#changed the design ever so slightly. removed the veins from his neck because it was just too much plus i don't think i want to-

[wasyago]

oh boy, what are we doing to do with you now...

#jrwi riptide #jrwi chip #my art #sketch #jrwi spoilers #jrwi riptide spoilers #riptide spoilers #is it in the same exact color pallett as the last dead chip art? yes #why? i dont know #am i going to draw another one like this? maybe... #its a fun pallett what can i do.... #changed the design ever so slightly. removed the veins from his neck because it was just too much plus i don't think i want to- #pull up a ref with vein locations in human neck every time i draw chip #plus like. surely the veins were black just because his throat was damaged by the heart. surely they'll calm down later. haha #oh and his hair are a little lighter. i was debating making them gray as well but decided against it #my boy already looks like Scar from 3rd life. he doesn't need more....

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

closeted | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook doesn't like you and you don't like him. Your friends and his friends decide enough is enough and they lock you in a closet together to settle your differences. Mhm.

warnings: language; implied slut-shaming; alcohol consumption; fuckboy?Jungkook x (technically noona) fuckgirl?reader, ft all other BTS members being... helpful? lol; enemies-to-lovers

–

“Jeon Jungkook? I don’t really have any thoughts about him. Isn’t he kind of a fuckboy?”

“Oh, her? Ah, there’s nothing to say really. Doesn’t she like to mess around?”

Those were your opinions about each other, which was now why both you and Jeon Jungkook were stuck in a closet in Kim Taehyung’s parents’ house.

“Taehyung, let us out right now!”

“Not until you two stop hating each other!” announced the booming, baritone voice of Kim Taehyung on the other side of the door, slightly tipsy and yelling over the loud music.

“We don’t hate each other,” came the silvery growl behind you. Jungkook shoved you slightly to the side so he could slam his fist against the heavy wood. You scowled, jerking away from his touch. “Stop being stupid and open the door.” His short ponytail at the back of his head swayed as he tried to shoulder the door, only for you to hear more bodies press against it.

“Nuh uh, Jungkookie,” Park Jimin snickered, sounding drunker than Taehyung even though the two of them had probably consumed the same amount. “Can’t muscle pig your way outta this one.”

Taehyung and Jimin burst into giggles on the other side of the door as Jungkook fumed next to you, long black bangs flaring as he clicked his tongue and rolled the sleeves of his black sweatshirt up, eyes narrowed, jaw tense.

You threw up your hands as Jungkook backed up and ran into the door with a loud thunk!

Nothing except Jimin, Taehyung, and squeaky laughter adding to the mix.

“We don’t even talk to each other,” you muttered as Jungkook shook his head vigorously and prepared to rear up again like a stubborn horse.

“And that’s the problem!” Kim Seokjin tittered in between bursts of laughter. “We’re all friends, except the two of you that like to pretend the other one is a fucking tree rather than an actual person.”

Jungkook collided with the door again and the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling flickered ominously.

“Who cares?” Jungkook roared, throwing his head back and pushing his hair away from his face with two hands. You rolled your eyes as he smacked the closet door.

“We do,” said a fourth, trying to be the voice of slurred reason. “In order for our shared friend group to have harmony, we two should work out your differences in a civil, dignified manner and discuss the root of your negative relationship.” You made a face and glanced at Jungkook, who made a similar confused expression. How much did Kim Namjoon drink? He sounded like a drunk philosopher.

“Locked in a closet is not civil, Namjoon,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, but it’s funnier,” Jung Hoseok laughed cheerfully, knocking on the door. “You two good in there? Not ripping off each other’s heads yet?”

“We don’t hate each other,” Jungkook repeated, giving up on fighting the door now that five people were holding it down. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“What’s the reason then?”

“Huh?” you shouted through the door. Jungkook rolled his eyes at you and you rolled your eyes back.

“What is,” Taehyung repeated, slower this time, emphasizing each syllable. “The reason that you guys are so hostile towards each other?”

“Did he eat some snacks you hid one time?” Seokjin piped up. “Because that would piss me off too.”

“That already pisses you off, hyung,” Jimin cut in. “You always bring it up.”

“Because he does it all the time! No matter where I hide them!”

“Your hiding places a pretty bad, hyung.”

“Namjoon! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Eh?”

“The side of reason and being right!”

“Hah…”

Jungkook clicked his tongue again and shoved his hands into his loose cotton pants. They were black and white striped and looked more like pajamas than actual pants. He hadn’t even bothered to get dressed to hang out with his friends. What a weirdo. You sighed, looking away, staring at the wall instead. Why look at Jeon Jungkook? Everyone looked at Jeon Jungkook. You didn’t need to add to that ego.

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Why are you wearing hyung’s shirt?”

You glared at him from your periphery. He was leaning against the wall, hunched over, glaring back.

“First of all, this is my shirt,” you snapped. “Second of all, they’re all your hyungs. Be more specific. And third of all, Yoongi only borrowed it because he said he was cold and this was one of the few things that fit him.”

Jungkook shoved his tongue into his cheek, looking at your black-on-black long-sleeved shirt with a moon tarot card design. He narrowed his dark eyes, giving you a piercing stare. You ran a hand through your hair, cocking your head away from him haughtily.

“Yeah, but you knew which hyung I was talking about.”

“Because only one of them has borrowed this shirt, idiot.”

“That’s not very nice,” Hoseok chided from the other side of the door. “No name calling in there!”

“You’re not very nice,” you retorted at the door, suddenly remembering that they were out there listening. In fact, one of the loons had turned down the music so the five of them could hear the exchange better. Mature of them.

“Why don’t you two say something you like about the other?” Namjoon suggested. “Compliments might help lessen the tension.”

Your eyes shifted to Jungkook’s clenched jaw, a vein popping on his neck. Yeah, okay. He noticed you looking and you jerked your head away, staring at the wall again.

“This is stupid. Why do we have to do this?” you complained.

“You look pretty good from the back.”

You flinched, irritation rising. Did he just–?

“For an older lady, that is.”

A muscle in your eye twitched. “Yeah, well, every guy says I look good from the rear view.”

“That’s not a compliment, Jungkook,” a deep, raspy voice from the bottom of the door.

Jungkook lifted himself off the wall, making a noise of surprise. “Yoongi-hyung? How long have you been there?”

“The whole time,” Jimin giggled. “He’s been pretending to be asleep.”

“I can’t sleep anyway,” Min Yoongi grumbled. “You guys are loud as fuck.”

“Nah, you just wanted to listen to the shitshow of these two,” Taehyung teased. There was the sound of a hand smacking of a shoulder and a disgruntled grunt at the bottom of the door.

Seokjin called your name loudly. “Yah! You haven’t said anything, backhanded or not!”

You grimaced and glanced at Jungkook again. He still looked surprised and, for a single second, you thought he looked pretty cute with his big round dark brown eyes and parted pink lips in an ‘o’. For a single second, he didn’t seem like that ‘hot guy’ that literally everyone, not just women, but men too, everyone was head-over-heels in love with, Jeon Jungkook, ‘hot guy’ with tattoos and a handsome face.

Blech.

You shifted your eyes away and stared at the corner. “I guess you might not have only one brain cell. Maybe you have two or three.”

“Ooh, nice, that’s a great one,” Jimin agreed behind the door. “Three is being generous, noona, well done.”

“Shut up, Jimin-ssi.”

Ugh, this shit was so dumb. And what kind of closet was this anyway? It was full of coats. A lot of them were more neutral colors, but there was the occasional muted jewel tone. Why did Taehyung’s family need this many coats and why was this closet on the upper floor? Some of them were neatly tucked in clear plastic covers. Oh. Probably to prevent them from getting moth holes, huh.

“Why do you hate me, anyway?” Jungkook muttered. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

“I don’t hate you. I just don’t like you,” you huffed.

“Why not? What did I do?” he sighed, reaching over and placing his hand on your shoulder.

You whipped your head around, narrowing your eyes. “Don’t touch me.”

He removed his hand, backing up with his hands in the air. “Whoa, okay, jeez. It’s just kind of hard to talk to you when your back is to me.”

“Hmph, why? Precious Jungkookie wants attention? Wants everyone to dote over him and love him?” you mocked in disgust, crossing your arms.

He twisted his lips. “… distracting, that’s all,” he mumbled.

“Hah?” You leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. “You forget how to talk?”

Jungkook looked away from you, frowning. “Sometimes, yeah. You’re kind of pretty.”

You blinked at him. What? You didn’t expect him to say that.

“In some lights, anyway.” He pointed up. “This one is pretty dim, like you.”

That was more like it. “Takes one to know one.”

His eyes shifted back to you. “What? A pretty person to spot pretty?”

You growled and scoffed, rolling your eyes. “See, this is why I can’t talk to you. You’re so full of yourself. All you ever do is think about is showing off how much better you are. How cool you are.”

“That’s because that’s all they ever talk about.”

You paused at his downcast tone. Your eyes drifted from the wall to his face. Jungkook wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were on the ground and he was rubbing the back of his head, frowning.

“I envy the way others talk about me. They always have such a perfect image pictured.” He inhaled deeply, slumping against the wall again. “It’s hard to live up to the picture everyone has of me in their head. Sometimes I don’t even want to try anymore so they give up and leave me alone.”

What?

His dark eyes shifted to you, half-shrouded by his long dark hair, tan skin glowing even in this dim closet light.

“I envy you,” he snapped, irritated edge to his voice. “I know you hear all that crazy shit they say about you, but you do whatever you want anyway. People call you a slut and you just invite all the hyungs over to your place and watch movies all night. People say you dress weird and you show up in big fur coats and wacky t-shirts and knee-high boots. People say you don’t know what you’re doing, but you can calculate your change faster than the cashier with the fucking computer.”

You gawked at him; jaw slightly slack. It took you a second to collect yourself. “It’s… not that hard. It’s basic math.”

“Hmph, yeah, well, I suck at math,” Jungkook muttered. “I’m not smart like Namjoon-hyung.”

“You’re good at a lot of things, Jungkook.”

“Like what?” he accused, putting you on the spot.

“Uh… you can draw. Namjoon draws like a five-year-old.”

Jungkook snorted. “Taehyung can draw.”

You raised an eyebrow. Honorifics, where? “Not realistically like you can. It’s a different style. Weirder.”

“I’m not weird,” Taehyung said through the door, voice half-muffled.

“Yeah, you are,” Jungkook replied without looking away from you.

“You’re kind of like an alien. In a good way,” Jimin added hastily.

“You’re kind of like an idiot,” Taehyung shot back.

Slapping sounds ensued outside the door.

Jungkook scratched his head, messing up his black hair. “I’m just saying I wish I was a little more like you sometimes.” He coughed. “Only sometimes.”

You ran a hand through your hair. “Well, I kind of wish I was like you sometimes,” you admitted, looking away from him. “I wish people would say nice things about me like they do for you. I wish people would praise me without reason. I wish people would fall in love with me like how they fall in love with you, without even knowing you.” You scoffed bitterly, flicking a hand carelessly. “Instead, they just play pretend and mess with my feelings because they think I’m easy.”

You left out a heavy sigh, weight off your chest. You hadn’t meant to say all that, but oh well. It was out there now.

So dumb.

“Then, when they find out I’m not, it’s my fault for some stupid reason. Like it’s my fault you painted this fake picture of me in your head.”

You felt something touch your outstretched hand. You jumped, seeing Jungkook’s right hand touching your fingertips, hand ink standing out against his flexed fingers. You almost pulled back. Almost. Then you caught the look in his eyes and stopped, mesmerized by the seriousness in his dark brown orbs.

“I meant it when I said you were pretty,” he whispered, barely audible.

Your eyes widened.

Your pulse raced through your veins.

“You… you said only in some lights,” you whispered back.

Jungkook lifted himself off the wall. One step. Two steps, towards you. You could have backed up. You could have slapped his hand away and yelled at Taehyung some more to let you out. Men were stupid. They ain’t shit. They play with your feelings and only want to use you. Dudes are just fuckboys.

Except Jungkook confirmed he wasn’t, just now.

And you confirmed you weren’t the female equivalent of a fuckboy – a fuckgirl?

For some reason, that made this different now.

This moment.

Jungkook looked down at you, tilting his head, brown eyes curious. You spread your fingers a little more and laced them with his, pressing your fingertips against the back of his hand as he pressed his against yours. You tilted your head the other way as he leaned down.

“I said you’re pretty in some lights,” he breathed. “You’re beautiful in all of them.”

He stopped just above your lips.

Pausing.

You lifted yourself up to close the gap, holding his hand tightly.

Mouth to mouth, resuscitating something that was almost dead because of misunderstandings and surface judgements, whispers and rumors clouding the truth, because everybody talks, everybody talks, everybody talks… too much.

For some reason, you expected Jungkook to smell musky or woodsy, something manly, but, in actuality, his cologne was light and sweet, barely there, like a fresh summer’s breeze. It was you that smelled more intense, your coffee and cream perfume mixing with his fruity scent, dominating a little, just like how you pressed harder into his soft lips, capturing them, surprised that was pleasant, almost sweet but with a hint of spice, the tip of his tongue teasingly brushing against your lips, and you drew back, narrowing your eyes at him.

He smiled a little, squeezing your hand lightly.

“That was nicer than I thought,” he murmured.

“You’re not that bad yourself,” you muttered, frowning a little at the heat rising in your cheeks.

“You guys still alive in there?” Yoongi asked gruffly from the ground, his voice drifting under the door.

“Did they kill each other? Should we open the door?” Seokjin wondered.

The doorknob began to turn.

Jungkook started and reached for the door.

You jumped and reached for the door.

A thin crack of light appeared.

Your hands intertwined, grabbing the doorknob and yanking it closed before it could fully open, both swiftly locking the door together with a firm click. The doorknob shook, confused noises on the other side of the wood.

Jungkook stared at you, brown eyes wide. “I… I just… thought we were getting somewhere,” he whispered under his breath.

You scratched your cheek with your free hand. “Yeah… we were getting somewhere... with this.”

The doorknob rattled violently.

“Excuse me, you two?” Taehyung shouted through the door. “Why the fuck is the door locked?”

“Uh…” you started.

“It’s jammed,” Jungkook shouted back.

“Nope, it’s definitely locked. I heard it,” Yoongi said from the floor.

“That bastard,” Jungkook hissed quietly, stepping closer to you.

“Why is it locked?” Jimin accused, sounding peeved. “Hmm? You two doing some naughty stuff?”

“Scandalous,” Seokjin and Hoseok gasped in unison.

Jungkook glanced at you and you shrugged, mouthing, maybe? He mouthed back, I thought you weren’t easy. You chuckled, speaking softly to his chin.

“We already spent all that time being hostile to each other.”

“So, you admit to the hostility.”

“Sure, if it helps your delicate baby brain sleep at night.”

His free arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you to his chest, kissing you again, holding your hand tightly, muttering against your lips, you’re kind of annoying, and you muttering back, you’re actually annoying, and him smiling between gentle kisses.

“I have to find the key, fuck, what the hell are they doing in there?”

“Are you sure you wanna know Taehyung?” Yoongi yawned from the ground. “What if you open the door and you’re scarred for life?”

“They were supposed to find common ground, not get handsy!” Taehyung shouted back, bounding away with Jimin’s disapproving sigh following. In the closet, Jungkook let go of your hand, kneading your waist as you wrapped your arms around him, both of your hands on his broad back, moaning softly into his lips as he sighed into yours, the kisses more audible now, hands exploring as Yoongi sat outside the door, clicking his tongue knowingly.

“You’re handsome, huh,” you breathed against his kisses.

“In some lights?” he teased.

You laughed, slipping your hands under his black sweatshirt, running your fingertips on his skin, making him gasp into your kisses.

“Yeah, in some lights.”

Outside the closet, Yoongi and Namjoon sat side by side, Seokjin and Hoseok long gone from secondhand embarrassment. The sounds from the closet were escalating, clothes rustling a little too much for two people who supposedly hated each other. But, as Yoongi and Namjoon discussed calmly, there were plenty of signs that indicated that those weren’t their true feelings.

“If you think about it, they’re a good fit,” Namjoon chuckled, amused as he heard Jungkook yelp. “This whole stuck in the closet thing was more fruitful than I thought.”

Yoongi laughed, raspy and full.

“Why do you think I suggested it?”

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader

[letsloveimagines]

Title: Forever

Pairing: Corpse Husband x female!reader

Requested by: Anonymous

Request: How about one where Corpse proposes? With flowers and everything! Like he went out of his comfort zone to propose to you in public because he felt like you deserved it!

Word Count: 2225

Warnings: luff and some swearing

Note: The images doesn’t belong to me, all the credits go to the respective creators. I only made the collage. Also, I will not make anything to make Corpse uncomfortable, if he ends saying he doesn’t like fanfiction about him, I will delete this.

                                                           ♦⋅☆⋅♦

The little black box, with that important thing hidden inside, weighed in the pocket of his dark jeans as he headed for her condo. Corpse's breathing was fast, his hands were shaking immensely, and his heart was beating fast, so fast that it seemed to want to escape his chest.

He strode, always faster than anyone, avoiding people who came in the opposite direction as far away as possible. The further away the better.

Swallowing hard feeling a lump in his throat, Corpse looked at the sky, which at that moment was a sea of red, orange and yellow, indicating that it would not be long before dark and for the moon to replace the sun.

Grabbing his phone and watching the time, he quickened his pace even more, playing with the rings on his long fingers and feeling his back cold with the nervous sweat.

He was ready, however, and he was sure that Y/N was the one. Since that day they met at the small cafe, he knew she was his forever. That day Corpse had risked going out for the first time in a very long time, trying to win even though he knew he would never really be able, at least not as he almost did now with her. That red-haired employee looked at him bored - certainly tired and dissatisfied with his own life, but who wasn’t? - his deep voice stuttering nervously as he tried to place the order. He succeeded there, and the minutes that it took the employee to complete it were truly terrifying. He said a small thank you, handed over the money, and in the moment he took the cup his hands were shaking so much that he thought he was going to drop it. Everyone was looking at him, Corpse was able to feel their gaze and there was nothing he wanted to do but disappear from there. But then an angel came up to him, gently touched his hands assuring him that everything was fine, and offering him a big, beautiful smile that made him dreamy for the rest of the day. Cliché he had the notion of that, but so incredibly good that remembering it makes him feel butterflies in his belly.

The memory was long enough to reach its destination, and the nerves tripled at the moment he saw the condominium of white and brown buildings. He was quick to send a message to let her know that he was already there, and it didn't take long to receive one in exchange of her saying she was going down as fast as she could.

Corpse took a deep breath, leaning against the wall with the white paint a little chipped and in need of a new coat of paint, and reached into his pocket feeling the velvet box stroking his fingerprints. It was still there, safe and heavy with all hopes for a bright future.

"Hey, love." Y/N’s sweet voice sounded nearby, along with the sound of her elegant footsteps.

"Hey, babe.." Corpse greeted pulling the mask away slightly - he couldn't get out without it, even on that very important day - and kissed his girlfriend's black-colored lips (she started to like seeing herself in black since they were together). It was a gentle kiss but full of longing and security, and especially full love. Her lips tasted like blackberries, which he loved, and the black lipstick helped to highlight the beautiful features of her face that only left him even more enchanted. How he was lucky enough to have someone so wonderful in his shitty life? This was something that Corpse questioned every day…

Y/N's eyes were bright when they pulled away and she smiled sweetly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I missed you."

"As did I, baby. Where do you want to go?"

"I thought it would be good for us to take a little walk."

"Are you sure? We can stay home if you want to, or if you don’t feel comfortable." Oh, how he loved her. Y/N was so understanding and attentive, and if she was another girl, she would have left his sorry ass a long time ago. And yes, Corpse was uncomfortable being on the outside, in plain sight, but it was something he wanted to do for her.

"I'm sure, let's go. It will be dark soon."

Y/N was quick to get to his left side, interlacing their fingers when they joined hands, Corpse's bigger hand practically swallowing hers.

Without further ado they began to walk calmly, Corpse remembering to slow down knowing that it would be difficult for his girlfriend to keep up with his hurried pace.

"I was thinking that we could go to dinner at that restaurant that you like." He informed her. It was a small and quiet restaurant, and they had been there before. It had gone well and without any problem. That was how he wanted it that night.

"Sure, I'd love it as long as it's okay with you." Y/N looked at him again with an uncertain look.

Corpse stroked her small hand. "I'll be fine as long as I'm with you."

The pink tone on her cheeks and the passionate smile with which she presented him made it all worthwhile.

On the way to the restaurant they talked about their days. Y/N told him how it had been a little busy day (she was a graphic designer) and she had already finished the cover of a fantasy book, and given it to the writer when he decided he wanted to change something at the last minute. She managed to do so, but not without feeling that she would tear her hair out in frustration. Corpse pulled her closer to him and assured her that everything was fine, that she was great at what she did and that better days would come.

He was telling her about the two-hour stream playing with the friends he had made, and the music he was writing, when they finally arrived.

They went in, asked for a table further away and without much trouble went to sit in their seats, with the menu on the wooden table waiting for them. There was no need to look though, whenever they went there they asked for the same thing, so that's what they did. She ordered spaghetti bolognese and for him just a vegetable soup with chicken. To accompany, they ordered a small bottle of wine. Corpse's left leg swung quickly, while discreetly touching his pocket.

"Is everything alright, baby?" She asked at the same time that the food was being served.

"Yes, don't worry."

Y/N didn’t stop looking at him with concern, but she did not insist. While they ate they were talking about nothing and everything, enjoying the feeling of being in public in what had been a long time. The restaurant was almost empty, with just another couple at a distant table with their backs to them, which made him more comfortable. It was small with the floor, tables and chairs all in wood, with brick walls with a rustic effect, and small iron lamps lighting the place almost lovingly.

Time passed and Corpse's nervousness only grew. They ate and drank wine, enjoyed dessert, and were happy and smiling.

Corpse was helping Y/N to put on the black leather jacket - her outfit consisted of comfortable shoes, red pants and a cute black tank top, as well as the delicate shamrock necklace he had given her on their one year anniversary -, when she questioned him curiously. "We are going home now?

"Let's go out for a little while." The beautiful girl's surprised look did not escape him, even he was surprised that he was succeeding to do that.

They left the restaurant after paying and ventured into the city, holding hands and full of soft words. Every now and then, Y/N would lift his hand to her lips and give a small kiss on the skin full of protruding veins.

The stars shone in the middle of the night, the moon was full and round, high and illuminating the path to the park. There were wooden benches every few meters, tall street lamps peeking out near the trees and the round lake by the children's swing. Y/N used to go there in her childhood.

They sat on the grass by the lake, their feet immersed in the cold water that reflected the moon. They were silent for a moment, completely at peace watching the couple of swans swimming nearby, gently cutting the water and with their long white necks almost intertwined.

It was now. Now was the moment.

"Y / N…"

"Yes, Corpse?" She looked at him with the stars shining in her eyes, and leaving him speechless.

Corpse’s heart sped up, blood pounded in his ears and his hands trembled when he opened his coat and removed the flower he had protected in the inner pocket. The black rose was in perfect condition, sparkling with the small silver particles that embellished the petals.

He handed it over to Y/N, who accepted her happily with a smile almost as big as his love for her.

"Oh, babe, it's beautiful! Thank you so much."

He smiled shyly, with extremely sweaty palms, and watched as the girl in front of him admired the flower, without knowing that she was also being admired by him.

"I do not deserve you." He said at last, immediately regretting it seeing her smile fading.

"What are you saying?"

"I-"

"Babe, you’re really scaring me right now. What's going on?" Y/N's gentle hands came to his face, taking off his mask (which was fine by him because he trusted her absurdly, and they were alone), and caressed the skin of his cheeks with concern.

"Let me talk before I turn myself into a coward once again. I don't deserve you, I have a full sense of that, you're too good for me and kinder than anyone will ever be. I'm not a religious person, my life didn't allow me to be , but since we’re together I pray every day that you would not wake up one day, and realize that it’s not me who you want by your side."

"It will never happen, you are everything I ever wanted." She whispered.

"I am not... but you are what I always desired." He smiled. "You take my problems when you shouldn't, you help me and you take care of me. I can talk to you about everything because I know my secrets with you are safe. You support me when I doubt myself, and you do it all without asking for anything in return. "

"I just want your love."

Corpse kissed her, feeling the soft brush of her lips against his. Just a simple kiss from her was enough to calm him down for good. "You already have it." He assured her, then touched the velvet box and took it out of his pocket. Y/N's shocked sigh filled the air, and she raised her hands to her mouth. "And I know that I will never be enough, that I will never be good enough... But I will try. From sunrise to bedtime I swear to love you and try to make you happy every day. And if one day I don't, I know that I wasted the best thing I have in my fucking life... "

The tears overflowed from her eyes, sliding down her face in rivers of happiness. "Corpse…"

Corpse opened the box showing her what he had been hiding for several months. It was a simple ring - too simple for her in the boy's opinion, but that was how she liked it - made of silver with an oval diamond in the middle, flanked by two smaller ones in square shape, and many smaller ones around it, embellishing the circle.

"Y/N…" He sighed deeply, more sure than ever in his life, even though trying to control his anxiety. "Do you want to marry me?"

The girl threw herself at him, hugging him tightly and crying in his chest. "Yes, yes! Of course I do! Of course I want to marry you."

He laughed happily and deeply, smiling so much that he thought the corners of his lips must reach his ears. He kissed the top of her head, inhaling her perfume and murmuring how much he loved her... But mainly thanking her for loving him.

After a few minutes of laughter and sobbing, Y / N walked away with red, wet cheeks and slightly swollen eyes, but looking more beautiful than ever.

"How long…?"

"Much too long." Gently he took her hand and stuck the engagement ring on her left ring finger, where it glowed as if it belonged there. "I should have done this a long time ago."

"It's beautiful." Y/N said in admiration. "I love you."

"Not more than I love you."

They shared another kiss, this one longer than the others, and left their foreheads gently touching each other, with their eyes closed and wanting to record the moment forever in their memory.

"Thank you." He whispered.

"I’m the one who should be thanking you…"

"I knew you were forever. I've known it since that day at the cafe."

"Yes…" Y/N agreed. "Forever."

                                                           ♦⋅☆⋅♦ Tag List: @breathygasps @unicornblood4ever @jay-jay-love @mintchip17 

#corpse husband #Corpse Husband Fandom #Corpse Fandom #corpse fanfiction #fanfiction #imagines #one-shot #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband oneshot #corpse husband one-shot #corpse x reader #corse x y/n #corpse x you #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x you #corpse husband x female reader

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Hi, I love your writing. I really want to make a request where the readers have eating disorder but works in the modeling industries. She is like dating Gerard, but they were in a super big fight because of her eating disorder, as well as her constant traveling for fashion weeks, and at the end, they make up, and Gerard is helping her getting better, and stuff like that. I really love your writing, can you please write one? THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!

Title: Poisons A/N: I actually got two requests for something like these. The endings for both requests were slightly different, but here’s the first one. I didn’t really edit it, just because I haven’t updated much content in forever, but here you go! Pairing: Gerard Way (probably late Black Parade era) x Model!F!Reader Word count: 3,170 Warnings: Eating disorder, swearing, angst, drama, there’s just a lot.

Okay, so this was not what Gerard expected to come home to.

The man expected to go back to his New York apartment, shared with his gorgeous girlfriend, and for everything to be perfect. Well maybe not perfect, but perfect in Gerard’s mind.

He wanted nothing more than to just eat some chips, not having eaten in 16 hours due to his flight and partial distaste to airplane food, and curl up with his girlfriend, hugging every inch of her curves.

Instead he came home to a house that was nearly empty of any food, only a few protein shakes resided in the large fridge. This was already a huge warning sign Gerard looked out for. His mind attempted to justify itself, thinking that maybe he was jumping to the worst of the worst conclusions. No, you were probably just traveling so much that you weren’t at home enough to actually buy food.

He sighed, moving to one of the cabinets he knew the take out menus were hidden in. Opening it up, he picked up one of the cheap paper menus covered in dust, shaking it with his hand to get it off. Great, these hadn’t been touched in months.

After debating mentally between Chinese and Italian, he moved to your bedroom, in hopes to finally see the love of his life after months of being absent on tour. There you were, peacefully sleeping in bed. Jetlag, he knew.

He carefully removed his shoes, moving to his closet to change his airplane clothes to more comfortable ones. Climbing into the warm bed beside you, he placed his hands on your hips as he always had. His initial smile soon turned into a frown.

Even under the large hoodie you were wearing he could feel the painful outlines of your ribs. Grimacing to himself, he heard a small sigh fall from your lips. “Gee?” You coarsely called out.

“Mhm,” He hummed back, kissing the top of your head despite the pure disappointment towards you that coarse through his veins.

“What’re you doing? Weren’t you supposed to be gone for another week?” You asked again, still half asleep.

“The guys and I decided to cancel the last week where we were just supposed to travel, I missed you too much.” He smiled lightly, moving your hair to the side to kiss your neck.

“Mmm,” You hummed quietly, your consciousness growing back. Within seconds realization hit you, your eyes internally going wide, not wanting to show anything to Gerard, and you pulled away from him slightly.

“Babe,” He sighed, “We’re not doing this again.” “Doing what again?” You tried to pretend to not understand what he was saying.

“You’re a gorgeous, talented model,” He began with a soft smile, “But don’t go into acting, you’re not good at it.” “Gee, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You fired back.

“Take off your hoodie,” He insisted, “Now.” “Gerard, what the fuck?” You scoffed, “Take off my hoodie?” “You heard me,” He stated, “Take it off.” “Why would I take it off?” You scrowled.

“So I can confirm that you haven’t been eating like you’re supposed to.”

“Gerard, please-” You begged, now falling off your pedestal of lies. He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes.

“Why haven’t you?” He asked, looking at you, “What has caused you not to eat again? I thought we were over this.”

“I don’t think that’s your problem.” You snapped. You rarely if ever did so, but this was only further confirmation that you hadn’t eaten in a couple of days. You were cranky.

“Damn right it is my problem.” He sat up next to you, his face had gone completely serious. There were traces of anger in his eyes, his pulsing veins along his muscular arms told you all you needed to know. He wasn’t only infuriated with your habit, he was disappointed.

A word you hated. You absolutely hated. The way it sounded, the meaning, how it made you feel. “Please,” You begged him, your once bright eyes gray from the torture you had put yourself through. “Please what?” He asked, his tone still somewhat harsh.

“Just don’t be mad.” You pleaded. You could see his eyes scan over your face, looking for any signs that you were lying. He found none.

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes to clear his head he nodded lightly. “Alright,” He said barely letting out a breath, “But you need to tell me everything.”

And you did. Most of it at least. You explained how your insecurities resettled themselves in your mind, starting the moment he left for Tour. You talked about how you were getting more gigs and all due to your tinier size. You explained how skin and bones was basically the new trend.

He sat and listened to you. And he believed it, because he knew it was true. But naturally, he also was a human lie detector. Especially with you.

“Okay,” He began, “And what else?” So maybe that one small part your left out was something that you really didn’t want to admit. Gerard had this strong distaste for most of your model “friends”, ya know, the ones who are naturally tiny and eat salads 24/7, never genuinely enjoying a single meal. The one’s who flashed their designer shit everywhere they went, who posted bikini photos every other day and managed to somehow photoshop themselves into complete Barbie dolls. It made Gerard’s blood boil, he never liked you hanging out with them. Because are them you were not Y/N, you couldn’t be. And that made you even more secure.

“There’s nothing else.” You lied. He looked you in the eyes, waiting another moment.

“I’m gonna give you one more chance to tell me the truth,” He sighed, “What else?” “I said nothing.” Your tone was adamant. He rolled his eyes in disbelief.

“You lied to me,” He began, “You just fucking lied to me. We’ve been over this how many times?” “I didn’t fucking lie to you,” You stuck up for yourself, moving further away from him.

“Another lie, damn Y/N.” He sighed, “We’ve been dating for three years, and you still can’t trust me.” “I do trust you, Gerard.” “Then why are you lying to me?” He asked, his tone going to a much harsher pitch.

“Ya know what?” You said, grabbing your pillow violently, getting up from the bed, Gerard looking at you with no emotion. “Fuck you.” You stated.

“Are you seriously gonna leave?” He asked, rolling his eyes, “Immature.” “No, I’m going to the fucking couch where I don’t have to sleep next to a complete dick.” You fired back, going into your closet and grabbing a spare blanket. “You didn’t mean that.” He scoffed.

“Then why the fuck did I say it?” You marched out of the bedroom, flipping him off to which you heard a sarcastic laugh.

This was far from how you had planned his return. You were gonna stock the fridge and pantry, ya know, not give him a chance to think you weren’t eating, and probably have dinner made. You would eat a small portion, making the excuse you had a big lunch with your friends, and bam! Everything would be okay.

But naturally, shit didn’t work out and after numerous insults thrown at each other you found yourself on the couch silently sobbing. You and Gerard had never gone that far, ever. This fight was beyond messy, it was a complete dumpster fire.

You wanted no more than to apologize to him, but you also wanted an apology from him. You should’ve told him everything, that was on you. But he pushed your buttons and he knew what he was doing. It only took 15 minutes, before you heard his soft footsteps coming from the bedroom, and his warm arms wrapping around you, to which his shoulder became one to cry on. His slow and soft coos calming you down, as he began apologizing over and over again, clearly more mad at himself at this point. “Sugar, I’m so so sorry,” He apologized, “I was just really upset.” “I know,” You sniffled, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have called you a dick.” You looked up at him. “Well, I was kinda being one.” He lightly smiled, to which you giggled in his chest. “Just promise me, you’ll start eating again.” “Gee-” You were about to make an excuse when you were interrupted.

“Babe, you have to.” He began, “Remember what your manager said last time?” You sighed, remembering. Yep, they would place you right in a psych ward. “So here’s what’s gonna happen. We’re not gonna tell anyone, but I need you to start eating, okay? We’ll go gradually, start small and build up. Together, okay?” You nodded, placing you head on his shoulder.

“I love you,” You smiled, looking up at him. “I love you too.” He smiled right back down.

-Six months later-

"Gee, that’s too much salt!” You scolded as he put a tablespoon of salt not a teaspoon into the cookie dough you were making.

“Oops.” He looked down to which you smiled lightly. You took a chunk of it placing it into your mouth, and he did the same. You couldn’t help but gag at how much salt was in it. “Salty.” He admitted, and you lightly nudged him.

“Yeah, ya dork.” You smiled. “That’s what happens when you add too much salt.” He lightly laughed, wrapping his hands around your waist from behind and placing his head on your shoulder.

“So what’re we gonna do to fix it.” “Nothing,” You said, “We could like, triple the batch, but that would be way too much.”

“Don’t forget we’re seeing the guys tonight,” He smiled, “They’re gonna eat this shit up.” You sighed, nodding.

“Maybe it isn’t such a bad idea after all.” The two of you spent the next half hour adding more of every ingredient, thankful that your apartment was stocked with food to use.

Carefully, you placed as many trays as you could into the oven, closing it and setting the timer. Giving Gerard a quick peck on the lips, he went off to review some emails as you checked your phone. Of course, the group chat was buzzing.

You sighed as you open the text chain reluctantly, scrolling through only to see your name pop up numerous times. “Y/N, where have you been?” “Yeah, fr, we have been out to lunch with you in forever.” “Why are you ignoring us?” “Really? Now you’re being a fake friend.” “Guys, I’m okay.” You simply responded, “Just really busy.”

“Uh huh, you’ve been doing boutique stuff for months.” “Literally nothing even big.” “Not since that Prada show.” “It’s Gerard, isn’t it.”

And just like that, you were about to light these girls up. Gerard was the only one willing, and quite frankly able, to get you out of the huge hole you had dug yourself into. And damn, now these bitches (I hate misogynistic terms against women, but I think it may fit here) were really gonna act like the good guys. “Don’t bring Gerard into this.” You simply responded. “It has to be him.” “He’s not even worth it.” “You could have any guy in the world, and you chose him.” “He’s way out of your league, and you’re still on your knees for him. Smh.” You knew damn well they were trying to get to you. None of these girls had had any true romance, only summer flings with football players, actors, and singers. Granted, Gerard was a singer, but he made good music. He was an artist at his core, singing was just apart of that art. It didn’t take you more than a moment to remove yourself from the group chat, and block all those girls. The real fake friends. The timer went off, which startled you a bit, but placing your phone down with a heavy sigh, you turned it off, to check out the cookies. The top row was done, which you were going to take out. Naturally, the tsunami of inappropriate texts from who you would once call your “girlfriends” was still flooded in your mind, and like a complete idiot, you reached in, touching and grabbing the sheet. With you bare hands.

“Shit!” You yelped, dropping the pan on the open oven and rushing to put your hand under cold water.

“Y/N?” You heard Gerard rush in. You looked up at him, and judging your hand under water, and the cookie sheet which had clearly gone through it, he took a slight sigh, first going to examine your hand. “You alright?” You nodded despite the tears forming in your eyes.

It wasn’t even the burn that hurt. It was the fact that you knew you let those girls get to you so easily, and the just embarrassed yourself in front of Gerard. You knew he didn’t find it embarrassing at all, it was an honest mistake. But still, it embarrassed the shit out of you. “Baby,” He cooed, moving your head up with his fingers under your chin to see the tears that were now slowly cascading down your red cheeks, “It’s okay.” He said lightly. You nodded, placing your head into his chest and sniffling a bit. “What happened.” “I was just distracted,” You admitted, “Forgot the oven mitt.” He nodded, holding you for a moment longer before he knew you were okay, and going to pick up the mess. “Gee, I can clean it up, I made it-” “No, no, please, just worry about your hand, okay, sugar?” You nodded, attending back to it.

The bright red mark across your hand didn’t want to budge, which you were fine with, considering it didn’t hurt as much, just stung a bit. He managed to clean up all the cookies pretty fast, putting them on the stove top to cool, and quickly going back to you. Giving you a kiss on the top of your head, it was his way of messaging he didn’t want to push the topic. But if you wanted to talk he’d be there to listen. It wasn’t but a few hours later that the guys came over. The mistake from earlier was long forgotten, other than the mark on your hand.

The guys were honestly some of your best friends, just like they were Gerard’s. They truly cared about you, just as much if not more than you cared about them. All of them knew about your struggles, and they were honestly your number one cheerleaders.

So the looks on their faces when they saw you healthy again was one that you could not pay for. It was definitely a lot of pride in you for doing it, and it made you feel even better about your decision to get healthy again.

Honestly, you loved the relaxes atmosphere of just hanging out. Sitting next to Gerard with some water, as he drank a Diet Coke, and some of the guys had beers, some opted otherwise. You could theoretically drink as well, but you didn’t want your boyfriend to ever feel alone or strange not drinking alcohol, considering his rough past with it. So you typically opted for a non alcoholic beverage.

It wasn’t until after the guys were gone and you were in the shower that Gerard figured out what was wrong. Your phone kept buzzing, going off constantly. He had never once checked your phone without your permission. There was a huge element of trust in your relationship, and he never felt that there was a reason to. He knew your passcode, you two had openly shared each others in the case one of you needed to use the others phone, but when he picked up yours and saw all those girls name pop up he scoffed.

He knew he probably shouldn’t have done it, but he opened your phone, scrolling through the messages. Some of them you had yet to block, and they were obnoxious. He went into the group chat where the messages were flooding, reading from the beginning of the day until now.

Pissed was an absolute understatement. If it wasn’t for the sound of the shower you were in keeping him aware of his surrounding, he probably would have smashed your phone. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he placed it face down on the counter right where it was, resorting back to your bedroom in some hope of calming down before you got out, not making anything too obvious.

Everything was fine, completely normal. The two of you laying in bed together, doing your typical night time routine of reading a bit, maybe watching something, it really depended. You could feel how tense Gerard was, even by your head just leaning on his shoulder. His muscles flexed together, twisted into tight knots. You weren’t sure what had him so stressed, there wasn’t a need for him to be, right? “Babe?” You asked, to which he quietly hummed, “Are you alright?” You had caught on quickly, like you always had. And now he had cursed himself for looking at those messages. Transparency, he remembered, transparency.

“Honestly,” He sighed putting his book down, “I- I- I saw those messages.” He stumbled on his own words. You gave him a confused look, “The ones the girls sent.” You let out a sigh. Oh shit, he thought, thinking the worst of the worst. “Please don’t listen to them,” You insisted, “You know you’re not the reason for any problem in my life?” “Of course not,” He scoffed, “You’re totally fine. It’s just, how they treated you that bothered me.” “Gee-” “Y/N, we’ve talked about this.” He turned to you, “I’m not a controlling person, I try my hardest not to be. But damn, those girls are complete poisons. They’re hurting you, they’re doing far more harm than good. And I hope that doesn’t make me sound like a manipulator or anything, but even you’ve admitted you’re a lot different around them.” You sighed and nodded.

“I know, I just-” You began, “I’ve spent so many years of my life surrounding myself with people like them that it’s hard for me to know what to do without that, ya know?” He nodded.

“You don’t need a bunch of model friends thought to still be a great model.” You nodded.

“I’ll cut everything off with them in the morning, okay?” “Babe, you don’t need to rush it,” He said, “I mean, sure, the sooner the better, but this is your timing okay?” You nodded.

“Do you think everything will be okay?” You asked him next.

“Well, after they very possibly blame you for everything over text and try to put you down a psychological spiral, because that’s what they do, then yes, everything should be okay.” He smiled to which you nudged him. “You’re making this so much easier.” You sarcastically said, “I don’t even know why I ask you.” “Because you love me.”

#gerard way #gerard way fanfiction #gerard way x reader #gerard way x y/n #gerard way x you #gee way #my chemical romance #my chemical gerard #My Chem #my chemical gee #my chemical romance x reader

[captcas]

Worth Fighting For [12/?]

WORTH FIGHTING FOR by capthamm

Killian “Hook” Jones is a dominate up and comer in the UFC while Emma “The Savior” Swan’s career was cut short. When Hook’s manager moves up and the office brings in UFC’s youngest legend to keep him in check, will either of them be able to handle it?

read on ao3 // tumblr: ch 1/ ch 2 / ch 3 / ch 4 / ch 5 / ch 6 / ch 7 / ch 8 / ch 9 / ch 10 / ch 11 [Chapter 12/?]

The three weeks between that and Killian’s fight flew at lightspeed. Between training (together), press conferences (together), and general life (also, together), Emma found herself spending almost every moment with Killian without really knowing what hit her.

He wove himself into her life with an ease she would’ve found scary if she wasn’t so damn happy.

After meeting, Killian and Henry begged to be together daily. It started with short bursts– lunch here, a trip to the park there– and eventually it became week long movie nights with the three of them cuddled up on the couch. Any thought she had of slowing things down was abruptly erased by Henry’s overall excitement just to be with Killian.

The night the two of them fell asleep together in Henry’s bed mid-bedtime story was the proverbial nail in the coffin.

That’s how she finds herself sitting outside the locker room killing time before Killian has to prep for weigh-ins. Henry was already in their seats, Ruby keeping an eye on him while he oogles at the stage being constructed. Emma has been able to mostly ignore the reality of tonight– and tomorrow night– by managing Killian’s social accounts and keeping Regina off her back. (Let’s just say her boss doesn’t know the full extent of their relationship and Emma would like to keep it that way at least until this weekend is over and not just because even she doesn’t know the full extent.)

Emma hears the announcer call for fighters to the locker rooms and it snaps her out of her own thoughts. 

Killian has to go. They– mostly Emma– have been dreading this night since the moment they found out it was Neal. It was only three weeks ago, but somehow everything has changed and it feels like a different lifetime. Killian must have resigned to his fate as well, “Duty calls, love.” He kisses her on the forehead and she leans into the contact. Emma nods but is reluctant to remove her arms from their comfortable spot on his hips. She’s about to wish him luck when he pulls a long silver chain from his pocket. Dangling from the end is a beautiful ring– rubies set with diamonds across a twisted silver band.

Oh shit.

“Whoa. Whoa, whoa, wh–”

He rolls his eyes, “Calm down, Swan. I’m not proposing.”

She nods with a tight smile, ignoring the rush of disappointment that floods her mind. It’s barely been a month, she should not be disappointed. He smirks, probably reading her like a book per usual, but continues anyway, “You know I’m good at surviving the octagon, yeah? Well, this ring is why. I’ve had it for many years, it’s the reason I’m alive. The reason I’m here today.”

“Killian–”

“I want you to have it this weekend. Keep a piece of me with you. Tomorrow may be a bloody awful night for me but I can’t imagine the war raging behind those beautiful eyes of yours, love.” He brushes a small piece of hair off the apple of her cheek before placing the ring carefully in her hand. She clutches it tightly before pressing up on her toes to place a gentle kiss against his lips.

“Thank you.”

He smiles, something bright and happy that reaches his eyes but is reserved for her, “Don’t mention it, Swan. I’ve got all the luck I need right here.” He squeezes her waist, eliciting a small giggle as he focuses in on a slight ticklish spot. Killian kisses her temple once more before they finally part.

“Go get him, Jones.” She can’t help the grin that spreads across her face despite the potential danger Killian is walking into.

He turns back to respond, “Aye, love. Tomorrow night, that’s the plan. It’s only weigh-ins, what could go wrong?” With a wink and a smirk he heads into the locker room and Emma notices the ring still clutched tightly in her fist. Taking it gently, Emma places it over her neck, the weight of the ring heavy atop her chest.

It feels like a lifeline.

Emma takes a deep breath before cracking her neck and slipping into her very real position as Killian’s PR manager. Henry is here tonight, so despite her job, she figures she should check on him first– that is if he hasn’t already tried to come find her. As she walks out from behind the stage she bumps into someone solid. Nausea hits her like a freight train as a familiar scent takes over. The hands on her shoulders seer like fire and she looks up only on instinct.

She swears her blood runs cold at the sound of his voice, “Ems?”

Before she can react, another familiar voice cuts through blood rushing in her ears, “Mom?”

Emma can feel the indent of the ring carving itself into the palm of her hand as she realizes what’s about to happen. Maybe lifeline was an understatement? She reached for the ring instinctively as she realized the moment she had hoped would never come was hovering right in front of her.

She closes her eyes and hears Killian’s voice in her head, “ You can do this, Swan.”

Somehow that’s all the push she needs. Turning to Henry, she ignores the close proximity of his father. “Henry! You were supposed to wait by the seats.”

Her eyes never leave her son. “I was going to but Ruby said I could get popcorn and when I heard them call Hook back I figured you’d be coming out soon so I figured I’d wait for you.” He turns to Neal. “Oh my god, you’re The Fire !!!!”

Neal looks like he’s been tased. Emma pleads with him telepathically to ignore the fact that this is his unmistakably his son.

She never was good at telepathy.

“I am! And you must be Henry.” Neal smiles at him and then turns to Emma for confirmation– she nods slightly despite him barely deserving that. Henry’s eyes light up.

“Did Hook tell you about me?! Mom, do you know Neal Cassidy, too?!” Neal’s eyes turn from amusement to confusion before he turns to Emma.

“Hook?” The word sounds like poison as it cuts across the space between him and Emma.

Henry speaks before Emma can form an explanation, “Yeah! Killian is my mom’s client. She helps him run his Twitter and stuff. Does she do that for you too?”

Oh yeah, client, right.  

Neal gives her one more look before turning back to Henry, “Nope, not for me. Your mom and I are just old friends.” Acid. He sounds like he’s spitting acid. Emma has to choke back a scoff.

How did Emma ever fall for this shit?

“Oh, Killian and mom are friends too. He’s over pretty much every night. I think he likes me better though.” Emma can’t stop a smile from breaking out across her face. She grabs Henry and pulls him in for a hug.

“I think you’re right, kid.” Emma’s eyes meet Neal’s and he’s about to speak when a trainer comes up behind him and whisks him away. Something in his gaze tells her that this conversation isn’t over, but he says bye to Henry who waves before completely moving on to the veteran athletes he saw while waiting in the concession lines. Once he’s out of sight Emma takes a moment to focus her breathing— the cool temperature of Killian’s gift against her thumb effectively grounding her.

This ring really is a godsend– or maybe that’s just the man who gave it to her.

. . .

Killian is sitting in the middle of the sparring gym when he hears his moniker called by an unfamiliar voice. Whoever it is sounds angry. It’s weigh-ins so this level of hostility is usually a show for the cameras, but it’s also usually reserved for fighters who actually know each other.

“Killian Jones.” The use of his full name causes Killian to stand, coming face to face with Neal. He’s only seen him in photos and on tape, but he’d recognize him anywhere. Ice fills Killian’s veins before turning to white hot rage. He’s got half a mind to knock him flat on his arse but knows better than to fight outside the ring.

He opts for civility instead, “Ah, you must be Mr. Cassidy.” Killian squares with him, sizing him up. Despite his clearly trained stature, Killian knows Neal is a coward.

No man who gives up a boy like Henry could be anything less.

“Stay away from my son.”

That was not what Killian expected, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Neal is fired up for some reason or another. Killian can’t imagine why, unless– Emma .

Neal must’ve ran into Emma and Henry before coming back. Killian drops the niceties, “ Your son? I believe there’s a hefty packet of legal papers that says quite the opposite, mate.”  

He watches the rage fill up Neal’s face and his arm begin to form a fist. As Killian responds, Neal’s trainer is coming up behind him. “Not here, Cassidy. Save it for the octagon.”

As the trainer pulls Neal away, Killian doesn’t let the wash of relief exit in a sigh, but he feels it all the same. Neal turns to him once more,“We’ll settle this tomorrow, Jones. You don’t get to steal my life.”  He clearly has a compulsory need for having the last word.

Too bad so does Killian.

As Neal approaches the door separating their designated gyms, Killian calls out once more, “It’s not stealing when you give them up in the first place. Finders keepers, mate.” He winks as Neal crosses into the other room, his trainers keeping him pointed in the right direction.

That’s when Robin walks up behind Killian, “What the hell was that about? I thought you two didn’t even know each other.”

“A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets, Robin. It seems Mr. Cassidy is regretting his choice not to fight.” Killian turns to his best friend and finds only understanding in his eyes.

Robin claps his hand onto Killian’s shoulder, “Kick his ass, Jones.”

Nodding, Killian straps his gloves on. “My plan precisely, boss.”

...

@mariakov81 @kmomof4 @superchocovian @pirateherokillian @teamhook @bawley-bug @let-it-raines ​

#cs ff #emma swan #killian jones #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #worth fighting for #capthamm #im sorry this took so long

[princess-of-riviaa]

I Want You

Part 2 to I Want More

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader

Summary: After showing you just how skilled he is at pleasing a woman, it’s your turn to please Clark, and he’s more than happy to tell you how to do it.

Warning(s): oral (m receiving)

Word Count: 1,674

You pull away from Clark despite wanting to deepen the kiss and dare to ask, “Will you show me how to… pleasure you? I mean, I’ve never done anything like that to a guy before. I’ll probably be bad, but…” But I want to make you feel as good as you just made me feel seconds ago.

His gaze turns dark at the question. “I’d like nothing more.” Clark kisses you again.

You move to sit in his lap. There’s something so erotic about you being completely naked while he’s fully clothed. His fingers draw circles in the small of your back and he hums against your mouth, clearly enjoying himself already.

“I think I could spend forever just kissing you,” you sigh.

He laughs. His entire body vibrates as the sound rumbles through his body. “I think that’s the orgasm talking, babe.”

It’s true. Ever since you came around his mouth your head has been fuzzy. You’ve only been able to think about that warm, content feeling in your stomach and the fact that Clark made you feel like that. You swear you love this simple Kansas man.

You can’t remember who deepens the kiss but suddenly your tongues are moving together in an erotic dance and your hips move against him until his erection is pressing tightly against your soaking core. You swallow each other’s shallow breaths.

“Show me, Clark,” you say between kisses. “Show me how to touch you.”

A deep, primal sound that resembles a growl rips from the back of his throat as his arms tighten their grip around you. “I gotta get undressed first.”

“Oh yeah,” you agree, not moving from his lap or ceasing your kissing. “That’s probably a good way to start.” You kiss him a few more times before finally pulling away.

He unbuttons his shirt as you work on unzipping his jeans. His clothes end up in a crumpled pile on the floor, but that’s not where your attention lies. You’ve never seen a cock before so you have no idea if he’s considered bigger than average, but you can already tell that you’ll struggle to fit even half of him in your mouth. Clark is long, a good seven inches at least, and so thick that you have doubts about being able to take him in your mouth, but your stomach stirs at the thought of trying. There’s a deep blue vein that sticks out on the underside of his cock, running from the base to the tip. You lick your lips at the sight of it as you imagine what it feels like. The hair on his pelvis is dark and curly like the hair on his chest. You can’t keep yourself from staring at him.

“Change your mind?” Clark asks.

You shake your head and look up at him. “N-no. I’ve just never, um… I’ve never seen a man’s…”

He smiles, amused. “Is it weird?”

“Yes,” you admit before you realize what you’re saying. Your eyes bulge as you quickly add, “I mean, you’re not--yours is… I don’t…” You close your eyes in frustration and sigh. “It’s not weird in a bad way. Just different.”

You force yourself to look away from his manhood and take in the rest of his naked body. You’ve seen him shirtless before but you’ll never stop being surprised and turned on at the sight of his thick arms and sculpted stomach. And the dark hair on his chest… you have to resist the urge to run your fingers through it. His legs are long and thick with muscle, too, and you find yourself wondering how the hell a man as gorgeous as Clark ever gave you a second glance.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are,” Clark says, and you blush when you realize you said all of that out loud.

You blush and avoid the intensity of his gaze. You return your attention to his cock and bite your lip.

“Wrap your hand around me,” he instructs.

You do. It’s almost humorous how small your hand looks when it’s wrapped around his shaft. The skin is velvety-smooth and warm, very different from how you imagined it feeling.

“Spit on it,” he says. His voice is shallower now, his breathing unsteady.

You blush at the dirtiness of his words. But you listen and spit on the tip of his cock, watching as it slides down his shaft. His tip leaks a clear liquid that you think is pre-cum. It becomes easier to slide your hand up and down his shaft. He continues to instruct you on how to move your hand and how much pressure to apply, all the while struggling to breathe normally. You love that you’re already having such an effect on him.

“Can I… put my mouth on you?” you dare to ask.

His gaze, which has been watching you stroke his cock with a dark intensity, now flicks back to you. His pupils are fully dilated. “Fuck, baby, yes.”

You love that he’s starting to lose control. He’s no longer the contained, well-behaved Clark Kent, but rather a man succumbing to his most basic pleasures. You lean down and give the tip a small, hesitant lick. The pre-cum is salty, almost bitter on your tongue, but the fact that it’s Clark you’re tasting makes you want more. You continue to lick at his tip while your hand moves up and down the base of his shaft.

Clark curses under his breath. “Keep going, wrap your mouth around me.” The way he’s already so breathless and turned on makes the heat in your stomach burn even hotter.

You eagerly comply. Your initial thought was right; you do have to stretch your mouth open wide to even fit all of him inside. His cock is heavy on your tongue and you struggle to fit more than just the head inside your mouth, all the while swirling your tongue in circles on the underside. Your hand slides up and down the parts of him you can’t fit in your mouth. Clark’s abs clench as he struggles to breathe. You love watching him squirm beneath you; love that, despite your inexperience, you can make him feel so good.

“Your mouth is fucking heavy, babe,” he groans out as he brings a hand to the back of your head.

You tense at his touch, surprised to feel his hand, but relax a second later. He fists your hair in his hand. You expect it to hurt, and it does, but the way he tugs on your hair somehow only arouses you more. He pushes your head down on his cock slowly, forcing you to take more of him in. Your body tenses as you realize that you can no longer breathe through your mouth. By the time you remember how to breathe through your nose his cock is brushing against the back of your throat and, though you try not to, you find yourself gagging around his thick length.

“Fuck, baby!” he cries out as your throat tightens around him.

Your initial instinct was to pull back, but after realizing that the tightness of your throat turns him on even more, you force yourself to stay still and let his cock rest there. You keep your mouth open wide as his hips buck up and he begins to fuck your mouth. You struggle to keep your body relaxed as your throat gags and then loosens around his length. Tears soak your eyelashes before falling down your face. You can feel yourself drooling the longer you keep your mouth open like this, mixing with his pre-cum and soaking the bed sheets beneath you. His movements grow more frantic and you feel his legs begin to shake. He’s close, you realize. You look up at him to find his head thrown back and the veins in his neck pulsing as his entire body begins to spasm. It’s such a sight, watching such a beautiful man fall apart at your hands. You suddenly realize why people find sex so addicting.

His seed hits the back of your throat in warm stripes and you struggle not to cough it up. You swallow every last drop that he releases inside of you. He grunts as he cums. It’s a sound you want to hear everyday for the rest of your life. His body relaxes as the last of his seed hits your throat and you pull back, releasing his cock. The red tip rests against his stomach.

“You swear you’ve never done that before?” Clark asks as he catches his breath.

You blush and tell him no. “Was I okay?”

His blue eyes blink up at you. “I think ‘okay’ is an understatement.”

He spreads his arms and you know that’s your cue to snuggle up to him. You lie down beside him and rest your head on his chest. His heartbeat races against your cheek, though it begins to slow the longer you stay there. Your fingers trace meaningless designs on his skin. You keep note of how he tenses when you touch him in certain areas, especially when your fingers circle his hips.

“Clark, I’ve never had sex,” you admit for not the first time.

“I know,” he says, sounding sleepy. His arm slides down to wrap around your waist.

You pick your head up to look at him. “I want you to be my first.”

He reads your face, checking for any signs of uncertainty. “We don’t have to--”

“I know,” you admit. Clark has never pressured you for anything physical. Every time he senses you’re even slightly uncomfortable, he stops. You’ve never dated a man as considerate as Clark. It’s what makes you sure about this. “But I want to feel you like that. I want to share that with you.”

He opens his mouth, then pauses. He must see something in your eyes because he says, “Not tonight, though?”

You grimace. “Is that okay?”

He gives you a gentle smile. “I’d wait forever for you.”

***

Tag squad:

@agniavateira​ @hnryycvll​ @littlefreya​ @celestial-vomit​ @lestersglitterglue​ @watermeloncavill​ @honeychicana​ @penwieldingdreamer​ @mary-ann84​ @elixasays​ @buckysgoldenheart​ @noz4a2​ @trippedmetaldetector​ @omgkatinka​ @lunedelorient​ @aphrodites-punch​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @sweetybuzz25​ @iloveyouyen​ @deathonyourtongue​ @utterlyhopeful​ @wondersofdreaming​ @tsukuyomi011​ @the-soot-sprite @desperate-and-broken​ @jayismz

Let me know if you want to be added/removed from my taglist!

#clark kent #clark kent imagine #clark kent smut #clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #man of steel #superman #superman imagine #henry cavill superman #henry cavill #henry cavill smut

[namjoonilicious]

DUFF (Chapter 6)

Chapter 6

╳ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

╳ Genre: fluff, smut, angst

╳ Summary: “Being the Duff has really changed you.”

“Excuse me, the Duff?” I asked, my voice rising a little at the end.

“You know, the Designated. Ugly. Fat. Friend.”

______________________________________________________________

It was almost midnight and I still haven’t texted Jungkook back. A part of me knew the consequences if I did meet with him, but the other part didn’t care.

I looked over to see Lisa passed out, one arm behind her head while her other arm was hanging off the bed. Guilt overcame me as I thought about all the times that I haven’t been telling her the truth. How could I explain this whole situation to her when I could barely understand it myself?

I groaned and pushed my face into the pillow. I was about to let out a scream until my phone vibrated.

Subconsciously I knew who it was before I looked, but my stomach still dropped when I saw his name.

[11:47 p.m.] Jungkook: baby, please hurry.

This time, I let out a small whimper and unconsciously rubbed my thighs together. I wanted to go see him, God did I really want to go see him. But the longer I lay there reading his text, the more I realized how wrong it would be.

Also, what would I do if Lisa woke up and saw that my bed was empty? There’s no way I would be able to lie and get away with it.

[11:49 p.m.] Jungkook: baby

[11:49 p.m.] Jungkook: I need you so fucking bad.

Fuck.

He’s making it almost impossible to resist him and I’m mad at myself for even considering going to his room. I reread the text and I could already feel how wet I was getting. I couldn’t even deny how turned on I was getting by imagining what Jungkook would do to me once I got there.

I took one last look at Lisa and whispered ‘fuck it’. I pulled the covers away from me and got out of bed quietly, tip toeing my way to the door. I didn’t look back as I pulled the door closed behind me.

Wearing only a baggy shirt and shorts, I made my way down the hall.

I remember his room was a few doors down from mine because I saw him go in there when we came in from swimming. It was pitch black in the hallway, making me drag my hands along the wall to feel for the doorknob.  

I was planning an excuse in my head of what I would say if I got caught until I bumped into someone, a quick scream leaving my mouth.

“Shhhh” the person said, putting a finger to my lips. “You’re going to wake the whole house up.”

That’s when a light flicked on, my eyes taking a few seconds to adjust to the bright light.

There stood Yoongi, a look of confusion on his face.

“What’re you doing?” He asked, getting straight to the point.

I could feel my face start to warm up at the thought of him knowing what I was about to go do.

“Oh, I was going to get a drink!” I said a little too enthusiastically. I mentally cursed at myself for looking so obvious.

“You’re going the wrong way” he said with a small smile.

“It was dark so I didn’t know where the stairs were.”

That lie came out so easily that it worried me.

“I was going to the kitchen too,” he said, walking around me. “Come on”

I smiled and followed him down the stairs, my heart practically beating out of my chest. I realized that I didn’t bring my phone with me so I couldn’t let Jungkook know that I wasn’t coming. There was no way to go get it without looking suspicious, so I continued to follow Yoongi into the kitchen.

He grabbed two cups out of the cabinet and filled them with water. He slid my drink over the counter as he leaned against the sink, watching me as he brought the cup to his lips. I did the same, averting my eyes to the wall behind him.

“Going to see Jungkook?” he asked, causing me to spit out some of the water I was drinking.

I was trying not to choke as Yoongi busted out laughing.

“You should’ve seen the look on your face!” he said, clutching his stomach.

I just stood there staring at him, not even knowing what to say. I rubbed my palms against my shorts and laughed along with him awkwardly, hoping he didn’t realize that he was actually right.

“I’m just joking” he teased as he put his drink down.

I cleared my throat, trying to look calm. “I knew that.”

“You sure?” he smirked.

“Yeah, it just took me off guard is all.” I said smiling.

He walked in front of me and leaned his arms on that counter that was separating us.

“Lisa told me how you and Jungkook don’t get along well.”

Damn Lisa and her love for gossiping.

“Yeah, you could say that.” I said, looking down at my hands.

“May I ask why?”

I looked up at him and sighed before I answered. “It’s nothing really, we just have different personalities.”

I could tell that he knew that wasn’t the whole reason, but thankfully he didn’t push it. I wanted to tell him that I hated Jungkook and that he’s the biggest douche I’ve ever met. But at the same time, I also don’t even know how I really felt about him anymore.

I also really want to fuck him, but I decided against telling him that for obvious reasons.

“I’m glad you came,” he said, walking around the counter until he was in front of me.

My crush on Yoongi has never fully gone away, and this was just bringing it all back.

“Me too.” I whispered as his head lowered, his mouth only a few inches from mine.

I could feel his breath fan across my lips, my own breathing rising rapidly. His eyes darted from my eyes to my lips as he lifted his hand, dragging his thumb against my bottom lip. He groaned when I pushed my tongue lightly against it.

He removed his finger and moved his mouth until it was hovering above mine. Before he could close the gap, someone cleared their throat. We both immediately pulled away at the sound and Yoongi quickly turned around.

“How about you guys get a room.”

I knew that voice anywhere, and it sounded pissed.

At that moment I realized I was about to kiss Yoongi, the man who Lisa has a crush on. I looked around Yoongi to see Jungkook staring at me, his expression one of anger. “I’m going to go back to bed. Goodnight Yoongi.” I said as I quickly walked past Jungkook, not making eye contact as I walked up the stairs.

I had just made it to my door and I was about to turn the handle when someone grabbed my arm and flipped me around, pressing my back against the door.

Before I could protest, his lips were on my neck.

He trailed his kisses down to my collarbone before he dragged his lips against my neck until he was at my ear.

“So you don’t text me back but you’ll fuck Yoongi in the kitchen?” he said, roughly pushing his body against mine.

“Jungkook” I sighed, breathing heavily.

He pushed his lips against mine, a soft moan escaping him. I didn’t even hesitate as I kissed back, wrapping my arms around his neck. He licked my lower lip and I immediately opened my mouth, groaning as his tongue connected with mine.

“Never forget that you’re a DUFF, sweetheart,” he growled, pushing his hips into me, his sweatpants doing nothing to hide his hardened length.

“Fuck you” I groaned out as he rocked his hips against mine.

“Don’t worry, I plan to,” he said into my mouth.

He began trailing his kisses down to my jaw, nibbling gently as his hand wandered under my shirt and teased the hem of my shorts.  

“I want to be inside of you so bad” He growled, placing his other hand against my hips to push me harder against him.

I whimpered as he reconnected our lips, his tongue invading my mouth as our tongues whirled together.  

My voice hitched at the feeling. “Jungkook, please.” 

“Please what?” He smirked, sucking on my lower lip and releasing it.

“I need you.” I said, squirming as he was pulling harder on my waistband.

“My room.” He said as he pulled away, his lips slightly swollen.

He turned around and I followed, realizing that the hallway light had been on this whole time.

And where was Yoongi? Oh shit.

I was a little too preoccupied to notice if he went back to his room because if he did, he would’ve seen everything. I couldn’t dwell on that thought for too long before I was being pushed.

Jungkooks lips reconnected with mine as he pushed me backwards into his room and towards the bed. I fell back against the mattress as he climbed on top of me, his body laying lightly on mine.

“Why didn’t you text me back?” he grumbled, putting his hand under my shirt and rubbing my bare stomach.

I flipped him over, wanting to gain control of the situation. I straddled his waist as I grabbed at the edges of his shirt, pulling it up over his chest. He lifted his back slightly off the mattress as he helped me take it off before throwing the shirt somewhere on the floor.

“Why should I listen to anything you say?” I asked, taking off my shirt and revealing that I wasn’t wearing a bra. I tossed my shirt on the floor, not caring where it landed.

“You’re such a fucking brat” He groaned, running his hands over my chest. He grabbed my boobs and massaged them in his hands.

I shuddered as I placed my hand over his bulge, lightly trailing my fingertips along the material of the sweatpants.

“Fuck” he whimpered. “Please touch me”

I wanted to tease him and make him beg for it, but my need to taste him was too much.

I wasted no time in pulling down his pants, his hardened length springing free. It rested against his stomach, already so hard that it almost looked painful with precum already leaking out of the tip. I was proud of myself for having that effect on him.

Before he realized what was happening, I stopped straddling him and laid between his legs, his dick a few inches from my mouth.

“Fuck. Are you going to use your pretty little mouth?” he growled, one hand coming to tug on my hair.

I didn’t answer, instead I dragged my tongue from the base all the way to the tip, swirling my tongue around to collect the precum. Jungkook moaned, his head leaning back to reveal the veins in his neck.

I could feel my own wetness start to dampen my underwear as I took all of his dick into my mouth, sucking hard.

“Oh god” He moaned, grabbing my hair and gently pulling. “Your mouth feels so good on my cock.”

I moaned, using one of my hands to wrap around the rest of his length that wouldn’t fit into my mouth. I moved my hand up and down, gliding my tongue against his length as I moved my mouth.

“Such a good girl,” he coaxed, gripping my hair tighter.

I sucked harder, the way his deep, raspy voice moaned his praise for me was turning me on more than I could’ve imagined.

“Baby, I’m not going to last much longer” He groaned as he tried not to thrust his dick deeper into my mouth.

I pulled away, continuing to stroke him as I looked up at him. He licked his lips as his chest contracted with every pulse of pleasure racing though him.

“Where should I cum?” He panted, his breathing erratic as he removed his hand from my hair and trailed it along my lips.

“I want to swallow it”

He mewled, strings of curse words leaving his lips.

“I want to taste you so bad.” I said, taking his length and putting it back into my mouth.

“You’re so fucking hot baby” He moaned, his abs constricting has the pleasure coursed through him.

I hummed as I sucked him deeper until he hit the back of my throat. That was all it took before he was releasing into my mouth, his cum sliding down my throat. My name left his lips repeatedly as he was riding out his high. I sat up and licked my lips as he stared at me, a light sheen of sweat covering his forehead.

“I’m going to ruin you.” was all he said before he sat up and twisted me around, throwing my back against the mattress.

My breath caught in my throat, excitement flowing through me. At this moment, I have never wanted anything more than him. I didn’t have time to realize how dangerous that thought was because at that moment he was pulling off my shorts, leaving me in only my underwear.

His eyes darkened as he took in my form, my underwear soaking wet and clinging to my leaking core.

He took his finger and lightly dragged it along my folds, causing me to whimper involuntarily.

“You’re dripping and I haven’t even touched you yet, baby.” he mewled, moving his body until his face was inches from my soaked underwear.

I couldn’t even speak, I just lifted my clothed core closer to his face. He chuckled as he pushed my hips down, keeping me in place.

“Eager?” he smirked as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my underwear and yanked down, causing my dripping core to be exposed to the cool air.

I sighed at the feeling but it wasn’t enough. He suddenly stuck his finger in my pussy and took it out immediately, not giving me  time to react before he stuck the wet finger in his mouth and sucked.

“You taste so fucking good,” he moaned, never taking his eyes off of me.  

It was such a lewd act that I would have laughed if another guy did it, but I could only groan as I watched him.

“Please,” was all I could muster out as I watched him remove his finger from his mouth and start  caressing the outskirts of my slit.

“Please what, baby?”  he whispered, his breath hitting my clit.

“Please Jungkook, I need you to touch me.” I begged, grabbing his hair and lightly tugging.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” was all he said before he attached his mouth to my clit and sucked harshly.

I moaned as my chest lifted upwards, my hips still being held down.

“Oh God Jungkook-” I cried out, my clit lighting up with the stimulation of his warm, wet mouth.

“Such a good girl,” Jungkook mumbled into my pussy as he now added in two fingers.

His fingers curled to hit every spot, my walls beginning to clench tightly around his fingers. He didn’t stop the abuse on my clit, now alternating between moving his tongue in circles and sucking harshly.

I felt him add in a third finger, the new stretch causing a burning sensation that only turned me on more. My orgasm was quickly approaching, my thighs trembling as I pulled Jungkook's hair tighter.

Jungkook continued to stroke my pussy at an even faster pace, finally letting go off my hips.

“That’s it baby, use me to get off,” he groaned, his fingers fucking into me mercilessly.

“Fuck!” I moaned loudly as I began rocking my hips against his hand, desperately trying to fuck his fingers into me deeper.

“Cum for me y/n.”

That was all it took before I could feel my orgasm race through my body. I collapsed against the mattress as I took in the euphoric feeling, my cum dripping out of me.

I could feel the mattress shift as Jungkook moved to lay next me, using his hand to cup my face. I smiled lightly as my chest heaved up and down, still trying to catch my breath.

He brought his lips to mine, kissing me gently. Butterflies erupted in my stomach at the sweet gesture.

I didn’t have long to enjoy this moment until someone knocked on the door.

“Hey Jungkook, have you seen Y/N?”

Shit, it was Lisa.

#bts #jungkook #jungkook bts #bts smut #btssmut #jungkooksmut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fancam #jungkook fluff #v smut #taehyung smut #bts scenarios #taehyung #jimin #jimin smut #jimin imagines #jimin fanfic #jhope smut #yoongi smut #suga smut #bts suga #rm smut #namjoon smut #bts jin #jin smut #bts gif #bts fic #jungkook imagine #bts fake text

[bluepriestess]

Chloe X Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: Smut! 18+ Only!, alcoholic drinks

Summary: Chloe and Reader have a little fun at the stations Christmas party 🎄

A/N: hi ok this is my first detroit become human fic so sorry if this isnt up to par with other fics youve read for this fandom lol :( if you have any advice and can phrase it in a non asshole way, drop it in the ask box (also I told you it was going to be gay @ax700)

You exited the taxi, cold, crisp air nipping at your skin. Snow fell like cherry blossoms from the sky and crunched under your feet as you made your way into the station.

It was December 23rd, 2039. A little over a year after the Android revolution. Everything had changed so much since then. Soon after, President Warren had passed an Android rights act stating that androids we're equal to humans and that they had to be treated as such, among other things. You had started working at the Detroit police station not too long after the revolution. The first 20 cases you had worked on were ones regarding human on android crimes. Even now, it was still hard for people who didn't believe they were alive to accept it.

You entered the station and loud music mixed with laughter filled your ears. Taking off your coat and scarf, you hand it to what looks like a dressing room attendant on the other side of the station's front desk. The woman in a black cardigan with her hair pulled into a ballerina bun gives you a warm smile as she gives you a little paper ticket with a number on it, probably so you know which bin had your belongings in. You notice the LED circle on the side of her head. Most androids removed theirs nowadays, as it wasn't required of them to have anymore.

You head into the office area and everything gets louder. Today is the office Christmas party, and everyone is really letting loose. You scan the room to find some familiar faces. Gavin is leaning against a wall, chatting up one of the regular secretaries who looks less than interested in what he has to say. You roll your eyes and look away, back to the crowd, eyes falling on Detective Collins and his wife, chatting with some other officers and their spouses.

Finally finding your friends, you make your way over to Hank and Connor, who are engaged in some heated conversation. You grab a drink off of a waiters tray who is passing by and lean against Hanks desk, next to Connor.

”You don't know what the fuck you're talking about, it's not like you've ever been on a date, ya tin can.” Hank yells over the music. Connor just shakes his head.

”Be that as it may, I still have infinite access to many channels on the internet and statistically speaking, just asking someone if they would like to get dinner sometime should work. My probability system says it has a 86% chance of working. 92% if you make idle conversation beforehand.” Connor says a matter of fact. You take a sip of the fruity drink before speaking.

”What are we arguing about now, children?” You lean forward a little bit to make sure they can hear you. Hank and Connor look at you and realize you're here. You can tell Hank is going to change the subject but Connor beats him to the punch.

”Hank was asking for dating advice. But now he is refusing it because I have never been on a date.” Connor says, turning to face you. Hank looks away in frustration, getting a giggle from you.

“Don’t get too carried away, I don’t want to have to arrest you two for getting into a fist fight over who knows how to woo someone better.”

You looked away at the crowd and that's when you see her. She was one of Kamski’s many Chloe androids. She had the signature low ponytail, but she had on a floral long sleeved crop top and matching pencil skirt. You had talked to her a million times while on duty, as she worked as an android crisis counselor for androids who had just come out of an abusive situation. Her office was deeper in the station. She was one of few Chloes that had decided to leave Kamskis after the revolution.

She was chatting with some other android officers, drink in hand. You don't hear Hank say something to you until Connor is waving his hand in front of your face.

”Speaking of relationship advice, looks like you need some.” Hank teases. You give him the death glare as your face turns bright red, either from embarrassment or the alcohol, but whose to say. ”You've been fawning after her for months, maybe you should go talk to her.”

”As inexperienced as Hank is, I have to agree.” Connor says, laughing as he earns a smack in the chest from Hank.  You bite your lip and look back to her, she happens to look over at you at the same time. Your eyes go wide and you turn away immediately, face growing redder. Hopefully, you could survive this night without your heart giving out.

*****

4 drinks in, it was easy to tell you were feeling it. Face flush, hair slightly slicked with sweat, and giggly as hell. You had started to mingle with other officers and detectives when your liquid courage started to flow through your veins. You hung on one of your colleagues as you laughed at something they said.

”I’ll be right back, don't have too much fun without me!” You said, laughing. The group waved you off. The trek to the bathroom was slow, even though you weren't completely drunk. Having 4 inch, thin stemmed heels didn't help though.

The bathroom was dimly lit, and empty. Your heels clicked against the tile as you made your way over to the mirror. Your makeup was still intact, believe it or not. You looked at yourself in the mirror for a moment, doing the ”drunk stare at self in the mirror” thing, when you heard someone walk in. You turned to look at the person and froze.

Chloe gave you a warm smile and nod, walking over to a sink a few down from yours, and checked her own makeup. You must have been staring like a deer in the headlights because she turns to you and says, ”Is there something on my face?” You, for some reason, look around and then back to her.

”Are you talking to me?” You whisper, mind imploding on itself. Every part of your body was on fire and Ice at the same time. She was perfect in every way, besides for the fact that she was designed that way. Who she was as a person, amazed you.

She looked around, confused, but quickly dismissed it.

”We haven't seen much of each other lately. How have you been?” She takes a few steps in your direction until she is right in front of you. Even though you feel your heart in your throat, you reply.

”I-I’ve been good... How have y-you've been?” You manage to get out, trying to play it cool. She looks at you with what looks like adoration, but you refuse to see it.

”I have been enjoying my time here at the station. I would be enjoying it a lot more if I got to be out in the main office, with everyone, with you.” This causes you to nearly fall over, but you death grip the counter so you don't.

”W-What do you mean? Your office is lovely. Wish I could be in there- I mean in that area, not your office, not saying being in your office with you is a bad thing but I-” You're cut off by Chloe cupping your cheek with her hand and pulling you into a deep kiss. You're caught off guard, to say the least, but you slowly ease into the kiss, resting your hand on her waist.

She pulls away and tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, trailing her hand down your jawline.

”I've been wanting to do that for a while now.” She says, her voice sounds like honey, warm and sweet.

”Me too...” You trail off.

Her eyes light up. She grabs your hand and leads you out of the bathroom. You go the opposite way of the party and head towards the station bunk room. It's a room with a couch, a little kitchen, and some beds. It's not used as much anymore since androids were made, so officers aren't spending hours upon hours at the office and needing a place to crash.

She peaks in and sees it in it's usual state, empty. She pulls you in and slams the door shut, locking the door. Before you can say anything, you're pushed against the door, your lips on hers. Her hands are keeping your hips flush against hers. Your mind is reeling, and barely processing what's happening until she does something new that restarts your brain all over again.

She licks your lower lip, trying to gain entry into your mouth. You give it to her, and you moan into her. Her hands begin to explore your body, giving your ass a squeeze before she snakes her hand up your shirt to massage your chest.

Her lips leave your mouth to start kissing and sucking on your neck. Your hand makes it way up to her hair, entangling yourself in it, giving it a light grip. She moans as you do this, she then lightly bites neck. You gasp out more of surprise than pain, but she continues to give little love bites all up and down your neck and shoulders.

She slowly starts to guide you over to a bed, taking your shirt off as you go. You fall back onto the small bed and Chloe climbs onto of you, immediately kissing your jawline, and moving down. You put one hand back into her hair and rest the other at your side, gripping the sheets. She makes her way to your chest and leaves hickeys all over. She moves her hand under your back to unclip your bra, but first she looks to you for permission, which you hastily nod your head, causing her to giggle.

She flings your bra to the ground and you fight back the urge to cover your chest. This is the first time you had really been vulnerable like this, let alone with an android, with a woman. She seems to sense your hesitation.

”If at any point you want to stop or slow down, let me know.” She says as she plants a kiss on your forehead. This relaxes you and sparks a new fire inside you.

She cups one of your breasts and runs her thumb over your hardened bud. You inhale sharply and ease into her touch. She takes your other nipple into her mouth as she fondles the other. You moan and grip the sheets tightly.  You never in a million years would have thought this is how you would spend today. Engaging in questionable activities with your coworker while at work.

Chloe lightly biting your nipple brought you back to reality with a gasp. You opened your eyes to look at Chloe. She had her own eyes fixed on yours, causing you to whimper. It was a simple action, yet so intimate.

You ground your hips against her knee that was in between your legs, needing some kind of friction. She caught on what you were signaling and removed her hand from your breast. She slowly traced her hand down your stomach and stopped at the hem of our leggings. She slipped one finger into your hemline and began to pull them down.

You raised your hips slightly so that she could pull down your leggings, helping her with your free hand. You kicked off your heels and shimmied off  your leggings next. You were completely naked under Chloe. She pulls back for a moment to admire you, making you blush. Her eyes shift from loving to lustful within a moments notice.

She leans down to kiss you as her hand reaches down and massages your thigh, making you squeak out of surprise. She softly laughs against your lips. Her hand begins to move upward until she is just centimeters from your heat. She pulls back to make sure you’re comfortable. You nod and she comes back down to kiss you neck.

Her fingers trace your slit and you groan, you haven’t been touched like this in so long. You can faintly hear the bustle of the party, hoping that no one will interrupt.

Her fingers gather a little bit of your slick and begins to massage circles around your clit, your hips instinctively move with her hand.

“I’ve dreamed of this for a while now, since the first time I saw you...” Chloe whispers to your ear.

“Me too...” You say breathless. She removes her fingers from your clit and inserts one digit inside, curling it. You whimper. She pumps slowly at first but then transitions to a stay pace, adding another finger. You drag your nails down her back as you quietly moan.

She suddenly removes her and brings it up to her face, licking her fingers, which causes you to blush even more, if that’s even possible.

“You taste so good.” She says as she gets up and positions her head between your legs, holding onto your thighs with her hands. You can’t believe she’s about to go down on you.

She kisses your inner thighs up to your mound, and then kisses your slit. You lay your head back and groan. Your eyes squeezed shut.

She pokes her tongue and slowly circles your clit, your hips angle upward in response. This was the first time anyone had ever gone down on you, you could already tell it was going to blow your mind.

She gives you a few licks up and down your entrance before focusing on your clit, as she fingers you. You let out a moan, toes curling. You look down at her and make eye contact with Chloe’s perfectly blue eyes. How long had she been watching you come undone by her doing?

She picked up her pace and then you started to feel the coil in your loins start to form.

“Chloe... I’m uh...” You pressed your head into the mattress, breathing becoming loud and heavy. You knew you should have tried to be quiet but it just felt so goddamn good you couldn’t help yourself.

You moaned Chloe’s name loudly as you came, Chloe keeping you hips in place as she let you ride her face to your finish.

As you came down from your high Chloe had moved out from between your legs and kneeled at the side of the bed, resting her head on her arms as she just simply stared at you. You looked at her with your glazed over, post orgasm eyes.

“I suppose we should get back to the party...” Chloe said, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“Or we can go back to my place and pop in a movie? If you want I mean... I feel like I need to do something in return for you doing... that....” You said as you got up to redress. Chloe weighed her options for a moment.

“I would like that very much.” Chloe stood and helped you fix your hair so it didn’t scream “I just got blown and finger blasted at my place of business”.

You and Chloe unlock the door and begin to walk out when you’re met with a blushing Hank and Connor. You just stare at the other pair in horror, mouth agape.

“Chloe was just showing me the old bunk room, I didn’t even know we had it, nice party isn’t it? Ok gotta go!” You grab Chloe’s hand and make a b line for the party, a laughing Chloe in tow, leaving Hank and Connor glued in place, shocked.

You could hear Hank yell after you, “That’s not what I meant when I said to talk to her!”

#chloe dbh #detroit become human #chloe rt600 #chloe x reader #dbh #my fics

[lazywriter7]

Blind date part 3

for @mega-mathi​ who inspired me to finally finish this, and @ishipallthings​ whose prompt it was originally based on:  “you’re supposed to be on a blind date with someone but you sat down at the wrong table and i haven’t been able to get a word in edgewise to tell you that and it’s been thirty minutes” au

Read part one here

Read part two here

He caught her in an elevator.

Well, not quite. He was waiting on the ground floor, trying to remember how to whistle without his hands. It seemed like a whistling kind of moment. Or a whistling kind of day.

Tongue to the back of the throat, loosen the jaw… The elevator dinged quietly, steel doors opening with a swish. Steve did his best to straighten up whatever odd face he’d been pulling.

Judging from Natasha’s almost-expression, he didn’t quite succeed. She was in a dark green sweater that hung loosely on her frame, hair scooped on her neck in a side-bun. She was the loveliest, most generous angel to ever walk the face of this planet.

Oh Stevie.

They moved in synchrony, switching places smoothly as Steve stepped in and Natasha moved out. Steve turned around and shot what was probably the soppiest smile he’d ever sported in her direction. “Thanks. He was great.”

A tiny pause. “He.” Natasha repeated, with absolutely no inflection whatsoever.

The elevator doors closed.

(read more link below)

Any other person would have scrambled for the ‘open door’ button immediately. Steve had faster reflexes than most people.

He stood, motionless, staring at his discoloured reflection in the elevator doors as it began to rise.

Steady jazz started tinkling somewhere in the background – he remembered being…if not soothed, then touched by the thought the first time he’d taken the elevator in Avengers Tower.

“JARVIS, could you turn off the music please.”

The music subsided.

He watched it happen over seventy-one floors. Watched his expression waver, smile crumpling inwards, before his jaw took over and set itself – firm and brittle. Watched the thoughts and realisations track through his eyes, overcast blues turning leaden. It was a remarkable parallel of his thought processes down in the café, actually…before he’d sat down. Three minutes of mounting hope and epiphany, in exact reverse.

Tony Stark was in the café. Tony Stark owned the Tower the café was at, and even if he didn’t, was perfectly within his rights to be there. There was no logical explanation for Tony Stark to be hanging around at a sub-par café the afternoon of Steve’s date. Tony Stark had access to the common area feeds, and probably spied on Natasha persuading Steve into a blind date.

The data was all the same – Steve had just come to the utterly wrong conclusion. Because he was biased and blind. And stupid and lonely.

Tony Stark likes me and wants to date me.

– versus Tony Stark took an hour out of his extremely busy schedule to spy on Steve making a complete fool out of himself on a date with another woman.

Yeah. The winner was pretty clear on that one.

It was…funny, probably. That’s why Tony did it. It was funny, and Steve didn’t get it, because he didn’t get most jokes these days. Like those videos of men proposing to their da – girlfriends, and getting awkwardly rejected and people taping the whole thing and livestreaming and tweeting and whatever else they did these days, snarky commentary that got a thousand likes. He could hear it even now: here we can observe the dinosaur far removed from its natural habitat; a clumsy old drip tryna be smooth and thinking he’s got something to offer to a billionaire – except he couldn’t even fucking make fun of himself right because people in this century didn’t even say drip anymore.

The elevator dinged. The steel doors slid open, Steve staring beyond into the recesses of his darkened floor.

“Captain?” JARVIS prompted quietly.

Steve exited the elevator, moving on autopilot for a few paces before coming to a standstill. The entire place was ‘open plan’, nothing but shine and glass and a sense of uneasiness that burrowed itself deep into Steve’s spine. It had taken months upon months to get over, an inch of tension unscrewing with every day – until Steve had woken up to a sea of rose and gold one morning, a startlingly bright sunrise that seemed to bleach all the shadows away.

Now the sun had already dipped below the horizon, everything he could see tinted dusk-grey. Not that there was much to see – the whole point of this kind of design was to ‘declutter the space’, never mind that it just felt empty. He could…he could move towards the kitchenette, make himself a pot of tea; steam winding idly up, crockery clinking loudly in the silence. Or flip through channels on his television, or climb into bed and pull the covers over his head, staring at absolutely nothing.

His head was silent.

“Captain. Sir is requesting your presence in his workshop, if you would please.”

Fuck him, Steve thought, with absolutely no emotion left to muster. Except that didn’t…that wasn’t…

That wasn’t quite right.

Only to those who deserve it. And he’d been so sure about it too, felt it settle deep in his heart of cemented convictions. Yet it didn’t quite…line up with what Steve was feeling now: resentment broken apart, all raw and tender inside. It’s probably funny didn’t align with the phantom warmth of Tony’s hand for three hours straight, with his tiny, indrawn breath every time Steve called him by name.

It was hard. Hard to remember all the verbal blunders, the stammering, and not feel the sense of doomed certainty creeping on – it all just made so much sense, if it were a joke. If Steve was the butt of it all, the dope who got told ‘you just won a million dollars!’ and believed it while people snickered behind hidden cameras. If this was another rejection in a long line of rejections, for something Steve hadn’t even known he wanted until three hours ago.

Except…and this was the part he kept butting up against. The part where Steve was feeling absolutely miserable, and the idea that that had been Tony’s intention.

“Cap, I think there’s been a-”

“My fault entirely, shouldn’t have come here in the first place. You should probably look for the person you actually–”

“I vote both. Can we do both?”

“It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.”

When he breathed next, it came a little lighter – anxiety loosening its hold on his chest. Maybe he was wrong and it was all just an elaborate construction of ridicule; but damn if Steve was going to be cowardly enough not to find out for sure.

“Tell him I’ll be there.”

~

He hadn’t realised until now, how different Tony had looked in the café.

It was probably the lighting. Everything about Tony’s face was sharp, deeply angular: the lines of his beard and the jut of his chin, and the penetrating, fluorescent light that Steve always saw him under only enhanced this effect. Iron Man was the one who flourished under the sun – swooping across blue skies in a swirl of fiery colour, bright enough to blind.

In the café, he’d looked…mellower, the golden rays of afternoon gentling his lines and edges; yet oddly still compelling. It was the difference, perhaps, between felt tip and oil paint – less polish, more intensity. Now, he was Tony Stark again – industrial-white bulbs overhead lighting his cheekbones in straight, unbroken lines. He was in the same t-shirt, hoodie out of sight, and his eyes appeared black enough to match.

(And yet, out of the corner of his eye, Steve could glimpse maroon wool – the scarf looped round and round what appeared to be a robotic arm.)

“I’m glad you came.” Tony started, words falling quick and efficient. His gaze was fixed just slightly off of Steve’s face, at some point beside his right ear. “There is something that I should’ve…something I need to tell you before you–”

“I spoke to Natasha.”

Tony fell silent. He blinked, thrice in rapid succession; nothing like the languid movements that had captivated Steve so only a couple of hours ago. He looked like he was trying to re-centre himself.

“I didn’t deserve it.” Steve said. “Not this time.”

Studied stillness, like the kind that came only by actively holding back a flinch. Steve watched Tony very carefully not react. Not argue, only dip his head after a second and quietly voice, “I’m sorry.”

Defend yourself you idiot.

But that was okay. That was okay, because Steve was here and he might be the actual worst at first date conversation, but this. This he knew how to do.

There were no rules to bravery, no ways to judge, no way to fuck it up. Just to take the leap.

“Peggy always used to say that nuance was lost on me.” He didn’t stutter over her name, linger on its ending consonants with bitterness at the back of his throat. He just sounded fond. “She and Colonel Phillips used to have these long-drawn discussions about the changing state of international politics – countries and diplomacies and agendas. I listened in, and I appreciated it but…sometimes it just seemed a step removed from relevance.”

“In the field, I have to keep every possible factor in mind before making a call. But at some point, that means to stop thinking and start doing.” Despite his words, he was fidgeting with the base of his thumb. Steve stilled his hands, straightened his shoulders. His heartbeat was kicking up in his ears. “Sometimes it’s easier to…let the overwhelming complexity of it slide away, and simply make a choice.”

“I know that this isn’t that simple.” Except for how it also is. Steve lifted his chin, felt the pulse leap and skitter in his throat like something terrified and utterly free. “But to me, today was one of two things.”

“Either Tony Stark liked me,” Tony stared back at him, dark eyes and trembling mouth and absolutely no doubt whatsoever, “or he was an asshole. And we both know how I feel about the second option.”

Moments trailed away, ears ringing and veins flushed with adrenaline. No matter what happened next, Steve would never forget how this felt. Breathing and speaking and being, without the weight of anxiety bending his head.

Tony stalked across the workshop floor, movements so decisive that Steve almost took a step back. For a second he expected to be gripped around the collar, jerked down to Tony’s level – but Tony stopped scant inches away, breaths controlled and eyes on fire. When he spoke, it was as direct and non-tangential as Steve had ever heard him.  

“I knew you were on a blind date and when I heard you were planning to meet at the Tower itself, I couldn’t help myself. I never intended to take over the date. Or to hurt you in any way.”

“I know–”

“You still need to hear it.” Tony cut through, bluntly succinct. He’d never sounded sincerer. “Also you’re goddamn incredible.”

It wasn’t a joke. And Steve had already known – but it was the difference between closing your eyes and leaping without a parachute, and the moment you were caught. It was staring into Tony’s eyes, breaths ramping up together; like they were seventy feet in the air and still flying, and never wanting to come down.

Tony leaned up.

Steve’s hands spasmed by his side – oh god oh god oh god oh look my anxiety’s back – fingers flexing in imagined, desperate sense-memory: the worn cotton of Tony’s t-shirt, the stubbled underside of his jaw, the thin skin of his eyelids, the spiky softness of his hair. So many places to reach out towards, to touch and stroke and hold, and Steve couldn’t seem to bring himself to–

And then it didn’t matter, because Tony’s lips were right there and Steve closed his eyes. A feather-light touch, a single point of contact. Dry heat and absolute stillness – like they were balanced, perfectly, on the edge and neither wanted to move and break the spell. God, Tony could probably feel Steve’s cheeks blazing with heat from this distance – and it didn’t matter because Steve could feel Tony’s and this was–

Perfect.

Tony pulled away slowly, settling down on the balls of his feet. He seemed a little out of it, tone faintly starstruck. “I feel like I just got kissed by Prince Charming.”

“Oh. Um.” This was far from Steve’s first kiss since the forties, though some people might call this barely a kiss. It didn’t matter. It was perfect. “Sorry?”

“No no, it’s fine.” Tony batted his hands distractedly, still a little wondrous. “I like Disney movies better than pornos anyway.”

“We don’t have to choose.” Steve replied on autopilot – and Tony froze in place for a second, before swaying forward until his forehead hit Steve’s shoulder, hiding his snickers in Steve’s plaid shirt. Because somehow Steve had found a man who appreciated both his deeply visceral awkwardness, as well as his out-of-body sass.

Tony breathed warm and damp against Steve’s chest before tilting his head sideways, bristly beard hairs scraping distractingly over thin cloth. His resting cheek rose and fell with Steve’s breaths, and he glanced up in a smile that could wreck millions. “Blue.”

Steve, who was expecting some kind of devastating comeback/come-on, wrinkled his brows in confusion. Tony’s small, answering laugh vibrated against his chest. “My favourite colour.”

Right, right. First date conversation. Steve wracked his, admittedly slow-functioning brain for an appropriate follow up. Sue him, he had a Tony Stark in his arms. “What shade?”

Tony’s lips curved into something dreamy, taffy-sweet. “Steve-blue.”

Steve stared back, more than a little light in the head. His mouth was moving outside his volition, “That’s not a–”

Tony stretched up on his toes, pecked him again – a soft murmur to punctuate the motion. “Is to me.”

Steve shut his eyes. Waited, for reality to kick back in, for sanity to kick him in the head. Speaking of which –

You’ve been quiet.

You had it handled. Bucky’s voice replied in his head, wry and proud. Now go back to life, hotshot.

When Steve opened his eyes, Tony was still there. He didn’t teach kindergarten by day, or work in puppy shelters by night, though Steve was pretty sure that Tony did more humanitarian work than all the NYC charities combined. He’d probably laugh himself silly at all of Steve’s creased Pocono Mountains brochures, and drag him kicking and screaming to Hawaii in summer. He was an Avenger, and a good man, and…

Always think of the brightest outcome possible before entering a situation.

“I don’t think I could’ve imagined you if I had tried.”

“Well then.” Tony smiled slowly, like the start of a new day and the morning sunrise. “Suppose it’s a good thing you don’t have to.”

~fin

#ao3 link coming soon #fanfic #stony #avengers 1 era #angst and fluff #steve rogers #tony stark #complete

[snake-house]

America X Reader X France - bite. pt 1

Warning[s]: sexual themes, maybe light language. her/she pronouns used for reader when you see this '--' it just means some times has passed yes, vampires. ______

"You're one of them now..."  a voice called out to you. Everything was black. You just assumed you were dead, or at least passed out. A warm hand pressed itself to your cheek, urging you to awake from your slumber. Was it really there? Or were you hallucinating the feeling? Your eyes fluttered open, your vision going out of focus immediately. Letting your senses come back to you, you started to remember what happened. 

--

A moan slipped past your lip as he finally removed your last piece if clothing. Your eyes were rolled back in your head in complete bliss. 

One of his hands was busy with your breast while his mouth busied itself with leaving love bites across your chest, as his other hand had his fingers rocking steadily in and out of your heat. 

"A...Alfred, I can't take it any-anymore," You chocked out, feeling your end getting ready to come crashing down on you. "Please-please, oh my god.."

The blonde looked up at you, you always thought he looked ten times sexier without his glasses on, smirking at you as he removed his fingers from you and taking his dear time licking off your fluids. Your face flushed just at the sight of it. 

"Since you asked so nicely," Alfred said with a small chuckle and lined his length with your entrance, suddenly getting a serious look, "I love you, so much, I hope you know that..." He whispered before he sheathed himself in you. 

Your mouth opened in a silent moan, your head falling back against the pillow. Then his teeth were on you. Quick and hard, sinking into your neck. All you felt what pain, just a burning sensation coming from where Alfred was biting you. 

"A-Al!! Stop it! That hurts!" You screeched, trying to shove him off of you, but it wasn't helping. All the passion he filled built up in you stopped flowing, all the pleasure you were feeling was replaced with this pain. It was like he was anchored to your neck. 

As you struggled for him to stop and get off of you, his hips still working against you diligently, your movements started to slow, your eyes dropping. 

When everything was starting to go black, Alfred drew back, your blood dripping from his mouth, a look of anguish on his face. 

"I love you [Name], I love you so much." He breathed out, and you were out. If he called this love, you weren't sure if you knew the emotion at all anymore. --

You bolted up, looking around frantically, you had the sensation that your pulse was racing, but it wasn't. Your heart wasn't beating as frantically like it felt, it wasn't beating at all. 

By the looks of it, you were still in Alfred's room, as well as still nude. Getting a better look around the room, it had to be at least noon by the way the sun was filtering through the blinds. And Alfred wasn't there.

Your clothes were folded neatly at your feet, as well as your shoes being on top of them. 

With caution, you got up and quickly put on your clothes. But as you did, stepping into sunlight and it burned, like you accidentally touching a hot pan. 

Thinking nothing of it, you finished getting dressed and put your shoes on, and went to find Alfred to ask what he did to you last night. 

The entire house was empty. There was a thought that Alfred maybe just somewhere else in the home, but he wasn't. 

You didn't know what to do. Was there anything you could do?

Without thinking and just out of instinct, you called your best friend of, Francis. "'ello?" The familiar French accent said on the other side.

"Hello? Francis?" Your voice was shaking, even though you tried to hide it, but hearing his voice comforted you. 

"[Name]? What's wrong? Did something happen?" You knew he had been asleep, but with his tired tone you could tell he was worried. 

You smiled at this slightly before replying, "I'm alright, but I don't know what happened." You answered honestly, "Alfred and I were, um, having sex last night and he bit me," You had to pause to stop yourself from getting too emotional, "And he wouldn't stop. Now he's gone. He's not in the house, and the light hurts, I don't know why it hurts," You were starting to tear up, you were scared, "Francis, what's wrong with me?" 

There was a silence, an eerie silence, but it thankfully didn't last long, "[Name], I'm coming to get you, just stay inside. Where are you at?"

"I'm at Alfred's house, you know where that is right?" 

"Oui, I'll be there in a few." And he hung up.  

You did just as he said and stayed inside. You were on edge, too nervous to sit down or even watch a little tv, so you stood in the kitchen. Every once in a while glancing at the front door. 

Fifteen minutes later the doorbell rang. 

"Francis." You breathed out as soon as you opened the door. 

The Frenchman was clad in his usual wear. A loose, long-sleeve button up, and a pair of rather casual slacks and dress shoes, as well as his sunglasses and his iconic black umbrella he always had with him. 

He flashed you a grin as you wrapped your arms around him. 

"It's alright, let's get out of 'ere," Francis said, letting go of you and gesturing to his car. 

You didn't answer, you just nodded at his words and let him lead you away from the house.

As the two of you drove away from your boyfriend's house, your mind was throbbing from everything that was going on. You didn't even ask where you were going, you just let him drive and drive. Although you did explain what happened last night, everything that you remembered at least. When the car started to slow down, you immediately recognized Francis's gorgeous house. You always envied him for keeping such a beautiful home. It wasn't a mansion, but it might be considered a small one. His home was on the edge of town, where all the old homes resided, his being one of them of course. But, even thought it had an old design on the outside, Francis had renovated the entire inside of his house to be very up-to-date with all the neat modern upgrades. With these upgrades, you could probably marry his kitchen. Francis pulled his car into the garage, closing it behind the car. -- "I'm not understanding what you're saying," You answered honestly, "What do you mean you're a vampire?" The Frenchman sighed, he knew it was going to be a lot to take in, he just thought that maybe telling you his secret first would be easier. "I mean exactly what I said." He said, softer this time and adding, "Alfred, Alfred is one too, and Arthur, but we're the only ones in this area. I know many more vampires, but in Europe right now." Your eyes closed, trying to comprehend this information, and sat on his couch. He was a vampire? And Alfred was one too? Why did he bite you? Did he ever love you or where you just a meal. Tears started stinging the corners of your eyes. "[Name]," The couch dipped beside you as Francis sat beside you, placing his hand on your shoulder, "I know this is a lot for you to take in right now, so I won't explain anything else until you're ready, is that ok?" You nodded, "I'm ok with you continuing, but... Why wouldn't Alfred tell me?" You asked and turned to look at him, the pain in your eyes burned deep within himself, "We've been dating for over a year, he's the only boyfriend where I told him I loved him. We were talking about marriage... And he didn't tell me?" You were heart broken, did you know what love was? And the tears started falling. "Ma chérie," Francis wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug, which you returned without question, "I 'ave no doubt that Alfred loved you, but I 'ave no excuse for 'im not telling you anything." He pressed a kiss to your temple before pulling away from the hug, "May I look at your neck?" He asked softly. When you nodded and tilted your head to the side for him to see, he outlined the bite with his pointer finger lightly and sighed, "What's wrong?" You asked as you wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. "Well," he started, he seemed sad, "By the way the bite doesn't seem clean cut, most likely from you struggling, and the fact the bite isn't directed towards your jugular vein, and more in your shoulder area, I can only assume he was probably trying to force a mating bond with you." What? "Mating bond?" "Yes, mating bond. It's kind of our own version of a marriage certificate, but different. It's something that bonds two souls together, usually done between two vampires, but can be done between a vampire and a human, but it only is successful if both participants are conscious of what is occurring and both want it. But since you didn't know what was going on, it failed." You were going to interrupt him, but as if he was reading your mind he continued before you had the chance, "Even though he bit you during sex, and because you were in a relationship, it was still forced onto you. You may have wanted to marry him, but this is a different thing." He paused, "You know what, let me make us some tea, because this is going to be a long talk." Francis said with a smile and stood up from the couch, you following. "That sounds nice actually," You said as you followed him to his kitchen. -- After the kettle was heated and the tea leaves were steeping in the teapot, he continued where he left off, "Human and vampire bonding 'as some differences than a normal vampire-vampire bonding. Eventually the human in the relationship will become a vampire, but it is not instant, it's a process. If Alfred and you were on the same page about the bond, you would have never passed out, nor would you have felt any pain when he bit you. You would have felt warm and fall asleep, and the first change would have happened in your sleep, that's when your souls sync. The next day you both would start to feel each others emotions, if he was sad, you would be sad and so on. Similar things like that would continue to happen, and after about a month, you would be a vampire without the pain." The cup of tea you poured for yourself sat still and untouched, "What-What does that mean about what's going on right now?" "It means, because the bond failed," Francis looked down at his hands, which were wrapped around his tea cup, "you are already started to shift into a vampire, hence the light sensitivity." "I didn't ask for this..." you whispered, looking up at him with pleading eyes, "What do I do? I don't know what to do.." Francis knew you were on the verge of a panic attack, so he shot up to kneel next to you at the kitchen table, "I know, it's ok, you're going to get through this, we are going to get through this. I won't ever leave your side, I'll help you every step of the way. I know from first hand experience how lonely this life is, but you'll never be lonely, I promise [Name]." You gave the Frenchman a teary smile and wrapped your arms around him, he always knew what to say to you, "Thank you, really." He smiled, pressing another kiss to your forehead, "You don't need to thank me really, I love you with all my 'eart, I would never wish this fate upon my worst enemy, and god knows I would never wish it upon you."  He brushed your bangs out of your face before adding, "You can even move in here with me for a while, if you want. It may 'elp you get used to the new lifestyle." You grinned at the idea before thinking about Alfred, your smile dropping into a frown, "I would love that, but, what's going to happen to Alfred?" The blond was wondering when you were going to ask about him and gave you a somber smile, "Alfred is probably out of the country," you sucked in a quick breath, waiting for Francis to explain, "In our society, forcing a mating bond onto another person, regardless of species, it one of the 'ighest offenses you can commit. When 'e realized the bond failed, 'e probably fled. Alfred is a pretty young vampire, not even a century old yet, 'e couldn't 'ave known any better, though 'e should 'ave." Francis added bitterly, "Anyways, 'e'll be in 'iding for years, or at least until the council gets word you 'ave successfully change into a vampire and don't 'ave any threatening intentions towards Alfred," "Even though he did this to me, I could never, I gave too much of my life to him," you butted in, making Francis laugh. "I knew you would say that, but are you alright with this though, letting go of him?" With a confident smile you nodded. "I will be." -- A few months have passed since you died. Well, sort of. So many things have happened in those few months. Francis helped you move into his home, you had free choice of which of the 4 spare bedrooms you wanted. And things changed. It was really hard to adjust to this new life you had to call yours. You cried yourself to sleep many many nights in a row, about Alfred, about having to deal with the fact of living forever, about Francis. He told you he had been around for centuries, that it was during the French Revolution, the late 1700's, when he was bitten. You cried because he has never aged since his 26th birthday, he has had such a lonely life, and you hurt for him. The first month was hell. Despite the crying, there was the longing for Alfred. You just wanted to chase after him and find to, and tell him you forgive him, and try to live happily ever after. But after the feeling of longing left, resentment settled in, and you wanted to skin the man alive. He took away everything from you. You would never get to see your family anymore, and had to stage a death with Francis. You would never have the pleasure of having kids. Alfred took your life away without asking. The second month was not as bad. You were more at peace with the situation, but dark thoughts and feelings still lingered. Francis told you about the makeshift family of vampires that he has all over the world. Because when you live for multiple lifetimes, you can save up enough money to travel all over the world without having it make a large dent in your wallet. He said he has a home in France, one here in America, as well as one in Canada and Japan. However, his real home will always be in France, he just likes to move around so people don't start to get suspicious. Around the third month, he started talking about feeding. He said, contrary to popular belief, new vampires can go the longest without feeding, because their bodies are still changing. Francis brought this up when he saw the way you started to flinch around people, meaning your body was getting hungry. It was sad, you thought, when he showed you how to feed off of a pair of drunk homeless people without killing them or turning them. They would still bare the scars of being bitten, but not a vampire. Francis feeds once a month, and said that you could start at every other month for now. "Hey Francis?" You called as you walked into his study where he was reading. The said man looked up from his book, "Oui?" "When do you plan on moving again?" You asked curiously, leaning against the door frame. His lips quirked into a smile when he heard your words, "Funny you should ask," He started, putting his bookmark inside his book before setting it down, "I was thinking of soon, especially since your funeral was a month ago, so it would be pretty bad if someone saw you. You will be joining me, right?" Your face erupted in a hot, heated blush, "I-I mean, yeah sure, if you'll have me." Francis smiled at your reaction, what did you expect? For him to kick you out? "Belle, I wouldn't 'ave it any other way, you'll always be welcome." He stood from his reading chair and approached you, brushing your bangs away from your face. You unconsciously leaned towards his hand, he had become your safety net, the one thing that was solid in your life. "Where do you want to go?" His question caught you off guard, "Huh?" You said looking up at him. "Where do you want to move?" He clarified. There wasn't another blush on your cheeks, it was now a warmth that spread throughout your whole body. It was your choice? You didn't have a choice with how you can live anymore, but I guess you do have a choice of where you have to start this life. And Francis was going to be there to help you through it. After a moments thought, you answered, "Can we go to France? I want to officially start this life as a vampire where you started." "Of course," Francis's gentle laugh filled your ears, "I would love nothing more, I'll book the flights." The blond kissed the top of your head before going back to his desk and opening his laptop, you assumed to go ahead and book your flights to France. As if he could read your thoughts, he added, "I've been at this for a long time, you'll learn eventually, but for now you don't need to worry about anything." "Thank you," There wasn't anything else you could have thought to say. "You're welcome." -- When Francis said you were the first human he let himself get close to in many many years, you didn't know what to think. He has had people who were close to him die, and after some troubling deaths, he refused to become more than just acquaintances with humans. But with you, Francis said he changed his mind, that though his life may be long, others were short, and if he could make a positive impact, he would bare the hurt of when they die. It had been five years since you and Francis moved to France. You thought you would be doing a lot of sight seeing when you arrived, but you were wrong. Francis told you that you were not aloud to go anywhere you wanted until you could successfully mingle with the locals, or rather, be fluent in French with a flawless accent. You agreed, of course, but you grumbled at the beginning of each daily lesson. But the trips to the market and into town helped as practice, meaning after a half a year you were fluent. After three months you could order for yourself in a restaurant, but not perfect. You could have been mad at Francis for making you wait to finally see the Eiffel tower, you realized you had the time. But, it took you a long time to realize something, something very important. But, you don't know when you started realizing it. It could have been when you started to notice the way the sun shone in his blue eyes when the two of you would go on a morning jog. Maybe it was the warmth you felt when he would say your name, or when he brushed your hair out of your face, or even when he would go out of his way to do things for you. You weren't sure where it started, but you were going to do something about it. "I think I'm in love with you." The words just fall out of your mouth one day. You both were taking a lazy day, he was organizing his bookshelves in his office, saying he wanted a new feel to his books, and you were painting your nails. Francis turned to look at you with a face than read so many things. There was shock evident, that was for sure, and maybe some relief? "You think so?" He repeated. "I do," You simply replied, closing your bottle of [color] nail polish. "Would it be ok if I was?" You asked, sitting up as he walked up to you. Francis' smile was one of your favorite things on this world, and when it was directed at you, it filled you with that warmth that could only be described a love, "It would be more than ok with me if you were, and if the feelings were mutual?" He added. A small laugh left your lips, "Well," you started, standing up so the two of you were only inches apart, "I guess we'll just have to find out." And he kissed you, or did you kiss him? No matter who initiated it, it happened, and you were so glad it happened. The kiss would have put ever cliche love novel to shame, because it was amazing. It was sweet and pure, a blur of lips against lips, and a bunch of disgusting smooching noises, and didn't last long. "Does this mean you want to bond with me?" You teased, quite amused by the bright blush that surfaced to his face, despite not having any blood pumping through his body. "Wh-What?! Of course not, I would only prompt such an idea if I was certain you felt the same." "Hey I was only teasing, but you do love me too right?" "Oui, je t'aime [Name]."

--

part 2

#hetalia #America Hetalia #france hetalia #APH America #APH France #reader #x reader #reader insert #x reader insert #hetalia x reader #reposted from deviantart

[readbookywooks]

13 The cold collar chafes my neck and makes the shivering even harder to control. At least I am no longer in the claustrophobic tube, while the machines click and whir around me, listening to a disembodied voice telling me to hold still while I try to convince myself I can still breathe. Even now, when I've been assured there will be no permanent damage, I hunger for air. The medical team's main concerns - damage to my spinal cord, airway, veins, and arteries - have been allayed. Bruising, hoarseness, the sore larynx, this strange little cough - not to be worried about. It will all be fine. The Mockingjay will not lose her voice. Where, I want to ask, is the doctor who determines if I am losing my mind? Only I'm not supposed to talk right now. I can't even thank Boggs when he comes to check on me. To look me over and tell me he's seen a lot worse injuries among the soldiers when they teach choke holds in training. It was Boggs who knocked out Peeta with one blow before any permanent damage could be done. I know Haymitch would have come to my defense if he hadn't been utterly unprepared. To catch both Haymitch and myself off guard is a rare thing. But we have been so consumed with saving Peeta, so tortured by having him in the Capitol's hands, that the elation at having him back blinded us. If I'd had a private reunion with Peeta, he would have killed me. Now that he's deranged. No, not deranged, I remind myself.Hijacked. That's the word I heard pass between Plutarch and Haymitch as I was wheeled past them in the hallway.Hijacked. I don't know what it means. Prim, who appeared moments after the attack and has stayed as close to me as possible ever since, spreads another blanket over me. "I think they'll take the collar off soon, Katniss. You won't be so cold then." My mother, who's been assisting in a complicated surgery, has still not been informed of Peeta's assault. Prim takes one of my hands, which is clutched in a fist, and massages it until it opens and blood begins to flow through my fingers again. She's starting on the second fist when the doctors show up, remove the collar, and give me a shot of something for pain and swelling. I lie, as instructed, with my head still, not aggravating the injuries to my neck. Plutarch, Haymitch, and Beetee have been waiting in the hall for the doctors to give them clearance to the doctors out and tries to order Prim to go as well, but she says, "No. If you force me to leave, I'll go directly to surgery and tell my mother everything that's happened. And I warn you, she doesn't think much of a Gamemaker calling the shots on Katniss's life. Especially when you've taken such poor care of her." Plutarch looks offended, but Haymitch chuckles. "I'd let it go, Plutarch," he says. Prim stays. "So, Katniss, Peeta's condition has come as a shock to all of us," says Plutarch. "We couldn't help but notice his deterioration in the last two interviews. Obviously, he'd been abused, and we put his psychological state down to that. Now we believe something more was going on. That the Capitol has been subjecting him to a rather uncommon technique known as hijacking. Beetee?" "I'm sorry," Beetee says, "but I can't tell you all the specifics of it, Katniss. The Capitol's very secretive about this form of torture, and I believe the results are inconsistent. This we do know. It's a type of fear conditioning. The termhijack comes from an old English word that means 'to capture,' or even better, 'seize.' We believe it was chosen because the technique involves the use of tracker jacker venom, and thejack suggestedhijack . You were stung in your first Hunger Games, so unlike most of us, you have firsthand knowledge of the effects of the venom." Terror. Hallucinations. Nightmarish visions of losing those I love. Because the venom targets the part of the brain that houses fear. "I'm sure you remember how frightening it was. Did you also suffer mental confusion in the aftermath?" asks Beetee. "A sense of being unable to judge what was true and what was false? Most people who have been stung and lived to tell about it report something of the kind." Yes. That encounter with Peeta. Even after I was clearheaded, I wasn't sure if he had saved my life by taking on Cato or if I'd imagined it. "Recall is made more difficult because memories can be changed." Beetee taps his forehead. "Brought to the forefront of your mind, altered, and saved again in the revised form. Now imagine that I ask you to remember something - either with a verbal suggestion or by making you watch a tape of the event - and while that experience is refreshed, I give you a dose of tracker jacker venom. Not enough to induce a three-day blackout. Just enough to infuse the memory with fear and doubt. And that's what your brain puts in long-term storage." I start to feel sick. Prim asks the question that's in my mind. "Is that what they've done to Peeta? Taken his memories of Katniss and distorted them so they're scary?" Beetee nods. "So scary that he'd see her as life-threatening. That he might try to kill her. Yes, that's our current theory." I cover my face with my arms because this isn't happening. It isn't possible. For someone to make Peeta forget he loves me...no one could do that. "But you can reverse it, right?" asks Prim. "Um...very little data on that," says Plutarch. "None, really. If hijacking rehabilitation has been attempted before, we have no access to those records." "Well, you're going to try, aren't you?" Prim persists. "You're not just going to lock him up in some padded room and leave him to suffer?" "Of course, we'll try, Prim," says Beetee. "It's just, we don't know to what degree we'll succeed. If any. My guess is that fearful events are the hardest to root out. They're the ones we naturally remember the best, after all." "And apart from his memories of Katniss, we don't yet know what else has been tampered with," says Plutarch. "We're putting together a team of mental health and military professionals to come up with a counterattack. I, personally, feel optimistic that he'll make a full recovery." "Do you?" asks Prim caustically. "And what doyou think, Haymitch?" I shift my arms slightly so I can see his expression through the crack. He's exhausted and discouraged as he admits, "I think Peeta might get somewhat better. But...I don't think he'll ever be the same." I snap my arms back together, closing the crack, shutting them all out. "At least he's alive," says Plutarch, as if he's losing patience with the lot of us. "Snow executed Peeta's stylist and his prep team on live television tonight. We've no idea what happened to Effie Trinket. Peeta's damaged, but he's here. With us. And that's a definite improvement over his situation twelve hours ago. Let's keep that in mind, all right?" Plutarch's attempt to cheer me up - laced with the news of another four, possibly five, murders - somehow backfires. Portia. Peeta's prep team. Effie. The effort to fight back tears makes my throat throb until I'm gasping again. Eventually, they have no choice but to sedate me. When I wake, I wonder if this will be the only way I sleep now, with drugs shot into my arm. I'm glad I'm not supposed to talk for the next few days, because there's nothing I want to say. Or do. In fact, I'm a model patient, my lethargy taken for restraint, obedience to the doctors' orders. I no longer feel like crying. In fact, I can only manage to hold on to one simple thought: an image of Snow's face accompanied by the whisper in my head.I will kill you. My mother and Prim take turns nursing me, coaxing me to swallow bites of soft food. People come in periodically to give me updates on Peeta's condition. The high levels of tracker jacker venom are working their way out of his body. He's being treated only by strangers, natives of 13 - no one from home or the Capitol has been allowed to see him - to keep any dangerous memories from triggering. A team of specialists works long hours designing a strategy for his recovery. Gale's not supposed to visit me, as he's confined to bed with some kind of shoulder wound. But on the third night, after I've been medicated and the lights turned down low for bedtime, he slips silently into my room. He doesn't speak, just runs his fingers over the bruises on my neck with a touch as light as moth wings, plants a kiss between my eyes, and disappears. The next morning, I'm discharged from the hospital with instructions to move quietly and speak only when necessary. I'm not imprinted with a schedule, so I wander around aimlessly until Prim's excused from her hospital duties to take me to our family's latest compartment. 2212. Identical to the last one, but with no window. Buttercup has now been issued a daily food allowance and a pan of sand that's kept under the bathroom sink. As Prim tucks me into bed, he hops up on my pillow, vying for her attention. She cradles him but stays focused on me. "Katniss, I know this whole thing with Peeta is terrible for you. But remember, Snow worked on him for weeks, and we've only had him for a few days. There's a chance that the old Peeta, the one who loves you, is still inside. Trying to get back to you. Don't give up on him." I look at my little sister and think how she has inherited the best qualities our family has to offer: my mother's healing hands, my father's level head, and my fight. There's something else there as well, something entirely her own. An ability to look into the confusing mess of life and see things for what they are. Is it possible she could be right? That Peeta could return to me? "I have to get back to the hospital," Prim says, placing Buttercup on the bed beside me. "You two keep each other company, okay?" Buttercup springs off the bed and follows her to the door, complaining loudly when he's left behind. We're about as much company for each other as dirt. After maybe thirty seconds, I know I can't stand being confined in the subterranean cell, and leave Buttercup to his own devices. I get lost several times, but eventually I make my way down to Special Defense. Everyone I pass stares at the bruises, and I can't help feeling self-conscious to the point that I tug my collar up to my ears. Gale must have been released from the hospital this morning as well, because I find him in one of the research rooms with Beetee. They're immersed, heads bent over a drawing, taking a measurement. Versions of the picture litter the table and floor. Tacked on the corkboard walls and occupying several computer screens are other designs of some sort. In the rough lines of one, I recognize Gale's twitch-up snare. "What are these?" I ask hoarsely, pulling their attention from the sheet. "Ah, Katniss, you've found us out," says Beetee cheerfully. "What? Is this a secret?" I know Gale's been down here working with Beetee a lot, but I assumed they were messing around with bows and guns. "Not really. But I've felt a little guilty about it. Stealing Gale away from you so much," Beetee admits. Since I've spent most of my time in 13 disoriented, worried, angry, being remade, or hospitalized, I can't say Gale's absences have inconvenienced me. Things haven't been exactly harmonious between us, either. But I let Beetee think he owes me. "I hope you've been putting his time to good use." "Come and see," he says, waving me over to a computer screen. This is what they've been doing. Taking the fundamental ideas behind Gale's traps and adapting them into weapons against humans. Bombs mostly. It's less about the mechanics of the traps than the psychology behind them. Booby-trapping an area that provides something essential to survival. A water or food supply. Frightening prey so that a large number flee into a greater destruction. Endangering off-spring in order to draw in the actual desired target, the parent. Luring the victim into what appears to be a safe haven - where death awaits it. At some point, Gale and Beetee left the wilderness behind and focused on more human impulses. Like compassion. A bomb explodes. Time is allowed for people to rush to the aid of the wounded. Then a second, more powerful bomb kills them as well. "That seems to be crossing some kind of line," I say. "So anything goes?" They both stare at me - Beetee with doubt, Gale with hostility. "I guess there isn't a rule book for what might be unacceptable to do to another human being." "Sure there is. Beetee and I have been following the same rule book President Snow used when he hijacked Peeta," says Gale. Cruel, but to the point. I leave without further comment. I feel if I don't get outside immediately, I'll just go ballistic, but I'm still in Special Defense when I'm waylaid by Haymitch. "Come on," he says. "We need you back up at the hospital." "What for?" I ask. "They're going to try something on Peeta," he answers. "Send in the most innocuous person from Twelve they can come up with. Find someone Peeta might share childhood memories with, but nothing too close to you. They're screening people now." I know this will be a difficult task, since anyone Peeta shares childhood memories with would most likely be from town, and almost none of those people escaped the flames. But when we reach the hospital room that has been turned into a work space for Peeta's recovery team, there she sits chatting with Plutarch. Delly Cartwright. As always, she gives me a smile that suggests I'm her best friend in the world. She gives this smile to everyone. "Katniss!" she calls out. "Hey, Delly," I say. I'd heard she and her younger brother had survived. Her parents, who ran the shoe shop in town, weren't as lucky. She looks older, wearing the drab 13 clothes that flatter no one, with her long yellow hair in a practical braid instead of curls. Delly's a bit thinner than I remember, but she was one of the few kids in District 12 with a couple of pounds to spare. The diet here, the stress, the grief of losing her parents have all, no doubt, contributed. "How are you doing?" I ask. "Oh, it's been a lot of changes all at once." Her eyes fill with tears. "But everyone's really nice here in Thirteen, don't you think?" Delly means it. She genuinely likes people. All people, not just a select few she's spent years making up her mind about. "They've made an effort to make us feel welcome," I say. I think that's a fair statement without going overboard. "Are you the one they've picked to see Peeta?" "I guess so. Poor Peeta. Pooryou . I'll never understand the Capitol," she says. "Better not to, maybe," I tell her. "Delly's known Peeta for a long time," says Plutarch. "Oh, yes!" Delly's face brightens. "We played together from when we were little. I used to tell people he was my brother." "What do you think?" Haymitch asks me. "Anything that might trigger memories of you?" "We were all in the same class. But we never overlapped much," I say. "Katniss was always so amazing, I never dreamed she would notice me," says Delly. "The way she could hunt and go in the Hob and everything. Everyone admired her so." Haymitch and I both have to take a hard look at her face to double-check if she's joking. To hear Delly describe it, I had next to no friends because I intimidated people by being so exceptional. Not true. I had next to no friends because I wasn't friendly. Leave it to Delly to spin me into something wonderful. "Delly always thinks the best of everyone," I explain. "I don't think Peeta could have bad memories associated with her." Then I remember. "Wait. In the Capitol. When I lied about recognizing the Avox girl. Peeta covered for me and said she looked like Delly." "I remember," says Haymitch. "But I don't know. It wasn't true. Delly wasn't actually there. I don't think it can compete with years of childhood memories." "Especially with such a pleasant companion as Delly," says Plutarch. "Let's give it a shot." Plutarch, Haymitch, and I go to the observation room next to where Peeta's confined. It's crowded with ten members of his recovery team armed with pens and clipboards. The one-way glass and audio setup allow us to watch Peeta secretly. He lies on the bed, his arms strapped down. He doesn't fight the restraints, but his hands fidget continuously. His expression seems more lucid than when he tried to strangle me, but it's still not one that belongs to him. When the door quietly opens, his eyes widen in alarm, then become confused. Delly crosses the room tentatively, but as she nears him she naturally breaks into a smile. "Peeta? It's Delly. From home." "Delly?" Some of the clouds seem to clear. "Delly. It's you." "Yes!" she says with obvious relief. "How do you feel?" "Awful. Where are we? What's happened?" asks Peeta. "Here we go," says Haymitch. "I told her to steer clear of any mention of Katniss or the Capitol," says Plutarch. "Just see how much of home she could conjure up." "Well...we're in District Thirteen. We live here now," says Delly. "That's what those people have been saying. But it makes no sense. Why aren't we home?" asks Peeta. Delly bites her lip. "There was...an accident. I miss home badly, too. I was only just thinking about those chalk drawings we used to do on the paving stones. Yours were so wonderful. Remember when you made each one a different animal?" "Yeah. Pigs and cats and things," says Peeta. "You said...about an accident?" I can see the sheen of sweat on Delly's forehead as she tries to work around the question. "It was bad. No one...could stay," she says haltingly. "Hang in there, girl," says Haymitch. "But I know you're going to like it here, Peeta. The people have been really nice to us. There's always food and clean clothes, and school's much more interesting," says Delly. "Why hasn't my family come to see me?" Peeta asks. "They can't." Delly's tearing up again. "A lot of people didn't get out of Twelve. So we'll need to make a new life here. I'm sure they could use a good baker. Do you remember when your father used to let us make dough girls and boys?" "There was a fire," Peeta says suddenly. "Yes," she whispers. "Twelve burned down, didn't it? Because of her," says Peeta angrily. "Because of Katniss!" He begins to pull on the restraints. "Oh, no, Peeta. It wasn't her fault," says Delly. "Did she tell you that?" he hisses at her. "Get her out of there," says Plutarch. The door opens immediately and Delly begins to back toward it slowly. "She didn't have to. I was - " Delly begins. "Because she's lying! She's a liar! You can't believe anything she says! She's some kind of mutt the Capitol created to use against the rest of us!" Peeta shouts. "No, Peeta. She's not a - " Delly tries again. "Don't trust her, Delly," says Peeta in a frantic voice. "I did, and she tried to kill me. She killed my friends. My family. Don't even go near her! She's a mutt!" A hand reaches through the doorway, pulls Delly out, and the door swings shut. But Peeta keeps yelling. "A mutt! She's a stinking mutt!" Not only does he hate me and want to kill me, he no longer believes I'm human. It was less painful being strangled. Around me the recovery team members scribble like crazy, taking down every word. Haymitch and Plutarch grab my arms and propel me out of the room. They lean me up against a wall in the silent hallway. But I know Peeta continues to scream behind the door and the glass. Prim was wrong. Peeta is irretrievable. "I can't stay here anymore," I say numbly. "If you want me to be the Mockingjay, you'll have to send me away." "Where do you want to go?" asks Haymitch. "The Capitol." It's the only place I can think of where I have a job to do. "Can't do it," Plutarch says. "Not until all the districts are secure. Good news is, the fighting's almost over in all of them but Two. It's a tough nut to crack, though." That's right. First the districts. Next the Capitol. And then I hunt down Snow. "Fine," I say. "Send me to Two."

#Mockingjay