#captured reader

[threepandas]

Bad End: Trust

"Meet your new mates, cargo! Get breeding!"

I didn't understand the bellowed noises at the time. It was just incoherent gibberish. Heaped on top of what was likely a concussion, mixed with what ever drugs they had pumped me with. Thrown into a cell, roughly, and hitting the ground hard. I couldn't have caught myself if I had wanted too. My limbs, unresponsive and dragging meat, that I could barely FEEL.

Please, god, I had thought. Don't let me be paralyzed. Not on top of everything else.

They'll kill me.

Behind and around me, the weeping cries of sorrow and fear rang out. Screams of violence, born of desperation. Countless races, bound together, suffering in this hell. Newly enslaved. I didn't... I couldn't understand. Shaking and struggling to remain conscious, laying on the blood stained floor. The world swayed violently. It was all I could do, to barely keep from passing out.

It was so cold. The air, the floor, the deep and clawing despair, sinking like knives into my gut. Those furry... things, had grabbed me while I was alone, before I could react. W-would anyone notice? Could anyone DO anything? I wanted to get away from the door. Curl up in a corner and... and cry. But I could not move. Like a doll, dropped thoughtlessly on the floor, I could not... could not move.

Tears I likely could not afford, threatened to choke me.

I... I was scared.

Then, deeper in the hovel that was my new home, movement. The heavy clink of chains. Shifting, slow and careful, followed by the drag of metal. A warm hand. Fingers, calloused but careful, checking my neck. My pulse, for injury perhaps, I couldn't tell. But... god, i could have sobbed in relief. They... they felt human.

How terrible of me. That I was GLAD not to be alone. T-That it was relief, to have another person here. Someone who might know what's going on. What to do. To.. to stick with. I... I should wish it was just me, right? That they captured no one else? But... oh god. O-Oh God, I can't! I'm scared. Please. P-please...

I'm so scared.

The person checking me hummed low and soft. Their voice crackling like an old radio that's been left sitting on a shelf too long, unused. How.. how long has it been? Since they last had anyone to talk too? They sounded male, but.. but I didn't want to presume. Could just have a low voice. Throat injury. Might be Trans. I didn't care, couldn't care. I was pretty sure? We were all we had now.

They... no, He, found nothing alarming enough not to move me. Shifting into view as he gently slipped his arms under me. Enough to pick me up and carry me away from the door. He was... is... pretty handsome.

Okay, REALLY handsome.

Horrifically enough? I could see WHY they grabbed him. Athletic as hell, TV ready, really smart. If you were going to ignore ever bit of decency and morality to ever exsist? Might as well go for the best, I guess. Don't know why they grabbed ME, but I guess? They need a stand in or something? Or my predecessor is dead.

(God, I hope she's dead. The alternative...)

Pretty quickly became apparent, though, that one of the main problems (of so, SO many)? Was we don't actually speak the same language. Which... I mean... Well, shit. That's, putting it mildly, "less then ideal". Being unable to communicate with the only other person nominally on "My Side"? Kinda bad! But, I AM learning. And I am teaching him english! So there's that.

We have nothing but time, after all. It helps distract from the suffering just outside. The weeping and screams. The sounds that must be begging, in alien dialects. All the mercies they do not find.

(Is it terrible? That I am glad I can not understand what they are saying? Their cries for help? I can't help them. It hurts. Helpless to even save my self. God, I'm sorry. Please... I'm... I'm so sorry...)

Food gets shoved in. Lights flipped on. Lights shut off. The timer odd, but probably standard for somewhere. It's like being told to go to sleep halfway through the afternoon. Yanked awake before full nights are done. I struggle to adapt, even a little, following my fellow prisoner's lead. Or, well, trying too. There's a lot of charades at first.

Then, practicing our languages. Taking what naps and cuddling for warmth we can. Harsh lights be damned. It's cold, we're tired, but we have to keep our strength up. Right? Throughout it all, I try to ignore the weird smells they pump in. Still not used to getting random scents blasted at my head from above, from the air vents in the walls.

Day in, day out, rinse and repeate. The weird gasses smells like people have had sex, to be honest. I think? But don't quote me. They might be trying to get us to "mate", like animals, so they can sell our kids. Induce some nonexistent human heat cycle or something. I've kinda started to worry, not gonna lie, about what they'll do... you know, once they finally get frustrated. Figure out, we don't work like that.

Or... more relevantly, might not even be? Compatible?

Cause Azenari is DEFINITELY not a human. They fucked uuuup. Cause if he is? There is some probably serious divergent evolution going on. He did NOT get nabbed from Earth. HE got nabbed from his SHIP(as in, yeah, a fuckin Space Ship). Because HIS people are space faring! The man has pointy ears for fucks sake! Some seriously fangy canines. And while, yeah, seriously kinda cool? No idea if our species are related, or... you know...

So yeah, The Fur Covered Slaver Bastards are apparently Humanoid face blind, on TOP of being just generally terrible. Or dumb! Might be dumb, honestly. Wouldn't put it past them. Banality of evil and all that. But recently? There was a... tension. Something was coming. The Bastards seemed twitchy.

"Not long now, beloved. We're two stops from the extraction ambush." Azenari murmured, from where he was tucked loosely around me as I watch the latest patrol pass, one arm cradling me tight. Even as, with the other hand, he sleepily stroked my back. "You'll look lovely in proper robes. You deserve finery, my love."

I couldn't understand most of the sentence. Normally he simplified for me, since I was still learning. He seemed... pleased? Smug? The more tense and twitchy the Bastards got, the more darkly amused he seemed to become. As though he knew exactly why. As though he was laughing inside.

"My magnificent darling, you'll belong to me in everyway that matters. I'll take safer jobs. No more slave ring stings. I promise."

Oh. I think I got it. Azenari though of me as family! Yeah, that tracked. Trauma bonding and all. I did too. Couldn't help but smile, hugging him back, much to his clear delight. Yeah. We were in this together.

I'm glad I had someone I could trust. The universe was big and I would be pretty much alone without him. All but thrown at his feet and told I was his, Azenari had every chance to hurt me. But he didn't. He was a good man. Solid and stable when everything when frightening, warm and there when I needed to hide.

Really, it was only a matter of time before we would be chatting like old friends!

"You are NEVER going to escape me, beloved."

"I Love You."

[karoochui]

I am admittedly not the most massive fan of human DCA cuz i think some characters aren't human for good reason BUT. i had ideas. So

[allimili]

I can’t get away from this blue jester even if I tried. 😭

( 🐁 ) mouse anon

I know you mean og shmilk but shmilk is shmilk

[inafieldofstarflowers]

ik we talk about how Neil’s an unreliable narrator in terms of leaving out details about his life & that’s true BUT it’s important to me that we acknowledge that he’s also deeply unreliable in the more traditional sense when it comes to his understanding of the people around him—it’s easy to overlook because the person Neil thinks about the most and in the most depth is Andrew, and he does understand Andrew incredibly well, so it’s easy to just trust he knows what he’s talking about when it comes to other people when that’s not necessarily true. Especially when it comes to Kevin and Aaron, who Neil has some pretty direct ideas about, but whose images in his mind are impacted respectively by Neil’s understanding of himself and his understanding of Andrew. To really understand Kevin you have to lose the idea that he only cares about Exy & is a coward for not standing up to the people who he fears will kill him for valid reasons. To understand Aaron, you have to acknowledge that Andrew’s view of events & their relationship isn’t objectively the “right” way to view it because that’s not how that works, and that, as much as Aaron didn’t understand Andrew or his motivations, Andrew didn’t underrate Aaron or his.

[enhard]

lee heeseung — “bullseye”

pairing: loser roommate!l.hs x fem!reader

cw: smut, loser hee i can’t stress this enough, lowk a pervert and dirty minded, very very down bad but jealous af, lots of masturbating, usage of toys, stealing your underwear, mentions of nudes, he’s a virgin, cute breeding kink for my boy (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

hee is the biggest loser in enhypen. try to change my mind.

@hoseokteardrop you gave me a brain itch (。ˇ ⊖ˇ）♡

not proofread ! (MDNI)

you always knew your college roommate was a loser, he played games all day and night in his dorm, never attended parties or outings. you liked him as a friend though. he’s sweet.

if only you had known that he would think about you all the time, whenever you came back home from a college party with a dress shorter than usual, he couldn’t help but quickly excuse himself to the bathroom just to fist his cock thinking about you.

he can’t stand it. he can’t accept seeing you in clothes so revealing going to parties where other men are there. why would you need attention from other men from campus? isn’t he enough?

he likes you. a bit too much. he’s horrible at flirting though. he has no experience in relationships or intimacy it’s pathetic.

“fuck, i’m cumming” is all that echoes through his room late at night, hoping to not wake you up.

he’s a virgin, hoping that you would be his first, but at the same time he’s terrified that he will do something wrong and you’ll hate him forever.

he would offer to do the laundry, just to look at your underwear, imagining you in it. how the panty straps would hug your hips with your skin glowing so bright.

he would steal some panties from you just to fuck them when he was feeling needy. you haven’t noticed they were missing to this day.

when you weren’t home, he would quickly go to his desk, pressing away at the pc to find his favourite videos. he would close his eyes imagining that those sweet sounds were all yours.

he wishes he would get at least one nude pic from you, but he never got it, obviously. that was one of the things he dreamed of at night, simultaneously something that kept him up at night. he needed your body. he needed you.

he wanted to breed you. he wanted to fuck his cum into you. he wanted to paint your pussy with it instead of a tissue or his abdomen. he wanted to fill you up so good, every time you talked he was fantasising about filling up your pretty mouth with his cum. he couldn’t help it.

you wondered why so many packages came through the door and why he was so strict about you not touching them. you respected his wishes, but now you wished you had opened them.

he would buy so many toys and gadgets for him to try out, he could open up an entire account for posting not-so-innocent videos of him relieving himself with them.

from different pillows, to rubber toys, fleshlights anything you could think of. he had it.

he knew he was dirty but not himself, oh he was clean compared to other college guys. his room was a mess though. but he never ever let you see all of those toys, he kept them nice and locked away.

one day you were at the dorm, feeling it in your room. you just got that urge. you felt needy.

you didn’t have a boyfriend or friends with benefits to call, so you decided to do it solo.

you had some hot but horrible boyfriends in the past, none of which you wanted to think about right now.. so who would be better than your loser gamer roommate?

“i know he’s crazy, but he’s also crazy hot.” you thought. he might be a nerd but he’s also so attractive it’s perfect.

you travel your hand down, rubbing yourself through your panties. it doesn’t take long before you stop to take your panties off and insert your fingers inside. you close your eyes, imagining that your roommate is fucking you right now.

you start moaning out his name, those noises sneaking through the halls. you thought he wasn’t home, but as he was walking across the hall, he could hear your moans.

as he stops by your door, luckily for him it was ajar, he sees you shoving your fingers inside.

he thought he was dreaming, getting so excited over the sight. someone pinch him.

he licked his lips seeing a slight hint of your pussy he wanted to fuck. he wanted to claim it like it was his.

at one point, you stop fingering yourself to take your top off, exposing your tits with a bounce.

he almost moaned on the spot seeing those tits. oh how he wishes he could touch them.

he promised to himself that he’ll suck on them so good it’ll leave you weeping.

he promised that he would fuck you so good it would leave you craving for more and more.

he wanted you to ride him, your tits bouncing up and down with each move. his favourite position.

once you start fingering yourself again and moaning out his name, he leaks precum through his pants, getting a painfully hard dick, oh how he wished for this.

he takes out his cock right out his pants, stroking it and abusing his swollen tip while staring at you.

it felt good. way better than it normally felt. he was doing good at keeping quiet until you let out the hottest moan he’s ever heard, that tipped him off the edge. his moan followed yours and you instantly stopped what you were doing to stare at the door.

with a confused look on your face, but way too horny to scold him, you sighed.

“hee..? come in. please.” you breathe out.

you can see him walking in, with his cock still out. you slightly smile, seeing at how desperate he was for you.

“come here, let me give you what you want.” you say, seeing a cute stupid smile plastered on his face.

he comes up to you just to pull you into a kiss, and to pin you under him. but he clearly didn’t know where to rest his arms so you softly laugh at him. “is this your first time?” you say smiling.

he nods, visibly embarrassed by it. you find him adorable, and the thought that he’s a virgin makes you even more excited. he doesn’t know what he’s doing but you’re there to teach him.

“that’s okay, don’t be embarrassed. i’ll guide you.”

he smiles. he knows he just hit bullseye.

[mahirublue]

I offer a sketchbook spread of Steb✨🧜🏼‍♂️

[starrydali]

hii i got a request for a luke castellan fic🤭

so i thought of it the other day.. what if its during a capture the flag game but reader and luke get carried away with yk.. making out or smth and they get caught !

do what you want with it, i just thought it could be cute😊

Friends With Benefits - Luke Castellan

∘°∘♡∘° Stoppp I love this so much♡

✧˖*°࿐*✧.┊You and Luke have always been close friends, but lately, things have been a little… complicated. You're not quite dating, but you're not just friends either. Stolen kisses here and there, moments where the line between friendship and something more starts to blur. ✧. ┊

The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. You were supposed to be patrolling—Luke was supposed to be patrolling—but instead, you were backed against the rough bark of a tree, his lips brushing against yours in a way that sent your thoughts spiraling into chaos.

“Luke,” you mumbled between kisses, though you made no effort to stop him. “We’re going to get caught.”

He pulled back slightly, his face so close that his breath warmed your skin. His smirk was maddeningly cocky, the kind that made you simultaneously want to shove him and kiss him again. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and full of amusement. “You worry too much.”

“You don’t worry enough,” you shot back, your hands resting awkwardly on his chest, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

Luke just chuckled, leaning in again, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth before moving to trail down your jaw. “It’s adorable how you think anyone’s paying attention to us right now.”

You were about to retort when—

“Luke Castellan.”

The sharp voice cut through the quiet of the woods like a blade. Your head snapped toward the source of the sound, and your stomach dropped. Annabeth.

She stood a few feet away, arms crossed and a look of utter disbelief etched on her face. For once, her calculating gaze wasn’t directed at some strategic move in Capture the Flag—it was pinned squarely on the two of you.

“Oh gods,” you muttered under your breath, stepping away from Luke so fast you nearly tripped over a root.

Luke, on the other hand, didn’t seem the least bit fazed. He leaned casually against the tree, his arms crossed over his chest, and gave Annabeth his most infuriating grin. “Hey, Annabeth,” he said, as if she’d just caught him skipping chores and not...well, this.

“‘Hey, Annabeth?’” she repeated, her voice rising slightly. Her eyes flicked between you and Luke, her expression a mix of shock, confusion, and something that looked suspiciously like secondhand embarrassment. “What the hell was that?”

You opened your mouth to explain—or maybe apologize—but no sound came out. Your face was burning so hot you were sure it could rival Apollo’s chariot.

“We were just...uh...” Luke began, his grin widening as he glanced at you.

“Don’t,” Annabeth interrupted, holding up a hand. “Don’t even try to explain.”

Luke shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, if you insist.”

“Luke!” you hissed, swatting his arm.

“What?” he said, feigning innocence. “I’m not lying. She told me not to explain.”

Annabeth groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I cannot believe this. You two are supposed to be best friends.”

“We are,” Luke said, the casual tone in his voice almost convincing.

“Best friends don’t...” Annabeth gestured vaguely between the two of you, clearly at a loss for words.

You wanted to sink into the ground and disappear forever. “This isn’t—it’s not—”

“Not what it looked like?” Annabeth supplied, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded furiously, though you weren’t entirely sure what you were agreeing to.

Luke, ever the opportunist, slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “Come on, Annabeth,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “Can’t two best friends share a kiss now and then without it being a big deal?”

“No!” Annabeth snapped, her face incredulous. “No, they can’t!”

“Well,” Luke said, his smirk practically glowing in the dark, “guess we missed the memo.”

Annabeth threw her hands up in frustration. “You’re both unbelievable.” She turned on her heel and stalked back toward the creek, muttering something about idiocy and never being able to unsee things.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you turned to Luke, your jaw dropping. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” he said, his expression far too pleased with himself. “That went better than I expected.”

“Better?” you repeated, your voice a mix of disbelief and mortification. “She’s never going to let us live this down.”

“Probably not,” Luke agreed, his grin softening into something almost fond as he looked at you. “But hey, at least now you know what you're dealing with.”

“And what exactly am dealing with?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

Luke’s gaze flicked briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “A best friend who doesn’t play by the rules.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are,” he teased, leaning in just enough that your noses brushed.

You shoved him lightly, though the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to hide. “Come on,” you said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him in the direction of the creek. “Let’s actually do our job before we get caught again.”

“Whatever you say, best friend,” he said, his laughter echoing through the trees as he followed you.

✧. ┊ Send requests! :)

[abbysgirl]

[gay-panic-at-the-disco]

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN THEY'RE REPLACING THE SWORDS IN ORV WITH GUNS IN THE LIVE ACTION

"It was a great story, wasn't it, Yoo Jonghyuk? Let's meet again soon."

💥💥💥🔫

[clairewritesfanfics]

if you actually managed to break him out of the gda imagine the kind of shit captured mark would do for you

I know this isn't a request, but uh, I felt extra inspired today.

I'm going with the angsty route here.

I imagine Y/N is truly regretful of getting Nolan killed and Mark captured so they pretend to be compliant with the GDA (who have no reason to believe that Reader would betray them) and start preparing for Mark's freedom in advance. They have a space ship or some inter-dimensional ready along with dehydrated food and clothes and video games and comic books.

"What're you doing? Urk!" Mark was forced to chew on another energy bar that you shoved into his mouth. You've been extra annoying the past several months.

You approached the control panel that puppeteered his shackles. "The EMP will reset all systems and it will take five minutes for the power to return, but with your speed, you can make your way to the escape pod. You remember the directions I gave you, don't you?"

"I do, unfortunately, but it's kinda hard to forget something when someone repeats it every day. Every. Hour." Mark scoffed. "But what makes you think I'll believe you? How can I be sure that this isn't some test?"

"You don't have to, and it's not a test." Your fingers glided swiftly over the keyboard. "I've done my part, I'm going to give you the keys to your future. Your choice is all that's left."

"Ugh, God, enough with the pompous scholarly talk. It was cute when we were dating and...okay, it's still hot when you talk like that but just tell me what you're planning."

You smiled. "I already told you. Whether you believe me or not, is all up to you." You hit a button and the entire chamber was submerged in darkness.

The emergency lights turned on.

And Mark was free.

"Holy crap. You weren't lying." He floated in the air for a few seconds, stretching his arms and legs, then he had your neck in his hand. "Give me one good reason."

Whatever you were feeling, your face did not give it away. "Four minutes."

He glared at you, fingers twitching to do it, to snap your neck and be done with this.

But he couldn't. So he let go and flew into the air. "Bye."

You watched him fly away, drilling through the walls of his prison. Behind you, the large metallic doors were being pried open by Stedman's team.

"Goodbye, Mark Grayson."

[pompompurin1028]

𓍯𓂃Hanahaki Disease Au! Dazai x reader • a drabble

This is an attempt at a portrayal of the original hanahaki disease au (the disease as a result of repressed feelings rather than unrequited feelings). This is kinda different from my usual fics and honestly I'm just experimenting so idk I'm out of practice orz

Dazai always thought your smiles reminded him of flowers. If nurtured in the right environment, given enough light, provided with the right amount of love and care it deserves, it blossomed like a sunflower in the light of the Sun. Dazai found that the agency provided the proper soil to nurture your smile. Your smile was so bright it was almost betwitching, and if Dazai would dare admit it, capturing even his heart that he had long thought barren of such feelings.

Yet, the more he spoke with you, the more he got to know you, the more he felt your light shining upon him, the more he felt like something, something he shouldn't be feeling, developing in the depths of his heart. At times, it was like a soothing balm, smoothing over the cracks and roughness of his heart. But more often than not, it was a dreadful feeling.

Lately, every time he neared you, every time he wanted to speak to you, it was as if flowers were growing inside of his heart, wishing to escape, to sprout, wishing to blossom fully. The feelings that had taken root in his heart seemed to sprout, filling his heart, engulfing his lungs, shooting up his throat as if they wanted to force themselves out of him.

“I… I-” He found himself stumbling over his words in conversation that once came normal to him. What had once been conversations about yourselves, your thoughts were cut short as he turned the conversation around. Though he dreaded seeing your rejected expression as he does so, for seemingly putting up a wall between you two, he knew he could not let the conversation continue. For every time he wishes to speak, the terrible sensation enters his throat again. Something wanted to escape. He could already feel it sitting on his tongue ready to break free… But as always Dazai swallows it down. He could not reveal what he had inside his heart.

In truth, while he described the feeling in his heart as flowers. He could not be sure what they were. Perhaps they were something far darker, something monstrous that grew inside of him. Dark and twisted feelings that are not suring for someone like you. He feared it would scare you away, the torrent of emotions swirling inside of him. But more importantly, he felt that you should not be at the receiving end of them, whatever form and shape they are. He could not guarantee what they were, even he himself is unsure of it. He could not understand them. He even wondered if such beauty like flowers could even cultivate inside of him一out of the blood that stained his body, out of the hollowness that pervades his existence. Is there really anything in him that could create anything beautiful enough that is deserving of you? So, despite his desire for closeness, for intimacy, to become even more deeply acquainted with you, he slowly pushed you away, alongside the feelings he was determined to keep locked in his heart.

But everyone has a breaking point. Even someone like Dazai himself cannot escape it. While determined to keep you at a distance, he was selfish, he could not keep his word. And when he felt the familiar feeling rising in his throat once again, instead of being able to swallow them down, this time they were far too persistent.

A coughing fit seized him immediately as he tried to force them down. He could hardly breathe, the room turned, it was nauseating, it was unlike anything he felt before. Clasping his hand to his mouth, he ignored your look of concern and desire to get him to sit down. He ran and stumbled his way to the agency's bathroom, lurching over the sink… blood stained flower petals soiled the white marble.

He wheezed, taking in deep, laboured breaths as the coughing fit ended, trying to take in air into his lungs. But it almost felt as if no matter how much he took in, it wasn't quite enough. He plopped down onto the ground, trying to steady his breath. It was like he was underwater again, with water in his lungs… But rather than let it take him, this time he was desperately grasping for air, he did not want to let it overtake him, he was not ready, not right now.

Soon, he could breathe again. The tightness in his throat has gotten lighter, his head felt clearer. The constricting feeling he had felt in his throat, in his heart has ceased temporarily. He breathed a sigh of relief.

But he knew well this relief was only temporary, it would return once again, but for some reason, he did not wish to give the feelings up nonetheless.

He sighs and grips the marble sink tightly, leveraging it to push himself back onto his feet. Looking down at the sink, he could see the bloody flower petals staining the white marble with bits of red. Yet, the flower petals themselves in contrast were pure white.

While he feared the vulnerability of intimacy, of being understood, of being known and seen.. Taking a deep breath, he paused, hesitating briefly before returning to his usual self. “You know what? I've changed my mind, I'd like to get to know you better.”

[lunarwednesday]

Final Day - Wanan and the Oldest Dream

[haruslia]

HAIII can I please order some cookies and cream cat shaped cupcakes along with some sweetened black coffee? Thank youu !🥹🥹

𝜗𝜚 ─ ORDER ⊹ 001 𓂃 cookies n cream cat shaped cupcake

⊹ famous picks ₊ ◡◡ sweetened black coffee

𝜗𝜚 ────STUBBORNNESS = FEVER warnings ⊹ hurt with comfort, haruka having a hard time opening up and refusing to let [name] take care of him, light angst(?), established relationship, guilty! [name], gender neutral. both second and third point of view. this is so rushed omg, i’m sorry loves 🥹 i was half asleep while writing this + i wasn’t really having the motivation but I don’t wanna keep you guys waiting! and I got lost while writing this so I just decided to add a little bit of a comedy 🥹

𝜗𝜚 ──── DING, DING, A MESSAGE! hello, thank you for ordering! hope you enjoyed your time and the food, if you need anything just ring the bell! don’t forget to leave a tip! it will be very appreciated! much love, come back soon! and biggest thanks to our miss. misumine for editing the banner!

the apartment was eerily quiet, well it was expected since HARUKA lives alone but it looks like that no one has been living on it. crack walls, windows, mold growing on the walls, the sink was a bit dirty and there’s not much of a furnitures.

[name] have gotten a message from akihiko saying that their boyfriend— HARUKA, got a cold and a sinking feeling was on [name]’s stomach as if their heart drop at the fact that THEY’RE the reason why he’s at such a vulnerable state.

it was yesterday when you and HARUKA went on a stroll through Makochi when it started raining heavily, having nothing to cover yourself the two of you decided to go to a shop and took cover there.

both of you were soaked in the rain but HARUKA was drenched like a wet cat since he covered you with his jacket even though you resisted the offer but he was being stubborn as always and just shoved you with his jacket. leaving him shivering and drenched in the cold weather.

[name] scolded him for being reckless that he’s gonna get a cold and insisted that he wore the jacket instead since he clearly needs it more but HARUKA was just so stubborn, he kept resisting about the fact of wearing the jacket while [name] was soaked as if he wasn’t too at all.

And here they are, [name] standing outside of his apartment with bags in hand, they made him some porridge as well as bringing some tissues and cough drops just in case.

you slid the broken door open only to be met with darkness, it was empty barely felt alive as you stepped in. noticing that it lacked the proper furniture, no tv, no table, no refrigerator, nothing. the pit in your stomach only got worse as you made your way to his room and you can see HARUKA’s figure laying on a futon, a duvet enveloping him.

you started walking towards him, footsteps light and cautious not wanting to startle him as you settled down everything. [name] noticed that there were also two white bags sitting on the corner and some medicines, a smile forming on their face at the fact that his friends cared for him.

HARUKA seemingly sensing a presence, immediately woke up to see who it is if one of his friends broke into his house. assuming that it would be either akihiko and hayato.

“oi, what are you guys doing back here again? I swear to god if you guys bought something I will-”

he didn’t finish his sentence when your figure came to his view, that familiar face laced with worries and those same [e. color] staring right through his mismatched ones made his breath hitch in his throat.

he didn’t expect you to visit, he thought that you wouldn’t face him after he had pushed you away yesterday yet here you are. Because of his stunned state he didn’t even register your hand coming in contact with his feverish skin but when it did he hissed on the feeling.

“your temperature is still a bit high.”

you stated in a matter-of-fact tone as you pulled your hand away from his forehead, there was a snot on his nose yet he still managed to look cute. you took out the tissues from the bag before gently wiping off the snot in which received a whine from your lover.

“hey, what are you doing here-”

he questioned, he really doesn’t get why you’re here but the fact you’re taking care of him is embarrassing as he tried to push you off him, trying to swat your hand away from his nose.

“stop that—m’not a child.”

he exclaimed as he pushed you off, laying back into his futon as you looked at him with a concerned yet annoyed expression, there he goes again! pushing you away when all you wanted to do is take care of him.

“haru, love. your temperature is still high and you still have a bad fever.”

you tried to reason with him but all you received was a string of “m’fine” “I can take care of myself.” “it’s no big deal” which annoys you to the extent but you tried to keep yourself calm and composed, you grabbed his shoulder just enough to make him look at you earning a groan from the dual toned man.

“Haruka, let me take care of you, I’m the reason why you’re having a fever anyway.”

HARUKA can only look at you with disbelief before he sees you taking out some porridge, the thought of you being guilty about the fact that he got a cold because he had lent you his jacket other than wearing it made his heart sink, a knot forming in his stomach.

he grabbed your hand in his shaking (n blushing) ones before looking away, cheeks flushed this time it isn’t the fever but the fact that he still gets embarrassed on comforting people, he muttered something underneath his breath barely inaudible.

“. .You’re not the reason why I’m sick, you know. . it’s better that I’m the one who got sick and not you because you cry whenever you’re sick.”

the last sentence made a vein pop in your neck before you smacked his head, earning a loud groan from him as he faces you with an angry expression

“what was that for!?”

he yelled as he rubbed the spot where you had smacked him as you crossed your arms, huffing underneath your breath. “I don’t cry whenever I’m sick.” “you did when I came to visit!” “it was because my body hurts, okay!?” “whatever, you still cried”

The two of you argued before you let out a giggle underneath your breath, laughing softly while HARUKA looked at you with adoration but then you stopped for a minute to look at him with a smile on your face before you took out a porridge and HARUKA’s face contorted into one with disgust at the sight of the small bits of carrots and other vegetables.

“I am not eating that!”

He yelled as he backed away from you, from the porridge in your hand to be precise looking at it like its his biggest enemy but you can only sigh.

“you need to eat it if you wanna feel better.” “oh hell no! I can smell at least thirteen carrots!” “you have a runny nose and you possibly can’t smell anything, genius.” “shut up!”

[name] grabbed a spoon from the bag and took a scoop of the porridge, blowing on it before bringing it on HARUKA’s mouth who refused to eat it. “[name], put that thing away!” you just smiled at him mischievously before bringing it closer to his mouth.

“say ahh~”

© HARUSLIA ⊹ our orders aren’t made to be plagiarized, copied, stolen, translated, reposted and displayed in another café.

[beastsovrevelation]

Captured Angel

Michael Langdon x F!Angel!Reader

Contains: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, elements of coercion, implied loss of virginity, blasphemy, hierophilia

“Good, you’re awake.”

A chill ran down your spine. You had awakened in an unfamiliar room. Your head ached, your wings hung limp, and your limbs were heavy. The air was soaked to the last thread in malice. It made you nauseous. Gritting your teeth, you dragged yourself up, your mind aflame with a single thought – you had to get out. You looked around, but before you could spot a way of escape, you felt a presence. Dark... Darker than the blackest night. Your heart froze in your chest, a taste of iron suddenly coating your tongue. Though you had not seen his face, you could recognize him anywhere. Seven heads. Ten horns. His honeyed voice left a cold, oily trace on your very soul as he spoke. You drew a deep breath, and spun around, to meet a pair of piercing blue eyes.

His lips crooked into a smirk. Holding your gaze, he moved towards you. You drew back.   

“Get away from me, filthy Beast...” you snarled.

Deep down, you loathed yourself for the instinctive reaction. You were a soldier. You had a duty to stand your ground, and instead, you cowered. He promptly crossed the gap between you two.

“Ah-ah!” he scolded, clasping your chin “That’s not very nice, now, is it?..”

You grimaced. Michael Langdon. How ironic, for Satan’s son to bear your General’s name. The one who cast him out... You hoped it hurt the Evil One greatly. Michael caressed your cheek. You winced, and pushed his hand away. Sneering, he grabbed you by the throat.  

“Why am I here?” you hissed through gritted teeth.

He glanced down at your heaving chest.

“You’re my captive” he purred “Isn’t it obvious?”

You swallowed. Struggling would only worsen your chances, you knew as much. His gaze darkened with hunger as he watched you – like a wolf, salivating at a wounded deer. Your guts had coiled into a tight knot, a sickly sweet taste coating your mouth.

“Why didn’t your bootlickers kill me?” you asked, not quite certain if you wished to know the answer.

A chuckle escaped his lips. The Antichrist’s lecherous expression made your blood boil. How dare the abomination touch an angel of the Lord, you thought. A strange sensation was budding between your legs, but you pointedly ignored it, just as you ignored the feeling of unease clawing at the back of your skull.   

“That would’ve been a waste...” Michael tilted his head “They thought a gift would please me. They weren’t wrong...”

You snarled, attempting to pull away.

“Get your putrid hands off me!”

He tightened his grip on your neck.

“Hush” he coaxed in a mockingly gentle voice “I’m not going to hurt you, angel.”

“Vile creature...” you spat.

He pulled you closer. You bared your teeth, as your face almost crashed into his. Though you did not need air, the pressure on your throat was beginning to make you dizzy. Every nerve in your body screamed to fight - your muscles   had tensed, prepared for combat. You might have broken away. Escaped this unholy place. You should have at least tried... But, perhaps because of the mist gathering over your mind, your legs trembled underneath you. You found yourself staring at his mouth. His breath brushed against your skin, warm and silken. Your pulse leapt into a frenzy.

Michael snuck his other hand under your clothes. The captors had stripped you of your armour, and taken away your sword, leaving only your linen tunic to cover you. His fingertips caressed your thigh, slowly creeping upwards. You held your breath as you felt him part the soft folds of your skin.

You had never been fondled like this before. Carnal pleasure was forbidden for your kind. You should be disgusted, you understood as much. Still, the electric-like impulse roused by his touch paralyzed you, preventing you from breaking his arm.

He stroked your entrance. You stifled a gasp, your intimate muscles tightened in anticipation. Your hole was beginning to well with slick. Taking your lack of resistance for a welcome, he slipped two fingers inside you. The feeling of his skin against your sensitive membrane made your head spin, and you barely held back from bucking your hips into his hand.

He let go of your neck, only to wrap his arm around your waist. Keeping you steady, he spread his fingers wider, straining you until it hurt. You shuddered. He massaged the velvety walls of your flesh, driving you to the edge of madness. Aware of how much satisfaction hearing your cries would give him, you clenched your jaw. His skin grazed against a certain knot of nerves, and you nearly sunk to the ground as your legs buckled from the bolt of stimulation. Still, somehow, you did not make a sound.

It only made Michael more determined. He fixated on your sweet spot, leaving you to desperately clutch the lapels of his jacket. His mouth lingered but a thread away from yours - you felt his heartbeat echo against your rib cage. He narrowed his eyes, and pressed his thumb to your clit. Overwhelmed, you drew a sharp breath.

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you?..” he teased “What is it, my dear? What do you want, hm?”

He pushed a third finger into your dripping slit. You whined in pleasure muddled with despair.

“Speak up, angel” he demanded.

Virtue be damned. Something tameless had infected you. Caught in the furor of sin, you eagerly cast your innocence aflame.

“I...” you stammered “I want... I need you to ravish me...”

Michael threw you onto the bed, and climbed on top of you. Laying flat on your back, your wings sprawled open, you looked up at him, your eyes sweetly half-lidded. His knee shoved between your thighs, he ripped the front of your tunic open. You sighed as cold air brushed against your nipples. He placed his hands on your breasts, savouring the softness of your bare skin. His eyes aflame with lust, he took a moment to admire your flushed, helpless body. Biting your bottom lip, you pushed your chest into his touch. He grabbed you by the throat again.

“You’re mine” he snarled “Mine alone...”

Against your better judgement, you nodded. Your gaze wandered down to his crotch, causing your mouth to immediately water. Michael’s lips crooked into a sleazy smirk. He unbuckled his pants, and slipped his underwear down. Your eyes widened as his hard cock sprung free. Large, but not obscenely so. You pulled the skirt of your tunic up, leaving your aching cunt at his mercy.

He pinned you down under his full weight. You wrapped your arms around him, savouring the feel of luxurious fabric under your fingers. Like an animal in heat, you craved to feel him inside. His eyes locked with yours, Michael clasped your leg, and positioned himself more comfortably. You blindly caught hold of his member, helping guide it into your hole.

Your heart skipped a beat – you let out a moan as your membranes clamped around him. Hardly giving you a moment to adjust, he began to move. The sudden strain roused a twinge, but it soon was obscured by shattering pleasure. No longer holding back your mewls and whimpers, you sank your nails into his back. Should the expensive suit get ruined, it will be his fault.

Michael groaned, his teeth bared in primal satisfaction. Your response only encouraged him, and he quickly picked up the pace. Each thrust sent a shattering wave of pleasure through your fevered nerves. You wrapped your legs around his waist, welcoming them. He traced the tip of his tongue over your neck. You hissed as his long hair tickled you, overwhelming your senses even more. He purred, and nipped at your jaw.

“Kiss me” you demanded.

He obeyed, leaning down to press his mouth against yours. You parted your lips for him, and allowed your tongues to battle for dominance.

“Say my name” he ordered, upon pulling away.

“I can’t...” you gasped in horror.

“Your general isn’t here...” he growled “It’s just you and me...” he pressed his face to your temple “Say my name, sweetheart. Show the Beast how much you’re enjoying your downfall.”

He pulled his cock almost all the was out, then slammed it back in, roughly grazing your sweet spot. Your cried out, and sank your fingers into his hair. You didn’t want to think about her. You loathed to imagine her disappointment in you. But his presence eclipsed her face. Drowned it in the storm of ecstasy ravaging you.

“Michael!”

“Good girl” he praised with a grin.

Shock after shock of ecstasy tore through your body, setting every cell of it aflame. Your forehead was laced in sweat. Your muscles quivered from the tension. You were close. Very close. Turned feral by the pleasure, he grabbed you by the wrists, thrusting into you with merciless force.

“Michael...” you moaned.

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You arched your back, trembling and convulsing as a scream escaped your throat. Michael threw his head back with a snarl. You had grown painfully tight around him, prompting him to reach his own release. You felt him spill inside you – it was the strangest, most pleasant sensation  you had ever experienced.

You collapsed into the pillows, limp and gasping for breath. He slumped down on top of you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to soak in the glowing haze of bliss. But, just when he had crept off of you, and was about to pull you into his arms, you leapt up. Using his surprise for your advantage, you climbed onto him – this time, you were the one to pin him down. You caught his gaze, and drew a dagger from underneath your ruined tunic. Afraid to molest their master’s gift, the devil worshippers had missed it.

“You will find the men who captured me, crucify them, and bleed them like pigs” you growled, pressing the blade against his throat “Do you understand me, Antichrist?”

A drop of blood sept from under the metal, glowing against his milky skin in a warning.

“Yes” he murmured, as his eyes blazed with adoration.

[o4i0n]

caleb with filipino reader yippiee ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

your legs are draped over caleb’s when you decide that you’re far too comfortable to make any sort of move that would ruin your position, even if it looks a little weird to the average onlooker. 

“psst.” you bend your leg slightly so you could poke him with your toe. unfortunately, your foot ends up at his side, and he lets out a quiet, disgruntled huff at the sensation. “hey.” 

caleb all but sighs deeply, a show of his poorly disguised faux-annoyance. “what. what could you possibly want, pips? you’re compromising my streak here.”

he turns his phone to you, gesturing to his current attempts at beating his high score on whatever block puzzle game he’s been playing. all you do is roll your eyes at his childishness. 

you don’t even raise your head from your phone, too engrossed in one of the ten-minute ads that feature parts of a chinese drama—something about an emperor disguised as a poor man who married a woman who was just disowned by her parents. absentmindedly, you pucker your lips and move your mouth in the general direction of the object you’re asking caleb to grab. “can you get me that?” 

there’s a noticeable dip in the couch, and you hold your hand out, assuming that you would soon feel the weight of the charger on your palm. however, you were sorely mistaken as caleb leans forward to sneak a quick kiss, pecking your lips with an exaggerated ‘mwah!’ before pulling away. 

that catches you by surprise. finally tearing your gaze away from your phone, you blink at him in confusion as to why he kissed you. 

“what was that for?” 

for a split second, caleb’s adorably proud expression falters. you really don’t mean to rain on his parade; he looks so proud of himself, too, with his signature boyish grin and sparkling puppy-dog eyes. 

“were you not asking for a kiss?” 

you shake your head. “no? i was asking you to get my charger.” you repeat the gesture, puckering your lips in an attempt to convey what you meant. 

it was caleb’s turn to blink at you, lips pursing in a line in mock annoyance as he reaches for the charger,  the precarious nature of your comfortable position long gone as he moves. “how was i supposed to understand that?” 

“i was literally pointing at it.” 

the complete deadpan delivery of your words causes caleb’s pout to deepen. with a sigh, he drops your beloved charger in your hand, purposefully slumping back on the couch cushions with added force to make some kind of a point.

“there’s a kiss tax, by the way. for my troubles.”

you can hear the smirk in his voice and he thinks he’s so slick, but all you do is slide your legs off the couch and unceremoniously retreat back to your shared room, leaving him all alone.

“wha—hey!”

i haven't written in so long okay plz excuse me if there are any grammatical or spelling errors. btw kuya caleb realness

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter Three - Smoke and Whiskey

<< First Chapter - < Prev Chapter - Next Chapter >

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Alcohol mention, Smoking mention (Tobacco, cannabis), plus-sized reader, female reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me.

~3.2k

When you go back inside, you wind up wedged between John and Ghost on the bigger couch. Johnny’s stretched out on the smaller one, and Gaz claimed the chair that you’d been sitting in earlier, leaving you with no other option. Neither of them makes any effort to give you more space, even though they could. Ghost’s leg is pressed against yours from thigh to ankle, and John’s pinky finger keeps finding your thigh when he rests his tumbler against his knee. You want to curl up properly, tuck your feet up underneath yourself, but you can't without pressing even closer to at least one of them. At least Ghost isn’t quite as intimidating without his mask on.

After a while, Gaz and Ghost go out for a cigarette. The chair looks inviting, and you’d like to get a little space, but Price’s arm drops around your shoulders casually, pulling you in a little closer to his side. “Relax,” he says against the top of your head. “You’re alright, doll.”

The door opens again. “Soap, we’ve got a spliff, you want?” Gaz asks.

Johnny picks himself off the other couch, grinning. “Aye. An’ then cake?”

“Fuckin’ forgot about cake,” Ghost says. “Hey doll, d’you want some of this? Cap?”

“Who rolled it?” John asks. “Because I’m not smoking one of Gaz’s joints ever again.”

“Oh fuck off, Price, I can roll just fine.”

John looks at you and shakes his head slightly. “He really can’t.”

“I can roll,” you say. “I always do with my friends.”

You can see the calculation running behind John's eyes as he adds new information to what he knows and assumes about you. You want to laugh. You almost do. Most people take one look at you, with your big doe eyes and round face and and sunny disposition and think that you're some innocent little thing. Sure, you tend to live life with your arms open, and that might come across as naive to some, but you're not inexperienced by any means. You're nearly thirty years old, you're by no means a child.

"Let's see, then," he says. "Box on the coffee table has everything."

"Does tha' mean we can smoke inside again?" Soap asks. "It's startin' ta get pure Baltic out here."

John looks at you expectantly. "Up to you, doll."

"It's not my house."

He hums. "You're stayin' a while. Might as well be. It's important that you're comfortable."

You slide to the floor and reach for the box. "Well. You'd better open a window or two. But I don't mind."

Making a fuss over the semantics isn't worth doing. You probably are staying a while. Even if John really won't force you, you'll still need his cooperation to get all your stuff loaded back into the van, and all four of them are likely headed for hangovers.

John tells them to open the windows, and leans forward to watch you break up slightly sticky buds into the grinder. He brushes your hair behind your shoulders for you, and when you tip your head back to look at him, there's something in his eyes that makes your ears warm.

Johnny drops down to the floor on the other side of the table, a crumpled looking joint hanging out of his mouth. You can see what John means about not wanting to smoke it.

"You want a drink, doll?" Gaz asks. "More tea?"

You twist to look at him, hanging over the back of the couch, that handsome face smiling. "Have you got pop? Wouldn't mind a ginger ale."

"Got irn bru too," Soap suggests. "Ye've got some Scot in ye, aye?"

"Yes."

"Didja want more?"

You level an unimpressed look at him across the table. "I should've seen that one coming."

"I'd like to see ye com--"

"That'll do, Soap," John says firmly. "She's not goin' to have sex with you."

"Might feel a bit better if she did," Soap says, shrugging. "Ah'm just sayin'."

"You're not saying anything." Gaz sets an unopened can of ginger ale on the table next to you. "If you're gagging for it, we'll take care of you in a bit."

"And if you don't behave yourself you're not goin' to get anything," John rumbles from behind you. "She's been good. Surprised none of you have been slapped."

"Just the once." Gaz snags the joint from Johnny and sits back in the chair.

Ghost snorts. "What did you do?"

"Surprised her picking her up. My own fault."

You lean back and hold up the neat joint you've been rolling, hooking your arm over John's knee. He sets his whiskey to the side and takes it, holding it up for an inspection. "Nice work, doll," he says warmly. “Got a bit of a wild streak to you, eh?”

The praise makes you glow, despite yourself, and you laugh aloud at the second part, a real laugh, not nervous or bitter. All four of them shift their attention to you at the sound, snapping a tension you hadn’t noticed until you felt it’s absence. It’s important to them that you feel comfortable, and your genuine laughter is the first sign that you’re on your way. They really did think that they’d done you a favour.

Insane. But almost sweet, in a fucked up, unsettling way.

You pluck the joint out of John’s fingers and meet his dark blue eyes evenly, not missing the hunger that sparks into existence. “Got a light?”

John pulls his lighter out of his pocket, a little awkward with you leaning on his other leg, and holds the dancing flame out for you. You have to lean in a little to get to it, so you do, your eyes still locked on his as you inhale, the slight sizzle of paper and weed igniting clear in the otherwise silent room. You can hear the way his breath catches too, taken by surprise yet again. You offer the joint back to him, holding in a lungful of smoke.

“Shite,” Johnny hisses, breaking the heavy silence. “Yer absolutely sure ye dinnae want your cunt licked?”

You blow smoke at him from across the coffee table. “I’m sure.”

It doesn’t take long before drowsy complacency overtakes you. Curling up against John’s leg, your arm still hooked over his leg, you let conversation wash over your awareness, not paying enough attention to pick out one thing or another. John’s hand settles on your head, fingers threading into your dark hair, combing through soft strands idly. When you glance up at him, he’s watching you, blue eyes half-lidded but still plenty aware, a funny smile twisting the edges of his mouth upwards. He has nice lips under that bristling moustache of his, not as thin as you would have expected. His voice is a pleasant rumble when he speaks to the others,

He takes a sip of whiskey, and you follow the bob of his throat as he swallows, the way the tip of his tongue darting across his lips. It takes a moment for you to realize that he’s watching you study him.

“Hello, beautiful,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

For the first time since you’ve been there, you don’t feel scared. Just dozy and content, like a cat curled up next to a fireplace. “I’m alright,” you admit. “It’s been a strange day.”

His fingers flex, not quite gripping your hair, just holding you in place with the lightest pressure, encouraging you to keep facing him rather than turning away. “I imagine so.” His hand glides along to your ear, his thumb grazing over the shell, sending shivers down your spine. “It won’t be so strange tomorrow.”

“No more surprises planned?”

John glances up, looking at each of his men in turn, and then back to you. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“We do have cake, though,” Soap says. “Ye want some, bonnie?”

“Yes please.” You only turn to look at Soap for a moment before John is gently coaxing you back, curling his fingers around your jaw. Can he feel the way your heart leaps into your throat, thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings? It’s hard to look John in the eye, but harder still to pull yourself away. His touch leaves burning traces behind, and you’re all too aware of your body and the way you respond to him. It’s all too much, too soon and too strange.

He catches your hand when you try to brush his away. “Why don’t you come on back up here, doll?” he asks. “Be more comfortable than the floor, don’t you think?”

“No, I’m happy down here.” You tuck your knees to your chest, looping your arms around your legs, extricating yourself from his sphere of influence just a little. You’re still pressed up against his calf, but you don’t need to go that far, you just need to face forward so you won’t get pinned under that blue stare again.

John has a certain gravity, a magnetism that you can’t help but be drawn in by. It would be all too easy to sink into his arms, but the idea that you’d been given to him still bothers you, like a persistent, sharp little stone in your shoe, ruining what might have been something.

You perk up some when Soap hands you a plate with a slice of chocolate cake on it. It's not the prettiest thing you've ever seen, but it tastes incredible, rich dark chocolate and an icing that had so much whiskey in it that your teeth feel funny after a few bites.

"This is really good, Johnny," you tell him. "If the whole military thing doesn't work out, you could consider becoming a baker."

"Thanks, hen. And dinnae think I havena considered it. Gettin' closer to packin' it in awl the time. Just cannae leave Gaz until he's got a good team watchin' his back."

"We've got some good sergeants," Gaz says. "Nitro's got real promise."

"Shivs too. Little devil," Ghost adds. "You need a door smasher though. Those girls are tough as 'ell, but some occasions call for a big boot."

"Aye, ye'd say that, bein' the biggest fuckin' boot the Queen's army has ever seen."

"King now," John points out.

"Oh, fuck if I care which poncy arsed Windsor is sittin' in the big chair."

"Bloody leeches," Ghost agrees.

"I've got Sanderson in mind." Gaz winks at you, like you're in on some secret.

"Gary Sanderson? Is he no' dead?"

"No! Turns out he locked himself in a cryo chamber when the bomb went off. That facility was full of 'em, all kinds of experimental tech. It was finally safe to take a team in and we found him. Nitro started calling him Roach, and it's stuck."

"He's a damn good soldier. Be good for the taskforce," Price agrees. "Would've picked him ten years ago."

"Well, he's had a nice long nap, and he's hopping mad about missing so much. He'll make a good doorsmasher," Gaz says.

"How about that Lucky kid? Nitro’s brother.” Price asks. “He looked pretty promising. Unless his luck ran out.”

Gaz hums, licking frosting off his fork. “He’s a good kid, but his problem is that as soon as Nitro’s around he lets her do all his thinking for him. Splits her focus.”

You sigh, setting your half-finished slice of cake down on the table in front of you, and climb to your feet, wincing at the ache of not moving for so long. You edge between Ghost’s knees and the coffee table and skirt around the edge of the couch wordlessly. No one stops you, and there’s no falter to their conversation despite the eyes that follow you until you disappear upstairs to use the washroom.

As you wash your hands, you stare at your own face in the mirror. You look pretty, even with your eyeliner a little smudged, and your lipstick faded to nothing. The buzz of THC is your system makes you giggle. Pretty enough to kidnap, even.

You think about it for a long moment, and then take your makeup off and braid your hair back so you can wash your face properly, and brush your teeth too. All the weirdness of the day is catching up, and all you want to do is sleep it off. The low buzz of their voices carries up the stairs when you step out into the hallway again, seemingly unbothered by your absence. There's no reason for you to say goodnight-- you don't owe them any kind of civility. But you still hesitate.

Long enough that John appears at the bottom of the stairs. "You alright, doll?" He asks. "Comin' back down?" The stairs creak slightly under his weight as he starts coming up towards you.

"I was thinking-- I'm just tired, is all. It's been a long day."

He stops two steps down, so he's still looking up at you. "I understand. We can talk more in the morning."

"I'm sure there's a lot to discuss."

"If you say so. Already told you most of what I needed to tell."

"Just most?"

He nods, and beckons you closer, a conspiratorial smile on his face. You take one halting step toward him, and then another, until you stand right at the top of the stairs. His big hands catch yours, holding you in place when he moves one step up, taller than you once more.

You stare up at him, and your breathing is turned shallow, your heartbeat rapid and heady. His eyes glitter in the dim light as he leans close, the tip of his nose skimming yours, as if he means to kiss you. Like a deer pinned under the headlights of a rapidly approaching truck, you stand frozen, unsure if you even want to move, or if you welcome the inevitable collision.

He smells like smoke and whiskey when he speaks, his lips so close to yours you can feel the soft brush of breath on your skin. "Forgot to tell you how good you look in my shirt," he purrs. "Been thinkin' to say so all night."

Heat licks across your cheeks, his words waking something dangerous in your core, something that wants his hands on you more than anything else. It’s unfair, what he does to you already, barely more than a stranger, and you want him to be a good man so you can indulge that desire without fear of consequence. It’s been such a long time since someone looked at you the way he looks at you now, an almost indescribable fondness that you haven’t even begun to earn.

“It’s a nice shirt,” you say lamely. “Thank you for lending it to me.” You don’t mention that it smells very pleasantly like him, and how it’s been a bit difficult to keep yourself from sniffing at the flannel all evening.

“You’re welcome to anything I have,” he says, and you know he means it.

“I hope that includes your bed,” you say jokingly, trying (and failing) to diffuse the intensity in his eyes. “Because I think that’s where I’m headed now.”

“Of course it does.” His thumb rubs across your knuckles, the other hand coming up to cradle your cheek. You shake, all nerves, worried that he’ll close the distance and kiss you, but he just taps his forehead against yours instead, eyes smiling. “Off you go, sweet thing. You give us a shout if we get too loud, eh?”

You swallow nervously and nod, taking a step backwards. “Goodnight, John.”

"Goodnight, doll.”

You quickly shut yourself into the other room, flicking on the light while you strip down to your panties and wrap the flannel shirt around yourself again, and tuck yourself into bed. It’s been a bizarre day, and the room feels strange, too open and too dark, but it still doesn’t take long to fall asleep.

Hours later, you wake at the sound of the door opening and clicking shut again. You sit up before you’re fully alert, dreams shredding apart and solidifying into reality as you blink away sleep.

“Shh, s’just me,” John’s voice comes out of the darkness, slurring slightly. You can’t see anything in the darkness, until he crosses over to the window and opens the curtains, letting in a little light from the waxing moon outside. He turns towards her, his big frame silhouetted against the scant light, humming. “Bloody hell, you’re a pretty little thing.” The soft clink of his belt buckle is far too loud in the quiet room, as is the rustle of his clothes as he strips down to his boxers.

“John, what are you doing?” you ask nervously.

“Coming to bed,” he says, like it’s obvious. “M’too old to sleep on the floor, and Gaz is on the big couch.”

“Oh. I’ll move then. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.” You throw back the sheets and swing your legs onto the floor.

“No, no, stay right where you are.” He swoops over and grips your legs gently, lifting them up and back onto the bed. He smells strongly of whiskey and mint toothpaste, and the clinging remnants of cigar smoke. “We can share tonight. Get things set up better tomorrow.”

“John…”

He slides into bed beside you and easily pulls you close, strong arms wrapping around you tightly, rolling so you’re half on top of him, one hand cradling your back and the other on your waist. “Yeah, doll?” he asks.

“John, we can’t— I can’t sleep like this.”

“Shh, just give me a minute to hold my pretty girl.” He nuzzles against the top of your head. “I’m gonna be so good to you, sweetheart. I promise.”

"You're drunk," you say, holding the flimsy excuse out for him, hoping that he'll take it. You don't want to think about him meaning it. It makes going home look all the more unlikely.

"A little," he admits. His hand drifts lower, fingers dipping below the soft lace of your panties to dig into soft skin around your hip. He groans. "You're perfect. Sweet and soft, so damn beautiful. I'll make you happy. I'll give you anything you want, if you stay with me."

"John! Stop that, we can talk later, just go to sleep."

"I know this all started wrong, doll. The lads got carried away. But this is right. You feel that too, don't you? We'll have to come up with a better story for our kids, hm? Something proper romantic." He kisses the top of your head, humming happily.

"Our kids?" you squeak. "Jesus, John, you can't be serious."

"Course I am. We can start trying whenever you're ready."

Well, at least now you know he's just as delusional as the rest of them. "You don't even know if I want kids."

"You do," he says confidently. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're drunk," you say firmly. "Go to sleep."

He chuckles. "You didn't say I'm wrong."

You push away and roll over so you don't have to look right at him. Even in the darkness, you're certain that your face betrays more than you'd like. It was none of his business if you wanted kids. You certainly weren't going to have them with him. "Go to sleep," you repeat.

"Yes ma'am," he says, looping his arms around you again, tugging you close to his chest. "Goodnight, doll."

Thanks for reading!

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune