#the protection against the cold and all of that

[her-devils-advocate]

The hour in-between

pairings: Levi Ackerman x reader

genre: fluff

summary: Levi Ackerman, humanity's strongest soldier and weakest sleeper. You’re not surprised to find him sneaking out of bed to be reunited with his paperwork, but you are touched that he still holds you in his arms until you have reached a deep slumber before he slips away.

Tonight you catch him returning to your side, determined to spend time with him before the world wakes.

word count: 1,301

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55489207

The gentle tapping of the rain hitting the window greets you as you slowly wake, blearily rubbing your eyes with a small yawn. You turn your vision towards the window, watching as the moon's silver rays peek through the gaps in the ageing curtains. You can’t gauge its position, but from the owl happily cooing outside, you can guess the hour is still late. It’s too late for most to be awake as the headquarters lies still, nestled safely within the walls and protecting its dedicated soldiers as they rest. 

All but one, you surmise as you notice the distinct lack of weight around your waist and the cold spot in the bed next to you.

The dim candlelight that bleeds in from the connected office, flowing through the slightly ajar door, confirms your thoughts. You roll your eyes as you snuggle deeper into the cosy blanket you are wrapped up in. After all, if he wants to forfeit such a luxury, then it’s only fair that you benefit from all of its plush -and expensive- fabric. 

Levi Ackerman, humanity's strongest soldier and weakest sleeper. You’re not surprised to find him sneaking out of bed to be reunited with his paperwork, but you are touched that he still holds you in his arms until you have reached a deep slumber before he slips away to his desk, only returning to your sleeping form at an unholy hour in the morning. 

You wish that he could fully relax, to enjoy the luxuries of sleep for longer than a few hours each night, yet no matter what either of you do to try and help, it continues to elude him. The scars run too deeply for the issue to be fixed that easily.

You quickly close your eyes as the light is suddenly snuffed from the world, the soft padding of bare feet on the cold wood grows clearer the closer he gets.

The creaking of the bed echoes around the deathly quiet room, the whispered swears that follow bring a small smile to your lips as you feel the mattress beside you dip to accompany him. You do your best to pretend to sleep as he slips close behind you, bringing a strong and toned arm around your form to pull you closer to his chest.

You feel his body relax against yours, a small sigh brushing past your ear as he nuzzles his face against your neck. These hours are just for you and him, where all the mental walls have been lowered without worrying about someone else peering past them. Where you can both be regular humans, not soldiers with appearances to keep up and masks to hold in place.

All things considered, these are your favourite hours. 

You would never admit out loud how you’ve slowly adapted to waking up just in time to catch him returning, to feel him curl around you and to finally relax and let himself be just Levi. Within these four walls, once the light of day has faded, you get to love without worry and to experience love the way the people you fight to protect experience it.

“I know you’re awake, you’re such a shit actor.” 

The murmured words cause you to jump and you can feel his smirk against your skin. Levi slowly repositions himself, his elbow digging into the pillow as he now leans over you instead. You can’t help but stare up at him, taking in the way his dark fringe hangs down over his face. The way the silver of his eyes seems to glow within the light of the moon. You know he would scoff at the thought, but he looks angelic as he looks down at you.

“What gave it away?” Your words come out reluctantly, your body still shaking off the embers of sleep.

“Most people don’t have a dopey smile on their face when they sleep. Your breathing also gave you away.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ackerman.” You reply with a small pout, while you do your best to fight back the mentioned smile.

“Uh huh,” Levi’s eyes shine with affection despite his usual flat expression. His hand finds your own among the sea of fabric between you, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. You watch as he casts his eyes over your thoroughly tucked-in state, his eyebrows rising with silent amusement.

“Will I be getting any of that back?”

“Depends,” you keep your voice light as you pull the ends of the cover closer to your chin, embracing the warmth he’s trying to reclaim. 

“On what?”

“Will you be staying for the rest of the night? Or will I snatch this blanket back in a few hours after you sneak off to betray me for paperwork? Cause I’m very comfy, you know.”

His eyes soften as he slowly pulls at the blanket until he can slip alongside you underneath it. You happily shuffle closer to press up against his broad chest once more, to feel that missing weight return to your waist as his arm gently settles into place. You wrap yourself around him as much as you can, using both your arms and legs to cling to him tightly.

As you wiggle your leg to get comfortable, a small hiss falls from his lips as he jolts. You look up at him with a mixture of confusion and concern, scared that he had been injured somehow.

“The fuck? You had the entire blanket and your toes are still like shards of ice.”

Concern melts into amusement as you slowly bring your foot closer to his calf, taunting him as your eyes lock onto his to meet his harsh glare.

“Don’t you dare. Do that again and I will be doing paperwork for the rest of the night.” Despite his words, his tone is light as he dangles the weak threat over your head, causing you to cling to him even tighter with a light laugh.

“I promise I won’t do it again, tonight at least.”

You get a reluctant sigh in response as Levi idly draws circles onto the flesh of your shoulder, slowly beckoning sleep closer once more. You blink, trying to fight off the sensation and willing your body to disobey its desire to fall asleep once more. You want to spend as much time in his arms as possible, sleeping through the domestic moment doesn’t count when it deprives you of seeing the rare soft smile on his face.

It seems that he agrees as his low voice breaks you from your thoughts.

“What are you doing awake anyway? It’s late and Erwin expects to see us at a stupidly early time tomorrow, you should be getting as much rest as you can.”

You let out a small snort, of course he would have a gentle lecture about sleeping habits ready.

“Pot, meet kettle?” You bite your lip to prevent yourself from giggling in his face when he moves to give your forehead a small yet strong poke. He soothes the area with a gentle kiss, his lips featherlight as they press against your forehead.

“Okay, okay…I woke up to wait for you to return.” You bury your face in the crook of his neck, missing the way his features soften at your bashful confession, your tongue betraying your mind with the reluctant reveal. You have always been the more verbally affectionate one in the relationship, yet you still have your moments where words and vulnerability are a challenge. 

His hand cradles the back of your head, pulling it closer while his fingers tangle in your hair. His voice is now a sleepy whisper as his body and mind finally begin to relax. 

“Well, I’m here now. So you can finally get some proper rest.”

[katsukisbimbo]

Silver haze: Peach Ringz

- pairing: ryomen sukuna × reader, gojo satoru x reader, getou suguru × reader, (slight gojo × getou)

- synopsis: who knew letting your fuck buddy roll on your back would lead to sweet forehead kisses and naps

- wordcount: 2.7k

- warning: fem! reader, she/her pronouns, squirting, car sex, use of drugs, smoking, mentions of marijuana, oral, throatfucking, slight dubcon, unprotected sex, degradation, sub/dom themes, creampie, slight size kink, mention of panty sniffing, mention of panty tasting >.<

part one and two

- note: after 3 years of hiatus, i birth this. please enjoy. also for my weed smokers, try the strain peach ringz, it tastes like peaches!

Your eyes widened in fear, the voice startling you to the point where you felt as if your heart was going to jump out of your mouth. You scrambled to cover yourself, Sukuna watching in amusement as he did not move to even protect his decency.

“Why do you always have to fuck things up Yuji?” Sukuna sighs, palm slapping the top of Yuji’s head.

Yuji swats his hand away and grumbles under his breath before speaking. “If anything I’m saving our sweet soon-to-be manager from your corruption.” He points accusingly. “She’s so sweet and you’re taking advantage of her!”. His words echo through your mind, various thoughts rushing from the back of your head as you start to overthink. Has he been using you? What did you even expect from your little excursions with him?

“Hey, if anything, she’s using me.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, wrapping an arm around your waist to press you tight against his warm body. Yuji turns to face you now, eyes filled with concern and a hint of sympathy.

“Would you like me to take you home? My car’s just around the building. I bet you’re feeling a little cold right now.” His eyes soften. “I can turn on the seat warmer for you. I promise I’ll get you home safe.”

You slowly just nod your head, body and mind on autopilot as you slowly slip away from Sukuna’s grip and he lets you. Disappointment fills his entire being but he doesn’t let it show, but you’re too distraught to notice anyway.

Yuji takes you by the hand and quickly takes his sweater off to place around your shoulders, securing it before wrapping an arm around you and walking away from an irritated Sukuna, his cock now flaccid.

___

The car ride home was a blur, the event had left you feeling dismayed and a tad humiliated. It was your first day meeting Yuji and he had seen you in such a compromising position with his teammate, and in public as well! Thoughts of leaving the country and changing your name were heavy on your mind, but you knew it wasn’t the wisest decision especially when you have Suguru and Satoru to care for.

“Babe? You home?” a voice calls out.

Satoru probably, you think. You take your comforter and pull it over your head, dread filling each nerve of your body. This whole day has been a weird blur and all you’d like to do is sleep and pretend it never happened.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” Suguru asks, voice brimming with concern. He knew, they both knew, but they wanted to know what you would say. If you’d keep your little shenanigan up and lie to them once more.

“Please leave me alone.” You mumble, voice muffled by the thick comforter still covering your head. You feel comfortable and safe, but it is at that moment when Satoru decides he’s had enough and rips away your comfort and safety straight through your fingertips.

Before a yelp even leaves your throat, you’re being tackled by two oversized grown babies, each at your sides. Their limbs are long and wrapping around you, fingertips desperately but gently digging into whatever skin they can find. And their faces are close, so close you can smell the skin of their necks and cheeks, their pheromones causing you to sigh in delight.

“You both smell so good.” You sigh once more, eyes shut in absolute bliss as Satoru slowly starts mouthing at your neck, a trail of pecks with the occasional tongue darting out to taste you. But it was okay, Satoru always did weird things like this.

Suguru placed his large hand on top of your chest, palm cupping your breast, but even that was normal too. You three just had a close and affectionate relationship. There was nothing wrong with that. At least that’s what they both had told you.

“I know. You’re a weird little freak who likes to sniff me.” Suguru laughs, index finger tracing around your nipple and smirking when he sees your little bud stiffen up from a mere touch. Your breath hitches, maybe his finger just slipped.

“No, I’m not, I’m not Satoru.” You huff.

“Yeah, he’s worse. He likes to sniff your panties when you’re gone.”

“Are you fucking serious? Satoru!” A loud smack echoes through the room followed by obnoxious laughter and yelling.

“I was just sniffing it but HE was tasting it!”

“You both better be fucking with me!”

“Of course we are, we’re not crazy.”

They were.

___

A few days had gone by without seeing Sukuna, you decided that it would be better to turn down the position you were offered. In your opinion, Sukuna hadn’t done anything wrong, you’re a consenting adult and you liked it.

But it was just the embarrassment as well and his indifference to both of you getting caught in the act. You knew your relationship wasn’t serious, but you at least thought he would’ve cared a little more about your well-being and feelings.

You are human after all.

“Hey beautiful,” A familiar voice whispers in your ear. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Was that on purpose?”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes to the back of your skull. Of course, it was on purpose and he knew that. He wasn’t stupid. “Take a guess.” You grumble, not even sparing him a glance as you speed up a little. His large hand grabs your forearm and spins you to face him, pulling you against his body, an odd habit of his.

“Can we at least talk? Maybe sit down in my car so we can have a private space? I’ll drive us somewhere quiet. I just wanna apologize.” You look at him with a raised brow and he sighs, raking his free hand through his unruly pink hair. “Jus’ hear me out, princess.”

___

You watch him as he rolls a spliff on his lap, his little weed bag containing jars of weed, a grinder, papers, and a pen. You weren’t sure what the pen was for. Maybe for emergencies.

“Do you have to smoke every time we sit in your car?” You grimace as he lights it, the pungent smell hitting you quickly. He smirks a little and wraps his pink lips around the filter, taking a long drag before turning and blowing it towards your face.

“Yeah, I do. What else am I gonna do? Not smoke?” He raises a brow. You roll your eyes. He offers you a toke and you gladly take it, needing to expel the irritation and stress coursing through your veins.

“I’m really sorry pretty girl, I am.” He starts and looks down at your lap, unable to meet your eyes as you take a few more hits. “I was a dick. I still am. I should’ve covered you up n shit.” He sighs. “Yuji ripped me a new one after he dropped you off. I feel really bad ‘nd I jus’ wanted to say I’m sorry baby.”

The weed in your system causes you to just lightly nod your head, eyes nearly fluttering shut as the familiar feeling of being high rolls through your body in what feels like waves. Your eyes shut and you feel the spliff being taken from your fingertips.

“Say something, princess.”

“S’fine. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just have some respect for me, that’s all.” You whisper lightly.

“I promise I’ll respect you so good baby.” He grins, handing you the spliff to take the last few tokes. “So…” He starts. “We’re good now right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Can you suck my dick?”

“…Yeah.”

He quickly discards the roach, a giddy smile on his face as he hastily unzips his pants, not even taking the time to lower them and only pulling his stiff cock out, giving it a few strokes. You watch, entranced by the way his precum pools at the tip.

You can’t help the way your thighs squeeze and your mouth fills up with saliva. “Taste it, baby, I wanna see your slutty lips around my tip.” He speaks huskily while stroking the base of his fat cock.

You find yourself leaning over, seatbelt off in a flash and his cock in your mouth, tongue licking up his leaking cock. Sukuna throws his head back in bliss, a shaky sigh escaping his lips. All he can think about is fucking your slutty mouth ‘til you’re choking down his cum. He can’t decide if he wants to cum down your throat or cum all over your pretty face.

“Yeah, you like that? You like the way my cock tastes? Throat that shit baby, I wanna feel your throat squeeze my cock.” You feel his large hand on top of your head pushing you down, and you let him. You like it, you hate to admit it but you like the way he treats you. It feels so lewd and so wrong but it makes your pussy wet anyway.

“Fuck my dicks already numb baby. I need another fucking spliff.” He mumbles before reaching for his little bag once more. “Keep sucking my dick baby. I’m jus' gonna roll on your back so don’t go too crazy yeah?” You garble out a response, throat tightening around his cock.

You continue to slobber and lick at his cock, careful to not move your back too much as you feel his jars lined up on your spine, his grinder and tray placed carefully on the left side of your back. “You’re so fucking good for me baby, my dirty little slut sucking my cock. Fuck. You look so fucking good.” He groans, licking the paper and smoothening the sides to make the perfect cone. He then uses the pen to lightly push the contents inside, making sure to not stuff it too much.

“Almost done baby. Lemme get all this off of you and I’ll face fuck you.” You moan in response, feeling yourself relax a tad when you feel the pressure taken off of your back. He lights his spliff and you take that as a moment to catch your breath, pulling off his spit-soaked cock.

He whips his head and glares at you. He wants to be mad, but seeing your face streaming with tears, covered in precum and spit. He feels like he wants to give you a baby right then and there.

“Did I say you can stop sucking? You’re my sex slave. You do whatever the fuck I tell you to. So fucking do what I say or else I won’t fuck you.” He growls, his heavy hand smacking your ass swiftly and pushing your head back down on his throbbing dick.

“Show me you’re sorry baby. I wanna see how fucking sorry you are.” You nod tearfully. Your hand cups his balls, squeezing and playing with them in your palms. “Oh fuck.” He moans, head thrown back with his spliff held between his lips.

You relax your throat and swallow his entire cock, your face pressed tight against his pelvis. His fingers dig into your scalp, loud moans leaving his lips. “Shit. Fuck. Stay down there. Keep it down your throat baby.” You start gagging, your untrained throat failing you. “Imma cum baby, imma give your throat a fat fucking load ‘cuz you deserve it.” He moans, shallowly fucking his cock down your throat.

You feel his entire body go stiff, a loud moan breaking the short silence. You feel his cock twitching down as well as his cum going straight down your throat, his cock lodged so deep inside that swallowing was unnecessary.

He wasn’t lying, he did have a big load. You pull your head back, coughing and spitting out his large load. Your chest heaves as you catch your breath. Everything feels wet and sticky. Your saliva had dripped down your chin and soaked your shirt. You’ve soaked through your panties and you can feel your thighs sticking to the leather of the seat as you sit back down.

“Tissue?” You croak out, looking at him as his chest heaves. His eyes snap open. “No.” He states bluntly. “What do you mean no? Look at me! I’m so messy!” You complain, feeling the remnants of his cum drying on your skin.

“Get in the back. I’m gonna fuck you.”

“Can I at least clean—“

“Get in the fucking back.”

___

“Suguru, she’s not answering her phone.” Gojo whines. He was a petulant child indeed. Getou sighs, irritation building. He knows where you are and who you’re with. He’s just not sure what to do about it. He wants you. Both of them do.

Sure, Gojo’s a bit more straightforward and spoiled, always expecting everyone to bend to his will. But Getou knew that if you made your choice, there would be no changing your mind.

“Hello? Suguru? Are you ignoring me?” Gojo whines once more, stomping his foot like once again, a petulant child. Getou sighs in annoyance.

“Stop acting like a kid. You know where she is, and you know what she’s doing.” He pauses. “What do you wanna do about it?”

Gojo smirks.

“I have an idea, I’m just not sure you’re up for it.”

___

The world's spinning. At this point, you’re ready to leave the earth. Your body’s gone numb and you’re struggling to breathe once more as Sukuna tightens his grip on your throat.

You’re laying on your back in the backseat of his car, legs hooked over his shoulders as he fucks into you, slow but rough. His cock batters against your cervix causing your toes to curl in both pain and pleasure.

“You’re so fucking creamy holy shit. I’m gonna have to detail my car after this.” He laughs lightly. “Every time I squeeze your throat your pussy gets tighter.” He moans, fucking into you harder.

“I wanna see you squirt on my dick baby. You think you can?”

“M-Maybe, I’ve never squirted before.” You squeal when his thumb slides down your entire abdomen and presses against your clit, the rough pads of his fingers expertly playing with your sensitive parts. He watches your facial expressions attentively, figuring out what feels good and what doesn’t.

He craves to have you lose yourself on his cock. He wants you completely dick-drunk and bending to his will. He knows you can. You’ve been so good for him, it feels as if you could be the one for him.

“Sukuna!” You moan. You feel the pressure building in your abdomen. Your pussy grips his cock tighter and you feel as if you’re about to cum, eyes rolling back into their sockets. “‘M g’nna squirt!” You mumble, too far gone in your pleasure.

“Yeah? Squirt baby. I wanna feel you soak my cock. Squirt for me and only me.” He groans, his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs as he feels your cunt squeeze around him. He doesn’t know how much longer until he loses himself. But he knows he wants you to cum first.

The pressure in your abdomen snaps and a string of whines and moans fall from your lips. Your whole body trembles as you squirt, soaking your entire bottom half as well as Sukuna’s. But he’s not satisfied. He wants much more. He continues to bully your clit with his thumb, synchronizing each thrust with a roll of your bud.

“S’kuna! I can’t! Too sensitive!” You squeal, hands gripping his forearm tightly but he doesn’t let up. He knows what he wants and he’s gonna have it.

“I’m gonna fill this fucking pussy up. I don’t give a fuck about your two bodyguards.”

“Wait! Don’t!”

“I don’t care.” He smacks your hands away. He grips your wrists in his large hand and pins them above your head, his other hand occupied.

“I’m cumming baby~” He moans, thrusting his dick as deep as his can, grinding his tip against your bruised cervix as his cum paints your walls white.

You’re both left trembling and heaving, his cock still twitching and emptying itself inside your cunt. You wonder if you’ll be able to experience this type of sex with anyone else. Or if you’ll think about the way Sukuna makes you feel your entire life.

“Wanna go back to my place and nap? We can pick up some Wingstop.” He gives you a toothy grin before kissing your forehead. You can’t do anything but nod tiredly, throat still sore from Sukuna’s abuse.

But you wonder, was it normal for fuck buddies to kiss each other's foreheads so gently?

© katsukisbimbo 2024 — all rights reserved. please refrain from modifying, translating, reposting of any kind. plagiarism will NOT be tolerated. please be kind and enjoy

[jinwoosungs]

{ 155 }

follow you.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ i will follow you way down wherever you may go | i'll follow you way down to your deepest low | i'll always be around wherever life takes you | you know i'll follow you... }

anonymous said: Is it possible to have a scenario with Jinwoo where f.reader is dealing with a co-worker in his 50s at work who makes her uncomfortable by making inappropriate remarks in his conversations with her and never respects her personal space, she isn't scared of him but he makes her anxious and nervous at his sight for 7 months straight...and she doesn't tell Jinwoo until he starts noticing that she spaces out more often lost in her thoughts. (Its a true event that happened to me at my work and I hope you can write a comforting scenario for it😮‍💨 also eager to see more of protective Jinwoo 😏)

lately, you found yourself dreading the thought of going to work.

you were a young woman who was a regular civilian in this world filled with hunters, gates, and monsters. ever since these strange gates began to appear all across the world, thousands of people awakened with this unique ability to combat against these threats-

your boyfriend being one of these well known hunters.

however, you were not one of those special humans that had awakened with these abilities.

which was why you worked a regular office job in the midst of the city. and your job was by no means too difficult-

however, there was just one tiny issue with your workplace-

and that came in the form of your highly persistent coworker.

he was a balding man that appeared to be in his mid-50s named ryung. the moment your assigned cubicle was directly next to him, the man made it his life's mission to constantly flirt with you. in between breaks, he would find you and proceed to talk to you, all while placing lingering touches against your arm or shoulder.

"you're so beautiful, hehe."

"you say you have a boyfriend, but i don't believe he's serious about you. hell, if i were 30 years younger, i would have snatched you up and put a ring on that pretty little finger of yours!"

"damn, your ass looks fine in that skirt..."

hearing such constant remarks was enough to make you shudder.

despite the many times you told him you had a boyfriend (that also worked as a powerful hunter!), the man refused to back off. and the fact that this had been going on for nearly 7 months now made it so much worse for you.

now, you were filled with anxiety when ryung casually saunters up to your cubicle. even during the times where you purposely ignored him, the man would simply proceed to linger outside of your cubicle, forcing you to listen to his heavy breathing and crazed mutterings, only walking away when the sounds of your other coworkers approaching forces him to make his retreat.

you thought about turning in your letter of resignation several times, but always decided against it, since this was a good job that paid well-

and you didn't want your boyfriend to do all the heavy lifting when it came to your shared finances.

being so caught up with your thoughts, you couldn't even touch the breakfast your boyfriend had made for you, making him frown in response. he calls out your name several times, but you remain completely unresponsive to him.

"sarang." he calls out your nickname while brushing the ice cold glass of orange juice against your cheek. the sudden, icy sensation felt against your skin successfully manages to break you out of your thoughts, forcing to face your boyfriend's concerned gaze.

"jinwoo... what is it?"

jinwoo sighs before running a hand through his hair, placing the glass of orange juice back on the table. "i was asking you if you were okay for several minutes now, and you just recently responded to me. is something bothering you? i noticed that you haven't been yourself lately... ever since you started your job at that company."

you shift around uncomfortably in your seat, feeling as though you were being interrogated by jinwoo.

"it's nothing, jin. just-"

"bullshit it's nothing."

jinwoo then casually sits back in his seat with his arms crossed, his voice coming out as strained as he was clearly trying to control his anger.

"has ryung been bothering you again?"

your mouth goes dry, meeting jinwoo's gaze with wide eyes.

"h-how did you know about that?"

a smirk paints his handsome features. "have you forgotten just who your lover is?"

ah, that's right... he was the shadow monarch. he probably placed a bunch of his soldiers within your shadow and saw what was going on through their eyes.

"i could always have bellion rip through him for you?" jinwoo asks you while letting out a series of rich chuckles, but you were only half-certain that he was simply joking.

"n-no, you don't need to go that far. ryung is harmless... but a nuisance."

jinwoo hums before gesturing at your plate of breakfast. "come on, go ahead and finish eating. i'm going to take you to work."

"oh, you don't need to, jinwoo-"

"sarang, please, i insist."

with his voice dripping with a saccharine sweetness, you could no longer deny him. letting out a sigh, you give him a nod before returning your attention back to the delicious breakfast jinwoo had prepared for you.

you spend the next thirty minutes making small talk with your boyfriend, setting up plans for the upcoming weekend while being filled with an eagerness for the end of the week. once you finished eating and jinwoo had washed all the plates did he grab his keys. smoothing out your blouse and skirt, you grab your own briefcase while walking out the door with jinwoo.

throughout the whole drive to your workplace, jinwoo holds on to your hand while keeping his other hand on the steering wheel. during every stop light, he brings the back of your hand up against his lips, giving it a sweet kiss while basking in your joyful giggles.

soon enough, jinwoo arrives and parks in front of your office building, unbuckling his seat belt before heading out to open the door for you. seeing him smiling down at you, you give him his hand and allow him to walk with you into the building.

upon entering your workplace, several people recognized jinwoo and immediately greet him (all while trying to hold back their awe). your boyfriend keeps his hand on yours, simply returning their greetings with a smile before escorting you to the elevators.

the ride to the twentieth floor was filled with eager giggles and soft kisses, and you quickly felt your anxieties melt away. a few seconds later, the elevator doors slide open as you and jinwoo walked into the floor where you usually worked.

but instead of allowing you to enter your cubicle, he places a hand behind your back, leading you directly towards ryung's office space.

as if sensing you, the older man looks away from his computer screen, raspy voice calling out your name in an almost possessive manner when he faces you-

only to let out a desperate gasp when jinwoo uses his powers to lift ryung off the ground.

"ack!"

"jinwoo!"

but jinwoo ignores your sudden cries of his name, eyes glowing a bright purple hue as he continues to lift ryung mid-air with his telekinesis. choked sounds were heard coming from the man, and your mind was spinning, becoming filled with a sudden panic-

you didn't want jinwoo to get in trouble because of this man!

"if you continue to flirt with my lover so shamelessly like that ever again, i'll kill you."

within seconds, jinwoo releases his invisible grip on ryung, causing the older man to land on his knees for him. he was coughing, with tears filling his vision as the fear was evident in his eyes. completely ignoring ryung, jinwoo turns his attention back to you all while giving you a sweet smile.

"come, i'll take you back to your cubicle, sarang."

you give jinwoo an exasperated sigh, running your hips against his all while whispering to him, "you're insane, using your powers on him like that...?!"

"so what? i put the fear of the shadow monarch into him. there's no way he would dare to flirt with you now."

as if on cue, you hear ryung let out a whimper while pretending to type something on his computer. you shake your head at jinwoo, but still accept his kiss when he leans down toward you.

only after he was satisfied with your kiss did jinwoo pull away from you. "call me when you're done with your shift, and i'll pick you up."

you give him one last nod, watching as jinwoo leaves your office before deciding to login to your own computer, ready to start your day with a confident smile on your face, secretly grateful for jinwoo's intervention as you were certain ryung would leave you alone now.

{ ... }

the next morning, when you came into work and saw that ryung's cubicle was completely emptied of his belongings, confirming your coworker's mention of his sudden resignation-

that was when you let out a relieved sigh while giggling slightly.

perhaps you would need to treat jinwoo to something nice after all.

a.n. - hhhhh more double updates because i love jinwoo soooo much! 😭

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[milf-murdock]

Hi!! I love love love your writing! Especially your 141!Reader series <3 I don't know if you take requests, but your last post about Simon and baby Joseph made me so angsty and I would love to read more angst from you. Could you please write about Simon thinking 141!Reader was KIA on a mission? Thank you!!!

Anon....who....who hurt you???? I’m kidding 😆 mostly 👀 But for real, this one HURT. Like. OUCH. This man has been through so fucking much…but let’s put him through a bit more 😈😈😈 also, I did very much hurt my own feelings with this one. So I’m thinking we might need a part two reunion because I don’t know if I can leave our Ghosty boy in shambles like this

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

The rain patters against the window in a steady rhythm.

Simon watches the fat raindrops roll down the small window pane, one foot anxiously tapping against the concrete floor. He didn’t know why he was called to Price’s office, but there was an ominous charge to the air. Call it a premonition, or maybe an instinct, but he knew in his bones that something was wrong. 

The click of the door handle pulls Simon from his thoughts as Price enters the office, a heavy silence filling the air. 

“What’s happened?” Simon's voice has a hard edge to it, cutting straight through the bullshit. Watchful eyes appraise every detail of Price’s body language, and Simon notes the deep sunken look of his captain’s eyes accentuated by a somber expression. 

Price avoids Simon's gaze, staring down at the oak desktop before him as he takes a seat. The captain wasn’t one to mince words or beat around the bush, but even he was having a hard time wrapping his mind around the situation despite his many years in the service.  

Simon's heart hammers in his chest, every second in the unknown feeling like an eternity. This isn’t right, he thinks to himself. 

Price steels himself with a deep inhale, pulling his gaze from the desk to face Simon head on, looking past the mask, speaking to the man he knew laid beneath. 

“I wanted you to hear this from me, son. You…deserve to hear this from me.” 

Simon stops breathing. 

With practiced determination, Price continues his speech, having rehearsed the words in his head the entire walk down to his office. 

“Reconnaissance mission, Operation Blackout, suffered multiple casualties after a long-range detonation by enemy action. There’s been no contact with the team, and rescue attempts were unsuccessful due to the extensive damage caused by the explosion. All team members are presumed KIA. The official course of action…”

The rest of Price’s speech is drowned out by the dull roar in Simon’s ears; his blood runs cold, his rigid body barely breathing. 

This can’t be happening. Not again. Never again. 

Simon's thoughts grip him by the heart, squeezing painfully. 

I can’t do this again.

He had already lost everyone once. Had built impenetrable walls, designed to protect him from this type of pain. 

But you. You and your goddamn charm, and your soft smiles, and your relentless fucking attitude. You broke down those walls brick by brick, made Ghost–no, made Simon– feel more like a man than he had in years. You slipped past his ironclad defenses and took his heart without him even realizing it. 

And just when he had finally opened up, just when he had finally convinced himself that maybe he could be happy–that you could be happy together. It all came crashing down. 

In the distance, Ghost could hear shouting. A chorus of denials piercing the air, heavy ragged breaths filling the silence between. 

A heavy hand fell on Ghost's shoulder and he found himself back in his body, looking up at Price, voice raw. 

With a stark realization, Ghost realizes it was him. He was the one shouting, the one gasping for breath. 

The world tilted out from under him. 

____________ 

Ghost left Price’s office a different man–a mere shell of the man who entered. With every step he took, he felt himself slipping further and further into the familiar safety of Ghost, an unpierceable facade moving through the world. 

Everything felt wrong. Every step. Every breath. He felt like he was moving underwater, every action taking twice the effort it should. 

The next few hours pass in a blur. The official order that he was being sent on leave. The ensuing argument with Price over the orders. He eventually just gave up. Leave, no leave, it didn’t fucking matter. 

None of it fucking matters. 

Johnny tries to see him before he leaves, meeting Simon on the tarmac. He tries to be there for his lieutenant, his friend. 

The red rim around Johnny’s eyes reminds Simon that he wasn’t the only one who had lost you. They had all lost you. But even that which should have been a comfort, a sort of kinship in the grief, meant nothing. Simon didn’t give a singular fuck. He turned away from Johnny mid-speech, leaving the Scotsman to sit in his grief alone as he watched Ghost disappear into the aircraft. 

____________ 

It takes every ounce of strength Ghost has to make it through the flight. To make it through the drive back home. To make it through that door. 

Keep it together, soldier. Don’t you dare fucking lose it, Simon Riley. Just a bit longer. 

His belongings crash to the floor as the door slams shut behind him. He doesn’t even bother turning on the light, instead using the faint glow of the moonlight through the curtains to guide him to the cabinet. 

Ghost pulls the bottle of bourbon from its resting spot, not even bothering with a glass as he pulls off the corked top and takes a hearty swig. 

The burn of the liquid is invigorating, filling Ghost with a quiet simmering fire. 

He takes another drink. And another. 

He walks through the flat in a daze, the amber liquid dulling his senses, sending him even deeper into the haze of his grief. 

Ghost finds himself in front of his dresser, staring at the wooden drawers. 

Taking another drink, he steels himself as he yanks open the top drawer. Rummaging beneath the pile of socks and t-shirts, Ghost digs out the small velvet box. He grips it tight in his hand, the small object groaning in protest as waves of rage and pain overtake Ghost, threatening to pull him under. Hot tears slide down his face, but he doesn’t even notice. 

With a roar he throws the velvet box across the room, the impact fracturing the drywall. Ghost’s knees go out from under him and he crashes to the floor, his heart shattering into a thousand pieces. There would be no repairing this. No amount of time could heal this type of heartbreak. 

You were dead. 

And as far as Ghost was concerned, Simon Riley died with you. 

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Second Chance Sorcerer Chapter 2

Summary: After surviving Mahito's Idle Transfiguration in the Shibuya Incident, Nanami finds himself in an unknown realm between life and death. Will he escape?

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem! reader

A/N: Chapter 2 is here! So we come to the world of the living where reader is grieving Nanami's death. Reader-centric chapter, but Nanami is brought up heavily. Originally made with my OC, to read that version, check out my AO3 account, but it's in Y/n format here.

Banner by the lovely @actuallysaiyan

Search/follow along using #secondchancesorcerer

Chapter 1 | Nanami masterlist

There’s an incessant knocking at the door and it takes all of your energy to not scream at whoever it is to go away. You felt like someone had hit you with a sledgehammer, your sleep disturbed and restless. Why was everyone so determined to give you company when all you wanted to do was be left alone?

No one understood the hollow feeling in your chest, how you woke up every night screaming, remembering Mahito’s disgusting grin of triumph as he had murdered Nanami in cold blood. How you had begged Nanami to let you take him out of Shibuya station along with Maki, the burns on his body looking so raw and painful. He had fixed you with the same look he would give you when you was hesitating to take a shot at him during hand-to-hand combat training sessions. That stern expression of disapproval, despite his own pain and exhaustion.

“Take Maki-san and leave. I’ll be fine Y/n-san. I can’t leave. Not yet.” And you had been helpless to argue against him. you never could. There was a hypnotic quality to the way Nanami instructed you, said with a finality that you could never disobey. The man had a death wish, you knew that, and you had foolishly believed securing him with a protective charm would drive away the shadow of demise that seemed to hover over him all the time. You should have knocked him unconscious and dragged his ass out with Maki. Shoko was on site. She could have healed him, and he would be here, grieving their other losses instead of…

Your heart constricted painfully, remembering how you had held onto Yuji as hard as you could, your ears bleeding from his hysterical screaming as he swore his revenge on Mahito. Nanami’s loss hung heavily in the air. Although most of the Jujutsu community was more invested in Gojo being sealed, it was Nanami’s death that affected you the most. Nanami your mentor, your dour, unwilling mission partner, your whole heart…now gone. Like he had never existed, no trace of him left. 

“Y/n-san?” The knocking continues and with a snarl, you roll off the bed, your hair a dreadful mess, not caring that you’re still in pajamas, and yank open the door only to see Ino and Yuji standing there, Yuji carrying a takeout container. Your ire washes away only to be replaced by a dull ache as you see them. “Oh. it’s you two.” You slink back to the bed and disappear under the covers.

“We haven’t seen you for two days now Y/n-san.” Ino shuts the door as Yuji sets the takeout container on the table. “You can’t just lock yourself away. We’re a team. Team Nanami, remember?” Ino gives you a wan smile which you don’t have the energy to return. Yuji settles down on a chair and says nothing.

Your heart aches for the boy, so young, a teenager, looking so weary and serious, shouldering the weight of a much older man. “I haven’t been in a mood to see anyone. Everything that happened at Shibuya…I can’t.”

Your voice trembles, threatening to spill out all the unspent grief you’re carrying. You hadn't explicitly told anyone about your feelings for Nanami, believing it was pointless. You were his apprentice after all, a title almost similar to being his student, and it was a boundary you hadn’t been willing to cross. Nanami had helped craft your abilities after all, abilities you had been terrified of using, abilities that had plagued your entire life, that you wished you hadn’t been born with; until he had shown you how to use them for a higher purpose. 

It was an astonishing experience, developing a cursed technique, needing much hands-on instruction. Literally. Nanami would constantly adjust your hands, your stance, and your combat positions, tutting at you impatiently. You had felt like you were in a ballet academy under the care of a rigorous instructor, the type that would raise their student’s arms and chin and adjust their posture using the end of a cane.

He had started you off the same way that Gojo had done for Yuji, by channeling cursed energy into one of Principal Yaga’s creepy cursed dolls. The doll had given you a black eye that day, but you secretly blamed Nanami for that; you had been watching movies as instructed, the doll in your lap when he had come down to check on you. His deep gravelly voice cutting through the room unexpectedly had caused you to yelp, grip loosening on the doll, which had wasted no time in delivering a blow to your eye. 

It was humiliating, feeling like you had failed him on this simple task but he made you nervous. He always gave off an aura of needing perfection and his short, clipped way of giving instruction made you feel inadequate. Everything had been a blur of confusion as you leaned against the sofa, covering your eye and moaning in pain, hearing rapid shuffling footsteps, before Nanami had caught hold of the doll and shoved it into a containment box.

“Let me see.” With your good eye, you saw him leaning over you to check your face. You knew you were blushing but hoped it came off as embarrassment for being punched by the doll rather than the fact that your mentor - your unbelievably attractive mentor- was peering into your face at such close proximity. 

You had slowly removed your hand, the area around the eye swollen and tender. Nanami’s expression was strange, almost like he was trying not to laugh as he delicately laid his fingers at the edges of the starting bruise. “I did warn you not to lose concentration,” he said in an even tone, although it betrayed a wisp of amusement. “Go see Ieiri-San. I’m afraid you’ll be sporting a bruise for a while, but her reverse curse technique will take away the pain so at least you won’t feel it.” 

Your good eye had glared at him reproachfully. “I was doing fine until you startled me. I didn’t even hear you come in. We should put a bell around your neck.”

You thought you saw the corners of his mouth twitch slightly, almost like he was biting back the urge to smile. “Are you under the impression that curses wear bells around their necks, Y/n-San? Because if this is all it takes to startle you…you wouldn’t last a minute on a solo mission.”

His words had brought you back to the reality of the situation, the fuzzy feeling of being near him vanishing in an instant. Always teaching survival tactics, always telling you to run, always putting himself in the line of fire. It had driven you insane, how little self-preservation he had for himself. 

“Isn’t there anything that you would like to live for?” you had asked him one morning as you ate breakfast together before catching the train home, having finished a mission the previous night. He fixed you with a scrutinizing stare, whiskey-colored eyes narrowing as though puzzled by your question. 

“Like what?”

His response left you stumped. Did the man have no aspirations, no dreams, or wishes he wanted to be fulfilled? 

“Like what?” You had parroted back to him, an incredulous look on your face. “There are so many wonderful things about life! Don’t you have a survival bucket list?”

His lip was definitely curling now. Nanami never smiled completely, but the corners of his eyes would crinkle when something amused him, and you could see the lines deepening as he regarded your question, but his tone felt like an adult indulging a child. It was maddeningly patronizing, considering he was just three years older than you, yet he assumed himself to be too mature and aged for such whimsical questions. 

“A survival bucket list?” he practically scoffed. 

“Yes,” you said trying not to lose your patience with him, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know, a list of things you’d like to do if you ever had the time.”

“Do you have one?”

“Of course I have one! Most of us have one! Something to keep us going when all we see is death and destruction on a daily basis.”

The thought seemed to intrigue him but you couldn’t shake off the feeling like you were being snubbed. Which was why you were taken aback when he asked, “What’s on your survival bucket list?”

“Oh ah…” you tried to gather your thoughts as you spoke, not expecting that he would ask you. “Take a tour of Europe. Go on an African safari. Take scuba diving lessons. Try different pastries and sweets from all over the world.” You lists some of your top activities, then frown as Nanami in a rare moment, flashes you a grin, his teeth showing for a brief second before his face returns to its usual stoic state. 

“What?” You had asked almost impatiently. “Is my bucket list funny in some way?”

The blond man shakes his head no before speaking. “It’s not funny at all Y/n-san. I think it’s nice that you have these personal goals.” He says calmly, his voice carrying an unfamiliar lilt you had never heard before. 

Your irritation died down when you realized he hadn’t answered you yet. “Do you have one or not?” 

He looked thoughtfully at you before replying. “I used to. But it’s not as great as wanting to learn how to scuba dive or trying all the sweets in the world.” His tone changed into something wistful and nostalgic and it played with your heartstrings as you waited for him to continue. “My survival bucket list, if I can call it that, has only one goal. And that is to live long enough to retire.”

Your breath had caught and you waited for him to say more, hoping he wouldn’t shut off. Nanami rarely ever spoke more than what was necessary, but you longed to see more of this side of him, the parts of him that had nothing to do with sorcery. 

“Retirement isn’t something a lot of sorcerers get to experience. Most of them die young, and the ones that do survive have so many disabilities that doing anything later in life becomes impossible. If life is favorable to me, and I have all my limbs and mental health by that age, I would love to retire and spend the rest of my days in peace.”

“What does peace look like to you?” you had asked him in a hushed voice, feeling ecstatic about finding out these little details about him. 

“A beach, in a country with a low cost of living. Perhaps I’ll live right on the sand, a book in hand, and just take in all the sunshine.” His eyes had taken on a faraway quality, the whiskey color becoming more honeyed, little flecks of gold visible in his irises as though whatever he was thinking of had lit a candle inside him, illuminating his whole being. You could only stare, unable to comprehend how beautiful, how vulnerably human, he looked in that fleeting moment before it vanished behind an impenetrable curtain of indifference. “But that future is a very slim possibility. I don’t like building castles of air.”

The warmth that had settled in your chest dissipated, and you were left with the man you had grown used to; contained, jaded, pessimistic. 

“But what if it does happen?” you couldn’t stop yourself from asking. 

He let out a sound that could have been interpreted as a disbelieving chuckle. “Then I’d better think about using something more solid than air to build my castle.”

“Y/n-san?”

You’re jolted back to reality as Yuji hands you a tissue. You hadn’t even been aware that you were crying, tears rolling down your cheeks, eyes puffy and red.

“I’m sorry guys.” You dabbed at the tears. “Got lost in thought.”

“We all miss him, Y/n-san,” Yuji says comfortingly, but his voice trembles. “He was more than a teacher to all of us.” 

“And we’re still a team despite him being gone,” Ino says assertively and presses the takeout container into your hands. “Eat. You need to.”

you open it to reveal a breakfast sandwich, and although you don’t have much of an appetite, the thoughtfulness of the boys is so sweet that you don’t feel like setting it aside for later. Taking a bite, you try to distract yourself from your own feelings.

“So they weren’t able to recover Gojo from the prison realm?” you ask, trying to get off the topic of their deceased mentor. 

Ino shakes his head no, and you are relieved to see that most of his wounds from his fight with Ogami have healed, almost imperceptible to the eyes of a non-sorcerer, although there was a scar running down the left side of his face now.

“They’re doing a recovery throughout Shibuya station, but it’s mostly to pull items belonging to the people who died. You know, to return to their families.” Ino sighs and rests against the wall of your room. “They haven’t found Nanami-san’s blade yet.”

This bit of information is unexpected, and you look at him, then at Yuji who is also listening intently. 

“I mean…it probably got lost underneath all the rubble, right? It’ll turn up eventually.” You swallow, hoping the weapon wasn’t lost to the destruction of Shibuya Station. 

“I hope so. I’d imagine Nanami-san would want me to have it.” Ino sits down on the edge of your bed. Yuji however, gives him a look of disapproval. 

“Why do you get Nanamin’s weapon? I was his student too.”

“Yeah, but I trained under him the longest. By that right, it should come to me.”

“What if he has family? Wouldn’t it go them?” Yuji countered, trying to think of a reasonable argument for why Ino couldn’t simply lay claim to the blade.

“He didn’t have any family,” you say quietly, not really invested in the conversation. Ino and Yuji continued to debate, their conversation becoming indistinct buzzing to you as you finished your sandwich. 

“He was your teacher too Y/n-san,” Ino interjects suddenly, with a touch of surprise. “Why aren’t you more interested in who his blade goes to?”

“Because I knew how much he hated using it.”

Your words carry an intensity that makes them both quiet down instantly. As powerful and wonderful as his blade was, you knew your mentor’s distaste for using it. To him, it was a means to an end, no different than using a rifle or an axe. He used it for the sake of exorcising curses, but the blade itself carried no personal meaning to him. 

“Nanamin hated his blade?” Yuji asks in a small voice. The disappointment in his eyes had you quickly backpedaling.

“Not the blade itself. I think more so, what it represented for him. A life as a sorcerer. Of facing death every day, knowing this was his duty and he couldn’t escape it.”

Silence follows your words and you wish you hadn’t spoken. You hadn’t meant to put a damper on the boys’ spirits but you couldn't keep quiet either. They were young, in awe of their late teacher who must’ve seemed like a much older man, dispensing wisdom. But knowing how small your age gap was, and how much he hated this line of work, you found yourself compelled to make sure they knew what you knew; that Nanami Kento was a hard-working man, but he never found any joy in using his now legendary weapon at all. 

And unknown to them, You had already scavenged Shibuya Station after the emergency evacuation orders were put through. You hadn’t expected to find much, but somehow, through a stroke of luck, had found his tie, the obnoxiously yellow, polka-dotted tie, peeking through the broken cement and glass, stained with blood. His blood. 

You had yanked it out quickly and stuffed it into your pocket, a little secret you had been carrying around the last few days. It now lay under your pillow; you worried people would judge you for keeping it, for not washing it but somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. At night, you’d run the tie through your fingers, feeling the material slip smoothly through, the faint scent of his cologne still on it. You knew you would never be able to wash it until the last vestiges of that scent faded away. It was the only thing that brought you comfort, that and remembering the day you found out the history of the odd color and print of the tie.

The 4 four of you had been out at the amusement park, Ino and Yuji energetically running around from one ride to the next while you and Nanami had waited in line to grab food for everyone. As you sat waiting for the boys to come back, you had gathered courage and asked him a question that had been in the back of your mind since you became his apprentice.

“Nanami-san?”

“Hmm?” He had turned his focus towards you and you hoped he wouldn’t see the rising color in your cheeks. 

“Why do you wear that tie? It just doesn’t match the rest of your outfit.” You held you breath hoping the question wasn’t too personal. But the tie somehow paradoxically brought his outfit together and also threw it out of style. 

His expression had changed almost imperceptibly. If you hadn’t spent as much time as you did with him, you might not have noticed it. He rested his elbows on the picnic table, as though conflicted to admit what was going through his mind. Then with a sigh, he said, “It’s to remember an old friend.”

“An old friend?”

“A late friend, to be precise.”

Your heart tightened in your chest. A late friend? He had lost someone close to him? 

“It’s a funny story.” Nanami paused as though considering if he should tell you more, then continued. “My favorite show growing up as a child was The Flintstones.” 

You stared at him, but you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped you which you suppressed immediately. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to say something like that.”

“Well, it was.” Nanami’s lips had twitched. “And my friend knew this. As a joke, he got me a tie that matched Fred Flintstone’s outfit.” Another pause, another sigh, as though the next part was difficult for him to say. “I never wore it until after his death. Now I always do, in remembrance.”

“I’m so sorry,” you had said in a low voice. “I didn’t mean to bring up such a sad memory for you.”

Nanami shook his head and looked away towards the Ferris wheel, where the boys had disappeared off to. “It was a while ago. I try not to dwell on it for too long.”

“Thank you for telling me,” you’d murmured. His face had softened as he looked at you, the rest of the world blurring from your vision until all that remained in focus was him, the sharp eyes, the high cheekbones, the straight nose, and the chiseled jawline. Barely 30, yet looking like even a few years of sleep wouldn’t wash away the exhaustion that emanated from his bones. 

“Even if Nanami-san disliked his weapon, it’s still useful to have.” Ino and Yuji were back to debating about the blade. 

You were about to reiterate that you wouldn’t fight them over the blade when suddenly a pale sea foam green light began to glow from underneath your pillow. Both the boys stop bickering, awestruck at the sight. With a trembling hand, you move the pillow, revealing the tie, and making Ino and Yuji draw closer in curiosity. The polka dots on the blood-stained tie were glowing, emanating a warm aura accompanied by a curious scent of lingering coffee.

“What…” You watch with fascination, then look up at Yuji and Ino, who are watching the scene unfold, wide-eyed and filled with wonderment.

“Is that Nanamin’s tie?” Yuji gets closer to the bed, unable to take his eyes away.

“Yeah…I’ve been holding onto it.”

“Is it cursed? Did Nanami-san leave some residual cursed energy when he…?” Ino eyes the tie warily but also speaks in a hushed tone of disbelief. 

You shake your head, the aura not feeling sinister to you. Rather, it felt familiar, like you had experienced it before, in those brief moments when Nanami’s eyes would crinkle from amusement…

You gasp and scramble off the bed as the dots begin to lift off the tie, a vignette of sea foam green surrounding each one. They float ethereally in the air, then, one by one start floating out of your room. 

“Wait!” Not caring that you’re in pajamas or that you’d been in bed for nearly two days, you chase after the dots, bolting out of the room barefoot, Ino and Yuji hot on your heels. People stared at you as you ran. You knew the group must look quite eccentric, the two boys fully clothed and decent looking, while you looked ratty and deranged, hair flying everywhere as you tracked the dots barefoot, not wanting to lose sight of them. 

Finally, the dots make their way into the large courtyard where Nanami would brief you about upcoming missions. They slow down and the trio halts, panting and out of breath. The light surrounding the polka dots brightens before they start arranging themselves into a fixed pattern, you, Ino, and Yuji watching perplexedly.

“Fred Flintstone”

“What?” Yuji looks bewildered. “Who’s that?”

“Isn’t that a cartoon character?” Ino asks, his generation just shy of the classic cartoons millennials had grown up on. 

You cover your mouth, trying not to jump to conclusions. “The Flintstones…”

Could it be? Was he…? You let out a strangled laugh of disbelief but yet, what else could it be?

“It’s Nanami-san!” you whisper, and as you do, the energy signature from the polka dots seems to envelop you, and you feel every small little detail you have ever memorized about him; the little marks that formed on the bridge of his nose when he took his glasses off after a mission, how he enjoyed a fresh pot of coffee in the morning, that little sigh of satisfaction he’d make after completing his daily crossword puzzle. 

Yuji and Ino look at you incredulously, but you have never been more sure of anything in your life. You look at them in the face, tears in your eyes, not from grief, but at how achingly comforting it was to be bathed in the glow of those polka dots. 

“Nanami-san is alive!” 

Animated lines and support banner by @cafekitsune

@that-goth-bisexual @buttercupbitches @jadedjane @hunnie-lily

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@pernesophe

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

matilda - m. murdock

a/n: hey guys i have back pain and i have daddy issues so i wanted to write a quick blurb about it. so. sorry if you guys cant particularly relate to this one it's for me <3 warnings: ANGST, reader cries a lot, probably cursing, lots of daddy issues, lots of being upset, mentions of fathers being drunk, matt picks up the reader but matt in my brain can lift like 250+ so, uhhhh i don't know guys just angst and daddy issues ! word count: 1.2k summary: you have daddy issues and back pain. matt does his best to help. pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader now playing: matilda - harry styles "i don't believe that time will change your mind/in other words, I know they won't hurt you anymore/as long as you can let them go"

Matt finds you on the floor of the kitchen, your knees hugged against your chest. He is so tired, bruises starting to really hurt after sitting all purple and blue on his ribs and his arms. He’s just in his boxers his hair damp from a shower.

You are just in a pair of boxers and a muscle tee. Your knuckles are white, and you are staring into space in the most literal definition. It’s four a.m. You are a twenty something year old adult, you have not slept in your mother’s bed in years.

And yet, you feel like a child.

And your back is fucking killing you.

Matt sits next to you on the kitchen floor, goosebumps shooting up his skin as his feet and palms feel the cold, rough tile floor. His hand finds your arm and gently rubs his thumb against your skin.

“What’re you doing on the floor, sweetheart?” His voice is low and thick with sleep. He is so tired, that his words aren’t nearly as poetic, sappy or flirtatious as he wants them to be (maybe not all at once, but he most certainly wished they were better than that).

You consider lying to him for a moment. Really, you do. You could tell him that the floor is just more comfortable, that you want him to fuck you right here against the tiles, that you just could not sleep, that there is nothing deeper than a busy brain that cannot calm down.

“My dad called me while you were away.” You tell him, your voice soft. Matt will be able to hear it no matter how loudly or quietly you say it. And at your confession, he tenses. He has a complicated relationship with your father, but his relationship is calm compared to the raging waters that make up how you feel about the man.

“Okay,” he starts, rubbing your arm gently. “And what did he say?”

You blink.

“Nothing. Nothing that should have made me feel like this.” You tell him, a horrible taste in your mouth. From what, you do not know. Matt doesn’t respond right away, waiting for you to tell him more. “He was drunk.” You say quietly.

“Oh.” He knows you don’t drink. He knows you have a very complicated relationship with substances. “I can understand why that might be upsetting..” he tries, and you shake your head, your face twisting into frustration, anger, and perhaps a hint of sadness.

“He’ll never change.” You whisper, too afraid to be any louder, too afraid that maybe from miles and miles away, your father will hear you. That maybe if you say it any louder, it won’t be a secret anymore, and that you’ll start crying if you say it any louder. “He’ll never ever change.” You say, and your head turns to look at him.

And you stare at the man that you love, and you stare and stare, and you think about Jack Murdock who loved his son so much that he was willing to die for him to have a better life, that he was entirely selfless when it came to the person you are lucky enough to call yours.

And you think about how your father wants nothing to do with you. He never did. Not really.

That’s when you start to cry.

It starts with a few tears rolling down your cheeks, salty and fat, as if they hold all of the memories your brain has locked away to protect you. Then, the tears come out faster, and faster, until you are choking on your own breath, racking with sobs. Matt’s arms are around you in an instant.

He pulls you close to him, and you feel bad for getting tears all over his skin. He’ll tell you it’s his fault for wearing just briefs. He pulls you into his lap, and while you cry into his neck, his hand comes down to your back and slips under your shirt, gently rubbing it up and down.

You twitch at the feeling, your back still aching as you sit with him, the pain contributing to your tears. Matt’s lips kiss your forehead, and he just holds you for a long time. Your breathing becomes short with how violently you’re sobbing.

“Hey, easy..” he says softly before he tilts your head up to look at him. “Your breathing isn’t healthy. Come on, watch me,” and he takes deep breathes in and out, expecting you to copy his attempts. When you’re finally at a point where you an breath on your own, Matt begins wiping your tears gently.

“Sorry…” You say quietly. He just shushes you softly and leans in to kiss your cheek.

“You never have to apologize for your emotions.” He promises, “I love you so much. I am so sorry he’s like that,” and now Matt is crying and he’s not sure why, but you feel awful about it, so your shaky hands come up to wipe his tears and he wants to laugh at your attempt at gentleness because he wonders how often you were shown the same kindness and his heart aches at the most realistic answer.

“Honey, you never have to worry about him again. You made it out, he can’t hurt you anymore..” He tells you, and you try to believe him. “You’ll never feel anything except safe and loved, I promise.” He says quietly, before leaning in to kiss you gently. “Is there anything else?” He senses that you are in physical pain too. Partially because he can tell by how your jaw clenches that you are tense, but even without his super senses, he just knows you aren’t feeling well.

He knows you too well.

“My back is killing me.” You confess, and he frowns. “And my head now.” Your head always hurts after crying.

“Okay,” He nods, “Hold tight,” and somehow, your fucking angel of a man picks you up off the floor and carries you to bed. He steps away only to grab you a glass of water and some Advil. You take it quietly, chugging the water before he sits on the bed next to you.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You whisper, still upset, but so so grateful. He just smiles sadly and leans in to kiss you gently. Then, he pulls away to ask,

“How about I give you a quick back massage and then we get to bed? You must be tired. I know I am.” You sigh and nod, shifting so you’re laying on your stomach.

Matt leans down and kisses your shoulder before whispering, “I meant it you know. You made it out. You’re safe. You’re loved.”

And even without being a human lie detector like him, you can tell he’s telling the truth. It makes you cry more, but Matt stays to wipe the tears away. He’ll always stay. And he’ll always tell you as much when you need the reminder.

You’re safe.

You’re loved.

These words echo in your brain as you drift off to sleep, Matt holding you close, fingers tracing patterns into your skin as you fall into a dreamless sleep, focusing on the warmth that radiates off him.

[haydensky01]

[Obey me]: MC falling in love with Diavolo

Summary: The most powerful human, overthinker as every woman is, falling in love with the most powerful demon. No spoilers.

###############################

I remember I do, the first time I appeared here falling from the sky my eyes locked onto his with unwavering intensity. He exuded overwhelming elegance, his presence so immaculate, so radiant, so majestic. While I had yet to be informed of his royal status, it was a truth I instinctively grasped without needing confirmation.

"Skin of sand, eyes of honey, hair of fire" is all that filled my thoughts as his eyes captivated my sight whole.

"Eyes of honey" It's cold. "Eyes of honey" I'm adrift. "Eyes of honey" What strange realm is this?

The room unfamiliar, the faces foreign, the attire surreal. "Eyes of honey... eyes of honey".

Limbs frozen, fists clenched "Eyes of honey... eyes of honey" where am I?

Diavolo: "Welcome to the Devildom MC. .. Oh, pardon me. Feeling a bit shocked are we?"

"Oh... it speaks..."

Diavolo: "My name is Diavolo. I am the ruler of all demons, and all here know of me."

"Eyes of honey... the tolling of bells."

Diavolo: "And someday soon I will be crowned king of the Devildom."

###############################

I read the other day in the RAD Newspaper that the hue of the next king's eyes, Diavolo's, is a unique emblem of his lineage, exceedingly rare even among their kin and the colours found in nature. Liars. Ever since I came here 3 years ago, It is all I see everywhere, all the time, on everything. I could swear my pupils have been coated with eyes of honey, for whenever I close my eyes, his gaze manifests without fail.

I am not naïve; I know what this is. He is undeniably handsome, a prince on the brink of becoming king. He possesses the charm, the intelligence, the chivalry, the wealth, the smile... and the eyes of a man with whom to fall in love. And I am a human raised on fairy tails. The equation might be complex but its result is unmistakable.

However, I am me. And me doesn't like embarrassment, rejection or a three realms worth of attention and gossip. It is the natural course of events to feel deep affection for Eyes of honey. But it is also the right course of events to relegate it to the realm of pre-sleeping fantasies, even if my mind refuses to adhere to this reasonable schedule.

I mean, I do feel the desire to seduce when I am around Lucifer or Mammon or Simeon or Solomon and others. Hell, I even flirted and went on dates. For the same reasons perhaps. Beauty, intelligence, talents, tact... or is it? I don't deny I was unwillingly comparing them to Diavolo all the time, I admit I imagined every flirt and every courtesy as if between me and Diavolo. But it still counts... doesn't it?

I blame this on Diavolo to be frank. Had he not summon me here to witness extraordinary power and charm, I wouldn't have invited him into my fantasies. Had he not call upon me on every events to be its centre. But then again, I AM the exchange student after all. Or perhaps hadn't he showered me with gifts, shown such care, and asked so kindly... He IS the ruler and I AM under his guardianship, aren't I? Had he not protected me so dearly? Again, he IS the most powerful. I don't know, I have no base but I blame him I do. I blame him for it all. And above all, his gravest sin remains... He looked at me with his eyes of honey.

The other night, at the ball, when we danced I could swear it was only the two of us dancing.

In the council room, when his hand brushed against mine, I could feel the heat from his flushed cheeks radiating across the air.

His late-night text and calls asking silly things amongst which is thrown the smallest sentences about how he wishes for me to be with him or for him to be with me. A future king cannot possibly be asking a human about muffins at 3am the eve of a world changing event, right?

The angry rumbling in his chest every time the demons and angels get too cosy with me?

Every time we found ourselves alone his voice carried the weight of a suffocated man in desperation of someone to set his lungs free. The urgency in his voice and the half calls for affection were real. I want them to be real.

Silly silly human. It's rather amusing, isn't it? For every time I tried to initiate even the most innocent flirtations or slightly intimate exchanges, he would deflect or evade. It's almost comical. And if not him, Barbatos or Lucifer would intervene... those sly serpents. Perhaps Barbatos sensed the impending embarrassment through his powers and chose to spare me the humiliation? AAAAHHHHH... This is so mortifying.

Whyyyyy? Why are you doing this to me Diavolo? Does it amuse you to toy with me this way? Spare me the pain and caste me away. For I cannot oblige myself to restrain from you. Be the bigger person, the adult in the room, the king in the kingdom and set me free.

###############################

Tears streamed down her face as she pondered all of this.

Lying on her bed in the dark at the house of lamentation, she was holding her phone above her face.

On the screen, a text conversation was visible, with the name of the correspondent adorned with a yellow heart: "Eyes of honey💛"

The text read:

___________________________________________

Eyes of honey💛: "Your fireworks display tonight was truly spectacular. I had no idea your magical prowess had grown so strong."

MC: "Haha... Thank you. The sky was indeed breathtaking."

Eyes of honey💛: "I am sure it was, but the true beauty was seeing it reflected in your eyes."

___________________________________________

In the chat box, she had typed "I love you" for the first time, acknowledging it as love rather than mere affection. It was the first time she had ever written those words, the first time, despite the consequences of it all, she had seriously considered putting an end to both their agony.

To be sent? To be deleted? Who knows?

[little-diable]

Run – Jasper Hale (smut)

This is dark, please be aware of the warnings! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Jasper is up for a chase to finally claim (y/n); basically just pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, outdoor piv, rough piv, heavy dubcon, dark!Jasper, chasing/being hunted, choking

Pairing: Jasper Hale x fem!reader (2k words)

The sound of leaves being crushed beneath her boots rang in (y/n)’s ears. She had her eyes focused on the trail, surrounded by trees, as she kept on walking. She had been desperate for a distraction — some time away from her home and the walls that kept closing in on her whenever her thoughts began to wander.

Soft rain was falling from the sky, slowly soaking through her sweater, barely managing to protect her from the cold creeping up her limbs like a snake slithering from Eden. (Y/n) tried to keep herself focused on the steps she took, careful not to trip over branches and stones as her surroundings grew darker. She wasn’t a stranger to this trail; she had walked it numerous times before, but today it felt different, darker, and more haunting than all those times she had walked it with a friend.

Her body jerked to a halt as the sound of a branch snapping apart rang in her ears. Goosebumps rose on her skin, just like the hairs at the nape of her neck. She could instantly tell she wasn’t alone. Even though her mind told her that it had probably just been a deer, her gut told her something different. 

“Hello?” (Y/n)’s soft voice echoed through the dark forest, carried by the rain that now fell heavier, as if Mother Nature was warning her, telling her child to return home before she could lose her shot at this life. A shaky exhale left (y/n) as she slowly turned back around, knowing that it was time to leave this forest for good. But she didn’t get far, once again forced to a halt as her eyes found a pair of golden ones. “Jasper?”

The man stared at her; he was standing a few feet away from her, studying (y/n) with a smirk glued to his pale lips. His smirk had something dangerous about him — something that made her heart beat faster, telling her to prepare for whatever was about to come upon her. 

“Jasper? Are you alright?” Her voice wavered as her eyes stayed glued to Jasper’s features. She had always been interested in him — the one who had always managed to draw her closer without many words shared between them, the one who had always piqued her interest as if her body and soul knew that he’d do her good. At least until this very moment. 

“Run.” The second the words had left Jasper, (y/n)’s body forced her to run, stumbling down the trail as she ran as fast as her legs managed to carry her. Tears welled up in her eyes as fear began to nibble on her soul, whispering to her that her end was near, telling her that whatever Jasper was about to do to her would leave her trembling and panting. 

“You’re fast; that’s admirable.” He was suddenly standing in front of her, catching (y/n)’s frame as she collided with his frame. She was shaking like a leaf in his grasp, staring up at the man who still wore that sinister smirk paired with the look that told her she wouldn’t manage to escape him. 

“What do you want from me?” One tear managed to drip from her eye — a tear he caught with his thumb, wiping away the salty drop. Jasper forced her to move with him, allowing him to press her against an old tree. She was trapped between Jasper’s front and the tree, telling her that there was no escaping, forced to follow his every command.

“You’ve always been a frightened little thing, haven’t you, darlin’?” Jasper’s voice dripped with something she couldn’t pinpoint, drawing another shaky exhale from her parted lips. “I always felt your eyes on me, wondering what you were thinking about. Tell me, darlin’, were you scared of me?”

(Y/n) could only shake her head, unable to reply with words. It was true – she hadn’t feared him back then, drawn closer by her curiosity and the crush on him she had always fostered. Jasper’s chuckles forced her to flinch, staring up at him as he dipped his head down, his lips almost ghosting over hers. 

“And now? Are you scared?” It took her a second to react. Even though her mind told her to speak up and tell Jasper that she wasn’t scared, her body whispered to her to close the gap between them. There was no use in running; she could only win if she managed to distract him. 

She shifted her weight onto her toes to close the gap, letting her lips press against his cold ones, a shared kiss she had always dreamt of as a teenager — wondering how it must feel to be kissed by the mysterious guy. Jasper instantly reacted to the touch, pushing her against the tree once again while cupping her cheek with his right hand, while the other found her waist.

He forced her lips apart, letting his tongue meet hers in a possessive manner – she was his at that very moment, the one to follow his every command, the one to chase, the one to hunt, the one to own. The soft moan clawing through (y/n) left Jasper chuckling in glee, parting from her to give her a few moments to catch her breath while he stared down at her. 

“How about a deal?” Jasper murmured his words, while (y/n) was heavily panting, struggling to wrap her head around the past moments. She stared up at him with confusion tugging on her features, waiting for him to keep on speaking to explain to her what he wanted to do to her. “I’ll give you another shot at running, but if I catch you, I’ll get to fuck you out here.” 

“What?” Her words were followed by a few chuckles, not believing the words he had just murmured. But the hand finding her throat, pinning her head against the old tree, cut off any sounds from leaving her, forcing her to quiet down. 

“I’m not in the mood for jokes, darlin’. Do we have a deal?” (Y/n) was all too aware that he hadn’t told her about what would happen should she manage to escape, but deep down she was well aware that she couldn’t outrun him – not after the chase that had happened only minutes ago. 

The second she slowly nodded, Jasper gave her a push, letting go of her throat. Her body was aching as (y/n) began running, not daring to look back to try and get as much distance between her and Jasper. Her heart was pounding, and her lungs were begging for some air, but she couldn’t give in and was solemnly focused on running. Whatever was happening left her torn between fear and excitement; she was not used to seeing Jasper like this. 

He seemed like a predator, as if he had done this chasing thing before, knowing exactly how it would play out. (Y/n) could only hope that he hadn’t done this with other women, not liking the thought of Jasper claiming other women. While her thoughts began to wander, the thick trees blurred by, past her running self that would give in way too soon, unable to fight against her exhaustion. 

But before (y/n) could even think about slowing down, she was ripped to the ground, her eyes forced to meet his darkening ones. Jasper was hovering over her, straddling her aching body to keep her trapped once again. 

“I won.” Those were the last words Jasper spoke before pulling her back onto her feet. Everything moved too fast; one second she was pressed against his front, and the next he had her back pressed against another tree. His tongue fought its way back into her mouth, not giving (y/n) a chance to protest as he undid the button of her jeans. “I can’t wait to claim your cunt; I bet you’re already needy for me, aren’t you?”

Something inside of her forced (y/n) to shake her head, momentarily overcome by fear as it began to dawn on her what would happen in the next moments. It was true, her body begged for him, wanting to feel him buried deep inside of her while he fucked her against the tree, but her mind forced her to snap out of her hazy thoughts. This wasn’t right. It shouldn’t be like this. But fuck, she wanted him — every part of him. 

“No? You aren’t? So my fingers won’t be coated in your arousal when I touch you?” He pushed his hand into her panties, groaning at the feeling of her arousal sticking to her folds. She had been dripping for him since their first kiss, overcome by her needs — the deep need to be claimed by Jasper in the most primal way imaginable. “You liar.”

She choked on her gasps as he pushed two fingers into her tightness, while his cold lips found her pulsepoint. (Y/n) heard him chuckling, a sound that sounded all too far away as she was sucked into a trance, solemnly focused on his touch. His cold thumb found her pulsing bundle, circling it with quick movements to leave her shuddering. 

“I should punish you for lying to me, but for tonight, I’ll let it pass. I’ve been dreaming of your tight cunt for too long.” And then everything began to spin, one second he had his fingers buried inside of her, and the next he had pulled away to force (y/n) to step out of her jeans. Within seconds, he had picked her up, only to force his cock into her tightness.

Both moaned in unison at the unfamiliar sensation, bodies being united for the first time, finally giving in to their longing. Jasper fucked her against the tree as if it was their only shot, the only moment they’d get together, a man on a mission, while (y/n) lost all grasp on reality. Tears dripped from her eyes, running down her cheeks as if every fear was leaving her body, slowly allowing her to relax. Whatever power Jasper held over her, it guided her like an invisible force, forgetting every darkening sensation.

“You’re even tighter than I thought; you’re perfect for me.” She gasped against his lips, tugging on her blonde curls to try and stop herself from giving in too fast. Jasper fucked her rougher than she had ever been fucked before; he didn’t care about bruising her or the air she needed to breathe, letting his hand rest on her throat all too carelessly. 

(Y/n) should have cared; she should have pushed him away, should have tried to leave him, but her body wasn’t ready to part with him. Every fiber of her body was aching for him, needing to be as close to him as possible — the man who had owned her heart for years, the one she’d think of in desperate moments. 

Today she didn’t care about her dignity; today she didn’t care about being treated right; she was only focused on her arising high. Her orgasm would claw through her way too quickly, urged closer by her shaking fingers, finding her clit, rubbing it fast enough to give herself the needed push.

Jasper watched her come undone with a smirk, grinning at (y/n) while he kept burying his cock inside of her. She stared up at him as if he was the devil, forcing her to realise that she was his from today on, a deal she couldn’t pull away from. He came with a groan, letting his forehead press against hers while their bodies stayed connected. 

“Don’t wander through this part of the forest if you don’t want to be chased; remember that, darlin’.”

[thecreelhouse]

pray, but heaven won’t let you back

Paring: vampire!Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Summary: Since the night Steve lost control, he’s been pushing away, afraid to hurt you again. You’ll do anything to convince him you still trust him, even giving into the bloodlust he’s tried to avoid. || fic inspired by this post.

WC: 3k

CW/Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, language, vampire nonsense/lore, blood play & blood sucking/feeding (nothing gory but still be cautious if you’re squeamish), mutual masturbation, dirty talk, lots of fluff and aftercare at the end

this is a modern vampire AU! can (kinda) be read as a standalone, but it’s a follow up to love’s the death of peace of mind and the bitter and the sweet.

A/N: i will never get sick of vampire!steve, so here’s another lil fic based off this post i saw earlier lmao. song title & lyrics are from worship - ari abdul. enjoy babes <3

pretty when you say my name like that / feel your lips trace down my neck / darlin', don't say nothin', just breathe pretty when you're looking up like that / pray but Heaven won't let you back / good on your knees

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

It took one close call to push both you and Steve to question if you were right for one another. One slip up, where his lust for your blood called to him louder than usual; louder than your moans he earned through a skilled tongue you never grew tired of.

It took one close call for Steve to become rigid, self discipline at its height in your relationship.

It took one close call to set your desire in stone; you wanted Steve to turn you, wanted to join him in an eternity of a life you once believed wasn’t real. 

Blood play wasn’t foreign before that night, but it was always controlled, always with moderation and care. Now that Steve lost control, even only for a minute, he didn’t trust himself with you. He began growing distant, physically and emotionally, and it was burrowing under your skin, deeper and deeper as time carried on.

Steve still loved you, and though you could tell because of his avoidant behavior, it hurt. It was for your sake, your safety, and he made that clear; yet you were becoming lonely and agitated without his touch.

Even beyond lust, you just wanted him to hold you, and you wanted to hold him. You missed the way he’d play pretend, acting irritated when you’d kiss him one too many times on the cheek in a day. You longed for the way either of you would roll over in your sleep, searching for the other subconsciously. You felt like a stranger to him, a ghost in the walls of the home you shared with him.

Maybe you were foolish to believe this love could last; this all started with a Halloween party hookup, after all. Just another pathetic mortal that fell prey to a vampire’s charm.

You’re getting ready to go out with some friends when something breaks Steve, just enough for him to see he’s losing you, letting you slip through his fingers that once held you tightly with possession and protection.

Sitting at the vanity, the warmth of the lights lining mirror feels good on your skin. It’s not that you avoid the daylight for Steve’s sake; the lore of vampires burning up in the sunlight was nothing more than a myth. The sun does, however, irritate the fuck out of most vampires, still too bright, but bothersome in a sensory overload sort of way more than threatening. But since the night Steve lost control, and you began losing him, you rarely left bed these days.

You deserved to feel the warmth, any warmth, after receiving a cold shoulder from Steve for awhile now. You’ve lost track of the days he began to back away, but it’s far too long despite the specifics.

While you’re fixing your makeup, wrapped in a long, silky, dusty rose robe, Steve walks in; he’s surprised to find you not only up and out of bed, but all dolled up, too.

“H- hey, love.” He goes to lean against the doorframe, but miscalculates how close he is to the frame, falling into it instead. You stifle a laugh, watching his figure fumble in your peripheral vision as you dust blush along your cheeks.

“Hi.”

He holds his breath while crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for a follow up with an expectant smile; it falls flat when you continue to ignore him.  

“So… going somewhere?”

You still won’t look at him, another response multitasked as you work on your eye makeup. “Uh-huh.”

Steve’s eyes catch on the deep red, silky dress you have waiting for a night out, hung up on the door by its hanger. “Th- you’re going out in that?” He remembers gifting it to you for the holidays, joking he could never let you out of his sight if you wore it in public; he trusted you, but surely not any men around you. 

Now, you’re planning on wearing it for the first time while out with your friends, and not him. Jealousy bubbles up within him.

“Your observational skills are great, Steve.” Your response is so harsh; even you feel bad for giving the frost right back to him. 

“Thought you’d save it for one of our date nights,” He grumbles, like a child. You finally glance over at him, eyes narrowing as they meet his.

“What, do I need your permission to wear it?”

“No, don’t twist my words.”

“Steve, this is the most you’ve talked to me in weeks.” You leave the vanity to change into your dress. With a quick tug of the tie of your robe, it slinks to the floor. Your back is to him, missing the way his jaw slacks to the floor at the sight of your lingerie set: a red, lacy set that hugs your curves deliciously; another gift from him, one without reason. “What, are you jealous? I’m done moping around and waiting for your attention.”

Steve loved showering you in gifts, especially in his favorite color— how typical of a vampire to love the color red; though you tried insisting you needed nothing more but him, he couldn’t help himself from spoiling you.

A groan slips out of him as two things push to the front of his mind:

He’s painfully aroused, tenting in his tight pants, in need of relief. 

That, and the bloodlust he’s been fighting since that close call is back, full force.

One minute, you’re reaching for the dress to change into, the next, he’s shoving you against the nearest wall. You gasp as he pins your arms above your head with one large hand easily holding both of your wrists. 

“Steve—“

“Might wanna text your friends, let ‘em know you’re running late.” He rolls his hips into yours roughly, earning the first pleasing sound from you tonight; you whimper and pout as his other hand grabs you by the chin, grip hard. “Oh, princess, am I throwing your night off?”

You can’t bring yourself to answer while his hand leaves your face, wasting no time to grope your chest with a cruel touch. You arch into his grip and mewl, eyes fluttering shut as he kicks your legs apart before slotting a leg against your core. Instinctively, you grind onto his thigh, heat already sticky through the lacy fabric you wear.

“Might not make it there at all, huh?” He’s mocking you, taunting you, and you’re infuriated. You’re pissed he’s pulling this after weeks of being distant, and you’re really pissed at yourself for instantly melting under his touch. 

Pushing through the haze of desire, you glare at him. “Steve, enough.”

“Oh, c’mon, since when are you not into—“

“I said enough.”

You’re trying to steady your breaths as you hold a cold stare with him; his features falter, hands releasing you before stepping back. 

“I’m sorry,” Any and all confidence is thrown out the window as he shrinks under your vexed gaze. “I- I— I’ve just— fuck. I fucked up, alright?”

You’re nowhere near as strong as him, yet when you push him back with your hand on his chest, he stumbles back. You push him again, and again, and once more, until the backs of his legs hit the bed, throwing his balance off. He falls back onto the mattress, panting lightly as his stare is fixated on you above him.

“You can’t do this shit, Steve. You can’t touch me when you want then leave me alone like nothing matters. I told you I’m not afraid of you, I trust you.”

“Yeah, and I cracked any trust by losing control—“

“Steve, this is who you are!” You reach out, cradling his head in your hands on either side of his face. He can’t resist leaning into your touch, guilt playing up on his features. “I’ve accepted that from the start. I’ve accepted the risk since the first night together. What I didn’t accept or agree to was being treated like a total stranger by the one I love most.”

“I know. I know. I just wanted to keep you safe. All I want is for you to be safe, and happy. All I want is for you to feel loved, and I hurt you instead. I’m sorry.” He sounds so pained, nuzzling into your palm while he grabs your arm, pushing your hand against his face harder.

Aside from the last few weeks, there have never been moments where you felt shoved away, or less than Steve. And now, it’s only happening because he thought it would protect you. Just the honest admission alone shows you he meant well, even if he hurt you. It wasn’t intentional, just like the night he lost control. He knows he hurt you, but it was never intentional.

You can tell Steve is fighting the instinctual hunger for your blood; his eyes are dark with desire, but teetering on the edge of falling into that deep red shade that could only signal trouble. His grip on your arm shakes as he restrains himself from overpowering you again.

You try to keep him with you, asking softly, “Make it up to me?”

“H- how? I’ll do anything, anything you want, love.” His breaths run shallow as you straddle his lap, hands snaking around to the back of his head; you gently push his face towards your neck, but he leans back. “I— okay, anything but— honey, I can’t.”

“You want to.”

“Doesn’t m- mean I should.” Steve is so conflicted; he wants this, he needs you. You want him, you need him, too. But it’s a risk with the odds against him.

“I’m giving you the green light, Steve.” You kiss his forehead, then his cheek, leading to his lips. Before you kiss them, you murmur, “I trust you.” 

He closes the gap with a frantic kiss, one arm slinking around your hips to your back, the other exploring your body clumsily. He catches your bottom lip between his teeth, fangs scraping along the skin. You yelp, and Steve stops.

“Love, we— this is—“ His gaze sinks deeper into that shade of red you once knew as a signal for danger, but you trust him. You know him. You know he’d never take it too far, not to a level where you couldn’t handle it. “You’re not— I’m not ready to turn you yet—“

“I didn’t expect that. I wouldn’t complain, but I promise that’s not what I’m asking for right now.” You roll your hips onto his bulge, strained under the tight fabric of his pants still. “I’m just asking you to trust me. Trust me, to trust you.”

Steve searches your gaze for any doubt, any signs of faltering or second guessing; there’s only certainty and adoration. You nod softly, encouraging him once more.

In a flash, you’re thrown to the pillows at the top of the bed, landing on them with a surprised laugh. Steve crawls above you, with a warm smile of his own, despite the red in his gaze. 

“You’ll stop me if—“

“Yes, yeah, just—“

He cuts you off with a rough kiss, fangs poking at your lips before he kisses along your jawline, trailing to your neck. When he reaches the crook of your neck, he sucks softly, earning airy moans from you while you grab him by his shirt. He laughs breathily into your skin, tickling you.

“Starting to think you like this more than I do,” He teases after pulling off your neck, spit with a hint of red dripping from the corner of his mouth. You nod with a dazed giggle, a sound he’s missed so, so dearly since pushing away. “I’m so sorry, love.” He ducks into your neck again, murmuring in between kisses, “You’re my everything.”

Stealing the spotlight from your answer, he tests the waters by sinking his fangs into your neck, ever so slightly. You gasp, arching up into him.

“Sensitive little thing,” He teases, kitten licking at the few drops of blood on your skin. He delves back in, sinking his fangs a little deeper. A sharp, pained gasp leaves your lips, and it’s almost enough to make him stop, but it dissolves into a satisfied moan. “What’d you think was gonna happen tonight? You’d find someone else?”

Here comes the possessive attitude you always crave. 

“N- no, don’t want anyone else but you.”

He’s lapping at the blood now, sucking intermittently as it flows out. He’s in such a heady daze, beginning to whimper into your skin.

“S’what I thought, princess.” He sucks stronger this time, groaning into you as he feeds. “Fuck, y’taste so goddamn good, love.”

You’re reaching the dizzy, intoxicating thrill achieved only when Steve takes you like this. The only sensation that has ever come close is when he chokes you, plays with your air and blood flows, but it’s never the same as when he feeds off your blood.

Giggly and growing lightheaded, the pain has become full pleasure to you at this point. “You ever cum from sucking blood?” The question is silly, to you, but not to Steve. He lets out a guttural moan, mouth still on your skin. The teamwork of his fangs in your neck, his lips sucking blood out, and his tongue soothing over the wounds make you whine and writhe underneath him. 

“Every time y’let me drink yours— f- fuck—“

You didn’t even notice his pants were finally down, halfway, at least; he’s fisting his cock, precum spilling onto you from his rosy, swollen tip while he continues to work at your neck. The noises he makes are pornographic at this point. You reach around to hold him, hand to the back of his head, cradling him close.

“Touch yourself, love.”

Obeying, your other hand slides down between the two of you, fingers finally meeting your clit. You lazily rub in circles, eyes fluttering shut with a blissed out smile. “Steve…”

“This turns you on just as much as it does for me, huh?” You always gonna be fucked out every time I drink from you?”

You nod, head in the clouds; the two of your hands continue to bump against one another every so often, setting off little grunts and whimpers. “Uh-huh…”

“Imagine h- how wrecked you’ll be when I…” His hips stutter as he continues jerking off. “… when I turn you. Might like sucking blood more than y’like sucking my cock.”

You gasp at his words, nodding wildly as he pulls back, looking down at you with devotion and desire.

“You doin’ okay, love?” Steve asks, shuddering, close to his high. “Can I- I- m’so close…”

You hum with a dopey smile, “Here,” is all you can manage to say as you pull your bra down, exposing your chest. Steve only lasts a second longer before he finally reaches his high, spilling onto your tits as he moans lowly, echoing against the walls. The sight of him coming undone above you, the feeling of his spend against your skin, the intoxication of losing blood, it’s all more than enough to follow him with your own climax. 

Moaning for only a moment, Steve pushes forward, crashing his lips into yours, melding together with the metallic taste of your blood on your tongue. When he pulls back, you’re left panting sleepily, fucked out despite only getting off from your own touch and his fangs in your neck.

“Love, you know it’ll be hard to turn you knowing I’d have to give this up, right?” You reach up to him, gently touching his face. He takes your hand in his, kissing the back of your knuckles softly.

“S’okay, we can wait a lil’ longer.” You watch the shade of red in his eyes settle into the calm, muted red they usually are. Before you can praise him for being successful in holding himself under control, he kisses you quickly.

“Stay here, gonna get some stuff to clean up,” He does exactly that, returning with towels to clean off with and a first aid kit. He hands over a water bottle to you, careful not to make you spill it as he runs his tongue softly along the wounds, healing them with ease as he’s done plenty of times before. The first aid kit is kind of useless by now, but he still properly cleans around the newly healed wounds.

When Steve finishes, he gently lifts your head up toward his, searching for any signs of distress. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sleepy.”

He nods, “No tingling or weird feelings like last time, right?”

“Right,” You smile, curling up next to him with a content sigh. “Can we take a bubble bath?”

“You’re half asleep,” Shaking his head, he chuckles, “I don’t want you to drown.”

“Says the guy who just stabbed my neck with his teeth.”

“Yeah, you’re fine. The sass is back.” Then he remembers, you had plans. “Hey, did you get to tell your friends you weren’t coming? Sorry for stealing your night, love.”

“I didn’t have plans, just was hoping that’d get your attention finally,” You snuggle even closer, resting your head on his chest. Meanwhile, he scoffs out a laugh as he finds out you tricked him. He couldn’t even be mad, though, because it worked. Breaking his thoughts, you mutter, “You did it, y’know.”

Steve’s brows furrow, “What’d I do?” He’s lost, assuming you’re babbling sleepily.

“Your eyes changed back. You didn’t lose control.” You’re falling into slumber fast. “I meant it when I said I trust you, Steve.”

He kisses the top of your head, arms holding you close. “I trust you, love. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

You’re down for the count, only able to murmur back, “Love you, Steve.” He watches as your breaths fall low and steady, finding safety and comfort while the two of you are back where you belong— in each other’s arms.

Steve’s nowhere near ready to turn you, but when the time comes, he’s certain it’s part of both of your futures, intertwined into one. He knows now the two of you are meant to spend eternity together.

Until then, he’ll cherish this complicated love between human and vampire; he’ll cherish you as you are now, before that becomes a mere memory once he brings you over to his side of life.

Eyes growing heavy, Steve whispers to you, now fast asleep, “I love you, too. ‘Til the end of time.”

[katiesbowlcut]

sam carpenter x hurt!reader

summary: this is set right after tara and chad are attacked, you and sam having rushed to their aid to alert them that you had all walked into a trap. the main focus for this though is centred around when they run backstage and enter that little shortcut tunnel 😁

format: blurb? hcs? idrk tbh 😭

warning: mentions of stabbing, blood,

not proof read! lmk if i missed any warnings!

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚ ✧ ‧

the only way i can see this happening is if she’s distracted 🤷‍♀️ we all know how protective sam can be so there is no way she would leave your side long enough to be injured unless she had a pretty good reason to not be watching over you

there’s only one thing that could distract her from you, and that’s tara. the only other person she loves as deeply as she loves you

she had rushed to get you so fast that before she could even check if you were okay you had both already made your way to where tara and chad were, her focus then shifting to her younger sister to ensure she wouldn’t get hurt again

you have no idea how much sam regrets running behind tara and leaving you to be the last in line, but right now there was nothing she could do about it

imagine how worried sam is because she’s running ahead of you and can’t see you 😕 she’s for sure shouting back at you to make sure you’re okay

“come on you gotta keep up!!” “baby you good!?” things like that

and even though you tried your best to keep up, it still wasn’t enough

as you enter the tunnel you trip slightly, giving ghostface enough time to catch up to you. they grab you by the collar of your shirt from behind, dragging you backwards as they simultaneously shove their blade into your lower back.

the sound of your scream echoing throughout the narrow tunnel makes sam’s blood run cold

ghostface drops you to the floor, giving you enough time to crawl just about far enough to dodge the camera that chad hurls in your direction

chad does manage to pull you up in time for you to both escape the tight space before your attacker becomes stable again (my man coming in clutch 💪)

you practically fall into sam’s arms. just picturing her worried puppy dog expression is making me tear up ngl

she so wishes she had enough time to whisk you away to safety, there’s nothing she wants more than to just take you away from the mess she caused.

(^^ik she didn’t cause it but she thinks she did ☹️)

as ghostface once again catches up to you all, chad knocks the popcorn dispenser off the side, knocking your pursuer down once again. sam gently moves you to lean against a nearby wall, praying to god you can hold yourself up.

you can’t 😝

as you slide down the wall sam crouches down in front of you, taking your face into her hands as tears spill from her perturbed eyes. a streak of deep red smeared blood is left behind on the wall, following your decent to the floor.

sam is so scared :(

upon noticing that chad and tara need help, she presses a soft kiss to your sweat glazed forehead. she whispers, “i’ll come back for you, just stay awake. i love you.” and at that she’s gone, moving to help hold down your foe to give chad the opportunity to hopefully put them down for good.

however, your efforts to stay awake are to no avail; mumbling a barely audible “i love you” before your whole world goes black.

a/n: it’s 5am so i’ll write pt2 and post it tomorrow 😭🙏

[barbiewritesstuff]

Glimpses: True Love's Embrace and True Love's Caress

Hear me wax lyrics about you, Astarion and rings for a bit.

This is part of a bigger collection of drabbles showing glimpses of how you and Astarion fall on love. (They will not be in order lol also title is in progress)

No proofreading, we die like men

Pic found on pinterest

He doesn't realise it at first but he has to admit he hasn't taken a single hit since the start of the battle, or rather, he has but it doesn't seem to hurt him much if at all. He doesn't question his good luck, he's due some after all the bad shit that's been thrown his way for nigh on two centuries, especially since the battle is going spectacularly wrong. They've had to revivify Karlach and Gale twice already and you guzzle potions like your life depends on it -- and it does.

Astarion watches you unscrew the cap on one right now, you're crouched behind a trunk in a shady alleyway where the only thing worse than the visibility is the smell. He watches you take a swig, a couple of drops of it trailing down from your chin to your throat and then down your armour, a flimsy thing made more for show than for protection, it's low cut and gives him a lovely view of your breasts, which, he suddenly thinks, he should stop staring at.

Lost in thoughts of such depravity that he'd never admit to them, he doesn't notice the enemy sneak up but he does feel him grab his shoulder and plunge a dagger straight between his ribs. Then, he feels him pull it out and ... nothing. Just a dull ache, and all consuming fury that makes short work of the other man, but nothing else. No death. No blood.

He starts to say how strange he finds what happened to be. There's luck and then there's this... but he doesn't get far in his sentence when he spots you, rasping for breath, blood bubbling out of a stabwound in your chest. There's no one nearby, and he knows no one came close to you, but here you are, on deaths door, trying to stretch your arm to reach the potion you were holding before he got attacked.

He hands it to you in a hurry, half already spilled on the floor, and just as he lifts it to your lips, he notices your wound sits right where his own should have been. Then, he notices the ring hugging your right ringfinger, snug and shiny against your pale digit.

He looks at his own hand, where the matching rings sits. Horror washes over him like a cold shower when he realises what has happened. This is no mistake either, not when he watched you loot it from their owners' dead bodies, read their diaries and heard Gale drone on about the encredibly powerful magic that had been cast upon the rings. You knew what would happen if you wore it. There was, of course, the possibility that you'd worn the wrong one. That he had been meant to wear yours all along, but Astarion doubted it.

No, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that you meant to take those hits. That you wanted to protect him.

"Hold on, dear," he whispers, tears threatening to spill as he watches your cheeks lose colours, and your skin turn cold, your breath getting more laboured by the second, "We'll get you back to camp.

[endless-summer-soldier]

dr. feelgood - chapter twelve

pairing: Surgeon!Bucky x SurgicalIntern!Reader

summary: Y/N has a one night stand with a handsome stranger the night before starting her new job as a surgical intern. Little does she know, the handsome stranger also happens to be her new boss

warnings: must be 18+, drinking, some surgery descriptions, smut, self-pleasure, praise kink, oral sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, PTSD, choking, angst

word count: 3.7k

a/n: ask and you shall receive! I started doing my final proofing and got tired and decided to post so apologies for any typos, I'll fix them later lol. please enjoy this one and thanks for your patience!

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It took exactly three seconds for Bucky to come to his senses. The gentle click of the door shutting brought him back to reality and he realized he couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t pretend like his heart didn't skip a beat every time she came into the room. That every time she smiled at him, he completely lost his focus. She was all he thought about, day in and day out, even when he was avoiding her. He wanted a future with her. In fact, she was the first woman he'd ever met that he could see a future with. And he had messed it all up. 

What hit him suddenly, as she walked out of the house, was that if he let her go, he was just bringing on more trauma. He would never emotionally recover from losing her. He would be stuck with his PTSD night terrors and would always live life wondering what if things were different. One of the lessons he learned in combat is that life is short and precious, and it shouldn’t be wasted.

“I’m such an idiot,” he mumbled to himself. He flew out the front door, hoping he could still catch her before she took off. It was a monsoon outside, with water pouring down in buckets. He caught the headlights of her car flooding the driveway and he darted toward the vehicle without another thought. He didn’t waste time putting shoes on, running outside in just socks. While wet socks were one of his pet peeves in life, at this moment he didn’t care.

He knocked feverishly on her window before she could put the car in reverse. She was initially startled before she rolled down the window. 

“What are you-” before she could finish her question, his hand was around her jaw and his lips were caressing hers. This was the last thing she expected, but she didn’t stop him, wondering if this was the last time she’d feel his lips on hers. He was dripping cold rainwater all over her and the seat of her car but she didn’t even care. She leaned into him, savoring the taste of his gin-coated lips.

He pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers, stealing the breath from her lips. “I’m not giving up on us,” was all he said. 

That gave her the confidence she needed. This time she took the lead, placing both hands around his jaw and pulling him closer to her, smiling in between every delicate kiss. 

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispered in between kisses and she reacted by holding him tighter and running her fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t fight for us. I just wanted to protect you.”

She pulled away and nuzzled into his neck, “I know, I know Buck. It’s okay.” Their blissful moment was interrupted by the cheerful barking of a golden retriever. Bucky turned around to find Liberty running around in circles in the pouring down rain, sloshing through the mud. 

“Well shit,” he chuckled.

“You leave the front door open?” 

“Apparently,” he turned back to Y/N and gave her one more quick peck on the lips. “I better wrangle her up, Will you stay? I’ll meet you inside and we can talk?” 

She nodded and laughed while he ran off after Liberty, sliding shoeless in the mud as he attempted to usher the dog back inside. Y/N was already half soaked from Bucky’s drippage so she easily made the decision to cut the engine and run inside. She captured Liberty’s attention as she ran to the front door and the dog darted after her. Once Liberty had followed her inside, she knelt down to give the dog some attention and to keep her inside. Bucky ran inside and shut the front door behind him, sliding ever so slightly on the hardwood floor. Y/N smiled up at him as she stood up and he returned her grin. As if on cue, Liberty shook off the moisture from her fur, completely coating Y/N and Bucky in more rain water and mud. They both started cracking up, laughing at both their disheveled states as the dog simply walked off to her dog bed. 

Bucky stepped closer to her and placed his hands on her hips. 

“You know, this look is kind of working for me…” he said, narrowing the space between them.

“Oh yeah? You into the swamp monster look?” she bantered.

“More like queen of the swamp,” he said, inching closer to envelope her lips in his. Her arms effortlessly wrapped around his neck and he pulled her in even closer, so her body was flush against his. They were cold and wet and muddy, yet there was no place they’d rather be. Bucky couldn’t believe he almost let this amazing woman slip beneath his fingers. He was savoring everything about her now: her smell, her taste, her touch. But what surprised him the most was how at ease he finally felt. The past few weeks, he’d been so tense. He was worried about Y/N, he wasn’t sleeping, barely eating, and just getting by an hour at a time. Now it was like he could finally breathe again. He didn’t realize what he was missing until he had her back. And now he never wanted to let go.

She started to pull back for a breath, but he wouldn’t let her, verbally expressing his dismay with a hummed “uh-uh.” She smiled and he kept her close, kissing her again and then moving from her lips to her cheek to her neck.

“Bucky,” she giggled. He loved hearing that sound and it just encouraged him more. “We should wash the dog before she spreads more mud around the house.”

“I don’t care about that,” he replied.

“But it’s Steve’ house and-”

“I will deal with Steve’s house later. Right now, I’m not letting go of you.” He moved in close again, seeking the soft touch of her lips. And she had no working defense mechanisms. She sighed into his mouth, loving the feeling of being back together with the man she’d been longing for over the past few weeks. But the logical side of her won over in the end.

She pulled away and Bucky shifted his attention to her jaw, planting kisses up toward her ear. 

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal…” she offered.

“Mhm,” he replied, opting not to part from her skin.

“If we take a pause to wash up the dog, then we can pick this up later. In the shower.” Bucky froze considering his options. They’d never shared a shower together and it was something he’d always wanted to do but they’d never had the opportunity.

He let out a deep sigh into her neck, “You’re killing me doll.” She gently scratched the back of his neck and kissed his ear, signaling that their make out session was over for the time being. Bucky walked over toward Liberty and effortlessly picked her up in his strong arms. As he walked toward the bathroom he called out, “You better be helping me with this!” Y/N smiled to herself and eagerly ran after him.

It took all four hands to wrestle Liberty into the tub and that was only the first step. It was fortunate that Bucky and I were already soaking wet from the rain because Liberty showered us in bathwater as she splashed around in the tub. It took us a minute to find a rhythm, with one of us rinsing while the other shampooed. After about thirty minutes, I pulled the drain plug and we pried Liberty out of the tub, wrapping her in a towel. Once she was mostly dried off, we gave her a bone which she happily curled up with in her dog bed. 

I leaned against the kitchen counter, taking a quick moment to catch my breath, which didn’t last very long. Bucky approached with a smirk on his face and, without a word, swept me up into his arms. 

“Bucky!” I called in surprise.

“Pretty girl,” he countered, awfully pleased with himself.

“What are you doing?” I protested, as he started ascending the staircase.

“We’re getting you cleaned up.” Bucky strode into what I assumed was Steve’s bedroom, and before I could argue, he opened the door to the master bathroom and I was speechless. It was spacious to the point where it could’ve passed for a health spa. There was a giant soaking tub next to a window, with tealight candles lined up on the windowsill. Accompanying the tub was an upholstered ottoman holding a tray of bath salts, luxury oils, scrubbing brushes, and any other things you might need during a soak. In the corner was a beautifully tiled walk-in shower, complete with a rain shower head and a built in ledge that could double as a bench. Along the wall was a long countertop, with two sinks placed in front of the giant framed mirror. Before I could take in anymore, Bucky sat me on the countertop next to the sink, like I was a child and he was tending to a scrape on my knee. He walked over to the closet and pulled out two, lush looking, sage green bath towels, and hung them on the silver towel rack that was placed by the entrance of the shower. 

“This is…” I said, looking around the room with wonder.

“I know. Steve takes his self care very seriously,” Bucky joked. He turned the handle in the shower and the water started flowing through onto the beautifully laid tiles, mimicking the sound of the rainforest. 

Bucky made his way back over to me and I wondered what his next move would be. I was happy to sit back and enjoy the ride of whatever he had in mind. His face hovered in front of mine, as he placed his hands on the counter, his thumbs so nearly grazing my thighs. I studied his face, waiting for him to lean in and kiss me again, so that we could pick up where we left off. Instead, he planted a chaste kiss on my cheek and exited my personal space. His right hand found its way to my thigh and he slowly slid it all the way down my leg, until he was gripping my ankle. He extended my leg and brought my foot up towards his mouth, using his teeth to nip the top of my sock and carefully pull it off my foot. He planted a sweet kiss on my big toe and then repeated the process with my other foot. 

Then he moved to my hands, removing the rings and bracelets I had on and placing them carefully in a small bowl on the counter. His slow, calculated movements were turning me on more than I thought they would. As much as I needed to have him, I wasn’t going to rush through this. He removed my earrings, giving one of my earlobes a playful nip, before he pulled off my blouse, planting kisses from my collarbone down to my navel. He came back up to my eye level, but his fingers were already working on the button of my jeans. 

“I might need your help with this one,” he said, as he pulled down my zipper. I leaned back onto the counter and lifted my hips, allowing Bucky to pull at the waistband and slide the jeans off my legs. I sat back upright while Bucky kissed his way up my legs, taking a little extra time when he reached my inner thighs. I could see the hunger in his eyes and I knew that this teasing must be killing him, but it would all be worth it. His mouth found my bra strap and took it in his teeth as he lifted up slowly and released it so it snapped back onto my skin. His hands worked their way up my love handles and met at the clasp of my bra. 

“Ah ah ah…” I chided, shaking my head before he could continue. He gave me a confused look and I merely pulled at the hem of his shirt, “You are fairly overdressed.” He let me pull the shirt up and over his head and I tossed it across the room. He leaned back in, continuing where I stopped him but I simply shook my head again. I pulled the drawstring of his sweatpants loose and tucked my fingers into the waistband and he effortlessly wiggled out of the material, leaving him stripped down to my level, clad only in his boxer briefs.

“Happy now?” he asked, with a tilt of his head.

“Almost,” I smiled mischievously. He slowly closed his eyes and sent me a toothless smile, knowing what I was getting at. When he opened his eyes back up they locked onto mine like a wolf stalking its prey. It sent a chill down my spine and all I wanted was to feel his hands on me again. He placed two thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and easily pulled them down, stepping out of them and closer towards me. 

“You have some catching up to do,” he growled.  I smiled as he kissed me, this time with urgency. His hands were behind my back unclasping my bra with ease and it fell to the floor. He started kissing my neck as his hands ventured south and rested on my hips. It didn’t take him long to pull at my thong, and I raised my right hip up to aid him, and he happily accepted the help. 

I felt a bit of a breeze and shivered briefly, as my nipples hardened slightly due to the cool air and Bucky’s fingertips. He noticed my momentary shudder and grinned into the kiss. 

“Why don’t I warm you up a little,” he suggested, sweetly kissing my jaw before shifting his attention to my pert nipples. He took each one carefully into his mouth, giving them just enough attention and then continued on his journey, eventually kneeling on the ground. I hadn’t realized that’s what he meant, but I wasn’t going to complain. He gently pulled on my legs as a signal for me to come closer which I did. He ran his tongue up my sopping wet pussy to my clit and ran circles around the sensitive bud. My head fell back instinctively, missing the feel of his touch. He dove right into my folds, exploring with his tongue and forcing labored breaths out of me. 

“Bucky…” I called, running my fingers through his hair in an attempt to pull him back towards me. He took that as encouragement and increased his efforts, shooting his eyes up to watch my reaction. I let out a soft moan and pulled on his hair harder, which he seemed to enjoy. 

“Bucky, stop,” I softly commanded. He immediately stopped and pulled back, looking up to see if everything was okay. “I can’t wait anymore. I need you inside of me.”

He acted quickly, standing and collecting me off the counter with ease, and carrying me into the immaculate shower. The minute we stepped under the water, his lips were back on mine and I tightened my grip on his neck, pulling him as close to me as possible. My legs were wrapped around his torso and his strong hands were cradling my lower back. 

“God, I missed you so much,” he whispered into my neck. 

“Show me,” I challenged, feeling bolder. Bucky reacted immediately, pressing me into the cold tiles of the shower. I let out an exhale and he took that as encouragement. He expertly shifted my position so that he had a better angle to my entrance, all while keeping me secure. And then he thrusted into me and I almost came on the spot. A moan escaped my lips and Bucky picked up his pace, grunting into my neck. 

“Fuck baby,” I let out, knowing I wouldn’t last much longer. 

“This one might be quick, but I’ll make it up to you.”

“I don’t care, you feel so good inside of me.” He gave me a quick love bite on my shoulder and then gently returned me to the ground.

“Turn around,” he commanded, caressing my hips with his fingertips. I placed my hands on the shower tiles and bent forward as he pulled my hips toward him.

“You know me too well,” I smiled.

“Of course I know how my girl likes it.” He didn’t give me a warning when he entered me and I let out a squeal of pleasure. He gave my ass a smack before clutching my hips tighter and increasing his rhythm.

“You’re so wet for me, pretty girl. I’ve missed your tight little cunt.” He thrust in deeply and paused, wrapping his hand around my front to play with my clit. 

“Ohhhhh…” He was pushing my every button and I was nearing my climax.

“Those noises are driving me wild…” He picked up his pace again and I let out another moan. “Now be a good girl and cum for me.” That was all it took to trigger my orgasm. My back arched and I leaned further into the tile to stabilize myself while Bucky’s hands kept his strong hold on me. It all seemed to happen so quickly, as I panted and tried to bring myself back down to earth. 

“Wow…” I breathed through my satisfied smile. 

“I second that.” He slowly retracted and took my hand. “C’mere.” He pulled me towards him and wrapped his arms around my waist. I locked my arms around his neck and smiled up at him as he planted a few sweet kisses on my lips. 

“That was amazing,” he said, connecting his forehead to mine.

“I know, we’re pretty good at that.”

“And we keep getting better.”

“You think it’s because we’re in love now?” I suggested.

“It has to be that,” he said, kissing my nose. “Also, I didn’t pull out. I’m sorry. I got caught up in the moment.”

“It’s okay, I’m on the pill so we should be fine.”

“I won’t do that without checking with you ever again.” 

I placed a hand on his cheek and said, “I said it’s fine.”

“I know, but I still should’ve asked your permission.”

“Well, I appreciate that. Now can we get clean and spend the rest of the night cuddling?”

“We can do whatever you would like my dear.”

Once we finished up in the shower and dried off, Bucky lent me the T-shirt he packed and he put on a pair of sweatpants. We curled up together on the couch and turned on a rerun of Bar Rescue. 

I rested my head on his shoulder and he put his arm around me and kissed my temple.

“How are you feeling, pretty girl?”

I tilted my head so that I was looking at him, “Happy.”

“That’s what I love to hear.”

“All because of you,” I smiled.

“Ah, can I bring something up at the risk of ruining the moment.”

“I don’t think anything could ruin this night for me. Unless you break up with me.”

“Well I’m never doing that. But I do think we should talk about that night.” 

“Oh. Okay,” I shifted so that I was facing him, giving him my undivided attention. He collected my hands and held them tight in his.

“I know you said you pulled me out of the nightmare, but I don’t want to put you in that position again. It might not work next time. So I’m going to start up therapy again. It did help me a lot before and I only stopped going when I thought I had things under control. But I think it might be more of a lifelong thing.”

I nodded, “I think that’ll be really good for you.”

“It’s really hard for me to ask for help, but I do think it’ll make things better.”

“And I’m happy to go slow as we figure everything out. I want to make sure you feel comfortable with things.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to go slow. I’ve finally got you where I want you. But I can’t let that happen again.”

“We’ll ease back in. No sleepovers for a few weeks.”

“Well I’m not agreeing to that,” he smirked.

“What!?”

“I want to fall asleep next to you every night.”

“Yeah but-” I started to protest.

“I think we can start with staying at your house. It’s not my space and I don’t think I sleep as deeply because it's a different environment than I’m used to. Plus I’ve stayed over your place a handful of times and never had any issues.”

“Are you sure?’

“Positive,” he stated.

“Okay, we can start there and see how it goes.”

“I still want to have a back-up plan for you though. Maybe stash an air horn or something by the bed just in case. I’ll come up with something.”

I chuckled lightly, “I don’t think an air horn is going to work.”

“Why not?”

“Do you want to know what I did the first time?” 

“I am curious actually.” 

“First, I placed my hand on your cheek,” I announced as I demonstrated. “Then I slowly pulled you in closer,” He moved with my hand until his forehead was pressed against mine. “And then I did this,” I gently brushed my lips against his and he sat there stunned.

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” he commented with a small smile on his face.

“I thought if I fought back you would only push harder but that affection might confuse you.”

“And it worked.”

“It didn’t really confuse you, though. It sort of…calmed you. You curled into me and fell back asleep.”

 Bucky looked a little stunned as he considered this, “Smart. That was very quick thinking.”

“That’s why I’m in trauma.”

“I’ll give you that. But I still want some sort of back up plan in place.”

“Well I will let you think on that and come up with a plan because you probably know better than I do on this matter.”

“I can do that. So until we have a back up plan, no more sleepovers.”

“That’s fair.”

“Tonight I’ll let you sleep in Steve’s room with Liberty and I’ll take the guest bedroom.”

She wanted to protest, badly, because she couldn’t imagine leaving his vicinity. But she chose to respect his wishes. For now, she nuzzled into Bucky’s shoulder and entangled her legs with his, enjoying every second of being in his presence.

[marlowethebard]

Little Gremlin

____________

Tags:Astarion / f!Tav, hurt, injury, mild gore, comfort, end-game spoiler-ish. SFW, Fluff

Summary: Another introspection into Astarion's little glass noggin.

Words: 2.4k

Also available on Ao3

The city outside had finally begun to settle. The city Watch and the Fists, those who had not been tadpoled during the infiltration of the Absolute, were slowly putting a stop to the looting and helping the displaced and injured to aide.

The Netherbrain had fallen and taken the Crown of Karsus with it into the Chionthar. Astarion had seen Wyll and Karlach vanish to Avernus, and his phantom heart ached for his friend. Karlach’s battle was not over, not yet. Even so, the world felt mostly right. Everyone in the world that he cared about was more or less okay. Until the sun found him.

Those tiny prickles of heat in the veins of his face and hands were so small, so gentle at first, that he almost dismissed the sensation. He’d gotten so used to very nearly being alive again that random aches and pains had become commonplace. He didn’t think much of it until the burning began to rip across any exposed centimeter of flesh, searing his nerve endings and striking terror into his undead heart.

He ran then. He could hear her, his Tav, screaming for him. He knew Gale and Halsin were holding her back to keep both of them safe, comforting her, telling her to let him go, that he’d be all right. He even recognized the flare of jealousy that he couldn’t be the one to soothe her, that they had their hands on her when he couldn’t, somewhere deep beneath the pain of his burning flesh. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Panic had gripped him and all he could do was run. To try to find shelter. To protect her from what he was and what he had become once again.

The warehouse cellar he found was mercifully dark and quiet, in spite of the chaos still raging in the city streets. They had won, but so much was now lost to him. The sun had turned on him like a knife turned in a hand and took him away, back to the dark. To add insult to injury, it had taken his beauty, too. It wasn’t enough that he’d live in pain and darkness with his demons, but now he had to do it as something truly monstrous.  He found a moldering pile of disused burlap sacks for a bed and curled into a ball, cradling his burned face with his burned hands, and he wept until the oblivion of the pain took mercy on him and dragged in into unconsciousness.

When he woke, he was completely certain that it had all been a dream. The familiar scent of dank mildew and rot filled his nostrils. He lay on a pile of rags on a cold, hard floor. He ached all over. He fully expected that when he opened his eyes, he’d be naked, manacled to the wall of Godey’s dungeon in Cazador’s palace with a fresh web of lacerations across his face and hands and neck – punishment for some sleight Cazador had dreamed up. He whimpered and swore, eyes still shut tight as he pounded his fist against the floor, sending a white-hot jolt of pain spiraling up his arm. He should have known better. He should have known better than to believe any of the events of the last months could have been real. Good things, like friends and freedom and love, didn’t happen for him. Some people were made to suffer.  

When he opened his eyes at last, there was only darkness. No animated skeleton, wielding a scourge to beat him into submission. No chains. Only the scuttling of rats and the lap of water nearby. Cazador was dead. His bones and muscles knew the absence of his late master the way they knew weight and pressure. They were truths that didn’t need questioning.

The pain was just as real whether he was caged in nightmares, or awake. He held his hands up, and they felt tight, as if the skin was shrunken too small to cover the bones and sinews within.  The dismal light in that dark cellar was too weak a thing to see the true extent of the damage, but he didn’t need to see it. He knew his hands, once so clean and smooth and fine, had flared like burning magnesium. They could only be charred and cracked, with fissures of raw, bloody meat now. He hadn’t seen his face in over two centuries, and for the first time in all that time, he was glad he couldn’t see it. He didn’t want to know what horror awaited Tav when he found her again.

Tav.

Gods, could he face her like this? Would she scream? Would she vomit in revulsion at his burned and mangled face and hands if he stood before her again? He ached for her, not just for her blood, but all of her, to hold her in his arms, to hear her sing and laugh. He could go to her. She was probably at the Elfsong right now. Probably half crazed, begging the others to help her look for him. Or at least, he hoped she was. He didn’t want her suffering on his account, but he hoped that she was alive and well, that she still wanted him.

That was another new thing with Tav. She had been a seemingly endless parade of new experiences and habits, but this most recent one, hoping, was by far the most unsettling.  Hope had always been a monster; a relentless little gremlin that fed false promises and made the longings and desires brutally pummel him when he was at his lowest and darkest.  It was apprehension and anxiety and a tightness in his chest, and it walked hand in hand with bitter disappointment.

But with Tav, it was also lightness. With her and the hope she brought him, his jaw was unclenched for the first time in two centuries. He gave himself permission to hope because with Tav, the things he hoped for came to be more often than not.

He could hope once more, he thought. She was her, after all. No one else was like her. She’d trusted him and cared for him, when all good sense should have told her not to. He hoped she could continue to care for him, to trust him, to love him, even in whatever state he was in. In darkness and in light. In pain and in ecstasy. In beauty and in monstrosity. For better or worse. 

His lips felt tight when he smiled, felt like they were cracking, but he didn’t care. The thought of holding her was enough. The thought of her going mad with worry over him was enough. He even chuckled at the thought of the shiner she had probably given Gale as he tried to hold her back.

Very well, decision made.  He would find her and accept the outcome.

When he emerged from the warehouse cellar, he was surprised to find that things were better off than he had feared. He’d found a whole nest of rats, which, vile as they were, were still vital. As he drank each one, he felt the creature’s blood filling his veins, soothing those scorched delicate passages within him. In the light of the fires the Watch had lit in braziers all around the lower city, he could see his hands were not the melted and charred ruin of flesh he pictured. He couldn’t tell about his face, but it didn’t feel so stretched, either.

Astarion kept to the shadows as he picked his way around rubble and the ruined homes and shops. When at last he reached the Elfsong, he was surprised by how little damage the tavern had sustained. The damn thing was not only still standing, unscarred, but it was open for business. Roaring, too, by the look of it. He stood in the darkness of the burned-out shell of what used to be the headquarters of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette, watching the comings and goings. And then, suddenly, she was there.

Bathed in moonlight, she stood on the balcony like an ingenue taking the stage in a play.  Even at a distance, Astarion could see she was as much of a wreck as he imagined she would be, and it made his phantom heart flutter with joined delight and misery. She was still in her leather and scale mail, still covered in blood and grime. Her hair was pushed back off her face as if she’d run her hands through it so many times that gravity gave up and let it just stay that way. He couldn’t stop smiling.

Tav was scanning the street, watching the patrons as they came and went, obviously searching. For what, exactly, Astarion didn’t know, but that little hope gremlin that had taken up residence somewhere behind his ear whispered to him that she was looking for him. The clouds scudded out of the way of the full moon, dousing the sad remains of the broadsheet’s foyer in sickly yellow-gray light. She saw him. Stared at him, her mouth hanging open. People passed in the street. Time slowed. Astarion was sure that if there had been music playing, it would have faded out with all other sounds as they looked at each other.

As if a spell had broken, she bolted through the balcony doors. Astarion could hear the commotion inside their rooms, could almost track Tav’s progress as she tore through the upper floor of the tavern and the noisy bar room below. She burst through the doors at street level, tripped over some rubble still littering the street before all but launching herself into his arms. She was usually so careful of his sensitivity to touch. It warmed his cold dead heart to see her put own need for reassurance ahead of him for a change.

He thought she would bombard him with a tirade of “do you know what you dids” and “how could yous,” but it never came. Instead, she just held him, her arms and legs wrapped around him, so similar to the first night they had slept together, but so much more genuine. More real. Just more. His hands hurt where they cradled her weight against him, but it was nothing. She wanted him, without his asking, and any pain was far away, blocked by the radiance he felt with her in his arms. She leaned her forehead against his, her natural heat stinging the still tender burns there, but he wouldn’t move her. He’d die with her like that if it was what she wanted.

“Come upstairs,” she whispered at last. She slithered down his body, taking his still-wounded hand in her own without hesitation. Astarion imagined all of the eyes on him as they waded through first the pub full of strangers and then the common room full of their companions, but no one said a word. If they had been coached or were stunned into silence, he didn’t know. Whatever the case, he was glad for it. When at last they were alone in the bathroom, she pulled him into her arms again and brushed her lips against his swollen, tender ones.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” he asked, not sure he wanted the answer. Smiling, she delicately cupped his cheek in her palm, called him a beautiful idiot and told him to get undressed.

And that was the end of it. No flinching, no sad look that was too full of pity. No rallying speech about how he’d be better in no time. She just called him beautiful, like she always did, and called him an idiot. Like she always did. To her, nothing had changed. No matter what his face looked like, he was still him and she still loved him.

In the bath, with her back against his chest, she told him how after he left, she had indeed punched Gale, and she may have accidentally kicked Halsin in the worst possible place as he carried her away from the pier. Both of them were still salty about it. As Astarion gently scrubbed dried blood and dirt from her body and face, she told him how this was the first time she had stopped moving in the 24 hours since the brain had fallen. She had helped refugees and sifted through rubble to find survivors. She’d loaded dead illithids onto carts. She did anything she could to keep herself from running blindly after him into the wreckage of the burning city. Mercifully, Gale had stopped her from trying to cook for the city’s newly unhoused.

Her yawns grew more frequent as they talked. Though she insisted she still wanted him to feed from her, and then, perhaps, make love to her, Astarion could see her spirit was willing, but the flesh was growing weaker by the moment.

They were both still naked when he carried her to bed in the gray hour before dawn. She rolled onto her side to give him access to her neck and was fast asleep before he finished feeding.

Astarion woke from true sleep as the sun was setting on the following evening. Tav was still asleep, curled with her back against his chest in the same position she had been when he had drifted off himself. It wasn’t dark enough yet for him to venture out, but in truth, very little could have made him want to. He was still amazed at how her blood sang in his veins, how it had repaired most of the sun’s damage, leaving only a few faint red lines on the backs of his hands where the burns had been the worst. He’d known he loved her, possibly from the very start when he held a knife to her throat, but any doubts about it had long since evaporated.

As if she could feel him watching her, Tav stirred, muttering in her sleep. He lay beside her, head propped up on one palm, and thought to himself that this was what he wanted most. It wasn’t power, or wealth, or even to be free to walk in the sun again. If this was to be his life, for the rest of his life, it was all he could hope for.  He could live without all of the other things if it meant opening his eyes and seeing this beautiful woman, asleep next to him, drooling a little as she snored.

____________

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed this little fluffy self-indulgent introspection.

Musical Inspiration – Sight of the Sun – Fun, Miss You So Badly – Jimmy Buffett, Hallelujah – Leonard Cohen (Rufus Wainright version)

Visual Inspiration - https://www.tumblr.com/daintysclaw/746584182996844544/the-pic-lmaoo?source=share

[jm-2406]

Just a ring.

Summary - “he has asked me to marry him but I had to come here first. I need to know if you feel anything… anything at all for me.”

Pairing - Theodore Nott x reader; Male OC x reader.

Word count - 2150.

Warnings - infidelity, flashbacks in italics, grown up theo & reader.

Cursive words made their way across the document as he led the pen from left to right, every movement a study in perfection. A famous business wizard like Theodore Nott who hailed from a high class pure blood family, couldn't afford anything less than perfection. He pursed his lips as he focused on getting his signature just right, reading the already typed composition. Mergers, especially one as important as this one needed to be dealt with utmost care, and a very carefully crafted ‘brown nosing’ letter never hurt anyone.

He was feeling very pleased with his efforts when a loud noise from outside his office startled him. Throwing an angry glare towards the closed door, he cursed the person who disturbed him.

“You can't go in there Miss. He's very busy.” His secretary's voice reached his ears. “To hell with his schedule. I don't care.” The other voice responded sharply and he knew who that other person was. He mentally prepared himself for the upcoming drama, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

“I'm sorry Mr. Nott, this—this Woman refused to make an appointment. Should I escort her out?”

Theodore eyed the girl in front of him; she stared back defiantly, challenging him. He wouldn't throw her out but that didn't mean that he couldn't make her sweat. The young woman in front of him started to fidget nervously the longer Theodore kept staring at her without a word. “It's okay Riya. You're excused.” The woman heaved a sigh of relief at his words.

Theodore turned to her and said coldly. “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure? What is it, [Y/L/N]? Say your piece and spare me. I am too busy to hear your rambling right now.”

[Y/N] scoffed, wrapping her arms around herself as if she was trying to protect herself from his coldness. “Wow. So you can speak more than three words at a time and just my luck that you use them to dismiss me. ‘[Y/L/N]’, ‘my piece’... You are so intolerable Theodore.”

“Then why are you here, love?” He retorted flippantly but her next words made him stop his work.

“He knows…”

“Who knows what, [Y/N]?”

“Alex… he found your waistcoat under the bed… the one you forgot to put on because of some ‘important’ business.” She confessed, her voice shaky. She paused and then opened her mouth to continue, her voice cracking. “He didn't even ask who it belonged to. He said that it didn't matter. He blamed himself, you know…For being gone so often.”

Theodore kept staring at the papers on his desk, completely still. He didn't know what kind of response she was expecting but his mind went blank. He was about to say something when she dropped the final bomb. “He has asked me to marry him.”

Her eyes finally rose up from the floor. He could feel her willing him to look back at her; willing him to show any emotion. But the man kept staring at his desk, forcing himself to pick up the document and continue his letter.

“I haven't answered him yet.” She admitted, “I had to come here first. I had to see you, but you've been avoiding me and… I just need to know if you feel anything, anything at all for me.” She waited for him to respond, waited for any sign from him but he was as cold as ice and just as frozen as he signed his name at the end of his letter.

He continued his work robotically and took a breath only after hearing her footsteps shuffling closer to the door. “I meant what I said that night… I still do.” She whispered and then she was gone, missing the look that crossed his face.

After crying her heart out, [Y/N] kept staring at the end of the room blankly, her mind still stuck on everything that has happened in her life recently. “I am stronger than this.” She whispered to herself. Her head fell against the back of the couch, and she curled a leg up beside her, wrapping her arms around it as she glanced out the window.

It never should have happened, she knew that now, but she still couldn't bring herself to regret that it had. It had all started about six months ago, she and Alex had been having a lot of arguments around that time.

“You promised!” She raised her voice, fed up with his attitude.

“I know babe but this is urgent.” Alex said softly, trying to pacify her but it made her angrier instead.

“Fine. Go wherever you want to. Do whatever you want. But I am not going to keep changing my plans according to you every time. I am going to attend the Christmas Eve party… with or without you.”

“No. You can't do that [Y/N]. What will they say? My reputation will be thrashed.”

“Oh I can and I will. If you care about your ‘reputation’ then come to the event with me.” She asked one last time but only got a shake of head in return as Alex took his briefcase and apparated.

There at the party, [Y/N] found herself in the company of none other than Theodore Nott, one of the Slytherin guys from a year above her. She had never interacted with him outside of the classes. Though she didn't trust him, she couldn't disagree that the man was charming. A few drinks later, she found herself up against a wall in one of the vast deserted hallways, moaning and thoroughly enjoying herself with a man that most definitely was not her boyfriend. That was how it all started.

Secret correspondence and casual meetings followed. Every time she would receive one of his notes or calls, she would hesitate and every time she gave in. She couldn't stop herself; he made her feel passionate, naughty, and desirable. It was everything she never felt with Alex thus she became addicted.

Over time, their pattern seemed to change. It started with simple words after they were intimate and soon she found herself spending nights in his house. It went to a point where she would see Alex maybe once in two or three weeks for a date and spend almost every other day with Theodore.

After sometime she realized that her feelings for the two men had begun to change. Theodore had become her confidant and lover. On the other hand she found herself forgetting about the dates with Alex, arriving late when he called her, zoning out when he talked to her. She was figuring out what to do when the unexpected happened.

They were lying in his bed, quietly content after a night full of activity when her lips, engaged by a sleepy mind, betrayed her. “I think… I love you.” Time froze. In one swift movement, her lover had stood from the bed and had placed his robe around his shoulders, apparating away.

She remembered how she had sat there; hurt and humiliated beyond belief. It had taken all the strength and courage that she could muster to get dressed and leave that night. That was two weeks ago.

Truth to be told, when Alex had found Theodore's waistcoat under her bed, she felt relieved. Everything would be out in the open, she could move on but once again reality turned out to be quite different than her thoughts. Alex opened up to her about his behaviour and promised to work less, be with her more and that he wanted to marry her. Before she could blink, he was down on his knee, proposing to her.

“I… I need time, Alex.”

Now here she was, lamenting unrequited love and cursing her fate.

A week later -

[Y/N] pushed open the door of her flat with a tired sigh. She tossed her shoes into their space in her coat closet with one hand as she released the clip that held her hair with the other. Moving towards the kitchen cabinet, she uncorked the wine bottle and took a sip directly from the bottle.

“Long day?” A deep voice asked her.

She turned on her feet and observed the man in front of her. Theodore was sitting on the couch as if he owned the place. “What. Do. You. Want?” She asked slowly, proud of the bitterness in her voice. “Theodore…”

He didn't verbally respond; calling her to him with a gesture of his hands. She wanted to shout at him but she couldn't. He made her weak. He reached up with his fingers for her left hand, his thumb brushing over the plain gold band that sat there.

“I'm engaged…” She tried to stop the teasing fingertips from continuing their journey of exploring her body.

“Well… you're not married yet. It's just a ring.” He whispered, holding her face to make her look at him. She felt the pads of his fingertips gripping the ring on her third finger and slowly sliding it off. A metallic clink resonated in her ears as the ring fell to the floor.

The fight drained out of her as she sunk into her lover's arms. Her knees folding under her as his lips joined with hers. She knew that this night would be their final goodbye.

“Where is your engagement ring?”

“I… I must have forgotten it.”

“Forgotten it? On the night of our engagement party?” Alex questioned incredulously. They were interrupted by some other guests and they easily fell into the conversation, saving [Y/N] from trying to come up with more lies.

“How are you doing, Codnor?” Another voice interrupted the couple. Alex cursed seeing the person who disturbed his conversation with his fiancèe.

“How did you even enter, Nott? This is an invitation only party so kindly leave before I kick you out.”

Theodore smirked, raising his closed fist over [Y/N]'s glass of champagne. One by one he uncurled his fingers, dropping something small and shiny. Alex had a look of confusion and shock on his features as he realized that in the glass was [Y/N]'s engagement ring.

“I know I wasn't invited, Codnor, but I am here to collect what's mine… don't look so shocked. She hasn't been yours for a while.”

Before she could think, Alex punched Theodore, hard… and a fight started between the two. Alex's parents changed the topic and sent the guests on their way to save their image of respectful people. It wasn't until [Y/N] physically pulled Theodore back that he stopped. Even though Alex was almost as tall as Theodore, he was no match for his muscles and strength.

“When did this… this thing start? Tell me everything, [Y/N]… honestly this time.” Alex pleaded.

“Six months ago. I was angry at you and I know it is wrong but… when I did go to the party, alone, no one paid any attention to me. Didn't even greet me with a simple ‘hello’. I felt as though I was only someone if I was with you. I felt so worthless. Theodore was at the party. He annoyed me and I took my anger out on him… I don't know how but the next thing I remember is kissing him; one thing lead to another and here we are… I am sorry Alex. I don't deserve you.”

Alex scoffed. He left immediately after throwing the ring down. His mouth did not say a word but his eyes conveyed the anger and disgust he was feeling at her.

[Y/N] turned to Theodore. “Well. It was a long day. Thank you for ruining my engagement party. Now I think we should go.” She stood from her chair but Theodore pulled her back by her wrist, making her sit on his lap. “What is it?” She asked him.

“You asked me that day, if I feel anything at all for you. The answer is, I don't. I feel everything for you, Miss [Y/N] [Y/L/N].” He said cupping her face in his hands and pressed his lips on hers.

She smiled in their kiss knowing for sure that the man whom she gave her heart to would do everything in his power to keep her safe and happy now that he finally realised what she meant to him.

THE END.

Note - i have written a Tommy Shelby version of this one, you can find it here if you are interested. I thought this one screams “Theo” so why not make a Theo version too.

[danibee33]

The Queen’s Guard- Chapter 7: Trust

knight!simon riley x queen!reader

cw: dark themes, *pls read at your own discretion*

word count: 3.8k (everything in italics is a flashback)

[<<<< chapter 6]

You still feel the faintest tremble in your fingers, your cheeks ruddy from the cold night air that breezes over your skin and through your hair. The world seems so bright, even in the darkness- like you could see every wonderful, beautiful thing in a way you simply couldn’t before. Like you were lighter than the winds, and higher than the sky. You feel like you could be flying.

And if you had known just how good being dead feels, you certainly wouldn’t have waited so long-

+++

“What?!”

Simon places a finger over his lips, silently shushing you; and you know better, immediately regretting the outburst, no matter the shock that lingers in your system, discretion was still paramount—

Your clandestine meetings had been growing more frequent; waiting for the moment he would be relieved for the night and your handmaids had flitted away to their own rooms, their own lives- so that you could slip behind the heavy wool tapestry that now hangs over the entrance to the tunnels.

You always meet in the same spot, making your way to the small adjoined alcove where you would find him waiting- either toying with his daggers or simply staring ahead, lost in thoughts you so desperately wished to hear until he heard your muffled footsteps, the sound of fabric rustling, that alerted him to your presence.

He would usually still be in his armor, his helmet sat carefully to the side- but this night, well, you couldn’t help but to admire the way he looks for a bit longer than you’re proud of.

Instead of black steel, he was covered in warm linens and rich leathers, still dark in nature, with a riding cloak over his shoulders and most of his face concealed under a heavy cowl. But when he saw you, you could see how his whole demeanor shifted. You watched his shoulders relax and the tension bleed away from his expression- watched his eyes flicker and glow in the candle light as he reached out for you, pulling you into his arms just as he did nearly every night now-

But, you weren’t in his arms anymore, no, you were pacing fervently- one hand propped on your hip and the other tangled in your hair,

“Simon, are you sure? I mean- this- this is ludicrous-”, your voice is quiet again, but each word feels labored and breathless, your lungs unable to fill themselves properly, “What you’re suggesting-”

Tentatively, he steps forward, capturing your arm easily, your name spoken so softly, in a way that conveys patience and gentility while still demanding your attention, “Breathe, My Queen.. C’mere-”

He wraps you into a tight hug, letting you bury your face in his tunic, and gods- the way his scent fills your senses, his overwhelming heat, the mass of his arms caging you in, protecting you from yourself. And when he speaks again, you lean in even more just to feel the baritone reverberate through is chest and right into yours,

“There is no other way.” Simon starts, “None that would assure that they’ll never come searchin’ for you.”

The moment he feels your breathing settle to an acceptable rate, he steps back, but only far enough to frame your face in his hands- those damned eyes prying you open; not in a destructive way, no, but in a way that reassures you, that tells you he can see your trepidation, your apprehension. A look that tells you he only wishes to open you up so that he might take them all away, let your burdens rest on his shoulders-

“Do you trust me?”

Your answer comes without pause, because it’s not one you have to give a second thought to as you turn to kiss the inside of his palm, your lips brushing against the rough skin, “Of course.”

And there must be something about the conviction in your voice, or the sincerity beaming in your eyes, because Simon sweeps you into a burning kiss so suddenly, your mind has to catch up to your body as you pull yourself closer to him- enjoying how exposed the feel of his torso is to you in these thinner layers. You swear you can feel the delicious bulk of his muscle flexing against you, your hands venturing over the breadth of his chest, reveling in how it heaves with each breath.

“I want you..” You whine into his mouth, your back now pressed into the frigid stone wall, one of his hands still tenderly cupping your jaw as the other holds your waist.

Most every meeting you have with him of late devolves into this; into feverish kisses and eager touches, you know he craves you just as much you hunger for him- more than that, you yearned for him. But, no matter what you do, or how far it goes, his self-control and willpower seem to far surpass your own, and it always ends with him holding you still- pressing sweet kisses against your forehead and your hair, his voice so kind and soft that it could bring tears to your eyes,

“I know, sweet girl..” He whispers, still kissing you, though you feel his hands tensing- ready to put a halt to it if he feels even the slightest slip in his control, “You already have me- m’yours. Only yours. But not like this-”

This time when you whimper out his name, fighting vainly to push his hand lower, your aching core so desperate for his touch, he groans; it’s a low, gravelly noise, his lips pulling up into something resembling a snarl just before you watch his head roll back.

He pulls in a deep, drawn out breath, inhaling through his nose and exhaling just the same- once, and twice. And you realize now, just how close he had let himself get to breaking his own self-enforced oath if he was having to fight it this hard.

Taking one more deep breath, he finally meets your eyes again, moving slowly and cautiously to tuck a stray bit of hair behind your ear. You let him fawn over you for a moment, your head tilted back to rest against the wall and your own gaze nearly as dark as his,

“No. You deserve more than this, love..”, he traces your bottom lip, eyes focused on the plump, pink skin there before flitting up, “When I have you, I don’t want it to be in some dark, musty tunnel.”, he pauses again, tilting his head to the side, “And I won’t have our first time be tainted by the memory of another man’s bed-”

Your breath shudders when Simon leans in again, nuzzling gently against your cheek- the tip of his nose grazing over the flush peak before he plants a kiss in the same spot, speaking again as he repeats the motion,

“No, little queen.. I want to take my time with you. I want to taste every part of you, starting here-”, a sharp gasp fills the void around you at the sensation of his tongue just above your pulse point, still hot and wet when he kisses it with a smirk on his lips, “and here..”

He gently pushes your hair out of the way, exposing your shoulder so that he could mirror the action there as well, drawing yet another breathy little whine from you,

“Stop it, you insufferable brute..” You speak the words through clenched teeth, and yet, your hands pushing down on his shoulders give an entirely different story- but he does stop, standing again to tower over you, completely unfazed by the daggers in your eyes.

And the cocky grin on his lips turns into something much warmer, his eyes not so ravenous anymore, “Believe me,” he savors your name, letting it sit in the air between you before continuing, “when I say I intend to replace every memory of him, or anyone else, I mean it. I want to show you what it’s supposed to feel like, in every way.”

+++

You pull back on the reins to come to a stop at Simon’s side. The horses’ breaths are hard and fast, much like your own, a cloudy mist of hot air dissipating as fast as it comes with each heavy snort. The castle is far below you now, just a speck in the distance, the valley it’s settled in perfectly illuminated under the dazzling full moon,

“Still think we have ‘til mornin’?” Johnny’s voice breaks the silence, his red stallion giving a tired chuff as it hooves at the cold dirt below.

Simon turns back to answer with a shrug- though his eyes land on you first, searching for your nod of approval before glancing to where the Scot waits, “Should. But, we won’t stop yet, the horses can go for a bit longer-”

You dig your heel in just enough to prompt your mare forward. The dark beast is familiar to you- chosen because she’s one of the fastest the king owns, owned, and it shows as you quickly catch up to Simon, taking your place just on his right flank, with Johnny bringing up the rear.

The plan was to ride as far as the horses could go, hopefully putting you outside of the borders of the kingdom before the alarm is raised, before whatever poor soul unwittingly discovers your treacherous crimes-

No.. don’t think like that. It had to be done.

Against the wind, you focus on Simon’s hulking form before turning your head long enough to catch Johnny’s eye. And you hate how sad he still looks, hate the grim set of his lips, and the consistent knit in his brow- there’s been no bright smiles this time, no boisterous banter, or snarky quips. He was still angry with you, and yet, he couldn’t stop watching you like you might vanish if he blinked too long.

But, you don’t blame him. How could you-

+++

Tap-tap … Tap-tap-tap

The world comes into focus again at the sound of your guard’s beckoning- you’re back in the Grand Hall, sitting on the throne, the weight of your crown perched on your head pulls uncomfortably at your scalp as the man in front of you rambles on and on. Something about the year’s bountiful harvest, and you can’t be sure what else, but gods, his voice feels like it grating against your eardrums.

You just can’t be bothered to focus on such trivial things, not when your mind wanders to the promise Simon had made to you- to take you away, to save you. Though, you suppose he’s already saved you in so many ways, more than you could ever make up to him, but you swear to yourself that’ll spend the rest of your life trying-

Hiding the exasperation in your tone, you raise your hand, “Very well, Lord Barclay. Thank you, for your time, and your very thorough survey.”

Simon’s arm is placed under your hand before you’ve even attempted to stand, it’s not an unusual or uncomely gesture, he had done it many times before, but holding onto to him like this now feels too intimate. Because you know how warm his skin is beneath yours, how firm the muscle is under the cold steel and unforgiving leather of his gauntlet-

“Thank you, Ser.” You say evenly, only sparing the most fleeting glance upward to find his eyes already on you.

It sends a shock through your system, and yet, there’s an odd sense of pride that trickles through you as well. Knowing your deception, knowing you can hold him as such, and he can look at you like that, with those around you none the wiser of your indecencies, your unbecoming thoughts-

And it’s only a matter of seconds, from the moment your fingers are settled over his forearm to the time you’re standing, but it’s enough to reignite the ever present burn you feel for him,

“‘Course, My Queen.” Simon bows his head as customary, but just like the first time you met, he doesn’t avert his eyes, and his coy expression does nothing but stoke the flame within you. But, you have a sneaking suspicion that he knows exactly what he’s doing, and that he quite enjoys playing with fire.

—--

By the time you get back to your rooms, the sun had nearly set, the once brightly lit hallways now glowed warmly with candlelight and the remnants of dusk as you stop outside your door.

Simon opens it for you, ushering you inside before relieving the other guard. He would be there all night tonight, which meant you wouldn’t see him until morning- and while the thought of him still being close, guarding your rooms, is comforting as it always has been; you already find yourself missing his touch, his warmth, and it had only been a week’s time since you got your first taste-

Gods, you’re hopeless. And never have you felt more like a spoiled brat than you do in this moment, giving Simon one last pitiful look before the heavy door clicks shut.

The candles in your entryway were already lit, but you find it odd when you round the corner to see your bedchamber still dark, save for the milky light filtering through the windows. Which is the only reason you see the odd shadow hunched over on your dressing bench, and a strangled sort of gasp lodges itself in your throat when it moves- slowly, at first, lifting its head to face the dim light.

“Johnny?”

You turn to grab the nearest candle stick, not registering how the hot wax splashes onto your hand as you set it down again. But, now that you have it, you’re not sure the light helps or only makes it worse, because now you can see just how disheveled he is- his hair is a mess, from the wind or from him running his hand through it, you don’t know. And his eyes.. he’s looking back at you with a wild gleam, his lips parting as if he might say something before they clamp shut again. The ties on his tunic are loose, the fabric hanging open, exposing the tan skin underneath and small chain hanging around his neck-

“Johnny- I.. What are you doing here?” You step closer, seeing the familiar paper in his hand, his fingers creating wrinkles and indentations from how hard he grips it, like he’s afraid to let go of it, but it almost seems to pain him at the same time.

And you know exactly what it is. It’s your letter, the one you wrote to confess your intentions, your plan to die. A morbid living will-

“Oh, Johnny.. I’m- I sent a raven-”

“Shut up.” He growls, and it stuns you, hearing the anger in his voice directed at you. He moves to stand then, not to get any closer- but to just look at you. Eyes lingering on your crown, and over your face, searching for something you can’t see or understand as he takes a small step forward, his mouth twisted into a thin line and his throat bobbing.

Seeing him like this is unlike anything you’ve felt, you think. Seeing your immutable Johnny on the verge of tears, his usually bright eyes, dark and stormy- your chest feels like it’s cracking open the longer the silence fills the space, until your own tears spill over, staining the rug in perfect little droplets. But what can you say?

‘Oh, I’m sorry you thought I was dead- but surprise! I’m not.’?

What could you possibly say to make it better-

“How dare you..” When he finally speaks, you hear the syrupy rasp in his voice, one tear rolling down his cheek- and then another, tangling in his unkempt facial hair, “You selfish, stupid girl! Why would ye write this? Huh?”

He doesn’t shout, but you can tell it’s taking everything in him not to- the restraint shows in the red flush of his skin and the rigid set in his shoulders, the rage in his eyes as he looks down at you before shoving the letter into your hands. Your own tears haven’t stopped, and you feel frozen in place, wracked with guilt and anguish and frustration,

“I’m sorr-”

Johnny huffs out a sarcastic laugh cutting you off, running a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots,

“I thought you were dead.. DEAD, Sunny. And you’re sorry? That’s all you got?”

It’s the way he waves his hand at you that causes you to flinch, and that terrible frustration blooms into full blown anger when he turns his back on you. You crumple the paper in your hand, forming it into a deformed sort of ball so that you could chuck it as hard as you can, aiming right for the back of his head,

“Selfish? I’m selfish?” You hiss, watching with satisfaction as the paper ball hits its target, bouncing off his head and rolling somewhere you can’t see, “My whole life has been serving others- and I’m the one who’s selfish? How rich coming from you, MacTavish.”

He turns on his heel, a look of heated confusion on his face, “What’s tha’ s’pose to mean? Like I haven’t served? Who do y’think is out there fightin’ your wars, your highness?”

With a short scoff, you turn away from- wiping the moisture from your face and yanking the crown from your head so you can toss it on the bed, “Oh, enough of that! What happened to ‘not a lord or a queen’? Are we not just us, anymore? Is that all you see?”, you gesture back to the crown, “Because that’s not me- that isn’t all I am-”

Just as quickly as it had come, your anger fizzles out, the flashfire smothered with a sadness so deep, so profound, you’re not sure what do with it,

“I was tired, Johnny. Weary, down to my marrow-”, a broken sob tumbles out as you wrap your arms around yourself in a lame attempt to find comfort, “I never meant for it to be selfish, I only thought I was doing a favor. For myself, for you. I can’t explain it..”

You watch his own flame die out with your words, watch the furious glint in his eyes settle- and when he steps forward, you don’t try to stop him, you don’t stop him when he pulls you into his arms, or when he presses a long kiss to the top of your head,

“I know, I know- I’m so sorry.. I dinnae mean a word of it, I know you’re not selfish. Hells, you’re probably the most selfless person I’ve ever known. But, Sunny..”, he pulls your face up, wiping the tears and mucus away, looking down at you with a softness you weren’t expecting, his big hands cupping your cheeks and jaw, “When I- When I thought you were..”

He bites his lip, breathing through the word on his tongue- not wanting to say it out loud anymore than he already had, “I thought I lost you..”

It comes out in a whisper, his eyes, still brimmed with tears, so steady on yours it makes your breath shorten- because he had never looked at you like that, and you had never seen him the way you see him now, had never given a thought to the idea of wanting him to hold you like he is now, wanting him to look at you-

No, no- he’s Johnny. Just Johnny.. Your best friend, you had grown up together, seen every stage of each other- from kids to scrawny pre-teens, awkward teenagers at best, you had both seen the other at their worst. So, why are you so surprised to look at him now, and see how handsome he’s become, how tall he’s gotten, and how well he fills out his clothes-

Stop, just stop- you admonish your own thoughts, he’s still just Johnny.. He’s not Simon.

“I know..”, you say, blinking away the tears and wrapping your hands around his wrists, “But, never again. I promise, Johnny.”

That seems to break his hypnosis, focusing on your words, on the feel of your skin on his- he shakes his head, releasing you gently and clearing his throat, the tension that had been there only moments ago gone dormant, “What changed?”

You glance over your shoulder, looking towards the entryway, wishing you could see Simon for just a second, “Well.. we’re hoping you can help with something.”

“We?”

+++

Simon’s path takes you deep through the forests, and as soon as you reach the river, you follow its meandering trail for the better part of the night- guided by the moon and stars, your trio traverses land that you had never seen, much less touched. And you only wish for a chance to see it in the sun, hear the birds singing, and the breeze rustling through the boughs; watch the water babble and flow, glittering in the sunlight.

But, there is something otherworldly about experiencing it at night. You hadn’t been outside the castle walls after dark, ever, now that you think about it- never mind on horseback.

And never mind the fact that you’re doing it to run away from your life, your identity left behind.. everything you’ve ever known..

So, why aren’t you afraid? Why have you never felt more content, more safe, than you do right now? Through the soreness and discomfort, the adrenaline still teeming in your mind and body, all it takes to settle your thoughts is meeting Simon’s gaze- still so steadfast and assured.

Or feeling Johnny’s calming presence next to you, warm enough to cut through the chill. Even if things aren’t as natural between you as they used to be, you know you could still lean on each other, that he would be there for you, and you for him.

But there’s something about the odd tension that still lingers when he looks at you, like invisible tendrils that bind you, pulling and stretching. But you don’t understand it, you only feel the strain, like a warning or an omen, something threatening to snap. But it won’t just yet.. not now-

Simon comes to a slow stop, you and Johnny following his lead up the high ridge. And faintly, you hear the crashing of waves, the wind picking up wildly as you break the treeline.

The cliffs, ones you had only seen as a child, glow brilliantly in the sunrise. It’s enough to steal your breath, and make your head spin. They had brought you home.

You’re so entranced by the glorious sight in front of you, by the sting of your hair whipping across your chapped cheeks, that the feel of Simon’s hand on your leg almost startles you,

“We’ll stop here for the day.. eat and rest.”

He lifts you from the saddle, keeping his hands stretched over your waist until he’s sure you're steady on your feet, “Are you all right, my queen?”

Johnny watches from your peripheral, meeting your eye for a split second before you answer, a tired smile on your lips,

“I’m not your queen anymore, Simon..”

[chapter 8>>>>]

taglist: @spxctorsslxt @ssc7514

[waksworldrebooted]

THE FULL MOTORCITY PITCH BIBLE GOT LEAKED

It’s been a while since I posted anything Motorcity related but here we are with this thing: the full unedited extended Pitch Bible from Chris P.

Special thanks to The Media Busters for finding this:

Motorcity: Series Bible (Revised 2/15/11)

Logline: In the future, charismatic tyrant, Abraham Kane, is taking over Detroit, transforming it block-by-block into his insidious city of tomorrow: KaneCo Deluxe. But one thing stands in his way: the Burners! Led by the charming and impulsive daredevil, Mike Chilton, this band of hot-rod wielding rebels fights to protect Motorcity - the last oasis of freedom - from the power-hungry Kane and his endless army of technological terrors. Motorcity is a high-octane animated action-comedy that celebrates freedom and independence with cool cars, great action, and dynamic heroes who stand up for what they believe in.

Motorcity: Live Fast. Live Free.

Remember the feeling you got when you first had the chance to drive? The power? The freedom? That’s what Motorcity is all about. It’s a high-octane animated thrill ride, pitting futuristic cars against terrifying robot technology, rival hot rod gangs and the nefarious power-hungry villains lurking in their own backyard!It’s the story of Mike Chilton, a teenage hero, and his struggle to prevent the evil Abraham Kane from achieving the complete and total domination of his hometown – Detroit. It’s a show for people who love to drive or can’t wait until they can.

The Situation

THE CONFLICT: Motorcity is the story of the BATTLE FOR DETROIT!

Detroit has been split into two separate sections of the same city: KaneCo Deluxe, a floating city of the future owned by evil industrialist, Kane, where freedom and cars are abolished, and Motorcity, a vibrant underground community built within the bones of old Detroit where people are free to live as they please. Kane desperately wants control of Detroit- wielding power over KaneCo Deluxe isn’t enough. He needs to wipe out the last patch of resistance and claim Motorcity as his own to complete his vision.

OUR HEROES: Mike Chilton and his band of rebels, The Burners.

THEIR MISSION: To protect Motorcity, the last oasis of freedom, from the evil reach of Abraham Kane, a power-hungry tyrant hell-bent on taking over all of Detroit so he can transform it into his insidious city of the future – KaneCo Deluxe.

Mike and The Burners are charming rebels that share a lot in common with the original “Champions of Justice”: Robin Hood and His Merry Men. To put it simply:

Mike = Robin Hood

The Burners = Merry Men

Our heroes hide out in Motorcity (Sherwood Forest), devising plans to take down Kane (Sheriff Of Nottingham) and bring freedom to the people of Motorcity (Nottingham).

Julie (a Burner with a secret: she’s Kane’s daughter) = Maid Marian (she straddles the worlds of Deluxe and Motorcity

The Feel and Tone

Action! Freedom! Speed! FUN!

When you strip it all down, Motorcity is about the joy of racing around in tricked-out cars, fighting robots, and racing your rivals. It’s FUN! Dang it! And we never want to lose sight of that.

Mike has the ability to look a life and death situation in the eye and find the fun in it. Every day is a high stakes battle, but Mike’s impulsive approach to any problem is what makes him unique. It’s not that he doesn’t take his fight with Kane seriously – It’s the heat-of-the-moment, seat-of-his-pants way he that makes him Mike!Get ready for an eight-cylinder action-comedy road trip through the fast lane of futuristic sci-fi...

The World

KaneCo Deluxe

Perfect, but boring. Kane’s futuristic metropolis is cold and uninviting. The gray and white shell envelops the “engine” of the old city underneath. It’s the veneer that hides the multiple cables, wires, pipes and guts encapsulated in Motorcity that power all of Detroit. Floating “living room” pods carry the Deluxe citizens from apartment husks to factory complexes to food distribution centers and back. The pods recharge as they dock. They only go where the computer sends them. There are no sidewalks. There is no freedom. No one decides where and when to go – they just do as they’re told.

The KaneCo Deluxe citizens all work for KaneCo - and if they question Kane’s methods, they don’t dare say anything about it for fear of their safety. As long as they do what the great leader, Abraham Kane, says, there won’t be any trouble. This includes participating in the war effort against Motorcity and the Burners – who, according to Kane, want nothing but to take away their safety and replace it with chaos and anarchy!

Motorcity

Underneath the sprawling megacity of Deluxe is a vibrant community of freedom-loving farmers, engineers, artists, mechanics and warriors. Although they live underground, these Motorcitizens are happy and free. This underground world is colorful and organic – a meld of nature and technology. A harmonious blend of old and new. Mike and the Burners use the immense power lines and data cables as roads to traverse the distances of Motorcity, as well as the remnants of the old highways and roads that haven’t been destroyed by Kane.The people of Motorcity are frequently under attack by KaneCo’s forces. Kane often sends his seek-and-destroy robots – he calls them his Safe-T-Bots – to eradicate enclaves of humanity nestled within the city’s inner workings. Some Motorcity citizens respond by building up highly defensible fortress dwellings to protect their beloved city. While some hide or stay mobile, there others who rise up and fight to protect what they’ve built for themselves down there. They don’t have to play by Kane’s rules and they want to keep it that way. Motorcity is a nurturing oasis for creativity, danger and fun.

Mike is the leader of the Burners – the primary force of resistance against Kane – but there are other gangs and groups in Motorcity. They are mostly unorganized and fight each other more often than they pose a threat against Kane. Mike and the Burners regularly go on scavenging expeditions to the oldest reaches under the city to find the parts needed to build and maintain their vehicles. They also raid Kane’s power plants and technical facilities buried under the city for advanced electronics and other futuristic tech. Kane’s biggest weakness is that his enemy lives in his own basement. They can attack his soft underbelly without warning.This is a constant source of frustration and anger for Kane!

The mechanics of KaneCo Deluxe and Motorcity:

KaneCo Deluxe is a giant supercity – about 175 miles across. Good thing the Burners’ cars can drive so fast! 500mph gets you around Motorcity quickly, especially with no rush hour...The pods up above travel just as fast - but no one ever gets within 10 miles of the city’s border. Since no one can control a pod, no citizen has ever even been close. And just in case someone tries, there’s a force field trapping everyone in. The view from the edge of town is completely obscured by a giant holo-projection of a depressed wasteland. This is what Kane has fooled the people into believing. There’s nothing worth it out there. Everything worth having is within the walls of KaneCo Deluxe. There’s a lot of danger out there and we need to protect our borders! All utility and power systems that run KaneCo Deluxe are buried in Motorcity. The Burners and other pockets of Motorcity dwellers draw what power they need from these massive generators. The immense tubes that provide energy, water, ventilation, communication and sewage are used by the Burners as a network of tunnels and highways to travel underground - as well as provide access to the maintenance hatches needed to sustain KaneCo Deluxe.The Burners have figured out ways to hack into these maintenance systems to not only get in and out of Motorcity, but to throw Kane off their scent as well. When Security Bots are on their tail, the paths of the massive tubes can be switched – just like the switches of old fashioned train tracks. The Burners know these tubes and tunnels better than anyone and Mike has learned to be unpredictable – to go left when it’s logical to go right. The best way to outwit a robot is to think like a human!

The Characters

Mike Chilton

(bravery, guts)

AFFILIATION: Burner

TITLE: Leader - he’s the man in charge of the Burners, and the man behind the entire resistance against Kane. He’s got a tough challenge ahead – both in fighting Kane, and managing the unique personalities of his team.

IS: a cool, quick-witted, funny, gutsy, impulsive 17-year-old who generally has things under control and doesn’t take much seriously (except for, of course, his mission to take down Kane). Mike never does things the easy way – he does them the fun way! That means leaping BEFORE looking, jumping into the water without testing the temperature.

Mike is naturally gifted. He doesn’t have to try to be exceptionally good, he just is. He is the guy who doesn’t care about winning the trophy, but he has a closet full of them. This effortless skill is what attracted Kane’s attention and what makes him such a tough opponent.

STRENGTH: His daredevil spirit – it usually gets him out of trouble.

WEAKNESS: His daredevil spirit – it usually gets him into trouble.

WANTS: speed and adventure. New experiences. And most of all... Freedom! For everyone! That means saving his people – the citizens of Motorcity. Mike wants to keep Motorcity out of Kane’s clutches so they don’t become drones to the Deluxian way of life and lose their precious freedom, or even worse, be destroyed if they refuse to submit. The Burners are the people’s only hope, and Mike isn’t going to rest until Motorcity is truly free.DOES NOT WANT: BOREDOM! Complacency! Mike likes to DO. Why waste time talking about it when he could be done before the others stop flapping their gums? IF HE WAS A WEAPON, HE’D BE: a machine gun

FAMILY: None known

RELATIONSHIPS:

MIKE AND KANE: Mike used to be a cadet in Kane’s Ultra-Elite Forces Training Academy - he believed in KaneCo Deluxe and felt it was his duty to protect the people. Mike was the top of his class, tackling every challenge or fight with reckless abandon – none of the other cadets had the courage, the guts or the skill to keep up with him. Kane saw something special in Mike and took him under his wing. He had BIG PLANS for our boy. But when Mike discovered what Kane was really up to (you know, EVIL), he knew he had to break rank and take a stand. Both Mike and Kane feel BETRAYED by one another, which makes their struggle for KaneCo Deluxe and Motorcity extremely personal.

MIKE AND CHUCK: They’re best buds. They’re opposites, but they need each other. They have each other’s back – no matter what...

MIKE AND JULIE: They’re very close, but not that close. There’s nothing romantic going on between them – at least not yet...Mike doesn’t show his vulnerable side too often, but when he does, it’s almost always with Julie. He confides in her. Fears, worries, hopes and dreams.

MIKE AND JACOB: Pupil and teacher to a degree. Jacob offers up sage advice, and Mike does his best to follow it.

MIKE AND THE BURNERS: They’re a makeshift family and oil is thicker than blood. Mike would do anything to protect his team and vice-versa.

RIDE: Mutt – a retrofitted 70’s Muscle-Car with four turbine tri-pulsor engines, a slew of energy weapons, a grip of gadgets and a 21st century chopper hidden between the exhaust pipes!

WEAPONS OF CHOICE: Guts. Oh, and also a SKULL-HEADED DUAL-BLADED SPARK STAFF (think laser-sword meets flaming chainsaw!)

Chuck

(brains)

AFFILIATION: Burner

ROLE: Tech Guru / Mike’s co-pilot

IS: Mike’s best friend and sidekick, as well as an automobile aficionado – he knows everything about every car ever made ever- schematics, engine specs, performance ratings, etc. However, he is also terrified of the “speed” and “danger” associated with them. (Come to think of it, we never see him driving...) He reluctantly rides shotgun with Mike on most missions, even though he’d much rather avoid conflict altogether.

STRENGTH: Thanks to his big ol’ brain, Chuck can always find an escape route or a solution to a technical problem in a pinch. He performs well under stress and terror, even though he hates it. Although he's usually terrified of the situation Mike has put him in, he is incredibly loyal and will never bail on him. Chuck is also constantly improving the Burners’ computer and security systems.

WEAKNESS: AAAAAAHH! Easily scared. Overly-cautious. Anal retentive. Always fiddling with the computer and security systems!WANTS: To survive driving around with Mike. To stay home and play “Laser Swords” on his computer. To win Claire’s heart. And secretly – to be more brave.

DOES NOT WANT: To man the gunner controls (but he will if he has to!). To “go in for a closer look.” To go skydiving.

IF HE WERE A WEAPON, HE’D BE: a force field

SECRET: He doesn’t know how to drive! As much as Chuck loves cars, he’s just too scared to get behind the wheel. He’s able to keep the gang fooled by telling them he refuses to drive anything other than a Remote Control Car until he finishes building his dream car - the fastest, sleekest, most high-performance automotive machine the world has ever known. Of course, building the ultimate hot-rod will take years. And years. And years...

FAMILY: Chuck’s parents live in KaneCo Deluxe. They have no idea that Chuck is a Burner. They think he’s a Hover Repulsor Interface Technician at KaneCo.

RELATIONSHIPS:

CHUCK AND MIKE: They’re best buds. Chuck would do anything for him.

CHUCK AND DUTCH: Chuck engineers cars. Dutch builds cars and repairs them. Chuck is very precise and anal-ytical – a perfectionist. Dutch is not – he’s an artist and creates on the fly. When these guys have to collaborate, things get a little tense.

CHUCK AND CLAIRE: Chuck has a BIG crush on Claire. Claire thinks Chuck is G-ROSS.

CHUCK AND TEXAS: Oil and water. Legolas and Gimli. Nothing in common, except for their Burner patch and friendship with Mike – who often bridges the gap between them.

RIDE: “Umm... it’s in the shop.”

WEAPONS/SKILLS: Master Hacker. High-Tech Slingshot. Advanced trigonometry

Julie

(heart)

AFFILIATION: Burner

ROLE: Intel-Gatherer / Gal on the Inside / Illusionist / Moral Conscience

IS: a bright, empathetic girl who sees good in even the worst people. She’s less quick to shoot than Mike, but when she does, she’s accurate and lethal. Julie is a master of stealth, infiltration, and espionage. She’s both feminine and tomboyish, has a smart, sarcastic sense of humor, and is quick on her feet – she has to be, because she leads a secret double life...

EARTH-SHATTERING SECRET: Julie is Kane’s daughter – and NONE of The Burners know. She tells them she is able to gather intel on Kane’s nefarious plots because she’s a “KaneCo Intern.” And, of course, Kane has no idea that Julie is hanging out with those ne’er-do-well Burners.

STRENGTHS: Chameleon-like ability to blend into any environment. She has the rare gift of being accepted into Deluxian society and the Burner World. She can access the highest levels of KaneCo headquarters without breaking a sweat. She also knows her way around a hologram projector – she uses her illusions and decoys to evade capture when she’s running with the Burners. Julie also possesses a great moral compass and lets the gang know when they’ve gone too far.

WEAKNESS: Her secret identity. Can’t let her father know she’s a Burner, and can’t let the Burners know she’s Kane’s daughter.

WANTS: Harmony. She also wants her father to realize that what he’s doing is wrong. She wants to maintain her relationship with her father AND her affiliation with the Burners – a delicate balancing act.

DOES NOT WANT: anyone to get hurt.

WORRIES THAT: the other Burners are having fun without her when she’s up in KaneCo Deluxe.

IF SHE WERE A WEAPON, SHE’D BE: a sniper rifle

FAMILY: Kane is her father. Her mother passed away when Julie was an infant.

RELATIONSHIPS:

JULIE AND KANE: Kane loves his precious, little girl and would do anything to keep her safe. He wants to protect her from everything – which is one of the main reasons he built KaneCo Deluxe in the first place.

Julie still believes there’s good in Kane and doesn’t want any serious harm to come to him. What he’s doing may be evil, but she still thinks he’ll come around in the end. But until that day, she has to do what she can to help the people.

JULIE AND CLAIRE: BFFs since kindergarten. These days Julie sometimes has trouble relating to Claire’s Deluxian lifestyle. But Julie uses her old friend as a sounding board for everything she can’t tell the Burners about.

RIDE: Nine Lives -A modified mid 21st century police cruiser. Her ride can produce decoy hologram-cars to throw pursuers off her trail, cloak to near invisibility, and deploy smoke screens, oils slicks and electromagnetic pulse mines. Also has a high precision Sniper Beam under the hood.

SKILLS AND WEAPONS: Espionage. Natural charm. Can manipulate Tooley with ease. Able to keep the Burners focused on the mission at hand. Extensive knowledge of flash grenades, smoke bombs, and other electro-explosives.

Texas

(Muscle)

AFFILIATION: Burner ROLE: Texas handles anything that involves exploding, crashing, or smashing things with his head.

IS: Slightly stupid. Somewhat lovable. And REALLY violent! Powder keg. Won't think twice about punching anything. Dedicated to the team and be the first to the battlefront when a fight breaks out. He is not a voice of dissent. He's gung-ho. He's a cheerleader. He's raring to go! Hell yeah!

SECRET: Really wants to be leader of the Burners. No… believes he WILL BE leader of the Burners!

STRENGTH: Strength

WEAKNESS: Brain. Ego. Self-confidence bordering on delusion. Likes to brag about qualities he does not possess but thinks he does. WANTS: To move fast and smash stuff. To be Mike. But unlike Mike, Texas wants to be recognized for his awesomeness.

DOEST NOT WANT: To wait. To solve problems by “talking it over.” And big words!

IF HE WERE A WEAPON, HE’D BE: Trick question! Texas IS a weapon!

FAMILY: His parents live in Motorcity, where Texas was born and raised. His father plays the harp. His mother is a Professor of Women’s Literature.

RELATIONSHIPS:

MIKE AND TEXAS: Hero and understudy. Mike doesn’t know it, but Texas wants to be him.

TEXAS AND CHUCK: Oil and water. Muscle and smarts. Polar opposites.

TEXAS AND DUTCH: Fire and gasoline. Any dumb idea Texas has is always encouraged by Dutch.

RIDE: TEXAS - Not unlike George Forman, Texas has named his car after himself – because it is clearly the best name for anything awesome. Cobbled from the best late 20th century Italian sports cars, TEXAS is equipped with massive air-powered battering pistons, ram plates and hydro drills. Relies on physical weapons such as his roof-mounted grappling hook and the battering ram which is revealed by splitting open his front grille.

WEAPONS OF CHOICE: Laser nunchucks. Strong-ness. Massive neck!

Dutch

(creativity)

AFFILIATION: Burner

ROLE: Guerilla artist and mechanic

IS: the Burner’s creative spark. Unable to take the oppression of KaneCo Deluxe, he ran away to Motorcity to make art in peace. Now he fights against Kane’s forces to keep from losing his newfound freedom. Dutch is wary of Deluxe – he’s glad to have escaped and hates going back, even to fight Kane. He’s mistrustful of others - until he gets to know you; then he has your back for life.

STRENGTH: Ingenuity. Ability to make something out of nothing. First-rate mechanic. Makes the Burners and their cars LOOK GOOD too.

WEAKNESS: Dutch tends to be an island. That’s how he got his name – because he goes it ALONE. But Dutch can’t resist getting caught up with the Burners. It’s too much fun and he gets to build all sorts of crazy stuff. Sometimes he cares a little too much about his art. Dutch doesn’t take criticism well, so do NOT criticize his work or tell him how to do his job. Just don’t. Trust me.

WANTS: To be free to create and express himself in peace

DOES NOT WANT: To hear what you think about his art.

IF HE WERE A WEAPON, HE’D BE: A spring-loaded bear trap

FAMILY: His parents live on surface but they don’t keep in contact. They totally buy into the KaneCo lifestyle and think their son is a criminal.

RELATIONSHIPS:

DUTCH AND CHUCK – Chuck works on the cars’ circuitry and computer parts. Dutch focuses on the physical workings. Chuck is an anal-retentive nerd who wants everything done a certain way. Dutch can’t stand those kind of restrictions. He’s going to do it his way or no way at all. This causes friction. A lot of it.

DUTCH AND TEXAS – Dutch is a bit of a prankster and is constantly egging Texas on to do really dumb things (like talk to hot girls, lick a battery, chew on tinfoil, or super-glue his hat to his head).

DUTCH AND JULIE – She’s cool, but he doesn’t understand why she can’t just give up her meaningless life in KaneCo Deluxe and live in Motorcity full-time like the rest of them. It gives him doubts as to her true intentions.

DUTCH AND CLAIRE – People like her are EXACTLY why he left that Deluxian wasteland in the first place. Yechhh!

RIDE: The Scorpion Sting - A mid 21st century hot rod that’s in a constant state of modification. He’s switching the color and welding new things onto it every episode. The speakers incorporated into the Scorpion’s body transform into his “SONIC SPITTER,” that can shatter armor plating with ear-splitting sound waves. Dutch’s car also carries

ROTH – a multi-functional robot who helps with the car mods and field repairs.

SKILLS AND WEAPONS: McGuyver-esque building talent. In charge of TRAPS. Wields a weaponized SOCKET WRENCH, which he has modified to serve as a mace.

The "Sonic Spitter's" description was not given unfortunately

Jacob

(wisdom)

AFFILIATION: Burner

ROLE: Advisor, chef, and crazy old uncle type

IS: a hippie type in his mid-60’s and Kane’s former partner (a relationship that ended when Kane got all megalomaniacal and what-not). Jacob can’t quite keep up with all these young whippersnappers, so he’s taken on a more advisory role in the group: cooking them organic meals instead of the processed food bars they serve in Deluxe, counseling them on missions, and helping them out however he can. But don’t underestimate him just because he’s old and likes mung bean stew – he’s still got some driving left in him! And he’s chock full of scientific and technological knowledge, too, if you can sift through all of the organic food talk.

STRENGTHS: Cooking (according to him), experience, and knowledge of Kane. And a pretty dang good helicopter pilot and great when you need a tow.

WEAKNESS: Cooking (according to Burners). His back. The gout. Enlarged prostate. He’s not as young as he used to be…

WANTS: To see a truly free and safe Detroit, the way he and Kane envisioned it before Kane went off the deep end.

DOES NOT WANT: The music up too loud. New technology. To be forced to live in Kane’s idea of Detroit.

IF HE WERE A WEAPON, HE’D BE: a musket

RELATIONSHIPS:

JACOB AND KANE – Jacob and Kane worked together in the past. In fact, they co-founded KaneCo, hoping to create a safer, more peaceful world. But they had a falling out about how to use the technology they created. Kane turned on Jacob, ultimately labeling him an enemy of the state. They’re like Obi-Wan and Darth Vader. Magneto and Dr. X. One stayed righteous as the other spiraled down a dark path.

JACOB AND MIKE – Yoda and Luke. The man who has seen it all, and the up-and-comer with tremendous potential and a lot to learn.

RIDE: The ’57 Sasquatch - A 20th century chop top, jacked up on monster truck tires with a modified tow truck bed for a rear end.

WEAPONS OF CHOICE: Garden hoe. Compost. Juicer. Wisdom. Organic mung beans.

Claire

AFFILIATION: Deluxian

SERIES ROLE: Represents the average Deluxian youth

IS: Julie’s “valley-girl” best friend and confidant. Claire serves as a sounding board for Julie to discuss the problems she can’t discuss with the Burners – primarily, her secret life as Kane’s daughter.

STRENGTH: The amount of KaneCoins in her bank account, shopping prowess and super-hotness.

WEAKNESS: She’s obnoxiously prissy, is grossed out by the Burners and is pretty useless unless you need someone to go to the mall with.

WANTS: To live her nice KaneCo Deluxe life surrounded by her KaneCo products without having to suffer the antics of those dirtbag Burners Julie insists on hanging out with!

DOES NOT WANT: To be stuck in Motorcity for any length of time. Especially with that creepy Chuck!

FAMILY: Daughter of prominent KaneCo executive.

RELATIONSHIPS:

CLAIRE AND JULIE – Best friends. Claire is the only person who knows Julie is leading a double life as Kane’s daughter and a Burner. Even though she doesn’t approved of these new friends Julie has and the cause they fight for, she goes along to support her friend- Julie usually has a pretty good sense of what is right. She may not like the Burners, but she’s a true and loyal friend to Julie, no matter what.

CLAIRE AND CHUCK – Chuck is into her…she does NOT feel the same.

CLAIRE AND THE BURNERS – She only hangs out down there because of Julie. They are gross and smelly and hate everything good, like KaneCo products! She doesn’t see what Julie sees in them…and she hopes it’s just a phase.

CLAIRE AND KANE – She’s a KaneCo fangirl and Kane loves her. She’s just the kind of friend and role model that his daughter needs. Claire only WISHES she could be Kane’s daughter. Julie is TOTALLY LUCKY!

RIDE: her bedroom - a standard KaneCo living pod.

SKILLS AND WEAPONS: KaneCo credit. Consuming. Good use of rouge.

Abraham Kane

AFFILIATION: KaneCo

ROLE: Founder and CEO of KaneCo. Homicidal tyrant.

IS: An evil industrialist and megalomaniacal madman hellbent on capturing all of Detroit. Which means getting rid of the entire Motorcity population living in the bowels of his precious Deluxe. Which means WIPING THEM ALL OUT. And to add insult to injury, he has fun being evil.

STRENGTHS: Charisma. Unlimited resources. Technological Terrors. Master propagandist. Complete lack of remorse.

WEAKNESSES: Puts all of his faith in his technology. Consumed with wiping out the Burners and everyone in Motorcity.

WANTS: To get rid of those filthy Burners. And control-control-control. Kane’s got big plans for KaneCo Deluxe, and they don’t involve anyone living underneath it and gumming up the works. He won’t rest until everything with a pulse is removed from Motorcity and it is his to further his vision of complete domination.

DOES NOT WANT: Anyone to have fun outside of the predetermined box. Anyone living beneath KaneCo Deluxe. Anyone joining the Burners. And most importantly – to let anyone else have control of anything.

IF HE WERE A HISTORICAL FIGURE, HE’D BE: Vlad the Impaler. With just a hint of Joseph Stalin.

FAMILY: Julie is his daughter. His wife died a long time ago.

RELATIONSHIPS:

KANE AND MIKE: Mortal enemies. Were once like father and son. Now each sees the other as a backstabbing traitor who broke his heart. He wants vengeance against Mike at all costs! No one betrays Abraham Kane!

KANE AND JULIE: Believe it or not, Kane does love his daughter. And at one point in time, she was the whole reason he started KaneCo Deluxe. But nowadays his reasons are much more nefarious, and Julie clings to the hope that she can restore her father’s humanity some day. Kane sees Julie as a child, a fragile egg that needs protecting. And protecting means an ivory tower and isolation, not a father’s love. Their relationship is cold. Kane doesn’t even bother to know Julie and the bright and caring young woman she’s become. He keeps her at arms length at all times.

KANE AND JACOB: Co-founders of KaneCo. Were once like brothers. Then Jacob began to see Kane as a despotic maniac with no moral compass, and Kane began to see Jacob as a naïve idealist who has no idea what it takes to run a corporation.

KANE AND TOOLEY: Tooley may be an imbecile, but he possesses one quality that is very important to Kane – loyalty.

RIDE: He would never get near a car, but sometimes grabs the controls of whatever technological death machine he pits against the Burners.

WEAPONS OF CHOICE: Safe-T-Bots and other Robots. Slaughter Pods. Doom Drones. Threats and intimidation. Eventually, the “Teenage Assassin.”

Tooley

AFFILIATION: KaneCo

ROLE: Lackey and mindless thug. Think Barney Fife, but bigger and dumber. Picture Gilligan if he could beat you up.

IS: a lovable goon and uber-KaneCo fanboy who has earned his spot at Kane’s side by being unwaveringly loyal. He has totally bought into the KaneCo way of life and he’ll do whatever Kane says without ever being a threat to Kane’s power…except for when he tries to impress his hero and his plans go horribly awry. Or when he’s watching cartoons on the job and the Burners sneak past him. Or when the Burners outwit him and lock him in a closet. Or when he tells Julie anything she wants to know and gives away Kane’s secret plans. You get the picture.

STRENGTH: Brute strength. Has seen every episode of the “Robot Walrus”.

WEAKNESS: He’s even dumber than Texas. Easily manipulated, especially by Julie. Usually watching “Robot Walrus” when he’s supposed to be working. WANTS: To please Kane and to make Julie his ladyfriend for life.

RELATIONSHIPS:

TOOLEY AND KANE – Tooley is Kane’s obedient lackey. Kane knows he’s dumb, but unlike Mike Chilton, he’s LOYAL. Tooley LOVES Kane and wants to be just like him, but unfortunately lacks any of Kane’s skills.

TOOLEY AND JULIE – Their names rhyme! That means they’re meant to be, right? That’s what Tooley thinks. If it were up to him, they’d have a beautiful KaneCo wedding and honeymoon right there in beautiful downtown KaneCo Deluxe and have lots of babies at the KaneCo Maternal and Neo-Natal Complex. Unfortunately for him, Julie’s not buying it.

TOOLEY AND THE BURNERS – Tooley is to the Burners what Sergeant Shultz was to Hogan’s Heroes. He’s incompetent and that’s what allows them to infiltrate KaneCo as often as they do.

TOOLEY AND “TEENAGE ASSASSIN” – Tooley can’t see why Kane needs this tool—he’s already got a TOOLEY! He resents the need for extra muscle…especially muscle with brain. Teenage Assassin can’t believe Kane keeps an imbecile like Tooley around. Needless to say, they don’t get along.

RIDE: a standard KaneCo security pod.

WEAPONS OF CHOICE: Fists. Futuristic police baton

Gabriel ("Teenage Assassin")

AFFILIATION: KaneCo ROLE: Kane’s new Number One IS: Terrifying.

STRENGTH: He’s like a cold, calculating version of Mike. All skill, no humor.

WEAKNESS: None known WANTS: To destroy Mike Chilton. To please Kane.

DOES NOT WANT: To Lose.

IF HE WERE A WEAPON, HE’D BE: one of those new state-of-the-art automatic rifles that can shoot around corners.

FAMILY: Unknown

RELATIONSHIPS: Unknown (but here’s a Top Secret tidbit: he used to know Mike)

RIDE: a modified, weaponized KaneCo security pod.

WEAPONS OF CHOICE: Force field gauntlets. Anything else that gets the job done.

Duke of Detroit

AFFILIATION: Himself

ROLE: Scoundrel. Rogue boss.

IS: a shadowy, charming, manipulative figure based in the Deep Reaches of Motorcity who has a hand in anything and everything he finds useful. Those that know of the Duke know he’s not a dude to be taken lightly – or dealt with at all! A deal with the Duke usually costs a lot more than you bargain for. There’s probably a great story behind his mouth full of metal teeth, but he’s not telling.

STRENGTH: finding weak spots. Manipulation. Coercion. Political genius. Making offers you can’t refuse. Street smarts, especially in the world of Motorcity.

WEAKNESS: Vain. Addicted to material wealth. Wouldn’t hesitate to stab his own mother in the back.

WANTS: Free reign over Motorcity. Constant entertainment, usually at the expense of others.

DOES NOT WANT: Conflict with Kane – that would endanger the good thing he’s got going!

IF HE WERE A WEAPON, HE’D BE: a tommy gun

FAMILY: Unknown

RELATIONSHIPS:

THE DUKE AND THE BURNERS: Mike and the gang know better than to trust the Duke, but sometimes they have no choice. The Duke has clout, whether you like it or not.

THE DUKE AND MOTORCITY: He’s friendly to civilians until it’s time to pay what you owe. Then the creepy metal smile disappears. The Duke keeps people in line by offering them sadistic pay-per-view style combat events, which he stages in his own Motorcity stadium.

THE DUKE AND KANE: Mutual understanding. They sometimes even work with each other when there’s something in it for both of them. A war between them would seriously threaten their respective empires.

RIDE: An early 20th century Bentley tricked out with gangster flare and armed to the gills.

WEAPONS OF CHOICE: Spiked baseball bats. And a mouth full of metal teeth.

Q&A

WHO/WHAT IS MIKE PROTECTING?

Mike and the Burners are all that stands between Kane and complete domination of Detroit. The Burners are defenders of Motorcity, and they’ll fight to the bitter end to keep Kane from getting his clutches on this last remaining bastion of freedom.

Ultimately, Mike is protecting people’s freedom. The freedom to live their lives the way they see fit.

WHY DOES KANE WANT DETROIT SO BAD?

Because it will give him POWER. Power to create his city. Not the city that the people want, but the city that they need.

Power to protect himself. To control. To crush those who would dare betray him.

Kane grew up in poverty in old Detroit. Surrounded by crime and decay. He never felt safe.

Working on the automobile assembly lines saved him from the streets. It gave him order and structure when everything else in his life was chaotic. Much like Henry Ford, the assembly-line mentality made a huge, and not altogether positive, impact on his thinking. He started seeing people as parts of a vast machine, not free-thinking souls. He determined excessive freedom and free choice was what was ruining Detroit. And he began to dream about what Detroit could be if he was in charge…

We like to think of Kane as sort of an anti-Bruce Wayne. Both were scarred at a young age by the ills of their cities. Both passionately dedicated their lives to making their cities a better place. And both went a little overboard: One going the hero route, dressing up as a Bat to clean up the streets. One opting for the dictator tract, ruthlessly acquiring power and subduing opposition to forge his “better world”.

IF KANE FAILS TO TAKE OVER DETROIT, WHAT DOES HE LOSE?

Obviously power. Deep down, Kane is afraid of being that powerless kid on the street. He NEVER wants to return to his old life.

Which is why Kane can’t allow the citizens to control their own lives. In his mind, freedom is just another word for everything to lose. Freedom leads to chaos, collapse, and ruin – just like in Old Detroit. He needs the power to control everything, make all the decisions, and ensure people dictate their lives by his singular vision.

And nothing poses a bigger threat to his power than the existence of Motorcity. If he fails to conquer that subterranean, freedom flaunting rat-hole, the roots of liberty could take hold and spread like noxious weeds through his precious Deluxe. Not to mention, those scumbag Burners will continue attacking Kane’s Deluxian tree at its roots, dismantling the future city’s underground power stations and infrastructure.

WHAT DO PEOPLE IN MOTORCITY FEEL ABOUT MIKE AND THE BURNERS?

Most citizens view Mike and The Burners as heroes. But there are some who see them as punk delinquents whose Kane-agitating antics bring unnecessary hardship on their neighborhoods.

Motorcity is also home to other Revolutionaries; rivals who believe the Burners are getting in the way of their plans. Or think Mike’s tactics are too soft – they are particularly disturbed by the fact that he considers the well–being of Deluxians when crafting plots to stop Kane.

WHAT DO DELUXIANS FEEL ABOUT MIKE AND THE BURNERS? WHAT DO THEY FEEL ABOUT KANE?

Though most of the people in KaneCo Deluxe are not truly happy with what Kane has provided, they don’t dare say so. Most of them fall in line and accept things the way they are. Anyone who sympathizes with the Burners does so privately, unless they have a death wish. And on the opposite side of the issue are a few who, like Claire, seem to have been duped by Kane’s promises and slick presentation.

WHAT DO PEOPLE IN MOTORCITY FEEL ABOUT KANE?

The consensus in Motorcity is that Abraham Kane is a real *%$#!

But as Motorcity isn’t exclusively populated by the morally upright, there are some who would be more than happy to sell-out to Kane for special privileges or payment.

HOW WILL WE SHOW THAT LIFE IS GOOD FOR DELUXIANS?

Citizens of KaneCo Deluxe receive three square meals a day, state of the art living quarters, and a steady job that’s guaranteed not to be outsourced. There’s no traffic. No crime. No poverty. What’s not to like?!

HOW WILL WE SHOW THAT LIFE IS BAD FOR DELUXIANS?

The three square meals are pre-selected by KaneCo, and usually consist of unappetizing fare like “throat cubes”. The living quarters are more like drab prison cells. And the jobs are, well… pretty much slavery. Workers are expected to report to work whenever the KANECO CHIME is heard. (Much like a prison siren or the school bell between periods.) Everything is scheduled. Everything is controlled. You don’t have a say.

WHAT OTHER “NON-TOOLEY” ALLIES DOES KANE HAVE ON HIS TEAM?

Kane is constantly surrounded by henchmen and hangers-on, some of whom have their own secret agendas in mind:

There’s a “Dutiful Sycophant” who laughs at his jokes and kisses his butt, but is secretly vying to take him down and seize control of Deluxe. A deadly, ubertalented “Teenage Assassin” who seems even more driven than Kane to wipe out Mike and The Burners. And we’ll introduce others as our season progresses…

ANY ONE ELSE INTERESTED IN “THE BATTLE FOR DETROIT”?

There are some unsavory characters lurking in the bowels of the city, but none more devilish than the DUKE OF DETROIT. A crime-boss of sorts, his only interest in the Battle For Detroit is figuring out how he can spin it to his advantage. The Duke has his sights set on extending his influence in Motorcity. And he sees Mike as a valuable tool – aligning himself with the rebel hero could score him big PR points with the people.

On the other hand, the cutthroat Duke is no dummy. He knows Mike’s moral code could really interfere with his plans. So from time to time, he’ll do what it takes to keep the kid in line – which sometimes means allying himself with Kane. After all, in the end, the Duke’s only real allegiance is to himself.

There are also other interested parties and forces at work outside of the domed Deluxe that we can weave in and out of the seasons as we progress. Rival CEOs, Criminals, and Shadow Organizations that attempt to lend support to Mike’s cause in hopes of accomplishing their own agendas.

HOW DOES KANE WAGE HIS WAR AGAINST MOTORCITY?

Primarily with brutal force, terrifying technology, and fear. He has an endless army of Robots at his disposal that he unleashes daily to bombard Motorcity. He has a seemingly infinite arsenal of wicked ways to stick it to the people. But his horrifying laboratory creations usually present the biggest challenge for our heroes and the poor citizens. Like the time he pumped an ever-expanding, flesheating Sulfuric-Acid Foam Gel into Motorcity, a concoction designed to rapidly dissolve all living, organic material. Yikes!

Sometimes Kane is so blinded by his thirst for power that he pursues incredibly risky plots that end up putting himself and all of Detroit in danger. Like when he forces his R&D lab into morally unconscionable territory in the hopes of creating the ultimate Attack-Bot, and ends up creating a hybrid bio-mechanical creature that promptly escapes and starts “cocooning” Motorcity and Deluxian citizens.

Kane often focuses his attention directly on our Burners, developing BurnerSeeking Death Drones, hiring bloodthirsty Bounty Hunters, or luring the rebels out of their underground lair by callously using citizens as bait.

Of course, The Burners aren’t just going to sit around waiting for Kane to unleash his latest plot. They’re always looking for ways to take the fight to his doorstep and destroy his plans before they get off the ground. Like when they attempt to infiltrate his top secret, insanely dangerous weapons factory with the help of Kane-Co Safe-T-Suits. Or when they smuggle out Kane’s top alternative-fuel physicist to avert nuclear-scale disaster.