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bubblegumspacebxtch · 2 years

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jealousy fic of reader seeing fez and lexi at the party and feeling jealous so trying to distract herself and fez gets jealous and it gets kinda heated and ahfjskjx confessions

A/N: hi!! so here's part 2 of Drunk, High, and Oblivious and it's based on this prompt so thank you to anon who sent it. i haven't written smut in a hot minute so hope ya'll like this one.

warnings || 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral (f), fingering (f), dirty talk, a smidge of degradation, praise kink, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, a bit of overstimulation, creampie

find part 1 here: Drunk, High, and Oblivious

Main Masterlist

Hungover and Lovesick

Fez looks up from his phone at the sound of your groan. The curtains on the glass windows facing you had not been entirely drawn, leaving a small gap for sunlight to stream in. You pull the blanket over your head to shield your eyes from the bright light. "Good morning," Fez calls from the dining table. You only grumble in response. He stands to fully close the curtains before making his way to the couch, sitting down by your feet. "How you feelin'?" You peel the blanket off your face to see his lips in a shy smile. “Terrible.” You rub your eyes as you sit up. “I’ll get you water.” Fez stands to get you a glass while you look around, noticing how quiet it was. “Where’s Ash?” You take the drink off of his hand. “He’s at the store," Fez replies as he settles across from you.

It was awkward. You both could tell. The two of you silently going over the events of last night in your heads. Fez cleared his throat, catching your attention. “Do you need anything? For uh your headache or something,” he trailed off. He can’t seem to keep eye contact for longer than 3 seconds. You take note of him scratching the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his. “No. I’m good. I think I need to shower though.” You grimace because you were still in last night’s party dress. “For sure. Let me get you some clothes." Fez stands to head to his room. You're up on your feet right after him to make your way to where the towels were. At this point, their place might as well be yours too, with the amount of time you've spent there.

Fez kept pretending to be doing something on his phone, but really he couldn't drown out the sound of the shower. He was uneasy, already dreading the conversation you'd be having about the party. Fez knew why he was mad last night, and while there was no excuse for him manhandling you, he also knew he didn't have the right to be upset in the first place. He wasn't your boyfriend. You were just friends. As much as he tried to remind himself, Fez couldn't deny that you've been more than a friend to him for months now. There were times he'd take the stares that lasted a few seconds too long or the lingering touches and smiles, as signs that you liked him too. Still, he couldn't bring himself to initiate anything.

When he was young, his grandma told him, "Don't ever fall in love. It's the one instinct you can't trust." It was hard to follow that advice with you around. You who never judged him. The only person other than Ash to come running whenever he needed help. It wasn't hard to fall for you. Your laugh that he swears is actually contagious. The way you carry yourself with enough kindness to warm anyone. Your hugs, and your occasional sass, all the little things Fez has grown fond of. It wasn't like he didn't want to be with you, because he did. He was held back by the gnawing thought that you were too good for him. "Hey," you call out to him softly. "You okay?" Fez was lost in thought he didn't notice you were already dressed, and staring at him from across the living room. "Yeah uh all good." You smile at him as you made your way to the couch.

A tense silence had settled between you two. You pick at your nails to avoid looking at Fez. "I'm sorry about last night." He blurts out which made you look up. "Shouldn't have dragged you out of there like I did." You nod slowly at his apology. "Why did you though?" Fez knew what you were trying to get at, and his brain scrambled for an answer. "Didn't want you to get taken advantage of, that's all." He saw your face drop. Fez knew you were giving him a chance to fess up, and still, like all the other times, he chose not to. "So, just a friend looking out for a friend?" You knew you were pushing, but after last night, you just couldn't take being friends with Fez anymore, especially if that meant watching him want to be with someone else.

Fez hesitantly nods at you, and your shoulders slump in response. "Right... okay. I think I need to go." You swiftly stand, making your way to his room to grab your things. Fez calls your name as he follows behind. You ignore him because you already felt like crying. "C'mon Y/N, I-" you cut him off. "Fez just stop, alright?" You pause, still hesitant to blatantly tell him how you feel, but you couldn't take it anymore. "You don't... see me that way. I get it, and it's okay." You swallow down your tears. "I just need space right now, so please." You turn around to make your way out the door, but Fez blocks you, leaving you no choice but to gaze up at him.

Looking at you on the verge of tears, Fez wanted to kick himself. He felt dread settle in his chest. By the looks of it, he was going to lose you. Without thinking, Fez grabbed your wrist to pull you close before leaning down to plant his lips on yours. You're taken aback, and you raise your free hand to push at his chest. "Fez, what-" You didn't get to finish. "I love you." His admission was quiet, but even with the loud beating of your heart in your chest, you heard him.

Everything turned into a blur after that. The two of you not wasting another second. Months of tension and obvious yearning had led to this. You helped Fez out of his shirt as you sat at the end of his bed. He cupped the side of your face before kissing you again. The clear desperation making you moan into him. "You don't know how much I wanted to fuck you last night in that dress." You whimpered as he squeezed your breast through your shirt. "And now you're in my clothes. Fuck, Y/N I swear, the things you do to me," You felt yourself clench at his words. His stare sent goosebumps through you, looking like he wants to ruin you. You rid yourself of his shirt, and Fez groaned above you. He pushed you to lie down further on the bed. Fez kneels in between your legs before bending to kiss down your chest. You feel his breath on the sensitive skin of your tits, and you moan as he sucks one into his warm mouth. His tongue laps at your nipples, and your hand reaches out to grab his head when you feel his teeth lightly graze you skin. "Please," you whisper as Fez kisses downward, slowly pulling your bottoms off.

You close your eyes briefly, and for a moment you feel his touch leave you. When you open your eyes, you see Fez staring at your center. Oh, god. Fuck. He's going to tear you apart. Fez grabs an ankle in each hand before you could even think about closing your legs. Spreading you wider for him, Fez leans down to leave kisses on your inner thigh. You squirm at the act, feeling even more wetness gush out of you. His thick finger runs through your pussy, barely brushing your clit. Your legs instinctively try to close at the sensation. Fez brings his palm down to slap your thigh. "Open up." His voice was deep, almost like a growl, and you writhed under his demand. You spread yourself wide again. You let out a surprised whine as Fez spits on your cunt before bringing his fingers to spread it all over your slit. "Please, Fez I-" you stutter at his thumb rubbing your clit. "What do you want, baby? Tell me." Fez wanted to take his time with you, but your begging was making him impatient. "I want... I want your mouth," you answer in a shuddery breath, turning your head to side shyly.

Fez dips down to lick a stripe up your pussy. Your moan is loud, and Fez couldn't help but smirk. His lips close around your clit, sucking harshly on the bundle of nerves. "Fez! Fuck." You arch, making Fez lightly press down on your abdomen to keep you in place. He pushes a finger into your opening while he continues to lap at your cunt. Fez moaned into you as you clenched around his fingers, dripping down his chin in the process. A tingle spreads as Fez curls his digit, hitting a spot in you that made you yelp. You feel your orgasm approaching, and the lewd sound of your soaked pussy made Fez smirk. Just last night you were acting up, now, as he fervently eats you out, you're put in your place.

Fez grunts as you come suddenly, surprising him. He works you through your orgasm, lapping at your core till you're pushing his head away. Fez withdraws to watch you catch your breath. You look up at him, eyes glassy, and mouth parted. In no time, Fez was lowering himself again between your thighs. "One more. Give me another." Fez grumbles, and before you could protest, he's going down on you again. “Fez!” You squeal, and he slaps your clit in return. You feel Fez push in two fingers. It was overwhelming, but even as your mind blanks, your hips grind down against his tongue. Your orgasm comes quicker than the first one. You let out a scream as you squirt. “Already?” You couldn’t see Fez, but you knew he had a smug smirk across his face. Fez licks up all your release before bringing his fingers up to your lips. You suck on them, and you avert your eyes from his as he watches his fingers on your tongue.

Fez removes the rest of his clothes, and your eyes go wide at his cock. You did think he was big, you just didn't know he was that big. Your heart pounds against your chest as Fez strokes himself above you. "Gonna make you feel so good, baby." Fez leans down to kiss you before you feel his tip slide against your folds, gathering your wetness before pressing in. "Fuck, you're tight." You clench at his praise, and Fez moans as he starts moving his hips. There's a slight burn to the stretch, but Fez has stroked that spot inside that had you throwing your head back. You grab his shoulders to pull him closer, kissing him as he thrusts into you.

As your moans get louder, Fez drives into you faster, hitting deeper spots. "Fez... Fuck! Please I'm gonna cum." His fingers start to rub harshly against you swollen clit. Your legs start to shake as he brings you to the edge. "Fuck. Look at you." Fez drawls out and you preen at his admiration. "You like when I fuck you stupid?" What the fuck happened to the shy Fez you knew? You didn't know he had a mouth on him.

He grabs your tits in his hands, squeezing them as you go dizzy. He starts slamming into you, heat sweeping through you as you come undone again. Your cum spurts out, soaking the sheets underneath you. You clench hard one more time around his thick cock, and you tremble as Fez unloads deep in you. He groans as his cum seeps into you, and you whimper as you feel his length throb against your walls. His final thrust have you mewling. Feeling overstimulated, you can't help but wince when Fez pulls out. Fez wordlessly stands to find something to clean you up with. Your eyes try to refocus as you desperately try to even your breathing. You gasp as you feel Fezco's hands on you again, wiping off his cum and yours.

He fixes your limp body to lean against his side as he lies down on the bed. With your legs tangled together, and your cheek against his chest, the silence is comfortable. "I meant what I said," Fez mumbles, feeling shy once again. You nod. "I know you did." You feel Fez let out a deep exhale. "No more dancing around assholes at parties," Fez jokes, and you smile before moving to lean on your elbows to face him. "Fez, were you jealous?" you tease. "No more than you, baby." Fez smirks as you blush. You slap his chest as he laughs. "Shut up. I wasn't jealous," you defend. "Sure you weren't." He smiles again before leaving a kiss on your head. "Ash is for sure gonna rub it on our faces and say he told us so," you say. "Well, it ain't his fault we're idiots," You laugh, and Fez pulls you tighter against him, sighing in complete bliss.

part 2 taglist below:

@rainybookstorepoetry

@thecraziestcrayon

@just-stupid-stuff

@sinnerluh

#fezco #fezco x reader #fezco smut #fezco imagine #fezco angst #fez imagine #fezco euphoria #euphoria imagines #euphoria #euphoria s2 #angus cloud

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saphirered · 2 years

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Oooo could you do one with Caleb and his S/O who performs at the Lavish Chateau and is kinda an older sister figure to Jester? Maybe they incorporate spell casting into their performances so when they find out Jester has a new wizard friend they're like "teach me ur secrets magic man"

Oh boy I haven't written for Caleb in a hot minute! Hope you enjoy this lil angsty magic man!

The blue tiefling had been bouncing up and down ever since her mother announced someone would be visiting that day. Caleb didn’t really feel the need to pry in Jester’s private life but when he asked who this would be and how the Lavorre family came to know this mysterious visitor he knew he made a mistake and readied himself for his ears to be talked off his head. Thank the gods that the Ruby herself noticed, like she hardly misses anything and saved him from the never ending barrage of stories about this person who’d been slowly adopted into the Lavish Chateau family.

There were some dubious and outright questionable sides to the story and the involvement of this ‘older sibling’ but long story short; you’re a performer, much like the Ruby of the Sea, in your early adulthood you found yourself in some nasty circumstances and Jester brought you in, you worked off your self acclaimed debt by waiting tables until you revealed your performance skills and from there on you found yourself enjoying the life style of your particular niche of entertainment, you stuck with the Lavorres and became as good as one of their own.

Most importantly to Caleb, he’d have to prepare himself for another outsider to enter this bubble. You’d been invited to perform in Port Damali at some Maquis’ palace so that shows you have decently high up connections. That makes you a potential risk to him. You’re unpredictable and there isn’t much more he can learn about you save for what he hears from Jester or by asking around but that only leads him to know your performer’s side. It’s no different than the roles he was taught to take, despite his being of political values for the sake of what his master sought to teach him, actors are actors one way or another and when there were hints of you using some kind of arcane abilities in your performances the alarm bells in his head started ringing. He has to be on guard.

“The Nicodranian Mirage has returned”, those are the whispers that fill the streets when the Nein are out shopping for supplies and wandering the streets of Nicodranas aimlessly. Jester makes sure to rush them all back to the Chateau, even more excited than before and when they do, there’s a line formed a the entrance, people are gathering to, assumably catch a glimpse of this Nicordranian Mirage. When the tiefling girl said you were both popular and well-loved Caleb ma have underestimated her definition of such. This-this is ridiculous. Your long awaited return has certainly drawn a crowd. Nevertheless Jester pushes her way through, the Nein in tow much to the chagrin of the disgruntled customers and secures a table.

Caleb is left in awe. The Lavish Chateau looks like an alternate reality. Yes, it is still recognisable as the Chateau where once stood beams supporting the structures and upper level balcony, now vines of colourful flowers have been wrapped around; the carvings brought to life. The scent previously a nice incense and candle-wax has turned to that of a forest. He swears he can see wildlife scurry along the beams. The floor appears to be covered in a layer of grass sprouting wildflowers in a trail that lead to the foot of the stairs. Civilised structures meet nature in a symphony. People are being let in and take up tables at the front but Jester with the help of the bouncer fend them off from the front and centre one. That one is reserved for the Nein.

Before he knows it the tavern is filled. People wait in anticipation whispering among themselves all unanimously fall silent, seemingly experience the same feeling; awareness, shivers down their spine, somewhat akin to a lover’s breath at their neck beckoning them to safety and comfort. Lights dim.

“Open your mind. The Mirage will guide you home.” The whisper sounds as enthralling as it is ominous. For but a second Caleb considers he alone heard it, as it seemed so close but others did too, and looking around no one but his friends is there. No invisible creatures either. The customers seem thrilled, but some of the Nein appear most spooked. Jester did not exactly give them the best briefing and their previous experience with anything that messes with their minds or perception of reality has left them less than willing to indulge into some kind of mind-altering effects. Though, given the circumstances and Caleb feels the gentle presence push against his own mind, waiting, signalling its ready to pull back, as lacking any threat, despite his better judgement. Jester waits in anticipation. They look to him for guidance. He’s their resident magic expert after all and this is about as arcane as it gets. He gives them a gentle but hesitant nod and allows the presence to enter his mind.

At first nothing seems to change. A glowing butterfly dallies down from the balcony and floats towards the Nein’s table. It dances around them until it circles Jester, lands on her nose as the tiefling giggles and it moves to the centre of the table. There it sits. All eyes turn to them and Caleb finds himself falling into old habits, shrinking within himself as much as possible, stay out of sight as much as one can be in the centre of the room. The silence is deafening. The tension is growing and then- in a burst of butterflies, explodes a figure. Gracefully standing on your tiptoes, one hand curled towards the roof the other twisting and turning at the wrist and fingers dancing. Fine silks are draped across your body leaving little to the imagination, yet still give you a sense of modesty with a comfort and ease; a skilled performer at ease with their act and audience. You are entirely in your element with a smile plastered on your face. The butterflies dance around you as you meet the eyes of every single one of them, even offer Jester a wink.

“It appears we have newcomers. Prepare for a story, my friends.” Gracefully you step off the table. Caleb can’t help but follow your movements. You look ethereal. like you’re not entirely there but you are. You turn to face the crowd once you reach the foot of the stairs. A wave of the hand and fiddle appears in your grasp and so your performance truly begins. You play the melody well, both haunting and beautiful. Caleb may not be a musical prodigy nor hold much knowledge on the subject he didn’t need to. The environment moved with your play; the song a tragedy. The flowers blossomed the false sunlight bleeding through what canopy you created, turning dark, a gentle breeze turning to a cold wind. The light disappears and becomes distorted, he swears he feel rain even though the droplets don’t stick to his skin. Thunder, a beat like a drum falls in with your melody, and then you let go of the fiddle, the instrument playing itself. You sing, as you move and dance around the tavern, your step graceful and light, barely touching the floor at all. You play with your audience like a professional; you are, Caleb reminds himself. Only a fool would not find themselves enthralled by you.

“I once was a child, playful and loved.” You sing as you let your fingers dance across Jester’s shoulder. She smiles brightly at you as you study the company. You make eye contact with the redhead among them, you breathe, keep his gaze as you reach for the scruffy cheek, slowly. For some reason you’re not entirely sure if you should or not, something telling you to be wary, perhaps it’s the man’s energy. Something arcane lingers around him. When he doesn’t seem to object and invite your touch, to an extend be that out of sheer curiosity or something else entirely as you don’t think you have him enthralled the way you have your clients or the patrons here.

“Now I suffer for the heart I lost,

I sing the song of thunder and rain,

for my love knows only pain,

His eyes are blue, stare right through,

I’ve forgotten what it’s like,

My love, my sweet, my bright mind.”

You have to stop yourself from staying too long but every so often through out your performance and even after a change of song you find yourself gravitating back towards that friend of Jester’s. You can’t really put a finger to it. You suppose he’s handsome and as you’ve gathered before he has some kind of magical presence to him but you don’t fully think that’s it. There’s pain in his eyes but so there is wonder and bewilderment, there’s kindness and love. There’s so much more to him than meets the eye. Your usual clients might be conventionally pretty but you’ve never put much value to looks. You’ve never experiences yourself gravitating towards someone so naturally. Sure you might have had your crushes but that’s not it. Any sort of desire to know this person transcends what one might deem attraction, or just simply the desire to screw someone and move on. This is not it, nor is it romantic attraction. This feels like you could have known each other as children but then separated and meet again decades later. There’s a sense of familiarity despite you being sure you’ve never met before this very moment. And so you force yourself to continue. You’ve got a job to do. You’ve got an appointment after with yet another client who’s missed your presence on your time away. At least it should provide you distraction for the night.

————

Hours passed since the performance. Jester had tried to see if you’d be available for the night to meet her friends but that would have to wait until breakfast it seems. Your work didn’t end after your performance and when Jester failed to keep her innuendos to herself Caleb couldn’t help but find himself blushing. He doesn’t know why. This is not a subject he feels particularly shy about. If anything his somewhat frequent ventures to the Chastity’s Nook should be proof enough alone. He simply can’t fend you out of his mind even though the illusions within the tavern have been dispelled; beautiful display of arcane abilities he commented, only for Jester to end up playing wingwoman to you despite you not being there. The tiefling thinks the two of you would make an amazing couple and while she’s well aware your occupation comes with the lack of a lover unless they are a well kept secret or it might ruin your reputation as a courtesan, she still tries. The girl has a tendency to play matchmaker. Caleb trying to be reasonable gently tries to convince her that he’s not spoken a word to you, and the most interaction he’s had with you had been eye contact during your performance but that doesn’t seem to dissuade the tiefling from her latest one true pairing. So Caleb simply ordered another drink.

But then one by one the Nein headed off to bed and so did he. Still he lied awake staring at the ceiling, his mind providing the phantom images of a canopy of bleeding sunlight turning to clouds and thunder, ghosts of raindrops hitting his skin; his mind stuck somewhere between awake and sleeping yet not asleep. Not truly. His mind refuses to rest and so he quietly makes his way out of his room. It’s not too early in the morning, he knows but the bar’s closed and Carlos should be cleaning up and closing shop at this hour. The halls are quiet as he makes his way downstairs in search of something to drink and a change of scene away from the others.

You sit at the bar, robe on, costume discarded and exchanged for comfortable breathy night clothes fitted for the Nicodranian weather. You’d been falling half asleep but you wanted to finish this work before you called it night. Your appointment turn a bit more time consuming than initially thought but at least you’d be handsomely compensated for your extra hours. Might finally save up enough for that one special scroll you’d been trying to acquire and with your new contact in Port Damali that would be easier but still came at a steep price no matter your charm. You feel that familiar soothing presence enter the tavern, from the top of the stairs. A quick glance over your shoulder goes unnoticed but gives you enough of a glimpse; exhausted but still unable to sleep. Shirt crumpled from the tossing and turning, hair too despite it being pulled back, if anything it’s made it worse, shoes half laced up and pant legs unevenly stuffed in the shoes have ridden up from a seated position but no effort to readjust them has been made for lack of care or awareness.

Caleb’s breath catches when he sees you seated there at the bar, back turned towards him. You’re bend over a book and papers, the ink marks on the side of your palm appear clearly when you stretch your arms above your head and crack your fingers with a deep sigh. The barkeep fills your empty glass before he returns to cleaning the last of the glasses, placing them back where they belong. The barkeeper makes eye contact with Caleb, mutters something and takes the final freshly cleaned glass, fills it and puts it in front of him at the bar right when Caleb approaches with caution.

“You look like you need it.” Carlos speaks. “Turn off the lights once you’re done?” He adds to you specifically. The gesture you return along with a mumble as your focus remains on the work in front of you, can only be interpreted as an affirmation and goodnight. It appears to be enough for the barkeep who bids Caleb good night and heads off to find his own bed and sleep for a while. Your return caused quite a busy night and while the Chateau was definitely well prepared, that doesn’t mean the work is easy. Caleb takes the drink from the bar and is about to leave you to your work when you straighten your spine.

“You’re welcome to stick around, magic man.” You say with a light tease. Any tension or hesitation Caleb might have had within him dissipates. Any social awkwardness or desire to avoid if not limit any social interaction falls away. He feels at ease and while he searches his mind for some kind of mental effects, trickery or other ways that might influence his perception of reality and thought, he finds none. His curiosity pushes him to agree and so he takes a seat. You turn in yours to face him better.

“So Jester tells me you’re a practitioner of the arcane. Not many of those around here. Usually they’re just passing through or have ulterior motives for their presence.” You pry gently and if Caleb wasn’t trained like he was, he might have let it slide as innocent curiosity, especially given your easygoing expression lacking any sense of suspicion or inquisitiveness.

“You’re much more intelligent than you let people believe.” Caleb speaks before he thinks; that’s a rare thing but you push forth that young man he once was. It’s hard to come to terms with the fact he feels himself slip into old habits he’s tried so hard to bury. And thus he might have sounded defensive if not outright hostile. You appear unaffected.

“And you seem as intelligent as you present yourself. Know exactly what you’re capable of yet you still lack social confidence. Choice or trauma?” Caleb doesn’t even know how to reply. “Ooh, interesting. The latter it is.” Subconsciously Caleb pulls at the sleeve of his shirt and snorts. He finishes his drink and gets up to leave.

“Wait. Stop. I’m terrible at this.” You sigh, Caleb can’t really believe it. You? You radiate confidence in your performances. How could you be as socially inept as he is? Then his mind reminds him; he didn’t used to be. He has the skills; learned to deceive, put forth an appearance, but without the act, he is as he is. You’ve simply dropped your mask. He gets it now. Another thing you have in common. He takes a closer glance at your notes, or rather what he realises are the pages of spell-work. You’re transcribing a spell and seem to be struggling to get it right. The scroll you’re working from appears to be severely lacking. Filling in the gaps is no easy task he knows first hand but you do seem to have the knowledge and that’s not something just found or taught willy-nilly. Magic practitioners like he knows, like he is and by the looks of it, you might be too, are not just a rarity but a danger. Alarm bells ring in his head.

“Where did you learn this?” He asks. Suspicion begins to rise within him, a force of habit but everything within him tells him he has no reason to be suspicious of you. Though the more he wallows within your warmth, the more he feels like an imposter, like he’s tarnishing the beauty that’s your arcane aura, corrupting and twisting it. He sees the mistake in your work.

“I was found to possess a talent for illusory magics as a child. I was taught the basics before I decided the life set out for me by the ones who would call them my masters did not suit me and I ran. I’ve been getting back into practice recently, beyond rudimentary use that is but as you might be able to relate, learning on your own without reliant access to resources is not exactly easy.” You explain, not wishing to delve too deeply in your own past. Caleb notices. He appreciates you answering truthfully no less. Perhaps you two are more similar than you’d both like to admit, if only to bury the pains of your pasts.

“You’re using ancient runes. Using Naudiz for escape would be fine in rudimentary practice but for this particular use you’ll be better off using Raido for journey instead as the spell settles on movement first and foremost and escape second. May I?” Caleb knows the spell well. He has it within his collection himself. It’s served him well in the past and while his own way of transcribing spells might be different from yours, he understands it. Same language, just a dialect. He likes a challenge when it comes to arcane magic after all and learning more is always on his agenda. With that small alteration you work through, readjust and with Caleb’s oversight you quickly fill in the gaps you were missing, mistakes you had perviously made and get it right. Your laugh sounds like music to his ears when you clap your hands together in success.

“I could kiss you right now! Thank you, Caleb.” There’s admiration and joy in your eyes; a thing he once expressed to as a student and in rare moments still does, though not without some modicum of guilt. There’s beauty in the sharing of knowledge but he knows the warmth in his chest; not a burning blaze but instead a warming campfire; he knows that comes from having this arcane knowledge once used for destruction and ruin, finds a good heart, the passing on what he was taught or taught himself in this case, to another. He takes satisfaction in teaching. With a wave of your hand a book appears between your fingers. With another, thread, needles and other tools appear on the bar and you take to binding your pages. The two of you sit there, Caleb watching you work as you carry easy laidback conversation. Nothing too personal, old habits do die hard but none of it is bothersome. You appear to be on the same page.

“How about a trade, magic man? You show me yours I show you mine?” He raises an eyebrow. Caleb dares not consider the innuendo as anything more than a joke as you’ve proven through this entirety of the conversation but when you offer him your spellbook he hesitantly reaches for his. He holds it in his hands, looks at you, back to the book, back to you again and then places it on the bar, sliding it over to you. He takes yours and with great care leafs through the pages as you do through his. He loses track of the contents of your own spellbook, staying on the pages longer than he would usually need to, and watches your glee at the magic contained within the weathered pages, the notes and studies of his own, and so much more. He gets lost in your curiosity and desire to learn more.

Caleb is so caught up he doesn’t notice some of your spells. He doesn’t notice, until he catches you flip to a certain page and in his own thoughts he’d entirely forgotten the forbidden magic that book contains. Your lips part, a silent breath as your eyes focus on that page, the geometric sigils and in a moment Caleb’s defences go up, he takes the book from your hands and closes it and holds it with a death grip. You didn’t try to stop in but that hint of hurt at his mistrust is no surprise, though, it does make him feel guilty for being the cause of it.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t my place. I’d forgotten how guarded mages tend to be over their knowledge. I shouldn’t have asked. ” You apologise as you take your own spellbook from the bar. There’s a deafening silence and Caleb can’t help but feel his ears ringing, blood pulsing through his head like a heartbeat as worry strikes him. You get to your feet book clutched to your chest.

“I’m a professional keeper of secrets. I won’t spill yours, if that is what you’re worried about. Though, I’d recommend being careful when using that magic out side of the Dynasty. The low level tricks like mine go unnoticed by outsiders. The ones in your collection, rarely do.” You speak, regret audible in your voice. “Oh and you might want to change clothes if you’re staying for a few days. The Marquis will be having representatives of the Empire over. Goodnight.” You scurry off, keeping your head low. The confidence you exerted is all but gone and you seem a little less radiant than he’s seen you. You reach the base of the steps.

“I’m sorry.” Caleb says. He doubts he was loud enough yet still there seems to be some registration of his words as your shoulders tense and you take a deep breath.

“So am I.” The whisper is barely audible but it’s heart wrenching and in that moment the glee and joy that came from teaching another, from bonding with a fellow mage, and one that might have shared some similar hardships, fizzles. It’s self preservation he tells himself but he can’t help but feel he’s ruined it. He’s ruined his chances of something good yet again. He’s ruined your chances of friendship by his own stupidity. Perhaps there’s a chance to salvage it but there’s always a risk of breaking something beyond repair. Hopefully he’ll come around and hopefully he’ll get over himself. So he spends the rest of the night arguing with himself. Then at sunrise, the light comes. Ink and paper, from his collection, he copies the pages from his own spellbook. Something that aligns with the spells he did see in your collection, something he’d think would be useful to you and something that would make one hell of an apology for his bullshit.

The Lavish Chateau begins waking, though it’s early morning hours and none of his friends are up and about, the morning shift is preparing for breakfast when he finishes and heads up. He finds himself standing in front of your door. Does he knock? Does he hand you the stack of papers and leave? Does he say anything? Or does he just leave them at your doorstep and hopes you’ll accept them. That’s stupid. You’re probably still asleep. He knocks lightly, enough not to wake you up if you’re asleep but just audible if you’re not. No response. He listens for a second and then gives up. The courage leaves him and he sets the freshly written spell on the floor at your doorstep; apology note to you on top in sight. Caleb turns and walks away, back towards his room down the hall. He casts one last look over his shoulder before he enters his room.

What Caleb doesn’t notice is the door to your room opening with a light creak. You poke your head out but see not but a closing door to the room you know had been assigned to the wizard. On the ground you see a neatly collected stack of papers with a letter on top, addressed to you. You pick it up. That’s one hell of an apology. A smile returns to your face as you read over the spell copy with a collective of personal notes and instructions one wouldn’t find in a textbook or regular scroll. This was tailored specifically to you. This was chosen for you. Thought and consideration went in to this more than you’ve ever had someone do for you and so your morning starts working on this new spell. With the written help from this magic man you easily transcribe the piece and after find yourself with some more time before breakfast. In turn you begin copying one of your own spells. Geometric designs show the ways to small pocket spaces, you’ve used them to store your spellbook, summon the violin and so on.

When you’re finished, gotten ready for the day and exit your room you see Caleb, groggily eyed but dressed if not somewhat scraggy, in the hall. You make eye contact and by the looks of it it seems he half expected you to turn away, glare at him or even run. When you don’t and instead walk towards him he freezes. You stop in front of him, take the pages you had prepared and hand them to him. Unsure how to respond verbally Caleb accepts your gesture. Your eyes show nothing of deception or ulterior motives. Instead they exert warmth and compassion. You step away and with a smile towards him you beckon him along. Caleb stares down at the note atop the papers.

Your secret is safe with me, magic man.

#critical role x reader #mighty nein x reader #caleb x reader #caleb widogast x reader #critrole x reader #critical role fanfic #critical role fanfiction #critical role imagine #critical role #mighty nein #caleb widogast #critical role x y/n

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henry-and-the-seven-lords · 3 years

Text

Hello @gluttonousfruit you are in fact my first request. (I did not forget about you in moving my blog.) I am super excited to have anyone ask me to write something! Also I would love to be friends! Feel free to message me through asks or in private DMs! I hope you enjoy the imagine!

Warnings: Fluff with a small amount of angst because Levi doubts himself 😞

Brothers Masterlist | Dateables Masterlist

Levi with an Animator S/O

"Okay MC, I know we just finished 'Swimming Only Leads to Hot Mermaids,' but I was thinking since we are already watching otomes, we should watch another series that everyone is recommending online!" Levi says this as he begins to pull out one DVD and place in another while bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excited puppy.

"I guess I could watch one more series, but it better be a good one. Sure the mermaids were attractive, but there wasn't much of a plot." MC says with a yawn. A quick look over to the clock, and it reads 11:48 PM in a blinding blue light. Not too late for one of Levi's normal bingefests, but a little too late for MC when they have classes tomorrow.

"No, I promise this one is good. Everyone is talking about the art style. They say it is so original that it's captivating." Levi walks to the small futon briskly and plops himself down next to MC as he continues to ramble about the art. His voice slowly trails off as the opening begins to play.

As the music fills MC's ears, they perk up and a small smile appears on their face. "Levi, could this perhaps be, 'I Went to Hell For a Weekend and Got Stuck in a Love Heptagon with Seven Incubi'?"

Levi faces MC in shock. The look on their face is quite smug. (In all seriousness, it reminds Levi of Mammon when he wins poker, but he doesn't want to be think about his brother while looking at MC. So he pushes that thought away.) This anime came out only the day before their bingefest. And even then, Levi had this copy pre-ordered for this very occasion and it arrived before any stores were selling physical copies. There is no way a normie like MC could have heard about its release. Does this mean MC isn't such a normie after all?

"You heard of this show already?" The surprise in his voice was impossible to hide.

"Yeah, I have heard of it." MC smiles and chuckles quietly, "I have never actually seen it, but I have heard the opening quite a few times."

"Oh..." Levi sighs. He was so stupid. Of course MC had heard the opening. It is all over his Devilgram and they were on their phone for part of the last show, so they obviously just heard it on there. Levi deflates looking solemn. It was just a pipe dream that MC would ever be interested in his yucky otaku interests.

"Hey! There is no reason to be all sad just because I know the name of the show. I still haven't seen the whole thing. My first time watching will still be with you Levi, isn't that special enough?" The smile on MC's face seemed sincere enough, but the words that came out of their mouth made blood rush up to Levi's cheeks. Their first... did they really mean to say it like that?...

As thoughts begin to flood Leviathan's head the show began. It was true the art style was captivating. So captivating in fact, that he forgot about his embarrassment. But MC's words still lingered in his mind as he watched the show.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Well, I am dead tired." MC stands cracking their aching joints as they look at the clock. 2:37 AM. It was that late already? "I think I need to head to bed Levi. I have classes in the morning and I need at least a few hours of sleep."

"Are you sure?" Levi was just starting to enjoy MC's presence. At the beginning of the night, he was on edge trying to make everything perfect. Levi did want to mess up by being a yucky Otaku and give them a reason to leave him all alone. But as the night progressed, (and more snacks were consumed) he felt increasingly more comfortable with sharing his favorite shows with MC. "I have other shows we could watch to pass the time, or we could play this new game I got-"

MC walks over to Levi and gently sets their hands on his shoulders, "Games and anime are great, but what I need right now is sleep." MC watched as Levi's face filled with a blush and his eyes flashed with hurt. "I am not leaving because I am mad... or sad... or anything really. I just need to sleep, Leviathan." Their voice was barely above a whisper as they said his name. How could he disagree with them when they said his name like that; all the while, looking deep into his eyes. He felt like he could explode.

As MC turns away, the demon in question then sighs mutters a quiet "okay" under his breath. "Don't worry, Levi. This isn't the last time I will watch anime with you. I promise we can do another one of these when another new anime comes out." MC begins to pick up their things. A blanket they brought with them to keep warm in Levi's cold room and the rest of their human snacks. "Besides, I really liked that one, and I have heard they are already making season two." As they speak, MC makes their way across the room to the gigantic tank.

"Wait. How do you-"

"Good night Henry. Good night Levi." And with that, MC leaves. Closing the door behind them.

How did MC know about a second season? Even he, the Great Otaku Levi, has not heard about a season two on any forums or on any other website... After thinking about it, Levi suspects it's probably on Devilgram like the opening was. To prove his theory, he pulls out his D.D.D. and opens up Devilgram to the 'I Went to Hell For a Weekend and Got Stuck in a Love Heptagon with Seven Incubi' page. He scrolls through their posts and finds the opening, like he predicted, but what he didn't predict was their most recent post.

"This show would not have been possible without MC. Thank you for making such a great story and great art to go along with it!"

Levi reads the caption once, twice, thrice and is speechless. The photo for this post is none other than his MC standing with a hand drawn piece of the protagonist. He can even see their signature in the corner when he zooms in! He knew that they liked to draw, but he never thought they would make an anime.

Without thinking, Levi gets up and begins to run to MC's room. He needs to know that this isn't some sort of elaborate prank that MC and Satan brewed up to make him like a normie more.

The door to MC's room busts open, "MC!" The room is completely dark except for the light shining in through the doorway.

"Levi...? Is that you? Is something wrong?" MC's voice is soft and laced with sleep. If this were any other time, Levi would have screamed over their cuteness, but today he had a mission. He immediately marches up to the half asleep MC and promptly shoves his phone in their face.

"Did you make 'I Went to Hell For a Weekend and Got Stuck in a Love Heptagon with Seven Incubi'?" MC sits up and squints as their eyes adjust to the blinding screen and look at the post.

"Um... yeah. That's me isn't it?" Silence takes over the room, before Levi begins to scream.

"WAHHHHH! MC, why didn't you tell me!" Thankfully with the phone only being pointed at MC, they can't see the blush spreading across his face.

"Well, I didn't want you to treat me differently because I make anime." Laying back down as they speak, MC tucks a pillow under their head and looks up to where they guess Leviathan's face is. "Besides, I thought it was really cute how you were fanboying, and I didn't want you to stop because you knew you were in the presence of the creator." A small smile makes it's way on to MC's face as Levi feels his own get hotter.

Now covering his face, Levi quickly makes his way to the door while muttering, "You can't just say things like that..." As he begins to close the door, he pauses and opens it up again while looking back, "Can you tell me more about your show tomorrow, MC?" His voice sounds small compared to his previous scream.

"Of course Levi. We can talk for as long as you like."

#obey me requests #obeyme #obey me #levi #leviathan x mc #leviathan imagine #obey me leviathan #obey me levi x mc #obey me levi #fluff #obey me imagines #imagine #angst

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fabricated-misslieness · 3 years

Text

pairing: chūya nakahara x lazy male reader

req: yes | wc: 1.87k | cw: nsfw, size difference, praise kink, biting, blood, dirty talk, belly bulging | minors dni

anon: Hi! I was hoping I could get a smut for chuuya if you could make it kinda of a part two from the other chuuya fic u have and if u can could u add a size kink and a praise kink if so thank you so much!

a/n: you thought the demon was a himbo, ha!

"You know these don't tend to last long." You send the man pushing you against the wall a wink, making sure he knows you're still top. Chūya chuckles in response.

"I'm prepared for that." Chūya gives you a smirk. You don't know it, but he doesn't mean it. He hopes it is only your sheer amount of power that attracts him to you, but he knows it's not true. He really isn't that keen on having this be a one time thing. He rather it be a long, loving relationship, keep it lasting for as long as he can; if he has to teach you commitment, he will.

You raise an eyebrow for a minute, judging his composure. "Mkay.. good. You need me to lift you, though? You're quite a way down."

Chūya huffs and rolls his eyes. With you, he's heard something along those lines about a million times. He can't control his height and he certainly can't control yours. Jeez, it's as if you were a giant. If you and him stood next to each other, he'd look like a child, not that he was that much taller than a child anyway.

"Oh shut up with that… but yes." As much as he didn't want to admit it, even though it was very clear, he couldn't kiss you from 'all the way down there'.

"Thought so." It's the shit eating grin on your face that makes him regret this. "Hold on to the horns will ya? You'll need the support."

"Doesn't bother ya?" Chūya asks, doing so anyway. They feel rather tough, like how he imagined crocodile scales to feel. Your wings, on the other hand, weren't as he'd imagined them to be. They felt like leather, despite the fact they looked like rubber. He couldn't fathom how hot they'd be in summer.

You shake your head, in turn moving his arms. "Nah. Anyway, what do you think about the fangs?" You momentarily open your mouth wider to show him. "Would you rather I don't bite you or I do?" They're not as sharp as say, a vampire or a werewolf, but they could definitely puncture.

"Maybe test them first?" You know, what he meant was that you bite his finger, or something, not his neck. It definitely stung, but it hadn't punctured. He was sure if you hadn't controlled your strength, he'd bleed. He hissed at the pain. Though it was nothing he couldn't handle, you'd taken him by surprise.

"My bad, precious." That was a new nickname. "What do you think? Did you like it? No judge if you're into it." The mention of a biting link made him think of some past lover with said kink. It sort of made him jealous.

"What if I find your sweet spot? Would that persuade you?" You bite his neck, finding the spot that made him moan. "Knew it. They're usually there." He hated the way you rubbed your past lovers in his face. In time, he'd make you forget. He was sure of that.

"Well?"

"Okay.."

"Would you look at that?" Chūya couldn't focus on anything right now, the pleasure, and pain, was too much. You would pester him for how long he took to adjust for sure. "I'm balls deep in you and I can actually see it." He hadn't registered that first part until now.

He looked down to see his stomach clearly bulging. He laughed at the sight of it. You were really a giant, in more ways than one. It was kind of.. hot though. The size difference was already turning him on, at this point it was a lot.

"Sexy." You remark, licking your lips. If it weren't for your dick, he would want that tongue in him.. again. "Can you even talk right now?"

Chūya chuckles, fixing you with a playful look before pulling you down by the horns. "Of course I can." He whispers in your ear.

"Good." You move the slightest bit, though to him it felt more than that, which urges a moan from his throat. "Although I'd like to see you try when I fuck you with no mercy."

Chūya is flustered to no end, but as the competitive guy he is, he can't just back down, even with your dick inside of him. "Is that what you say to everybody? 'Fuck you with no mercy'? How about 'fuck you 'till you're begging for hell?'"

You smirk, shaking your head to mess with his arms. His hands were surely indented with the pattern of your horns by now. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Are you ready now?" You were going to nag him about the time, just like he'd predicted. "You've been sitting on it for so long you could call it cockwarming. But maybe you're into that, haven't discussed the deets just yet."

"What can I do?" You laugh. "Your dick is big, you said so yourself."

"Then the details. What do you like?"

"P-Praise." He's a little nervous to admit it, what with the fact he acts like a tough cookie. He had to build up some courage for this moment.

You shift a bit as you think about it. All of a sudden, you start moving slowly. It's still quite a bit painful for Chūya, but your praise makes up for it. "You're doing good, baby." Your rough voice along with the way you grip his hips with your claws sends chills down his spine. "Just a bit more."

You chuckle, toying with the idea in your mind. You thrust a bit more, barely even containing yourself with how horny you are, before stopping to ask. "Like that?"

He had bitten his lips to keep his moans from coming out; he'd nearly drawn blood "Yeah, yeah, just like that." If his eyes weren't shut so tightly he'd be so much more flustered by the look you're giving him.

"Think you're ready yet?" The impatience was clear in your voice.

"Mm, yeah."

Your thrusts are slow at first, as a precaution. It was a wonder how you hadn't started going fast, though. You'd been in him for so long without moving that the impatience and anticipation were building up.

"You can go faster now." You smile, but you don't speed up, which confuses him. He was sure you wanted more, so why didn't you give him more?

"How much faster?" It's only now that he realizes it's a cheeky grin.

Your sultry eyes seem to enchant him, making him unable to think properly; well, that and the thrusting. "I don't know."

"My terms, then." He doesn't like the sound of that. Luckily, you catch onto his uneasy look in time to reassure him, but your words don't do much. "Don't worry, you'll be just fine."

There's no warning after that. Your thrusts are quick and hard, just how you like them though only a little less than normal. After all, you'd gotten from, say, a 1 to a 7. Since when did you start calling your thrusts like a vibrator?

"You're doing good, baby!" He didn't know why, he did but he didn't know now, but he thought you'd sound more sarcastic.

His grip on your horns loosen and his arms feel weak. Just how vulnerable did you make him feel? He couldn't hold back from letting out a loud, high-pitched moan. It caused you to laugh, which he hated since he knew you were about to tease him. "High-pitched, just for me?"

He rolled his eyes at you, maybe a little bit because of pleasure, responding just as quick. "I mean you– oh! Holy shit!" He was interrupted by his own moans.

"What was that you were going to say?"

"Straying from– ah shit! Shit shit shit!" He repeated. That chuckle of yours made him realize you'd been hitting him hard on purpose to tease him. "Straying far from," He stops himself from moaning by biting his lips momentarily. "p-praise here."

You almost pout when he finishes his sentence, but you nod. "Right, sorry, precious~" You basically purr. “You’re taking my cock so well. Are you ready for more?”

“What?” You’d only just changed pace, so why would you- “Ah! Fuck me..” You hadn’t even given him time to answer, and you didn’t mean to either. This pace was the fastest, and roughest, Chūya had ever felt before, and god, did he love it. He could barely even form words, apart from curse words that were oh so familiar. The only thing that left his mouth were moans and he couldn’t even bite his lips.

“Mm, can’t talk anymore?” You weren’t really good at praise, were you? Well, it was new to you, since most of your lovers turned masochists at the sight of you. You didn’t make them, they just did. smug hoe

His arms, tired and a little sore, fall from your horns and grip your wings, which are wrapped around him. It causes you to hiss, but it’s a mere feeling in the back of your head from all the pleasure you’re getting. “Careful with those, darl.” You say with a chuckle. “You can’t break them in your state right now, but they still hurt.”

“S-Sorry.” He manages to say, continuing with moans afterward. They’re high pitched, most of them, as much as he tries to at least make them a little lower.

“Oh? A word?” Your smirk is as much a nightmare as it is a dream. He wants to punch it off your face but also kiss it off your lips. “Right, right, praise. You take me in so well~” Chūya just barely manages a laugh.

“Ah, fuck!” Chūya shouts. He can feel himself getting closer and closer.

You smirk, moving to his neck, kissing and nipping. Your fangs sting his neck everytime you bite down, but you make sure to control yourself. Though sooner or later you’ll bite him and draw blood, it’s only inevitable.

“Go on, baby. Come loose for me, let me feel your seed on my abs.” You move to his ear, whispering and licking the lobe.

Your words are what sends him over the edge of bliss. His seed spills all over the both of you, which is a turn on for sure; it moves with his constantly bulging belly.

You close your eyes when you feel yourself coming closer. Instinctively, you move to his neck, giving him a harsh bite, which makes Chūya groan. You couldn’t control yourself from not biting him, even when his neck is already littered with other marks. Blood drips from the wound, two small holes.

It’s only when you go over the edge that you apologize. You move off of him, pulling him on top of you instead. He snuggles into your body, hissing in pain. “Sorry.” You move your wings to wipe the blood away.

“It’s fine… well, not really, but eh.”

You chuckle, keeping one wing on the wound and the other over the top of you. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

The promise of another time is reassuring, whether it be sexual or not, though he rather it be a date. He likes to know he has a little bit of a chance.

#chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x male reader #chuuya nakahara x male reader #bsd x reader #bsd x male reader #bsd smut #anonymousrequest #⚠️nsfw🙈

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mine-curse · 3 years

Text

I uhh... lost my shit over this so uhh... I delt with my feelings by writing fanfiction, sorta. Its mostly just a drabble and half way to just being like, a summary meta post but 🤷‍♂️ Uhh also fair warning, I haven't written anything thats not a script in a while, and its been like 10 years since I really tried to write a fanfiction. Also misspelling and grammar errors incoming.

Uhh... cw for talk of death and imortality, aging and not, vague allusions to apathy towards death... nothing too serious, just like... thats what its about.

"Technoblade never dies."

The first time he heard those words were in hushed tones, rippling through a dingy tavern, flying with the rumors that the famed gladiator Technoblade would soon be visiting the local collisiem.

Ohkay, sure, what ever you say mate.

He couldn't help chuckling as he sipped his beer. He knew a thing or two about not dieing.

---

It was a blistering hot day as he settled in to a seat, high in the stands of the grand coliseum. Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he'd happened to find himself staying in town a few extra days to see this supposedly invincible warrioir. The stands were packed and the excitement of the crowd was tangible.

The other combatants were introduced first. The announcer clearly saving the 'best' for last. The crowd going wild as Technoblade stepped onto the feild. He was a massive... man? Pigman? Towering over the other fighters. Wearing a thick red cloak, he must be sweltering in this heat.

The second the starting bell rang Technoblade moved, shockingly light on his feet. He dodged and countered with honed instinctual accuracy. He moved from one attack to another, one opponent to another, with frightening efficiency.

As the fight went on, the crowd became dominated by one single chant.

"Technoblade never dies!"

Somewhere, deep in Phil's mind. A tiny spark found some kindling.

is he..?

-----

Diamond blade met diamond blade as the two clashed. Blue eyes met blood red and somehow, it seemed neither could look away.

Is he?

He couldn't be.

Phil spread his wings, and, taking advantage of Technoblade's momentary shock at this revelation, broke the stalemate. leaping backwards, his opponent awkwardly lurching forward as he took to the sky. He looked down at the pigman, who was staring back up at him. Though they had broken apart, the stalemate continued. Technoblade probably could have thrown his sword and hit Philza. Philza could have drawn his bow, and taken a shot, taken out this unkillable foe. Technoblade never dies. Well, if that were true it would just be a waste of arrows to try.

-----

Its was another while before they met properly. How long, he couldn't quite be sure. But Technoblade looked no older than he had on that battle feild. So it probably hadn't been too long. Then again he wasn't exactly confident in his ability to judge how old a pigman was. This time they were on the same side. One of many two-person wrecking squads, sent behind enemy lines to do as much damage as possible.

"Bet we get way more kills than everybody else."

That was not empty confidence. "You think? There's supposed to be some strong people in this fight."

"Come on, you're Philza Minecraft, you actually know what you're doing! And I'm really good at stabbin' people."

He laughed, Phil chuckled along. "I'll just try to play support, scout and keep guys off you while you do your stabbing."

Technoblade gave a laugh, "Appriciate it," he clasped a clawed hand on Phil's shoulder, "We got this!"

Phil noticed, as they fought, Technoblade seemed to grow more used to having a partner. Stopped covering all sides with frenetic energy, and just let Phil cover his back, allowing him to focus on tearing through warrior after warrior. As they fought they laughed, setting off TNT, drawing opponents into traps. It was exhilarating, fighting with someone so powerful. Someone who was... like...

Me...?

-----

As time passed, Techno stayed the same, at least pysically. Same voice, same features, only more and more scars. But no matter how grievous the injuries that lead to those scars, it seemed nothing could truly harm him. He always made it out alive. The rumors and chants were true, Technoblade never dies. Together, they always made it out alive with a laugh.

He'd saved Phil's life on more than one occasion. A particularly nasty run in with a baby zombie had seemed to leave the unshakable Technoblade quite shaken. So Phil tried, tried to be a little more careful, at least for now, for Techno's sake.

-----

Philza would go off on his own for a while. Each time, dread would build for the inevitable moment he'd return and find his friend changed, grown in grey fur, developed that telltale rasp to his voice that signaled the inevitability of his mortality. Or maybe one day Phil would simply hear that he had already died, and that would be that. In some ways, he might prefer that. He wouldn't have to face... It. But Techno never changed, his voice stayed as full and booming as it ever was. He stayed as strong and graceful as the first day Phil had seen him.

Maybe it was just... less time had passed than he'd thought. His life had been a bit more eventful recently, mostly due to the time he spent with Techno. And that always had a way of slowing things down. Maybe pigmen, piglins (?) (he still wasn't sure), just aged much slower than humans. But maybe...

Is he...

Maybe it was better not to think about it too much. Yeah, better to just... enjoy his company, however long it lasted. Whether or not Technoblade would or would not never die was.. out of his hands anyways. Well, mostly. They kept fighting together, always watching each other's backs. He couldn't really say how much time had passed. He'd stopped bothering to keep track. It didn't really matter. They had somehow fallen in step with each other, and if that simply meant Phil was once again experiencing the flow of time as a mortal would, well, that was fine by him. But somewhere, deep in his mind, he had to hope, even if the fear of that hope being crushed kept him from finding the answer. Technoblade never dies. Maybe it was true. Maybe it could be...

Is he like me?

#technoblade #philza #dsmp #dsmp fanfiction #i have a lot of feelings #an evil part of me wants to make parts of this into a comic #but... i dont got time for that #i dont...#technoblade fanfiction #philza fanfiction #gggg im just gonna post this instead of obsessing over it... gotta.. get used to putting stuff out there...#philza: this is my best friend hes a funny pigman hes probably mortal but im too scared to find out how does time work anyways? who caresss #techno: philza... its been 200 years #emerald duo

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thesleepysphinx · 3 years

Text

Tokoyami x (fem)Reader - Agoraphobic pt. 1: I love when it rains

Masterlist ⁘ Next

But I love when it rains 'cause I'm agoraphobic

- Corpse Husband

Tokoyami turned the page of his book, letting himself sink further into the couch of the dorm commons. He had been one of the first to rise this Sunday morning and relished in the comfort of making his tea in a silent kitchen. He sipped his tea every other page, content in a slow pace. Every once in a while, he glanced towards the elevator to see if any others were approaching, and when he found no one, he would look to the windows to see if it was time to greet the sunlight. Just as the promise of sunlight was approaching, a drop of rain fell. Then another. Until rain overtook the sun for the day.

Tokoyami smiled fondly at the rain, finding comfort in it and in the fact that it meant it was unlikely he would be asked to leave the dorms that day. He was indeed content to stay alone, at home, with his book and his tea. But the alone part did not last for long, as he heard the doors to the elevator open. Out you walked, still in your pajamas, stretching your arms up over your head as you yawned. Tokoyami watched for a moment, waiting for someone else to follow behind you, but no one ever did. So now, he was alone with one other person. He looked away back to his book, tracing his finger along it to find where he left off.

You noticed Tokoyami once you finished your stretch and yawn. You knew Tokoyami well enough to know he prefers a more silent than chatty company. So, as you passed by the couch he was sitting on, you offered a simple, “Good morning, Tokoyami.” You continued your walk towards the kitchen, not sticking around to pressure him for a response.

“Good morning, (y/n).” He turned the page of his book. He paused to see if you wanted to say anything else, but found you had nothing to say. Tokoyami was appreciative of your silence, but he was never opposed to conversation with you, a luxury he did not have with very many people. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke again. “There should still be some hot water in case you wanted tea.” He didn’t look away from his book as he spoke, almost anxious to look at you. Something deep within him just wanted him to hide.

“Oh, thanks!” you said with a voice too chipper for the early morning. You started to hum as you prepared your preferred tea, a tone much more fitting for the time of day. Tokoyami couldn’t pin-point the exact song, but it had a somber tone, one that he might find himself entranced by. He kept his eyes on his book, but found that every time he read a page, he’d have to reread it again. He was constantly getting lost in the beat of your hum.

Eventually, the hum stopped, and he continued his reading. But in his peripherals, there you were, standing at the window he had been looking out of all morning. You held your tea in both hands as you looked up at the cloudy sky, sipping it here and there. Tokoyami soon noticed that his eyes had moved from his book to you. Why did he find himself looking at you when he was so anxious to just a moment ago?

The moment Tokoyami moved his eyes back to his book, you started to mumble out a song. He couldn’t make out any of the lyrics but recognized that the beat was much faster than the one you were humming earlier. Tokoyami felt like it should have been a total mood shift, but for some reason the mumbling still felt somber. His curiosity was piquing, but his anxiety was fighting to hold him back. But as you kept singing, the mumbles turned into actual words, and Tokoyami made out the words “I love when it rains ‘cause I’m agoraphobic.”

Tokoyami raised his head to face towards you, finally giving in to his curiosity as you began to hum the beat you were before. “What song is that?”

His question made you jump, almost dropping your cup of tea. You caught it, though just barely, and turned to face him. “It’s called 'Agoraphobic', by Corpse Husband. The rain just reminded me of it.” You looked back through the window with a smile, appreciating the rain just as much as Tokoyami did. As you moved your head back towards Tokoyami’s direction, you pulled your phone out of your pajama pocket, navigating over to YouTube. “Here, let me show you!” Again, your voice was very chipper, and Tokoyami’s feathers ruffled a bit as you made your way to sit next to him and show him the music video.

Tokoyami tried to calmly move his bookmark into his book, closing it so he could give his whole attention to the music video. You seemed so excited about it that he would feel bad if he didn’t. As you started the music video, the beat you hummed before played in instrumentals. You hummed along to the video, and Tokoyami had to push down the urge to divert his attention to you rather than the music video. Without everyone else around, he felt somehow drawn to you, and he just couldn’t explain it.

As Tokoyami continued to listen, a deep voice began to sing very quickly, at the rate you had been mumbling before. He could hardly register the lyrics as they came, but he was able to read them as they popped up on the video. He spared a couple of glances in your direction, finding your lips mouthing the lyrics, but you never sang them out loud.

As the song came to a close, repeating the lyric “I’m not okay,” Tokoyami felt a sense of catharsis. He found himself relating heavily to the song, though he had one question.

“If I may, what does ‘agoraphobic’ mean?”

You stopped your mouthing of the lyrics to answer. “It’s a fear of crowds or leaving the house.” Your eyes went soft as you continued. “The artist has to deal with it a lot, that’s why the song has so much feeling to it.” You sipped your tea once again. “It’s just been stuck in my head lately. Sorry if I bothered you.” Your face turned somber as you pocketed your phone and leaned back on the couch, drinking your tea with both hands.

Tokoyami’s feathers ruffled once again at the sudden change in your mood. Why does she look so… sad all of a sudden?

“Not a bother at all.” He sipped his own tea. “In fact, I enjoyed the song. The book was not holding my attention.”

You let out a hum that sounded more like a sigh. You considered for a moment if you should continue the conversation. Does he want to keep talking? I don’t want to make him uncomfortable or anything… But is it rude if I don’t respond? After one more sip of your tea, you came to a decision. “What’s the book?”

It wasn’t until after you asked that Tokoyami realized he had wanted you to. He passed the book to you as he explained, “Pride and Prejudice. It’s an older classic. I’ve been told it’s one of the best novels ever written. Though, I cannot speak to the validity of that claim.” He stuffed his hands in his sweater pockets as you propped the book up against bent legs and analyzed the cover and some pages. You found that he was somewhere around half-way through according to his bookmark.

“I’ve read it, actually. Elizabeth Bennett is a whole mood.” You giggled as you remembered the character. “But it’s hard to get through classic literature.”

Tokoyami nodded in his agreement. “The diction is most definitely a struggle. But I’ve always appreciated the challenge of classic literature.”

The two of you continued your discussion of literature, anxieties fading as time went on. You found yourself enthralled in Tokoyami’s company, and he in yours. Your half drank tea had ended up on the coffee table next to his, both of them going cold. You had kept the book on your lap, forgetting its existence. The tapping of the rain drops outside complemented the conversation, shutting the two of you out from everything else. That was, until the elevator doors opened again, this time to much louder company. Nearly half of the class poured out of the elevator, chatting loudly with each other as they made their way towards the commons. Among them was your best friend, Toru.

It was a wonder that you were able to be such a calm person with a best friend like Toru, the biggest ball of energy. Unlike you, Toru was already dressed for the day in a yellow sweater that fell off her invisible shoulder and a pair of leggings. She jogged her way over to you excitedly chattering too fast for you to know exactly what she was saying.

Tokoyami started to feel like he was intruding. He rose from his seat, grabbing his cup of tea. “Excuse me.” Without waiting for an answer, he moved to the kitchen to wash his cup.

You watched him as he left, sad to have lost him so quickly.

“Hey, (y/n)!” Toru called to you, “When did you become friends with Tokoyami?”

You watched him walk around the crowd of students back towards the elevator. “Today, I guess.”

Toru took his place sitting next to you on the couch. “He’s so quiet and mysterious! What did you even talk about?”

You kept your eyes glued to the elevator, hoping that maybe he’d come back down soon. “Music and literature.” Usually, you’d say more, but your mind was completely occupied.

“That’s, like, completely unspecific.”

You finally gathered the control to look towards Toru’s invisible face. “I showed him the song 'Agoraphobic' and he showed me he was reading Pride and-.” You suddenly looked down to your lap, remembering the book that had made its way there early in the conversation. “Damn, he left so fast that I didn’t even get the chance to give him back his book.” You grabbed the book and rose from your seat. “I’m gonna go give it back, I’ll be back down in a bit. Movie marathon later?”

Toru’s shirt sleeves raised in the air to show her arms were raised in excitement. “You bet! Ojiro said he’d watch too!”

“Kay, I’ll be down in a bit!” You waved back to your friend as you made your way up the stairs, deciding not to wait for the elevator. Besides, this would get your blood pumping. But as you reached the second floor much faster than expected, you felt an anxiety rise within you. What if he just wants to be left alone?

Masterlist ⁘ Next

Hi, yes, I am writing a whole new fic when I haven't updated my last one in eons, but I felt much more motivation with this one. I love me my bird boi. I do intend for this to be a slow burn (maybe a friends to lovers? 👀) so I'm excited for this :) Please harass me if I take forever to update. Seriously. Harass me about it.

Also, all the love to Corpse Husband <3 check out his music if you haven't :)

#mha #mha x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #tokoyami x reader #tokoyami #fumikage tokoyami #fumikage x reader #fumikage #agoraphobic #bnha fluff #x reader fic #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #my hero x reader #corpse husband #x reader #mha fluff

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local80smotel · 4 years

Text

Tears and kisses

pairing; V x reader

summary; V & the reader's friendship started on him being injured and their relationship would start with that too.

requested by; @peachesandbb

rating; T

warnings; mention of blood (but never described)

word count; 2,663

A/N; I'm so sorry this took so long but I had a lot of fun with this! Thank you for requesting!

Y/N's lungs burned as they ran deeper into the alleyways of London, holding their heels in their hands. How were they supposed to know the creep they punched was a member of the Fingermen? Maybe wearing heels tonight was a bad idea but hey, no one thinks that they're going to be chased by madmen who were drunk with power at 8:30 pm. 'Shit' they thought, glancing at the street clocks '30 minutes untile curfew'. If they didn't get home soon that would just be another nail in the coffin for this English citizen.

The fleeing criminal didn't look back until they heard a loud, panic-filled scream followed with a thud. When they did, they were shocked by the scene in front– well behind them. There, taking out the Fingermen with such ease, was a pure black figure wearing a mask and an outdated hat. The hat or the mask wasn't the thing that confused Y/N, it was the fact this street vigilante was flinging these six-foot men like they were rag dolls. As embarrassing as it sounds, Y/N just stood there, stuck in some kind of awestruck daze until the ringing of a gun blast drew them out of it.

All they could cry out was a "No!" As they were still glued to the alley street. The masked figure only let out a pained grunt before taking out the shooter with one of his many knives. He stood there for a moment, their back only facing Y/N. They could tell even in the dark that this vigilante was seeing if the bullet was an exit wound or not.

“Hello?” they stepped closer to the caped hero “Are you hurt badly?”

Y/N's hero turned to them, obviously flustered as they tripped on their words as they tried to answer back.

“Uh-” He tried to bow but only winced in pain which stopped him from doing so “I would say so, but," he chuckled softly under his breath “as you can barely tell, I'm bleeding.”

Y/N rushed over to them ignoring common sense which yelled for them not to go to the man who had just taken out four men all by himself.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” they asked as they searched for the wound and see if there was an exit wound as well

“I know I haven't introduced you as I have to others, but could you be as kind as to let me into your home?” It was easy to tell the awkwardness and anxiousness in his voice. He shook his head before trying to continue his sentence, probably to backtrack and apologize but Y/N stopped them as they nodded before looking back at the street clock.

“We have sixteen minutes till curfew, we have to hurry. Can you run?”

The man nodded as he placed a hand on his wound before saying "Lead the way".

Luckily, it seemed that the secret police had vanished as they made way back to their apartment. They couldn't help but feel responsible for this poor civilian's injury. 'I could have outrun them. He didn't need to intervene like that.' They thought as they looked over at him. Now that they were closer to the street they should see where the wound truly was, his left shoulder. Y/N couldn't help but sigh in relief which rewarded them a confused head tilt from their guest. Hopefully, it hadn't hit any important nerves, muscle, or bone and they'd feel safe putting their hero on the street once a more.

Things between them things were quiet until they got to their apartment building's door. There, right on the porch of the brick establishment, he muttered a word as he was noticeably starting to get lightheaded due to blood loss.

“V...”

“V? Is that the name of the street you liv-”

“Name. That's my name.

All they could say was "oh" as they opened the door and started up the stairs. It was easy to tell he was getting grumpy as well. Who knew that was also a symptom of blood loss. When they both were greeted with their apartment door Y/N wasted no time opening said door and pulling this masked hero into it, making sure not to pull the injured side, and made a b-line to the bathroom. There, like most normal people they kept their medical supplies stored.

V stepped into the room first and before the host could follow he closed the door.

“Hey!” they yelled as they lightly slammed their hand into the bathroom door “What gives?”

“I- uh, please forgive me but I can take it from here!”

Y/N huffed as he spoke, feeling slightly insulted that they couldn't go into the bathroom they paid for. They were taken away from their irritated thoughts when V spoke again around three minutes later.

“Could you stay? Sit by the door I mean.”

“Why?” they shot back as they somewhat snapped. V waited for a moment before answering.

“Just... Nervous that's all.” His soothing British accent made the hair on Y/N's neck stand up “I can understand if you say no– I did lock you out of your own bathroom.”

“No! No, no it's okay.” They began to slide down the wall so they could sit. The quietness sneaked in as Y/N brought their knees to their chin. Small sounds like him hissing at the pain from rubbing alcohol and him rummaging for more supplies were the only things that broke said silence until he mumbled out four words;

“Would you help me...?”

The apartment's owner sighed as they got up, jittering the doorknob “Sure if you can unlock it.”

Again, it took him a few moments before a small click happened but they weren't annoyed or upset at the wait as they knew he was probably in more pain. When they opened the door they were greeted to V who now was shirtless with their back facing them. The wound wasn't the thing that caught Y/N's eye, but instead, it was the fact his body was so heavily burned. It made sense why he wanted to patch himself up now! They couldn't help but place their fingertips gently on his back which caused him the tense up.

“Need help wrapping the bandages?”

He nodded, still not looking at them which made it easier to tell that he was truly embarrassed.

Y/N looked closely at the wound, sighing in relief as it seemed that the bullet hadn't lodged itself inside any of the muscle and started wrapping the medical bandages, trying to make sure that it wasn't too tight. In an attempt to relax V they tried to make conversation about his burns. He was quick to say that he "didn't remember" how he got them which Y/N couldn't believe but dropped the subject and onto a new one; why he saved them.

“I watched you– just to make sure you got him safe– and I saw them. Harass you I mean.” he looked back at the bandage work, seemingly pleased with their work before talking once more “You threw a good punch though.”

Y/N couldn't help but blush at the compliment as they stood up “Thank you, V. Come back if you ever need help.”

When V left they couldn't help but feel that their apartment was, well, empty. That night as they laid in bed they secretly hoped he'd come back again and oh boy, would he do exactly that.

Almost three months into their budding friendship they were woken up in the middle of the night to pounding at their door. Fear washed over them like a wave as they opened the door, scared the police had come to take them away for some petty thing.

“Oh! V!” they smiled in relief along with joy as they got to see their good friend after waiting for almost one and a half months to see him again. “Come in!” they moved out of the doorframe, still smiling like a goof until they looked at the floor. Blood. Once again their dear friend had gotten himself hurt. Their heart sank as they looked back at him who was already in the bathroom except for this time he didn't lock the door like he did the first time he came here.

“Really V? This is the third time in a year,” they said with concern in their voice as they walked in the bathroom, undressing him to see the wound which turned out to be a stab wound in his upper abdomen. Luckily it didn't hit anything vital.

“Maybe you just get yourself hurt to see me..” they mumbled as they pressed a cold washcloth on him. Sure they said it was a joke but somewhere, deep down inside them, they wished it was true. V grunted as a response once rubbing alcohol was introduced to the stab injury, turning their head away from them before actually speaking.

“Come with me. Back to my place.”

Y/N turned red when they finally processed his words. Why? How? Where does he even live? Truly they wanted to say "yes" right then and there but they just couldn't.

What about their apartment? Their plants and mail? Sure, they didn't have anything important in their home like a pet but still, moving (especially when they've never seen the place) is both scary and draining.

“Why? V you know you're always welcomed in my home.”

He took Y/N hand's and placed it on his face so his "cheek" was cupped before answering their question

“One day Y/N they'll follow me back here and because you're helping me, ” he coughed “they'll take you away too. I want to make sure you're completely safe. You're important to me.”

Y/N's ears felt hot once V was done talking. They thought for a moment as they inspected the wound to see if it needed stitches. Maybe he was right and living with him would be a good idea. Hell even it wasn't like he only came to their place for safety as well as they couldn't count how many times they opened their door just to see items like water bottles or bags of fresh bread (with a V drawn on them of course) and due to that, it was clear that he did care for them.

Y/N sighed as they locked eyes with V “Ill go with you, V. Let me pack up first.”

They could tell he was happy as he rubbed his face a bit deeper into their hand.

A few hours later at one AM the two of them hurried out of the building, carrying a few duffle bags as they did so. Y/N as they walked couldn't help but glance down at the man's hands as he carried both bags.

“I can carry them V...”

“Nonsense! I'm just doing what a gentleman would do.”

They couldn't help but roll their eyes at this. For being an absolute tank he still tried to act all soft, guess that was another reason they liked them.

As they walked they teased one another, trying not to laugh so they wouldn't alert the police as they were very much out against curfew. That night Y/N learned that V loved stars which just added on to the cuteness factor of him.

“What is this?” they asked in confusion once they stopped in front of Victorian Station “V this place has been abandoned for years.”

“Exactly my comrade!” He smiled as he placed the bags on the sidewalk and opened the doors to Y/N's surprise “A secret treasure I like to call it, now come along you're probably exhausted.”

The two descended into the dark depths which V seemed to be used to. Y/N finally got to carry a bag but it was only so V could use his free hand to guide them in the dark as he had a hand on their shoulder.

As the door opened they were shocked to see the inside completely decorated. It was easy to see V was a big art nerd as classic paintings hung from the ceiling and loved literature once they saw their new room as books were piled all the way to the ceiling.

“I'm sorry if it isn't to your liking.” He said as he placed down the bag in his hand

“No no, it's amazing. Thank you, V.”

Before he left the room Y/N placed a kiss on the metal mask's cheek. V didn't stop to ask why but merely turned his head to look at Y/N who was busy unpacking their clothes now.

For the next two years, V came home with no injuries to Y/N's happiness. It was easy when it came to them bonded as V showed them his favorite movies and how to cook. Their relationship also deepened when the talk of politics came up. Sure, it was slightly concerning for them how V loved the idea of anarchy. But one thing was for certain; they both hated Sutler with a burning passion. Nothing outright romantic happened between them, BUT the night that marked their two years of friendship while having a movie marathon, Y/N laid their head somewhat near his shoulder as they began to fall asleep. V, even though he felt slightly awkward due to this situation, played with the tips of their friend's hair until the movie ended. He didn't move them back to their room, instead, to make sure V didn't wake Y/N, laid their head on a pillow and gave them a blanket before leaving the gallery. Like two years ago Y/N was startled wake around four AM to V slamming the door shut while grunting and mumbling to himself.

“V?” their voice was almost a whisper as they got up slowly and followed him

“Ah Y/N, I'm sorry for waking you.” he turned to them as he held his left side. It was easy to tell that he was nervous. When they finally got to see what was wrong their blood felt like it was being boiled. He had gotten himself hurt again! There was no blood but it was easy to tell he had broken something. He was always being reckless, didn't he know they cared for him? It just wasn't fair!

“Do I not matter to you?!” they snapped as tears threatened to fail as they grabbed the home's first aid.

“You haven't done this in so long V! Why now? Have I done something wrong? V–”

Before the could finish their rant V slammed his "lips" unto Y/N's whose eyes widen. They felt frozen for a few seconds until they wrapped their arms around them, running their fingers through his hair as they closed their eyes. To Y/N's sadness, they couldn't deepen the kiss due to his mask so holding him close was all they could do but it made them just as happy. When the two broke the kiss Y/N laid their head in the crook of his neck as they stayed silent for a few moments before they broke the silence.

“Can I say something?”

“Of course love.”

“I love you...” They held V's hand as they spoke in a whisper “I have for a while.”

V moved their head out of his crook and lifted their chin to look them in his eye before kissing them on the forehead

“And so have I.”

#imagine #imagine requests #v for vendetta #v for vendetta imagine #v for vendetta x reader

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miss-kittys-magical-library · 3 years

Text

Into The Mystic

(Leon x Honey one shot)

Warnings: smut and fluff

A/N: Honey and Leon get what some people don't, another chance at their first time. It's my birthday, and I'll continue getting my faves laid if I want to!!

Leon felt uneasy about their move to Manhattan. Honey had spent several years on the run from the FBI. But she slipped her old neighborhood on like the coat he bought her their first Christmas. It was warm and familiar to her.

Leon, on the other hand, was anxious. He still looked over his shoulder the last few weeks. He was unable to let go of the idea that they were squared up with both organizations. Honey and Kidman got them to out bet one another based on all the documents Leon had hidden in his belongings when they left London after.. Not only were they clear, they got to keep the money. But not without an ominous warning that the couple might owe them a favor in the future.

In The Village, Honey and Leon's flat was spacious. They had a massive kitchen and living area. A clawfoot bathtub and shower and both of them could spend time together without banging elbows. There were two bedrooms and a walk-in closet. A room too large for an only child like Selina, but there was hope more kids may one day follow. There was a fire escape for plants and smoking weed late after the little one went down. Most importantly, they had a king sized bed and a master room they never had to split with anyone.

Leon sat on the edge of their giant bed and waited for Honey. Whatever it was she was doing in the closet. He waited for her with patience for the last year, the last few weeks, these last hours until Selina went for her nap.

Despite being together again, he hadn’t actually been WITH Honey. He forgot how much he loved sex with her. He was always too high since she and her pregnancy left London for India. He stayed faithful and wanked to the photos she left behind. Or the erotic letters she wrote. So much had happened, he settled for her kisses and held her while she slept.

“Fuck yeah! I found them! Ok just a few more minutes, alright. Sugar did a number on my body, not sure if they’ll fit.” Honey shouted out at Leon from the depths of the closet.

“Your body is quite lovely,” Leon claimed. “All soft curves ‘n’ such. You haven't given me a go at seeing you proper naked since everything. I miss it. Bring it out here, lemme get a toss in?”

“That's what I'm trying to do, you knob!” Honey waved a hand from inside the closet. Her arm covered in leopard print. “I'm just nervous is all.”

Leon's eyebrows raised, “You taking the piss? Honey Comb, nervous about sex. With me? I reckon you're the sexy one between the two of us, yeah? Those hips and tits, like a sculpture. Bloody hell I'm built like a baby deer. You made me shave, and I look like a mental teenager.”

“Fuck’s sake, Leon! You look exactly like you did the day we met. That's what is doing me in. Of course I've got nerves, we haven't had sex in over a year. It's like, our second first time or something.”

He never thought of it like that, but she was right. They were getting reacquainted. Having to adjust to new roles as parents and partners. Leon had to adjust, Honey had six months on him with the baby. It was gobsmacking how quickly she settled in as his number one thought. How his brain now switched automatically from having sex with missus to his daughter.

Selina with her big, dark eyes like Mummy, but Leon's wild curls. The way she hardly fussed and loved being bound up to his chest as they walked the city. She would stare at him and tilt her head around to make sure Honey was still there too. Then she would smile around her pacifier, and that was Leon's too. A much better picture to fill his head at night than the agent with an axe protruding from his back and dead bodies he stepped over as they hurried away.

Leon clenched his eyes shut from the memory. He inhaled deep and exhaled slow, but his hand trembled with a craving for opium or or anything. Except he went cold turkey the moment they got in the back seat of that Mustang Kidman stole. He was clean, except the odd joint. Honey said that wasn't the same, it calmed his nerves. Healthier than a head shrinker.

“Close your eyes, alright?! I had to set up the record player. God I hope watching my godmother paid off.”

Leon obliged, “Done!”

He could sense Honey in front of the bed as the music started. A giant, dopey grin spread across Leon's face when he opened his eyes, “Alright, doll.” He leaned back to watch.

Honey started to twist her body to the ground with her back to him. She held the leopard coat tight around herself as her hips started to sway to and fro hidden by the giant jacket. She opened one side to reveal a bare shoulder that she rolled to the music. Then repeated again with her other shoulder before she dropped the coat enough to show her bare back right above where a bra strap would be. Leon bit down hard on his lip.

Honey covered herself and spun to face her partner. She opened the jacket to reveal a strapless bra, high waisted black panties and thigh highs held up by a garter belt. Leon squirmed in his spot when she placed a foot beside him on the edge of their bed.

Her hips never stopped their movement as she unsnapped one stocking and started to roll it over her leg and over her knee. She stepped out of it and hung it over Leon's shoulder. She switched to the other side and placed that foot beside Leon now. He grabbed her ankle, but she slapped at him playfully and shook her head. Her finger wagged back and forth.

Now Honey leaned her body forward like she was going to sit in Leon's lap. It was so quick, he almost lost balance. She did this rhythmically a few times before presenting her garter belt to him and gestured he undo this one. He was all too happy.

Leon started to pull the nylon forward once it was freed. He palmed the soft skin of Honey's inner thigh and the back of her calf as she let him take this side off. He couldn't help bending to kiss the same spot on her body where his hand had been. She didn't stop him as his lips trailed her knee and calf. In fact she forgot herself when he looked up at her with his bright, verdant eyes.

“Stop!” Honey’s cheeks were pink and hot with embarrassment. “You're making me forget what I'm doing! I'm trying to make this special for you.”

Leon’s hands traveled up Honey’s hips and waist and splayed out along her back under the fur coat. He buried his face between her breasts and showered them with kisses that moved down. His fingers alternated between massaging her back and backside all while his tongue traced the line in the center of her stomach and dipped teasingly into her navel.

“We have a daughter together. I'm your husband, and you’re my wife. Blimey, you chose me for some reason. That's the biggest mystery of this bloody universe.”

Honey’s fingers tangled and untangled and tangled again throughout Leon's hair. She melted her body into his as he spoke. She held his head to her chest. “What's a mystery?”

Leon unhooked her bra with little effort. It fell to the floor so he could lose himself one more time in her cleavage. This time his hot mouthsucked on her hardened nipple. He switched to the other and teased it with his tongue. Honey's grip tighter on the back of his head as she urged him back towards her stomach.

“That you love me,” Leon’s response muffled. He bit at the waistband of her panties and tugged it down and off with her help.

Honey was naked under the big coat and stood exposed to her husband. A body she wouldn't show him the last few weeks. Leon drew her foot back up to the bed. His eyes gawked at her breasts and her stomach and her pubic hair. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but all of her own thoughts rushed out of her head when he suddenly slid two fingers inside her.

“Fuck!” Honey cried out and dug her nails into Leon's shoulder.

He dove them in and out of her body. Hooked them just a bit and kept pumping at the wetness and her slit. His eyes on her sex as he did it almost fascinated by how deep they went. His middle finger found her clit which he fondled momentarily before he replaced his fingers with his mouth and tongue.

Leon flicked his tongue back and forth like a snake. He held Honey's backside and pulled her onto his face. His mouth and tongue worked together to elicit cries of pleasure from the woman in his arms. It goaded him into going faster until he knew she couldn't take anymore. He withdrew his tongue and sat back to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. A satisfactory grin dimpled his cheek.

Honey got her hands on Leon's boxers and yanked them down and off. She went to take the coat off but he shook his head. His eyes begged her to leave it on. So she did as she straddled his willowy body and took his cock in her hand. She positioned it just outside her entrance and teased the head with it. She ran it just outside and Leon agonized in her grip.

“Honey,” that familiar drawn out whine like music to her ears before she sank down onto him.

Leon's hands splayed out across Honey's back once more as she started to ride him. Her hips undulated back in time with the rhythm of the record that had started over in the background. Arms draped in a lackadaisical fashion over his shoulders.

Leon raised his hips to just immerse himself inside her walls as she bucked on his lap. His hands on Honey's waist to aid in the powerful back and forth motion.

Neither was sure if it was the build up or how long it had been since their last time, but Leon didn't last. That was ok Honey kept reassuring him as he let go of everything and came. A tremble coursed through Leon as she hugged him tightly, both their hearts beat wildly and out of control. Honey didn’t cum, and that was alright too.

Then Selina began crying from the other room, and Honey's breasts started to leak milk on instinct. Leon's chest was wet, and he held his wife back to stare at them as they did the other function boobs were meant to perform.

“Right on,” he said simply with a nod of his head.

Honey stopped being mortified right then of the way it looked, or the things her body was doing because of the baby. Their baby.

This sweet, intelligent, passive, lithe, sexy man beneath her with the eyes like moss and angled jaw and fuzzy eyebrows and messy hair wanted her. Leon would always want Honey. At 23. At 25. At 36 and 43 and 57. For now they were just getting re-started.

Tag list: @robertsheehanownsmyass @elliethesuperfruitlover @frogs--are--bitches @super-unpredictable98 @slutforrobbiebro @badsext @nightmonsters @bisexualnathanyoung @rob-private

#robert sheehan #robert sheehan character fics #leon #leon x honey

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hwajin · 3 years

Text

College

Genre: Fluff, Suggestive

Word Count: 1.3k

Note: i need to write those earlier than on the due day omg, i hope you still like this tho, enjoy☃️

Sitting in front of your books, the words inside them not making any sense to you whatsoever, you swore you could have started crying this very moment. College was truly testing your patience at this point. With teachers expecting more and more from you every day, with your classmates who didn't seem to be able to get their part of the work done you really didn't know how much longer you could take this clownery. Just as you shut the poor book close and threw it across the room in a very frustrated manner, Seungmin stepped into the room, eyes following the flying object silently as it landed on the floor in the living room. His head turned to look at you, your face buried in your hands, gripping onto your own hair harshly in an attempt to distress you in some kind of way. He didn't like seeing you like this, hated it, in fact, so he always wanted to do his best very to help you out. It was quite a mystery for him how school and studying was such a hard thing for you to do, considering his good grades and ability to remember everything from the first read. That was the main reason he didn't really believe your struggles at first, figuring you only wanted his attention and that you were a lazy person, but as time went on, he happened to be a witness of moments like this quite often, where you burst out in anger and sadness because of your studies. He understood that this wasn't as easy for you as it was for him so he started to feel compassionate.

Seungmin stepped closer to the kitchen table you were sitting at, dragging out the chair next to you and sitting down on it. Your head shot up at the sounds. You haven't even noticed your boyfriend creeping up on you, making you slightly scared and flustered due to the state you were in. You knew it was okay if Seungmin saw you like this. You knew the only thing he wanted was to help you, but you couldn't avoid feeling slightly ashamed whenever he had to explain the same thing over and over for you, again and again, only for you to not understand it once more. You felt guilty for distracting him from his own work, you knew that he was okay with it, though.

"What is it, let me see.", he said in a soft voice, immediately calming you down. The tears that were about to stream down your face disappeared slowly, your face softened and your eyes found Seungmin's. He always had this effect on you, and you were incredibly thankful for it. His brown, dog - like eyes stared into your soul, waiting for an answer so he could start helping you out of your problems.

"Math. As always.", you finally said, sounding guilty. Seungmin's thumb drew circles across your palm, nodding slightly. He stood up from where he was seated and walked over to the book you have thrown into the other room only moments before. You smiled shyly as Seungmin sat back down next to you, placing the book which - you were convinced - was produced in hell, on the table before locking eyes with you again.

"Next time just call me, stop throwing your books around the house."

Seungmin sounded kind of annoyed to anyone who didn't know better. But you did, thankfully. He was only worried about you, on top of that he wasn't the person to pour out his feelings just like that. He expressed his love through actions more than through words, and you grew to love exactly that about him.

"Okay, what's the page. Let me see what you don't get, I'll try to help you.", Seungmin said calmly. You shot him a thankful smile, opening the book on the page you were struggling with. Seungmin's careful eyes read the tasks, you could see the little cogs in his head turning as he tried to figure out a solution to the problem.

Seungmin looked hot like this.

You didn't want to go there, but your drained mind took over you quickly. His brows were slightly furrowed together, creating a slight crease between them. His eyes were soft, yet full of concentration as he read the words over and over, with a pen between his teeth, nibbling on it lightly. Your eyes were suddenly really fixated on his mouth, concentrating on how he bit down on the pen rather than the actual problem Seungmin was about to explain to you.

Your boyfriend suddenly sat up straight, finding your eyes quickly. You flinched a little at his sudden action, realizing only how drawn in you were by him and it made you blush, slightly.

"Okay, I have it."

His words were sure, confident, like he truly understood what he was about to explain to you. You admired his intelligence, and for some reason you got riled up even more. God, you really needed a break, your brain surely wasn't working properly anymore.

Seungmin started to describe you step by step what you had to do to solve the issue, calmly and slowly so, to make sure you got everything. You, on the other hand, nodded and pretended to be the good student he thought you were, but your eyes went over to his features, his eyes, his jaw which moved so deliciously as he talked, his messy hair, his neck that looked oh so kissable. Out of an instinct you leaned closer and placed your lips on the said body part, causing Seungmin to lean back and look at you, confused. You gave him a quick smile before leaning even closer, pecking his neck once again.

"Y/N, concentrate, I'm trying to help you here."

Seungmin said while placing his hands on your shoulders, shoving you away from his figure slightly in an attempt to stop you from going any further. As you looked back into his eyes you noticed that he couldn't hide his longing for you as much as he tried, though, which made you smile quite proudly. You wondered if Seungmin would give in to his wantings, but his eyes looked back at the book demandingly, signaling you to quit the games, concentrate on the problem and get to do the fun later. You sighed out loud, earning an eye roll from Seungmin.

"I've been doing this for too long, my brain is not working. I just...", you stood up while waiting to finish your sentence to emphasise it, "...need a little break."

As you said that you swung one leg over Seungmin's both ones, sitting down on his lap and straddling his waist.

You could feel him stiffen up at your actions and blushing slightly. Your hands found his hair quickly, running your fingers through it as you saw Seungmin closing his eyes at your touch in what could be relaxation.

"Y/N...", he brought out, voice breathy, eyes still closed.

You hummed at him as if you expected an answer from him. It didn't come quickly, though, as he melted under your touch, but he eventually opened his eyes, now hooded, and looked straight at you.

"We really shouldn't be doing this. I need to help you so you pass your exams.", he said. Seungmin himself didn't quite believe his words, his voice sounding reluctant above anything. You responded with another hum, leaning down and kissing his lips passionately. He gave in to your touch fast, instantly moving his lips in sync with yours. You poked out your tongue slightly to ask for permission for more, Seungmin conceding quickly as he opened his mouth for you. His hands were roaming around every single part of your body, leaving nothing untouched, until stopping his movements at your bottom. You moaned a little bit at the touch, making Seungmin smile against your lips sneakily. The boy beneath you suddenly stopped all his acts, leaving you empty, left with nothing. He looked up at you with puppy eyes, giving your bum a light squeeze, which made you jump just a little. He smirked at that.

"Let's move this to our bedroom.", he said in a husky voice before picking you up as if you weighed nothing, anticipation making your mind dizzy. The books on the table were long forgotten.

#stray kids #skz #skz kim seungmin #stray kids kim seungmin #skz seungmin #stray kids seungmin #seungmin #seungmin imagines #seungmin fanfic #seungmin fic #seungmin fluff

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faythelyse · 4 years

Text

Joji x Reader {female reader} Apocalyptic setting. Part two.

It had been about a week since I had invited the two new men to our community. Tending to George became a regular part of my day. Cleaning the wound and dressing it atleast 2 times a day. He has slept through all of it, I wonder when he will come to. Ben and Ashlee have been going out every day for a supply run. We haven't been this stocked since everything shut down.

Ashlee had grown close to Ben already, they go out frequently on supply runs, and spend most of their waking time fixing up the truck that is now currently running. To top it all off we haven't seen any infected near the community in 3 days. On my way to now to what is basically George and Bens room. I think they might end up living here for a long time. The thought of that made me smile.

I walk in medical bag in hand ready to dress up his wound. He was actually sitting up with his legs crossed. He appeared groggy, but smiled as I entered. "Did you sleep well?" I asked in a happy tone. Sitting next to him I open up my bag and start getting stuff ready. George starts to try and rip at the medical tape around his bandages.

I reach out and stop him with my hand. "Here let me help" I take a cotton ball and soak it in baby oil and wipe it all around the edges of the tape. He watches quietly.

"Let that sit a bit." I got up to throw the cotton ball away and his eyes followed me around the room.

"Thank you" he says as I sit back in front of him. "Where is Ben? "How long have I been out?"

"Ben is out in the garage with Ashlee, unless they have left already. They are heading out to get stuff to build up our walls a bit more, and you have been out for about 5 days. Did you dream?"

He rubbed his eyes "Um. Yeah, I did." He watched as I pulled out new clean bandages and tape. I start to softly pull off the tape around his ribs and chest. "You've been taking care of me all this time." I nod and continue to remove everything.

He winces as I clean his injury. Its healing. "You are lucky. It seems to be healing up great."

"Thanks to you.. We were lucky to stumble across you. I don't even recall what your name is."

"It's Y/N, if there's anything else you need just let me know" Right as I was close to the door he speaks up again.

"Can you just stay a moment with me. Ben and I haven't seen any others in months. It's nice to just be around someone who isn't infected."

"I understand. The girls and I who make up this community were getting restless not having anyone else to communicate with besides the raiders who come by to give us a hard time and steal our food."

"Raiders come and steal your food?" George looked genuinely worried knowing we really weren't in a good position to fight back.

"They killed Elenas fiance awhile back. We have tolerated them ever since." You look away not knowing what else to say on the subject. You couldn't yet explain to him that one of the raiders was especially infatuated with you and you had no choice but to go on tolerating it with no real way to fight back.

You change the subject "SO what did you do before the world shut down?"

"I made music. I still make music really. Just no ones around to hear it.. " He scratches the back of his neck nervously. "I heard you singing the other day when you came in to clean up the room."

You immediately blush. You don't sing in front of anyone.

"Don't be embarrassed" he laughed so casually "Y/N you sounded beautiful."

You smile nervously still not able to say anything. You could feel your face get hot as he just sat and stared at you for a moment.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to secretly listen in, I just didn't want you to stop.."

Ashlee opens the door "Y/N! We kind of have a small emergency." She motions for you to follow her. Before you leave you grab a pen and some paper from the desk in the corner of the room and lay it on Georges lap. "To write music." You say and smile before leaving the room.

George feeling great about finally having someone else to bond with besides Ben is immediately struck with inspiration and starts writing. George glances over at the green coat he had been injured in and has a flash of memories about the night he had met you. The tone of your sweet voice bounces around his head. Your messy hair, soft eyes and pouty lips had immediately drawn him to you. He wanted to know you.

Ben bursts in and plops down whilst shoving an immense amount of potatoe chips into his mouth. "They have ramen" he says with a mouthful. George rolls his eyes and smiles at his friend. "Yeah Im doing fine, thanks for asking dickhead."

"Aw come on, I knew you'd be fine, you've literally eaten a hair cake and survived." Ben laughs and shoves more chips in his mouth.

"You keep bringing that up like it's some life achievement." George manages to stand up and leans up against the wall next to the window. Ben walks over and gazes out the window with him. Ashlee and Y/N are outside trying their best to catch a mean goose that had laid her eggs in Elenas garden. They had plans to catch and breed her for food. George and Ben laugh quietly while watching this go down. "So what do you think of the girls? They seem great right?" Ben watches Ashlee, he is clearly into her.

"I actually completely agree with you on this one. They are great.." He says while thinking of you. "What if the people who gave me this" he points out his woind" find us here. Then we are putting them in danger."

Bens expression turns serious. "How are they going to find us? Besides if I see those fuckers again I'll be prepared this time."

"They found us last time, and we barely escaped.."

"That was last time, this is different. Have trust." Ben slaps George on the shoulder and starts to leave " Besides, we owe these girls. It wont hurt to stay awhile."

"And your dick has no alternative motivation for this?"

Ben smirks "Of course not, I have no idea what you are implying. " he shuts the door behind him.

George still by the window looks over the area for a moment. A garden was out in the right corner of the yard where a young woman was planting seeds while talking to

Y/N, who was sitting on a nearby stone bench. She appeared to be writing. George thought for a long time on if staying here was the right choice but something about Y/N made him want to linger a bit longer.

He walked outside, and stood behind y/n for a moment before making her aware of his presence. She was so immersed in her writing she didn't hear him walk up.

"You have nice handwriting." George spoke softly but his gentle voice made y/n jump even higher. "Jesus, you scared me. Also its rude to spy on someone who is so obviously journaling." You slam your book shut hoping he hadn't read to much into what you were writing. His big dark brown eyes lightened slightly in the sun. "Could I get a tour of the place? We can talk about how to pay off my debt to you. I really owe you my life." He was serious. You stand up and glance over at Elena. Elena looks up and waves her hand at you giving you the okay to leave her to her garden. "Sounds good, I'll show you around." You lead him out the gate into the front yard. You turn around and show him the full outside view of the house. "This is where we lived before we combined the house behind us, we decided it would be better to have a larger space, and fenced in both backyards, even cleared the second house. Now we have plenty of room in and out without having to worry about infected." You both walk back in, you lead him around the kichen and show him to all the rooms. "Where is your room?" You are starting to get the sense he could be flirting with you. You open the last room revealing your space. It was filled with old cds, books and papers, a bed with maybe too many blankets, and couple game systems hooked up to a tv that was plugged into a generator. "Homey" he says as he walks in making himself comfortable and plopping on your bed.

"You seem comfortable." You smile taking in his small gestures and goofy smiles as he gives your room a good look over. "Okay we can move on to the -" he interrupts you "Whats this?" He picks up a wrinkly piece of paper. It was a suicide note you had written a month or so ago after the raiders had killed elenas fiance and deemed you their new play thing. You didn't want to live in a world where you were trying so hard to survive only to get used whenever they decided to come back. Which was about twice a month. Sucked it up though. You care to deeply for all of your friends. You couldn't leave them to a worse fate. "I don't plan on doing that anymore. It's not a big deal." You whisper while looking down out of embarrassment. He walks up to you and pulls your chin up to meet his gaze. "Y/N I'm here to help if you need me." He pulls you into an unexpected hug. You relax in his arms. That was the moment he decided he didn't want to leave. He wanted to hold onto you and this peaceful place as long as possible. This felt like a dream to him. Ben and George had been wandering with no real home for atleast a couple years now. This felt like it could be home. "I'll pay my debt by helping you get rid of those assholes who think they can come by and take whatever they want." You push away from him. You knew this was dangerous, thinking about standing up to them at all made you sick to your stomach. We couldn't continue living in fear though. You nod your head in agreement. And you both walk back outside where everyone was circled up talking.

#jojixreader #george miller #jojifanfiction #fanfiction #jojifanfic #romance

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thesixswords · 4 years

Text

Six Swords:

The Congress Ave Shuffle

As if chased away by the hundreds of eager locals vying for an opportunity to push beyond the barely-sufficient shade of their porches and awnings, the brutal August sun finally dropped from view and the lights, sounds, and smells of night in the city limits took its place. Saloon music began to plink away from within unshuttered windows, the entertainers and various adult companions began to appear from balconies all around, and the whole cacophony of glasses and boots and voices grew steadily in the cooling dusk. Pierce looked over as his companion breathed it all in with a sigh of relief - he may not have been much for the clutter and claustrophobia of Austin, but Iain looked like he'd finally found his promised land.

Pierce couldn't blame him. After more than two weeks of walking through the rough, hot, dry Texas hills with little more than a bath and a nap, even he was looking forward to a stout drink. Pulling back out of his thoughts, he realized Iain had already wandered off and quickly fell in step behind him. Their destination tonight was hosting a rather extravagant affair, so they were dressed to match - polished boots, clean slacks, and long coats over vests over patterned button-up shirts. Their hats were the only giveaway, newly cleaned and shaped but still worn with years of hard use. They would be checking them with their guns at the door though, so there was little to worry about.

Of course, as much as business was business, pleasure was pleasure, and they had little experience denying themselves a good time. Tonight's struggle would be finding the balance between those two more than anything. But that was the fun of it all, Pierce told himself with a grin as he removed his hat and dipped his head in greeting. The man they were here for, a fellow who by all accounts was difficult to miss in a crowd, was the financier and host of this particular event. And for all his apparent hospitality, he'll surely regret filling our bellies.

The fiasco was already well underway as they stepped out onto the old wooden floor, complete with a dozen liquors, twice as many freshly-baked pastries, and still twice as many more bright, flowing skirts of working girls. The shuffle of people in and out various rooms and up and down the stairs made moving about fairly safe. There was little chance of being recognized; for whatever their infamy the Six Swords had never had a single face put to them. But they were only a stone's throw in either direction from their childhood homes, and who knew who might pop up at an event like this.

Catching a familiar face out of the corner of his eye, Pierce elbowed Iain and politely excused himself from the circle of locals they'd attached themselves to. With a quick glance around the room and a renewed satisfaction in their sense of anonymity, the two men casually made their way up the stairs and into the furthest room down the dim hallway. One could hardly expect trouble in a place like this, what with all the affluence about and their distaste of patrons strapped with weapons… but then that was why Braxton had arrived early.

With a light nod and a heavy clasp of hands, Pierce and Iain entered the room quietly. Braxton, almost twice their age and more than twice their stature, moved without comment to his bedside and stooped low to reach beneath the mattress and frame. "Here we go boys," he offered with his typical general's mix of collected and confounded tones. "Once the speech gets underway, all eyes will be front and center for you to move into position. When the old fart's through we'll have no trouble picking him off." The briefing complete, he handed over the pair of blades he'd pulled from their hiding place, Pierce's heavily curved sabre and a paper-thin spadroon Pierce handed in turn to his partner with a look of mock disgust.

"Oh, shut your mouth," the latter was already saying, plucking the long sword from the two fingers Pierce was holding it in as if it would infect him on contact. "You just wish you could do more than hack like a heathen with that piece of overweight garbage." Iain flicked his blade out to rap against his companion's, but Pierce was already winding around his point to nip at his exposed hand. They both chuckled a bit, then straightened up and offered Braxton another outstretched hand. "See you soon," the older man said, and turned to the window to make his escape.

Always focused, Pierce thought of the old fellow, and with another grin and a wave of his emptied glass, they tucked the weapons in their dusters and headed towards the nearest cluster of bodies. As they slowly made their way to a small dark den of a room behind the island bar that kept customers safely away from the spirits they desired, an unwanted voice rang out. "Iain? Iain!?" Iain wasn't turning.

"I thought that was you," the voice came again from right behind them, and a hand landed firmly on Iain's shoulder. Forcing a smile through his scowl, Iain turned somewhat awkwardly, likely because of the large blade in his coat, and threw up an obligatory hand in greeting. "I'll be," the stranger barked loudly, "I haven't seen you since they ran you out of Fort Catahoula!" "Great," Pierce was whispering as he turned to greet more strangers, "he has friends."

"This here's the meanest sumbitch I ever saw with a knife," their unwanted associate was saying to them now. It had been well over half an hour, and this man was steadily growing louder as the night settled in. Iain gave a sheepish look and patted the drunken man on the back, looking around frantically for the bottle that would end this conversation prematurely. They couldn't exactly say they had another engagement or group to be around; this was the talk of the town and they weren't residents. Spotting the object of his immediate need, Pierce leaned over into a circle of partygoers and quietly plucked the bottle of whiskey that was supplementing their mood.

"Here we go," he offered, setting it down in front of them all and circling up a handful empty glasses. "To old friends," he said, and picked up his freshly poured drink to drain its contents. After the others greedily followed suit, he handed the bottle off to the stranger and remarked casually that they were off to mingle. "Not without meeting my other old friend," the man replied without hesitation, and circled around a few times in a stagger until he found his quarry. "Mr. Mills," he yelled out over the noise, and as the man being called looked their way, Pierce and Iain looked at each other.

"Here's the man we should all be drinking to," the stranger said as Mr. Henry Mills stepped up to shake their hands. Moving as loosely as they could with three feet of steel hanging down their sides, each offered a hand in turn and tried their best to give no hints at the fact that they already knew this face well. "How are you gentlemen?" Mr. Mills asked as they all sipped on another round. The silence was a bit awkward, but not so much that it wasn't overlooked. Mills continued unphased.

"Hopefully I can persuade you fine folks to add yourselves to our flock of faithful and fine servants of this great state's persisting ideals of class and culture. I know in the midst of such civil conflict many see a reason to revisit their values, to reconsider some of those staples of society we've long held dear. But here in the heart of brick, mortar, and barbed-wire we find it vital to stand true beside those things others would now call into question."

Pierce could see the distaste on Iain's face, which meant their illustrious host probably could too. "And so it follows," Pierce added with perhaps more malice in his voice than he should have allowed, but turning the attention on himself nonetheless, "That all those born to a lower class must be kept there lest the world discovers they're just people too. We get it old man." Mr. Mills looked upset by the comment, but it was too late and had served its purpose at any rate. Standing up alongside the stranger who drug him over and the handful of hopefuls on his coattails, the men at long last ambled off to find more amicable company.

What a character, Pierce thought to himself as he looked back over at Iain to join him in making their exit. Iain's face said the same and more, and they got up happy to be free of the burden and finished making their way to the darkest corner of the place. Henry Mills was finally circling up to his prepared speaking area, a pair of tables pushed together with a podium on top, and the two outlaws settled in for another, longer version of the hate speech they had just pried away from.

After plenty of emotional rallying and recementing of the rather shtickish community goals of less poor people, faster, and over a larger area, things began to die out as those who had only shown for the free food and booze slipped away before they could be recruited. Keeping calm and still, Pierce and Iain waited. Eventually the would-be-politician would take his leave, so would they, and the world would thereafter be one corpse closer to a perfect place.

Another half hour passed, and at last the bar was all but emptied. Mr. Mills gave a hearty and fond farewell to the last few supporters remaining, then headed for the stairs to his personal suite. Pierce and Iain set their glasses down, looked around quickly to make sure they were free to make their move, and rose from their seats to follow. With nobody the wiser, they crept past the handful of tipsy stragglers and went straight in the door behind him.

"Well hey there, gents," came a loud and familiar voice. Mr. Mills was put off, turning in surprise to find the pair in step behind him, and with their newest nuisance in the room their cover was blown. Swords already half-drawn, the two killers hesitated. "Holy-" the loud man was starting to say, jumping up from his seat and searching for any crevice he could squeeze his oversized gut through to escape. "You're one of them!"

Iain cursed openly as he walked over to the man and pushed him back into his seat with the tip of his spadroon. Pierce was already at the target's throat and looking to his partner in crime for the next course of action. With a final swear to the god that put them all in that room together, Iain slid the blade towards the man's neck and sent him sprawling over backwards. With a frown of inconvenience, Pierce slid his sabre's edge slowly across Henry's throat and let him drop to the floor. The unexpected guest in the room was halfway through a window when they finally stepped up beside him. "Damn shame," Pierce said. "Do you really know him?"

Iain looked at him, decidedly unhappy with the situation, and nodded as the poor man dropped to the dirt road below. They couldn't let him go, and they certainly couldn't rely on him to keep his mouth shut. Furthermore, he was clearly a personal friend of the old racist corpse they just left behind and would likely turn this story into a fantastic propoganda tool for the pro-slavery movement that had doubled down since the civil war ran cold.

Left with so little in an increasingly cut-off and scorched-useless Confederacy, people had had no choice but to see their former servants as equals. There wasn't enough circumstance left for the pomp, as Braxton so eloquently liked to put it, when the Masters began begging their slaves for the secrets to less-frivolous survival. Suddenly the biggest supporters of the war effort became pioneers of a movement for equality and true freedom for all.

Pierce drug his boots over the dead man like a beat dog. And this filth almost undid it all single-handedly. Through his veiled speeches of carefully chosen words, Henry Mills had managed to restart with a vengeance what the Union had all but killed in its initial fight against secession. "Planter trash," he heard Iain say behind him in voiced approval of the extra kicks. "And his friend."

They exited the way Braxton had earlier, using the overhang under his window's ledge instead of careening to the ground, and quickly picked up their new mark's trail. After a quick assessment of the utter mess of lines and dents he left in the street, they hauled off after him behind the bar and picked a direction. As luck would have it, the intoxicated escapee was still standing in the back alley, struggling rather helplessly at the sill of an old shop window.

"What are you doing friend," came Iain's voice from the dark. The staggering and struggling stopped for a moment, and the reply finally came. "You're no friend of mine, Iain Tavish of the Six Swords!" Pierce shook his head and stepped forward into cutting range. "What kind of attitude is that amongst old comrades. Is this not the same kid who held the front lines solid after the massacre at Appomattox? The same soldier you'd rather have beside you than in front of you with a knife in hand?"

"Looks like he traded that knife for something more capable of cold-blooded killing," he shot back, the stench of alcohol on his breath filling the entire humid alleyway. Then his eyes lit up with recognition and he reached for the pistol that should have been at his waist. "You left it at the door dumbass," Iain dryly explained. "And so did we, so let's handle this before I can't get them back." Drawing the sword back from beneath his duster, he aimed it directly between his opponent's eyes.

"I truly do apologize for this," Iain continued. "We're not much for a mindless death, but if you're looking out for that slaver fanatic you ain't have much of a mind to begin with." He took another step forward as if to say more, but the swagger of his adversary disappeared for an instant and became a mad charge under the blade. With a surprised hop to the side, Iain attempted to leap clear but was brought down in a tangle of fists and feet anyways.

Iain fought hard for that upper hand, or so it seemed to Pierce from his vantage point a few steps back. "What are you doing, man? Get behind those joints!" he cheered in amusement as the two men rolled around in a cloud of dust. "Iain you cheat, stop fighting dirty!" "You know," came the heated reply between labored breaths, "You could be halfway back to your hat by now you lazy coward." He stopped to fend off a few pounding blows while straddled by the crazed man and deliver a few in return. "You could at least give him a swift kick to the saddle bags."

Still smiling, his night's work having turned into a far better experience than he had hoped for, Pierce obliged and planted his boot right between the big guy's thighs. With a howl and a hand on his crotch, he went over like an unbalanced bag of grain and met his end quickly after when Iain rolled onto him and pushed a knife deep into the back of his neck to make him silent. It wasn't their most scrupulous moment, but the job was done snd they were no worse for wear.

With the dust still roiling at their backs, the two men hurried back over to the bar and hotel they'd left and climbed back up through the window. There was nobody left but the innkeeper, and a quick tale of the paid-for passion of one of his employees left him happy enough to not ask questions. Tonight they would sleep well in a warm bed and wake late to a hot breakfast, but they wouldn't dare do it here.

By morning the place would be crawling with concerned citizens and overzealous law enforcement, and since both were bad for business they would be happily on their way back to the Good Book bar and the handful of fellow minds this newly-independent South had deemed the worst band of vigilantes ever to be born in God's finest countryside. Though they'd never admit they were fond of the name, though they'd never intended the moniker to stick, the Six Swords were here to stay and Pierce was proud of it.

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