#my commissions are still open so do head over to my page to check out my sheet if you're interested!

[artyartpile]

Commission done for my friend Asia uwu

[0cta9on]

Stuck With You

length: +2k words

Genre: Fluff

NewJeans Minji x Male Reader (OC)

(Author's Note: My first commission!! Thank you to f_r_e_s_h for purchasing a commission, I appreciate it a lot :) If you're interested in buying a commission from me, head on over to my ko-fi page!!)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

 A light breeze brushes past you, relieving you of your exhaustion for a brief moment as you watch the sun set below the city of Paris from the balcony of your hotel room. The 14-hour flight from Korea was hell, but the view alone made it all worth it. It has always been part of your bucket list to visit Paris one day, it’s a shame that you won’t be able to actually experience any of it though. With the International Summit starting tomorrow, you need to be extra focused on your work as a diplomat representing your country.

A cafe sits across the street from your hotel, beckoning you with its warm and welcoming light. You watch as the people inside talk and laugh about things you can only assume, enjoying one another’s company on this chilly winter day. A nice cup of coffee sounds great right now, but you have to be ready for tomorrow. But… It’s not tomorrow yet. The night is still young, giving you a couple hours to check out the cafe and maybe even explore the city for a little bit. You did all the extra work you needed to do on the plane, so there’s no reason for you to stay in your hotel room. After the summit is over, you’ll be on a flight straight back to Korea, and when are you ever gonna have the time to come back to Paris again? Besides, you’ve been working too hard for far too long, you deserve to have a small break.

Without hesitation, you grab your coat and exit your room, beelining it straight towards the elevators as you mentally practice the little French that you learned before the trip. With a resounding ding, the elevator doors open and you walk inside, only a couple floors standing between you and the City of Light.

The elevator shifts to a stop on one of the floors, opening to reveal a girl around your age wearing a mask and a cap pulled low over her eyes. Even with the majority of her face covered, you could feel the aura of elegance and beauty surrounding her. Her outfit isn’t anything crazy on the surface - a hoodie layered with a leather jacket and a clean pair of jeans - yet something about the way she wears it is so attractive. You wouldn’t be surprised if you find out that she’s a model for Paris Fashion Week, which coincidentally occurs at the same time as the summit.

“Hello,” you greet as she steps into the elevator. She returns your greeting with a simple nod, a small gesture that makes your heart flutter. You didn’t necessarily believe in love at first sight, but you imagine this is how it would feel like.

The elevator descends in silence, save for its mechanical rumble. Due to the nature of your job, you meet a lot of important people from around the world, so your conversational skills have naturally improved over the years. However, you suddenly find yourself tongue-tied around this random girl, not even a simple “How are you?” can escape your lips. All you can do is sneak little glances at her, but now you just feel creepy. Oh well, it’s not like you’re here to meet women or anything of that sort. You just want to feel some freedom for a little bit.

Suddenly, you nearly fall to the ground as the elevator begins to jerk violently. A hauntingly loud creaking noise can be heard from outside as the elevator abruptly stops its descent. The girl trips forward into your chest, and you instinctively catch her, holding on until the elevator eventually stops swaying.

Both of you share a huge sigh of relief. Even if the elevator stopped working, at least you're not plummeting to your doom.

“T-thank you,” the girl says, her voice trembling slightly. You meet her eyes for the first time, suddenly greeted by the most beautiful shade of brown you have ever seen. They’re invigorating like the strongest shot of espresso, sweet like the creamiest hazelnut chocolate, and warming like the first cup of hot cocoa in the winter. You could spend hours, no, years just looking into her eyes, getting lost in every flicker of her irises and every flutter of her lashes.

“Um, are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, s-sorry,” you stutter nervously, finally letting her go. You turn away from her, hoping she doesn’t notice the deep red in your cheeks.

She starts pushing buttons at random, but none of them seem to work, not even the one to call the firefighters. A wave of dread washes over the both of you at the realization that you have no idea how long it’ll take to get out of this metal coffin. Maybe an hour at best, maybe never at worst. With nothing else you can possibly do, you resign yourself to the ground, resting your back against the wall. This is what you get for trying to live a little - you get trapped in a box, forced to think about the consequences of your actions. All because you wanted a cup of coffee.

The girl sits across from you, tossing her hat and mask off in defeat, ruffling her silky black hair with her fingers. Your breath hitches in your throat - she is absolutely gorgeous. You swear you’ve seen her face before, maybe she’s a model for a high-fashion brand or the daughter of a rich CEO who ends up getting in the news for trivial matters. Either way, you can’t help but stare at her, slack-jawed in awe.

“Um, did you want an autograph or something?” She asks, her eyebrows raised in judgment.

You pick your jaw up off the ground, your cheeks burning red with embarrassment. “N-no, sorry, you just look really familiar. Have we met somewhere before?”

She chuckles lightly at your expression. “No, I don’t think we have. I’m Minji.” She reaches her hand out towards you in a friendly handshake, which you accept with a smile.

“I’m Eric. It’s nice to meet you, Minji.” The two of you share a laugh despite the unconventional circumstances. “Weird question, are you Korean?”

“Wah, that’s a good guess. How’d you know?” Minji tilts her head like a curious puppy, causing your heart rate to skyrocket. You can’t fathom how someone can be this cool, cute, and pretty all at the same time.

“Your name,” you explain. “I live in Korea for work, so I’ve gotten used to hearing Korean names.”

“Really? What do you do for work?” 

“I work at the embassy in South Korea representing my country. I’m actually in Paris for the International Summit this week.”

“Oh wow, that’s so cool!” Minji’s eyes light up with wonder, her smile making you forget about the dire situation you’re in.

“Hehe, thanks! What about you, what do you do for work?”

“I, um…” She hesitates, lost in thought. “I’m here for Paris Fashion Week.”

“That makes sense, you’re very beautiful,” you suddenly blurt out. Your eyes grow wide with shock at your own words. “I-I mean, uh-”

“No, it’s okay. That’s very sweet.” A light pink hue graces her cheeks as she smirks at you. “So, is this your first time in Paris?”

You let out a sigh of relief, thankful that she didn’t take your compliment weirdly. “Yeah, it’s my first time. I was gonna go out and see the city for a bit since I’ll be swamped with work for the next couple of days, but now I’m… here.”

She nods in understanding. “That’s what I was doing too. It’s difficult to find a moment to myself because of my job. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a ton of fun, but sometimes I feel like a robot following orders, not really being able to live.”

The space between you falls silent in contemplation. You know that feeling all too well. You love that you’re able to help thousands of people every day by being a voice for the people who need it, but work can often get in the way of what you want to do. When was the last time you spent time with your family? Or sat down with a good book? Or went on a date? When was the last time you were able to breathe?

“If you weren’t stuck in here right now, what would you be doing?” You ask in hopes that it will lift the mood.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Probably walk around and take pictures of all the pretty lights. Maybe get some ice cream if there are any shops open.”

Your ears perk up. “Ice cream? In the winter?”

Minji puts her arms up in defense. “Before you go judging me, just try it for yourself first, alright?”

“No, I like it too!” You exclaim, surprised that you found someone that thinks like you. “I don’t like waiting until summer just to eat ice cream. It tastes better during winter anyways.”

“Oh my god!” Minji jumps up in excitement. “Finally, someone who gets it! All my friends called me weird for eating ice cream when it’s cold outside!”

Enthused by her energy, you stand up to meet her. “They just don’t understand that it doesn’t melt as quickly so you get to enjoy it for longer.”

“Right?!”

You suddenly find yourself inches away from her face, staring into her big, round eyes. The subtle heat of her breath brushes against your cheeks, warming your entire body. You would gladly spend forever stuck in this moment with her, watching the reflection of the universe in her eyes.

As the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. Minji pulls away, leaving you breathless. You quickly change the subject before the air between you gets too awkward to the point of no return.

“So… Paris Fashion Week. How’d you get involved with that?”

Much to your relief, Minji eases up, leaning against the wall as she turns to you. “I was invited by Chanel to come and watch their show, and I’ve always loved fashion so there was no way I was going to decline the invitation.”

“Oh, you’re watching the show? I assumed that you were modeling for them,” you say.

She chuckles to herself, blushing slightly. “Are you sure you didn’t break the elevator on purpose just so you could flirt with me?”

“N-no, I didn’t, I swear!” You stutter, flustered. Minji cackles like a hyena at your expression, causing you to keel over in laughter yourself from the insane sound coming out of her mouth. The sound of joyous laughter from two strangers fills the small elevator, unsure of how much time has passed or if you’re ever going to get out of there. You wonder what would’ve happened if the elevator worked normally. Would you be here talking like this? Or would the two of you go about your night without a single word shared between each other? Sure, seeing the streets of Paris would have been great, but would it have been as great as this?

Both of you find yourselves lying side by side, staring up at the bright fluorescent light, your stomachs aching from laughter. Despite it being your first meeting, you can’t help but feel like you’ve known her your whole life. Maybe it’s the same way survivors of a big tragedy bond through shared trauma or something like that.

“Do you really not know who I am?” Minji asks after a long silence. You rack your brain for any possible memories of ever seeing her, but only a faint silhouette appears in your mind.

“Sorry, I really don’t,” you answer. “Oh god, don’t tell me we’re old classmates or something. I would feel terrible if we used to be friends and I didn’t know.”

Her laugh tickles your ear like spring grass brushing against your legs. “No, it’s not like that. Honestly, it feels kinda nice that you don’t know anything about me. No expectations, no questions, no nothing. You just treat me like…. a regular human being,” she sighs.

“Now I’m kinda scared to ask who you are,” you quip, catching a smile from her. “Maybe I don’t have it as bad as you, but I can relate to you somewhat. There’s a lot of people depending on me to make the right decisions and if I miss up even a little bit, so many people get affected by it. If I get recognized in the streets, sometimes they’ll outright tell me what to do, talking about how their families would suffer because of me or outright threatening me to do what they want. It feels like I’m constantly walking on a tightrope being held by two sides that hate each other. No matter what I do, someone is always unhappy.”

Minji meets your eyes in mutual understanding. “That sounds really tough. I’m sorry, Eric.”

Such a simple gesture, yet one that you desperately needed. Talking to her feels like a massive weight is being lifted off of you. The amount of silent suffering you’ve had to endure over the years is finally being unloaded without judgment. With how many people’s lives you affect every day, you never truly realized just how lonely you feel. Thanks to Minji, you feel a little less alone.

“So, what is that you do?” You ask to lift up the mood. “I’ve been dying to know. I’m assuming you’re a celebrity of some kind?”

She smirks at you. “Have you ever heard of New Jeans?”

And then it clicks. You’ve seen her face plastered everywhere in Korea, billboards, ads, commercials, less than 24 hours ago you walked past her face in the airport right before you left. While you aren’t the biggest Kpop fan in the world, you would be lying if you said you didn’t have Hype Boy in your playlist for a solid month.

“Ah, so that’s why you looked so familiar. I’m glad you’re not a classmate I forgot about,” you joke.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if we were friends in another lifetime. You’re very easy to talk to.” Minji meets your eyes, casting that warm smile that makes you feel at ease. You forget that you’re in this tiny box with no way out but patience. You forget that in less than 24 hours, you’ll be surrounded by the most important figures in the world, attending a conference that can impact billions of people across the globe. You forget about your feelings of loneliness, anxiety, and stress that you’ve been feeling recently. As you look into Minji’s eyes, all you can think about is her. Her kindness. Her radiance. Her laugh. Just her.

The elevator begins to shake around you, rumbling to life. Your eyes shut, bracing for impact, but all you feel is the gradual descent of the elevator before it lands on the first floor. You and Minji stand up, not a word exchanged between the two of you. Is this… it? Is it over? Are you just supposed to go your separate ways now?

The doors open to reveal the owner of the hotel on the other side, relief and guilt painted on his sweaty face. “I-I am terribly sorry about the elevator, are you two alright?” He asks.

As you reassure him of your safety, you notice Minji quickly slipping past, donning her mask and hat. You decline the owner’s offer of a free spa day and chase after her.

Minji is an idol. Intimidatingly gorgeous, held to an impossibly high standard that she somehow manages to exceed at every turn. Despite that, she’s also kind, humorous, and down to Earth, nothing like many of the celebrities you’ve seen on social media. Even in your brief meeting, she understood you. She wanted to understand you. You can visit Paris again sometime in the future. But Minji? You’ll never meet a person like her again.

You push through the doors, hit by the frigid winter air as a gentle dusting of snow falls upon Paris. Minji stands at a cross walk, her silhouette covered by unmistakable, and you quickly catch up to her. “H-hey, hi, um…” The words get caught in your throat as nervousness overwhelms you. Can you really do this? Would you be able to make this work with your busy schedules? Maybe, maybe not. But you’ll never know if you don’t try.

“Would you want to get a cof-”

“Yes,” Minji interrupts you, her voice lilting with enthusiasm. “I would love to have coffee. With you.” The snowfall catches in her eyes, glimmering with hope and excitement.

All the nerves you felt moments ago completely wash away, replaced by disbelief and an indescribable happiness in your heart. Minji intertwines her fingers with yours, warming your body against the cold as the two of you cross the street towards the cafe and the rest of your lives.

[g1rlr0b1n]

Yet another commission by the amazingly talented @ookamihanta!!! Go check out their page to see more art!!! Their commissions are still open so go check that out as well!!! I highly recommend them!!! 🦉

Into the Owl's Nest (Preview)

Damian's eyes snapped open and he jolted up in bed, gasping for air as if he had been drowning. His skin was clammy and his heart raced in his chest. As his senses returned, the cold, musty scent of damp stone and earth filled his nostrils. He strained to see in the darkness, but could only make out the faint outline of a room surrounding him. The distant sound of rushing water echoed through the space, causing a shiver to run down his spine. With a sinking feeling in his gut, Damian realized that he must be deep underground, and he realized where he must be. This was the Owl’s Nest.

The faint clicking of heels echoed on the stone ground, growing closer with each step. He strained his eyes against the darkness as he searched for an escape. Too late. The door creaked open and a woman glided in, her form encased in a skin-tight nylon suit, feathers adorned the top of her cape. Her blonde hair was pulled back tightly, emphasizing her fierce features, while a mask obscured her eyes. Damian maintained a stoic expression as she spoke, her words dripping with disdain, "so, you must be Talia's brat," she spat. Her eyes roamed over his form, obscured by the mask she wore. The coldness in her voice matched the chill in the air, sending shivers down his spine. Her eyes narrowed behind the intricate mask, scanning him from head to toe with a mixture of curiosity and contempt. The silence between them was thick with tension but Damian maintained his composure.

When he did not speak she continued, “your father wishes to see you.” Damian's muscles tensed at the mention of his father but he remained still, not daring to give her any satisfaction. Not even when she glided across the room, her movements fluid like a predator stalking its prey did he move to get up from the bed. With a swift motion, she pulled him up by his arm, her long nails digging into his flesh. He gritted his teeth against the pain, knowing better than to show weakness. She dragged him along, her grip unrelenting, until they reached a large open space. A wall was lined with computers and equipment, and there, behind the glow of computer screens, sat a man clad in all back. The Owlman.

The man slowly turned to face him, his expression unreadable. "I hope you don't mind," he began in a smooth, almost mocking tone, "your mother and I decided it would be best if I took custody of you." Damian felt a surge of anger rise up in the pit of his stomach, a rage that was only met by the man's cruel smile.

"You killed my mother," Damian growled through gritted teeth, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“I suppose that’s true,” he shrugged carelessly, “it pained me to do so, I loved her-”

"Obsession is not love," Damian spat out bitterly, his control slipping as memories from last night flooded back. "That's not love...and when you couldn't have her..." His voice trailed off, trembling, as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Damian had loved his mother more than anything, and this man had taken her away from him without a second thought.

The man's eyes hardened and for a moment, Damian could see the darkness lurking behind them, "let it be a lesson to you then," he sneered. "You may share my blood, but if I have no use for you, you can join her."

Damian was smart enough to know when someone was bluffing, and this man was not, he was well aware that this man would snuff him out the moment he stepped out of line. Refusing to show any weakness, Damian stood tall and pushed aside his emotions. "What use do you have for me then, father?" he asked, maintaining a calm and collected façade despite the turmoil within.

His features twisted into a smirk, “I’m glad you asked,” he stood from his chair to tower over the boy, “As you may or may not be aware, Ultraman was our esteemed leader until his most recent and unfortunate demise. His twisted obsession with his other selves was finally his downfall. Ironic.” The glint of joy in his eyes betrayed his words. “There are a few would be successors but of course I have my preference.” 

Owlman paused as if waiting for Damian to ask a question but Damian knew there was only an answer he sought. And Damian was nothing, if not adaptable. “Naturally, it should be you, father," he replied smoothly. He’d play along for now, he’d tell the crazed man whatever assurances he needed to hear. Afterall, he was somewhere underground surrounded by enemies, and if he hoped for any chance of survival, he’d have to be smart about it.

“Smart boy,” he scoffed, then continued, “Ultraman leaves behind his wife and son, Lois has already begun pushing for Jor-El to claim his father’s seat but he is just a child. Barely 19. He needs…” he paused again as if searching for the right words, “a friend more than a title.”

Damian raised an eyebrow in question, “you wish me to befriend him?”

“Sure…and who knows what may happen once you two become close.” Owlman shrugged, a wicked smirk spread across his features, contorting them into a menacing expression.

Damian racked his brain for meaning. Did his father want him close to Jor-El to distract him, to manipulate him, or to kill him? Did his father even care as long as he could take power? Finally, Damian broke the silence with a slow, measured voice. “I can only assume you have some means for me to arrange a meeting with him?”

“Of course,” he motioned toward the blonde woman who had been lurking in the corner. “Beth, please ensure that Damian is presentable for this evening's introduction to the rest of the Syndicate. Make him look…enticing.”

Damian suddenly became aware of another possibility.

[thecoffeelorian]

Fandom Friday, 07/26: Fanart

Hello again, everyone...and welcome back to a slightly shortened, though hopefully no less interesting, Fandom Friday update.

Firstly...wow. It's been quite the week here on my end of the universe, and if anybody's taken even five seconds to look at the news, it's probably rather easy to figure out why. 😅

Second...I had a rough day or two over the past weekend where some health issues decided to creep up on me, so. As a result of unforeseen circumstances, I may need another week to catch up on lost fanfictions, and I hope it's not too late to start apologizing for my recent sluggishness.

Anyways. Before I get too off topic here, it's time to bring in my picks of the week, so let's get straight to them all below!

THE ACOLYTE

The Acolyte Fanart--By @blessyo4:

THE PREQUELS

The Prequels Fanart--By @ann-i-inthestars:

The Prequels Fanart--By @bellum-gero:

THE CLONE WARS

The Clone Wars Fanart--By @enzoo-art:

The Clone Wars Fanart--By @alabyte:

THE BAD BATCH

The Bad Batch Fanart--By @keef-a-corn:

The Bad Batch Fanart--By @nika6q:

THE MANDALORIAN

The Mandalorian Fanart--By @fimloly:

The Mandalorian Fanart--By @haat-ade-rise:

In conclusion, as part of my mission to poke around the Star Wars fandom and, on Friday every week, highlight those artists who might otherwise go unnoticed…I hope you will check out the links I have included for yourselves and like, comment on, and reblog them, as well as also giving the artists a few more followers to their Tumblr pages.

Please also like and reblog this latest installment so that these links can be spread around to as many other fans as possible, just in case not all of them can tune in at the same time.

An additional thank you goes to @djarrex for making the divider I used earlier in this post, but still want to give credit for.

And finally, so that I do not forget…thank you to my friends, thank you to this fandom, good afternoon, and good luck.

No Pressure Tags Go Out To:

@theweepingvulcan91 @libraryfordyslexics @olafur-neal @theunknownartist1 @bluedeedeedoop

@crazyinspirationaldreams @theosb0rnway @gun-roswell @melymigo @skellymom

@cinnamonsugar-pretzel @its-time-to-rise-above @vaderkin-is-a-lightning-rod @universitysunflowers

@tazmbc1 @thegreenspectr @leos-multifandom-corner @badbatchposts @sharpasanaro

@tlmtwelve @thatflatfrog @nadjem-mari @leenabb104104

@difuf @rott1ngbra1n @saviinika @everybirdfellsilent @algo-o-nada

@botherdv @justhereforthesherlock @sportlover4life @aelfgiure @typewriters-and-love-letters

@maggie-dylan and anybody else who might be on the lookout for new and interesting fanart.

See you all in the next update!

[kimageddon]

A Prince of Dathomir - 117

-|- Page header by space-b33 -|- Masterlist -|- Prince of Dathomir Masterlist -|- Sins of the Father Masterlist -|- Art Masterlist -|- Check out my : Ko-fi / AO3 -|- Commissions Open -|- My Patreon -|- My Linktree -|- Join/Leave my tag list -|-

Maul x Nightsister OC (Zaiya Valessa) - Slight Canon Divergence

Word count: Approx 2700

Contains/Warnings: Child Death, Death, mentions of abuse and child abuse.

Chapter Summary: The Family deal with the aftermath of their hunt, and take the spoils of it.

Notes: (At the end, and a special announcement!)

Hunt - Part 2

Zaiya stared down at the Jedi as she faded, her face was serene. It was almost unnerving to witness. A grim look crossed Zaiya’s features, watching as Feral reached down and plucked the now forgotten lightsaber from the forest floor. 

A wheeze drew her attention back to the fallen Padawan. Zaiya said nothing as she approached, and knelt beside the dying teenager. He was such a fighter, but there was nothing that could be done to help him now. 

The Nightsister pursed her lips and looked into his eyes. 

She raised her blade. 

“Mon-monster,” he hissed through gurgling breaths and blood spattered lips. 

“I know.” 

She brought her blade swiftly across his throat, ending his suffering. It didn’t make her feel any better. 

“Let’s go,” Feral said as he picked up the boy’s lightsaber from beside the body.

“Not yet,” Zaiya replied firmly. “They were headed to the village. There’s clones there, we can deliver their payload--” she gestured to the Padawan’s pack, “and leave the bodies to be taken care of in whatever way the Jedi see fit.” 

Feral was silent for a moment. 

“Why?” he asked, with obvious disdain. 

“Because--” she scoffed. She was at a loss, but this was important. “Because I said so.” Feral shot her a wary look. Zaiya fixed him with an emotive stare. “I need your help with this, Feral. I can… I will try to explain later. Please.” 

There was a moment of tense silence. Eventually, the Nightbrother’s shoulders slumped and he rolled his eyes. 

“Fine, we will appease your sense of honour,” he huffed. 

----

There was a hollowness in Zaiya’s chest. Killing the child had not been the intention. She had reacted on pure instinct to an attack. 

Monster, he called her. Well. She supposed she’d truly earned that now. 

The two Dathomirians had wrapped the bodies, for travel, and waited until the cover of night. They carried the Jedi along with the pack they had been so worried about back to the village. They were left where they would be quickly found, and by that time, Zaiya and Feral would be back on the ship. 

“Were you unsuccessful?” Maul asked, as soon as he saw Zaiya’s face. She returned looking glum and surly. 

“We got them,” Feral said as he joined Zaiya in the main compartment. “But there was… well…” 

“Did you know that one of the Jedi was a Padawan? A child?” 

“Is that what this is about?” Feral asked. “He was hardly an infant.”

“He was still a kid,” Zaiya protested. “I do not kill children! We do not kill children!” Maul looked at her with a frown, his arms folded over his chest. 

“A Jedi, is a Jedi,” he said slowly. 

“We are not Sith.” Zaiya hissed. “We are not like Him. We are not like the Jedi that draft younglings into war. We are not the Sith that sacrifice babies for power. We are not maniacs that send little girls into the unknown with strangers--” she cut herself off and took a breath, trying to bring her rage to heel. After a moment she managed to gather herself. She looked at Feral and Maul in turn, her eyes sparking with emotion and intent. 

“We are not who made us,” she said emphatically. Maul took a moment, seeming to think over her argument. She could tell he did not fully agree, but eventually he nodded and stepped closer. He laid a warm hand on her shoulder. 

“If it is so important to you, I will concede this, even if I do not fully grasp this,” he said quietly. “We are not who made us, perhaps you are right.” Zaiya let out a heavy sigh, finding more relief than she expected in his answer. 

“Thank you,” she said softly. 

“Do not release your anger so readily, Lieutenant,” Maul countered. He looked between her and Feral, “for now, you must use it.”

----

Maul set them up on a distant planet. Far from the one in which they’d killed the Jedi. A place private, dark, and secluded. A planet where their connection for the Force would be strong, and not disturb the inner workings of a ship in mid-flight. Savage had joined them on the planet for this excursion, and Treshan left in charge of the Temptress temporarily.

Feral and Zaiya sat opposite each other. A circle drawn in the dirt at the mouth of a cave. Savage sat by a small fire he’d made behind them, Maul stood with the lightsabers in hand. 

Huge dark jagged rocks seemed to have erupted out of the earth like gigantic knives of volcanic glass. There was ash in the air and on her tongue. The Force surrounded them, Zaiya could feel it here, but it was different. Electric, prickling at her skin. It was not like the cold familiar darkness of Dathomir, this was harsher. 

“To bleed a kyber crystal, you must pour all of your anger into it… fracturing it into something new and powerful, but far wilder,” Maul held out the lightsabers and tossed one to each of them. Zaiya stared down at the Padawan’s lightsaber she’d caught with clear hesitation. After a moment, Feral held out the hilt that had belonged to Avona. 

“Here,” he said quietly. Zaiya looked between it and him curiously. 

“It isn’t mine to claim,” she said, a little confused. Feral reached over to take the Padawan’s lightsaber back. 

“We’ll swap, this one suits you better anyway,” he replied, and laid Avona’s black and white saber in Zaiya’s hand. Feral looked at her, a soft expression on his face. He knew how the kid’s death bothered her now, and likely knew how much trouble she would have using his crystal. 

“A kind gesture, brother,” Maul interrupted as Zaiya accepted the slimmer hilt. “But kindness has no place here.” He gestured to the weapons. “Dismantle them.” Feral tried to twist the saber between his hands but Maul held up his own. “With the Force,” he clarified with the slightest of smirks. For Maul, it may as well have been a laugh. 

Zaiya closed her eyes, reaching out with the Force. The air around her rippled, the Lightsaber seemed to resist. She’d heard that the crystal chose the Jedi… if that were true, could she ever make this one hers? 

The weapon hovered in the air before her, the pieces didn’t seem to want to separate, but after a moment of persuasion, the lightsaber broke apart into individual components, pieces that made up Avona Teller falling away to leave the crystal floating and glowing green before her. 

Her eyes opened, and she turned, to see Feral was doing the same with his, the crystal before him felt different to hers, she could feel the minute differences, almost hearing the different melodies in the Force from the crystals, the planet, and each one of them. 

“Now, focus your attention on your emotions, your anger, your pain, find what is the most agonising, and funnel it into your crystals,” Maul instructed, his smooth and breathy voice urging her into the dark once again. 

Zaiya closed her eyes again, letting herself fall, digging into the pain she’d felt in her life. The boy, Farley. Leaving Dathomir. The manipulation of her mentor. Loss of friends. Of her freedoms. The torture and mutilation. 

The sound of the Force became loud and screeching in her ears. She reached out with her mind. The world shook as she pushed the feelings out, letting them flow through her. 

The crystal hummed and vibrated, shimmering green like her eye… it began to change. Shimmer and sparking with the light turned electric and dark. The colour shifted, turning darker… Redder. Angrier. The colour of her home planet. The colour of her lover’s skin. 

Zaiya let out a cry of anguish and heard another echoing in her ears. It felt good. It felt freeing. She could feel the music return to her like a symphony in her ears, notes of sorrow and longing and despair. Of agony. Of tragedy. She felt it run through her as the crystal before her shook, and cracked down the centre. 

Suddenly she felt herself splitting, tied to the crystal as the pain she poured into it was rebounded against her. The scar on her face stung, like it was burning flesh once more, searing her eye away and right through her skull. It was as though the kyber crystal itself was striking back against her. 

Zaiya cried out and collapsed, sweating and leaning forward, hands in the black dust, trying to catch her breath. One eye opened, her nexus eyes squeezed shut from the pain. 

Before her lay the kyber crystal, glowing faintly, red and pulsing with the remnant anger and pain. A violation of the natural gem. 

Split in half.

 A few stray white hairs fell into her face as she pushed herself back up. Beside her, Feral was panting too, though he lay on the ground, covered in the ash and dust all over. His gaze slid to hers and he gaze a tiny nod. 

“Well done,” Maul’s voice cut through the thick silence and the two Dathomirians looked up. The crimson Zabrak stepped forward and reached out a hand to Zaiya, helping her up. Her knees were weak but still, she stood, her crystal now in hand. 

“I think I went too far,” she said, holding out her hand. The two pieces of the gem sat in the palm of her glove, Maul leaned over, looking at it carefully, she thought she could see him smirking. 

“We shall see,” was all he said, before turning to assist his brother to his feet. With a gesture, he guided them to follow him, leading them both back to the cave and where Savage awaited them.  

His big golden eyes seemed concerned as he looked them both over; exhausted, dirty, sweaty and generally ragged. Before she could say anything, he tossed something at her and she jerked to catch it with her free hand. It was a bottle. 

“You look thirsty,” was his only explanation. She couldn’t help it, Zaiya cracked, laughing and nearly doubling over. She didn’t even know why it was so funny. 

The three looked back at her for a moment, confused. Then Savage snorted, and Feral started cackling… even Maul let out a chuckle. The odd tension across the group of them seemed to ease, the laughter interrupted by mechanical footsteps approaching. Sixy looked over the four of them and tilted his head in a way that designated a roll of the eyes.

[Organics,] he said with exasperation.

----

“What are you thinking about?” Zaiya asked a very quiet Savage as the fire was dying down. Savage lifted his head to find three pairs of glinting almost glowing eyes looking back at him, and made a slight shrugging motion. The droid had set on doing scans of the area so it was just family. 

“I have been… trying to put my memories back, not all of them make sense.” he admitted. “Jumbled, I think. I don’t remember everything yet. Especially the time in the village. There’s a lot of time missing.”

He felt Feral’s shift in the Force, and Zaiya’s expression softened. 

“Do you want me to…?” she raised a hand and a tiny spark of green ignited in her hand. Savage flinched slightly, and the spark vanished, Zaiya’s eyes widening slightly. Damn, she’d seen that. Savage gave a sigh, inwardly cursing himself. 

“It’s alright, I think I have had enough of Nightsister magick for a while,” he said with a slight grimace. 

“Understood,” she replied, and sat back. “Is there anything else we can do to help?” The big Zabrak just chuckled. 

“It is not the Sith way to offer help,” he said sardonically. This time Zaiya frowned. 

“We’re not Sith,” Feral interjected vehemently before she could say so.

“Well we aren’t Jedi either,” Savage replied, and all of them made a slight disgusted face. At least in that they were in agreement. 

“We don’t have to be either,” Zaiya suggested and Maul made a low noise in his throat. She gave him a sharp look and his hands clenched for a moment. 

“I do not know anything different,” Maul began. “Before my training I… I have flashes--” he gestured to Zaiya, “--the memories you showed me are just images, but they are intertwined with nightmares from my former Master. He trained me in the Dark, in pain and anger and rage… rage is all I know, all I feel…” He huffed out a breath. “Or… it was.” He looked between them. “This, having a family, is against everything I was taught, even now I feel I should--” he cut himself off with a snarl. 

Savage knew what he meant. A Master and an Apprentice. Only two, and yet, there were four of them. Savage guessed the teachings warned him to get rid of the two weaker members of their group. Savage also knew that meant he and Feral. Though now he would be able to give Zaiya a run for her credits with all his recent training. 

“I know,” he said calmly. “The training robs you of anything connected to your old life, any memories you might have, especially happy ones.” 

“When I fought the boy… he reminded me of you,” Zaiya said suddenly, looking between them. “All of you. I remembered the way you carried yourselves when we were small. It made me think… if we do the same as those that took our childhoods from us…” She shook her head. 

“I… know what you mean,” Maul said thoughtfully. “When I battled the Jedi - my first Jedi kill, it was a Twi’lek girl, not much older than we were. Eldra Kaitis.”

“I remember,” Zaiya nodded.

“There was a moment. She looked at me and for just the slightest moment, her eyes looked just like yours, Zaiya,” he confessed. Savage’s eyes widened. 

“I remember you telling us about this,” he said, looking at Zaiya. She had explained how she had buried the Jedi before escaping the moon and crashing the ship into its surface. 

“Zaiya told me once that it would stay with me, this death, and she was right, even so many years later and I can see it. In my mind’s eye so very clearly.” The former Sith looked away for a moment, lost in thought. 

“You were manipulated, sire,” Zaiya said quietly. “We all were, but we can be more than that.”

“We are not who made us,” Maul said in a tone that indicated a new understanding. “So this is what you meant.” He looked at Zaiya. 

“Yes,” she replied. “The Nightsisters, Mother Talzin, the Sith-- those paths do not hold meaning for us anymore.”

“It will not be so easy,” Savage countered, “if I still struggle with the Dark Side, I cannot imagine how much worse it is for you, brother.” 

“When has anything in any of our lives been easy?” Feral interjected. Savage had to admit, he had a point. 

“We are neither Nightsister, Nightbrother, Sith nor Jedi. We make ourselves into something all of our own. We are a family, are we not?” There was a silence between the group as they let the words settle over them. 

“Aren’t you a Dawnsister?” Feral asked after a while. Zaiya chuckled. 

“Perhaps.” 

“If we are neither Light nor dark, then what are we?” Savage asked with a frown, “grey?” 

“I always thought we were more colourful than that,” Feral replied with a wry grin. “I mean the planet was red, are we walking a red path now? Sounds rather messy.” He was joking but Maul finally looked up. 

“Crimson,” he said quietly. Savage looked between them and was a second behind his brother. 

“You’re right,” Savage said, and gestured to the three Nightbrothers, “crimson,” he pointed to Zaiya, “dawn.” 

“Well that has a ring to it, doesn’t it?” Zaiya chuckled. “Just like the mornings of Dathomir.” 

“We have a ship, bounty hunters that we can call on, we just need a more solid hold in the galaxy,” Savage offered. 

“That is the plan, brother,” Maul nodded. “Do you believe your… associates are reliable?”

“I do,” Zaiya said firmly. 

“Then, it is time for Crimson Dawn to rise in the Galaxy,” Maul said with a wicked curve of his lip. 

A moment later, Zaiya’s communicator began to beep. She held it up. 

[This is Siren.]

[My Lady? This is Slick, I believe we may have a lead for you. Have you ever heard of the Spice runners on Horven Prime?]

Notes:

HAPPY THREE YEAR ANNIVERSARY! I mean technically it's tomorrow but I'm not waiting. But yes… it's been three years since I first published the very first chapter of APOD. Good grief, time goes by so fast. In honour of that… here is a chapter of angsty goodness.

I've done these before and usually I like to prepare ahead of time, but yknow, better late than never, right? In celebratory post, why don't you guys ask me some questions? Ask about the fics I write or me, or if you like, ask a question to the characters themselves. Wanna ask Siren a question? Or Maul? Or Adaji? Or any of them??? Send me some questions, just specify who you're asking and keep it respectful please.

In the meantime, I should probably write some more. I have had a lot on so writing is a bit difficult, however, things are good. ^^ I appreciate every one of you and as always I love comments, shares, likes, all that jazz cos your engagement is directly linked to my motivations. It's like fuel! (burnout aside ofc) I hope you all are doing well and I shall see you next time!

----

Tags: (If your name is crossed out then check your settings or username -- Tumblr is not letting me tag you!) @alwayssnivellus @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @ashotofspotchka @justalittletomato @nahoney22 @eloquentmoon @stardustbee @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @the-rain-on-kamino @bacarasbabe @lifeless-being @lazarithebellydancingmime @robotswithscarves @herbalinz-of-yesteryear

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[scribesofcalamity]

We took my sweet bean in for her CT scan and biopsy today.

The tumor is huge, and the disease is into her spine and a majority of the bone. The vet stated it is inoperable because of the spine area. Our only options were trying chemotherapy which was out of state (and won't be possible for us) , or moving to palliative care.

We are upping her pain medications to keep her comfortable for now. Once her quality of life is no longer at a sustainable level, and she's having more bad days than good, we'll do the same at home euthanasia we did for Blaze so that she can cross over safe and warm in her own space. Until then, she's getting maximum cuddles and treats. Cheza has not been very interested in food but will eat if you slowly hand feed her. She's been getting chicken, eggs, fish bits. And frankly whatever the heck she wants from now on that isn't poisonous.

I can't describe how much my heart is breaking. Cheza is my soul pup. I waited a year on the waitlist for her. I met her the week after she was born. I picked between her and one of her sisters. The little swirl on the back of her head prompted my choice. She came home with me the week after my Poppie passed away and during a time when I was severely struggling with my own mental health. She's been there for all the big moments in our lives since then. She's the prettiest, friendliest little pup I've ever seen and everyone always loves her the moment they meet her. She has filled these last 4 years with so many fun and beautiful memories. I don't know what we're going to do without her.

Everyone has been so unbelievably kind and supportive as my partner and I go through this tragedy. I want to thank all of you. Every kind word, every share of my art posts, every donation and commission, has meant the world to me. I love you guys and I'll never be able to fully express my gratitude. Keep us in your prayers. Please give all your furballs a big kiss and hug from me.

Commissions are still open and you can check the status of any currently open ones on the pinned commission post on my art pages. I couldn't make myself do anything other than hold her and cry today but I promise I'll get back to them tomorrow.

[dirtywrestling]

Secret Crush - Colt Cabana (18+)

Commission: @xcrypticwenchx

Pairing: Colt Cabana x Kris

Summary: Colt Cabana hears Nyla Rose joke about Kris' crush on him and he takes matter in his own hands.

Warnings: 18+ Blog, Making Out/Kissing in Public

Word Count: 1,107

Follow My Back Up Blog!: @dirtywresling102

Note: I apologize for it coming out so late, I hope you enjoy it!

“So, like when you’re alone in your bed does your mind start to wander off thinking about-”

I glared at my friend, Nyla Rose who was sitting across the table from me. “Don’t even say his name.” I hissed at her to be quiet.

“What!” She laughed, grabbing her water bottle. “I wasn’t gonna say his name.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Colt Cabana.” She quickly added before bringing her water bottle to her lips, taking a sip. 

The hot embarrassment of Nyla Rose calling out my crush creeped up on my cheeks, sliding down in my chair to hide myself away. I groaned, telling Nyla about my crush towards the other wrestler was a bad idea. “Oh relax.” She twisted the top of her water bottle back on. “He didn’t hear me.” Nyla snickered.

My eyes cast towards the group of wrestlers Colt was talking to, a few members of the Dark Order and Adam Page. Colt smiled and laughed loudly at the joke Adam had told. Colt shook his head, his eyes looking towards my table and gave me a wave.

Gaining whatever courage I had, I gave him a shy wave back. “Please, he’s right over there. He could hear you.” I begged Nyla. 

Nyla looked over her shoulder to see Colt was still talking to Adam, most likely going over what they wanted to do tonight since they’re facing one another in a singles match. “Look, they’re not even fazed about it, relax.” Nyla said, turning back to me. 

I cleared my throat, maybe she was right. Maybe Colt didn’t hear Nyla laughing at me and mentioning if I ever thought about him in bed. Sitting up more confidently in my chair I grabbed the unopened bag of chips. “Still, it’s not funny.” I murmured, not impressed that her favorite new thing was to humiliate me in public. 

“Well, you’re gonna have to tell him sooner or later.” Nyla spoke as she checked her nails. 

As I was fighting to open the bag of chips I gritted my teeth at how this sealed tight bag wasn’t opening. “No, I don’t-”

“Tell who?” A thick voice asked out next to me.

My grip on the bag slipped, roughly tearing it open, having all of the chips scatter on the surface of the table and my lap. Looking up to see who caused me my delicious chips, my eyes widened to see Colt standing there with a large smile on his face looking back and forth between myself and Nyla. 

“I, uh.” Looking over at Nyla who gave me an all knowing smirk. I swallowed and looked back up at Colt who was plucking my chips off the table and munching on them. “No one!” I squeaked out, my voice cracking slightly. 

“It’s someone.” Nyla confirmed nodding her head yes towards Colt who kept eating the free ranged chips. 

“Oh yeah?” He licked his lips, sucking the salt off of his fingers. My eyes were glued on his lips wrapped around his thick fingers, my mouth watered at the sight of him. “Who is it?” 

“Yeah, Kris. Who is it?” Nyla egged on wiggling her eyebrows as she was trying to get me to spill the name. 

“It’s no one.” I looked away, my face heating up hotter than before. My eyes darted towards the exit, maybe if I just made a run for it I can avoid this whole thing?

“Well, if she doesn’t wanna tell us her secret crush then fine.” Colt laughed. “But I do have to talk to you about something.” Colt’s eyes slid over to Nyla then back at me. “In private.” He cleared his throat. 

“Alright, I see how you are.” Nyla huffed wanting to know what Colt was going to talk to me about. 

“Uh, yeah sure.” I wasn’t too sure what Colt wanted to talk to me about but I scooted the chair out from underneath me and followed him out of the catering room, passing by other wrestlers that were relaxing before the show or eating so they didn’t have to stop off at a fast food chain.

As we turned the corner of an empty hallway I turned to look at Colt. “So, what are you wanting to- Oof.” I grunted out a breath as I was roughly pinned against the wall. My wide eyes looked up at Colt who was staring down at me, he had nearly more than a foot taller than me as he hovered over me. 

“So, before I do anything else. You want to tell me who your little crush is towards?” Colt asked, his eyes darker as he stared down at me. Swallowing the thick lump in my throat I opened my mouth to speak, collecting my thoughts I shut it again and shook my head ‘no’. Colt leaned down to my size, his warm breath fanning over my ear making me shiver. “I want you to know, I don’t appreciate the teasing.” 

My eyes rolled in the back of my skull as his thick voice was music to my ears, the goosebumps rippled down my spine. Colt was so close that his collonge was burning my nose but I kept inhaling, wanting to forever have that scent in my nostrils. “It’s you.” I whispered.

“What’s that, now?” Colt placed his large hand underneath my chin, making me look up in his brown eyes. “I couldn’t hear you from all the way down there.” Colt smirked, referring to how small I was compared to him. 

Briefly shutting my eyes, I inhaled his scent once more. “It’s you.” I said a bit louder, too embarrassed to open my eyes during the confession. Scared that Colt was going to be disgusted with me I stood still until he let me go or yelled at me. To my surprise, I felt plump lips upon mine. 

My eyes widened as Colt’s lips danced upon mine, his large hands upon my waist, pulling me closer to him. Melting against his touch, I kissed back while my eyes slowly fluttered shut. 

Soft moans escaped Colt’s lips as he slid his tongue between mine. Allowing him to explore, I granted him access, moaning as his tongue gilded and danced against mine. A soft whimper left my throat as Colt pulled away from the kiss. Dragging my tongue across my bottom lip, I opened my eyes to see him still towering over me with a smirk upon his lips.

“I don’t want you to keep any more secrets from me, you understand?” I nodded to Colt, agreeing that I wouldn’t be keeping anything from him anymore. “Good girl.” 

Colt Cabana Masterlist

[atomic-thomas]

(Fake ASMR Commission) Returning To Liminal Space [Part 3]

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

“Wow… I just can’t seem to stop thinking about that dream I had last night. It was so nice.”

“Wish I could time travel. Revisit old memories. It’d be one hell of a nostalgia trip.”

“Or maybe… I can. I remember when me & my friend were trapped in Liminal Space. Then after spending enough time there, we didn’t want to leave.”

“Maybe we can brainstorm a way to go back there. I hope they’re up for it. I’ll call them & see if we can give it a shot.”

*phone ringing sound*

“Hello?”

…

“Hey! It’s been a while. Ya know… I had a really cool dream last night. It put me in a nostalgic mood. You remember that time when we were in Liminal Space, right?”

…

“Well… I wanted to know if… You wanted to go back there.”

…

“Oh, awesome! That’s so exciting to hear. Glad we’re on the same page. There’s just one problem. I don’t know how to go back there.”

…

“Wait, really? YOU do? Well, spill the beans then. I need to know this.”

…

“What? That’s it? It’s really that simple?”

…

“So lemme get this straight. You were exploring the Abandoned Train Station in our town & just so happened to find a portal in the basement.”

…

“Okay, well… That’s great. I’m glad it’s so simple. But why that place specifically? And how has no one else found it yet?”

…

“Yeah, that’s fair. Can’t blame you for not knowing. Well, I’ll meet you there then. See you in a few.”

*phone hang-up sound followed by scene transition*

……….

“Heeeeey~! Wow, you weren’t kidding. There really is a portal here.”

…

“I can take a guess as to why. Perhaps this portal is here because… An Abandoned Train Station is an old place that’s stuck in time so to speak. Fits the theme of liminality. It makes perfect sense.”

…

“Yeah, let’s head on in. This place is really musty. Need better air to breathe.”

*portal traversal sound*

*sound of feet hitting ground*

“Woo! Look at that! We’re back in the mall. I remember it like it was yesterday.”

…

“Ya know… Part of the reason we find locations like this so nostalgic is due to their sense of… What was…”

…

“What I mean is… A mall is obviously built by people, right? But the people who built it… Are no longer there. This man-made structure is separated from those who created it. It makes the structure seem like it’s frozen in time. Stuck in the past. And that’s why it feels nostalgic.”

…

“By all means, let’s look around.”

……….

*door opening sound*

“Oooh, this looks like a video game store.”

…

“Yep. An old one at that. Check this out. There’s a Super Nintendo Entertainment System over here. It’s price tag says $200. Heh… If only consoles were actually that cheap nowadays.”

…

“This is definitely a 1990s gaming store. I can even see a copy of Donkey Kong Country in the console. Never played the game myself, but I heard it’s an old favorite of many.”

…

“It’s kinda funny. As a kid, I played so many video games. When you’re that young, you’ll enjoy just about anything. Even bad games that we look back on as adults with more insight & experience. Nowadays, my gaming library is quite shallow. I’m very picky about what I play these days.”

…

“Oooh, look at this. A PlayStation 1. It’s cool seeing this old thing given that the PS5 exists. I wonder what game is in it.”

*button clicking sound*

“No way! Spyro the Dragon! That’s amazing!”

…

“The original Spyro Trilogy were the first video games I ever played. This is just too much. My heart can’t handle this much nostalgia.”

…

“Yeah, I’m really glad that trilogy got a remake. We still don’t have a true Spyro 4 though. Wonder when that’ll happen.”

…

“Sure, we can find another room now. I’m gonna miss this one though.”

……….

*door opening sound*

“Woah!”

…

“Wow… Now this looks like something I’d see in a dream! We’re on a road… But the road is a ring around the Earth… And all we can see around us is outer space.”

…

“I wouldn’t question the logic in any of these bizarre rooms. I’ve accepted that if you can imagine it, you can find it in Liminal Space. Nothing is too weird if you suspend your disbelief. We don’t need an explanation as to how we’re able to breathe in space either.”

…

“I noticed that the door is attached to the back of this car here. Looks like it was made in the early 1900s. I wonder if we can drive it.”

*sound of car door opening & closing*

“Well, the door certainly wasn’t locked. And there’s keys in the ignition. Maybe this’ll really work.”

*sound of car starting up & remaining stationary until driven*

“Huh… Well then… I guess this is happening now.”

…

“Sure, we can drive for a bit. Gives me some time to talk about stuff.”

*car driving sounds until specified stopping point*

“So… Have you ever heard of Retro Futurism?”

…

“It’s a bit of a specific term, but simple enough to understand. Retro Futurism is when the future is depicted from a past era. Say for example… Someone from the 90s drawing art of what they think the 2020s would be like.”

…

“I know that sounds funny seeing how… When all is said & done… Society hasn’t really changed all that much in the past 30 years. At least I don’t think so.”

…

“Well, of course I’m not saying that we haven’t had any advancements in 30 years. That’d be silly. For example, we went from old box TVs & VHS tapes to 4K flatscreen TVs & digital streaming. Touch screens, voice commands… All kinds of things.”

“I remember when I was kid, I’d watch America’s Funniest Home Videos every Sunday Night on a CRT vintage TV. Now that’s nostalgia right there.”

“In regards to the visual aspect of Retro Futurism, there are forms of art that feel like they tried to look futuristic for their time. This can be seen in Psychedelic Art.”

…

“If you’re prone to seizures, I definitely wouldn’t recommend looking up Psychedelic Art, but if you can handle it, you’re in for a treat.”

“It’s art that consists of scenery painted with rainbow colors. Usually with flashing, swirling or wave-like motions. So you’ll typically find them in the form of gifs. To me personally, the nostalgic feeling of this art is linked to Retro Futurism. You can totally imagine it yourself, right? People from the 1900s drawing cities with neon lights thinking that the future would be like a whole new world with an advanced society.”

“But in reality, things didn’t actually change that much. Hell, cars that can fly & self drive are basically still prototypes today. I doubt those’ll be mainstream until the 2030s. Maybe even longer.”

…

“I can think of other forms of nostalgic art that aren’t necessarily Retro Futuristic. In fact… Just about any kind of art can be nostalgic depending on the person.”

“Imagine a blank canvas if you will. A black one at that. Now add some stars to it. Golden stars for good contrast against the jet black paper. Ones that sparkle. Now add the moon. A golden moon. Make it crescent for even more contrast. Now place a star within the crescent gap. What have we just made?”

…

“That’s right. A night sky. It’s simple. But as an old saying goes… There’s beauty in simplicity. A night sky is supposed to be calm. Beautiful. A natural work of art. It imbues a feeling of peace & tranquility within us. The art itself looks like something we could’ve made in Kindergarten. Like an arts & crafts project. A distant memory that we remember fondly. And that… Is nostalgic.”

“Furthermore, music can also trigger nostalgia. Typically, Liminal Space has it’s own dedicated genre of music. Dreamcore comes to mind. Usually consisting of somber tones or various ambience. But any music can be nostalgic depending on the person.”

…

“Hmmm… Wanna find a different room? This one is nice & all, but it’s basically just an endless road.”

…

“Yeah, that’s fine. Didn’t feel like driving anymore anyway.”

*driving sound stops*

……….

*door opening sound*

“GASP!”

…

“Oh My God… I… I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say.”

…

“Okay, so… To put it simply… This is the house I grew up in. And it’s in the same condition that it was in when I was 5 years old.”

“This is unreal. I recognize everything in here. Like this old pellet stove. Ahhh, I remember when we used to warm the house with this thing.”

…

“We stopped using it because it eventually started shooting soot & smoke into the house. For what reason, we don’t know. And we never bothered to fix it. So we relied on other heating methods.”

…

“Oh yeah. That’s the old box TV I mentioned earlier. Didn’t think we’d actually see it. This is so weird, but I love it!”

“My old Nintendo GameCube is here to. With all the games I used to own. I’m so happy right now! Haha~”

…

“Of course we can check out my room. That's the best part.”

…..

“Here we are. Jeez, the carpet is just as hideous as I remember. But I don't care. I adore it!"

...

"The carpet used to be white, but it kept getting dirtier & more stained over the years. Wasn't easy to clean either."

"Ahhh, & my cozy bed. With all my plushies & the flower pattern blanket. So comfy!"

...

"Glad you noticed my Windows XP computer. It may be a piece of junk... But it was MY piece of junk. It wouldn't be able to run any modern game, but it was perfect for what I used it for. Humongous Entertainment games. Those were the best."

"Wow, I feel old looking at all this.”

…

“I suppose it does feel a bit redundant to use the word ‘Old’ all the time. We’re in Liminal Space. Everything is old."

…

“All this stuff reminds me of simpler times. Nostalgia is a drug, ya know? We only ever get to experience our childhood once. And it’s the time when we have our fondest memories. Growing up, learning so many new things, not having any responsibilities… And having the most fun. It’s a time that many of us wish we could return to.”

…

“I’m glad that you’re enjoying this as much as I am. This is kinda like… A Liminal Date.”

…

“I could run around Liminal Space… Probably forever to be honest. Haha~ What about you? Wanna keep exploring?”

…

“Hehe~ You & I clearly share the same brain cell. We'll keep going after we spend some more time in my old house. I'm not done here yet.”

----------------------------------‐-----------------------------------

THE END

[cavalierious-whim]

Of Sweaters and Snow (His Vicious Taste)

Elliot and Lawrence indulge in a quiet night in for the holidays, and look over an old photo album.

Read here on AO3. You can also, follow me on Twitter and Blue Sky.

Thank you so much to Mrk for commissioning me to write Elliot and Lawrence! I'm honored that you trusted me with your babies uwu. Be sure to check out their Patreon here to catch the most recent updates of their webcomic! It's soooo good. :D

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--

It’s quiet—a little too quiet for Elliot’s taste. They prefer parties and chaos and enjoy needling others, but it’s a blustery cold night with the snow falling outside the window, and Lawrence requested a night in together. 

Elliot sits opposite him, sprawled across the couch, phone resting in their palm. They look up, head tilted, taking in the svelte form of their Master covertly, a grin spreading wide across their face. Lawrence is, as always, a handsome sight, all sharp angles and corded muscle. 

Out in the wild, he’s stiffer, colder, his harsh facade carefully cut from the same sort of crystal found in his fancy watches. Here, though, he’s dressed down. Loose and easy as he relaxes against the couch cushion, his book resting in his lap, and a glass of alcohol in one hand. He turns a page idly, eyes tracking the words as he drags a finger across them. 

Elliot huffs softly. It’s a cold night. Even the air inside is crisp and their woolen socks do nothing to keep their toes from nearly getting frostbit. They stretch a leg out, teasing the line of Lawrence’s thigh.

It garners no response, just another flip of a book page. Elliot pouts, digging their toes in harder, wiggling them against the hard muscle there. 

Finally, Lawrence’s hand moves, dropping to grab their ankle in a slightly too-tight pinch. “Pet,” he warns.

“I just want to cuddle.” Elliot knows they don’t have to ask, or even share their intentions. All it would take is scooting closer and Lawrence would open his arm without even a thought. Still. It’s fun to poke at him, to see just how far his buttons can be pushed. 

Lawrence looks up from his book, his gaze a strange cross between severe and affectionate. He loves it when Elliot pushes those buttons, and Elliot loves the punishment that often follows. But, not tonight, not yet; they are cold and craving closeness, something indulgent that comes hand-in-hand with the season.

Elliot moves, climbing across the cushions and flopping against Lawrence’s side. He grunts at the sudden weight and then sighs when Elliot drops against his lap. “I’m reading,” he reminds them, holding the book above Elliot’s face. 

“Yeah.”

“And you’re in my way.”

“Yeah.” Elliot’s, ‘What are you going to do about it?’ is heavily implied. 

Lawrence looks at them around the book and Elliot gives him a shit-eating grin in return. It’s comfortable, lying in his lap. Lawrence’s thighs cradle their head perfectly, and Elliot’s able to rest their phone against their chest as they scroll. 

Elliot half expects a terse reminder that Lawrence will allow it for now and be taken care of later, but he just… lets him, combing his fingers through Elliot’s hair for a moment as he considers them. Then, Lawrence shifts, settling his elbow against the arm of the couch to hold his book aloft. 

Well. How cozy. Must be the Christmas season, thinks Elliot as they watch Lawrence from a half-slitted gaze. 

It falls quiet again. Lawrence pets their hair idly as he remains engrossed in his book. Elliot kills time scrolling social media accounts and laughing idly at the occasional joke. It’s all storybook, holiday magic, the sort one would find in one of those corny movies. And really… they like it. How easy this moment feels. Two years in and they’ve learned exactly what this relationship is. Worries of will he’s and won’t he’s are a thing of the past, and Elliot has learned to read all of Lawrence’s cues.

Like his hand in their hair. Lawrence scrapes his fingers across Elliot’s scalp without a second thought. It chokes them up. It’s a little too soft, a little too sweet, and not that Lawrence doesn’t have some rounded edges, but—

Elliot’s phone buzzes in their hand, signaling a new text message. They blink away the thought, sliding their thumb across the screen. And then they laugh, sharp enough to pull Lawrence away from his book. 

“What are you—”

“Hang on, you’ve got to see this.”

“Pet.” Fond exasperation, not annoyance. 

Elliot files the sound of it away for a rainy day as they sit up and turn towards Lawrence. “Look. Ed sent a picture of him and his parents.” They tilt the phone so Lawrence can get a proper look at them decked out for the holidays in terrible Christmas sweaters.

Lawrence plucks the phone from Elliot’s hand and readjusts his glasses for a better look. A soft laugh falls from his mouth as he swipes over the screen to make the picture larger. Ed looks like a doofus, a crooked grin plastered across his face as he holds out the camera. His parents are on either side of him, grinning like fools, decked out in matching knitted glory. 

“They look ridiculous,” says Elliot, leaning against Lawrence’s shoulder. “I get the appeal but why—hey.” Elliot’s world tilts as the couch sinks underneath them.

“Wait here,” comes Lawrence's gentle command as he stands, and Elliot finds themselves rooted to the spot. It’s even-keel, watching Lawrence cross the room, the routine grounding. He plucks an old album from the bookshelf, to the surprise of Elliot, and once settled back on the couch, tugs them over. 

“Keeping secrets?”

The corner of Lawrence’s mouth twitches slightly. “Always,” is his smooth reply as he opens it. “This, however, isn’t so much a secret as it is something fond.”

Elliot hums softly, considering this. “You don’t seem the sentimental type.”

Lawrence is a relatively tight-lipped man. And yes, they know that he’s insufferably fond of Ed and was raised by his family, but even then… Lawrence isn’t typically personal. Elliot is an exception to many things, but there is much they still aren’t privy to. 

“I can hear your thoughts,” murmurs Lawrence, turning to look at Elliot thoughtfully. The skin around his eyes is creased slightly, wearing down his appearance. For this one moment, it’s easy to think they are a normal couple, that this is just a day off from work, that they’re winding down for the rest of the night. That the whiskey in Lawrence’s hand isn’t a crutch to loosen him after a tough day, and that Master and Pet are just silly pet names instead of a well-loved chain leashing them together. 

Elliot doesn’t want to smooth those wrinkles away, but they do reach out to trace them. A novelty. Lawrence’s mouth twitches into a just-barely-there smile reserved for them alone. 

“Every year,” says Lawrence then, pulling Elliot’s attention back to the photo book. “It’s a tradition, but—”

“Are you telling me there are photos of you wearing—” There are. Elliot trips on their words as Lawrence flips to an old set of polaroids detailing Ed, his parents, and Lawrence himself, all of them wearing Christmas sweaters. He’s instantly recognizable with a head full of auburn curls and that same, serious expression. 

Elliot has never seen a picture of him so young. They trace it with the pads of their fingertips. “Oh, this is priceless.”

“Precious, perhaps.” 

“I’m never letting you down for this. I’m going to tease you about it forever.”

“There are worse ones,” says Lawrence with a secretive smirk, gesturing to the album.

Elliot settles in and flips through it, tucked against Lawrence’s side. Lawrence settles his arm around their back. The rustle of the plastic and parchment slits through the room as Lawrence’s years pass before Elliot’s eyes. They change; Ed, Lawrence, and their parents. Each season brings a new set of sweaters, always matching. Lawrence grows taller, lankier, curls hanging in his face as his expression remains as stern as ever. 

“No acne?” they muse, looking at him. “Ever?” Another secretive smirk that leaves Elliot cackling. “These are… you’d never catch me sharing old pictures of me.”

Lawrence wouldn’t ask them to. Lawrence wouldn’t care much, thinks Elliot, but the weight of sharing these with them… Elliot regards the pictures both with humor and awe. 

“I’d never wear something so tacky. I’d look—”

“Perfect,” cuts in Lawrence. 

“Dreadful,” corrects Elliot dryly. 

Lawrence sets his glass down and reaches out to catch Elliot’s chin. “It would annoy Ed,” he teases.

“To be included?” Because that alone might make it worth it. Half of Elliot’s entire purpose is to be an absolute brat at times, and it’s so easy to pull Ed along.

“You’d look better than him.”

“Obviously.” Elliot flashes Lawrence a shit-eating grin that spells trouble. 

“You’d look perfect.” Lawrence’s grip on Elliot’s chin is a little too tight, just enough so that they gasp. A quick lean forward, a brush of their lips that spreads heat—and then Lawrence pulls away, leaving Elliot entirely bereft of that shared closeness. “Later,” he says, catching Elliot’s glance.

“Right,” they say, clearing their throat. “Besides, I want to see what else lurks in this album. I’m thinking… blackmail.”

“Oh? Against me? I welcome you to try.”

Lawrence’s tone is a little darker, promising a proper lesson to be learned—but he knows that Elliot would beg for it. And they will, later. But for now… Elliot leans over for a kiss against Lawrence’s mouth, catching him off guard. Lawrence would never admit to it, but he soaks the chaste feel of it right up, cupping Elliot’s face and thumbing over their cheekbone. 

Too soft. Too short. But Elliot lets the moment settle nonetheless before pulling back entirely. “Now,” they say, “are there pictures of Eddie in high school? I have to know if he rocked a mullet.”

Lawrence laughs, reaching over to flip through the pages, and let it be known that that photo book definitely doesn’t disappoint. 

[devil-doms]

Barbatos ♥︎ Sickly

There had been a sickness going around the Devildom, to the demons living there it was like the common cold, but for a human such as yourself? It had put you out of commission.

Diavolo had offered you a room in his castle, which you gladly accepted. You just needed somewhere more peaceful and as much as you love Lucifer and his brothers, the house was not it.

Diavolo showed you to a spare bedroom, “You can stay here until you feel better.” He smiles, “Everything has been washed, as of yesterday. I asked Barbatos to focus on you until you’re better, so please, don’t be afraid to ask him for anything. I hope you feel well soon MC.” Diavolo leaves the room.

You look around the guest room, the deep purple walls remind you of your own. You leave your bag on the desk and slip into the bed. The covers, from how much you can actually smell, smell nice and fresh. You slide down a bit more to get comfortable and it isn’t long until you fall asleep.

A while later you were woken up by knocking at your door.

“Come in…” You say yawning.

Barb walks in, “Hello there MC, sorry for waking you. I brought you some tea, I mixed in some herbs that should help you start feeling better quickly.”

He hands you a beautiful white teacup, rimmed with gold, “Thank you.” You take a sip and the flavors burst into your mouth.

“Of course. Please message me if you need me again.” He bows and leaves the room.

It’s only been a day, but you could get used to having your very own butler. You’ve only messaged him twice, but that’s because he’s checked in on you almost every other hour. It was nice.

Thanks to Barbs tea you were already feeling so much better, almost brand new. Today you decided to catch up on a book that you were borrowing from Satan.

You open it to the marked page but before you could start reading there was a knock on your door again, you get out of bed to answer it, “Hello MC! I see you’re feeling better, but you shouldn’t be moving too quickly.” He sets the tea tray on the desk and takes your hand, “Here, let me walk you back over to you bed.”

You knew you could make it back to the bed yourself, but at times like these, you let it happen “Yeah I feel a lot better now, I think it’s from your tea. Thank you again.”

You sit down and Barbatos fetches the tea, “That’s a good book you’re reading there. How’re you liking it so far?”

“It’s pretty good!”

He hands you your cup, “Shall I read it to you?”

“You don’t have to!”

He shakes his head, “No I insist, you need your rest.”

Before you could get another word out he begins reading. You sit and watch his eyes scan every sentence, his lips as every word slips out of it, never stuttering or slipping up and his fingers flipping every page, occasionally licking the top of one to turn the page without skipping a beat.

Every so often he’d look up from the book and smile at you, still reading it. He knew this book by heart.

After about roughly two hours he closes the book, “What perfect timing, I need to prepare dinner for you and the Master. I hope my reading was up to your standards.” He hands it back to you.

“It was great! Uh…I’m feeling a lot better, better than I usually do, could I help out with dinner?”

“If you’d like to.”

You nod and you both make your way to the kitchen. Barbatos gives you a mask and gloves to be extra cautious. You discuss the book while making dinner, even at dinner you continue chatting about other things.

Sadly since you were feeling much better, you were most likely going to leave tonight to get out of their hair. After dinner you head back to the guest room and start packing your stuff when you hear a knock at the door.

“Come in!”

Diavolo comes in and quietly shuts the door behind him, “I heard you were going to head out tonight?”

You nod, “I don’t wanna be a bother. Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Of course, we were happy to have you here these past few days, so happy in fact…I don’t think I’ve ever seen Barbatos smile- or heck talk that much since you’ve been here.”

You feel your cheeks glow warm, “Really…?”

“Yes. So if you’re planning on heading out tonight, make sure to thank him.”

“Of course, thank you, Lord Diavolo.”

You decide to stay this last night. You sit at the desk and start doodling until you hear a knock at the door once again.

“Hello, MC. Staying with us for one more night?”

“Yeah, I think it’ll be safer to head out in the morning.”

“I see. I know you’re no longer sick, but I brought you some more tea.” He approaches you and you take a glass.

“Thank you.”

He nods, “MC, if I may, can I confess to you?”

“Uh…Sure.”

He moves his hand under his chin, “I had checked in on you so often because I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I apologize.” He bows.

“No, no that’s okay. I don’t mind at all…actually…” Your eyes dart around the room.

“Honest? Thank you MC, sorry for bothering you, I shall see you in the morning, sleep well.” and just like that, he leaves.

It was a little harder to sleep that night.

Morning approaches quickly, you had breakfast with the two demons and you start to say your goodbyes for now.

Diavolo comes in for a hug, “Visit soon! We enjoyed having you here!” He let’s go, “Don’t be afraid to stay with us when you’re not sick! We won’t mind!”

Barb leans forward to wrap an arm around you and whisper in your ear, “And I wouldn’t mind hearing my name fall past your lips once more.” He leans away and smiles as if he didn’t say anything, “I hope to see you soon!”

You wave to the both of them, feeling super flustered and meet with Lucifer at the bottom of the steps. Now awaiting for when you can return.

[palettepainter]

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[absolutepokemontrash]

The Demon Bros Play DND!

Who’s ready for some Stupid Headcanons?

So, the Satanic Panic of the 1980s claimed that the tabletop RPG known as Dungeons and Dragons had the power to turn your children into satanists and devil worshippers. So of course, the brothers have totally played DND after hearing about all the human world nonsense.

Lucifer the Back-up Back-up DM

He’s too busy to play this game dammit, stop inviting him! What do you mean both Satan and Simeon can’t DM the one-shot? Ugh... fine.

Despite all his UUUUUUUUGGGGHHH, Lucifer is a damn good storyteller, prepare to be immersed as hell.

Also, sorry guys, he’s a rule whore. If something’s against the rules, YOU AREN’T DOING IT.

He’s also a complete sadist who will randomly get everyone to roll perception checks for NO REASON.

Lucifer has definitely stood up and slammed his hands on the table while giving a description for extra effect, Mammon screamed and nearly fell out of his seat which REALLY ruined the mood.

“Everyone, we’re rescheduling, I’m too busy.”

He’s been a player a few times, and he’s NOT good at it. All his characters end up being really generic and boring. He’s better at being the world and everything in it, not the dummy wandering around it.

Human/fighter lookin’ motherfucker

In conclusion, he’s a good DM, but he’s probably too busy to play.

Over-Powered Self Insert (Mammon)

This game is for nerds! He’s not playin’, Levi!

Fine, his character is great and amazin’ and is also him. MC! What do these numbers mean-

Mammon’s the type of player to make his character a self insert and not take it too seriously, then get really REALLY attached as the campaign progresses.

He’s the type not to make a backstory for his character either, so go wild DM MCs!

He also both purposefully and accidentally metagames a whole bunch. Like dude, YOU know this, YOUR CHARACTER DOES NOT.

Shit he forgot his dice, can he borrow some?

“Okay MC, that’s five points of piercing damage.” “I RUN OVER AND HEAL THEM! I’LL SAVE YA MC!”

Mammon goes out of his way to save MC’s character long before it would make sense in-character to do so.

“Well, as your first man it’s my duty to save your character! You’ll probably be a blubberin’ mess if I didn’t...”

He’s not the best role player, but he’s also not the worst at it either. He tends to break character when things get too serious and he doesn’t know what to do.

Notes who? He came in here with one sheet of printer paper and it’s for doodling only.

He and Asmodeus start the tavern brawls. No question about that.

Theft is very common, he’s stealing from everyone, including but not limited to: the party, the royal guards, the dead enemies, the giant fuck-you dragon that Satan dropped in there to deter Mammon from stealing...

“I’m gonna steal that crown from the dragon.” “Roll stealth.” “Nat 20 BITCHES.” “Fuck you.”

If his character dies, may the Demon King have mercy on his greedy little soul because he’s going to mope about it for a damn long time.

Over-Powered Self Insert Again (Leviathan)

His character totally isn’t a self insert, shut up! He just looks and acts like an idealized version of himself!

He’s the one with twenty pages of character info and backstory AND the amazing commissioned art.

Levi has about 40 sets of expensive blue dice that he claims gives him the best rolls but an average session with him usually leads to roughly 10 crit fails.

While his luck with dice isn’t that good, he’s the player who will get as much out of their turn as possible, AKA break out the calculators and notes we’re doing some math.

His turn goes on for at least ten minutes because of all the shit he’s doing. When you finally think it’s over he goes “I still have my movement!”

Takes notes like a madman, every bit of lore and character info is being written down, meaning it’s a headache for everyone involved if there’s a continuity error because Levi WILL point it out.

“So you all head to the east, the great Valley of-” “Hang on, valley? In the second session you said there was a mountainous area to the east.” “Levi, shut up.”

Levi is the self appointed “guys come on let’s get back on track!” player, and whoever’s DMing is grateful to have him.

Levi is kind of the opposite of Mammon in terms of character seriousness, at first he’s taking everything super seriously and then as the campaign goes on he slowly loosens up and has some fun.

Out of curiosity one day he searches up a magical girl DND class and he’s ALL OVER IT. PLEASE LET HIM BE A MAGICAL GIRL NEXT CAMPAIGN-

Damn good at roleplaying, he’s carrying the entire in-character discussion until everyone else gets into it.

The Done With Your Bullshit DM (Satan)

So, this is the game that’s supposedly summoning him all the time despite the fact that he hadn’t been up to the human world since the 50s... what the fuck is everyone on up there?

It was the 80s, probably a lot of drugs.

When Satan DMs, you can only break the rules if it enhances the story... or if it fucks with Lucifer’s really boring character.

He will fudge dice rolls every once and a while, he also gets very attached to the characters everyone has made so he doesn’t want to perma-kill any of them unless they roll a DND quadruple natural 1 sin or something.

As attached as he gets, he isn’t above completely raging, killing everyone’s characters, and ending the session if everyone’s being annoying.

Don’t worry, your characters will be safe and sound next session once everything calms down... just don’t mention how Satan burned your character sheet right in front of you. It’s your fault if you didn’t make a second copy of your character sheet!

He’s pretty decent when it comes to improv when a player stumbles into something he didn’t plan out, but that’s not going to stop him from getting a little annoyed.

Though, if you somehow manage to get to the big bad too soon... yeah sorry, he’s got a way more dramatic fight scene planned, your player’s getting conveniently blasted out of there.

As a player, Satan is pretty decent at the game overall, but he tends to be a little aggressive if there’s an overarching mystery to be solved.

He needs to understand what’s going on! He doesn’t care if it upends the plot or it’s too early to find out! He needs to know!

His character is actually distinct and different from himself, Satan thinks it’s more interesting that way. All the books he’s read have made him a pretty awesome role player!

Satan’s notebook both as a DM and a player is filled to the brim, no detail is too insignificant to be put on the page.

Satan doesn’t fear dungeon puzzles... dungeon puzzles fear Satan.

“Are you all stupid?! This puzzle is so easy a four year old could solve it!”

I ROLL TO SEDUCE- (Asmodeus)

At first he didn’t want to play, he doesn’t play these kinds of games, sweetie. He’s too pretty.

When he’s finally convinced he puts a decent amount of effort into his character, but leaves the backstory pretty open.

Asmo would probably be the bard... right? No. He’s the warlock with the magic sugar daddy patron, and the warlock patron is spoken to as such.

“Hey baby... how’ve you been? Have I been good~?” “...”

Huh! Who woulda thought that all the bedroom roleplaying would transfer so well to DND!

Simeon is the only DM that doesn’t immediately shut this down, so Asmo will be extra inclined to play if Mr. Nice Shoulders is DMing.

When he gets really into it he buys a bunch of sparkly and very pretty dice, they bring him good luck in every roll!

Asmo has a fictional harem, no question about it. It gets to the point where Satan, Lucifer, and Simeon stop describing NPCs as attractive.

He’s rolling to seduce either way, he’s turned many an antagonist into a lover. To be fair, Asmo’s horniness has gotten everyone out of a lot of jail cells... so they can’t complain.

His notes consist of really random comments about the plot and the other players. It’s also COATED with doodles.

‘Wow, this character is such an asshole, I hope Belphie kills them.’ ‘Shit.’ ‘MC looks so cute when they play their character!!!!!!!! :D’

Poor bab forgets the rules a lot... it’s just too much to remember, okay?! How was he supposed to know that he ran out of spell slots an hour ago?!

Please help him, MC...

*Dice Cronch* (Beel)

Homeboy has been given edible dice, no question. He has also eaten the non-edible dice...

Beel goes to Satan for help with making his character, and he ends up really loving the character! :D

Problem is, he’s not that good at roleplaying... D:

“Can my character eat that person?” “Beel, no- you know what? Let me check what you’d need to roll to do that.”

I’ll save you MC part 2 electric boogaloo, but when it comes to Beel, the entire party is getting protected, no matter how little it makes sense in-character.

While Beel does take notes, a lot of them don’t end up being very important for later events. For example, he’ll jot down stuff about the layout in one room, but it turns out he didn’t take notes for the room that was actually going to be used for a boss fight.

He’s always nice to the NPCs, shame Belphie doesn’t show them the same courtesy.

Murder Hobo (Belphie)

Chaotic evil.

“Belphie, your character’s alignment is neutral good, remember?” “Fuck that, this guy’s annoying me.”

If Belphie doesn’t like an NPC, it’s up to the rest of the party to stop him from derailing the campaign and killing them.

He has space themed dice because cow-man likes space and thought they were pretty.

Notes? NOTES? You think Belphegor, the Avatar of SLOTH, takes notes? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-

He’s drooling all over the notebook... ew. Someone wake him up and tell him it’s his turn.

He puts about 35% effort forth to make a halfway decent character, and approximately 4% effort to actually roleplay.

Belphie sleeps through important plot details so he’s almost always really confused. He’ll turn to MC and ask them to explain what he missed before not learning his lesson and going back to sleep.

Wake him up for the dungeon puzzles though, he and Satan love those.

“Okay, we can’t see what’s in the room because none of the conscious party members have dark vision?” “Nope, what do you do?” “...I shove Mammon inside and shut the door.” “WHAT?!”

Bonus! The Best DM (Simeon)

Our favourite angel has homebrewed this entire campaign and boy fricken howdy are these players going to enjoy it.

Simeon fudges the dice rolls to avoid anything too irreversibly bad happening, buuuuuuut he’s still a total asshole who does the random perception rolls to keep everyone on their toes.

Everyone gets a character arc god dammit, even if they don’t have a backstory, one will be provided!

He’s got a map, he’s got miniatures, he’s got dice and backup dice for the backup dice, he’s got DM notes for days!

Simeon could be a voice actor with the amount of character voices he can do, no one ever gets confused with who’s talking.

Did someone just uncover a massive bit of plot that was meant to be found out later? Good job! No harm done! Simeon’s DM improv is second to none, and the plot will adjust accordingly!

[dirtywresling102]

Heels Get The Most Recognition - Chris Jericho (18+)

Chris Jericho x Simon

Commission For: @thesimonkshow

Summary: Simon tries to get Jericho's attention so he can be placed in the Inner Circle. Lucky for Simon, Jericho has a soft spot for rookies.

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, Yaoi, Smut, Cussing, NSFW.

Word Count: 5,721 

Follow Me On My Main Blog!: @dirtywrestling

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Enjoy!

The chair screeched against the floor as I pulled it out from underneath the table. I placed the plate down a large pile of food stacked upon each other. Sitting down, I licked my lips as I looked over the mountain of food, not knowing what to eat first. Scooping a spoonful of potato salad I stopped as I heard a bunch of girls giggling down the table. 

Placing the spoon in my mouth, I slowly chewed as I watched the women giggle and laugh at whatever was on Britt’s phone. “God if he was my boyfriend I’d break up with him for posting these.” Penelope Ford laughed. 

Britt looked up from her phone, we both made eye contact. Swallowing my food, I looked away down at my plate. “Hey Simon, come here. Check this out.” 

“Oh, no I’m good.” I waved them off, not really caring who they were laughing about. I just wanted to try and finish this large lunch so I could burn it off later at the gym. Hearing the girls whisper and agree upon whatever they were talking about, they all scooted their chairs back making a loud screeching sound as they all made their way towards me. Great. I had few friends in this business. I did my work and left, nothing more, nothing less. I especially didn’t want to make friends with the females since they liked to make fun of people online. Like what they’re doing now. 

“Look what Jericho posted.” Britt brought up the Instagram post and showed me. “I can’t believe he thinks he’s still young.” Britt laughed. 

“Hmm.” I hummed, not agreeing or disagreeing with her. I scooped another spoonful of potato salad in my mouth, my eyes skimmed over the photo. Jericho held the camera with one hand and was flexing with a sweater over his body so the only thing we saw was his abs. His face smoldered with the pose. My eyes widened at the exposed photo, nearly spitting out my food, I swallowed. Coughing as it went down the wrong pipe.

The girls laughed at my reaction, thinking it was a negative response. It wasn’t. Jericho looked so good with those sweatpants hung so low. “Wait, let me see again.” I slightly coughed, hitting my chest as I tried to clear my throat. Britt showed me her phone again as my eyes skimmed over the sexy photo. ‘I wish the sweatpants was gone’ I said in my head. 

“Oh and get this one.” Britt swiped her finger to the next photo. My eyes widened at the sight. My wish was granted. I nearly snatched the phone from her hand to get a better look. Jericho’s free hand was slightly pushing down his pants, showing his v-line and nothing more even though fans and myself wanted to see a little more. He was shirtless, flexing his muscles and abs for the camera. I licked my lips at the sight. Jericho’s long blonde hair flowed over his shoulder. My cock stirred at the sexy poses he did for Instagram. 

This should be illegal for a man this fine to post something so erotic. “Why-” I cleared my throat. “Why did he post this?” I asked, looking up at Britt. 

She pulled back her phone, scrolling through it some more. “He posted it on Instagram for his fiftieth birthday.” 

Jericho aged like fine wine, he looked good for his age and I bet tasted even better. My cock strained against my jeans at the thought of getting a taste of Jericho. I quickly stood up, scaring the women around me from my quick action. “Sorry ladies. But uh.” My brain isn't thinking correctly. “I forgot there's something I need to do…” Walking out of the catering room, leaving the plate full of, I rushed to the nearest restroom. Going to the farthest stall, I pushed open the door and locked it. My cock has never been this hard before. Pulling my phone out I quickly went to Instagram and went to Jericho’s page. Scrolling down a few photos I stopped on his fiftieth birthday post. Tugging my pants down along with my boxers, I wrapped my fist around my cock. Examining the photos while I stroked my cock, I slowly slipped into a daydream.

“Such a good boy, taking my cock so well.” Jericho gave my ass a rough slap while his cock was buried deep. Whimpers left my lips as I was enjoying the pain and pleasure. A tight ring wrapped around my cock prevented me from coming. Jericho’s hand ran through my hair, giving it a rough tug, pulling my head back. 

“Ah!” Hissing from the slight pain Jericho caused.

“Hmm, I have so much more stored for you rookie.” Jericho whispered against my ear.

My climax was close, my eyes fluttered shut as I kept fisting my cock. A stifled moan escaped my lips but was quickly cut off hearing the bathroom door slam open. The loud commotion nearly made me drop my phone. Gripping my phone tightly in my hand so it wouldn’t shatter on the tile floor, my heart raced as I listened to the men that entered. 

“I can’t believe Sammy’s dumb ass did that.” Jericho growled, hands coming down on the porcelain sink, the sound echoing throughout the bathroom.

“Yeah, it was pretty stupid of him saying those jokes.” Jake responded.

I swallowed thickly knowing exactly what they were talking about. A few years ago Sammy made a joke about raping WWE wrestler Sasha Banks. Unfortunately for Sammy, that video came back to the surface and of course AEW gave him a punishment on a suspension with no pay for a few months.

“We need a fifth member.” Jericho huffed.

“Really? Sammy is only gone for a few months, I think we’ll be okay without him.” Santana spoke. “I think us four will be fine without him.” 

Jericho slammed his fist down onto the sink, making it creak loudly. I flinched in the stall, nearly slipping. My cock still in my hand, too scared to even move. I didn’t dare make a sound.

“We’re going to look weak with one member missing, is that what you want Santana?” Jericho snarled. “We need someone strong, fast-” 

“And good looking.” Ortiz butted in. The three other men stared at him. “I mean, Sammy was the god looking one, we need someone young and fierce. Just saying.” Ortiz shied away. 

“No, no you’re right. We need a young strong kid to join us.” Jericho agreed. “But who the hell will join us four?” Jericho wasn’t going to say that they were old, he was the oldest out of the group but what damn kid would hang out with them and show off their strength and run AEW Wednesday nights? “We’ll worry about it later, let's go, we have a show to put on.” Jericho huffed and exited out first.

Hearing their feet patter out of the bathroom one by one and the door shut I exhaled slowly. Staying still just in case one of the members was still in here. I quickly started to pull my pants up, shoving my phone in my back pocket. I made my way out of the stall and to the sink. Catching how the sink was slightly crooked from Jericho’s fist colliding with it. 

I quickly washed my hands, looking at myself in the mirror. I knew I had what it takes to be a part of The Inner Circle. Drying off my hands, I threw the towel away in the bin and exited out of the rest room. How in the hell was I supposed to show Jericho and the boys that I was worthy enough to join?

Looking down the hall I saw a group of women. I could show them how much of a ‘ladies man’ I am. I shook my head, I couldn’t see myself messing with women’s emotions if I didn't find them attractive. Plus most of the women backstage I was good friends with. Trying to get into The Inner Circle will also show the men around how manly and tough I was. They wouldn’t dare attack or insult me if I was walking around with The Inner Circle. 

Looking down at the other side of the hallway I saw Joey Janela about to start an interview with Dasha Gonzalez. I smirked, this would be a perfect way to show Jericho and the boys how bad I was. 

“Good evening All Elite Wrestling Fans, I’m here with The Bad Boy Joey Janela who is about to face Jungle Boy later tonight. How are you feeling about this match, Joey?” She pulled the mic away from her lips and held it to Joey. 

“Well, I-”

“Well look who it is.” I stepped into the camera view. Joey and Dasha exchange confused looks to each other. “Fat Boy Jelly Nutella” I laughed, quickly noticing how Joey’s plush face became red with anger. 

“We’re in the middle of an interview here, Simon.” Joey hissed.

“Yeah? Well I caught you in the middle of a donut not so long ago.” I laughed. “How about you take a seat before you lose your breath, alright?” I turned to Dasha. “Dasha, baby.” I gave her a bright smile. “Why are you interviewing losers? When you can have a handsome stud like myself that you could be interviewing?” I gave her a wink. Showing that I can be a bully and yet a cocky gentleman towards the ladies. “I know how young you like them.” I teased, licking my lips. 

“Hey man.” Joey gave me a hard shove from behind. “How about you take your corny comments and leave.” He snarled. 

I straightened up, tilting my head to the side, popping my neck. I turned around to face Joey. “You’re gonna regret that.” I sneered, showing teeth. I raised my fist, clocking him in the jaw. Joey stumbled backwards into some stage crates. I followed after him, striking repeatedly, one blow after another. 

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Simon that’s enough!” Refs and other wrestlers rushed over, pulling me off of Joey. “That’s enough, Simon!” Someone else shouted. 

“Have fun wrestling tonight, Jelly Nutella.” I laughed, letting the people push me away so they could check on Joey. My gaze went across the hall to see Jericho and The Inner Circle. Good they saw everything. It’s just a matter of seconds that they’ll walk over to talk to me about joining the team. 

A small frown appeared on my lips as I watched the four of them walk away in the opposite direction. Huffing out a sigh, I ran my fingers through my sweaty hair. “Simon, what the fuck was that all about?” Joey asked, rubbing his jaw.

“Sorry.” I mumbled. “I’m trying to get tight with The Inner Circle.” 

“Well, next time tell me the plan before punching me.” Joey moved his jaw around. 

The night went on, I waited for Jericho or anyone in the Inner Circle to approach me. No one did. Huffing I knew I wouldn’t stop getting their attention.

A week went by and it was Wednesday All Elite Wrestling once more. I knew I needed to do something crazier than beating up Joey Janela during an interview. I needed to pick the baddest, meanest wrestler on AEW and beat them down, that’ll show Jericho and the boys how strong I really am. 

“Kenny, you know damn well I deserve a shot at that title. That’s my title, you and everybody else knows it.” Moxley snarled into the mic. Standing in the middle of the ring, the crowd cheered as Moxley was getting heated up about Kenny being the asshole champion he was. “So what do you say, Omega? Are you going to come out here and face me like a man or do I have to go back there and hunt you down?” 

Moxley and the crowd waited. I swallowed thickly, knowing this was probably going to get me killed but anything to get Jericho to notice me. My theme song hit, I walked out and onto the ramp. Seeing Moxley’s confusion slowly turn to anger. “Woah, woah, woah. Moxley, you really think you deserve a title shot?” I smirked, my heart was hammering in my chest. Jon Moxley was going to kill me for interrupting his television time. 

“Jon, how about we have a little match? I win. I get to have a title shot with Kenny and a date with your hot wife.” I teased, winking into the camera. “Hi Renee.” I waved. I saw Jon walking towards the ropes, about to hope out and beat me. “Woah, wait big fella. I’ll be in the ring soon. If you win you get to have Kenny for the title, deal?”

I saw Jon’s lip twitch into a devilish smirk. “Deal.” 

I limped out of the trainers room, ice pack in hand. Jon Moxley didn’t take lightly that I joked about his wife or took his spotlight time. Moxley didn’t go easy on me in the ring. Purposely giving me a black eye, bruised ribs and I swore he tore a muscle in my shoulder. Losing to Moxley wasn’t going to have the Inner Circle be interested in me now. 

It was a quick match, lasting no longer than ten minutes. Note to self, don’t piss off Jon Moxley before a match. I grunted as I rested against a crate, sitting on top of the surface I grunted out lowly as my body ached. Resting the ice back over my shoulder I groaned as it stung. “I’ll never get to be in the circle.” I grumbled to myself in defeat. 

Ignoring everyone I didn’t even notice some crew members were starting to set up lights and cameras near me. Looking up, I winced as my neck ached. “What are you guys doing? I want to be alone.” I huffed, annoyed that they were carrying wires and turning on bright lights facing me. I squinted with a low growl as it blinded me. 

“We’re doing a segment right now.” One coworker said, headset wrapped around his neck.

“Can’t you do it somewhere else?” I wasn’t planning on moving.

“Well, we need you Simon for the segment we’re only setting up where you’re staying. Would you like us to follow you to a better place?” The man tilted his head.

I blinked. “Segment? I don’t have a segment.” 

“Oh, Mr. Jericho told us to grab the lights and cameras for your segment with him. He told us to tell you ‘just sit there and look pretty’.” He repeated Jericho’s words. 

I blinked once more, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Was I finally joining The Inner Circle? “And we’re live in three… two…” the camera man held up one digit signaling that we’re on the air. 

I swallowed hard, quickly looking away from the camera and down at the floor. “There he is! There’s the strong man that fought Jon Moxley!” Jericho yelled, him and the rest of the crew approaching me. “Or should I say a moron man.” Jericho laughed.

I gulped, my smile slowly turning into a frown. My heart raced, my eyes darted towards the director and back at Jericho. “Well, someone had to show Moxley some sort of punishment.” I cockily said, but of course not accepting that I lost. 

“Ha! See, I told you this kid has it. Even getting his ass kicked he still thinks he’s number one! Kid has spunk!” Jericho complemented. 

I tried to control my reddening cheeks. Never have I gotten a compliment from the goat himself, Chris Jericho. “Well someone has to be number one around here.” I smirked. 

“I like you kid, how about you team up with us, The Inner Circle. What do you say, wanna hang out with the coolest, baddest dudes in AEW?” Jericho asked. His blue eyes looked deep into my eyes. 

“Chris, I would love nothing more than to join you.” 

“You made the right choice kid, I knew I liked you for a reason!” His large hand came down onto my back. I muffled out a small grunt as pain shot up my spine. “Hagar! Give the kid his shirt.” 

Jake pulled an Inner Circle shirt from his pocket and tossed it to me. “You’re one of us kid, better start getting used to being top dog.” With that Jericho and the gang walked away. I couldn’t help but to smile large, looking down at the fabric in my hands. The camera slowly looked away from me and to my Inner Circle shirt. 

“Cut.” The coworker said. “Great job Simon, congrats on being a part of the team.” 

I couldn’t speak, too excited from what just happened. I smiled big and nodded towards him. 

Weeks go by, I couldn’t imagine anything better. Finally being one of the boys in The Inner Circle, I walked tall when I was with the rest of the guys. We’d make a mess backstage, antagonize people and make fun of them during a match. But I knew I was changing while I was with the group. I saw myself become something I wasn’t. A bully. These people here at AEW were my friends, my family. Some wrestlers even went the extra mile to get me a match some Wednesday nights and here I was, treating them like dirt. 

Once the night came to an end, we all made our way back to the hotel. “Hey, we’re going to drink, do you want to come?” Jake asked, mentioning himself, Ortiz and Santana. 

Shaking my head, I politely decline. “No, I’m going to my room and sleep, tonight was pretty long.” 

Jake shrugged and walked to the hotel bar. I held the strap to my bag tightly seeing Jericho walking to the elevator. “Hey, Chris. Wait up!” I rushed to the elevator. Jericho quickly placed his hand between the sliding doors, forcing them open.

“Well, isn’t it my favorite troublemaker in the group?” Jericho teased, a smirk on his lips. 

A light blush appeared on my cheeks as I entered the lift. “Thanks, speaking of the group, I need to talk to you about it.” I gulped.

“Oh yeah? What’s up?” Chris arched his eyebrow, his blue orbs looking into mine. 

“I uh, well.” Having trouble speaking, I stopped when there was a ding, notifying us that we were on our floor. 

Jericho couldn’t help but to laugh at me tripping over my words. “Come on kid, I’ll take you to my room. We’ll talk it out.” Jericho grabbed his luggage and walked out of the lift. Exhaling a breath, I followed suit, knowing this wasn’t going to be easy. 

“So, what do you want to talk about?” Jericho asked.

My eyes were everywhere in the room. It was the suite room, large bed, balcony to look over the city and the bathroom was twice the size of mine a few floors down. Jericho went to the mini bar designed for his room. A flatscreen television pinned to the wall and besides the dresser was a mini fridge I could only imagine was full of snacks and alcohol. 

Jericho walked back towards me, handing me a cup of alcohol. “Oh no.” I waved my hand, not going to accept it.

“Come on kid, you’re of age aren’t you?”

I nodded my head yes.

“Then drink.” Jericho smiled, pushing the glass more into my grip. Taking the clear crystal glass I examined the brown liquid. It smelled strong, burning my nose but made my mouth water. “Come, sit.” Jericho sat at the foot of his bed. 

Following, I sat down next to him. Bringing the cup to my lips, I took a small sip of the liquor. Coughing slightly as the bitterness went down my throat. Jericho laughed at my reaction. “This’ll put hair on your balls.” He joked, placing the rim of the glass to his lips. He downed the whole drink in one gulp. 

I exhaled. “I wanted to talk about being in The Inner Circle.” 

“Yes! You were the best choice I’ve made, you have a potential kid, really caught my eye.” I could have sworn I saw his eyes sparkle as he spoke. 

“Uh, thanks Chris.” I swallowed, really wanting to get out what I wanted to say. “But I don’t think-”

“You know, don’t tell anyone but I have a soft spot for rookies.” Chris hummed. 

“You- You do?” I questioned.

“Hmm- hmm.” He nodded. You really caught my eye when I saw you try out, I knew I had to have you.” Chris paused for a brief moment, making my heart skip a beat as he darted his tongue out, licking his lips ever so slightly. “In the Inner Circle of course.”

I cleared my throat. “Oh, of course.” I quickly agreed. Was he flirting with me and quickly covering it up?

 “Why do you think I let Sammy join right when he joined AEW, he was a sweet kid trying to find his place in the business and I took him under my wing just like how I’m doing with you.”

“Well, thank you for that.” I chewed the inside of my cheek. “How can I ever repay you?” I asked, I knew I needed to give the vet something in return for the kind actions he’s had towards me.

Chris’ blue eyes became darker as he looked at me over. “I can think of a few things.” 

“And what’s the number one thing?” I leaned closer to him, licking my lips. 

“I think I’d like to have those nice plump lips of yours wrapped around my cock.” 

My lips twisted into a smirk. “I think I can do that.” Standing up, I got in between Jericho’s legs and kneel down. I rub his already growing cock through his pants. Pre come already staining his jeans. My mouth watered at the sight, undoing the button. I quickly tugged his pants down as if he was a meal and I haven’t eaten in days.

“Easy, I’m not going anywhere.” Chris laughed, seeing how eager I was to have him in my mouth.

Blushing, I slowed down my pace. Tugging the zipper down and helping him out of his pants along with his boxers. His cock was what I imagined, large, long and ready to pound. I looked up at him as he watched in. He reached at me, running his fingers through my hair. My eyes fluttered shut at the soft touches. I grunted as he gave my locks a tough tug, making my cock twitch at the roughness. 

“No teasing, make me come and I’ll reward you with my cock and much more.” Chris let go of my hair, making me nod. 

I looked over his cock once more, admiring it. He was clean shaved. I wrapped my hand around his member, watching Chris suck in a breath only to exhale slowly as I moved my hand up and down on him. “Hmm, that’s it.” Chris tilted his head back, eyes shut. Leaning down, I gave soft kitten licks to his smooth balls. Swirling my tongue slowly and gently. 

“Fuck, keep going.” Jericho moaned, his hips jerking slightly. My free hand rubbing the inside of Chris’ thigh. Once I paid enough attention to his balls, I stopped jerking his cock. Jericho snapped his head up, watching my every move. 

Grabbing the base of his cock, I slowly inserted the tip of his cock into my mouth, softly suckling it. “Oh god, Simon.” Jericho grunted through his teeth, pushing his hips upwards. 

I smirked, using both my hands to pin his hips down on the bed. “Oh you little shit, you think you can control me.” Jericho growled. Chris gripped my hair, pulling me off of his cock. My lips swollen and red from sucking. 

“Should’ve let me fucked that sweet mouth of yours, now I have to teach you a lesson.” Jericho stood up as I stayed on my knees. “Little rookie thinks he can control me.” Swallowing hard as I heard Jericho mumbled to himself. He went to his duffle bag, I heard him unzip it only to zip it back up. 

A soft yelp escaped my lips as Chris unexpectedly gripped both of my wrists, putting my hands behind my back. Cool metal clasped over both of my wrists, restraining me. I tugged, trying to get out only to realize he placed hand cuffs on me. “W- Wait, I’m sorry. I only wanted to touch you.”

“Oh you little liar. You were trying to take control so I couldn’t fuck that pretty mouth of yours.” Chris growled, being in front of me once more. His hard cock in my face. 

“I’m sorry.” I said once more, wanting to be forgiven. 

Jericho gripped my hair once more. “Open.” 

Biting the inside of my cheek I soon opened my mouth. Nearly gagging as Chris shoved his cock down my throat. Saliva soon collected in my mouth as I grunted. I latched my jaw tight, wrapping my lips around his cock as he thrust faster. “Good boy.” 

My wrists slowly started to hurt as the metal cut deeper into my skin. Drool started to drip out the corner of my mouth, my eyes started to water as I could hardly breathe. Chris tightened his grip on my hair as his thrust became longer and harder. His cock thickened in my mouth, I knew he was about to come soon.

His hand rested on the back of my head, forcing his cock deeper down my throat, I tried to pull away and catch a breath of air. “Ah, ah.” Chris grunted, his cock not moving. He pumped his hips a few times, his come flooding down my throat as my face became red. I jerked at the cuffs, trying to break them so I could push Chris off. 

“Hmm, now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He slowly started to pull his cock out. Come and drool collected at my lips as his cock exited out of my mouth. I gasped for air. “Ah.” Chris, clamped my mouth shut. “Swallow it.” 

I didn’t even realize I had so much come in the back of my throat until I swallowed it all, making me finally breathe. He gave me a lazy smirk, watching me become teary eyed. “I’m not finished with you just yet.” Jericho gripped my arm and stood me up. He shoved me to the foot of the bed, bending me over. 

Jericho’s large hand roughly slapped my ass, once, twice and a third time. I whimpered as my skin stung from the pain, slowly turning red. “Can’t wait to be deep inside of you, rookie.” I heard a bottle open and liquid pouring out. Soft sloshing sounds were made from behind me, Jericho stroking his cock with his lubed up hand. 

“You did so well taking my cock in that pretty little mouth, now let's see how you take my thick cock up your ass.” I could hear Jericho smirk in his words. I tugged at the restrains, trying to get loose but they were too tight. I moved my head to the side, breathing as my face was pushed up against the soft covers of the bed. 

My heart beat quickly against my chest as I felt Chris’ smooth hand rub against my back. “Relax.” He purred. Chris’ kept stroking his cock, his hand on my back went to my ass to spread my cheeks. His tip pushed against my entrance making me bite my bottom lip. 

“Shit, you’re squeezing my cock so perfectly.” Chris moaned as he slowly pushed his dick inch by inch. 

Tears threaten to spill from the corner of my eyes as Chris’ cock stretches me wider than I’ve ever been stretched. “Shh, there we go. Good boy, you’re doing so well. Almost there.” Once fully in, Chris paused for a moment so I could adjust to his size. “Fuck you look so good stuffed full of my fucking cock.” Chris landed another rough smack to my ass which made me yelp loudly. “Fuck, so sexy.” He moaned. 

Exhaling softly, I rolled my hips against his, wanting more. “Oh, someone is being greedy.” 

“Please, your cock feels so good in me.” I whined, being full with Chris’ cock in my ass and my dick rubbing up against the soft fabric of the covers was nearly making me want to come. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Chris snickered, gripping the chain in between the cuffs that were digging into my skin, I hissed loudly as he pulled my arms back. He pulled his cock out and thrust back into me, he started to do it repeatedly. His pace started to pick up, sloppy wet sounds and skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the hotel room.

“Fuck!” I roared out, arching my back and meeting up with Chris’ thrust. I pushed my ass back, matching with his pace, his cock drilling deeper into me.

“Oh little rookie likes it when I pound his ass?” Chris smirked. I couldn’t help but to moan. A few harsh strikes landed on my ass. “I asked you a question, use your words.” He growled.

“Yes! Yes I fucking love when your cock is so deep in me.” I desperately said. My cock throbbed for attention, my balls full of come. “Please, touch me, please let me come.” I panted. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead as I worked on Chris’ cock. 

“You want me to touch your hard aching cock?” Jericho’s voice was nearly mocking.

I wanted to cry as Jericho was teasing me with his words. “Yes, yes please!” 

Surprising that was all it took, Jericho reached his arm around my waist and gripped my cock with his soft hand. Tugging my cock synced to his hips pushing into me. “Oh fuck yes, thank you.” I moaned, jerking my hips into his touch.

 “Are you ready for me to fill you up?” Jericho moaned into my ear. 

Nodding my head, “Please, I need it.” I moaned. 

“Then you shall have it.” He hissed as I squeezed tighter around his cock.

Jericho’s thrust started to pick up along with his hand on my cock, not missing a beat. My body vibrated with his magical touch. My eyes fluttered shut as my mouth slightly dropped open. “Oh fuck, please I’m going to come.” 

Jericho squeezed the base of my cock, teasing me away from my orgasm. “You’re mine isn’t that right, rookie?” 

Gulping, I didn’t say anything, only nodded. That wasn’t good enough for him. “Say you belong to me or else I won’t let you come.” He threatened, the hand that gripped the chain in between the cuffs slapped my other ass cheek.

“I’m yours! I’ll always belong to you!” I cried out, nearly screaming.

“And don’t you fucking forget it.” He grunted. “You may come.” He kept jerking my cock. Arching my back, moaning loudly. Buckling my hips into his touch I bit my lip. My cock twitched in his touch. 

“Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming.” I moaned. My hot come spurted out of my cock, hitting the clean hotel covers and Jericho’s hand. Jericho let go of my lip cock, gripping my waist as he started to pound faster into me. Jericho pumped his cock a few more times in me, his come soon exploding inside of me. “Fuck, yes take my come.” Jericho moaned. 

I balled my hands into fist, becoming limp on the bed. Breathing heavily as I laid there. “Fuck, Simon.” Chris sighed out, pulling his dick out of my ass slowly. He watched as his seeds spilled out of my fucked hole. “Hmm.” Jericho admired the sight for a few seconds. Hearing him walk away and come back I heard a click and another click. The cuffs falling off of my wrists, I instantly brought them up to my chest and rubbed them. 

“You took my cock so well.” Jericho laid down on the bed, pulling me close to him.

“Thank you.” I blushed, hiding my face in his neck. We both laid there, naked and slowly fell asleep.

A few hours later I woke up. Getting out of bed, I walked towards the sliding mirror, glad that we were a few stories up so no one could see me looking over the city, naked. The sun barely hits the horizon, the sky still dark, stars sparkling and the city still lit up with lights. 

“You’re up early.” Jericho hummed, wrapping his arms around my waist.

I jumped slightly, startled by his touch. “I couldn’t sleep.”

I felt Chris’ frown press against my lips. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

“I… I actually came to you last night to talk to you about the Inner Circle. I didn’t plan on getting fucked.”

“Oh, I planned on fucking you.” Jericho chuckled.

“I’m being serious.” I laughed.

“I am too. What is it that you wanted to talk about?”

“I don’t think I belong in the group. I’m becoming a bully to my old friends and that’s just not me.”

“So you want out?” He asked, his chin resting on top of my head.

I didn’t say anything, I watched the traffic down below us. I also felt Jericho’s bare cock against my ass.

“Listen, you’re a sweet kid. The only illegal thing you’ve done was jerk it in a public bathroom.” 

“You heard me?” I squeaked.

“Heard you moaning right when I entered. You’re lucky I entered first. I also recognized your shoes.” Chris nuzzled against me. “But I agree, you’re not a bully type, but that doesn't mean I want you out of the group. Sammy is coming back and he’s more of the snobby kid of the group. How about you can be the sweetheart of the group? We can do backstage segments where you try to show me and The Circle how to be kind. I think people would find that hilarious and see us fail at being kind and nice to people.” 

I chuckled at the thought. “I suppose that can work.”

“Sounds good to me, now let's get back to bed.” Jericho kissed my neck, nibbling slightly.

[archonanqi]

consequence / pt ii

⛔️ Warning: Please read the tags and warnings on the info page and proceed with caution.

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pt. ii of iii

The sky was still dark when you woke with a splitting headache. You blinked the sleep from your eyelids, eyes adjusting to the shadowy silhouettes of furniture around you. This was— one of Wangshu Inn’s rooms? You checked yourself for wounds and fractures; there was a scrape on your knee, but it had been properly dressed and bandaged.

Zhongli.

You had to get Aether and get out. You would have taken any punishment from Zhongli for breaking the contract but Aether— it was clear that Zhongli knew he could get to you through him. Your brother was in danger, too.

Stumbling to the door, you threw it open to meet the stunning Liyue night view. At the altitude of Wangshu Inn, the air was always cold and crisp, and you took a deep breath as you stepped out of the room to come face to face with a pair of familiar, bright yellow eyes. 

“Xiao?” The relief you felt was immense. No matter the danger, you’d always been able to depend on the Vigilant Yaksha to back you up in battle. “I’m so glad to see you. You won’t believe this—“

Once you took a better look at Xiao’s face, you trailed off. There was no surprise in his gaze. You had not found him by a stroke of luck; he was here to stop you from leaving.

“I know of your contract with Rex Lapis.” How long had it been since he had last spoken to you in that tone of disdain? “I have helped him uphold countless in the past few millennia. Even you are no exception.” 

“Xiao, I didn’t even know what the contract meant,” you pleaded, hope soaring at the flicker in his eyes. “Please, let me leave.”

The Yaksha swallowed visibly, brows knitting together. “No,” he finally said. “Go back to your room. I don’t want to have to fight you while you’re in... this state.”

“You’d fight me here?” You said, for the second time that night. “The civilians—” As you turned to gesture at the staff of Wangshu Inn, you realized that despite the commotion, not one of them was looking in your direction.

“The staff of Wangshu Inn are prepared, as am I,” Xiao said, without so much as glancing in their direction, “to carry out the will of our lord.”

Ah. You were alone here. But still, you stood firm, and watched the resignation dawn in Xiao’s eyes. You had not backed down when Chef Mao told you they were out of Almond Tofu, during your dinner with Xiao three months ago. You had not backed down when three Abyss Mages had you cornered in Lingju Pass; and even as Xiao had slaughtered them, you’d tried to get one last swing in with a tree branch. You would not back down now, and Xiao knew it as well as you did.

“I wish it didn’t come to this,” Xiao said, and you believed him wholly. 

He clasped his hand to his face, and when it came away, he was wearing his mask. You supposed that you should feel a little flattered that he thought he had to don his Yaksha mask to fight you, hungover as you were. But before that, you felt worry. You knew full well what the mask did to him, had seen your fair share of aftermaths after a battle had dragged too long. 

“Xiao, don’t hurt yourself,” you whispered.

In his eyes, behind the teal glow of his veil, you saw just a flicker of hesitation. But not enough.

Just as you shifted into a defensive stance — the way Xiao had taught you to do during your sparring sessions — there was a movement behind you. The Yaksha looked up over your shoulder, and immediately bowed his head, his mask fading away as quickly as it had come. You turned, even though you already knew what you’d see: Zhongli, pristine and immaculate as ever, his coat carried gently in the wind. 

Disappointment in Zhongli’s gaze had always been hard to stomach, but today, it felt like the weight of the world on your lungs. “So she did try to escape, then, before even granting me an audience?” The former Archon asked, every word chilling you to your core. “Thank you for your service, Xiao. You may go now.” 

Xiao lifted his head, turning to go wordlessly. Before he disappeared down the stairs, he paused. “What are you going to do to her?”

Zhongli regarded him with a lidded glance. “Only what must be done.”

—  

After Xiao’s leave, Zhongli turned to you. 

“Do you understand now?” He asked, flicking his hand back in the same slow gesture as he always did when he was telling a long story. You remembered how much you adored listening to the tales of the Archon War. Stories of those he conquered, brought to life through his deep, rich voice. You never thought you’d be among them, one day. “Six thousand years is a long time, even for those who live forever. I know every crack, cave and crevice, every clan, bloodline and family in Liyue. There is no place for you to run.”

You knew what he left unspoken. You had been a part of Liyue for what, one, two years? He had raised it from the earth. Despite all his talk of friendship, you would find no allies here who would, when faced with the choice, defy their archaic lord for you. 

Xiao’s betrayal still stung, but in light of the weight of Zhongli’s presence before you, it was all but inconsequential, and wholly unsurprising. The slight shiver that ran down your spine, this time, was not because of the cold night air. 

“What did you do to Aether?” is the first thing you managed to say.

“Your brother is safe.” Zhongli assured you. “I’ve had him sent to Bubu Pharmacy for treatment, and Paimon is looking after him.” 

The relief you felt was uneasy. Safe— for now, at least. 

“Where is he?”

“A location that I have secured, personally. You may see him when we are done here.” Zhongli answered seamlessly. You did not miss the threat that was left unspoken. “Though, he is not the one you ought to be worrying about, right now.”

An amicable departure from Teyvat was but a dream at this point; but maybe if you swallowed your anger, you could get him to leave you alone. Of all the farewells you had imagined, this wasn’t one you hadn’t even imagined would come to pass.

“That was it, right?” You joked weakly, even the pretense of cordiality almost too difficult to maintain, “the Wrath of the Rock? I mean, you literally knocked me out.” 

Zhongli studied you carefully, before opening his mouth. “What do you think?” He asked. “ Was that a punishment fitting enough for one who reneged against the God of Contracts?”

“I— I,” You stammered for a little, but stopped once you realized it was futile. Zhongli would exact what punishment he deemed you deserved, and no force in Teyvat could possibly hope to stop him. Defeated, you exhaled deeply. “Would it help my case if I said ‘yes’?”

“No,” Zhongli answered, without hesitation. “Not in the slightest.” There was nothing left of the Zhongli you knew — thought you’d known — in his stone-cold expression.

A festering fear had settled deep within your stomach, rancid and heavy.  How arrogant you had been, to think that you could thoroughly understand a being that had lived longer than recorded history, longer than human civilization in some worlds — could you even grasp the very notion of living six thousand years, of spending four thousand fighting a war? The countless bygone friends and foes he must have had to cut down? 

How foolish of you to think that you could have outweighed any of them. 

“What will it take to keep Aether safe?” You said, dropping your smile. If Zhongli would not budge when faced with the lingering remnants of your friendship, then you would speak to him the only way you knew how to get through to him; with a contract. “I’ll willingly accept any punishment, without a fight, as long as you promise to let him and Paimon go safely afterwards.”

Would Zhongli really… kill you? Even knowing all that you knew of his brutality during the war, it was hard to wrap your head around. You couldn’t breathe.

“Any…?” Zhongli’s huff created a small cloud of condensation in the night air. “It seems I have not taught you enough about the art of negotiation during our journey together. An open contract is a very dangerous thing to place in the hands of your adversaries.“ 

“I don’t care,” you snapped. Any other time, and you would have loved to hear him lecture, but...“Just tell me you won’t hurt them.” 

Zhongli closed his eyes once more, as he always did when presented with a contractual proposal to ponder. Finally, when he had been still so long you’d thought he might have fallen asleep, he crossed his arms. “Very well. I accept the terms of your contract.” 

At least, no matter what happened to you, Aether and Paimon would be safe. 

“Come, y/n,” Zhongli beckoned with two gloved fingers, “let us continue somewhere more private.” He turned around and began walking, as though he had not a doubt that you would follow him. Well, with the terms that he had over your head, did you really have a choice? 

You had been to Wangshu Inn so many times — to complete commissions, to grab a quick lunch, to bring Almond Tofu for Xiao — that you knew the land around it like the back of your hand. It would be so easy to escape on your own; you’d make it to Mondstadt within the night. Determined as Zhongli was, the idea of a diplomatic fallout with Liyue’s neighboring nation would at least make him take pause in his pursuit of you. Right?

Freedom was within your grasp. Behind you, the crickets chirped their hymns into a star-flecked sky. 

You owe me big time, dear brother , you thought bitterly to yourself as you followed Zhongli back into his room.

[archived-kin]

local cashless god nearly loses you your job (but you’re okay with it)

note from kin: *throws this at you* please take it i’ ve been stuck on the blasted thing for hours (peepaw i promise i’ll write you something where you’re better characterised another day)

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn!reader, zhongli, xingqiu

pairing(s): zhongli/reader

warning(s): none! (though i do want to give a heads up for some out of character stuff since i started this when i still wasn’t too familiar with the liyue characters)

genre: fluff

“How many copies of Encyclopaedia of Liyue does one man need?”

You shush Xingqiu as the man just across the shop continues to browse at his leisure, golden eyes furrowed in concentration as he trails his gloved fingers across the books’ spines. “Maybe he’s here to buy something else this time! You never know.”

“He’s bought the exact same book seven times in a row now,” Your little brother insists, pulling his nose out of his novel for once to regard the tall figure drifting listlessly from one end of the shop to the other. “I doubt he’s going to break the cycle now.”

“He could be a collector,” You suggest, dropping your voice slightly when the man’s eyes flicker over to you briefly. “This shop’s older than us - maybe it has a bunch of different editions that he wants to get.”

“Well, wouldn’t it make sense for him to find all the different editions and then buy them all at once?” Xingqiu whispers in reply, tapping restlessly at the countertop with one hand. “Then he wouldn’t have to stop by every day and charm you into paying for him.”

You don’t have a reasonable argument for that, so you don’t reply. Xingqiu really is too smart for his own good sometimes.

The man - who you can see is now flicking curiously through a copy of The Founder of Diabolism - isn’t someone you know particularly well, but he’s visited the bookshop where you work enough times that you do know the essential facts: his name is Zhongli, he likes drinking tea, and he’s broke. In every sense of the word.

That last point is quite the source of exasperation on your part. No matter how many times you remind him as he leaves, he never fails to turn up with a completely empty Mora pouch the next time you see him. At first it hadn’t been so much of a problem - he’d just come in, browse the books, start a little small talk with you, then leave. But then he’d actually started wanting to buy the books, and buying usually involves money - something that Zhongli seems to forget exists.

If it had been any other ridiculously handsome guy, you might have sent them packing, but there’s something about the lost look on Zhongli’s face when you ask him for his payment and he realises that he has no way of giving you one that never fails to make you get out your own Mora pouch and suggest that you foot the bill for him instead. Zhongli always tries to refuse your offer, but, in kind, you always insist. You have no idea why he has such an affinity for that particular book, but the way he smiles at you as you as you drop your own coins into the payment pouch is more than enough to make up for the money you lose. It’s not like you actually need the funds, anyway, considering who your father is.

Today, however, Zhongli has neglected the shelf of encyclopaedias in favour of drifting over to the Xianxia section. You’re not sure what’s spurred this change in interest, but maybe it’s the little toy dragon you’ve set on top of the shelf? Zhongli seems rather enamoured by it - he keeps glancing up at it while he reads.

Speaking of the book that he’s skimmming through, it’s a rather odd choice on his behalf. You haven’t gotten the opportunity to read it yourself, busy as you usually are between your work shifts, adventurer’s guild commissions, and making sure your little brother doesn’t get himself into trouble by wandering directly into a gang of hilichurls in the middle of reading a book again. You’re pretty sure Xingqiu has read it at some point, though - to be honest, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already read every book in this shop several times over. (Part of you wonders if the only reason he’s so supportive of you venturing into the world and taking this job is because he gets to sit with you and read all the books he likes during your shifts.)

You don’t remember all the details he’d spewed off to you over the week or so he spent reading it, but you vaguely remember him crying into your sleeve about something to do with trees and lanterns and hugs. You’re also pretty sure that it got kind of… what’s the word? Risqué? Adult? Well, whatever word you use to describe it, it doesn’t really seem like the sort of thing that someone like Zhongli would read. Then again, you wouldn’t have ever expected your innocent gentleman of a little brother to read something like that, either.

“At least he seems to have good taste in fiction,” Xingqiu sighs as Zhongli continues to skim over the first few pages, looking rather intrigued. “I suppose that’s about as much as I can ask for…”

“He seems pretty invested,” You observe. “Reckon he’s going to buy it?”

Xingqiu shakes his head. “No. He’s going to come up here and realise he’s forgotten all his Mora again, and then you’re going to end up buying it for him again because you have a giant crush—”

You shove him in the shoulder so hard that he falls off his stool. “Oh, shut up.”

Xingqiu quickly catches himself on the side of the table and shoots you a glare, fumbling to retrieve the book that he’s accidentally dropped in the process. “Hey! This book doesn’t belong to us, you know.”

“It’s one book, A-Qiu,” You sigh as he turns away from you, clutching the book to his chest like it’s some precious child that you’re threatening to kidnap. “Mr Yao isn’t going to condemn you if it gets a little dusty.”

“Books should be treated with respect,” Xingqiu sniffs, turning up his nose at you like some nobleman - which he technically could be considered, now that you think about it. “You of all people should know that.”

“Just because I work at a bookshop doesn’t mean I think they’re Morax’s gift to man like you do,” You snort, noting in the corner of your eye that Zhongli’s eyes had flickered over to you briefly as you spoke. “Sure, books are neat, but they’re not holy.”

“‘Books are neat?’” Xingqiu repeats disbelievingly. “Of all the words to—”

“Excuse me.”

Both you and Xingqiu jump in startled surprise - neither of you had noticed Zhongli approach the front desk. You gather yourself quickly and smile at him as he quietly sets the book on top of the counter and pushes it towards you with a small nod.

“Will that be all?” You ask, reaching for one of the complimentary bamboo bookmarks that you’re obligated to give out with every purchase. You’re pretty sure that Zhongli has more than enough at this point, but you don’t want to risk getting into hot water with Mr Yao for not doing it.

Zhongli takes the bamboo bookmark with a small smile. “Yes, thank you.”

You nod and flick the book open to check the price label on the inside of the cover. “Alright, that’ll be… 5000 Mora, please.”

Xingqiu mutters something resignedly under his breath as Zhongli reaches into his pocket and fumbles about for a moment, clearly not particularly hopeful that the man has actually brought his money with him today. Your little brother, as usual, is perfectly correct in his intuition; after a second of slightly embarrassed silence, Zhongli pulls his hand out of his pocket with nothing in it.

“My apologies,” He sighs, bowing his head in shame. “I’ve forgotten my money pouch again.”

“I knew it,” Xingqiu whispers.

“A-Qiu, shut up,” You hiss back, then turn back to Zhongli, your smile back in place. “No worries, I’ll buy it for you.”

His brows pinch together slightly in the smallest of frowns. “No, no, you shouldn’t. You’ve already spent so much money on me…”

“It’s no big deal!” You assure him brightly, already reaching into your lapels to find your coin pouch. “You seemed to be really into it earlier, so it’d be a shame if you couldn’t keep it, right?”

Zhongli’s frown deepens. “Even so...”

“You could always pay back with something else,” Xingqiu chimes in, the exasperated look on his face replaced with a shit-eating grin that you know all too well. Before you can step in and shove him into the cabinet or something to shut him up, though, he continues, turning to you in a parody of innocence, “What do you say? Mr Zhongli clearly has some time on his hands…”

You narrow your eyes at him, not liking what he’s implying with that grin. “I’m still on shift, A-Qiu, I can’t just up and leave. Mr Yao would probably kill me.”

“You’ve been working shifts for two weeks straight,” He counters, crossing his arms stubbornly. “I can mind the shop for a long enough for you to take a walk. He won’t notice a thing.”

“You won’t ‘mind the shop’, you’ll just sit there and read,” You shake your head and tussle his hair with a flippant hand. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you eyeing up those antiques at the back.”

He looks affronted. “Are you accusing me of stealing intent?”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” You explain patiently. “I’m just saying that your moral compass is very easily diverted when it comes to books.”

“If I may,” Zhongli begins, cutting off Xingqiu’s indignant spluttering. “I do not mind the idea.”

You turn to look at him in shock, only to see that his golden eyes are already fixed intently on you. He has the sort of gaze that makes you feel as if he’s seeing right through you, as if all of your faults and flaws and wishes and dreams are laid out bare for him to examine at his leisure - but Zhongli doesn’t look at you with any judgement. In fact, if you hope hard enough, you think that there might be some affection in his eyes.

“W-well, I—” You glance quickly back at Xingqiu, who pointedly refuses to help you, evidently offended by the moral compass comment. “I- I’d love to, honestly, but I need to finish my shift…”

“This young gentleman has already volunteered to take care of that for you,” Zhongli counters. There’s a strange intensity to the way he’s looking at you now - hope? Determination? “I know of a quiet spot just outside the harbour. If you would…?”

You glance at Xingqiu, who, despite still looking a little miffed, gives you a begrudging nod. After another moment of thought, you turn back to Zhongli, who gazes expectantly back at you.

“I’d love to go for a walk,” You say, standing up. “Lead the way.”

He smiles then, holding the door-curtain open for you to exit first. You pause briefly to wave a goodbye to Xingqiu, who pointedly sticks his nose in his book and pretends not to see it.

The two of you walk in silence for ten minutes or so, with him in the lead and you occasionally glancing behind you to make sure Xingqiu hasn’t already set the bookshop on fire or something. Zhongli walks rather more quickly than you’re used to, mostly because you usually walk with Xingqiu, who has refused to grow more than half an inch in the last three years and still has legs substantially shorter than yours. Zhongli seems to notice you lagging behind a little after a minute or so, slowing down his pace slightly so that the two of you can walk side by side properly.

“The breeze is pleasant this time of year,” Zhongli comments as the two of you cross the bridge to the mainland and begin to leave the harbour. “Particularly as the sun is going down.”

“I’ll have to get out to see the sunset more often, then,” You sigh. The amount of people milling about around you thins out the further the two of you walk from the harbour and along a grass-lined path, until the two of you are alone.

“I’d be happy to escort you,” He says, glancing quickly back at you, then snapping his head forward again. “...that is, if you’d like me to.”

You’re glad he isn’t looking at you, because you’re pretty sure that the look on your face is smitten to an absolutely ridiculous degree. It takes everything in you not to reach forward and grab Zhongli’s hand right then and there, but you restrain yourself just in time, knowing full well that initiating sudden physical contact with someone that you still don’t know all too well is incredibly rude.

“Of course I would,” You answer. “Just name a time and a place.”

He looks at you again, a gentle smile curving at his lips. “I’ll be sure to.”

The walk takes the two of you through a grove of trees dappled by the rich afternoon light. Zhongli speaks at length about the various different species that you pass; part of you is listening attentively, but the other part of you is far too distracted by the elegance of his quiet footsteps and the way the sunlight glows softly at the edges of his hair to register the information.

Leaves and branches crunch underfoot as Zhongli finally leads you out of the trees and out onto a quiet spot on the mountainside overlooking the harbour. He sits down on the ledge, legs dangling precariously over the edge, and you follow suit, quietly settling down beside him, leaving about two inches’ space between the two of you. Zhongli doesn’t say anything for a minute or so; he’s absorbed in watching the city below him, golden eyes darting back and forth as he watches the tiny figures of the people bustle about the streets.

You notice that he’s still holding the book you bought him earlier, keeping it set carefully in his lap with both hands placed firmly on top of it, as if he thinks it might slip out of his grasp and off the mountain if he isn’t careful.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” You begin, catching his attention. He turns to look at you, and the sudden sight of his content expression, framed by the sprawling fields and trees in the distance behind him and the light casting his features into sharp relief, knocks all the air from your lungs for a moment. You very nearly choke on your words, but manage to gather yourself in time to ask, “Why the sudden change in interest?”

He cocks his head ever so lightly to the side in confusion, then realises what you’re referring. “Ah - the book? I just wanted a change of pace, really.”

You nod in understanding. “I see. A-Qiu’s read that one. He says it’s one of his favourites.”

“Is A-Qiu the young gentleman accompanying you in the bookshop?”

“Yup.” You sigh, leaning back and kicking your legs slightly, noticing with some fascination that you can faintly see yourself reflected on the water far beneath you. “Xingqiu. He’s my little brother.”

If you squint hard enough, you can see Zhongli’s reflection in the water as well. He’s shifting slightly - is he moving closer to you? You can’t quite tell from the reflection alone, and you’re not about to risk looking at him. Zhongli is a little like the sun in that respect: warming you indirectly with his presence, but damn near blinding (and incredibly flustering) to look directly at or make eye contact with. He’s almost ethereal-looking - as if he isn’t quite of this world.

“He seems a well-intentioned boy,” Zhongli comments quietly.

You respond with a light-hearted scoff. “I’m not too sure about that. He’s good at hiding it behind a book and all those airs and graces, but he’s always annoying me.”

“Is that not what younger siblings are for?” He counters, eyes twinkling slightly as you laugh in reply.

“I guess they are, huh?” You shake your head, a grin continuing to play on your lips as you finally turn to look back at him. Somehow the blinding beauty of before feels as if it’s mellowed out, become softer around the edges - like a surging river calming to a trickling stream.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while. The late afternoon breeze picks up a little, and Zhongli’s hair dances about on the air, twisting and curling in swirls as if the very wind is playing with it. You’re so occupied by (subtly) staring at him that the small movement of him lifting a hand to adjust his tie makes you jolt slightly on the spot.

You can tell that he’s noticed as well, so you hurry to start a conversation before he can bring it up. “So… what’s the fascination with Yi Xichen?”

“...ah.” You might be imagining it, but you think you can see a faint flush forming over his cheeks. “The encyclopaedias?”

“What else?” You swing your legs back and forth restlessly, leaning forward and resting your cheek in your hand. “You must have at least fifteen copies by now. Are you collecting them or something?”

“Well, no...” He glances away from you, intertwining his fingers. “I suppose I’m not particularly good at ‘acting natural’, am I?”

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Zhongli fiddles slightly with the seam of his glove, looking uncharacteristically bashful. “I have no need for encyclopaedias, but after the first few days, I found that I had fallen into the routine of selecting one every time I visited.”

“Why did you visit, then?” You ask.

He glances quickly at you, then back down at the water. He doesn’t answer at first, as if mulling over what to say, until finally, he replies, “...I suppose I just wanted to see you.”

It takes you a good moment to fully process what he’s just said to you. Once you do, though, your entire body implode. Well, it feels it does, anyway.

“I— you— me— huh?” is all you manage to get out at first, hands dancing around in front of you like two birds trying to escape from a net, as if they’re trying to physically pluck some words to say from the air. It’s a bad habit you’ve always had, throwing your hands about when you’re stressed; it drives you mad sometimes, but you can’t stop yourself.

Zhongli closes his eyes and bows his head, and there’s no mistaking it - his cheeks are definitely pinker than usual. “Is that alright?”

You nearly choke on air, but you force yourself to take a deep breath instead, fanning yourself briefly with one hand. Getting flustered heats you up surprisingly quickly. “Y-yeah! Of course it’s okay.”

“I’m glad.” He smiles a little bashfully, leaning forward and tilting his head slightly to look at you. “I don’t want to overwhelm you, but, if it’s alright… could I see you more often after today as well?

The sheer adrenaline rushing through you is so intense that you’re surprised that you haven’t busted a blood vessel yet. Actually, as far as you know, you might as well have - you’re far too focused on the man in front of you and his… confession? Is this a confession? You’ve read romance novels, sure, but is that how it works in real life as well? What are you supposed to do?

Your head is so filled with pure chaos that you just know that, if you speak, you’re going to say something completely inane and stupid. So, instead, you reach forward, and take his hand in your slightly shaky one.

He looks down at your intertwined fingers with mild surprise for a moment, then raises his gaze to you once more, eyes lighting up slightly. “...I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

You nod quietly, hesitantly shuffling closer to him. He squeezes your hand almost experimentally, then glances quickly back up at you as if trying to gauge your reaction. You offer him a smile; he returns it wholeheartedly.

You’re sure that you’ll have missed the rest of your shift by now, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care. Zhongli doesn’t let go of your hand, and you in turn do not move away from him - if anything, you move closer, leaning slightly into his side. He doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does, he doesn’t object.

The sun is slowly beginning its descent, staining the sky a pale orange that reflects from the waters below you. It seems that the two of you will be seeing that sunset together a lot sooner than you had anticipated.

[burnedbyshoto]

Because I Love You

— Bakugou Katsuki has never been good with showing his feelings, and it definitely doesn’t change even when he falls in love. —

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, alcohol mention, angst, fluff

word count: 3,305

a/n: this is commission to the very lovely @candychronicles​! she requested an angsty bakugou, and with free range, this is what I came up with. I was inspired by the song nervous by gavin james, so go ahead and check that bish out if you want, its beautiful.

message to join taglist

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“Because I—” his voice trailed off.

Bakugou froze, his body frozen where he stood. Was it fair for him to say it, after so many months? Was it okay to say the small line that he craved to yell at you? Was he too late?

Your body was frozen too. The fur coat hanging by your elbows, the little black dress ruffled, obviously moved in your distress.  There were too many emotions in your eyes, and yet Bakugou could not make out a single one except uncensored hate. 

“Because you what?!” You snapped, your nostrils flaring in their annoyance, your cheeks glowing with rage. “Spit it out, asshole!”

His mouth opened, words failing him, and you scoffed. 

Tears welled in your eyes, your head shaking, and you angrily wiped away your tears.

“I thought so.”

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One Year Earlier

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“I like you, too.”

His fingers dragged against your cheek, his fingers curling under your jaw, and your lips parted. 

This was a movie, there was no other explanation for what was transpiring before you. The warm spring sun, the sweet smells of the blooming flowers, and the gentle breeze throwing your hair around in a way that was short of perfection. His eyes were wide with shock, vermillion irises swimming with emotions that you never expected to see on his face — that he never excepted to feel — and when his fingers fixed on your face, they began to close. 

The air was electric, energy flowing tremendously between your connected bodies, and when Bakugou moved towards you, his head dipping down, there was nothing that could make this scenario better. Your eyes closed, and his lips pressed against yours. Soft, warm, and just slightly chapped. There was so much going on internally, his mind short-circuited, his body moving instinctually against yours.

Your arms found themselves around his neck, his wrapping around your waist.

This was blissful; this was the beginning of a relationship.

Bakugou couldn’t do anything when you pulled away, the kiss had ended way too soon in his opinion. But Bakugou smiling softly, his eyes still closed, a pleasant feeling vibrating through him.

“Something wrong?” you tease, your fingers threading into his hair.

Bakugou’s eyes snapped open, his eyes scrunching, his mouth attempting to fall into a frown. But he couldn’t frown, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile whenever he tried.

“You need to learn how to fucking shut up, shitty woman,” he growled, his arms pulling you in tighter. His eyes glinting wickedly, and it only fueled you more, making your lips quip into a smirk.

“Make me.”

There was no need to challenge him because your lips reconnected; once more, his body was soaring when his lips crashed against yours.

This was perfect.

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Bakugou’s eyes focused on the book that you were reading. Your body was curled into his side, head on his chest, and fingers slowly flipping the pages of your book. He had no idea why you were obsessed with murder mysteries, they always freaked you out, making you obsessive while you tried to crack the code. 

Warmth flooded his chest, making him smile when your nose twitched. It was a telling sign that your beliefs were not going according to the plot. His hands squeezed your side, a teasing touch that made you smack your head against his chest.

“It’s getting late,” Bakugou muttered, his lips pressing onto the top of your head. “Shouldn’t you be going now?”

He watched when you placed your book down, your eyes focusing onto his alarm clock, it read eleven at night. You grunted, and Bakugou watched on in amusement when you rolled on top of him, your nose buried into the crook of his neck.

“It’s so late,” you sighed, wiggling into his body, like that would get you closer to him. “Can’t I just spend the night?”

Those words shouldn’t have scared Bakugou, they shouldn’t have sent a worrisome pit in the middle of his stomach, but they did. The thing about cavities is that they were dangerous, small and avoidable at first, but grew large, destroying everything that it came across until it stopped. But the damage was there, and it was too late to stop it.

“Maybe another night,” Bakugou murmured into your ear, his fingers gripping your waist. “Not tonight, I have to wake up fucking early tomorrow.”

He could feel you stilling against him, but a small nod was then felt after a moment of silence.

“Yeah, of course,” you whisper, pushing up off him. Bakugou looked into your eyes, the warmth in them enough to make him ache for lying to you. But he wasn’t ready for that, not yet at least.

Unsure of what to say, Bakugou brought you in for a kiss. The sweet feeling of your lips pressed into his was phenomenal, the overwhelming desire to flip you over onto your back and make you succumb to his desires almost intoxicating. But when your tongue dragged against his bottom lip, he grunted.

He rolled over, pushing your body into the mattress, not too roughly, but just enough to elicit a sweet moan from you. His lips dragged down your cheek and onto your jaw, his teeth biting your flesh, and the cutest giggle escaped your mouth. 

“Don’t be getting horny on me when you’re gonna kick me out,” you warn, your fingers grazing against his chest, the sensation sending goosebumps down his entire body. 

Ask her to stay, ask her to stay, he thought over and over, but he cowered. Pulling away, Bakugou rolled his eyes, his fingers pinching your cheeks.

“Shut up, idiot,” he reprimanded, his eyes looking at your lips, mesmerized by them when your teeth bite onto your lower lip. 

“I’ll only shut up if you…” you trailed off, your eyes and nose scrunching while you thought. “If you give me a new hoodie!”

Bakugou’s temple throbbed, his body pushing off you in annoyance, “You stole fucking seven of my eight hoodies already! Is that not fucking enough?”

But his temper was short-lived when you started to giggle, your arms wrapping around him despite him moving away. 

“NOPE!”

It was after Bakugou dropped you off at your apartment, and when he was going back home, did he realize just how much he missed you. Regret filling him when he entered his place that seemed the smallest bit sadder now. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he groaned, feelings were stupid, this would be over soon regardless. 

You were too good for him.

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“I love you.”

Bakugou freezes, his chopsticks centimeters from his wide-open mouth. His eyes flashed up to yours, and he fell frozen at the sight of your scared and hopeful eyes. You had been dating a little over six months, but those three words hadn’t been ushered before. 

Your fingers were pressed into the edge of the table. A stiffness to your posture while you stared at Bakugou.

Unsure of what to do, Bakugou placed the food in his mouth, his gaze not falling from yours. There was a pit in his stomach, an unsettling feeling of his bottled anxieties and emotional suppression that threatened to spill out. Love was something that everyone felt, it was this feeling so powerful that even if you didn’t know it, the moment it hit, you knew.

Bakugou had been in love with you the second he kissed you, the way you clutched him close was enough to make him swear to be yours forever. But in this essential time, the time to finally come forward and confess to these feelings, he froze. 

“Why the hell do you love me?” he questioned instead, his face emotionless.

The words were harsh, but Bakugou thought they could have been worse. But it was a response that you weren’t expecting, it was apparent through the bewildered look on your face, your eyes blinking rapidly as if you had confessed to a stranger.

“A lot of reasons,” you laugh awkwardly, your fingers meshing together as they do when you’re uncomfortable. 

“Name one.”

He watched your face fall, and his stomach squeezed at the way your bottom lip became trapped between your teeth. It was a sight that he wished he would never have to see, this sort of rejected unrequited love that was stemming from him. His heartbeat drummed in his throat, making it hard to breathe, but he wouldn’t let you know that he couldn’t tell you that.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, your fingers grasping your chopsticks again. There’s a long pause, your eyes focusing on your food, and guilt scorches Bakugou’s veins. “I guess you just make me incredibly happy.”

“That’s a stupid fucking reason for being in love with someone.”

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“Y/n,” Bakugou yelled, his towel around his waist gradually becoming soaked since he had just emerged from the shower. His footsteps were loud, thundering against the wooden floors, and they were full of anger. He turned on his heel, immediately storming into his bedroom.

His bedroom, not yours, not the two of yours. Just his.

But you were invading his space. There was an entire drawer dedicated to you, a towel that was now yours, a pile of books he would never be caught reading were piling up, and even worse, you had been hinting at moving in together. But it was too much for Bakugou, too much for him to process in what seemed like short notice. It made him itchy, but seeing your bathing items in his shower tonight had triggered an almost barbaric reaction from him.

“What the hell do you think you’re fucking doing?!” He yelled the second he entered the room.

His shoulders were tensed, the muscles all over his body flaring, and his tongue rolling with words that his brain couldn’t keep up with. The only thought he was forming was a plea, a desperate tone to stop. 

“What am I doing?” you ask, eyes wide, phone in your hand. It was a visible indicator that you were getting ready for bed yourself. Long gone were your nights of staying up until four in the morning, and his nights of going to bed at eight, but some habits die hard it seemed. “Is it about that snapchat I sent you? I didn’t think you saw it yet!”

“Not about the snapchat,” Bakugou growled knowing full well it was a video of you zooming in and out of his back before returning to your face with some horrendous filter on you. “I’m talking about my place.”

Your eyes blinked, and Bakugou could only stand in angry horror at what was building within him. Why was he so fucking angry?

“Is it… about my sock?” you question, pointing at the sock on top of the bed. By the looks of it, you had just taken it off, seeing that you were only wearing one sock.

“Yes,” he snapped. “But it’s not just that. It’s fucking everything!”

“What do you mean, ‘suki?”

“Don’t call me that!” Bakugo sneered ignoring your recoil. The nickname was too much, it was too soft, too loving. It wasn’t him, it could never be him. “Don’t you fucking see what you’re doing here?! You’re invading my goddamn life! Nothing in here is mine, everything I see is fucking yours! This is my goddamn place, this is my fucking life! You’re my shitty girlfriend, not my annoying mom, and definitely not my goddamn wife, so I don’t see what the hell you’re trying to play here!”

Your eyes were wide, an undeniable testament to your hurt feelings. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve been… invading your space, I just assumed that—”

“Well you shouldn’t have been assuming shit! Since day one I told you that you couldn’t sleep here, but that hasn’t stopped you! Don’t think I didn’t fucking see you falling asleep before I saw the time on purpose, I’m not a goddamn idiot! I don’t know what insinuated that it would be okay for you to fucking come and stay here? You have your own goddamn place with a bed that’s much better suited for you than my own. So why are you here?!”

Your lips were drawn into a fine line, your legs tucked underneath you, your fingers fisting into your — his — sweater. 

“It’s hard to remember boundaries when you’re in love,” you reason, a half-hearted smile on your face. 

Stop.

Don’t leave.

Stop it.

Don’t go.

Don’t do it.

“I’m not in love with you,” Bakugou speaks in a low tenor, his body rigid, his tone serious. “My feelings haven’t changed since you told me that months ago. You can keep telling me that everyday, I’m not going to repeat it back because I don’t love you back, and I won’t ever. It’s pathetic, telling me these feelings, expecting me to cave?”

“What are you trying to say,” you spoke back, your eyes finally meeting his. But they’re cold, furious, quiet. They’re not the eyes he’s used to looking into, they’re not the eyes he loves.

“Use your fucking brain, idiot.”

“You’re an asshole, Bakugou,” you laugh joylessly, a grin spreading across your face, your head shaking. “A complete and utter asshole.”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! You know, when I first admitted that I had feelings for you, everyone told me that it was a mistake. No one was supportive in my feelings, and everyone told me to run, to burn those feelings. But I thought,” you trailed off, your nose scrunching while you placed on your sock. “I thought that I knew you better.”

“Obviously you didn’t.”

You rose to your feet, the sweater around your body being tossed to the side.

“Obviously,” you laughed again, your head shaking. “Destroy all my things, I don’t want them back — we’re over.”

So Bakugou stood in the same spot he was in, the cold and wet towel pressing uncomfortably into him. The sounds of you walking to the front door and the rattling of the slamming door made his heart clench.

Bakugou Katsuki didn’t cry; the number of times he cried could be counted on a single hand. But again, the second he realized just how alone he was, he still didn’t cry. No, Bakugou Katsuki fell to his knees sobbing.

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“Come on, Bakubro,” Kirishima’s faux cheery voice rang from the opposite side of the call. “It’ll be a good time! The squad will be there, and the club is apparently super fun!”

Why Bakugou agreed was beyond him.

He was a wreck, to say the least, and he hated it. Why couldn’t he be rational and say that he loved you back? Why couldn’t he have just been honest and admit that he was scared?

But there was nothing he could do about it, you had blocked him before he could get to his senses, was someone amazing at avoiding him everywhere, and he was banned from your apartment building. So here he was, at some new club with his friends who were screaming and drinking as they pleased.

Bakugou held onto his glass with a single hand, his eyes focused onto the dance floor, trying to ignore his friend's pleas for him to just drink. But something caught his attention on the dance floor, hair that he could point out in a sea of identical colors. 

It was you.

Dressed in a little black dress and a fur coat that just pulled together a look that he had never seen you wear before. You were gorgeous, stunning as the stars in the night sky, and Bakugou for the first time since the last time he saw you felt whole again. He watched when you moved your hips in time with the music, your jaw dropping in unmistakable singing, and you looked happy — carefree.

A smile melted away on Bakugou’s face despite the panging in his heart, that is, until a man stepped behind you and latched his crotch onto your ass.

Bakugou could not lie, he didn’t remember much of what happened. Only that his vision became red, and the next thing he knew, he was outside, your arm in his grip, and you obvious distress loud while you hit him.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!” You scream, finally worming your arm from his hold, shoving his back while you take steps away from him. 

“He was a fucking creep,” Bakugou snapped, his arms folding as if this was something known. “He shouldn’t have been touching you like you were his goddamn property!”

“No! No, no, no, you don’t get to decide who touches me! You don’t have the right to be angry! We’re done, we broke up! You didn’t so much as like me, you made that so painfully obvious,” you gasp, angry tears in your eyes and an exasperated look on your face. “For a year, a goddamn year of my life, I let you behave like a dick because I thought I meant something special to you! You were so cruel and so mean, and I was a fool for believing that I meant more.”

“You did mean something to me, dumbass!”

“Like hell I meant something to you! I was a distraction! You hated me!”

“No you fucking weren’t!”

“And why the hell should I believe you?! You hated it when I spent the night, and you… what you said that final night and the night I told you that I loved you?! Are you fucking kidding me, Bakugou?! Give me one goddamn reason as to why I should trust you!”

“Because I—” his voice trailed off.

Bakugou froze, his body frozen where he stood. Was it fair for him to say it, after so many months? Was it okay to say the small line that he craved to yell at you? Was he too late?

Your body was frozen too. The fur coat hanging by your elbows, the little black dress ruffled, obviously moved in your distress.  There were too many emotions in your eyes, and yet Bakugou could not make out a single one except uncensored hate. 

“Because you what?!” You snapped, your nostrils flaring in their annoyance, your cheeks glowing with rage. “Spit it out, asshole!”

His mouth opened, words failing him, and you scoffed. 

Tears welled in your eyes, your head shaking, and you angrily wiped away your tears.

“I thought so.”

Bakugou watched while you stormed away, hitting your shoulder onto his arm while you passed him.

Say it.

Say it.

Fucking say it, you coward.

“Because I love you,” Bakugou whispered just loud enough for you to hear, his body turning towards you. Your hand held onto the door, your body frozen. “I was a fucking coward, I am a fucking coward. I just… god fucking hell, you are so good, you are too good. I’m only good at being a hero because of my quirk, but I’m not a good person! You scare me because you are fucking perfect, you are everything that I could never be and it scares me! People don’t fall in love with me! They’ll have anyone but me first! I’m loud and rude, and I’m an ass, but you fell in love with me, and the thing is I don’t understand love. It makes no sense, but I’ve loved you since day one, but every time I tried to say something, every time I tried to confess, I couldn’t!”

You turned to face him, your lower lip trembling with overwhelming desire.

“S-Stop…”

“I love you, y//l/n y/n,” Bakugou breathed with perfect clarity, his strides leading him to where you stood, his hands holding your cheeks. “Even if I can never get you to say it back to me ever again, I will spend the rest of my life loving you.”