#...if anyone would be interested of course | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonlitwitchdaisy · 2 days ago

Text

I Could Give You A Ride

✰ summary: would you want to give a ride to a bartender you randomly meet at a bar? oh, i think you do. but don't forget, it could end earlier than you expect!

✰ warnings: +18 Minors Do Not Interact +18 (bartender!choso x fem!reader, alcohol use, mature language, drunk reader, kissing, neck kissing, tit sucking, reader is riding choso's fingers, quick ending because of choso's excitement lol)

✰ a little note: i originally planned a completely different ending, but i ended it in another way with this silly and funny idea that came to mind. i love my cute emo boy Choso <3

✰ word count: 3.4k

I guess it was about time.

Yes, it was definitely time, because you didn’t know how much longer you could hold yourself back. Watching like a creep wasn’t an option anymore; you had to take action. That way, you could confirm your certification as an official creep.

But every time you hyped yourself up, telling yourself “I’m doing it now!” your enthusiasm would fizzle out, and you’d return to sipping your drink.

Why had you even come here in the first place?

After a long work week, you definitely deserved a drink. And, as luck would have it, the handsome and sweet bartender came as a bonus with great cocktails.

Sitting in the right corner of the wide bar, nursing your fourth mojito, and sneaking glances at the bartender, you couldn’t help the unnecessary fluttering inside you. It had all started last week when one of your close girlfriends discovered this place. It might’ve been a bit too quiet for a girls’ night out, but as long as you were gossiping, nothing else mattered.

One of your friends had been mid-sip when she suddenly froze, pointing toward the handsome bartender making drinks at the counter. You, along with the rest of your friends, had turned to stare, mouths agape, as he shook the cocktail shaker like a pro.

“Oh my God… I wish he’d shake me like that,” your friend had blurted.

Eyes still glued to the emo bartender behind the bar, you’d replied, “Since when are emos this hot?”

The shock of your words had been enough to grab all your friends’ attention because it had been ages since you’d expressed interest in anyone.

“I knew there was still hope! Finally, someone’s got you wet,” one of them teased.

Rolling your eyes, you’d shot back, “Girls I only said he’s hot, okay? Anyway, he can be as cute and attractive as he wants, but he’s definitely not someone I’d want to sleep with. Can we stop being creeps and get back to our girls’ night?”

Despite their reluctance, they’d agreed, and the evening had continued.

Of course, you wanted to sleep with him. That feeling had been there from the moment you first saw him. Ever since that girls’ night, all you could think about was that bartender going down on you, giving you orgasms over and over again.

As you racked your brain over how to return to this bar, you finally gave in to temptation and dragged yourself here on a Friday as a well-earned reward.

Sure, you wanted to see the hot emo bartender again, but the cocktail you were sipping was a nice bonus.

When you walked in, there had been empty tables around, but you’d chosen a seat at the bar instead. After all, you’d come here for one reason.

When you locked eyes with the bartender, he smiled at you and walked over, politely asking what you’d like. After ordering your mojito, you’d watched him intently as he prepared it.

The way he precisely measured the ingredients and poured them into the shaker, the way his tattooed, muscular arms flexed as he shook it—it had you pressing your thighs together, trying (and failing) to ease the ache between your legs.

Apparently, emos could be insanely attractive.

Lost in your admiration of the hot bartender, you’d snapped out of it when he placed your finished cocktail in front of you. Your eyes darted from the drink to him, noticing the self-assured smirk on his face as if he knew you’d been ogling him.

Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you’d managed a flustered thank you before taking a sip. His smirk had only widened as he walked back to the center of the bar to prepare another drink.

The pattern repeated itself after that. You’d raise your empty glass for another order, he’d collect it with a smile, and you’d shamelessly ogle him as he made an even better mojito than the last.

How long could this go on? You weren’t sure. You wanted to talk to him, to get to know him, but the fear of rejection kept holding you back. It didn’t help that you hadn’t had a proper conversation with anyone in ages, so your confidence was shot. Besides, he was working. Why would he stop everything to chat with you? It felt ridiculous.

Maybe the timing just wasn’t right. Or maybe you were just lying to yourself.

Lost in thought, you stared at the remnants of your mojito when a small shadow appeared in front of you. Lifting your head, you found yourself staring into a pair of beautifully lined eyes.

His face held a mix of a smile and an inquisitive expression, as if he were trying to figure you out. The woody scent of his cologne surrounded you, and whether it was the alcohol or not, the sight of his tattooed forearms peeking out from his rolled-up sleeves made him look extra tempting.

Had they been this good the first time you saw him? Oh, absolutely.

You wanted to take back everything you’d said last week because you definitely wanted to fuck him now.

“You don’t seem like you’re having much fun.”

You stood there speechless, continuing to stare at the bartender you found so attractive. When you finally managed to collect your words and decided to speak, you answered in a soft voice, “Uhmm, I don’t know.”

He laughed sincerely at your response. He’d smiled at you before, but hearing him chuckle like this stirred a completely different feeling inside you.

“Usually, people on their sixth drink are in party mode, but for you, it seems to be causing depression.”

You were never someone whose mood dropped when drinking. On the contrary, you became more cheerful and energetic. And yet, here you were, struggling not to press your lips against this emo bartender’s—

Wait. Did he say sixth drink? Because you were pretty sure you were just about to finish your fourth.

With a puzzled expression, you asked, “Sixth drink?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, you’re on your sixth one now.”

Shit. There was no way you were drunk. Who even gets drunk on cocktails? Sure, six might be a bit much, but you’d definitely had more before.

Covering your face with your hands in embarrassment, you tried to process what had just happened. But that warm, masculine chuckle reached your ears again, and you slowly pulled your hands away to look at him.

“I should’ve stopped you after your fourth. I noticed your eyes starting to droop a little,” he said, his face showing a hint of concern. “Do you want me to get you some water?”

“Oh, no, thanks. Normally, I’m a pretty resilient drinker.”

“Sure, I can see that,” he teased, his tone playful and a little mocking.

His words stung a little, so you frowned and tried to prove your point. “I’m serious. I could have six glasses of whiskey and still be perfectly fine.”

Determined to show him you were still steady, you attempted to stand up—only to stumble slightly, prompting the sexy bartender to reach out and steady you.

His long, veiny arms reached across the bar to catch you, holding you firmly. And wow, how many tattoos did this man have?

“Jesus, you scared me, sweetheart.”

Plenty of people had called you “sweetheart” before, but you weren’t sure anyone had ever said it as beautifully as he just did.

“Your voice is so… soft.” You weren’t sure why you said that. You probably should’ve just thanked him for catching you, but instead, you blurted out whatever came to mind.

“If you sit back down on the stool, I can talk to you more. What do you say?”

Within a second, your drunk self processed his words and obediently sat back on the stool. All for the sake of hearing that soft, beautiful voice again.

“Okay, you can talk now, emo boy.”

“Huh! So you’ve already given me a nickname,” he said, leaning on the bar as he got closer to you. “Tell me, did you come up with it while secretly staring at me all this time?”

Well, so you weren’t a secret creep. Apparently, you were a very obvious one. At least that made you a little less terrifying. You felt your cheeks heat up. You didn’t know how he’d noticed you watching him, but in your drunken state, you gave the best response you could muster.

“Guess I’m not the only creep who likes staring at people.”

The handsome bartender’s cheeks flushed at your remark, and you let out a small laugh. There was nothing cuter than a flustered guy.

“You caught me, sweetheart.”

“What can I say? I love making handsome bartenders blush when I’m drunk.” Your hands found their way to his cheeks, gently caressing them. It felt like you were touching the softest thing in the world. He closed his eyes, seemingly enjoying your touch. But then his sharp voice broke the moment. “If you keep this up, I’ll bend you over this counter and fuck you so hard that make you scream loud enough to scare off all the customers.”

Your eyes widened in shock. That had to be your drunk mind playing tricks on you. There was no way he’d actually said that. You were just hearing what you wanted to hear.

“Okay,” you said, as if to reassure yourself of the truth.

“Okay?” he repeated, confused.

“I accept, emo boy.”

He let out a sweet laugh. “You accept me bending you over the bar and fucking you until you scream?”

“Uh-huh, exactly that.”

“I only said it so you’d sober up and realize what you’re doing, sweetheart.”

A small pang of disappointment hit you. No, scratch that—it was a huge pang of disappointment. For a second, you’d hoped he meant it, that he actually wanted you.

Sure, he could make amazing cocktails, but if he didn’t take the number-one bartender rule—never play with drunk customers—seriously, then he clearly wasn’t taking his job seriously either.

“Uh, I see. I’m sorry,” you muttered, your voice low as you averted your gaze to the floor. You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore.

“Shit, I—look, it’s 11:30 right now, and we close in half an hour. I can’t let you go home alone in this state, so please—”

You interrupted him, your tone tinged with irritation. “That’s not necessary. I can handle myself.” You pulled out your wallet, placed some money on the counter, and said, “The drinks were great. Have a good night.”

Fueled by your disappointment, you sobered up just enough to stand without stumbling and made your way to the exit.

But before you could leave, you felt a hand on your arm. Turning around, you locked eyes with the “cute, handsome, and deceitful bartender.” He looked at you with a sorrowful expression, like a wounded deer. He knew full well he’d hurt you.

Closing your eyes briefly, you let out a sigh and began to apologize for your unnecessary outburst. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m drunk and overreacting to everything. There was nothing wrong with what you said. I’m just a regular customer, and honestly, I shouldn’t have touched you like that in the first place. I’m really—”

“Please let me give you a ride home, sweetheart. I can’t let you go like this on your own.”

How could you say no to that? He looked like a sad puppy, waiting for your forgiveness. And as much as you wanted to storm off and leave, deep down, the thought of being out alone at this hour scared you.

“Waiting half an hour wouldn’t hurt,” you said, offering him a small smile.

The bartender seemed to understand that you’d let go of your anger, and he returned your smile. He guided you to a more comfortable seat in the lounge area and promised to finish up quickly so he could join you.

The seats were much softer here. Sure, you’d endured the hard barstool for the handsome bartender, but this felt like heaven. Setting your bag beside you and leaning back, you closed your eyes. You told yourself you’d just rest them for a moment. But you didn’t realize when sleep took over.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

When you woke up, your eyes opened easily. The bar was dimly lit, with only a faint glow above the counter. The customers had left, and the handsome bartender was sitting on one of the stools, engrossed in his phone.

Why hadn’t he woken you up?

As you got up and walked toward him, he looked up from his phone and turned his gaze to you. That beautiful smile, which suited him so well, appeared on his face.

“Hey, you’re awake. I didn’t want to wake you, and I thought you could use the rest to sober up. Feeling better?”

He didn’t have to be this sweet. You silently swore to yourself that you’d never come here again, but his kindness only made you like him even more.

Taking a deep breath, you finally let out everything you’d been holding inside. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since I saw you last week. I came here today, using the excuse of treating myself, just to come here and see you again. I’m not good at this, and it makes me really nervous. You made it clear you’re not interested, but I still wanted to tell you how I feel, even if I never get to see you again.” By the time you finished speaking, you realized you were out of breath. You had blurted everything out in one go. You might’ve embarrassed yourself further, but at least you felt relieved.

“So, you’re saying you’re a professional creep?” His tone was anything but serious, and when you looked at him, you noticed the barely contained laughter on his face.

You started laughing, a mix of nerves and amusement, and nodded. Pulling your phone from your bag, you checked the time—12:30 AM.

“It’s late; I should—Hmph.” Your words were cut off by his lips pressing against yours. It wasn’t the first time you’d been interrupted tonight by him, but if all interruptions were like this, you’d gladly welcome them.

You dropped your phone and bag to the floor, letting your hands find their way to his long, black hair. The man in front of you kissed you with passion—not rushed, but deliberate, as if he’d been craving your lips all night.

When he grabbed your waist and lifted you, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips, allowing him to carry you to the bar counter. His lips tasted of mint and strawberry.

Alright, you definitely needed to ask him about that lip balm later.

When he pulled back to catch his breath, you managed to speak. “I thought you weren’t interested in me?”

His light-colored eyes, framed by black eyeliner, stared at you guiltily. “Since the moment you sat on that stool, all I’ve wanted was to taste your lips.” His fingers brushed over your lips gently. “So fucking full and soft. I know the rest of you is just like this, sweetheart.”

As he leaned in to kiss you again, you stopped him, finally asking the question that had been on your mind since the moment you saw him. “Are you ever going to tell me your name, or are you planning to keep the mystery alive?”

He kissed you softly before pulling back. “Choso.”

“Hmmm, do you know what I’m thinking right now, Choso?”

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked in a low, husky voice.

“You’re going to give me a ride home tonight, but in return, I want to ride you too.”

His eyes widened, and even in the dim light, you could see his cheeks flush. For someone who looked so tough, he was surprisingly shy. Leaning into his ear, you whispered, “Will you let me?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, his earlier dominance now replaced with a more submissive tone.

“Then take me to the lounge area, Choso.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

With your legs still wrapped around his waist, Choso carried you to the lounge. As he walked, you placed wet kisses along his neck, occasionally nibbling his skin, which earned soft groans from him.

When he sat down on the couch, he placed you on his lap. His hands found your breasts, kneading them gently, while his lips latched onto your neck. You weren’t sure which of his actions was more pleasurable—the way his lips sucked on the sensitive spots of your neck, or the way his fingers teased your nipples through your clothes.

Why choose when you could have both?

“Shit—Choso, this feels so good. Please… I don’t just want your fingers,” you moaned eagerly.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, tugging at your top.

“Yes, please.”

The moment he got your top off, leaving you bare before him, his hands stilled, and he stared at your breasts. He looked like a child who had finally gotten the toy they’d been dreaming of, his mouth slightly open in awe. Slowly, he lowered his head to your right breast, placing soft kisses around it.

“Just as I thought,” he murmured between kisses. “Absolutely *smooch* perfect *smooch* and *smooch* so soft.”

After kissing all around your breast, he let his tongue flick over your nipple. When your moan filled the room, he glanced up at you and licked it again, this time keeping his gaze locked with yours. Once he broke eye contact, he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking it gently.

“Oh, God, Choso—fuck, fuck… they’re so sensitive,” you whimpered. The way he suckled your nipple made you feel like you might lose your mind. When his fingers found your other nipple and began teasing it, you arched your back and tangled your hands in his hair, silently begging for this to never end.

“Choso—I’m—I’m—”

He pulled back just enough to speak, his voice breathless. “Fuck, sweetheart, I could come just from sucking on your tits.”

“Do you want me to suck your—”

He placed a wet kiss between your breasts and looked into your eyes. “Not tonight. Tonight is about you. I just want to make you feel good.”

His hands slipped under your skirt, tugging your black thong down your hips before his fingers brushed along your slick folds.

“Choso—ugh, please, just put them in,” you begged.

Obliging, he slid one finger inside you, pumping slowly at first.

His long, thick finger found your G-spot almost immediately, pressing against it in just the right way. As your moans grew louder, he added a second finger and increased his pace, his fingers thrusting in and out of you with more urgency.

“Shit—shit, you’re so tight. If I fuck this pussy, I’ll come in two seconds,” he muttered, his voice strained as if he was barely holding himself together.

“Ahhh, Choso, right there—right—UGHH CHOSO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” You cried out as his teeth gently bit down on your other nipple. Your hands found his hair again as you whimpered, “More—I want more.”

Noticing the way your hips bucked to meet his movements, Choso chuckled against your skin. “I think—I think I’m falling for you. I’ve never seen a pussy this—fuck—this wet before.”

“It’s all for you, Choso. Just—just keep going, and I’m going to—ughhh.”

“Come for me, baby. Come all over my fucking fingers.”

Your walls clenched tightly around his fingers as you screamed out in pleasure, your orgasm washing over you. Choso let out a low growl, swearing under his breath as your hips stilled. He gently pumped his fingers inside you a few more times before pulling them out and bringing them to his mouth, licking up every drop of your release.

As you lay there catching your breath, your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his shy, muffled voice.

“Uh, um… can we take a little break?”

Though you didn’t know why, you nodded understandingly. “Of course. Is something wrong?”

His brows furrowed as if he couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed. “You—you didn’t notice?”

Laughing at how adorably flustered he looked, you leaned in and kissed him softly. “Notice what, emo boy? If it’s about how good you fingered me, I think we both know how much I enjoyed it.”

“That’s not it…”

Now you were genuinely concerned. “Choso, I don’t understand. What happened?”

Avoiding your gaze, he glanced around the room before finally meeting your eyes with a resigned sigh. “I… I came, too.”

“Oh…”

Alright. You hadn’t noticed that.

After a brief moment of stunned silence, you burst into laughter, making his embarrassment even worse. Determined to make it up to him, you gave him the best blowjob of his life.

And then, as promised, you rode him until you were both drenched in sweat, your moans echoing loud enough for anyone outside to hear.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

choso kamo art by @yappdoll on X.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #choso kamo #kamo choso #choso kamo x reader #jjk x reader smut #choso smut #choso x reader #choso kamo x you #choso x you #choso kamo x y/n #jjk oneshot

192 notes · View notes

azsazz · 2 days ago

Text

Over Ice (Part 7)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: Drinking, playing party games.

Word Count: 2,904

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

_________________________________________

Playing a game his cousin made up has never ended well. Not when they were younger, and Rhys knows that it certainly isn’t going to end well tonight, especially when there’s alcohol involved.

He doesn’t know why he agreed. Maybe it was because he was thinking more with his cock than his head, the taste of your skin still buzzing across his lips like a spell you put him under. He wants to move closer, doesn’t like how you’re sitting on the other side of the circle from him, with too many people between the both of you and even more who join when Mor announces the game to anyone around who’s listening.

Of course, Amarantha pushes her way into the circle, taking up position right beside him. He stiffens, and it takes effort for Rhys to unhinge his jaw and slug back some of the amber liquid in his cup that Cassian poured him. It’s pretty much just straight alcohol, which might be exactly what he needs to endure this game if his clingy ex stands beside him all night.

Your eyes latched onto his ex the moment she entered the game. Mor made a face, knowing exactly who she is, but didn’t mention it. You wonder if she thinks that there’s a chance, she thinks Rhys and Amarantha have the possibility of rekindling their relationship, and you want to ask her how she feels about the girl, but you don’t want to seem too interested in her cousin and his ex.

It doesn’t stop you from looking, though. Amarantha’s friend flanks her side, creating a further distance between you and Rhys. You’re on completely opposites of the circle, now, and the smug grin on her red painted lip tell you she knows it, too. The stirs the neon pink straw in her cup. It makes her sharp, crimson nails pop. She gives you an innocent shrug when she catches you staring, and you tear your eyes from hers only to settle them on those familiar violet ones that are widened comically as if to tell you, Help me!

You don’t know how to help him. It’s not like you can move to sit between them; that alone would be enough for Mor to question you, and if Rhys’ ex forced you into doing something more to prove that you’re the couple you’re trying to make her think you are, it’ll be game over before it’s even begun, because your loyalties lie with your best friend.

This night has turned into such a shit show it’s all you can do to sit in your spot while Mor explains the rules.

“The name of the game is TD Bottle.” She plants a glass bottle in the center of the circle, and you already don’t like the looks of this. Peering around the circle, you assess the partygoers. If this is a kissing game, you want to know what you’re getting yourself into. There’s Rhys, who you carefully avoid eye contact with because the thought of his lips anywhere near your body again has shivers skittering up your spine. Amarantha, who hasn’t stopped glancing up at Rhys like he is her God. A few of Rhys’ teammates are scattered around the circle—Cassian, Balthazar, James, and even Azriel seems to be sitting in on the game as well, much to your surprise. The girls heavily outweigh the men, and Gwyn looks like a terrified mouse in the presence of a murder of crows.

You catch her bright blue eyes, silently asking if she’s okay. If she wants to leave, you’ll go with her, no questions asked.

She gives you a smile that you assume is supposed to be reassuring, but is anything but. But she stays. You all stay.

“Like, Touch Down?” James asks, brows bent in confusion.

“No, no, it’s like Touchy Dick,” Cassian throws in easily, eliciting laughter from the boys and eye rolls from the girls. But the mixture of anticipation and tension that hangs over the group disperses, and everyone seems to ease into their seats a little.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Mor wrinkles her nose, pulling a face of disgust.

“Please, tell us what the hell it means before they keep guessing,” Rhys mutters, bringing his cup to his lips for another swig. You watch the way his throat bobs as he swallows, and he raises a mocking brow when he catches your gaze. Shit. Maybe the few drinks you’ve had are starting to take effect, and this game surely isn’t going to help the case.

He winks, and it’s only then that you’re able to rip your gaze from his violet stare, cheeks burning warmly.

The only good thing is that Amarantha catches the interaction and her lips tighten to a razor thin line that makes her look more of like the snake you think she is.

“It stands for Truth, Dare, Bottle,” Mor says. “It’s a combination of truth and dare and spin the bottle.”

“How…” Rhys trails off, trying to find the word.

“Apropos?” You supply. You and Rhysand share conspiring smiles that feel much too intimate for the near-strangers you’re supposed to be in the presence of his cousin.

Mor whines. “That’s not fair, I can’t have one of my best friends and my cousin ganging up on me like this. I won’t stand for it!”

She means it as a joke, but it shocks you and Rhys, realizing that you should not be acting so friendly for only having met on a few occasions. Hell, Mor doesn’t even know that he’s your psychology tutor yet.

You nurse your drink, trying to ignore the knot that’s wound itself back into your stomach. It’s not mixing well with the tequila. You focus all your attention on your friend. “Sorry, continue.”

“So, one person spins the bottle,” Mor says, giving the empty glass a swing around the circle. Everyone seems to lean in closer, eager to see who it’s going to land on. You aren’t worried about it landing on you because it’s your roommate, but you’re sure this state of somewhat calm won’t last when it’s someone else spinning the bottle. Especially Rhys.

The bottle stops, it’s mouth pointing to Cassian, who beams like he’s won player of the year. “The person it lands on chooses truth or dare, and we all know how that game goes,” Mor waves her hand, gesturing Cassian to answer.

He waggles his brows. “Dare.”

“I dare you to…take off your shirt,” Mor says, and the girls in the circle whistle and cheer.

“I’m not wearing a shirt,” Cassian responds, gesturing to his bare torso hidden beneath his apron. You can see the tan skin of his broad back, the way his muscles ripple as he moves, and damn, that was a good dare.

A throat clearing draws your attention away from where you’re ogling Cassian’s body. Rhys raises an unimpressed brow, his jaw ticking as he stares you down. Amarantha’s red gaze flickers between you and Cassian, brows knitted together as if you’re some equation she’s trying to figure out.

“Sorry,” you mouth across the circle when Amarantha’s attention is diverted when Mor rolls her eyes and commands Cassian to take off his apron instead.

Rhys rolls his eyes, and you stifle the pang of disappointment at missing Cassian stripping off the top of his apron, now sitting completely shirtless in his spot.

“And now it’s Cassian’s turn to spin,” Mor finishes with a beaming smile. “See? Easy.”

“Super easy,” Cassian agrees, spinning the bottle. It lands on Amarantha’s friend, and his grin turns lethal. “Let’s make this more interesting. Alis, truth or dare?”

She crosses her arms over her chest, a move that Cassian does not mind at all, especially when it pushes her breasts up like that. She lifts her chin, staring him down as she answers, “Dare.”

Cassian ponders for a moment, before he breaks out into a mischievous smile. “I dare you to refill my cup with anything I want until the end of the game.”

Alis grimaces, and you so do not envy her, especially when Cassian immediately hands her his cup and asks her to fill it with ice and whiskey. He jokes, turning toward the circle, “Anyone else want anything?”

On and on the game goes until the bottle lands on Amarantha and she answers a truth about how many guys she’s slept with. Then, she taker her turn and spins the bottle. It lands on Rhysand, just like you knew it would somehow. It fills you with a nausea that you try to drown out with your drink, only to find your cup empty. Huh. You don’t remember downing your entire cup. Maybe you can dare someone to get you a refill when it’s your turn.

“Truth or dare, Rhys?” Amarantha says, sickeningly sweet. She even bats her eyelashes for effect, but Rhys doesn’t even glance her way, much more interested in trying to shatter the glass bottle pointing in his direction with his fiery glare.

“Truth,” he grits, bracing himself for whatever imploring question is going to fall from her lips.

“Do you miss that thing I did with my hands? When I would—”

“No,” he growls, cutting her off. Wherever she was trying to go with that question, it backfires, because Rhys reaches into the circle and spins the bottle with a flick that means business.

“Awe, I wanted to hear what she was going to say,” her friend pouts, though the glance she shares with her friend tells you she already knows.

“Well, Alis, maybe if you ask nicely, she’ll do it to you, too.” Rhys is undeterred by their gaping looks, and a few of his players can’t hold back their snickers. Amarantha and Alis’ cheeks turn red, and you think they might leave the game in the midst of their humiliation, but they stubbornly stay put.

He spins, and the bottle lands on one Cassian again, who seems to really be the only one enjoying the game. Rhys dares him to take a shot of alcohol. Lame, but Rhysand doesn’t want to play, knows that he’s only doing it because you are and he wants to bear witness to your truths and dares.

“(Y/N)? Truth or dare?”

“Um, dare.” You hadn’t meant to choose that option, but you were so distracted by the way that Rhys keeps leaning away from Amarantha every time she tries to slant against him. It yields a fire in your belly at the sight, one so consuming that you don’t realize what you’ve said until it’s too late.

Cassian grins like the cat that got the cream, and you don’t like it one fucking bit.

Rhys looks just as surprised as you do, even more so when Cassian dares you to kiss him. It’s then that he’s able to remove his gaze from you to glare at his roommate, though it does sting when your first reaction to the dare is to frown.

Mor groans, slapping Cassian’s side. “Dude, seriously?”

“Seriously,” he nods in confirmation. He’s clearly not reading the room. “What?” He asks, “Are you going to back out, (Y/N)?”

You shake your head. No, you can’t back out. Not when Amarantha thinks that you and Rhys are already together. She’d absolutely question why the two of you wouldn’t kiss, which would cause questions from Mor to unravel the plan you and Rhys have just agreed to.

“Mor,” you call, all but crawling across the large circle to reach Rhys. He catches on, something sparking in his violet eyes as he leans forward to meet you halfway. “Close your eyes.”

You hear an indignant huff, and then nothing because the pounding of your heart drowns out the noise of the party around you. There’s a question in Rhysand’s eyes and you shake your head softly, watching as he swallows harshly when you show that you’re doing this for the both of your sakes. You are not going to back down.

And then his mouth is on yours, and fucking stars explode.

You lose your surroundings completely: where you are, who you’re with, what fucking day it is. Rhys’s mouth is much softer than you imagined with all of the coarse language you know he spits on the ice.

You can taste the warmth of whiskey on his lips and you want to drown in it. He’s addicting, even more so when shivers rattle down your spine in pleasure when his tongue traces the seam of your mouth.

When you’re about to part your lips for him, a loud, forced cough steals your attention. You pull away and everything slams back into your full-force: the party, the people watching you, cheering for you, and your roommate and best friend, who looks less than impressed with your display of affection with her cousin.

Your heart that’s pounding in your chest because of the feeling of Rhys on your mouth turns into a pounding of guilt. You break Rhys’ heady gaze, quickly finding your spot back in the circle. You have the urge to straighten your shirt and fix your hair, like you’ve been caught doing something much worse than sharing an innocent kiss.

Except, that there was nothing about that kiss that felt innocent at all.

You keep your eyes averted, trying not to squeeze your legs shut to stifle the need for pleasure that aches between them. Fuck.

“(Y/N)?” Cassian sing-songs. Rhys shoots daggers at his friend. He doesn’t give a fuck about the game anymore, more worried about you and how you won’t meet his gaze. That kiss was fucking something, that’s for sure, and he can’t help but to run his tongue across his lips, chasing the taste of you. “It’s your turn.”

“Right,” you agree, pressing forward to reach for the bottle. You try not to remember the image of you doing the same only moments ago when you were reaching the distance to kiss Rhys, but the memory flashes in your head anyway, your cheeks going red hot.

The bottle spins and spins and your shoulders drop when it lands on Balthazar. You don’t know him all that well, and when he picks truth, you give him something easy.

“Have you ever cheated on a test?” You ask, lamely. All you want to do is get out of this circle, down another drink, and go home. The feeling of Rhysand’s lips still buzzes against yours, and it reverberates between your legs. If you could go home, you could…

“Yeah,” he admits, like it’s something everyone does. He reaches forward and spins the bottle, and freezes when it lands on Gwyn.

Her eyes are as wide as saucers. Her bottom lip is tucked between her teeth as she nervously thinks over her options. You and Mor share a look, both noticing how flighty she looks. Gwyn looks like she might just spring up from the circle and bolt out of here, and you can’t say that you wouldn’t be right behind her. You’re more than ready to be in the privacy of your own room.

“Truth or dare, Gwyn?”

“Dare,” she says softly, barely able to be heard over the music and chatter of the party. Balthazar hears, though, or perhaps he reads her lips because he’s staring at her so intently that you feel like you’re intruding on something.

You wonder what made her choose dare, like doing whatever he comes up with is the lesser of two evils. It’s clear that something is going on between the two of them, but you’ve never heard a peep about either of them knowing each other. Maybe they share a class?

Whatever it is, you’re entirely intrigued.

“I dare you to tell me why you won’t look at me.”

The circle goes deathly silent, which isn’t all that silent at all with the music shaking the walls of the house. But the small circle…when she finally raises her eyes to meet his, it’s like walls have shot up around all of you, like you’re on the field of the colosseum and Gwyn and Balth are the warriors ready to fight for to the death.

You’ve never been surer that you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be in your entire life. From across the circle, Rhys shoots you a look just as confused as you feel. You shrug, you have no idea what’s going on, and it’s all you can do to watch.

Gwyn doesn’t respond. It’s a stare off between the two of them, with her icy blue eyes glaring at him and him staring right back, brows furrowed in a hurt confusion.

She doesn’t answer. Gwyn climbs to her feet and threads her way into the crowd without a second glance, like Balthazar should know exactly why she finds it difficult to look at him. You can’t help it, you watch his face as soon as Gwyn’s red hair leaves your sight, watching the hurt flash across his eyes before he sits back in his spot in defeat.

“What?” He asks, lamely. “It’s not like I asked her to kiss me or anything.” Balthazar laughs drily, more than done with this game.

And neither do you. Whatever just happened, you’re more concerned about your roommate. You get to your feet, gauge how you feel with the few tequila pineapple juices you’ve had, before you follow after your roommate.

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @judig92 @se7enteen--black-blog @thecraziestcrayon @cherry-cin @itsinherited @justafictionalnerd @bookishbroadwaybish @405rry @itsinherited @w0nderw0manly

#rhys acotar #rhysand/reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #rhysand x reader #acotar hockey au #over ice #hockey!bat boys #hockey!rhysand

148 notes · View notes

sarahroutldge · 9 hours ago

Text

i love you, i'm sorry.

a/n: requested based on a prompt list - the dialogue prompt is in bold! gif not mine, all credits to the creator (also the title has nothing to do with the song, it was just stuck in my head lol)

pairing: jj maybank x reader

summary: you and jj maybank drunkenly hooked up a few nights ago, and neither of you know how to deal with that. (routledge!reader)

word count: 3k

warnings: fluff/humor, angst w/ a happy ending, implied sexual content, drinking, semi-proofread, I think that's it

John Booker Routledge never thought he’d actually have to tell his best friend JJ Maybank that his little sister was off limits. Not once did it ever occur to him that JJ would ever think of you in a different way; he hardly liked to consider the idea that you dated anyone in the first place, let alone that you’d express any interest in the man he knew inside-and-out.

But things change and people get older. After you and the rest of the Pogues found El Dorado and began construction on Poguelandia, JJ started to see you differently. Sure, he always found you attractive, but JJ also found every woman he encountered attractive, so he never thought much of it.

And you certainly didn’t ever think of JJ in that way either. At heart, you were a relationship girl; and while the fact that you were single was proof enough that no relationship of yours had worked out in the past, one of your greatest strengths was that you knew what you wanted. You didn’t seek out something casual because you knew you’d be left unfulfilled. You wanted something all-consuming and destined for marriage. Seeing your older brother grow and mature in his relationship with Sarah Cameron only clarified that further. In your mind, if the second-most relationship-allergic person you knew (after JJ of course) was able to dive headfirst into marriage with a girl so remarkably different from himself, then you decided you wouldn’t settle for any less.

Feelings, however, have a funny way of messing with plans and expectations. While JJ had essentially lived with you and your brother for years, building Poguelandia only pushed the two of you even further together. And watching someone so unpredictable and chaotic as JJ tame himself for the sake of his friends and his future stirred something in you that you hadn’t been expecting at all.

Over the months, your interactions with JJ changed, little by little, and for a while neither of you noticed. It just grew natural for JJ to fix something in the bait shop that you were fussing over, or for you to bring JJ a sandwich or a snack while he worked. You found little ways to make the other’s day brighter, even if subconsciously you never even considered why you were doing these little favors in the first place.

What actually brought the two of you together wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, however. One night, after a long day of work on the house, the Pogues found themselves hanging out above the bait shop, buzzed off of beers, seltzers, and a few joints made of flower grown right from Kiara’s secret spot in the garden. And while the rest of the Pogues eventually found their ways inside and to sleep, JJ and you probably drank a bit too much. One thing led to another, and that was the first night you hooked up. It was slow, passionate, and clumsy, and while the both of you would later blame it on the alcohol and the weed, deep inside you were both fully aware that it was simply the end result of months of pining.

And that’s how you found yourself waking up on the hammock above the bait shop in only one of JJ’s t-shirts and a pair of underwear. The combination of the blinding North Carolina sunrise along with John B.’s extremely loud footsteps on the floor below practically forced your eyes open. While you play the night before over in your head, trying to piece it all together, you’re scrambling to get the rest of your clothes on.

Running downstairs with your shoes untied, you let out a huge “oof” as you collide with your brother, almost sending the two of you to the ground.

“Good morning to you, too, sis,” John B. says, his eyes expressing his confusion at the fact that you obviously slept upstairs last night.

“Oh, um, sorry, JB, I guess I just drank too much last night and crashed on the hammock,” you practically vomit out.

“Riiiiight,” John B. responds, clearly not convinced but nonetheless wholly uninterested in this situation in the first place. “Just, uh, go shower. You stink.”

Assuming John B.’s comment is a joke, you let out a laugh that immediately sounds forced. “Yeah, uh, that’s what I planned on.”

John B. shoots you a thumbs-up before making his way behind the counter, clearly prepping to open the bait shop for customers. Deciding to avoid any more awkwardness between the two of you, you begin to make your way back to the house. However, your brain can’t help but consider the possibility that only more awkwardness awaits you back in the house, which you’re really not ready to process. You spin around to face John B. at the entrance to the bait shop. “Hey, uh, is JJ up?”

John B. doesn’t even look up from whatever he’s doing at the counter, clearly focused on something else. “Yeah, he took his bike to the grocery store about ten minutes ago, I think.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, and then turn back around to make your way into the house. Occupied with trying to wrack your brain about what exactly happened last night, you again stumble into someone else as you walk through the kitchen.

“Ow,” Sarah squeaks.

You immediately apologize, looking her in the eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just, uh, didn’t sleep well last night,” you explain, hoping she’ll move out of the way so you can make your way to your bedroom upstairs.

But Sarah, unfortunately, has the attention to detail that your brother lacks. Looking you in the eyes, her brows furrow. “Did you sleep outside last night?”

You scratch your head. “Uh, yeah. Just, uh, crashed after all those drinks, you know?”

One thing that Sarah does share with your brother, however, is her unwillingness to let things go. Clearly noticing that something is on your mind, her eyes stare into yours, as if she thinks that she can figure out everything about you based on your facial expressions alone. And evidently, she can, because she then proceeds to whisper-yell, “Y/N, is that a hickey?”

She lightly taps a new bruise on your neck that JJ must have left last night, and you can feel your cheeks heat up at the action. You bat her hand away, and she smirks when she realizes what you must be hiding.

“I don’t have time for this,” you blurt out, before maneuvering yourself around Sarah and walking over to the bottom of the stairs.

“Whatever you say,” she taunts behind you, and you can practically hear her giggle as you make your way up the steps.

Once you get to your bedroom, you lock the door behind you. Sliding down the wall, you let out a sigh, grateful that you met no more obstacles on the way upstairs. But as soon as your butt hits the ground, reality comes crashing down, and you realize that you have a much harder obstacle to deal with than running into one of your friends in the hallway. Instead, you have to deal with the fact that you slept with JJ Maybank—the man you’ve known practically your entire life who not only happens to be one of your closest friends, but even more than that, is your brother’s best friend. Yeah, you’re screwed.

For the next few days, JJ avoided you at all costs. He didn’t want to face the consequences of what you’d done, and was worried more than anything that his friendship with you (and John B. for that matter) would be ruined. And while you had the same idea for a while, within only a few days you decided that talking about it was the only way to move forward. Knowing JJ’s extensive dating history, you were convinced that JJ would only tell you that it was a mistake and a regret. You prepared herself for the negative, and found him alone at night in the employees-only area above the tackle and bait shop.

You carefully tiptoe up the stairs to prevent JJ from getting spooked and immediately bailing on the conversation. When he notices your presence, he shoots up from where he was laying on the hammock, just like you had anticipated. “JJ, we need to talk—”

“Y/N—”

“No, please, JJ, just let me speak,” you clarify, before walking closer to him.

Realizing he doesn’t have any other choice, JJ sighs, gesturing for her to continue.

Working up the nerves, you wring your hands, preparing yourself for a moment that seemed more daunting than any of the actually threatening experiences you’d had with the Pogues over the last few years. “You know me, Jayj. You know that I don’t have one-night stands or casual relationships. And I can’t go on like this, pretending like what happened between us is normal or that I can just ignore it. I know that you’ve probably never had feelings for me, but if I don’t tell you this now, I’ll regret it. I… I like you, JJ.” Taking a breath, you step back, feeling like a weight has been lifted off of your chest. Only now, you have to brace yourself for the inevitable rejection.

Looking into JJ’s eyes, you can’t tell what he’s thinking, and that’s nothing short of terrifying. You’ve known JJ since he was a kid, and he’s not the best liar, so you can usually tell what he’s feeling from the moment you see him. But this time, you’re clueless, and the silence is deafening.

“JJ, please say something. If you’re going to tell me you don’t like me back, then just say it so we can move on and put this behind us.”

He brings his hands to his face, trying to piece the words together. “Just, uh, gimme a minute.” You nod at him, before moving to sit where he’d previously sat on the hammock. You swing your knees up to your chest, hugging them in comfort.

You watch as he paces the floor around you. It’s not long before he speaks, but it feels like hours as you wait.

“Y/N, I… We’ve been friends forever. You, me, and John B. It was the three of us for the longest time and then Pope came and then Kiara and… Uh, I’m getting off track.” He starts fidgeting with the ring on his thumb as he looks down at the ground, preparing for what he’s about to say next. “I won’t lie—you’ve always been hot. Like super fucking hot. And I’m not good at relationships or whatever, but I… I like you, too.”

And your ears can’t believe what they’re hearing, so your head immediately jerks up to meet his eyes. “Wait… you do?”

He nods, and you can feel a smile beginning to form on your face. “Well, then, why didn’t you just say that?” you ask.

“Because it doesn’t matter,” JJ answers, and your heart immediately sinks in your chest, once again. “I can’t do this to John B., Y/N. I just can’t.”

“Who cares about him? He’ll get over it. John B. is not my problem.”

“That’s the point, Y/N! He��ll be there for you no matter what. But the Pogues are basically all I have left. You and John B. are my family, and if I mess shit up with you, I’ll lose you both. And I can’t do that to myself.”

“You won’t mess it up, J,” you reassure, though part of you understands what he’s getting at.

“When have I not messed something up? I mess shit up all the time, and you mean too much to me for me to risk it. You need to go and find someone out there better than me, because as much as it’ll hurt me to see you with someone else, it’d be a lot worse if you were in pain and I was the reason. It’s because I’m in love with you that I wish we’d never done what we did,” he blurts out.

And while you were trying your best to listen to him carefully, all you heard was him telling you that he’s in love with you. “You… You love me?” you whisper, and JJ’s eyes go back to the floor.

“Of course I fucking do! How could I not? You’re gorgeous and funny and weird and you know me better than anyone else, and I’ll never forgive myself if I ruin shit with you. So just let me go, because this is the hardest thing I’ve had to do.”

As you process what JJ says, he rushes down the stairs. The heavy pattern of his boots hitting the wooden floors grabs your attention again, and you sprint downstairs to meet him before he can run away completely. You grab his hand and pull him towards you. When his head moves, you can see tears in his eyes, even as the sky gets darker. “It’s not okay to just leave me here after telling me you love me back,” you choke out.

“We can’t—we’ll never be together,” he bites back, trying to sound angry. But you can read right through him, and he knows it. You drop his arm and reach up to grab his face with your hands. Your thumb wipes away a stray tear.

“JJ, you’re right: I do know you better than anyone else. And yes, you’re not the best at relationships. But don’t you think that with us it could be different? That maybe because we know each other so well we can figure it out together?”

He begins to shake his head, but before he can get any more words out, you continue. “JJ, I know everything about you. I know the worst things you’ve done and the best things. You’re always calling me a know-it-all, and yet right now you don’t seem to believe me when I tell you that I know we can do this. We can do it, and it’ll be hard, but it’ll be worth it because I can’t picture myself loving anyone else the way I love you.” And as the tears stream down your cheeks, JJ inches a bit closer to you.

“You… You love me?”

“Of course I do, you idiot. How could I not? You’re the sweetest, kindest, funniest, bravest person I know and my life would be so unbelievably boring if you weren’t in it.”

His eyes look all over your face, trying to see if he can detect a lie. But all he sees is someone so convinced in their feelings, so articulate, and he can’t believe that it’s possible but he might just love you more than he did five minutes ago.

“Let me deal with John B., okay? I get why you’re scared and I would never want to come between the two of you, but you deserve to be loved, JJ. And I want to be the one who gets to love you.”

As soon as you get the words out, he’s pressing his lips to yours, and you’re so glad he reached out to hold your waist because otherwise you’d be falling to your knees. It’s magical and romantic and you can taste the salty years you’ve both shed. His right hand moves to grab the side of your face and pull you even closer somehow, before moving back down to your waist and squeezing you in anticipation. The two of you break away, panting. He grips you again and gestures for you to jump, which you do, and you wrap your legs around his back. He carries you over to the counter of the bait shop, where he sets you down. Your legs squeeze his, and he grabs ahold of your face with his hands. “Before we um… do anything else… Are you sure?”

You nod immediately. “Babe, I need the words.”

Your heart clenches at the term of affection, and you pull his shirt to bring him even closer to you. “I am absolutely, positively sure that I love you, JJ Maybank.” He grins so wide you start giggling.

He smashes his mouth back to yours, and this time the kiss is hotter and needier. It’s just a mess of clashing teeth, lips, and hands, with little “I love yous” whispered in between.

JJ tugs on the bottom of your shirt, and you break away so that he can lift it off, throwing it somewhere else in the shop. His shirt follows, but before he can unclasp your bra, you push him back. “JJ, I’m not fucking you in the bait shop.”

“It’s dark out and no one’s gonna see—”

You jump down from the counter. “It’s either in the house or in the Twinkie. Your choice,” you challenge, and he rolls his eyes.

“Oh come on, people do it all the time,” he justifies, and you look at him like he’s grown two heads.

“What on earth are you talking about?” you ask.

“Hooking up in the bait shop, duh. I caught Pope and Cleo on top of the freezer once, and I’m pretty sure I saw Kiara making out with her ex-girlfriend behind the counter.”

You roll your eyes. “You are literally proving my point,” you say, and he scratches his head.

“Well, I know for a fact that John B. and Sarah hooked up in the bait shop once and I didn’t see anything!” he explains.

“That’s not any better! You’re talking about my brother!” you whine, and JJ starts to see that you’re not budging.

He lifts you up bridal-style into his arms, and you squeal. “Fine, my lady, my room it is.”

You wrap your arms around his neck. “Have you cleaned it recently?” you ask, knowing how messy his room gets.

“Uh… Like, maybe not super recently. But I can make it nice,” he offers.

You squint. “As nice as my room?”

“Yeah, let’s just go to yours,” he says, and you giggle at how easily he gives in. As he walks down the talk, carrying you in his arms, you can see a smirk grow on his face. “But after we’re done, it’ll be as dirty as mine.”

“JJ!”

so... what did y'all think? I might consider making a part two where john b. finds out. is that something y'all would be interested in??

also... feedback is very much appreciated - pls comment, reblog, send asks, etc.!

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank angst #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank reader insert #jj maybank x routledge!reader #routledge!reader #obx fanfiction #obx x reader #my writing

78 notes · View notes

creativepot4to · 2 days ago

Text

Circus AU!!

Been using @oodliedoodlies tutorial for my drawings recently!!! (Thanks for the tut pooks <3)

Also this drawing plus AU, it’s a VivaDory AU, I fell down a rabbit hole of Oodliedoolies’ VivaDory fanart and I knew I had to indulge and make my own hehe (I will post them soon dw)

Interested in knowing what my AU is about? I will yap just below!

Instead of being a band Brozone is a family travelling circus, passed down generation to generation. When the boys parents died they were left in the care of their aging Grandmother, she helped for the most part but due to her age John Dory had to do most of the heavy lifting.

He put a pause on their circus believing that moving around so much when their parents only just died would be too much for his younger brothers and had to work a few odd jobs to keep them afloat.

Once they were all old enough they decided to bring back the circus! John is a bit uptight constantly worried that something could go wrong and he could loose someone else, does he talk about this with anyone? Of course not! It’s John Dory, what do you expect?

Brozone travels from town to town, but everytime they arrive another travelling circus has taken the best spots and everytime it’s the same circus.

Viva and Poppy make up the two woman travelling circus. They’re a new circus managed by their dad and are heavily popular.

Peppy often cares more about business so Viva took it upon herself to be the parent figure in her little sisters life.

The two circus battling for the best business quickly escalates into a full on rivalry. As the two circus’s battle to be the best

And obviously Viva and John bond over their eldest daughter syndrome in this somewhat “forbidden” love, rivals to lovers au!!

65 notes · View notes

sk-touchthesun · 23 hours ago

Text

It has been a bit over a month since the first time I watched Dead Boy Detectives and I now have watched it from start to finish four times. Oops. I don't know how that happened—I certainly wasn't prepared for this level of love for a series.

Since I haven't really been in any fandoms or tumblr in, like... ten years or whatever, I wanted to write about why I fell in love with Dead Boy Detectives when I saw the series for the first time. I don't know if anyone's interested in reading a long-ish post, but in case you are, buckle up because this is going to be pure love and positivity from start to finish. It's mainly about Edwin and Charles, though.

I started watching the show without any background information and never having seen the Sandman either. I rotate streaming services and it was Netflix's turn. I read queer fiction quite a lot and watch queer movies and series as a hobby, and remembered someone mentioning Dead Boy Detectives.

The beginning on the series was intriguing enough already, but it was during this scene that I knew I was going to watch the entire thing:

This leads me to the reason I love the series so much: the carrying force of the story is the love Edwin and Charles have for each other, be it platonic or romantic. I'm a sucker for themes like found family and being loved as your authentic self because that's something I crave. I have always been more or less lonely because of social anxiety and struggling with social situations. Perhaps that's why stories containing those themes have such a profound effect on me each time.

Of course, the way the series combines elements of horror and comedy with heartwarming and wholesome sweetness is delightfully refreshing in itself. Dead Boy Detectives kept me glued to the screen so that I finished it in a day the first time I watched it. However, the characters are what makes the show so brilliant. I think the cast in general is phenomenal, but it's the love between Edwin and Charles that I felt most while watching.

This obviously is where I have to praise George Rexstrew and Jayden Revri for their acting. I think it's largely thanks to them that I love Edwin and Charles so much. Their characters' chemistry and the fond way Edwin and Charles interact with each other in the series is something I felt viscerally right from the beginning. It's obviously ingrained in the overall plot, but the love can also be felt in the smallest gestures. How many shows do you have where your favorite character dying is one of your favorite moments in the series because it's so sweet? (I'm sure you can deduce my favorite character from this...)

Personally, I also think that George Rexstrew and Jayden Revri's acting is particularly spellbinding during the moments their characters break down and show raw emotion. In an odd way the characters' suffering is what makes episodes like The Case of the Devlin House and The Case of the Very Long Stairway so brilliant. The characters' emotions during their most vulnerable moments are so tangible.

I know there has been talk about how season two would look like if the series was revived, and honestly, I think there's one crucial thing that should be kept as it is or the entire thing would be ruined: the carrying force of the show being that Edwin and Charles are willing to do anything to not to get separated.

I can't see any universe where someone becomes more important to the two main characters than what they're to each other. Charles says that Edwin is the only person he'd go to Hell for. We know how Edwin feels. The love is there already. If either of them had a long-lasting romance with someone else, the love interest would get two with the price of one. Equally important? Well—possibly. Love isn't finite. More important? Never.

I'd like to see Edwin and Charles get together, though. They're like an old married couple already and I can't imagine them being together with anyone else in the long run. At least the first season left things open enough for interpretation, with the cancellation and all.

Last but not least, it's a bit crazy that I only saw the show for the first time a bit over a month ago and was ready to splurge on a cameo. It was my birthday during the gameoden week and I got a birthday message! It was very sweet and has cheered me up ever since. I'm not sharing it here because I feel it's a bit personal with my birthday and all, but I loved it.

In case you ended up reading all this, thanks for reading my love letter for the show and the characters and the actors!

#dead boy detectives #dbda #save dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #george rexstrew #jayden revri #this series has me in a chokehold

42 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 days ago

Note

Hello, Miss Raven!

I hope you are having a nice day ^^

I was wondering since you don't have a Yuusona, have you ever thought making your own Yuusona like what traits, gender and personality would you have for them?

And how would their relationship be with Miss Raven would they be friends?

Sorry if I'm asking something you don't feel comfortable answering just feel free to ignore it. I'm enjoying your work and I'm new here so I hope I wasn't a bother! Love your work 🫶

I’ve thought about making a Yuu of my own on more than one occasion. However, I’ve never been a fan of the roles designated for self-inserts… It’s hard to commit. Even if I were to make my Yuu less of a Yuusona (ie just Me but in the Twst world) and more of an OC (an entity totally separate from myself), I always lose motivation somewhere along the way.

That’s of course not to disparage anyone who has a Yuu though!! I just personally find it a struggle to design around a somewhat predetermined identity. There’s less freedom in a Yuu because they have to meet certain parameters in order to “make sense” in the story. For example, Yuus are generally from our ordinary world and magicless. I don’t like having those limitations (and though I could go against it, I’d refrain in order to not break canon lore). That’s why my first Twst OC is very far removed and exists as her own thing.

For fun, here’s some of my scraped Yuu concepts, including doodles. They're not really "Yuusonas" though, more like original characters that happen to be filing in for Yuu:

Yuu 1: Mad Scientist Yuu

The earliest iteration.

This Yuu is ~16, male. Considered nonbinary at one point too.

The notes in the image basically describe him. Germaphobe, has lots of band-aids (because he is accident-prone), constantly tired + has dark undereye circles due to excess stress and lack of sleep.

Frequently seen in face mask, lab coat, and latex gloves.

“Don’t bother me” energy. Very curt with people and just wants to be left alone.

Claims to be an egalitarian because he “hates everyone equally”.

As the story went on, he would have learned to lighten up and work with others too. Basically, the same arc the NRC students have.

I didn't think too deeply about what his relationship with Miss Raven would be like... Most likely, he just dislikes and avoids her like he does the rest of the NRC population.

Yuu 2: “Robert Philip the Divorce Lawyer” Yuu

Twisted from the divorce lawyer love interest in Enchanted 😭 YES, I SAID WHAt i SAiD…

This Yuu is 35ish, male.

Has a very girly young daughter back home. She is basically his motivation to return.

His ex-wife left him. (YES I AM KEEPING THIS LORE.) Has sworn off love since then but is dating another woman for practical reasons.

Very anti-romance and anti-fairy tales.

Somewhat grumpy.

Logical, pragmatic. Some would say calculating.

Constantly arguing with Crowley because he knows his rights and how many laws Crowley is violating/j

He wouldn’t have been a student but more like a faculty member and father figure to the NRC students. By being in Twisted Wonderland, he helps to mentor the boys as though they were his own children, and the boys in turn teach him about magic, imagination, and believing even in seemingly impossible things.

Had an idea about him finding true love in Twisted Wonderland too; this would basically be his Giselle. Maybe a kind lady from Foothill Town??

Robert!Yuu was going to be sort of a secondary father figure to Miss Raven. Crowley is her real guardian, but he's usually not fulfilling the typical duties of a guardian so Robert!Yuu has to step up. In a lot of ways, Miss Raven reminds him of an older version of his own daughter so he has a soft spot for her. He also tries his best to advise her on life and boys. I imagine that he and Miss Raven have that Hades and Megara scene where she's gushing about Hercules and Hades goes, "Please. HE'S A GUY!!"

Yuus 3 and 4: Twin Yuus

The bangs they have are borrowed from Robert!Yuu because I liked them and was too lazy to try something new out—

They’re brother and sister, both 17. I wanted to play around with the concept of multiple Yuus in Twisted Wonderland at the same time. Twins because they are supposed to be “a mirror image” of the other.

The theme these two would explore is gender, particularly expectations vs reality.

They come from an old money family; each twin has very traditionally gendered expectations placed on them but their secret is they swap places and pretend to be the other twin so as to get out of their own responsibilities, as the girl is tomboyish and the boy is more feminine.

They continue this act in Twisted Wonderland in order to "protect" one another, but their relationship becomes strained with each OB. For example, the male twin would become increasing protective, feeling like it is his responsibility to keep his sister safe. This would earn him his sister's ire since he never smothered her before. The twins would eventually reconcile and come to reach a middle ground regarding one another's expression of their gender and how that informs their behavior toward one another.

In another variation, only the male-presenting twin would be isekai'd to Twisted Wonderland. It would later be revealed that "he" is actually a "she". The explanation that she provides for acting masculine is to rebel against the expectations of her family (who had arranged a marriage for her prior to her being isekai'd).

... But then there's ANOTHER twist 🤡 and it turns out that her "masculine self" closely resembles her actual twin brother (who is now deceased). The idea is that she partly acts this way as a trauma response and relies a lot on "speaking" with her brother for advice on how to move forward in Twisted Wonderland. Like, she has pretend conversations with him in her head.

Her character arc would have been centered around detaching herself from the expectations placed on her, as well as learning to let her brother go and become her own person.

ASDSBDABSDOSA I feel like Miss Raven would be so confused trying to keep track of the twins and/or the single twin's dramatic backstory. She'd be pretty cordial with them though! Maybe even tries to counsel them when they're fighting or closed off from others.

Yuu 5: Ara Ara Onee-san Yuu (WIP name is Sumire -> Suu -> her variation of “Yuu”, lol)

The best designed one, probably.

The only one with a proper name, too :v

She's 18 and female!

Started off as a joke between me and a friend. We were talking about how we think many of the first year students would be into "onee-san" types.

As you may or may not be able to tell by the design, she's meant to be a caring big sister character. Sweet, patient, and motherly. Even gardens and bakes! The type you know you can always go to when you need advice or comforting.

YEAH I GAVE HER DEAD ANIME MOM HAIR, SO WHAT???? The bangs swooping over one side of her face gives her sort of a mysterious air!

She looks very kind (and that's because she is), but she is also very air-headed. Like she'll pick up a worm and hold it in your face and ask you if you think it's cute.

Has a secret sadistic side. Not malicious and won't go out of her way to cause problems, but she'll gush about how she thinks you being frustrated or struggling with a task is "cute".

The arc Sumire would go on is one revolving around her status as the "older sister" of the group and finding a "pure" way of loving her friends. There's nothing wrong with having that role, but her issue is that she relies on it to be her personality and often gives away too much of herself at the cost of her own mental and emotional wellbeing.

It's like... codependency. She loves you because (whether she knows it or not) she NEEDS validation from others. And because she wants that validation so much, she forces herself to be someone she's not at her core. Someone agreeable and sweet. That becomes very taxing for her.

If she feels as though someone is going to leave her, she'll either love bomb or have a mental breakdown in private. TO BE CLEAR, this is not healthy behavior and she's supposed to grow out of this obsessiveness over the course of the main story.

By that logic, she's more manipulative and selfish than she seems at a glance. I guess you could describe her true personality as being yandere or even menhara?? But she usually masks it well.

Miss Raven has a history of falling for pretty smiles, so I think she'd also be a victim of this one. She would look up to Sumire as like "the peak lady" and the big sis she's always wanted. REALLY feeding into her secret ego there, Miss Raven... and Sumire, being herself, would just giggle and pat her on the head to keep that toxic relationship going.

#disney twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #Yuu #twisted wonderland oc #Raven Crowley #notes from the writing raven #question #Hades #Megara #Enchanted #Robert Philip

33 notes · View notes

mangohgeckoh · 1 day ago

Text

Chemical Reaction (SilcoxOc!reader)

Chapter 2

“The Good Ole Times”

(Part 3 of 3)

Vander and Silco were not surprised to see their close friend singing on the counter of the bar, no, it was when a cloak was chucked at them from across the bar. “OuR LoVE~” Felicia’s drunk voice rang throughout the bar. The cape slowly fell off the brother’s faces to reveal an interesting sight: the newest addition to their ally list was also hammered, laying on the bar next to the dancing woman.

“‘Atta girl!” Vander boomed. Even though he was caked in coal and soot he had no issue sprinting across the bar to indulge in some late night-debauchery. Silco stood feeling a headache coming on as he watched helplessly as his friends got drunk on the bar’s already limited stock. “IS a BuRniNG foUntaiNN~” Felcia’s heavily hammered singing continued, Vander only supported as a backup singer. Ophelia laughed at Vander’s singing voice and turned her head as her neck started to get stiff on the wooden counter. Her eyes met Silco’s, but her drunk demeanor made her smile at him, thinking his scowl was the most funniest thing in Runeterra.

–

As months passed, the four of the trencher’s relationships grew. Ophelia grew comfortable with bar-friends so much so that she allowed her friends from camp to tag along for a few evenings. Of course, those not of age were not allowed to drink. The boy she had picked up from the streets months prior became particularly attached to one of the regulars at the bar, a young man named Benzo. The boy with white hair was always sitting on the countertop near where Benzo was. He often tried showing Benzo his new trinkets that he’d make from scrap metal. They were crude, yes, but there was a brilliance tied to them. Ophelia kept an eye on the young man with the boy he rescued, but it was when the boy shared his name with Benzo, a feat that Ophelia nor her camp friends could obtain, that she realized he had found a home.

It wasn’t easy letting Ekko go with Benzo, but the more she became acquainted with him the more she saw their father-son bond grow. She felt honored that she was able to help Ekko find a new home.

It had been a year now since the two families had intertwined. A tradition had well been solidified by now, every Monday, Friday and Sunday Ophelia would leave for The Last Drop to meet up with Vander, Felicia and Silco. Benzo and Ekko would always leave earlier, Benzo would argue it was because Ekko had a bedtime, but since Benzo was the oldest, Vander had always joked that it’s because he is getting old. Unless Ophelia brought anyone with her, it was just the four at the bar.

The Last Drop increased in popularity as time went on. Vander would become better at mixing drinks, allowing for more orders and money into the bar. Though, it was on the rare occasion that one of the late nights that Ophelia visited would be slow. Those were her favorite as it allowed more time for talking. Vander knew her long enough that he would eventually let her in on his real plans. “Sure, having a bar where Zaunites could mingle is great,” He’d say. “But I want to show Topsiders what true community can be.” He’d speak with such passionate vigor that Ophelia would be drawn in. Silco, who was always quiet during her visits, only talked the most when the subject of Zaun was brought into conversation.

One night, Felicia was working late at the mines while Vander and Ophelia had been talking about this Nation of Zaun when a few patrons came in, leaving Silco and Ophelia at a table on the side of the bar. This was the first time Ophelia ever heard Silco talk freely without being prompted to start a conversation. He shared indepth plans of Zaun. His Zaun. The plans were more ambitious than Vanders but nonetheless aligned. The way Silco spoke about his dreams was so encapsulating. It was like being told a beautiful fairytale, she couldn’t help but rest her chin on her palms while he pointed at a map of the Undercity. He had just finished his rant about the difficulty of crossing the bridge Piltover had built when Ophelia pointed to something on the map. “Don’t those gutters lead out to the Topside's sewers? It isn’t ideal but that may help to get a lay of the land.”

He bit his lip. “Gutters?” Ophelia was across the table so she went to stand next to Silco to make sure she was remembering the location right. She nodded, “Yes, I used to use these to get into the markets. The sewers are a network under the city.” Silco’s eyes sparkled. “I see…” He was silent the rest of the night, making Ophelia focus on Vander’s gang brawl stories.

Silco’s chest puffed up at her gasp. “Brilliant.” Ophelia’s ears were honed in on Silco’s newest contraption he had placed on their table. He and his brother had gotten into an argument that, from what she gathered, was about a dispute about Piltover. Across the room, Vander and Felicia were conversing at the bar.

It was a special night. Vander had reached enough patrons exactly a month ago to be able to quit his job at the mines while Silco had finally mapped out Piltover’s secret entrances from the gutters Ophelia mentioned weeks prior. It was a night to celebrate, Vander closed the bar early, of course to the annoyance of his many regulars. Ophelia sat a few seats away from Silco at the bar, despite it being a special occasion he was consumed in paperwork that we would rather die than putting off. There was one more missing though, but she wasn’t gone for long.

“I hate the mines!” Vander, Silco and Ophelia turned to see Felicia groaning, slamming the door. Usually she strides on up to the bar to get hammered but this time she was attracted to Vander’s shiny new jukebox. Ophelia giggled and turned back to the counter she sat at, taking a sip of her whiskey. She was way past being comfortable with drinking.

Her ears twitched.

‘Coin.’

‘Disk moving.’

Soon a familiar song started to play from behind them, making Ophelia groan due to the drunken memories associated with the song. Though, she did noticed Vander’s eyes lingering on Felicia. “What’s the occasion?” He asked while cleaning a glass from earlier. Felicia chuckled. “Can’t a girl be in the mood for a familiar song?” Silco was still focused on his work as Vander responded. “Not this lady,” The towel he had used to clean the cup returned to his shoulder. “And not this song.” He pointed out. Ophelia giggled and watched Felicia dance her way over to the bar. Vander quickly poured four glasses-worth of the most expensive liquor he sold.

Felicia sat at the bar, joining her friends. Taking a breath, she began. “Tonight, a hair-brained scheme these three bozos cooked up to turn a daint crack in the earth into a thriving healthy community became a reality.”

Vander smirked, eyes twinkling. “Tonight, aye?” He adjusted his position behind the bar, shooting Silco a look. “You hear that, bozo two?” Silco took a spoonful of porridge, turning to Vander. ”We made it, we’re done.”

“No,” Silco shook his head, grabbing his glass. “You're sadly mistaken,” He grinned at his friends. “I’m bozo number one.”

Vander raised his glass, proud of their accomplishments. “A night of revelations.” The friends toasted to that, but something was wrong. Ophelia could sense it.

Felicia didn’t drink when her friends did, rather, she squeezed her cup nervously. “I’m knocked up.” There was a long awkward silence that dawned over them. Ophelia cut the tension as Vnader and Silco processed the news. “How?”

Felicia scoffed, giving Ophelia an aggravated look. “Well when two trenchers love eachother very much…” Ophelia rolled her eyes but Vander finally regained himself. “How do you know?” He asked, pouring Felicia a cup of juice, replacing her old glass. Silco readjusted himself so he could sit closer to comfort his friend.

Sighing, she responded. “Wasn't really part of my plan��but guess that's everything when you're living week to week” Ophelia nodded solemnly. It was tough living in the Undercity, everyone is constantly trying to survive another day. Vander began to look concerned. “What did Connol say?”

A shade of guilt covered her face. “I haven’t told him.” Ophelia could tell that her friend was struggling, she couldn’t imagine what Felicia was going through. ”Working up the nerve.” Felicia continued on.“I don't know anything about kids. I get sweaty being alone with one” Her eyes looked as if they could start crying at any moment. Sensing this, Vander held her hand. “Hey. You're going to be a great mother.”

She shook out of his grasp. “Shut up. I’m not ready for that. I started trying to come up with a name and it hits me that this one word is a decision shes gonna live with her whole life.” She sighed. “I can't protect her all the shit down here and work out how to be a parent at the same time.” Suddenly, a vixen-like smirk grew from her mouth. “Then I realized I don't have to.”

“Hm,” Vander took a sip of his whiskey. “Why’s that?”

She leaned in as if she was about to tell a secret. “Because the second I told you, I put you on the hook.” Ophelia exchanged looks with Silco, Vander gulped. “You three are going to figure this Zaun thing out.” Silco gave her a look of awe as she explained. “I don’t care if you have to carve it out of bedrock and cover it in blisters.” She pointed at her friends, giving them a light threat. Ophelia felt something boil within her with how Silco looked at his friend. But she decided to push it away, her friend’s needs were more important.“ You're not allowed to fail anymore. For her. For me.” Felicia finished, narrowing her eyes at Vander who nodded. “What's the point if we can't raise an ankle biter or two?”

Silco chuckled. “To Zaun, then.” He raised his glass and met Ophelia’s eyes. “Blisters and bedrock.” The other three raised their glasses and toasted. “Blisters and bedrock.” After taking a drink, the bar became quiet again. Until Vander hummed. “I’ve always liked the name violet.”

#arcane #arcane fandom #silco arcane #silco #fanfic #silco fanfic #silco x oc #silco x reader #arcane vander #arcane felicia #arcane benzo #arcane ekko

32 notes · View notes

rey-jake-therapist · 4 hours ago

Text

Why is it so hard to understand that Sauron being the villain and downright evil is precisely what makes Saurondriel a fun and interesting ship to play with ?? I mean it's so amusing to see people clutching their pearls over the fact that many viewers (women mostly) find this dynamic attractive, as if the point of shipping was not often to have FUN playing dolls with fictional characters who if they existed in real life, would have no business being together. Unlike real life toxic relationships, the fictional ones are HARMLESS. Unless you can't dissociate fiction and reality and don't see that Galadriel is a fictional character, there's nothing harmful in shipping her with anyone else than her husband.

I'm not sorry to say I don't see why I should ship Galadriel with her currently dead husband, while Galadriel herself doesn't seem to give a shit about him at all (in the show). Seeing some people bemused that no more fans ship her with Celeborn as if a relationship being canon made it automatically fun to ship is a bit funny, to say the least.

I don't see any fun in imagining scenarios where they live their very normal marital life, raise their very normal kid and sometimes have dinners with their very normal family. Why don't more people ship Galadriel and Celeborn ? Because it's boring that's why. I see boring married people everyday in real life already, my own marital life was mostly boring as well (except when my ex decided it was "put you down for no reason" day.... I preferred the boring days), why the hell would I care for fictional boring married people ?

Don't get me wrong, It doesn't mean that I don't want Galadriel to have this life ! I want her to be happy, of course, but see what's great with Saurondriel is that I KNOW that it will never be a threat to Galadriel's life with Celeborn. I KNOW that he'll come back at some point, I KNOW that she'll have this peaceful marital life, and us shipping Galadriel and Sauron will never change that because it's already written.

#haladriel #saurondriel #galadriel #sauron #sauron x galadriel #galadriel x halbrand #Shipping discourse #Shipping wank

30 notes · View notes

certainempatheticturkeymuffin · 12 hours ago

Text

Saw a post about Mushang and it's similarities to Liushen, then thought about how interesting it would be to have those in the same fic — then I went down a rabbit hole that included Mobing and Gongzhi (for some reason?)

so... here's this plotbunny, it's really fucking long though, sorry!

(oops, it posted before I finished, sorry about that, it's fixed now!)

Shang Qinghua knew, theoretically, that his death would be at the hands of Mobei-jun. He knew that when he saved him, he knew that all these years of serving him, but... it's finally sunk in. That Mobei-jun is going to kill him. That the bruises and frostbite and broken bones are all leading up to his death. He wraps another cut and thinks, somewhat deliriously... that maybe he should've killed Mobei-jun on that mission.

Shen Qingqiu knew his fate — the fate of the Scum Villain. He knew that any goodwill he'd built up was destroyed the moment he pushed Luo Binghe into the Abyss. Knows that all those years of treating him well, only to betray him, may have actually made the situation worse. He thinks back on that day, suddenly realizing that he probably could've made it look like an accident — he could've had Binghe "accidentally" pushed into the Abyss during the chaos, could've faked a Without-A-Cure flare up to excuse his lack of rescue. Maybe, if he'd done that, Binghe would've had mercy.

Their weekly meetings become stilted, their tea goes cold, their snacks uneaten. They don't argue about Airplane's terrible writing, they don't even reminisce over AC or the internet. The air is filled with unease, polluting each of their peaks... until they both snap. They confide in each other, cursing the System, cursing their choices, and try to plan — to dig themselves out of these holes they've dug. The clock is ticking for Binghe's return. Shang Qinghua's wounds are getting worse — he doesn't know if his death will be expedited or delayed at this rate.

And so, they argue and plan and eventually come to a few conclusions...

Shang Qinghua needs the protection of the sect. Needs to confess and beg for Yue Qingyuan's protection as he abandons Mobei-jun. Needs the protection of someone Mobei-jun had no chance of defeating.

Shen Qingqiu, likewise, needs protection — but it's written that Luo Binghe cannot lose, not to anyone in the sect... no one, except for Liu Qingge, who didn't live long enough to fight him, who didn't have a single canonical fight for the world to measure him against. The War God. The one person that wasn't bound by the narrative.

They decide to deal with Shang Qinghua first — Binghe isn't scheduled to leave the Abyss for years, after all. Mobei-jun, however, is a current threat. Every meeting leaves Shang Qinghua with more and more injuries, injuries that the original goods never had to deal with. They don't know if this Mobei-jun is going to follow PIDW's timeline. They don't know how long it'll take before he beats Shang Qinghua to a bloody pulp. After some arguing, it's agreed to come clean to Mu Qingfang first — to test the waters. He's been treating all of Shang Qinghua's wounds since they were disciples, and he'd be good back up if Yue Qingyuan didn't immediately cave to Shen Qingqiu's demands. Of course, Shang Qinghua wouldn't tell the complete truth — no one needed to know that Shang Qinghua spared Mobei-jun because he was hot — but he wouldn't alter the story too much. Better to keep to small lies, easy to keep consistent.

If it goes poorly... they'll just run. They'll abandon the friends and family they've found here, and they'll use whatever plot devices they can find to disguise themselves. The only reason it's not Plan A is because Mobei-jun knows Shang Qinghua's qi signature, and the only artifacts they know that can change qi signatures are... annoying to acquire and dangerous to use.

Mu Qingfang isn't surprised when Shang-shixiong shows up with various injuries, absolutely covered in demonic qi. It's routine at this point to sit him down, perform a check up, and ask questions he knows won't be answered. So he does. He heals the cuts and bruises, sets and heals the bones, and does his best to calm the eternally-stressed qi lest his shixiong have a deviation. He asks how this happened, expecting the usual evasive answer (hating that his shixiong is being abused while he does nothing but fix the aftermath), and...

and Shang Qinghua answers.

His shixiong, after years– decades of asking, stutters out an explanation. That he's been a spy for Mobei-jun since that mission where he was the only survivor. That he did it because he was scared, that by the time he was powerful enough to do anything about it, Mobei-jun was a king, and it would probably start a war if he killed him. He says Mobei-jun's been hurting him more often, that he's terrified he's going to die, and Mu Qingfang carefully soothes his shixiong's qi as tears start to fall and he stutters out his plan to team up with Shen-shixiong to tell Zhangmen-shixiong, to beg for forgiveness — for protection, even if it means sitting in a prison cell. He just doesn't want to die.

And in the face of his sobbing shixiong, constantly over-worked and terrified, Mu Qingfang promises to help. Because what else can he do? Turn his back on the shixiong he's been watching slowly fall apart over the decades? The shixiong he's watched go from introverted to downright anxious — the shixiong he's had to pick up and put back together with increasing frequency. Even if he hadn't come clean, Mu Qingfang would've had to have done something soon, with the way the injuries were increasing in severity. He's just glad Shang-shixiong told him first, so they could approach the sect leader together. It wouldn't have been good for his shixiong's stress levels if he'd demanded the sect leader interrogate him to figure out what was going on.

So, the two meet up with Shen Qingqiu and demand a meeting with Yue Qingyuan, who, as always, immediately makes time for Shen-shixiong. Shang Qinghua stutters through his story again, Mu Qingfang regulating his qi, and Shen Qingqiu bringing out a particular icy glare whenever Yue Qingyuan looks like he's going to interrupt. Zhangmen-shixiong's face is carefully blank by the time Shang Qinghua finishes speaking, at which point, Mu Qingfang decides to speak up.

He tells Zhangmen-shixiong of the countless injuries over the decades, of his certainty of their demonic origin, even during that first meeting. He tells the sect leader that if Shang Qinghua is going to be punished for protecting himself, for preventing a war, then he'll need to punish Mu Qingfang too. As a head disciple, he should've reported any suspicious injuries to his shizun, as a Peak Lord, he should've immediately informed Zhangmen-shixiong of Shang Qinghua's continuous injuries and of their suspiciously demonic origin. He says that he has even less of an excuse than Shang Qinghua, who was genuinely afraid for his life and the well-being of his sect. Mu Qingfang simply didn't want to make the situation worse for him, ignoring all rules and expectations that would've had the situation cleared up sooner.

Shen Qingqiu, clearly approving of Mu Qingfang's ardent defense, decides to continue, stating that the sect hasn't experienced an increase in failed missions or other sabotage. He explains that, clearly, Shang Qinghua had been doing his best to protect the sect, even under such strenuous circumstances. He sees no reason to be harsh towards someone who'd been a child when it started, and who was so thoroughly terrified that he only approached Shen Qingqiu, as a friend, because he could see he'd end up dead sooner or later due to the beatings.

Yue Qingyuan lets them all say their piece, and sighs. He sees Shang Qinghua's terror, and he understands both Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu's arguments. He says that this was a breach of trust, that ordinarily this would call for execution, but... Shang Qinghua has not caused harm to the sect, and had he continued, the only harm would've been to himself. As long as Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu are willing to bear the consequences, Yue Qingyuan will allow this to be swept under the rug, never spoken of again.

Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu are quick to agree, and Shang Qinghua's punishment is to update the sect's defense arrays... left unsaid was the expectation that Mobei-jun never be able to enter the sect again. And so, the matter is dealt with, and Shang-shixiong looks like he's had the weight of the world lifted off him once the arrays are complete.

So long as he doesn't leave the sect without a qi-cloaking artifact (courtesy of the Artifact Peak), he'll be safe. Mu Qingfang feels... thrilled, to know his shixiong won't have to suffer anymore.

Liu Qingge notices Shen Qingqiu's nerves as he cleanses his meridians. It's an unexpected change of pace, given the dour mood the man's been in for... months, at this point. The session finishes in silence, but there's an air of anticipation that has Liu Qingge... loitering, just a bit.

Eventually, Shen Qingqiu lets out a sigh, pours him tea, and starts to talk — quietly, as if ashamed of his words. He shares that, during the chaos at the end of the Immortal Alliance Concerence, his prized disciple broke a seal. It had been placed on him at birth, presumably by one of his parents, and revealed him to be a heavenly demon. He explains that he panicked at the sight of the seal, understanding what it meant, but his disciple looked just as shocked as him. He understood that his disciple was a demon, that he clearly didn't know that fact, and given the presence of multiple sects and the ongoing catastrophe... his disciple would die, if anyone else stumbled upon him.

Liu Qingge listens, as Shen Qingqiu shares that he pushed his own disciple into the Endless Abyss. His grief makes more sense now, Liu Qingge thinks. It's not just the grief of a teacher losing their favorite student, it's also the guilt of pushing that student into danger, even if it's to protect them. Even he would've hesitated to cut down the disciple, if he'd formed such a bond and the child clearly had no idea what was going on.

They continue sitting in silence, and Liu Qingge is almost ready to leave, before Shen Qingqiu speaks up again. He explains that Luo Binghe was a heavenly demon, and the last one — presumably his father — required the collaboration of multiple sects to seal away. There's a chance that Luo Binghe will survive the Abyss, and escape it.

There's a muted fear in Shen Qingqiu's eyes, as he states there's a chance Luo Binghe will hunt him down. That, given a demon's propensity for overreactions, he may take the entire sect with him. It wasn't like he explained his reasoning, when he pushed the child into the Abyss. All he'd know is that his caring shizun saw he was a demon and immediately pushed him into hell.

And Liu Qingge can understand that fear. Heavenly Demons were strong, too strong for even him to be confident in facing them alone. Even if this one was a child, if it managed to escape the Abyss... it would be too strong for Shen Qingqiu to survive. There's an obvious solution then: train until Shen Qingqiu is strong enough to at least run away.

He says that they'll go on hunts together, so Shen Qingqiu can fight those beasts he knows so much about, to get in practice as they look for any artifact that might help him. He says they'll spar, and he'll even let him face the Bai Zhan disciples for variety. Shen Qingqiu is... reluctant, but quickly realizes that it's probably his best option. With the condition that they return to the sect at least once a month to check on his disciples, he agrees to Liu Qingge's proposal.

They'll both train, and Liu Qingge won't let him out of sight for even a moment — not with a heavenly demon after his head.

The months afterwards are... peaceful.

An Ding grows used to the sight of Mu Qingfang, who arrives just before dawn every morning to share breakfast with Shang Qinghua before they must start work. They do each other's hair and gossip, sharing whatever happened the day before as they get ready. Without the constant fear, and with Mu Qingfang's help taming his curls (as the only other one in the sect with curly hair), the sect slowly comes to realize that Shang Qinghua is a total knockout, actually, it was just hidden behind frizzy hair, eyebags, and his constant terrified hunching.

There are still bad days, of course, where Mu Qingfang has to insist he delegate his work to his head disciple, or where Shang Qinghua ends up on Qian Cao in the middle of the night having a panic attack, but... they're growing rarer as time passes. Qian Cao learns to turn their heads when Shang Qinghua arrives with an early shipment or unexpected, expensive goods. They learn to mind their business when they see him comfort their Shizun after a particularly challenging day.

It doesn't really surprise anyone when they start courting. The only surprise is that Shang Qinghua is the one that started it, but even that is less shocking now than it would've been the year before. An Ding is happy that their shifu finally looks safe and healthy (he actually stops working at a reasonable hour now, even if it is still after sunset), and Qian Cao is glad their shizun has someone of his own to vent to (given the stress of his job and the various struggles that come with it).

As for Qing Jing, they're absolutely thrilled that their shizun isn't moping anymore. The loss of Binghe hit them hard too, but seeing Shen Qingqiu make the effort to go on hunts made it easier for them to move on too. They miss him, when he's gone, but he always returns with treats from various villages, and a week's worth of stories and lessons to impart. He's even compiled his own bestiary! Ning Yingying has taken to giving Liu Qingge sweets as a thank you for helping her shizun, and Ming Fan grows more comfortable in his old role as head disciple, with how his shizun actually sees him and compliments him, rather than missing Binghe. The Bamboo House is still... a very hard place to be. Without Shizun, it's empty, and even with his recovery, the vacant room seems to bring back his grief.

Seeing this, Qing Jing is both relieved and absolutely pissed when Liu Qingge offers up his spare room instead. Shen Qingqiu accepts, and it's become common for him to join the Bai Zhan disciples in their morning exercises before returning to teach on Qing Jing. They are, understandably, absolutely pumped to have another Peak Lord around to fight (on top of their own being around more often! Shifu teaches them more! And is he getting better at it? What miracles!)

They settle into a routine, and, though it takes an unexpectedly long time, they announce their courting to Yue Qingyuan, who looks both heartbroken and extremely happy for them. Qing Jing gives Liu Qingge a surprisingly scary shovel talk (though he's mostly amused, he respects their dedication), but are overall very happy that their shizun is happy. Bai Zhan is just cheering that another Peak Lord has basically taken up permanent residence, since Shen Qingqiu stays in Liu Qingge's house rather than the bamboo house. They enjoy the unique challenge he gives, and some of the braver ones tell their shifu that he better treat him right or they'll try to take him for themselves (he went particularly hard on them after that, but they had zero regrets — Shen-shibo is a catch after all!)

Meanwhile, Mobei-jun is... frustrated and heartbroken. He can no longer enter Cang Qiong Sect, and he can no longer find Shang Qinghua's qi signature. He doesn't know why — was Shang Qinghua caught? Is he dead? Why else would he just... randomly leave? He's stuck with Mobei-jun for decades, why would he leave now? What was the catalyst? Was he truly so uncomfortable with Mobei-jun's courting? Why wouldn't he just say so!?

The questions leave him angry and frustrated, with no way to get answers. It's only after he enters Luo Binghe's service (an embarrassing loss — would he have done better with Qinghua's advice?) that he finally gets... something of an answer. A potential explanation.

Luo Binghe has no friends in the demon realm, trusts absolutely no one, but he's still a kind person. When he sees that Mobei-jun is frustrated, all it takes is that curly haired boy (a face so similar to Qinghua's) for all the questions to come spilling out. Whether it takes hours or minutes, Mobei-jun doesn't know, all he remembers is the lesson from that conversation:

Humans court differently. Constant physical bombardment is known as abuse.

And Mobei-jun is sick.

He hurt Qinghua. He drove away the one man that stuck with him through everything, just because he couldn't be bothered to double check that his courting would be understood. According to Luo Binghe... it was a miracle Shang Qinghua hadn't left sooner. And the worst part? Mobei-jun can't right this wrong. He can't explain himself. Because Cang Qiong has new wards, and Shang Qinghua has figured out how to make himself thoroughly disappear, even though Mobei-jun does receive word when the Peak Lord is spotted during a trade deal. He can't get Qinghua back. There's nothing he can do.

So he stays by Luo Binghe's side. His curly hair, his similar face... these days, Mobei-jun curses himself for not digging into Shang Qinghua's history. For this boy is an orphan, a street rat, and now it would be near impossible to find out his true relation to Shang Qinghua, given that no one knew which humans Tianlang-jun had bed. It doesn't truly matter, whether he is a cousin, brother, or nephew, Mobei-jun will right his wrongs through Shang Qinghua's kin, unable to reach the man himself.

When Luo Binghe leaves the Demon Realm, he goes to Huan Hua, and things progress pretty much as they did in canon, with Shen Qingqiu running, absolutely fucking terrified, being force fed blood, and agreeing to be held in the Water Prison to avoid blowback on the sect. Only difference is that Liu Qingge tried to kill LBH, which almost caused an incident with Huan Hua, because no one believed he was a demon. In the water prison, Luo Binghe sees... a ring. He knows his shizun never wore that before, so he asks about it. Not wanting to put Liu Qingge in even more danger, Shen Qingqiu stays silent.

Gongyi Xiao helps Shen Qingqiu escape, and things continue to progress. When Liu Qingge squares up to fight Luo Binghe, he notices him wearing a ring, threaded onto a necklace, and so similar to Shen Qingqiu's. It doesn't take him long to process the fact that his beloved shizun is... already taken.

By Liu fucking Qingge.

He's thoroughly pissed off, he goes to attack, but pauses when he sees his shizun grip Liu-shishu tightly, shaking like a leaf. He looks like he's preparing to take his husband and run. The thought is... off-putting. Because Liu Qingge is the War God of Bai Zhan Peak. Why doesn't Shizun have faith in the man he married?

So he asks.

And Shen Qingqiu doesn't answer.

Liu Qingge still hasn't relaxed, ready to attack at any moment, and Luo Binghe is running out of patience.

"If Shizun finds this demon despicable enough to throw into the Abyss, he should let his husband kill it."

"That's not why he did it."

Liu Qingge's words throw him off balance. He expected the man to be shocked, hearing that his loving husband had done such a thing (maybe cause a rift in their relationship), he expected, maybe, to be attacked for being so disrespectful.

Liu Qingge then explains, because Shen Qingqiu is terrified into silence.

And Luo Binghe is crushed. Shizun threw him into the Abyss... to save him? Shizun was scared for his safety?

And suddenly Luo Binghe feels sick, when he remembers what he's done. How he hurt Shizun, who was too scared to answer. Who just wanted to protect him, only to realize later that he wasn't thinking straight — that his words were twisted in his effort to get Luo Binghe into the safest place possible in that moment: the Endless Abyss. The shizun that believed in his capabilities enough to be afraid that he'd come seeking revenge.

The fight drains out of him, Liu Qingge doesn't relax, but Shen Qingqiu behind him looks just the slightest bit more curious than terrified. Luo Binghe pulls out a note, written from Mobei-jun to Shang Qinghua, and drops it onto the roof. "This disciple apologizes to Shizun. Please ensure this message gets to Shang-shishu." He uses Xin Mo to teleport to a different roof, staying just long enough to see Liu Qingge hand the note to Shen Qingqiu, who collapsed bonelessly into his side.

He goes to the Northern Desert, rather than the Southern Kingdom. He arrives in the sitting area of Mobei-jun's quarters, and plops himself into a seat. He thinks, and thinks, and he's feeling absolutely awful by the time Mobei-jun arrives. He takes one look at Luo Binghe's disheveled state, and takes the seat next to him.

They talk.

Mobei-jun is a surprisingly comforting presence. He'd always listened and offered advice, but Luo Binghe didn't think he'd have the patience for talking him through... whatever the hell this is. Heartbreak? He isn't sure.

It helps though, and Luo Binghe feels much lighter. Mobei-jun had already promised to never darken Cang Qiong's doorstep, to never go anywhere near Shang Qinghua again, after what he'd done... Luo Binghe would just have to do the same. Even if all he wanted was to go back to Qing Jing, to his room in the Bamboo House... but Shizun is married now, there's no way he'd allow Luo Binghe to stay there permanently.

So he just... stays in the Demon Realm. He's an emperor now, surely Shizun wouldn't want him neglecting that duty? And even if he would've liked Shizun's advice... Mobei-jun would have to do. He had experience, and he's been nothing but helpful. Decision made, Luo Binghe embraces his status as the Demon Emperor, and gives it his full attention.

Without him, Shen Qingqiu's trial falls apart, even as the Palace Master accuses Liu Qingge of killing Luo Binghe. There's not enough concrete evidence for Shen Qingqiu's crimes, and the character defenses from the sect and his husband all speak louder than Qiu Haitang's slander. Even if Liu Qingge was in extremely hot water with Huan Hua, they couldn't prove he'd done anything either.

Shen Qingqiu delivers Mobei-jun's note to Mu Qingfang, asking him to be there when Shang Qinghua read it, because who knew what was in it. He agrees, and they read it as soon as possible, to get it over with.

It's an apology, with an explanation of their different cultures and a promise to never bother him again. It's a promise to right his wrongs through Luo Binghe, who he assumes to be related to Shang Qinghua through the boy's mother. It's short and blunt, and Shang Qinghua is... conflicted. He loves Mu Qingfang, and honestly, couldn't even dream of a life without him, but... Mobei-jun was his dream man. Thinking like that... perhaps it was for the best that they didn't end up together. The reality could never live up to the expectation.

More importantly, is him remembering his half-sister in this life: Xi-jie. Who had suddenly cut contact with him completely, and who he'd never managed to track down afterwards, not having known her full name. Shang Qinghua is crushed, to realize the protagonist was that close to being given a better life. Had Su Xiyan managed to contact him at any point, he would've taken her son in in a heartbeat. Mu Qingfang consoles him, and they decide, jointly, that it was for the best if he didn't pursue that relationship. Not with Mobei-jun promising to stick by the boy, and not with the way he'd treated Shen Qingqiu.

And everyone just... moves on with their lives.

Mu Qingfang and Shang Qinghua are happy together; they have three kids that get absolutely spoiled by their disciples, and they take care of each other, ensuring neither overworks too severely. Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu, without the threat of Binghe's return hanging over them, relax more. They enjoy peaceful days with the Qing Jing disciples, they have fun jointly beating up the Bai Zhan disciples and teaching them new moves, and their hunts aren't nearly as battle-focused as they were before, giving Shen Qingqiu a chance to study the beasts rather than immediately going to fight them.

Luo Binghe and Mobei-jun are rarely apart and treat each other as equals in all things. They value the other's advice when implementing policies, and they will each jump to the other's defense, whether it be physically or through words. It surprises absolutely no one when their affair is found out — at first a convenient way to control Xin Mo, eventually morphing into a proper relationship. They're the rulers of the demon realm, they need not abide by the rules, but... Luo Binghe enjoys planning the wedding, and Mobei-jun can't deny him that, even if it meant dealing with the paperwork of technically merging the two kingdoms but also not. Their broken hearts have long been mended by each other, and it's no surprise when they have six children, close-knit and loving, like the family they wished they'd had sooner.

Tianlang-jun rotted away, despite Zhuzhi-lang's best efforts. His last act was to give Zhuzhi-lang enough energy to sustain his human form indefinitely. He is purposeless, and alone, and he sits beside his uncle's corpse for far longer than he should have. There's nothing left for him, not with his uncle gone.

So he exits the cave, and he sits under a tree, out in the open. He is very clearly a demon within Huan Hua territory, so it wouldn't take long for a cultivator to stumble upon him and put him out of his misery. Sure enough, in the middle of his patrol, Gongyi Xiao sees a snake demon just... sitting there. He doesn't look hostile, nor does he look like he's going to move.

He also just... looks kinda pathetic.

So, Gongyi Xiao makes a decision. He can't, in good conscience, leave it there. If he does, and it attacks someone, that's his fault. He also can't just kill it if it's not even doing anything. So he decides to... initiate conversation.

It takes a while for Zhuzhi-lang to bother properly responding, but once he does, they get along quite well. He shares stories about his and his uncle's journies through the human realm, reminiscing as he starts to process his grief. Gongyi Xiao decides, maybe this demon isn't that bad actually, and before they know it, it's sun down and Gongyi Xiao is very late.

They meet daily, with Gongyi Xiao taking on more patrols than usual to make sure his demon is doing alright. Eventually, though, pieces of Zhuzhi-lang's story start to... click. They conflict with things he's been told by his shizun. Maybe Zhuzhi-lang is misremembering in his grief, but... he's concerned enough to start investigating on his own.

He finds a lot of dirt on the Old Palace Master, most of it completely unrelated to Su Xiyan, which is what he was actually trying to investigate. Eventually, he grows so disgusted with the sheer amount of crimes the old man has committed that he decides to just... start a coup. He's well-liked, so it's easy enough to get people on his side — it's even easier when he starts spreading rumors and has all of the man's misdeeds printed into a fairly popular book (more than a few publishing houses were burned down because of it, oops). He didn't... intend to replace the old man, but that's what happened and, hey, now he can bring his demon home and no one can fight him over it, yes sect leaders, he's perfectly sane, thank you.

Zhuzhi-lang learns that he's just as attracted to competence and beauty as Tianlang-jun, he just prefers his with a side of kindness rather than tsundere. He also finds it incredibly funny that everyone just... pointedly ignores his presence. A demon he may be, but their sect leader wanted him there, so there he would stay. The whole scenario brings to mind the forbidden romances his uncle loved to read about. As he settles in, watching Gongyi Xiao overhaul Huan Hua Palace and all its greedy rules, he thinks his uncle would want to see how this story ends.

AND THAT'S IT! My wrists hurt and i accidentally posted before it was done, lmao, but yeah. Feel free to write this, I feel like I'd start it and never finish lol

#mushang #liushen #mobing #gongzhi #svsss #mxtx #mxtx svsss #mu qingfang #shang qinghua #liu qingge #shen qingqiu #mobei jun #luo binghe #gongyi xiao #zhuzhi lang

49 notes · View notes