#fix hot water system

[melbournesplumber]

Discover exceptional plumbing services with NLK Plumbing. Our skilled professionals deliver top-quality solutions, from repairs to installations, ensuring your plumbing needs are met with precision. Count on us for reliable, efficient service in Melbourne.

When plumbing problems strike, NLK Plumbing is your trusted ally. Our experienced team is dedicated to resolving issues swiftly and effectively. From leaky faucets to complex installations, we've got you covered. Choose NLK Plumbing for peace of mind.

Facing a plumbing crisis? NLK Plumbing offers 24/7 emergency services in Melbourne. We're just a call away, ready to tackle any issue at any time. Trust us for quick, reliable solutions to keep your home or business running smoothly.

At NLK Plumbing, we believe quality service doesn't have to break the bank. We offer affordable plumbing solutions without compromising on excellence. Enjoy cost-effective repairs and installations with NLK Plumbing.

[hotwaterheaterstafford]

Hot Water Heater Stafford

If you want an electric water heater, we can install one and you should be able to like this better than a gas system because it is easier to operate. For example, you don’t have to light a copilot or have to worry about having a fire burning in your garage or attic. Water Heaters Repair Stafford can install this unit or do any maintenance to get it operational. Of course many people have and are familiar with a gas water heater, which is the most common type of appliance. In addition to replacing worn out parts, hot Water Heaters Repair Stafford can clean it of sedimentation to increase the lifespan of this important appliance.

[waterheaterstaffordtexas]

Water Heater Stafford TX

Our Gas Water Heater Stafford TX services are exactly what you need if you would like to install that is powered by gases. Are you unsatisfied by your current heating system and you want to replace it with something that’s better? If so, don’t worry about this. Our plumbers will make it happen. Is your water heater leaking? This is a frustrating conundrum that a lot of our Texas customers find themselves in, but you can count on our technicians doing whatever it takes to end this leak for you. Water Heater Stafford TX will make a quick appointment with you and then rush to your side to help.

[ramservices1]

Discover 5 key signs your geyser needs servicing and expert tips to prevent major issues. Ensure efficiency and safety with timely professional care.

Do Visit: https://ramservicesandsales.com/2024/11/22/signs-your-geyser-needs-servicing/

[brockyselectrical]

Smoke Alarm Installation: Protect Your Home and Loved Ones with Brockys Electrical

Smoke alarms are a vital part of home safety, providing early warning against the dangers of fire and smoke inhalation. Properly installed and maintained smoke detectors can make the difference between life and tragedy. At Brockys Electrical, we understand the importance of reliable smoke alarm systems and are committed to helping you protect your family and property.

Why Smoke Alarm Installation Is Essential

Fires can spread rapidly, often leaving little time to react. Smoke alarms are designed to detect even the smallest traces of smoke, alerting you before a fire escalates. This early detection allows more time for evacuation, reducing the risk of injury or worse.

Many homes have outdated or improperly installed smoke alarms, compromising their effectiveness. Modern smoke alarm systems offer advanced features such as:

Interconnected Alarms: When one alarm detects smoke, all units sound, ensuring you’re alerted no matter where you are in the house.

Dual-Sensor Technology: These alarms detect both slow, smoldering fires and fast, flaming ones.

Battery Backup: Ensures functionality during power outages.

Professional installation ensures that your smoke alarms are compliant with local safety regulations, properly positioned for optimal performance, and tested for reliability.

What to Expect from Professional Smoke Alarm Installation

At Brockys Electrical, we go beyond simply installing a device. Our comprehensive service includes:

Assessment of Your Home: We evaluate your property layout and determine the best locations for smoke alarms.

Selection of Quality Alarms: We provide a range of high-quality, compliant smoke detectors to meet your specific needs.

Expert Installation: Our licensed electricians ensure secure and effective installation.

Testing and Demonstration: We test the alarms to confirm functionality and teach you how to maintain them.

Ongoing Support: Need maintenance or replacement? We’re just a call away.

Compliance with Regulations

In Australia, smoke alarm laws are strict, requiring homes to meet specific installation standards. For example, interconnected photoelectric smoke alarms must be installed in all bedrooms, hallways, and escape routes in residential properties. Brockys Electrical ensures your smoke alarms are fully compliant, providing peace of mind for homeowners and landlords alike.

Why Choose Brockys Electrical?

With years of experience serving the Sunshine Coast, Brockys Electrical has earned a reputation for reliability, professionalism, and customer satisfaction. Our skilled electricians prioritize safety and quality in every project. Whether you’re installing alarms in a new home or upgrading your existing system, we tailor our services to your needs.

Act Now for Your Safety

Don’t wait until it’s too late. Ensure your home is protected with professionally installed smoke alarms. Contact Brockys Electrical today for a free consultation or to book your smoke alarm installation.

Protect what matters most with Brockys Electrical – your trusted partner in home safety!

[hitechair]

Stay Cozy and Save Money: Exploring the Benefits of Gas Ducted Heating in Melbourne

In Melbourne's unpredictable climate, staying warm during winter is essential. Gas ducted heating systems provide an efficient and cost-effective solution for residents. This blog explores the numerous benefits of installing gas ducted heating in your Melbourne home.

What is Gas Ducted Heating?

Gas ducted heating operates by distributing warm air through ducts installed in the ceiling or under the floor. It uses natural gas as its fuel source, making it both economical and environmentally friendly. For efficient Gas Ducted Heating Installation Melbourne, professional services ensure optimal performance.

Energy Efficiency and Cost Savings

One of the primary advantages of gas ducted heating is its energy efficiency. These systems can achieve high energy efficiency ratings, reducing both your carbon footprint and utility bills. In Melbourne, where winters can be chilly, Ducted Fixing Melbourne ensures your system operates seamlessly throughout the season.

Comfort and Convenience

Gas ducted heating provides consistent warmth throughout your home, eliminating cold spots and maintaining a comfortable indoor environment. Whether you need Add On Heating and Cooling Installation Melbourne or a standalone heating solution, ducted systems offer flexibility to meet your needs.

Environmentally Friendly Choice

Compared to electric heating alternatives, gas ducted systems produce fewer greenhouse gas emissions, contributing positively to environmental conservation efforts. They also offer a reliable heating solution without compromising on sustainability.

In conclusion, gas ducted heating is a practical choice for Melbourne homeowners looking to stay warm while saving on heating costs. For Gas Ducted Heating Installation Melbourne, consider professional services to ensure efficient operation and maximum comfort throughout the year. Whether you need Ducted Fixing Melbourne or Add On Heating and Cooling Installation Melbourne, investing in gas ducted heating offers long-term benefits for your home and the environment.

[poulawaterheaterservice]

Poula Water Heater Service

Discover unparalleled proficiency in repairing water heaters, emergency plumbing, drain cleaning, water leak detection, sewer fix, toilet resolve, and garbage disposal aid at Houston Water Heater Services. Our dedicated crew certifies swift and reliable solutions for all your pipework needs. Experience advantage in every aspect of your piping system with us. Maintaining the optimal performance of your electric instant heater is essential for an efficient steaming water supply. Particularised tankless electric heater maintenance ensures longevity and Energy saving measures address potential issues before they escalate. Ideal for showers and suitable for daily use. For a comprehensive approach consider investing in a whole domestic powered warming apparatus without a tank that provides ample hot water for various tasks simultaneously. Whether you require a dedicated unit for your shower or a system to cater to the entire house our range of residential electric tankless heaters delivers reliability and energy savings enhancing your overall water heating experience. In the realm of water heating, understanding the nuances between tankless water heaters and traditional models is crucial, especially during emergencies. Unlike whole house tankless water heaters that provide on demand hot water, usual systems store and heat water continuously. When a gas tankless water heater encounters issues, swift action is essential. Knowing the distinctions involving tankless water heater brands is paramount for effective troubleshooting. Also considering tankless water heater rebates our company can aid in economical maintenance, encouraging homeowners to embrace energy efficient solutions.

Contact us on : 409-515-1210

[aptplumbingsblog]

When buying a new electric hot water heater system we will explain how to determine which one is best for you. Know how big of an electric hot water system you require.

[vin-taege]

Could you do headcannons for both sfw and nsfw showering with Chishiya? :3

The Water's Just Right

Summary: Showering headcanons for our favorite snarky boy

Genre: fluff, smut, gn! reader

Note: Oh yeah, I'm back again! I've been gone for so long because of college, but I'm here again to revive the aib fandom >:3 also my first time writing headcannons. :DDD I think I got carried away sjjsjs

☄. *. ⋆ sfw

ok let's start with headcannons for the real world

as a doctor, he mainly takes quick showers

contrary to popular belief, i feel like he enjoys hot showers over cold ones. like he's already going to be stressed because of work, so might as well have at least one part of his day be a little relaxing

the only time you can take joint showers with him is during his off-days or if you stay up long enough to catch him coming home

he doesn't like it when you do the latter option because he firmly believes you should take care of yourself and sleep early

even though he runs on 3 hours of sleep maximum every day

he lets you wash his hair after initially (and weakly) refusing

you definitely use scented shampoo on him (strawberry because he thinks floral scents are too strong)

he prefers subtle scents because the hospital is already filled with strong odors.

he'll never admit he likes it when you wash his hair, especially when you massage his scalp

"did you purr a little?"

"I think you need your hearing checked."

loves it when you run your hands up and down his back

you mainly use showering as an excuse to dote on him

likes kissing your neck while you attempt to lather soap on him

random but he installed a non-slip mat on the floor because he doesn't want the two of you to get into any accidents

likes playing with your hair by gathering soap bubbles and dumping them on you

you don't point this out because you're scared he'll withdraw from letting himself be a kid for once

sometimes when it's been a rough day, he lets you hold him in the shower for a moment

just letting the warm water wash away his stress while he melts into your arms

he used to skip lotion until you started putting it on him

he got used to it after that and subconsciously started integrating it into his routine

honestly before you came along, had the worst skincare routine ever

"That's... that's not how you put on facial wash. You need to wash your face with it for at least a minute."

"I'm not a dermatologist, y/n."

"You don't need to be to know that???"

In the borderlands, it's basically the same but without the luxury of proper skin products.

always ALWAYS showers after games

he hates the ick from going outside and keeps himself sane by maintaining cleanliness

surprisingly, he's more forward with asking you to join him

in the real world, you're the one who always asks for permission, but now he always looks for your presence

especially since he knows you could be gone any day

"Do you want to join me?"

"Didn't the heater system break down?"

"I fixed ours. The water's just right."

☄. *. ⋆ nsfw

remember that non-slip mat?

oh yeah, that was definitely for this occasion

he doesn't like lifting you up because again, safety first

prefers standing positions where he can press you up against the wall.

LOVES LOVES LOVES FOGGING UP THE GLASS

he doesn't pull your hair because he knows it'll be prone to breakage

he's such a nerd about bodily care except for when it comes to himself.

holds your neck instead and uses it as leverage to pound into you

either that or he digs his fingers into your hips so he can grind his cock inside you.

makes it his goal to make you squirt at least once

OK THIS IS MY PERSONAL HEADCANNON

it may be because of the tight space, or the bathroom acoustics, or the added privacy

but this man is definitely louder in the shower

you love sucking him off because of this

deep moaning, swearing, whimpering when you're being a little shit and you overstimulate him

plays with your chest a lot because he likes how slippery the soap makes it

LISTEN

also installed a detachable showerhead ;)))

[evielmostdefinitely]

hiiii could you please write something about aftercare with young snow? like how in jealous girl it says he babied her afterwards, but a whole fic about it? i just wanna see how sweet a cruel man like snow can be 🤭

tip of my fingers |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested above, aftercare with snow.

contains: fluff. mentions of dom/sub themes. possessive snow.

Coriolanus sat on the edge of the bed, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, chest still rising and falling with every ragged breath from his post orgasm. He always got flushed like this after a night of particularly rough sex. 

“‘M going to the shower, my love.” Corio muttered, curls matted to his forehead, muggy and sweaty. His hand patted the top of your thigh, gentler than before, your skin still raw and sensitive. 

You didn’t move, didn’t utter a word, really didn’t make a sound besides a pathetic whine. Corio’s head snapped around, turning to you in an instant. His eyes narrowed carefully, scanning over you like he was assessing his latest plans. “Are you alright?” 

Your glazed eyes staring off, face turned, smushed into the mattress, a pool of your own drool beneath you. Normally he’d mock you, tease you for being so messy. “My messy girl, look at you.” He’d give you a grin that felt more like a sneer. 

Not this time. 

Coriolanus called your name, softly but firmly, crouching in front of you. His hand rubbed over your clammy forehead, heated cheeks still flushed from your climax. “Look at me, darling.” Corio muttered, fingers tracing over your cheek down the slope of your neck. You shuddered but didn’t turn to him, still lost in your own haze. “Can you hear me?” 

Your own mind was miles away from that very bedroom, lost under roaring waves and a hazy fog that Corio always got you in. Usually you snapped back quicker, a few loving kisses, the shock of a cold rag cleaning you up. Other times, it was more difficult. 

Coriolanus moved to the bathroom, swallowing down the venomous bark of spewing orders that threatened to fall from his lips. He didn’t like this feeling, when he was out of control, especially with you. When something was wrong and he didn’t know an immediate fix. The rational side of himself told him to stay calm, do what he knew to before spiraling into a panic. 

Corio tried to swallow down his beating heart, wringing the cold water out of the cloth, before walking back into the bedroom. The air was still thick and hot, sticky with the lingering musk of sex. He moved beside you, wordlessly, smoothing the cloth over your forehead. 

The icy feeling shocked your system, leaving your shuddering, mind lurching back, vision clearing. Corio was before you, brows pinched with a concerned frown, studying you carefully. Your eyes met his, blinking helplessly before him. He swallowed a groan at how it made his cock lurch, seeing you so weak and needy. 

“My love,” Corio’s hand slid down your cheek, thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek. “Are you alright?” 

You blinked, moving into his touch, nearly instinctively. “You’re alright?” Corio pressed, head tilting in a much softer way to look at you. “Yes?” 

You nodded, pushing off the mattress, groaning at the uncomfortable stretch of sore skin on your ass and thighs. Coriolanus had used his belt, your favorite, tonight. 

“Be careful.” Corio clicked, hands wrapping around your biceps, much softer now than before. “You’re going to be sore, darling girl. Careful.” His tone softer now, hushed mumblings as he helped you up. 

You winced when your raw skin brushed the silk of the sheets, the ghosting of a whimper on your lips. Corio shushed you gently, sitting next to you, pulling you into his lap. His hand brushing down your hair, your skin sticky on his own. 

“How are you feeling?” Coriolanus muttered, lips brushing against your scalp, breathing in the sweaty scent mixed with your perfume from before. 

“‘M alright.” You muttered, your cheek against his pec. You could hear his heart rate, how it fluttered and stilled to a steady rhythm. How it would erupt in an excited crescendo when you finally spoke, making your veins fill with ooey gooey rushes of adoration. For all of Coriolanus’ cruelties, his harshness- he did love you. It was evident in moments like these. 

“Do you need the healing ointment? I can get it from the servant’s quarters-” 

“-I’ll be alright, Corio.” You hummed, eyes pulling heavily. The exhaustion washes over you in thick waves. “I just want you to hold me, please.” Your eyes lifted, rounding sweetly. 

He’d be a fool not to, Coriolanus decided, pulling you closer into his chest. He liked you like this, pliant and at his every whim, completely reliant on him. 

Corio moved to the bath after, quieting your whines of protest with a small tut, coaxing kisses to your temples, testing the bath water with great show while you sat on the ledge. 

You stayed pressed to his chest, clinging to him like a lifeline, like you might float away or dissolve if he let go. Corio let you, ego swelling off the dependency. 

“Did I go too hard?” Corio hummed, a sudsy hand rubbing down your spine. The bath filled with the tonic fresh from District Eleven, dried orange peels, lavender, and rose. Coriolanus brought it to you, after his last visit to the district. You had swooned over it, smothering him sillily in kisses that made him blush. 

“No,” You shook your head, inhaling the scent that was entirely his. “I think it was the teasing and the spanking, at the same time. I just- I wasn’t ready for it.” You knew what he wanted to hear. Coriolanus had always been adamant after your rough play that you debrief him. It felt very professional, which is why you were reluctant, but that type of blunt, straight forward reporting is what Corio responded best to. 

Corio nodded, a low hum vibrating out of his chest, tickling your ear. “I see. I won’t do it as much next time.” He wouldn’t apologize, but you could hear it in his unspoken words. 

“Just not as much at the same time.” You whispered sheepishly, as if he didn’t know every part of you. 

Coriolanus nodded, a wet hand rubbing the base of your neck, scratching your scalp gently. He knew you loved it, knew it would have your head tipping back into his touch so he could kiss you. 

You let him wash you, dry you off- only whimpering when the towel brushes over your ignited skin. He shushed you, a silent apology, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh. He put the ointment on anyway, muttering flippantly about how “you had obligations tomorrow, and didn’t need to be squirming the whole time”. You knew it was because it made him feel better. 

Corio dressed you in your nightgown, slipping the powdery blue, soft fabric over your skin, trailing kisses from the back of your shoulder to your ear. 

Underneath the silk of the sheets, you slept in his arms, face to face, whispering in the darkness of the room. It always brought out the vulnerability of Coriolanus in these moments, holding you, feeling you, smelling you- he’d bear his soul to you. 

“I’m unsure about the games.” Corio muttered, arms tightening around you. 

“Unsure in what way, honey?” You hummed, finger raking through his curls, behind his ear- his favorite spot. 

“Unsure that they’ll be as successful as they need to be.” Corio hummed, and even through the dark you could see the concern on his features. “Unsure that people will watch.” 

You paused for a moment. You decided not to tell him how you truly felt, not then, anyways. Selfishly, you didn’t want to ruin the intimacy, the softness of the moment. “I’m sure they’ll be everything you hope for them to be.” You hummed, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “Everything always does.” 

Your words, as forced as they were, brought comfort to Coriolanus. His head falling back into your hair, pressing a kiss to your scalp. Fingertips brushing skin, hushed words, and soft kisses all exchanged under the twilight of the night. Tomorrow, you’d be prim and proper. You’d stand beside Corio respectfully, hide your grimace at the mention of the upcoming reaping, refrain from rolling your eyes at the suck ups that flocked to Coriolanus in a giddy, exaggerated manner. You two would be the picture of perfection that Panem wanted you to be. For now, you’d be content to lay in each other's arms, being yourself instead.

[lila-lou]

✨His true fate - Part 36/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap, Angst

Word Count: 8075

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Jensen’s panic quickly shifted to anger, sharp and hot as it coursed through him. He stared at the photo again, his jaw tightening. He recognized the moment immediately—it had been just before Christmas, during one of the most exhausting days he’d had with the kids and Danneel. He’d wanted nothing more than a break, a few quiet moments to himself, and the hot tub had seemed like the perfect escape.

He remembered it vividly: he’d been leaning back, arms stretched out on the edge, eyes closed, a few drinks already in his system. The steam rising around him had been a small comfort, a rare moment of peace in a storm of tension. And then Danneel had appeared, catching him off guard as she joined him—completely naked.

“What the fuck are you doing, Danneel?”, he’d barked, sitting up straight as she slid into the water.

“I just want to talk”, she’d said smoothly, her tone too calm, too practiced. She’d waded closer, her movements deliberate, and before he could react, she’d climbed onto his lap.

The memory made his blood boil. He’d pushed her away immediately, his voice sharp and full of disbelief. “Get off me! What the fuck is wrong with you?”,

But none of that was in the photo. Whoever had taken it—probably Danneel herself—had captured only the moment before, when she was laughing, leaning against him, making it look far more intimate than it had been. The scratch on his bicep from hanging the Christmas picture was like a mocking timestamp, proof of how recent the photo was.

“She planned this”, Jensen muttered to himself, his anger growing with each passing second. “She fucking planned it”.

He clenched his phone tightly, his mind racing. This was exactly the kind of manipulation Danneel was capable of—trying to undermine his relationship with you, to keep him tethered to her for appearances, or simply out of spite. It was infuriating, and it made him feel sick knowing that you’d been hurt because of it.

Jensen paced the room, running a hand through his hair as he tried to figure out what to do. He needed to fix this. He needed to talk to you, to explain everything. But first, he had to make sure this didn’t happen again.

He grabbed his phone and called Danneel. She answered after a few rings, her voice casual, as if she hadn’t just sent a wrecking ball into his life.

“Jensen”, she greeted, her tone almost sweet. “What’s up?”.

“You know exactly what’s up”, he snapped, his voice low and angry. “That photo. The one you sent to her. The fuck are you trying to do?”.

There was a pause, then a feigned laugh. “I have no idea what you’re talking about”.

“Don’t play games with me, Danneel”, he said, his tone sharp. “You set me up. You took that picture knowing exactly how it would look, and then you sent it to her to mess with us. Why?”.

Jensen’s voice was rising, raw and filled with fury. “How the hell did you even get her fucking number?”, he demanded, pacing back and forth, the tension radiating off him in waves. His hand tightened around his phone as though he could physically shake the truth out of her.

Danneel’s pause on the other end of the line was brief but telling. “It wasn’t hard”, she said casually, her tone dripping with smug satisfaction. “You know, Jensen. Your phone always laying around”.

Jensen let out a sharp, bitter laugh, his disbelief bubbling over. “You signed the fucking papers, Danneel! It’s already over. Why the fuck would you try to destroy that for me? Why can’t you just let me be happy?”.

Her voice was calm, too calm, and it only made him angrier. “Because, Jensen, you don’t just get to walk away like this never happened. You don’t get to move on and play house with someone else while everything we built gets left in the dust”.

“Everything we built?”, Jensen snapped, his voice nearly breaking. “You mean the marriage you’ve been emotionally checked out of for years? The marriage that was dead long before I met her? Don’t give me that bullshit, Danneel”.

His words hit a nerve, and her tone turned icy. “Watch yourself, Jensen. I still have plenty of things I could say. Things that could make your little fairy tale crumble”.

Jensen stopped pacing, his body rigid as he pressed the phone closer to his ear. “You think threatening me is going to change anything?”, he growled. “You’re only proving why I had to leave in the first place. I’m done playing these games, Danneel. Done”.

She didn’t respond right away, but he could almost hear her smirk through the silence. “If you were really done, Jensen, you wouldn’t be calling me now, would you?”.

His grip on the phone tightened. “The only reason I’m calling is because you crossed a line. You had no right to send her that picture. None”.

“And yet”, Danneel said smoothly, “it seems to have gotten your attention. Funny how that works”.

Jensen clenched his jaw, the anger simmering in him reaching a boiling point. “You think this is a fucking game, don’t you?”, he said, his voice deadly quiet now. “Well, congratulations. You won this round. But this stops here. Do you hear me? I won’t let you come between us”.

Danneel’s laughter came through the phone, low and cold, the sound sending a fresh wave of frustration through Jensen. “Looks like it’s already working”, she mused, her voice tinged with triumph. “You’re losing your temper, Jensen. I don’t think I’ve heard you this rattled in years”.

He clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the phone. “You think this is funny? You’re playing with people’s lives, Danneel. Real people. This isn’t just some power move to make you feel better”.

She ignored his words entirely, her tone dripping with mock concern. “So, how bad was it? Did she already dump you? You don’t call me like this unless you’re desperate. Guess I hit a nerve”.

Jensen’s chest tightened at her question, his mind flashing to you. The guilt was suffocating, but he wasn’t about to give Danneel the satisfaction of knowing she’d hit her mark.

“You’re unbelievable”, he said, his voice low and dangerous. “This isn’t about me. This isn’t about her. It’s about you not knowing when to let go. You signed the papers, Danneel. What the hell do you even want from me?”.

“Maybe I just wanted to remind you who you’re dealing with”, she said smoothly. “You don’t get to rewrite history, Jensen. I was there first, and I’ll always be part of your story, whether you like it or not”.

Jensen let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head even though she couldn’t see him. “You really don’t get it, do you? Being ‘first’ doesn’t mean a damn thing when you treat someone like they’re last. Whatever hold you think you have on me, it’s gone. And if you ever try something like this again, you’ll regret it. Trust me”.

Danneel’s silence stretched for a moment, her smirk almost audible when she finally spoke again. “We’ll see about that”, she said simply, her tone calm and calculating.

Jensen ended the call without another word, throwing his phone onto the couch as he dragged a hand through his hair. His chest felt tight, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on him.

The sun was already high in the sky by the time you stirred awake, your body feeling heavy from a restless night. As you rubbed your eyes and reached for your phone, the missed calls and messages from Jensen were the first thing you noticed. Your chest tightened as you scrolled through, rereading his words:

“This isn’t what it looks like. Please, call me as soon as you wake up. I swear, there’s nothing between us. I love you. I’ll explain everything”.

Despite his reassurances, doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind. How could he explain a picture like that? No matter how much you trusted him, seeing him and Danneel together—naked in a hot tub, no less—felt like a punch to the gut. You needed to hear his voice, needed him to tell you this was some cruel misunderstanding.

You quickly dialed his number, the ringing in your ear feeling like a countdown to answers you weren’t sure you were ready for. But instead of Jensen’s familiar voice, you were met with his voicemail. You tried again, your anxiety climbing higher with each unanswered call.

By the third attempt, you sat back on the couch, your phone still clutched in your hand. Jensen wasn’t picking up, and the hollow ache in your chest grew stronger. Little did you know, he had finally succumbed to the exhaustion that had been dragging at him, having stayed up for hours after his night shoot, waiting for your call. His phone was sitting untouched on the nightstand beside him as he slept deeply.

You stared at your phone, debating whether to leave a message. The weight of your emotions made it hard to think clearly. A part of you wanted to lash out, to demand answers, but another part of you just wanted to cry. Instead, you put the phone down, wrapping your arms around your knees as you tried to steady your breathing.

The room felt too quiet, the silence amplifying every doubt and fear in your mind. Jensen’s reassurances in his message had sounded so genuine, but the image of him and Danneel wouldn’t leave your mind. You hated feeling like this—unsure, insecure, questioning the foundation of a relationship that had always felt so solid.

You curled up on the couch, pulling the blanket over you as you tried to gather your thoughts. You knew you needed to talk to him, but the uncertainty of what you’d hear when you finally connected weighed heavily on you.

The day felt like an endless tug-of-war, each missed connection with Jensen adding to the gnawing anxiety in your chest. Every time he called, you missed it—whether you were in the shower, in the bathroom, or distracted with mundane tasks. Each time you tried to call him back, he was on set, his phone tucked away as he filmed.

It was frustrating, the space between you growing wider with every missed opportunity to connect. But what truly broke you was the message from the unknown number—one that cut through your fragile resolve like a knife:

“You think he’s faithful to you when he wasn’t with me? Don’t fool yourself. Stop being a stupid little girl”.

The words stared back at you from the screen, venomous and cruel. Your stomach twisted, and your hands trembled as you reread the message. It was the same number that had sent the photo, and while you didn’t know who it belonged to, the implication was clear: someone wanted to hurt you. And worse, a part of you couldn’t ignore the nagging fear that it might be true.

The nausea returned with a vengeance, twisting your stomach into knots as the cruel message replayed in your mind. No matter how hard you tried to push it away, it lingered, poisoning your thoughts with doubt and insecurity. By the evening, you found yourself hunched over the toilet, your body trembling as you emptied your stomach yet again. The violent retching left you gasping for breath, your hands clutching the cool porcelain for support.

Tears streamed down your face, a mix of physical exhaustion and emotional turmoil. You hated how deeply it affected you, hated how a few words from an anonymous number could unravel your sense of security. The image of the photo—the hot tub, the laughter, the closeness—was seared into your mind, feeding your worst fears.

By the time the sickness subsided, you were shaking, your body weak and your mind heavy with despair. You leaned back against the bathroom wall, your knees pulled to your chest as you tried to steady your breathing. The house felt too quiet, too empty, amplifying the ache in your chest.

Your phone buzzed from the counter, the sound startling in the silence. You hesitated, reaching for it with trembling hands. The screen lit up with Jensen’s name, and your heart skipped a beat. He was trying again.

You stared at it for a moment, torn between answering and letting it go to voicemail. Eventually, you pressed the green button, your voice hoarse as you whispered, “Yeah?”.

“Baby”, Jensen’s voice came through, filled with relief and urgency. “Finally. I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Are you okay?”.

The sound of his voice sent a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, and your throat tightened. “No”, you admitted, your voice breaking. “I’m not okay, Jensen. I don’t know how to be okay right now”.

His sigh was heavy, his frustration with himself clear.

"I swear, that picture isn’t real”, Jensen said urgently, his voice tinged with panic. “Well, I mean—it is, but it’s not what it looks like. It’s not what you think, baby. You have to believe me”.

You closed your eyes tightly, tears slipping down your cheeks as you shook your head even though he couldn’t see you. “Jensen, I don’t even know what to believe anymore”, you sobbed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “It hurts. It hurts so much”.

The sound of your crying broke something in him, and his voice softened, though the desperation was still there. “Don’t say that”, he murmured. “Please don’t say that. I love you. I love you so much, and I would never hurt you like this—not on purpose”.

Your grip on the phone tightened as another wave of tears overcame you. “Then why does it feel like you did?”, you choked out, the pain in your chest almost unbearable. “Why do I feel like I’m just… some stupid little girl, like that message said?”.

Jensen let out a string of curses under his breath, his frustration clear. “That message? That’s not me. That’s not us. That’s Danneel trying to mess with your head. She sent that picture, and I know she sent that message too. She’s trying to ruin what we have because she’s bitter, but it’s not true, baby. None of it is true”.

His words were rushed, almost frantic, and you could hear how much this was tearing him apart. But your mind was a storm of doubt, the image of that photo and the cruel words from the message replaying over and over.

“Then why were you even in that situation?”, you demanded, your voice shaky but laced with a flicker of anger. “Why did it happen in the first place? Do you know what it’s like, sitting here, alone, missing you, and then seeing that? Do you?”.

Jensen’s silence was deafening, and for a moment, you thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then his voice came through, raw and filled with regret. “No, I don’t”, he admitted quietly. “I don’t know what it’s like. But I know that I messed up. I let myself get caught in her bullshit, and it’s hurting you, and I hate it. I hate myself for it”.

Your sobs quieted slightly, your heart aching at the pain in his voice. “Jensen…”, you whispered, unsure of what to say.

“I’m coming home”, he said firmly, cutting you off. “I’ll get on the next flight, and I’ll explain everything to you in person. I need you to see my face when I tell you the truth, baby. Please let me come home and fix this”.

Your heart was racing, torn between the desire to believe Jensen and the lingering doubt clawing at your mind. Just as you were about to respond, you heard a voice in the background, faint but clear enough to interrupt the moment.

“Jensen!”, It was Antony, one of his co-stars. “They need you on set. Now”.

Jensen cursed under his breath, his frustration palpable even through the phone. “Shit”, he muttered, his voice strained. “Baby, I don’t want to hang up, but they’re calling me. I—”.

You cut him off, your voice raw and unsteady. “Go. Just go, Jensen. Do your job”.

He hesitated, clearly torn. “I don’t want to leave you like this”.

“You don’t have a choice, do you?”, you said bitterly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You immediately regretted the sharpness in your tone but didn’t correct yourself. “Just… do what you have to do”.

“Baby, please”, he pleaded, his voice softening. “Don’t let this fester. I’ll call you back as soon as I’m done. Or better yet, I’ll get on a plane tonight. I swear”.

The line went quiet for a moment as he waited for your response, but all you could manage was a quiet, “Okay”.

“I love you”, he said, the words carrying an almost desperate sincerity.

But you couldn’t say it back, not right now. The silence stretched, and before he could push further, Antony called his name again, more insistent this time.

“I have to go”, Jensen said reluctantly. “Please, just… hold on for me”.

You didn’t respond, and after a beat, the line went dead. The sound of the call ending left an emptiness that felt even heavier than before. You stared at your phone, the quiet around you amplifying every ache in your chest.

For the rest of the day, you felt trapped in limbo, unable to focus on anything. Every time your phone buzzed, your heart jumped, only to sink again when it wasn’t Jensen. The mix of anger, sadness, and doubt churned in you, making it impossible to find peace.

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to. But the picture, the message—it was too much. And now, with him gone again, all you could do was wait.

The next morning, the nausea clung to you like a persistent shadow, leaving you drained and barely able to move. Each step to the bathroom felt like a marathon, and the cycle of weakness, tiredness, and hurt seemed unending. Your emotions were already raw, and the physical toll only made everything feel heavier.

Every moment, you expected to hear the door open, to see Jensen standing there with an apology and an explanation. But the house remained quiet, save for the occasional hum of your phone vibrating with notifications that weren’t from him.

When you finally managed to drag yourself back to bed, curling up under the covers in a futile attempt to find comfort, your phone buzzed again. It was from Jensen, and the brief flicker of hope in your chest vanished as you opened the message:

“I’ve tried everything, but I can’t come. They need me in Toronto for two more weeks. I’ll call you tonight—I promise”.

The words blurred in your vision as tears welled up again. Two more weeks. It felt like a lifetime, especially after the emotional storm of the past few days. The hurt twisted in your chest, mingling with a sense of defeat. He wasn’t coming, and the hollow ache of his absence felt unbearable.

You threw your phone onto the bedside table, burying your face into the pillow as your body shook with silent sobs. His promise to call that night was little solace. The distance between you wasn’t just physical anymore—it felt emotional, a canyon growing wider with every unanswered question and missed reassurance.

Hours passed in a haze, the nausea keeping you pinned to the bed as the weight of everything pressed down on you. The day dragged on endlessly, the hours punctuated only by your occasional trips to the bathroom. Each time you returned to bed, the ache in your chest seemed heavier.

When night fell, you stared at your phone, waiting for it to ring. You wanted answers, explanations, anything that could ease the turmoil inside you. But as the minutes stretched into hours, the phone remained silent.

You were too tired to cry anymore. Curling up under the covers, you closed your eyes, your heart heavy as sleep finally claimed you, though it offered no escape from the pain.

Even though Jensen rarely left voice messages, you woke up around midnight to see a notification: a voicemail from him. Your heart raced as you played it, his familiar, exhausted voice filling the quiet room.

“Hey, baby”, he began, his tone heavy with fatigue. “I’m so sorry, but things are absolutely crazy here on set. We’ve had delays all day, and I can’t call tonight. I know you’re upset with me, and I promise we’ll talk soon. I just need you to hang on a little longer. I love you”.

It was the kind of message that would’ve reassured you once—but not now. Not after the past few days of being pushed aside, ignored, and left in the dark. First, the lack of calls or texts. Then the picture and message that shattered your trust. And now, this—another excuse, another delay.

Your emotions surged, the hurt and frustration boiling over into something you could no longer suppress. Gripping your phone tightly, you opened your messages and typed out the words before you could second-guess yourself:

“It’s alright, Jensen. Maybe a little break is what we need right now. See you in two weeks”.

Your thumb hovered over the send button for a moment, doubt creeping in. But the anger and exhaustion won out, and you pressed it, the message sending in an instant.

As the seconds ticked by, the weight of your decision began to settle in. You set the phone down on the nightstand, staring up at the ceiling as your chest tightened. For now, this felt like the only way to protect yourself from the rollercoaster of emotions he’d put you through. You needed space—space to think, to breathe, and maybe even to figure out if this relationship was truly as solid as you’d believed.

Curling up under the covers, you willed yourself to sleep, though your mind refused to quiet. You didn’t know how Jensen would react, or if he’d even respond, but for now, the ball was in his court.

The next few days passed in a blur of unanswered calls and unread messages from Jensen. His texts ranged from concerned to apologetic, to downright pleading, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Every time your phone buzzed, it only added to the weight in your chest.

It wasn’t just the unrelenting nausea that kept you from answering—though that was bad enough. It was the fear of hearing yet another excuse or promise that would inevitably fall short. You felt raw, drained, and utterly unprepared to face his voice or explanations. And then, another fear began creeping in: you couldn’t remember the last time you’d eaten a proper meal. Over the past week, everything you tried to eat came right back up. You were weak, shaky, and desperate for answers.

So today, you dragged yourself to the doctor’s office, clutching the straps of your bag tightly as you sat in the waiting room. You’d convinced yourself that the stress had finally caught up with you, wreaking havoc on your stomach. Maybe some pills could calm it down. Maybe you just needed something to numb everything you were feeling.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)?”, the nurse called out, her voice drawing your attention. You stood slowly, your legs unsteady beneath you as you followed her into the exam room.

The doctor entered shortly after, a kind, older man who listened intently as you explained your symptoms. He nodded along, jotting down notes on his clipboard.

“Well”, he said, closing the file and looking up at you with a calm expression, “it sounds like there could be a few things going on here. But before we jump to conclusions, let’s run some tests to rule out anything serious”.

You nodded, your hands clasped tightly in your lap as they drew blood and asked for a urine sample.

The doctor’s words were calm and reassuring as he handed you a small pamphlet about managing stress-related nausea, though his advice to rest and eat light foods felt almost impossible to follow. He mentioned the test results would be ready in two days, and you could return to discuss them. You nodded along, thanking him softly before leaving the office with heavy steps.

When you reached your car, you slid into the driver’s seat and pulled out your phone to set a reminder for the follow-up appointment. As you scrolled through your calendar to select the date, something stopped you cold: little red dots marking the weeks of your cycle—or rather, the lack of them. Your heart stuttered as the realization hit you.

You hadn’t marked your last period.

Not this month.

Not even the month before.

Your mind raced as you counted backward, piecing together the timeline. Stress, nausea, exhaustion - it all clicked into place like a puzzle you hadn’t even realized you were solving.

You stared at your phone screen, the glaring absence of those little red dots sending your mind spinning. For a moment, you just sat there, frozen, as the weight of the realization settled over you. Then, to your own surprise, a laugh bubbled up from your chest—sharp, bitter, and disbelieving.

“This has to be a fucking joke”, you muttered to yourself, shaking your head as the laugh turned into something closer to hysteria. Your life already felt like a bad movie, but this? This was beyond absurd.

Pregnant? No. Absolutely not. That wasn’t even possible.

Jensen had told you about his vasectomy years ago. He’d said it with a shrug, explaining how he’d made the decision after his third child. “Snipped and done”.

So what the hell was this?

Your stomach churned, and for once, you weren’t sure if it was the nausea or the panic clawing at you. You gripped the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles turning white as you tried to rationalize what was happening. Maybe you’d miscounted your cycles. Maybe the stress had thrown off your hormones. Maybe the nausea was some weird lingering bug that had nothing to do with this.

You bit your lip, your mind racing as you tried to shake the persistent thought of pregnancy. It wasn’t logical. It couldn’t be true. And yet, the idea clung to you like a bad dream, refusing to let go. Every rational argument you came up with was met with that same nagging doubt.

“Against all odds”, you muttered to yourself bitterly. “Just my fucking luck”.

In a trance-like state, you started the car and drove to the nearest pharmacy. The familiar streets blurred around you as your thoughts spiraled, replaying every moment that could have brought you to this point. By the time you pulled into the parking lot, your hands were trembling on the wheel.

You didn’t get out right away. Instead, you sat there, staring at the bright pharmacy sign glowing in the distance. Your stomach churned with nerves, a fresh wave of nausea rolling over you as you considered the possibility. It was ridiculous. Impossible. And yet, here you were.

As you leaned your head back against the seat, your phone buzzed next to you. The screen lit up with Jensen’s name, and your heart clenched. He was trying again. Another call, another chance to hear his voice, to let him explain, to maybe find some comfort in the chaos.

But instead of answering, you let it ring. The sound seemed to echo in the confined space of the car, each buzz pulling at your already raw emotions. You couldn’t do it. Not right now. Not until you had answers for yourself.

When the call ended, you stared at the phone for a long moment before finally stepping out of the car. The cold air hit you, jolting you slightly as you headed inside. You moved through the store quickly, avoiding eye contact as you grabbed a couple of pregnancy tests and made your way to the register. The cashier barely looked at you, and you were grateful for their indifference.

Back in the car, the bag felt heavy in your lap as you sat in silence. Your chest felt tight, your breath shaky as you realized there was no turning back now. Whatever the result, you needed to know.

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles pale as you took a deep, shaky breath. It’s just the stress, you told yourself. Jensen can’t make babies. He had a vasectomy, for fuck´s sake. This is all in my head.

Repeating those words like a mantra, you started the car and began the drive home.

The drive felt longer than usual, your thoughts spinning with every mile. You thought of Jensen, his laughter, the way he’d always reassured you when you were overthinking. But now, it felt like there was a wall between you, built by the distance, the missed calls, the photo, and now this unbearable uncertainty.

It’s just stress, you repeated silently. It has to be.

By the time you pulled into your driveway, your nerves were frayed, but you felt a faint flicker of determination. You gathered the bag, clutching it tightly as you made your way inside. You dropped your purse near the door and headed straight to the bathroom, closing the door behind you and locking it with a resolute click.

You placed the boxes on the counter, staring at them for a moment before letting out a deep sigh. “Let’s just get this over with”, you muttered to yourself, opening one packaging and reading the instructions. Despite your shaky hands, you managed to follow the steps, setting the test down on the counter as you sat back on the edge of the bathtub, waiting.

The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. You tried to calm your racing heart, reminding yourself again and again that the odds were impossible. Jensen couldn’t make babies. You were just overwhelmed, and dealing with too much at once.

But even as you told yourself that, you couldn’t shake the weight of doubt pressing down on your chest.

Finally, the timer on your phone buzzed softly, jolting you out of your thoughts. You stared at the test lying face down on the counter, your heart pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears. For a long moment, you couldn’t move, your hands gripping the edge of the counter to steady yourself.

It’s impossible. It’s just the stress, you repeated in your mind, but the words felt hollow now. Every second you hesitated made the tension in your chest grow tighter, the air in the bathroom feeling impossibly thick.

Finally, with trembling fingers, you reached for the test, the plastic cool against your skin as you turned it over. The small screen blinked back at you, and for a moment, your brain refused to process what you were seeing.

Two lines.

The world tilted for a moment, your breath catching as you stared at the unmistakable result. Two lines. Pregnant.

“No”, you whispered, shaking your head as if that could change the outcome. “No, that’s not… that’s not possible”.

But the test didn’t waver. The reality of it stared back at you, unflinching and undeniable.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the other tests, ripping open the packages with shaky fingers. It has to be wrong, you thought desperately, your mind racing. It’s just stress, or a faulty test. It has to be.

One by one, you followed the instructions, your breath shallow and your pulse pounding in your ears. You lined up the tests on the counter, each of them a small, silent judge waiting to deliver their verdict.

Time dragged as you waited, staring at the row of tests like they held the power to decide your future. Finally, the seconds ticked down, and you turned the first test over. Then the second. The third.

By the time all five were turned, you were staring at ten lines total, their meaning unmistakable. Pregnant. Every single one.

You bit your lip, still frozen in place, unable to process what you were seeing. A hollow laugh bubbled up in your throat, escaping despite yourself. “This can’t be real”, you whispered, shaking your head as you gripped the edge of the counter for support. “It’s… it’s not possible”.

But the lines staring back at you didn’t waver. The room felt too quiet, the weight of the truth pressing down on you like a lead blanket.

Your stomach churned, the nausea threatening to rise again, but you pushed it down, focusing on the tests in front of you. Ten lines. Five tests. There was no escaping it now.

You’re pregnant.

And you had no idea what to do next.

The silence in the room grew heavier as another thought crept into your mind, one you didn’t want to entertain but couldn’t shake.

Maybe Jensen lied about the vasectomy.

You frowned, staring at the tests again as if they might suddenly change their verdict.

And while you were sure Jensen loved his kids more than anything, he’d always been so adamant about not wanting more. That was part of the reason you’d never really worried about this happening. He was certain. He was done. Wasn’t he?

Your mind spiraled, each question leading to another. Had he lied? It didn’t seem like him to do that.

You shook your head, cutting off the whirlwind of thoughts. No. Jensen wasn’t the kind of man to lie about something like that. He was too honest, sometimes to a fault. But then what?

Your stomach twisted again, not just from the nausea but from the fear and uncertainty clawing at you. The picture, the message, the distance between you and Jensen lately—it all felt like it was piling on top of this new revelation, threatening to crush you.

You needed answers, but the thought of calling Jensen felt impossible right now. If he had lied, what then? If he hadn’t, how did this happen?

What the hell are you going to do?

You sank onto the bathroom floor, your back against the wall, staring at the line of positive tests on the counter. For the first time in days, the tears didn’t come. You were too overwhelmed, too numb to cry. You didn’t know what to feel—only that your world had just shifted in a way you never could have expected.

On set, Jensen was a shadow of his usual self. He’d always been the kind of actor who could compartmentalize—focus entirely on the work, leaving whatever was going on in his personal life at the door. But today, it was like that ability had completely deserted him.

He fumbled his lines repeatedly, missing his cues and breaking character in ways that were completely uncharacteristic of him. Every mistake earned him a concerned look from the director, but he brushed off the quiet questions with a muttered, “Sorry, long night”, or a vague excuse about being under the weather.

Inside, though, he was spiraling.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you—not just your silence, but the fear that had settled deep in his chest. Jensen had never felt panic like this before. You weren’t just upset; you were shutting him out completely. No matter how many times he called or texted, there was no response. And after the message he’d left last night, he thought he’d hear from you by now.

He wasn’t used to this kind of uncertainty, and it terrified him. The possibility of losing you—of pushing you so far away that he couldn’t fix it—felt unbearable.

“Jensen”, the assistant director, called gently, bringing him back to the moment. “Let’s take it from the top. Just take a breath, man”.

Jensen nodded stiffly, running a hand through his hair as he forced himself to focus. He tried to shake it off, to dig into the professionalism he’d relied on for so many years, but the second the scene started again, his mind wandered.

Are you okay? Are you still upset? Are you—

“Cut!”, the director called, exasperated but still trying to be patient. “Jensen, man, what’s going on? This isn’t like you”.

Jensen exhaled heavily, rubbing the back of his neck as he struggled to come up with an answer. He couldn’t tell them the truth—that he was one text away from completely unraveling.

“I just—”, he started, but the words wouldn’t come. He shook his head and muttered, “Give me five”.

Without waiting for permission, he walked off set, grabbing his jacket and pulling his phone out of the pocket. He stared at the screen, willing it to light up with a message from you, something—anything—to break the silence. But there was nothing.

He hovered over your name in his contacts, his thumb brushing over the call button, but he hesitated. If you weren’t answering, it was because you didn’t want to talk to him. And the thought of that hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Damn it”, he muttered, leaning heavily against the wall. He wasn’t used to feeling this helpless, and it was driving him to the brink.

As the afternoon crept on, your phone buzzed persistently with calls. Each time Jensen’s name lit up the screen, it was like another weight pressing against your chest. You’d ignored him for days, but his relentless attempts to reach you began to chip away at your resolve. By the fifth call in a row, you sighed heavily, your fingers trembling as you finally answered.

“Hey”, your voice came out quieter and shakier than you’d intended, but it was all you could manage.

There was a beat of silence on the other end, followed by the sound of Jensen’s breath hitching. “Baby”, he said, his voice full of relief but also thick with worry. “Thank God. I’ve been losing my mind. Why haven’t you been answering? Are you okay?”.

The sound of his voice, so familiar yet distant, sent a pang through your chest. For the first time, it felt foreign to you—like the voice of someone you no longer knew. The days of silence, the picture, the cruel message, the endless nausea, and now the impossible test results… it was all too much.

“I’m fine”, you said flatly, the words automatic. But they weren’t true, and you knew he could tell.

“Fine?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “I know you´re not.Talk to me”.

You hesitated, gripping the phone tighter as your emotions warred within you. Part of you wanted to tell him everything—to lay it all out and demand answers. But another part of you felt so detached, so unsure of where you even stood, that the thought of opening up to him felt impossible.

“I’m just… tired”, you said finally, your voice cracking slightly. “It’s been a lot, Jensen. I don’t know…”.

He cut you off, his voice tinged with desperation. “Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out. Please, baby. I know I’ve messed up. I know I haven’t been there the way I should’ve been, but I swear to you, I’m trying to fix it”.

His words should have soothed you, but they only made the ache in your chest worse. “It feels like all you do is promise things”, you said softly, your tone bitter despite your attempt to keep it neutral. “But nothing ever changes".

“That’s not true”, he argued, his voice raising slightly in frustration. “I’ve been trying, trying to come home, but the timing’s been—”.

“Terrible?”, you interjected. “Yeah, Jensen. It’s been terrible. For me. For us. And I don’t even know if there’s an ‘us’ anymore”.

The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of your words hanging in the air. When Jensen finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “What are you saying?”, he asked, his tone raw and broken.

Your grip on the phone tightened as you struggled to hold back tears. “I don’t know”, you admitted, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what I’m saying, Jensen. I just… I don’t know how to feel right now”.

The vulnerability in your voice seemed to knock the wind out of him. “(Y/N)”, he whispered, his voice full of pain, “whatever this is, we can figure it out. Please, don’t give up on me. On us”.

Hearing his voice crack sent fresh tears streaming down your face, but you stayed silent, unsure of what to say. For the first time, you weren’t sure if there was anything left to say.

Jensen’s voice broke through the heavy silence, softer now, laced with raw emotion. “You know it’s been Danneel”, he whispered, his tone pleading but also tinged with hurt. “She’s trying to destroy us. She’s done it before, and now she’s doing it again. Why would you doubt me so easily?”.

His words hit you like a weight, and you felt your chest tighten further. You closed your eyes, leaning against the wall as your grip on the phone tightened. You wanted to believe him—you really did. But everything about the past few days had left you feeling fragile, unmoored, and unsure of what to trust.

“It’s not that easy”, you murmured, your voice barely audible. “I saw the picture, Jensen. I read the message. And you weren’t here to explain. It’s been days. How was I supposed to feel?”.

Jensen exhaled sharply on the other end, his frustration barely contained. “You were supposed to trust me”, he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve never lied to you. Not about us, not about anything. Why would I start now? Why would I risk everything we have for… for her?”.

“I don’t know”, you whispered, the tears in your throat making it hard to speak. “I don’t know what to believe anymore”.

“Believe me”, he said firmly, his voice cracking with desperation. “Please, baby. You’re all I care about. Danneel’s just trying to get in your head. You can’t let her win. Don’t let her take this away from us”.

Your tears spilled over again, your heart aching at the raw pain in his voice. You knew Jensen wasn’t someone who let his emotions show easily, and hearing him like this only added to the storm inside you.

“I want to”, you admitted, your voice trembling. “I want to believe you so badly. But I feel so… lost, Jensen. Everything feels like it’s falling apart”.

“It’s not”, he whispered, his voice steadying slightly. “We’re not falling apart. I’m here, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to you. Please”.

“I don’t know what to do”, you said softly, almost to yourself.

Jensen’s voice came through the line, gentle but resolute. “You don’t have to do anything. Just… let me come home and fix this. Let me prove to you that I’m telling the truth”.

Jensen's voice softened, his tone pleading yet firm. "I’ll be home tomorrow. And we’ll talk, alright? I’ll explain everything—what happened in that picture, why it looked like that, and why the fuck I would never cheat on you. Especially not after buying a fucking house for us”.

As his words grew sharper toward the end, his voice cracked slightly, frustration and anger bleeding through. Before you could respond, he hung up abruptly, leaving you staring at your phone in stunned silence.

The sound of the call ending felt like a slap in the quiet room, and the weight of his last words lingered in the air. You could hear the raw emotion in his voice—his anger wasn’t just about the accusations but the sheer pain of hearing you doubt the foundation of your relationship.

You sank onto the couch in the living room, your head spinning. The way he’d hung up so quickly stung, but the guilt gnawed at you too. You hadn’t meant to say the words that hurt him so much. I don’t even know if there’s an us left. The second they’d slipped from your mouth, you’d wanted to take them back, but the damage was done. And it had clearly hit him harder than either of you had anticipated.

Now, all you could do was wait for tomorrow to come and hope that somehow, this conversation would bring clarity instead of tearing you apart further.

Meanwhile, on Jensen’s end, he slammed his phone onto the bed with more force than he intended. His chest heaved as he paced the room, running his hands through his hair in frustration. Your words replayed in his mind, cutting deeper every time. I don’t even know if there’s an us left.

“Fuck”, he muttered, his voice barely audible as he sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. His hands cradled his face as he tried to steady his breathing. The idea of losing you—of everything you’d built together slipping away—was unbearable.

The next day couldn’t come fast enough for him. For now, all he could do was cling to the hope that he’d be able to fix this when he saw you. And that you’d still be willing to let him try.

The next day began the same way the last few had: with your stomach rebelling against you. You knelt over the toilet, weak and exhausted, your body trembling from the effort. By the time the nausea passed, you were too drained to do anything but sit on the bathroom floor for a few moments, letting the cool tiles press against your skin.

Eventually, you made your way to the kitchen. The clock on the wall read just past noon, and you realized you hadn’t eaten anything substantial in days. You poured yourself a small bowl of oats, hoping something plain and gentle might stay down. You managed two spoonfuls before your stomach churned violently again, the sensation threatening but not enough to send you rushing back to the bathroom.

You pushed the bowl aside, leaning back in your chair with a hand resting on your stomach. The restlessness gnawed at you, a mix of nerves and the undeniable physical discomfort that had become your new normal. You glanced at the clock again, the minutes dragging impossibly slow as you waited for Jensen’s arrival.

The thought of facing him made your chest tighten. There were so many things to say, questions to ask, but you weren’t sure where to start. Could you even bring yourself to tell him about the tests? About what those two lines meant? Would he even believe you, after the accusations and the growing distance?

———————————

A/N: Well, there we go, lol. Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 37

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Taglist: @cheynovak @chriszgirl92 @jenniferr0323 @angelbabyyy99 @cevansbaby-dove @muhahaha303 @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @viviandarkbloom06 @jassackles @evasmlp @acklesaddict67 @mostlymarvelgirl @emma1998sblog @mishaesque @headinthemoon87 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @impala67rollingthroughtown @manicjk @kr804573 @zaratahir @djs8891 @winchesterwild78 @jamerlynn @whimsyfinny @libby99hb @deansimpalababy @deans-queen @kawaii-arfid-memes @faephoria @stoneyggirl2 @fitxgrld @luvr4miya @yikeschoices @lyssalvus @soab1967 @luvr4miya @didi0666 @impala67rollingthroughtown @cheekygirl2309 @kamisobsessed @deansimpalababy @magnificientgirl @ @dulcescorderitas

[ramservices1]

5 Signs Your Geyser Needs Professional Servicing: How to Prevent Major Issues

Your geyser is an essential home appliance, especially during colder months when hot water becomes a necessity. However, like any other appliance, your geyser requires regular maintenance to function properly. Ignoring the signs your geyser needs servicing can lead to costly repairs or even total breakdowns. At Ram Services and Sales, we prioritize maintaining the health of your geyser to ensure it works efficiently and safely. In this guide, we’ll cover five critical signs of geyser problems and how you can prevent major issues through regular maintenance and professional inspections.

Signs Your Geyser Needs Servicing: Why Geyser Maintenance Matters

Routine water heater maintenance is key to preventing breakdowns, ensuring safety, and maintaining energy efficiency. A neglected geyser can lead to a range of problems, from inefficient heating to more serious concerns like leaks or electrical issues. Being aware of the signs your geyser needs servicing can help you address problems before they become serious, saving you both time and money.

1. Inconsistent or No Hot Water

One of the most obvious signs your geyser needs servicing is inconsistent water temperature or a complete lack of hot water. If your water heater is struggling to maintain a steady temperature, it may be an indication of several underlying issues:

Sediment Buildup: Over time, minerals and sediment can accumulate at the bottom of your geyser, reducing its ability to heat water effectively.

Faulty Thermostat: A malfunctioning thermostat could cause temperature fluctuations or prevent the geyser from heating water at all.

Worn-Out Heating Element: The heating element in your geyser might be worn out and unable to function efficiently.

If you notice these geyser malfunction symptoms, it’s time to call Ram Services and Sales for a professional inspection. Addressing these issues early on can prevent a complete system breakdown.

2. Strange Noises Coming from the Geyser

Unusual noises coming from your water heater are another critical sign your geyser needs servicing. Geysers generally operate quietly, so any banging, popping, or rumbling noises should not be ignored. These sounds are often caused by geyser efficiency issues such as:

Sediment Buildup: As sediment settles at the bottom of the tank, it hardens and causes the heating element to work harder, which leads to popping or banging sounds.

Air Pockets: Trapped air in the system can cause strange noises as the water is heated.

Ignoring these warning signs for geyser repair can lead to further damage, including leaks or complete failure of the system. A professional service from Ram Services and Sales can diagnose and resolve these issues before they escalate.

3. Water Discoloration or Rust

If you notice discolored or rusty water coming from your geyser, this is a clear sign of geyser problems. Water discoloration is often a symptom of corrosion inside the water tank or pipes. Common causes include:

Rusting Tank: A rusty tank may be nearing the end of its life and could soon start leaking.

Corroded Anode Rod: The anode rod inside the geyser is designed to attract corrosive elements and prevent them from damaging the tank. However, over time, the rod itself can corrode and may need replacement.

Regular geyser service requirements, such as checking the anode rod, can prevent rust and prolong the life of your geyser. If you see rusty water, it’s time to contact Ram Services and Sales for an immediate inspection.

Continue Reading: https://ramservicesandsales.com/2024/11/22/signs-your-geyser-needs-servicing/

[brockyselectrical]

Switchboard Upgrades: Enhancing Electrical Safety and Efficiency

Your switchboard is the heart of your home or business's electrical system, distributing power to every outlet, light, and appliance. Over time, as electrical demands increase, outdated switchboards can struggle to keep up, posing safety risks and inefficiencies. This is where switchboard upgrades come in, a critical service to ensure your electrical system is safe, compliant, and capable of handling modern energy needs.

Why Upgrade Your Switchboard?

Increased Safety Older switchboards often lack the advanced safety features of modern systems, such as residual current devices (RCDs) or circuit breakers. These devices provide essential protection against electrical faults, reducing the risk of fires, electrocution, and property damage. Upgrading ensures your switchboard meets today’s stringent safety standards.

Handle Increased Electrical Demand With the proliferation of appliances, electronics, and energy-efficient solutions like solar panels, your electrical system may need more capacity than your old switchboard can provide. A switchboard upgrade ensures your system can handle current and future energy demands without overloads or interruptions.

Compliance with Regulations Electrical standards evolve over time. An outdated switchboard might not comply with current regulations, especially in older homes or commercial buildings. Upgrading your switchboard brings your property up to code, giving you peace of mind and protecting you from potential legal and insurance complications.

Cost Savings and Energy Efficiency A modern switchboard operates more efficiently, reducing unnecessary energy consumption. Additionally, by preventing frequent electrical issues, you save on repair costs and minimize downtime in your home or business.

Signs You Need a Switchboard Upgrade

Frequent circuit breaker trips or blown fuses.

Flickering lights or fluctuating power.

Warm or sparking power outlets.

An outdated system using ceramic fuses instead of modern circuit breakers.

Planning renovations, installing heavy appliances, or adding solar power.

If any of these sound familiar, it’s time to consider an upgrade.

Why Choose Brockys Electrical?

At Brockys Electrical, we specialize in high-quality switchboard upgrades tailored to your specific needs. Our team of licensed electricians is experienced in upgrading switchboards for homes, offices, and industrial facilities. We focus on safety, efficiency, and seamless integration with your current electrical setup.

Here’s why customers trust Brockys Electrical:

Expertise and Compliance: All work adheres to Australian electrical standards.

Transparent Pricing: Upfront quotes with no hidden fees.

Quick Turnaround: Minimizing disruption to your daily routine.

Comprehensive Service: We assess your electrical system, recommend the best solution, and perform a flawless upgrade.

Upgrade Today for a Safer Tomorrow

Don’t let an outdated switchboard compromise your safety and efficiency. Contact Brockys Electrical today to schedule a consultation. Our friendly team will assess your needs and provide a cost-effective solution that ensures your electrical system is ready for the future.

Call us now or visit our website to book your switchboard upgrade. Let Brockys Electrical keep your power flowing safely and efficiently!

[certainempatheticturkeymuffin]

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) asking 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

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[alovelyfrenchworld]

Your Neighborly Orc Part 3

Gûruk carrying you home stayed in your mind for the rest of the day.

Sore from your fall, you decided a hot bath would be best. You were going to have to face the unfortunate consequences on your clumsiness.

It really had to be when someone could see, didn't it?

Boiling some water in a cauldron over the fire, you prepped everything you would need. Scrambling through your cabinet in the bathroom, you decided on a rosehip oil and some dried lavender to add to your bath for maximum comfort. Your drying cloth was hanging over the edge of the tub, scented with rose soap.

Your aching, bruising muscles were dying to get into a tub of comfort.

The boiling water was dumped into the wooden tub and you watched as the steam overtook your quaint bathroom. The rosehip oil and dried lavdender petals added a calming aroma.

The water burned for a moment as you got in, but it quickly turned into an embracing warmth that allowed you to relieve the tension you had felt.

Quickly, your weariness caught up to you and you dozed off in the comforting embrace of the warm, aromatic water. But, in your half-conscious state, you were startled by sudden noises outside. Your cat trilled outside the bathroom door, the horse gave a short neigh, and the chickens bawked. Concerned by the uproar, you quickly got out of the tub and threw on a shift and a robe.

You walked towards the noise, opening your front door fervently. What you did not expect was to be greeted by Gûruk standing on your porch, hammer in hand.

"Oh!" you exclaimed.

Realizing your fear, Gûruk immediately began to apologize.

"I am so sorry for frightening you. I just -" he paused, a small blush creeping across his lips as he got quieter. "Wanted to help..."

He gestured over to the front of your stables where your repaired wagon sat. No more broken wheel. And sitting on the porch was a stack of firewood that almost reached the ceiling of the awning.

"After your fall," Gûruk cleared his throat harshly before continuing. "I was worried about your provisions. Then I saw some things were broken and I didn't want you to further your injuries if you decided to, you know, fix anything."

The orc was clearly frazzled. It was and a bit unsettling that he had come by presumably and unannounced, but you could tell that there was no ill intent.

"Thank you, Gûruk." you gave him a soft smile.

He glanced at your more compromised state and wet hair, clearly noting you were fresh from a bath.

"Gods, forgive me!" He turned away quickly, moving his gaze towards his feet. "I did not mean to put you in an unladylike position."

You looked down at your attire and shrugged.

"Hardly anything ladylike about me. Besides, it is I who came out upon my own free will. You have not put in any position that I have consented to." Hoping to ease his embarassment, you placed a gentle hand on his very muscular forearm.

The contact sent a chill down your spine, almost as if a spark was sent through your nervous system. Gûruk must have felt the same as he briefly tensed at the contact before relaxing into your hand.

"How can I thank you for your help? You've already done so much for me and I have yet to repay any favors." You asked, genuinely.

"I would ask nothing from you. I did what I did because I wanted to. Besides, you are injured. I highly doubt you came from that fall uninjured." He was worried. You hardly knew each other and yet this man, this orc, who most everyone would assume was a warmongering brute, was worried about you.

"Your words are kind, Gûruk, but please, let me do something in return. Supper, perhaps?" You gestured toward your front door, hinting at his possible staying.

"As are yours, Y/N, but I would not intrude on a lady's home." The rejection stung, but you understood. He had no obligation to accept.

"Again, I am no lady." You took a step closer to him, having to tilt your head up completely to make eye contact with him. His height was tremendous, at least 7 feet. "I am merely a woman. My status is low at best, but a lady I could never be."

"A woman to me is a lady. You would be deserving such a title." He made intense eye contact with you, but retracted quickly when he realized it. "I must be going, Y/N. My tribe will be needing me."

He walked down the steps of the porch, but turned his head back to speak. "I would very much like to sup with you."

You perked up quickly. You smiled at him hopefully. "Really?"

"Not tonight," he huffed. "But, I think I can make an exception tomorrow evening. I can make an excuse for my men to let me go for a few hours. Is there a time that works best for you?"

He was now completely facing you, giving you his full attention.

Shyly, you wondered, "When do orcs normally dine?"

Gûruk chuckled. "Whenever you would like."

He didn't quite smile, but his eyes seem to indicate that he wanted to. He was probably keeping up his strong facade you noticed he often uses. "7 o'clock, then. I'll make stew."

"7 it is then."

"Goodbye, Gûruk."

"Until tomorrow, Y/N."

With dinner plans settled, he walked off back into the woods towards his home. Until tomorrow.

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