#pouring some gripe water

[takoto]

i'm in the hell of my current special interest is my own OCs, which usually would be fantastic, but i'm also in the hell of [serious life things] which are draining my energy so i'm extremely in the mood to Consume Content (especially super emotional content) but I have multiple commissions and not much energy to create said content and I struggle with creating art with extremely emotional themes w/o getting very embarrassed and abandoning it quickly OTL

i keep on lamenting that i wish my brain had latched onto a fandom or something before this happened but i think i'm at the point where it's like. it is what it is , we just gotta deal with it. no use in thinking about "it'd be easier to [cope with emotions etc] if i had [xyz] to sink into" over and over again bc that isn't going to help anything

[rhymeswithhazel]

foundational memories suck so bad. I smell cigarette smoke when I'm hungover and feel wistful and melancholy. what kind of bullshit is that.

[sweet-evie]

A Piece of the Whole

A glimpse into the life of a single dad who's doing his best.

masterlist || pt 2

Content ⚠️: Established Relationship, afab!oc, fem!oc, nameless!oc, she/her/hers pronouns for Satoru's S/O, Tragedy, Childbirth, Maternal Death, Mentions of Blood, Angst, singleparent!gojo, dad!gojo

Never Grow Up Pt 1

May 5, 2012: Sanno Hospital

Throat tight and heart shattered, Satoru choked down the remainder of his grief and promised himself the luxury of breaking down when he was alone. He couldn’t do it now… Not here. Not in front of doctors who offered him sympathies. Not in front of Shoko who sat beside him with equally mournful eyes.

How would he even begin to tell Megumi and Tsumiki?

The latter was especially excited through the phone when he and his partner rushed to the emergency ward almost a full day ago when her water broke.

Almost as if she read his mind, Shoko laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “We should get things sorted out. Finish the paperwork and get the kids.”

Satoru swallowed around two mouthfuls of cotton balls and pushed his blackout sunglasses further up his nose — a sorry attempt at hiding how defeated he felt and how his eyes were full to bursting with unshed tears. It almost felt wrong to start moving again, as if the world hadn’t stopped turning the moment she took her last labored breath.

Logic told him this wasn’t the end… He was still Satoru Gojo — still the head of the Gojo clan, still saddled with the responsibility of instructing first year students at Jujutsu Tech, still needed to exterminate curses that cropped up too frequently for his liking. Being a father to a newborn was an added responsibility that he looked forward to for the past nine months and it was all because he had his Love by his side. He promised his lover and his would-be daughter his time and commitment, because if he couldn’t shoulder the burden of sheltering his baby in his own body and going through painful labor to deliver said baby into the world, then he would pour all his effort into taking care of the mother of his child and his new baby.

His Love did the work — uncomfortable, strenuous work that cost her her body image, her mental well-being on some especially hard days, and her general comfort.

What a woman…

What a woman she had been.

He’d asked her once why any woman would willingly do this to herself, knowing the possible complications, the risk, the changes, the toll, and she had smiled at him — amber eyes glinting in the afternoon light of the apartment they called ‘home’ — and told him that any woman who willingly went through pregnancy allowed it for different reasons. But for her, it was because—

“Loving her is loving a piece of you. And I love you wholly, Satoru.”

The strong smell of antiseptic brought him back from the memory he had been reminiscing about. The busy humdrum of a hospital outside the private room reminded him that his life might have ground to a halt, but others’ didn’t.

The Love of his life perished at the cost of delivering the baby she loved so much, and the world wouldn’t care.

“What do I tell her family?” Satoru mumbled, giving Shoko a verbal response at last.

“The truth. You can’t exactly hide it.”

Maybe he could get away with having his Mom deal with that. Their families had never been exceptionally close, but Satoru figured it was the least his mother could do after the woman had initially expressed her disapproval when they announced her pregnancy to his clan.

The main gripes had been the fact that she was not a sorcerer, they were not married, and his lover did not possess any sort of public influence that could benefit the Gojo clan.

Not that it mattered now…

His Love had passed away.

“At least her family would hate me enough not to bother with trying to file for custody. I don’t think they’d be happy about the baby either.”

“I doubt they’d be unhappy. It doesn’t matter if they do try to file, Gojo. Your parenting rights exceed theirs.”

“I know.”

Satoru stared at the empty bed and its flattened sheets. It looked too sterile — too clean. It was a far cry from the blood and the screaming and the smell of death that had permeated the room not too long ago. The smell and horrible aftertaste of death’s door was an all too familiar sensation to him unfortunately — especially after Megumi’s own father had brutalized him five years ago. He hated that his Love had to know what that was like before she succumbed to it.

“Have you met her yet?”

“Not yet.”

Regrettably, he hadn’t thought about the infant ever since he watched the light leave his Love’s eyes. She was the center of his world and truthfully, more important to him than a baby he barely knew. Of course he grieved her.

But now that Shoko brought it up, it added another horrible taste in his mouth. Just a month ago he’d felt so carefree as he laid beside his pregnant partner, shamelessly cooing and fawning over the unborn baby in her womb, making a show of how excited he was to be a dad, and already making plans to teach her plenty of things. Now his life flipped upside down at the onslaught of tragedy that befell his girlfriend.

The doctors had whisked his daughter away to the NICU to monitor her closely and provide care after the mother passed away near the end of delivery. The Love of his life didn’t even get to see her baby before she died… Didn’t even get the chance to speak her name so they could print it out in the tiny tags they kept around newborns’ wrists to identify them in the nursery.

Her last coherent words were impassioned pleas thrown out in the midst of her suffering, punctuated with labored breaths, gasps, and blood — so much blood that stained the white sheets pink and orange.

“Love her, Satoru. Promise me. Promise, please? Promise me. Love her. She needs you.”

Did she feel her own life slipping away? Was her strength sapped bit by bit with each gasp and strained scream? They’d taken her body to the morgue an hour ago, but he swore he could still feel her near bone-crushing grip on his fingers — regrettably a pathetic source of consolation during her labor. His words of whispered encouragement didn’t hold a candle to her pain and suffering. 

It couldn’t save her from rapid blood loss and cardiac arrest.

Pathetic…

The strongest sorcerer of the modern age — abundant in financial resources and political power, yet useless in the face of death and loss. This was his curse.

“It’s only been half an hour. Did the doctor say anything?”

“They might keep her there for the whole day or for weeks for all I know.”

“You should go see her.”

“I—”

Shoko’s tone was soft but firm as she reached out, squeezed his shoulder again, and made for the door. “I’ll come with you.”

=OoOoO=

Entering the neonatal unit was not as complicated as he first assumed. The entrance to the unit was armed with a cache of hand sanitizers, disinfecting alcohol, antibacterial liquid soap, face masks, and other paraphernalia meant to prevent spread of infection. Next to that was a station for handwashing. The place smelled of a strange yet pleasant mix of scented rubbing alcohol and baby powder.

The nurses had asked both him and Shoko to don hospital gowns over their clothes, plus wear gloves and masks. If the situation had been a little less grim, he would have argued with Shoko over whether these precautionary measures were really necessary for him when he had Infinity and his immune system was tougher than beds of nails. She would have told him how ridiculous he was being, and he would have countered with an argument that revolved around the idea that he was the last person carrying transferable diseases in the entire hospital.

But there was none of that…

He was quiet and subdued, even as the smiling nurse led them through.

She was not one of the nurses present during his baby’s birth, so she obviously didn’t know. Satoru wondered if she would have treated him differently if she knew. He let Shoko take care of the technicalities of the conversation. They were talking about IVs and breathing measurements and vital signs — everything that Satoru knew he should be paying attention to.

But he knew, despite his baby’s sensitive condition, that she was completely fine — that she was alive and that she would pull through.

His daughter’s cursed energy signature was readable outside of the unit. It thrummed and doused her in it completely like a second blanket. It wasn’t tightly reined or controlled, as expected from a newborn. She had more than the normal amount a sorcerer would have too — that tiny body housed enough cursed energy to match the output of a Grade 1 sorcerer.

He followed a step behind Shoko and the nurse, sunglasses now pushed to the top of his head so he could see everything. The tiny and insignificant curses that usually plagued hospitals were nowhere to be found — hiding from him most likely. 

Their little group stopped at the eighth infant warmer.

There she was — the fruit of his Love’s efforts.

Tiny, fragile, covered in a pink blanket, eyes half-open, her tiny arms and legs moving, and a nasal cannula in her nostrils.

“Normally, it’s really hard to tell which baby belongs to which parent because they all look so similar.” The nurse giggled at Shoko, gesturing to the rows and rows of dark-haired babies in identical infant warmers or incubators. “But your baby stands out from the rest. She’s hard to miss.”

“She’s not my baby.” Shoko corrected the nurse.

“Oh— My apologies, Dr. Ieiri.” She turned, about to address Satoru.

He was already standing over the tiny bed. The size of the infant warmer when placed right next to his towering height created a comical scene: a six-foot plus giant leaning over a restless baby.

“I can see where she gets her hair, Mr. Gojo. You have a very beautiful daughter.”

Her words barely registered in Satoru’s brain; his mind too preoccupied by the sight of his Love’s sweet angel. She’d begged him to love the little girl — made him promise. She had pleaded with every ounce of breath left in her rapidly deteriorating body.

And the sight of this tiny girl — her small fists curling and uncurling, small body wiggling and twitching underneath the soft blanket, and her head turned to his side with those eyes squeezed shut — broke what was left of his battered heart.

“She’s so small.” Satoru mumbled, seating himself on one of the stools they placed close to the infant warmer. (Truthfully, all newborn babies looked tiny compared to Satoru Gojo). 

Cautiously, he placed his elbows on the transparent edges of the warmer, watching the little girl closer, oblivious to the way Shoko and the nurse watched him.

“Is she a healthy size?” He spoke slowly, quietly; Six Eyes never straying away from the new life he’d helped create.

“Yes, Mr. Gojo.” She watched as Satoru fiddled with the name tag wrapped loosely around the newborn’s chubby wrist. A name hadn’t been given, so the tag simply read ‘Baby Gojo’. “If we could have her name, we could reprint a new tag.”

A name… If they could have her name.

Satoru stared at the thin white piece of photo paper between his fingers.

Born on the fifth moon at the beginning of the end of Spring, delivered at 11:43PM, firstborn child of the head of the Gojo clan, offspring of the strongest sorcerer alive.

The name left his lips unbidden, uttered as a reverent prayer and offering to a love he lost and equally gained. It was the name his Love had chosen — a fitting name for their baby girl and her powerful birthright, his Love had said.

“Satsuki… Her mother named her Satsuki, with the kanji for ‘blossom’ or ‘moon’ and ‘princess.’”

“A fitting name for a lovely girl. Your wife must be so proud.”

“She is…”

She would have been…

Satoru nodded along to the nurse’s kind comments, still wholly focused on watching his daughter. The nurse excused herself to accommodate a colleague’s inquiries, leaving him and Shoko alone amid the row of infant warmers and sleeping babies.

“You could touch her.” Shoko nodded once, noting how cautious Gojo was.

Uncaring of any protests, Satoru slipped off the glove that covered his right hand and gently slid two of his fingers into the space between her curled fingers and tiny palm. Her skin was warm and she was so so so small. It was a sight to behold: a daughter holding on to her father’s finger — a prelude of how they would behave around each other three years down the line. 

He was a stranger to fear, but in this moment, perhaps he could admit to feeling apprehensive — that his most delicate grip could shatter her. Satsuki deserved utmost care and tenderness — the kind that only a mother could give… The kind that Satoru so obviously lacked. He could put a roof over his daughter’s head, give her clothes to keep her warm, provide food in abundance so she would never starve, financially support her so she would never want for a single thing in her life, and protect her from every threat. All of that, and he would still be incapable of restoring the warmth and comfort Satsuki’s mother could have brought her — had she been given the chance.

That’s what hurt the most, he figured… Satsuki would only know of her mom — would only experience her through the thousands of pictures and videos Satoru had stored in memory cards and camera phones throughout the years. Satsuki would never know how sweet and warm her mother was, how affectionate and kind and patient. And no matter how much Satoru would strive to convey all of that through his stories and his actions, it could never measure up — could never bring proper justice to the firsthand experience Satsuki would have had, if only Fate wasn’t cruel to Satoru Gojo and everyone he loved.

He pulled down the mask that covered half of his face as he gently stroked his daughter’s hair. There was so much of it — a full head of white, a blanket of snow. He could fit her entire head in the palm of his hand. He marveled at all of her, now that he had been staring for quite some time. Thin and pale eyebrows matched her long white eyelashes. Her nose, her mouth, the shape of her face — it was all his. In this at least, no one could doubt her paternal lineage. (Not that anyone would dare to question Satoru Gojo if he claimed a baby was his — look-a-like or not).

“Oh my god, she’s all you.” Shoko muttered over his shoulder, echoing his own musings as she finally got a closer look for herself.

“Would the clan elders still insist on a paternity test, do you think?”

It was a half-baked attempt at humor, but Shoko did smile a little underneath her face mask. There was some truth to that claim. 

Satoru’s family weren’t the happiest group of people when they found out he got his girlfriend pregnant. They lived in modern society, but the biggest clans of the jujutsu world held fast to traditional beliefs, even if said beliefs dated all the way back to the 18th century. Satsuki was born out of wedlock, so in their judgmental eyes, she was illegitimate — unworthy of the Gojo name and certainly not fit to inherit any asset or receive support from the clan. But Shoko doubted that claim would stay for long — not if Satoru would have anything to do with it. He got what he wanted one way or the other (and for the most part). She knew her friend.

Shoko wagered that this family conflict would persist for a year or less… Satsuki is and forever will be entitled to the name ‘Gojo’, and Satoru would even put her in line to be the next head of the clan — patriarchal traditions be damned.

“How’s her cursed energy level?” Shoko asked out of curiosity. It had been on her mind ever since she and Satoru wandered into the unit.

“As stable as can be expected from a baby. The amount matches a Grade 1 sorcerer.” 

Shoko reached over the edge of the infant warmer to fix the blanket covering Satsuki’s body. “You think she’ll have Limitless?”

“Maybe. It would be better for her if something unique manifests instead. You never really know until kids hit five or six.”

Satoru continued to speak quietly as he scanned his daughter’s face, watching closely as her little eyelids fluttered and peeled themselves back halfway, revealing bright amber irises. At this, he had to smile.

“She has her mommy’s eyes. Of course she does.”

His Love would have adored her. She’d fawned over Satsuki from the moment they went to their first checkup. She had smiled so wide when they heard the steady beat of their little girl’s heart for the first time, and she told him all over again that her horrible nausea in the mornings, her swollen feet, her migraines, and all her troubles were worth it — even if he so obviously thought otherwise.

“Loving her is loving a piece of you. And I love you wholly, Satoru.”

A piece of him…

Satsuki was a piece of her too, wasn’t she?

Satsuki was the embodiment of her love — the remnant Satoru resolved to cherish for the rest of his days from this moment forth.

Shoko went looking for the nurse and left him alone for a moment, and Satoru contented himself with the view of his daughter staring listlessly into a mess of colors and shapes that her still-developing brain barely identified. Giving her the sincere smile she deserved, he held one of her tiny hands again and kissed her fingers — a promise of the life and future he would give her for as long as he was able.

It would be a long long while until he would see his Love again — longer still because their daughter needed him now. 

Wherever she was, perhaps watching over him and Satsuki, he sincerely hoped his Love heard the utterance of the very same words she’d told him that time he asked. His Love was right…

Loving the girl was loving a piece of her mother. And ever since that evening on Christmas Eve so many years ago, he’d loved every bit of his lover everyday, more than he did the day before until the moment she took her last breath. 

“I’ll take care of our little girl. I promise.”

[nectardaddy]

'88 Ford | Kita Shinsuke

chapter two | stormin'

masterlist

ignore timestamps

track two . . . daylight

It rained hard. Droplets beating at the tin roof of the barn overhead, the downpour overflowing the gutters as water escaped in droves; the open rolling doors of the building looking more like a waterfall as it rained. A sigh escaping his lips as his eyes flickered over towards the entrance, there went the rest of his field work.

Wiping oil and grease coated hands on an old shop rag, he then swiped a hand over his forehead; traces of the dark liquids being left in place of the sweat that was once there. It was humid and sticky more than anything, water vapor sticking to the tin walls and staying as it had no where else to go; he couldn't take a deep breath without thinking it was harder to breathe.

"Sorry I couldn't be much help, sir," stating an apology as he looked over to the older man next to him. Shoving the, now dirty, rag into his pocket to not further the mess of the barn.

"Quit apologizing," the older man, his boss, griped. "I d'know' what the hell is wrong with it either, son." Tagging on the latter name with ease; a familiar verbiage Shinsuke, had to quickly, become accustomed to upon getting the job. To the man, workers were either 'son' or 'asshole,' to which he much preferred 'son.'

Brown eyes watched as the other backed away from the piece of machinery that both once tried to fix, deciding it was better left alone for the time being or his temper would get the best of him. However the sharp tone of a phone ringing cut off the older man's woes completely, grunting as he fished the phone from his pocket and looked at the caller id. "Damn, what did she do now?" Muttering to himself before answering.

Shinsuke couldn't help but feel fairly out of place during the interaction, stepping backwards as to not be within ear shot; but not knowing what to do after. It would be rude to walk away completely, and it was pouring outside regardless, but he didn't want to make it seem like he was eavesdropping. So he opted for turning his gaze towards the ground, hell bent on making his presence feel as small as possible.

"It's easing up some now," he heard, suspecting the man spoke about the rain. "Kita'll' come get you while it's slowed, we'll come back and fix it once it stops." The mention of his name garnered his full attention, raising his head and looking over to his boss in confusion. The man saw his puzzled expression and took the phone away from his ear, holding it towards his shoulder. "My daughter had the genius idea of barreling down the gravel road across the way and got a flat tire," he groaned. Earning a, frighteningly, audible I can hear you through the phone.

"The road that goes into town?" Asking a clarifying question as he realized he was being volun-told to do something, to which the other man nodded. While it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to be asked, or matter-of-factly told, to do something, this situation was far from any others. Asked to be around the woman that made him a puddle of a man created a pit in his stomach. "She alright, sir?"

"Fine. But mad as hell, so get going," he groaned, to which the pit in his stomach only grew more. While one concern was dashed, another took precedent within his mind. How he would manage to reel in his emotions was beyond him. Never rude, and never overstepping, frankly terrified of the repercussions of so much as thinking about her too much, but he was wholeheartedly a lovesick idiot.

A lovelorn moron who adored the very woman he was told to pick up, the daughter of the man who gave him his job in the first place. While he thanked a higher power he was dependable and trustworthy, this was awful. "Yes, sir," he replied before tightening his jaw, "I'll go get her."

It was still raining, however, the wash out had turned to a gentle shower; but he knew it would soon turn back to beating down, the clouds still low and dark as he exited the barn. He quickened his pace to a jog to prevent his, already dirty, clothes from becoming soaked as he neared his truck.

Opening the door, he stepped up, dirt and mud falling from boots as they came in contact with the step bar. He closed the door once inside and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth.

It'll be fine. She's as pretty as sin, but it'll be fine.

taglist under cut

@wyrcan @chizunata @seroh @chemiru @froyaoya

@h3xi2g0n3 @localgaytrainwreck @mollyrolls @causenessus @diorzs

@rory-cakes @phoenix-eclipses @pattys-got-cakes @girlkissersco

[avenging-fandoms]

im not to sure how into edging and punishment you are and if not feel free to ignore. but joel miller trying to get a handle on his girl who’s just been sassing him all day. nothing to crazy but she’s being a little brat and it’s driving him up the walls to put her in her place. like his palms are itching to spank that pretty ass til she’s crying in submission. then he’ll edge her again and again and again. maybe he’ll let her come maybe he won’t. but best believe she’s learned her lesson. by the end of it they’re all cuddled up after he’s cleaned her up and given her some water like “has someone learned their lesson”

**set pre-outbreak** *really dirty?

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

"Yn, sweet girl, it's time to wake up" Joel's lips kissed your jaw, hand on your lower back. You groan and turn your head, Joel peeling the comforter off your back slowly and kissed your bare back.

"Leave me alone, let me sleep in" You whine and his smile slowly dropped, his hand making you roll onto your back.

"Baby it's 10, I let you sleep in plenty. It's time to start the day, you're helping me at work today" you roll your eyes and sit up, stretching and giving Joel a full view of your bare chest.

All day at work, you would gripe and whine and it drove Joel insane. And he couldn't do anything about it, because he was surrounded by coworkers.

Finally, 8 hours had gone by and you both got in the truck. "That was literally the worst day I've had in my whole life"

Joel started the truck, nearly breaking the key. "Yeah, I had a pretty shitty day too. The person who agreed to help me whenever I needed it, was whining the whole time about wanting to go home"

"I'm sorry that you promised me a weekend for us and your job once again ruined it. I asked for quality time at home, not your job" You rolled your eyes and Joel gripped the steering wheel, his hands wishing they were ripping your shorts off, leaving his hand print on your ass.

Joel pulled into the drive-way, putting it in park and shutting off the truck rather aggressively, slamming his door. He came around to your side and opened the door and you look at him. "Get out" Your eyebrows furrowed a bit and he huffed. "Damn it, Yn. I'm tired of your games. Get out of the truck"

You cross your arms over your chest and look forward. Joel moved his jaw to the side and grabbed you by the waist, throwing you over his shoulder and slamming the door.

Joel kicked the door with his foot and kicked it closed, your hands hitting his back as he took you to the room. Joel threw you on the bed, grabbing your jaw. "You have been so aggravating today, and I wanted to punish you for running your mouth so bad, but you got lucky. There was people around. But now," Joel flipping you on your hands and knees. "Now we're alone"

Joel's hand rubs over your ass and lays a hard smack on your right cheek, making you jump. He pulls your shorts and underwear off, spreading your legs a little bit as he spanks you over and over. "Look at this.. all for me" Joel's fingers rub up and down your folds, your teeth biting the bed sheets.

He slides his middle finger into you, groaning as he watches you react. You push your ass back and Joel spanks you hard again and you whimper. "Patience. You don't deserve more" he spanked you again, and you gripped the sheets. Joel's fingers moved slowly, pulling it out and moaning as he made you lick his finger clean. "Beg for it, baby. Tell me how bad you need me"

His fingers rubbed up and down your pussy, and you could barely form words. His hand repeatedly smacked your ass, tears pouring from the corner of your eye. "J.. fuck. Joel, please, I need you. I need you fill me up with your fucking cock, Joel, please"

Joel was satisfied. He pushed your hips down and flipped you onto your back, dropping to his knees and pulling your hips towards him. You whimper as his beard rubs against your thighs, pressing his tongue flat against your pussy.

Your fingers immediately grip his hair, Joel pushing two fingers into you as his tongue flicked your clit slowly. "Yes, Joel, oh my god" your hips move against his tongue and he pushes you down, holding you still.

Joel moved his fingers and tongue at a fast pace, and you felt your orgasm approaching. Joel could feel you tightening around his fingers, and pulled himself away. You let go of his hair and look at him with desperation.

"You think I would let you cum that easy?" Joel's hand slapped your pussy and you jump, Joel smirking. He flipped you back onto your stomach, ass perched in the air as he smacked your ass harder than he has before. "You embarrassed me today," smack. "In front of all my coworkers," smack, cry, smack. "You were such a fucking brat." smack, loud cry, smack, smack.

"Joel! Joel, please" you sob and he grabs your chin, making you look at him as you rolled to your back. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for embarrassing you" You were out of breath, voice shaking as Joel's eyelids were low with his hand softly touching your stomach. "I'll never do it again. I said I would help and I.. I.."

"Shh, I forgive you, sweet girl" He whispered and kissed you, your hand holding his face as you roll on top of him. Your fingers push under his shirt, sliding it off his body and scratching down his torso.

Joel slammed you back under him with a little chuckle from the back of his throat. "Not gonna happen, baby" Joel pulled away from you, standing up and taking his pants off. Saliva filled your mouth as you looked at his hard dick. You sat up and smiled at him, getting on your knees in front of him.

You open your mouth and Joel grips your hair, shoving his cock into your mouth. The sudden jolt made you gag, which made Joel go crazier. "Yeah, take it, I'll make you stop complaining" He huffed as he repeatedly thrusted his dick into your throat.

Foam forms at the side of your mouth, saliva sliding down your chin and falling in your lap. Joel pulled you away and you gasp for air, your boyfriend put you back on the bed and pushed your thighs, your knees against your chest. Joel sloppily took the saliva from your chin and slapped it on your pussy, pushing himself into you.

"Is this what you wanted? Huh? You wanted to be fucked so bad you can't form words?" His words were choppy as his hips pounding into yours, his fists directly next to your head. Your nails dug into his biceps, veins popping out of your neck as you couldn't catch your breath with Joel hitting every spot.

"Y-yes, fuck!" You scream and Joel pulls away, moving his four fingers flat on your clit back and forth. You scream his name, begging, pleading. "Please, Joel. Please let me cum, I'll be a good girl, I promise" You plead and he laughs in your face.

"You should've been a good girl all day," He flipped you onto your knees and palms. "You would've had all the orgasms you wanted" Your face buries in the pillow as he pounds into you, reaching back to hold his wrist while his left hand held your hips. His right hand spanked you a few times before grabbing your other hand, holding both wrists in his left hand down on your back as he pounded you further into the bed.

You were gasping, tears rolling down your nose as he fucked you better than he ever had. This gave you ideas to be a brat more, but the denial of orgasms and all the spankings were too much. This was definitely going to help your attitude.

"Complain some more, baby. Come on. You had a lot to say today" He taunted you and you could barely open your eyes that were rolling to the back of your head. "What's the matter?" He smirked devilishly, picking you up as he knelt on the bed, holding you to face him as he bounced you on his dick. Your tits moved with every bounce, Joel admiring you and kissing in between your breasts.

"Fuck, Joel, fuck. It hurts so bad, please. Please let me cum, please" You wrap your arms around his neck with your nose squished against his, choppy breath hitting his lips as he bounced you.

"You've been taking every punishment so well, I think you deserve it" Joel pushed you on your back once more, his hips smacking into yours so loud you were sure the house would start to crack. His fingers rubbed your clit rather fast, his left hand on your chest. "Cum for me, baby. That's it, I can feel you clench around me, so tight baby"

Joel was close, you could always tell when he was. His eyebrows would furrow, his top lip would twitch and his chest would puff out. "Cum in me, Joel. Fill me with your fucking cum" You look directly in his eyes, and it was like he was lit on fire from the inside. "Joel! FUCK!" You scream and push him away, Joel smiling in victory.

His fingers slide into you as he continues your orgasm, using both hands to work on you. You slap the bed, pull and bite the sheets, even slap Joel's arms.

But you never used your safe word.

You let out another scream as you orgasm again, only this time you were twitching and whimpering like you never had before. "Maybe I should deny your orgasms more often" Joel was dripping. He made you squirt.

Your cheeks turn red and he smiles, pulling your hips to the edge of the bed as he slides himself in again slowly. Soon the overstimulation went away and it was back to pleasure. Your fingers found Joel's neck and pulled him down, kissing him passionately.

"Fill me with your cum, Joel. I want all of you in me" Those words were enough to send him over the edge. He grunted lowly, pushing his hips deep into yours as he makes sure every last drop was in you.

"I'll be right back" You nod and he throws a robe on and leaves the bedroom. You head to the bathroom and do your business, freshening up a little bit before heading back to the room and putting on one of Joel's shirts and boxer shorts.

Joel comes back in as you sit on the bed, kissing your forehead as he gives you a glass of water then changes into his comfy clothes. His fingers fall under your chin, making you look at him as his thumb rubbed your jaw. "Did you learn your lesson?"

"Yes, Joel" He smiles, his thumb pulling down your bottom lip.

"What was the lesson?" He whispered and you lock your eyes with him. All he had in them was love.

"To not be a brat or I'll be punished like one"

"Thata girl" He smiles and kisses you soft and slow. You gulp nearly the whole glass and put it on the side table, Joel doing the same and meeting you in the middle with open arms. You smile happily as you snuggle into him, head on his bicep with your arm draped over his side as you both fell asleep.

[junowritings]

The heat here's been absolute killer the past couple days - so it got me thinking how the rest of the Batch would cope and this cute idea popped up

All my love and thanks again to @itscanonfellas for being a huge help with this!

=======

Heatwave

Wrecker X Reader

Warnings: None

=======

The first year on Pabu, you’d learned a valuable lesson.

And it was that the heatwaves here were relentless.

The heat’s been gradually ramping up throughout the day - what was once a tepid warmth is now downright blistering both inside and out.

The batch has scattered to the four corners of the property once it became apparent that the temperature wasn’t cooling down anytime soon. 

You’re pretty sure the only one who’s still technically in the house aside from you is Tech; though last time you checked in he was doing what he could to actively combat the heat, opening every single window in the vicinity while tinkering with what you hope is the beginnings of a fan from the living room couch.

Most of your morning has been spent in and out of the fridge - most of the time to fetch drinks but you’ve been caught a couple times leaning into the thing for a two second break from the sweltering temperature only to be griped at for wasting the cold.

It’s around lunchtime when you finally decide to check on everyone, fishing out a pitcher of water from the fridge that someone - likely Tech - had the foresight to stow away earlier. The icy chill against your hands is sorely welcome as you pour out several glasses - it’ll take a few trips to dish them all out, but you’d rather not try to pull a balancing act and risk smashing the glasses trying to show off.

Making the rounds is simple. Even on the hottest days you can always find the batch in their regular haunts, so tracking them down is rudimentary. Your first port of call is the living room, of course. Though Tech barely even glances up at you, thoroughly invested in the amalgamation of machinery scattered across the coffee table, he expresses his gratitude in his own way, giving your arm a brief pat as you push the glass into his field of view. With him taken care of your next route leads you outside.

From the vantage of the rooftop, you can make out a few figures across the backyard and beyond. It gives you a good idea on where everybody’s camped out. A couple of weeks after moving in, the rooftop had to be renovated; Crosshair had been a big help in getting it done, and had promptly claimed a corner of the building for his stuff the moment it was finished. You’d wondered why he had been so helpful, until you figured out it was for personal gain. Well played. Balancing the glass and working the stairs takes some work but you manage to reach the rooftop where, as expected, you find Crosshair propped up in the usual spot. 

The hammock’s a new addition, and as you approach, Crosshair peeks out from his current perch, eyes sharp gauging whoever’s brave enough to come into his space. Once he spots you, or more accurately, the drink you basically hover over his face he softens considerably, though the drink is promptly swiped from your hands the very next second.

You head to your next target.

By the time you find the poor soul lost to the heat, you have to practically peel Omega off of the large rock she’s decided to lounge on like a damn lizard. It takes some maneuvering with only one hand but you manage, holding her up long enough to accept the offered drink and making her promise to find somewhere shadier. Though she looks content to bake in the sun, the last thing you need is to explain to Hunter how Omega ended up burnt to a crisp if she stays out much longer. 

Echo’s got the right idea when you locate him, tucked away beneath the tree to the right of the house basking in the shade with the company of the ice packs previously left forgotten in the back of the freezer. You’re a little miffed you didn’t think of that first honestly, and you praise him for the smart thinking, as you kneel down to nudge him into taking a glass. Echo’s polite enough to offer you a pack for your trouble and while it’s tempting you inevitably turn it down. You’re not blind - even in the shade you’re sure the sweltering heat has a poor effect on his cybernetics and you can only imagine the extra trouble he has to go through not to overheat.

Even Hunter, whose body temperature runs cooler than the rest of the batch, is working up a sweat in the unrelenting heat, legs kicked up on the fencing as he presses himself into a shaded corner of the porch bench when you meander over.

He’s got a datapad in his lap and his sunhat is tilted down to hide his face from view. He looks every bit the napping dad, down to the uncomfortable sleeping position which definitely won’t help his back when he moves. You’re already conjuring up an old man joke in your head, giggling on approach, when Hunter tips the hat back and eyes you up with one eye.

Probably best not to test his patience on a day like this, the supporting the elderly jokes can wait until the temperature becomes inhabitable.

Still, the glass is accepted graciously after being assured you have your own drink inside. That leaves you with just one more person to find - thankfully you know exactly where he is.

Wrecker is definitely suffering the worst from the heat - his body runs warm enough that he is basically a walking furnace, even without any extra layers helping him. Maybe it’s all the extra muscle or the excess energy that practically rolls off of him in waves, but Wrecker’s always ran the warmest out of his brothers.

Stars, you still remember having to drop by Hoth once a year back. The Marauder’s AC had sputtered and packed up the moment you’d hit planetside. While Wrecker didn’t so much as shiver the rest of the crew weren’t so lucky, and had to pilfer every single piece of clothing and blankets on the ship just to feel a fraction of warmth. And even then it’d taken cuddling up close to the bigger clone just to stop your body from turning into an ice cube - a kindness you repaid with as much junk food as you could physically carry as soon as you were able to defrost back in temperate climates.

Sure Wrecker’s warmth had been a lifesaver during the frigid months - You quite happily spent as much time as you could wileing the winter nights away curled up in his arms, sapping at that endless source of body heat as he tucked you eagerly against his chest.

But now? It looked like his internal oven was biting him in the ass.

You find him in the backyard sprawled out on one of the deck chairs, looking a couple of minutes away from melting and becoming one with the furniture. You’re careful to step over the shirt and shoes carelessly discarded in Wrecker’s bid to cool off, but even stripped down to his shorts the poor man’s sweating bullets. 

It’s impossible not to feel bad for him; you’re hoping that the water will be enough to ease some of his suffering. Taking pity on the sorry state he’s been reduced to, you carry the ice-cold drink over to where he’s slumped, the ice cubes clinking against the base of the glass as you round the deck chair he’s slumped against.

You make sure Wrecker knows that you’re there before you try anything, you’d rather not have the thing go flying if he were to jump up because you’d surprised him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s knocked something flying because he’d been taken by surprise - by complete accident, of course, and you recall the hour worth of profuse apologies following the fiasco as he’d helped you clean the mess.

Leaning up against the chair frame you bring a hand to smooth over his bare shoulder, and the heat from his skin practically radiates beneath your fingertips. Stars he really is burning to the touch. Wrecker grumbles leaning a little into the gentle caress but doesn’t open his eyes. Your heart breaks seeing your usually overexcitable partner looking so drained.

“Oh Wrecker,” sighing, you rub slow circles into his shoulder, hoping to coax him into rousing long enough to show him what you’ve brought with you. When that doesn’t work you try the next best thing - gently pressing the drink to his temple.

The moment the chill of the glass touches his feverish skin, the sigh that Wrecker lets out is one of absolute bliss, head tilting back desperate to chase the relief that the glass provides.

“Oooooh that feels nice.” and you’re sure it does, as the knit in his brows eases and his expression morphs from discomfort to content.

Now that you’ve got Wrecker’s attention you lift the glass from his forehead - reluctantly, but you’d rather he enjoyed his drink before the ice melts. It’s a good thing he isn’t looking at you yet, because it takes all you have not to laugh at the way he groans at the loss, leaning back far enough on the chair you have to press against his shoulder before he ends up tipping the whole thing over.

He cracks an eye open to look up at you, and your expression warms at the cute lopsided grin he flashes. Your name falls from Wrecker’s lips with a content rumble as he stretches out, no doubt working the feeling back into his limbs.

“C’mon Wreck,” you sooth, pressing a quick kiss in place of where the drink had just been - a little cooler than it was before thankfully. “It’ll be better if you drink it before it melts.”

Wrecker’s sluggish but pushes himself upright at your instruction. When he no longer looks as though he’s about to sink back into the deck chair you balance yourself on the edge of it.

Slotting into a space where the chair dips with his weight you make yourself comfortable beside him in spite of the heat. From this spot the sun is relentless - it definitely isn’t helping Wrecker’s overheating problem - and you’re vaguely aware of the warmth that burns along your shoulders and the back of your neck as you twist to face away from the sun. Condensation drips along the outside of the cup in hand, a clear sign as any that you’ve been holding the thing for too long; and the moment you’ve got his eyes on you you’re handing it over.

Wrecker visibly brightens as you give the glass a little swirl, wordlessly coaxing him to take it. A large hand overlaps yours as he accepts the offered drink, giving your fingers a grateful squeeze before freeing the cup from your grip. He tips his head back and just about necks a good third of the glass’ contents, more than a bit of it dripping down his chin in his haste to get something cool into his system.

He’s halfway through chugging the thing before apparently deciding it’s not cooling him down quick enough. In the next second the remaining contents of the glass are promptly poured over Wrecker’s head, rivulets of water streaking pathways over his shoulders and down his front as he groans in relief. 

As though the refreshment has breathed life back into your beloved boyfriend Wrecker barks out a laugh, running a hand over his head. You bite back a chuckle at how fast he perks up, shaking his head like a wet dog - you have to lean back to avoid the splash zone, your eyes following the trails of water droplets that roll down his cheeks and drip from his jaw like a leaky faucet.

“You’re the best, Mesh’la!” Wrecker’s got the foresight to put down the empty glass first before he ducks down, pressing his lips to yours. 

Thanks to the refreshment they’re wonderfully cool and you’re more than happy to sink into the kiss, cupping his face between your hands with a blissful sigh of your own.

“Oh am I?“ You break the kiss just long enough to hum, your thumbs chasing the leftover drops on his chin and swiping them away. You already know the answer - Wrecker never shies away from reminding you every chance he gets - but it never fails to make your heart swell.

“Aw, c'mon ya already know it.” Saying this his kisses start wandering away from your lips, peppering over the bridge of your nose and across your cheek to just below the curve of your ear.

He noses the area affectionately, grinning against your skin at the giggle it elicits from you - a sound that makes him melt all over again.

Wrecker’s affection is all-encompassing - eager to crowd into your space and shower you with all of the love you could possibly want and then some. It’s one of the many things you adore about him, and you’re eager to reciprocate as he drags his mouth across your skin to your lips for more kisses.

He’s still unbearably warm, sweat slicked skin pressing against your side as he curls one arm around your waist, fingers squeezing tenderly at the bare space where your shirt rides up. The other hand comes to rest on your lower back, large palm spread flat along the dip of your spine pressing you against him and you all but fall pliantly into place. Each brush of his mouth against your own ekes out soft, dreamy sighs, and your hands trail down the back of his neck, looping around broad scarred shoulders to tug him closer.

You’d quite happily kiss him all day if you could - maker knows Wrecker would literally jump at the word go. Too bad the hot weather ruins your fun, as you become aware of the burning heat that begins to crawl down your neck and back in the wake of his touch - unfortunately not just thanks to his kisses, as the sun is apparently keen on reminding you.

Your attempt to avoid the heat is followed easily by Wrecker, whose huge form provides an excellent form of shade. That is until you start to feel the deck chair beginning to tip back. 

Your hands fly up to curb the affectionate onslaught before he sends it toppling along with the pair of you. Reluctantly you push away from his lips, though Wrecker is quick enough to steal a couple more kisses for good measure before you can get a word in.

“You’re hot.” you huff, but it only gets you a cheeky grin as he bumps his nose against yours.

“Thanks.”

With a snort you press a hand to Wrecker’s bare chest before he can dive in for another kiss. “I meant that literally, Wreck. You need to cool off - I’d rather not have to pry you off of this chair when you overheat again.”

This time it’s Wrecker’s turn to huff, breath stiflingly warm on your neck as he buries his face into the crook of it. “I dunno, these kisses are helping an awful lot…” he presses another kiss, just for good measure and you snort a laugh.

“That’ll do anything but cool you down and you know it.”

The pads of your fingers smooth out along his chest, idly tracing over an old scar that stretches below his collarbone. “Could always spray you down in the fresher,” you suggest, “But I’m pretty sure Hunter wouldn’t be happy about wasting all the water.”

“Wouldn’t call that a waste.”

“Your brothers would say otherwise.”

The defeated groan he lets out in response when he realizes you’re not budging vibrates against your skin, and you bring your hand up to pat his back in a ‘there there’ gesture that only earns another groan.

Wrecker goes quiet after a moment, uncharacteristically so considering how boisterous he usually is. That lasts for a moment too long, and you’re beginning to worry you’ve lost him to heatstroke when he suddenly pushes himself upright with a gasp.

“The beach!”

“The beach?” You laugh, a little baffled at the sudden switch. “How did we make the jump from the freshers to the beach?”

“Think ‘bout it! It’s the only way to have constant water without Hunter blowing a fuse!” He taps against his head with his finger and then pokes the center of yours, as if transferring the thought. 

Huh. That’s actually a good idea - one of the many perks of living here was basically being a couple clicks away from the beach. You have to wonder why no one came to that conclusion before. Maybe it was the brain fog accumulated through trying to avoid actively baking beneath the sun for the past couple of hours?

“Right, you wrangle up the others. I’ll head back inside and get the swimsuits and-” your would be list is cut off abruptly as Wrecker promptly scoops you out of the chair, the ground leaving your feet as you sail airborne upwards, finally finding your place over Wrecker's shoulder. It’s wide enough you don’t fall off at all but your vision is upside down for a few seconds. 

“WRECKER!”

“Na, we don’t need no swimsuits! We’ll be in the water!”

You fail to see the logic there. “Wrecker, I'm not swimming naked!”

“You won’t, you can wear what you’re wearing right now.” He protests, still making strides away from the house.

“I can’t swim fully clothed either.”

“Why not? It’ll be fun!”

It doesn’t seem like Wrecker’s in much of a mood to listen to reason - not that he ever is when his mind is set on something. It’s something you both loved and hated about the man. “Fine. But you’re the one who’ll be scrubbing the sand out of everybody’s stuff later.”

“That’s a sacrifice I am willing to make.” He adjusts you on his shoulder, moving you so you’re less like a sack of potatoes and more perched atop it, allowing you to look down at his grinning face. “Now can we go to the beach?”

“The beach?!”  As if the words alone have summoned her, Omega skids into view. All signs of fatigue are long gone and she’s practically beaming, looking significantly redder than the last you saw of her - oh, she is definitely sunburnt. Hunter’s going to kick a fit. “We’re going to the beach?!”

“You bet we are kid!” Omega cheers, practically jumping for joy on the spot. “Go round up the crew and we’re out of here.”

She stands to attention in an instant, hand raised in a mock of a salute with all the seriousness of a child being promised a reward. “Sir yes sir!” and she’s gone in a blink of an eye, sprinting up the path towards the house; stumbling in her haste “Guys! Wake up! We’ve got a mission!”

It takes seconds for Hunter to burst through the back doors into the yard; leaning over the fence with wild eyes and - he had most definitely drifted off between your conversation and this rendezvous, he still looks half asleep. Looks like peace has done Hunter some good. “What? What mission, what’s happening?”

“The beach! We’re going to the beach!” Her shrill voice carries and from your vantage point, you see Hunter press his head to the wooden railing. It looks like he’s either trying to calm his heart or gather his strength not to throttle Omega for the fright. “Did you hear, Crosshairs?”

Your gaze travels.

Crosshair is on the roof, rifle already in hand, though he seems to have clocked on that there is no danger and seems to be contemplating using Omega for target practice instead.

The girl really didn’t know how often her life hung in the balance in this place.

She disappears into the house in a blur of blonde and red - followed swiftly by Hunter, who definitely clocked onto the sunburn the kid’s sporting and runs a defeated hand down his face as he trails behind.

Sighing at their antics you drop your arm to rest atop Wreckers head, bracing yourself on his shoulder. The victorious grin on Wrecker’s face only brightens as he places a hand on your thigh to help keep you upright, rubbing slow circles. Clearly he’s got no plans on putting you down any time soon. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’s planning on carrying you the whole way there atop his shoulder.

The thought makes you smile - a smile that breaks into a knowing smirk as you hear a shout from inside the house demanding to know who’d used the last of the sun screen.

[blakelysco-pilot]

being shocked that they eat something in a peculiar way (like the whole how to eat a kitkat debate)

or

getting annoyed when they decide to wash dishes right when the other gets in the shower, making their water cold unexpectedly

for whichever couple sparks your inspiration!

-lestweforget5

Thank you so much for the ask, friend! I combined both of your choices. I hope you like it!

Prompts from this list if you’d like to request one. My ask box is open💗

The smell of coffee was the first to rouse him from sleep. Blue eyes blinking away the cobwebs of his dreams, Rosie turned in bed ready to continue his morning with his wife in his arms, but found that Jo’s side of the bed was empty. The sheets pulled up neatly, he could only guess she had gone downstairs some time ago. With a heavy sigh, he let himself remain under the covers a few moments longer before the scent of the coffee became too alluring. Stuffing his feet into his slippers and pulling on his robe, he quickly padded from the bedroom, stopping only when he met Ev Blakely in the hallway.

“Rosie…”

“Ev,” Rosie nodded, peering behind him to see if his wife was in tow. “Val get up early too?”

“Explains the coffee.” He gestured down the stairs, letting Rosie go ahead of him.

The cottage that the two couples had rented in Martha’s Vineyard was bathed in sunlight as the men made their way downstairs. It had been Jo and Val’s idea, a getaway before the end of the summer to get out of the city. It hadn’t taken much persuading on the girls part to get their husbands to agree to a few days off. Still in the honeymoon phase, both men had gladly conceded to their wives request for a couples trip.

Entering the kitchen, they found both women wrapped up in their robes, hair still tied up in their scarves, puttering around. Jo was pouring coffee, watching toast on the griddle, and Val was in front of the stove moving something around in a frying pan.

“Look who’s up,” Val hadn’t even looked up from her task, “Good morning sleeping beauties.”

“Morning, sweetheart,” Blakely crossed the kitchen quickly, dropping a kiss to his wife’s lips, his eyes lighting up as he saw what she was cooking. “I’d gripe about you leaving me in bed, but you’re making eggs in purgatory!”

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

“Absolutely,” He winked, gratefully accepting the coffee that Jo had poured for him. “Thanks, Jo.”

“Oh you’re welcome. I know I’m no Red Cross gal, but I hope it will suffice.”

Jo carried two mugs across to Rosie, who was still standing in the entrance to the kitchen, watching his wife and their friends start their day. She held hers in one hand, gently passing the other off to him with a smile and a good morning kiss.

“Missed you when I got up…” Rosie pouted, blue eyes twinkling in mischief.

“You were sound asleep, I couldn’t bear to wake you.”

“You’re forgiven,” He grinned. “You made me coffee.”

“Well, aren’t you sweet!” She winked, gently pinching his side before moving back to check on the toast.

“Sit down you two, breakfast is almost done.” Val peeked over her shoulder at them, gesturing to the two seats they had occupied the night before when they all sat down for dinner.

“What did you say she was making?” Rosie posed the question to Blakely over the top of his coffee cup, watching as the other man’s eyes lit up.

“Eggs in purgatory,” Rosie wasn’t sure, but he could almost see Blakely’s mouth watering. “I never had it until I met her mother, and it’s the best breakfast ever.”

“Eggs in…purgatory?!”

“It’s fried eggs in tomato sauce, with Parmesan cheese, some parsley, and a little red pepper.”

“Eggs in tomato sauce!?” Rosie looked between his two friends, Jo leaning over the table to place a basket filled with toast between the boys. “Val, not everything needs to be cooked in tomato sauce.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.” She grinned, bringing the frying pan over to the table and setting it on a trivet.

“And yes, it does,” Blakely immediately reached for the serving spoon, first dishing up to the girls before feeding himself and Rosie. “Come on, Rosie, live a little!”

“Eggs in tomato sauce…” Rosie shook his head with a laugh, picking up his fork. His wife and friends looked on as he took a tentative first bite.

“Honey?” Jo looked over at him, waiting for any kind of reaction.

“Pass me that toast, would ya, Blakely…” Was the only response around another mouthful of eggs.

____________________

“You girls go on, we’ll clean up breakfast.”

“Are you sure?” Jo looked at her husband skeptically, knowing that Rosie never voluntarily did the dishes unless his mother was in the room.

“Yes, go on,” He ushered her out of the kitchen with a kiss. “Least I can do after giving Val’s cooking the third degree.”

“Then why am I on dish duty too?” Ev looked at his friend from where he was pouring another cup of coffee for Val.

“Shut up,” Rosie rolled his eyes, watching as Blakely handed Val her coffee and sent her on her way. “Get a towel, you’re gonna dry these.”

“No wonder Pappy went home after you reupped. Bossy.” Ev grumbled, and both girls could be heard laughing as they climbed the stairs to their respective bedrooms to begin getting ready for the day.

Both men began shuffling plates and cups off the table and into the sink to soak, listening carefully for the sound of their respective bedroom doors closing after their wives. With the now empty frying pan on the counter, waiting to be scrubbed, Rosie turned to Everett who had dutifully picked up a dish towel.

“Does Val know?”

“About the vineyard and lunch?” Ev rolled his eyes as if to prove their secret was safe. “Not a thing.”

“Neither does Jo.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t suggest it, didn’t she come here with her parents as a kid?”

“Oh yea,” Rosie laughed, turning back towards the sink. “She hated it.”

“Then why…”

“Beats me,” Rosie shrugged. “But I was happy to pack up and get away for a few days.”

“You can say that again.” Ev sighed, rolling his shoulders.

“No, seriously. She caught me sleeping at the kitchen table last week, a case file under my head like a damn pillow.”

The men, both fully engrossed in their chatter, hadn't heard the showers upstairs turn on in their respective bedrooms. So when Rosie turned the sink on, and let the hot water run for a moment, it hadn’t occurred to him where that hot water was coming from.

“Alright pal, let’s get these dishes-“

“ROBERT!”

“EVERETT!”

“On second thought…”

“Yea, let’s uh, let’s just go…”

“Mhmm, right behind ya pal!”

[delopsia]

There are just some days when driving down your driveway feels impossible. 

Long, winding, as are most driveways in Wabang. This had been the main selling point when you bought this house. Twisting through the landscape and gently bringing you up to your humble little home. Usually pleasant to drive down.

Today, even the picturesque view of the Teton mountain ranges can make the drive worthwhile. Your eyelids heavy as you try to focus on the dirt road. Hands full of lead, fighting to lift them enough to turn the steering wheel. The longer you drive, the longer the road becomes. A permanent circuit that you've become trapped on.

The garage door doesn't lift when you press the button. 

You can't be brought to press it again. Parking the car in front of the door and stumbling toward the house with nothing but your keys and your phone. Lunch box, work bag, wallet, and everything else be damned. 

You don't remember if you locked the car. But if someone out there has the energy to drive all the way up here to steal from you, they can have whatever the hell they want. So long as they don't bother you. 

All you can think about is your bed. Quiet. Soft. Secluded. Where nobody can barge in and force you to listen to their daily gripes and needless gripings about the short skirt your coworker is wearing. Free of mindless drivers who pull out in front of you rather than waiting a few seconds longer. Away from bouncing deer who meander into the road and dare you to hit them. 

The sheets aren't on the bed. 

Right. Right. You put them in the wash this morning. They should be dry and ready to be put on the bed by now; the fitted sheet is all you want to grab. Blankets from the couch will suffice until you feel like making the bed properly.

But the dryer is empty.

And the washer is full of dry, unwashed sheets, still soaked by the detergent you poured in there before you left. How on gods green earth did you forget to turn the washer on, and why did it have to happen today?

The sound of running water is the only reason you remember turning the machine on. Echoing down the hall as you stumble over heavy feet that refuse to function like you want them to. Tripping on the edge of the rug that you know is there because, like most things today, nothing can go right. 

You'd pour yourself a drink, but with your luck, the damn glass would break the moment it's full. 

The couch squeaks as you all but fall onto it. Head hitting the pillow without a second thought while your hand reaches for a blanket, yanking it overtop of yourself. Five in the afternoon is too early to be going to bed, much less on a couch, but you can't bring yourself to give a damn. 

And you must fall asleep because, after a long silence, you think you hear the distant groan of the garage door opening and the muffled rumble of your car as it's moved inside. More silence, and then the dryer is humming down the hallway. 

Something clicks on the table, a glass of some sort placed upon it. The only indication you have that you're not alone. Before you're feeling lips against your forehead and the gentle caress of a calloused hand against your cheek. 

Your eyes feel as if they've been glued shut. Heavy, difficult to pry open, and when they do finally lift, your vision is blurry. But you recognize this figure, with their black t-shirt and dark brown hair. 

"Bad day?" Rhett hums, his lips not quite leaving your skin. 

It takes you a moment to find your voice. Feels like there's a rock lodged in your throat as you open your mouth, "horrible." 

And Rhett doesn't ask you to talk about it. Doesn't pry for details you'd rather not relive. Or pressure you into talking so that he can feel better about seeing you moping on the living room couch. No, he doesn't do that at all. He's only got one question. 

"Care for some company?" 

Your response comes in the form of you squirming backward. Creating space for him to squeeze into. It's just enough. His legs tangle with yours as a strong arm curls around your waist, drawing you to his warm chest. Where his heart thumps quietly, a dull pitter-patter that has your eyes feeling heavy once more. 

His face holds a million questions, but he doesn't say another word. Content to press another kiss to your forehead and close his eyes when you close yours. 

And as your consciousness begins to slip away once more, you wonder if his day has been similar to yours. Because there's a darkness beneath his eyes that wasn't there when he left at dawn. Still hums as you drift off, his hand stroking invisible shapes into your back, but it falls into a quiet stillness sooner than usual. 

"Turn your noggin' off 'n sleep," that deep voice grumbles against you. 

Even after a long day where everything has gone wrong, Rhett's still the one thing that always goes right. 

[soapy-soartp]

Day 17 of @whumperless-whump-event

Day:  17 - IN HOT WATER

Prompt: Dangerously high fever / Cool baths / "We have to get that number down somehow."

Sick baby hong er and caretaker XL

Fandom: TGCF

Characters: Hong'er, Xie Lian, Yin YU

When Xie Lian woke up he was met with the strange sight of a small dirty figure laying next to him. The poor thing was shivering and filthy and curled up trying to make themself as small as possible. Through his sleep-addled mind, he wonders why there's a child in their bed instead of his husband- oh. *Oh*.

Then it all clicks.

This child is his husband. He slowly sits up, trying not to disturb or frighten the child, who he now knows is little Hong’er.

“Hong’er…?” He quietly calls out, reaching out for the child but not quite touching.

The only thing he gets in response is a heartbreaking whimper and the little one curling up more. Xie Lian reaches out to wipe away some of the sweat and grime on the child but he reels back when he feels just how much heat is emanating from him. 

He pushes back Hong’er’s badly cut bangs and feels his forehead, he’s absolutely burning up!

That can’t be normal… 

So fearing for his husband's health he quickly opens his communication array and contacts Yin Yu for extra supplies and information, he doesn’t really know what to do with a thoroughly sick child. 

Yin Yu responds quickly and assures him that he’ll have everything they could possibly need at the shrine shortly. He also added that if Hong’er’s temperature was concerning it’s best to cool him down somehow.

He gripes at the fact they’re at Piqu shrine instead of paradise manor. It would’ve been a lot more comfortable for Hong’er there… though maybe it is safe here in a smaller village. He leaves Hong’er in Rouye’s care while he heeds the advice given to him.

Quickly, he begins to fill up the tub with water, forgoing the heating talisman that they’d usually use. He hopes the natural temperature of the river water is cool enough for the fever to go down. Well even if it weren’t at least Hong’er will be getting cleaned.

While he managed to half fill the tub with water, Yin Yu knocked and let himself in. He was carrying piles of pillows and blankets and a change of clothes for Hong’er.

“Your Highness,” the masked man greets with a nod.

“Yin Yu! Thank you for getting these!” He says with a smile as he reaches for the items, “Ah? What’s this?”

“Just some extra supplies, Your Highness, food, medical supplies, and such.”

“Thank you again, Yin Yu! Could I trouble you to find out more information on caring for a sick child?”

“Anything you need, Your Highness, I’ll be going now. I’ll send whatever I can find to you.”

Xie Lian nods as Yin Yu leaves. Then he turns to the child on the sleeping mats again. Walking over with the mass of blankets and pillows he puts them tk the side as he checks on the other again. Rouye was circling the still shivering child, adorably the silk band seems extremely concerned for the child.

“Hong Hong’er…?”

Another whine answers him as the child begins to tremble more.

“I'm going to lift you up and get you into a cold bath alright…” he explains slowly, waiting for a sign of resistance before carefully picking up the trembling body and bringing him over to the tub.

He slowly takes off the filthy clothes the child wore and lowers him into the water. He takes great care to make sure the other’s head will stay above water and his heart breaks a bit after seeing him flinch harshly as he gets lowered in.

“Sorry, but you're burning up and we need to get your temperature down,” he explains.

Hong’er finally opens his eyes, one a dark void and a bright blood red. He clings to his arms as if scared of the water, Xie Lian smiles sympathetically and lets him. He uses his other hand to pour water over the child, which causes even more shivering.

 Xie Lian keeps smiling softly at the child while he carefully explains what he’s doing, taking great care to not aggravate the clear injuries that the child has. He washes soft skin and knotted hair of the dirty and grim that's stuck to them. By the time he’s finished the water is a dark murky brown but Hong’er is clean, pliant, and his temperature slightly went down.

He motions for Rouye to hand him a fluffy towel that Yin Yu brought, himself not being able to move because Hong’er was still clinging to him. Rouye dutifully brings him the towel and he bundles up the sleepy child and brings him to their nest of pillows and blankets. 

He makes quick work of tending to the child’s injuries and dressing him in simple yet finely made red robes. Then he grabs some of the fruit Yin Yi brought and begins to hand feed the child as he rests against Xie Lian’s chest.

[joels6string]

Home For Christmas

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel senses your morose as December 25th approaches and sets out to make the holiday special.

Rating: T

Word Count: 948

Content: Christmas fluff, Joel trying his best, some folks call this thing here a gee-tar

The winter mountain chill was ruthless. Its unforgiving bite fought through the heat of the fire burning in the hearth and held you hostage, your fingers trembling as you took the kettle off the stove and poured the still-bubbling water into your mug. Joel was visible from the window, wrapped in your scarf and his jacket, leather gloves gripping the handle of a shovel as he cleared the snow that had been dumped overnight, Ellie tossing snowballs at him every so often with a gleeful shriek. 

You watched them as you sipped your tea, wanting to don your boots and join them but something was holding you back. A dark cloud that floated in this time of year as memories from decades past began to haunt you. Somehow the scene before you made it worse despite its pure, unhindered joy.

Christmas had always been your favorite time of year, the gifts, family, all the red and greens, golds and silvers, and it had all been ripped away. Your mood had begun to dampen at the start of December, only getting worse now in the week leading up to the day in question. Not even the decor of the town square was helping, so much was still missing.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” Joel greeted through numb lips, pressing them icily to your cheek, “S’just you and Ellie today, I’m headin’ out with Tommy to search the old resorts for supplies.”

All you gave him was a nod. They’d been up there countless times, how much could be left?

“How much more do you need, Joel?” Tommy griped as they entered the old ski lodge, Joel’s destination already in mind, “Christmas is in two days.”

“One more thing,” he replied, climbing over the rubble he’d memorized the quickest path through weeks ago, “Forgot it last time.”

“Your age is catchin’ up to you.”

“Watch it now…”

The trail back down the mountainside was slow, he was looking for something. Tommy searched alongside him, yelling out potential candidates all for Joel to shoot them down. No, this needed to be perfect.

“Maria still getting them for dinner?” Joel yelled over a gust of wind, “Reckon we got another hour before we need to head back.”

“Yeah, she is,” Tommy confirmed, “What about this one?”

You woke up to an empty bed on Christmas Eve, a heavy sigh slumping you back into your pillow as you stared at the mess of blankets beside you. Voices traveled up the stairs, Joel and what sounded like Tommy were bickering about something in your living room before the clock had struck 9 AM, at least Joel had taken care to close the door and allow you a late morning.

The smell of coffee hit your nose as you stepped out into the hallway, Joel’s flannel hanging loosely on your frame as you descended the steps.

“No, put it over here!” you heard Ellie yell, “So we can see it from the window!”

“Yeah, that’s good,” Joel agreed, out of breath and voice strained. What the hell were they doing?

With a furrowed brow you rounded into the living room, your jaw dropping as it came into view. Joel and Tommy were currently wrestling a pine tree into the left corner of the living room, right in front of the window, Ellie looking on as she directed the men to find the perfect spot. Boxes of decorations littered the furniture, and tangled strings of lights sat in piles around a free outlet, one still plugged in, its white lights glittering amidst the chaos.

“What is all this?” you asked quietly, Joel’s attention quickly snapping to you, a gentle grin settling on his face.

“What’s it look like?” he answered snarkily, abandoning Tommy who grunted at the newly added weight he was bearing to pull you into his chest.

For the first time in weeks, your smile sparkled into your eyes as you, Joel, and Ellie sifted through Joel’s collected decor, baubles and ornaments that had no pattern or reason joining the wooden beads and lights on the pine tree he’d found deep in the forests and cut down just yesterday. Ellie sat atop Joel’s shoulders to put the finishing touches on the tree, his forgotten star, the point almost touching the ceiling as they took a step back to marvel at the job well done. 

As the sun began to set after dinner had been shared, Joel gathered everyone in the living room, his newest creation set against the couch ready for its maiden voyage. Words weren’t necessary as you gathered around the space, a fire roaring once again as the tree sparkled, Joel’s fingers beginning to strum lightly over the strings of his guitar. (Play me!🎸)

The familiar notes of “Silent Night” filled the room, not a note out of tune as he hummed along with it, Ellie’s head leaning against your shoulder as the light disappeared behind the mountains, only the flames and Christmas lights setting a warm glow across the room until he was done. Ellie excused herself when he finished, bidding you both a good night softly, gratitude heavy in her voice. 

“Thank you,” you whimpered as Joel pulled you into his arms after flicking the TV on, the familiar opening scene of your favorite Christmas movie beginning to play.

“Merry Christmas, darlin’,” he cooed, never one for many words.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, the steady thrum of his heart against your ear too strong to resist the effects of. You woke the next morning in your bed, his body pressed tightly behind you, arm slung around your waist, Ellie’s eager voice yelling up the stairs.

“It’s fucking Christmas!”

Joel Miller Masterlist

[takoto]

how does a person put the breaks on a special interest/hyper fixation and pivot quickly to a different one

asking for a friend

[macaroni-rascal]

Montreal Worlds Day 1!

What a lovely day, it was so exciting, I kept turning to my friend who's here with me (shoutout Jillian I adore you) and going: "Holy shit! We are actually here!" I just kept having realizations over and over that a dream I'd had for a while has come true. So damn wonderful!

Some highlights and general thoughts:

Pairs is so much more exciting in person than on TV, and it's already incredibly exciting on TV. We were seated in a place where several teams did their sbs jumps and a good amount of their throws, and it was just fucking exhilarating.

Some teams who I never found that interesting on TV/streams were so fun to watch in person, which I wasn't expecting.

The difference in speed between teams is so hilariously glaring when you're in person, one team looks like a high speed train, the next is skating through molasses.

DEANNA DEANNA DEANNA DEANNA DEANNA.

ALSO DEANNA.

AND DEANNA.

THEN ALSO DEANNA.

That entire moment of Deanna and Max, from the moment they were announced to the about 45 minutes after they got their scores, I was on such a high. The energy in the building was just unbelievable. I'll never forget that. Sending them all the love for the free today!

(Break for a nice lunch, had fish sandwich and fries, and it hit the fucking spot.)

The women were a similar but also different story, some skaters I thought I liked a lot were a little less exciting in person, while other skaters who I'd not been that into captivated me completely, Young You was one such skater. I always thought she was pretty solid, but she's got an energy in person that had me transfixed. I loved her program.

Loena turned the fucking party, what a moment that was.

Isabeau is worse in person, jesus christ those jumps are heinous.

Unsurprisingly, Kaori's speed and ease across the ice was completely unmatched, it's a shame her was a little messy in the SP, glad she's still in it though, she can get it back in the free.

Amber's fall on her loop made me deflate like a sad balloon, it was right in front of me and I nearly cried.

Josefin Taljegard I adore you so much, such a cool skater to watch, her step sequence was so amazing.

Gubanova just not having a combo made people around me making the funniest sounds, and I had to laugh quietly to myself cause it was very comical.

So much fun!

Some general happening and thoughts on the venue:

Had to get my tickets printed and picked up when I thought they were on my phone, didn't bring a photo ID with me, nearly cried thinking I'd have to back to my airb&b and then all the way back to the venue, but alas, two pieces of government ID did the trick, and all was well. We laughed so hard about it later, but what a wild start to the whole event.

FUCK THE TINY ASS SEATS IN THE VENUE. Fuck them so hard, so uncomfortable, so awful, thank god I'm on the end of a row or I would have died, maybe?! Had trouble getting to sleep last night cause my right hip and back hurt so much from those seats. They were not created for 70% of the population who are not stick thin and/or children. That's my one gripe, and that's my rant.

Why must they take the caps off the bottles of all drinks people purchase? What is that? What is the point of that? My friend brought me a water, I didn't realize it had no cap, nearly poured water all over the people in front of me. Just so confusing to me. I'm sure there's a good(ish) reason, but wowza not my favourite. (Okay, that's my second small gripe, but it's more a confusion than an annoyance.)

My friend and I came back from lunch, and people were just full sitting in our seats with a big sign for a skater?????? We asked them to move, and an old lady in the row behind us got angry at us cause it was in the middle of a skater's program and she felt we should have waited to have the people move, which seemed wild to me. I could never be that person, you have a seat, go sit in that seat????????? The audacity????

GET TO THE BATHROOM EARLY! DON'T WAIT FOR THE LAST SKATER'S SCORE BEFORE THE ICE FLOOD, YOU WILL BE WAITING 8 YEARS TO PEE. We got there early every time, and when we left the bathroom, the line was maybe 100 people long.

God, one more thing about the seats, they truly made us both (me and my friend) so unhappy and uncomfy, we are full missing the first three groups of men today because it is not worth being in pain for those early groups. Four groups is our cut off for how long we can be in the venue without a significant break. Amen.

HAVING TO MUCH FUN, DREAM COME TRUE, DEANNA WORLD CHAMPION TONIGHT THANK YOU VERY MUCH!

[winterbonesthings]

For the WIP game gotta know about CRACK courtship by tea, sounds already hilarious

Sorry it took so long for me to get to this, I don't like answering asks on the phone, and I haven't been on the comp due to some life stuff! I'll repost the prompt and then give you a snippet!

Prompt:

Courtship by Tea - So there's this very old and almost lost tradition in Sokovia of asking for someone's hand by making tea, pouring only one cup, and taking the first sip before handing it over for the other person to drink from it. Bucky doesn't know anything about it (obviously), but one day Zemo is really getting on his nerves, so Bucky makes him tea (the worst tea he can manage, he even heats the water in the microwave), pours a single cup, drinks from it very loudly and shoves it at Zemo, who almost drops it because technically Bucky just asked to marry him. 

Snippet:

“I want tea, oh I could just go for a nice cup of tea after all that, I swear he said it twelve times on the ride home alone not to mention how many times he complained about it over comms on the damn mission,” Bucky griped to himself as he opened and slammed cabinet doors until he found a box of teabags.  “I’m sorry that my culture offends you, James,” Zemo said, coming out of the tiny bathroom in Bucky’s apartment, toweling off his hair. Zemo had been the last to shower, yet somehow, he hadn’t bothered to make himself any tea. 

[flukewarm]

still on black paladin allura

and also i will never leave her behind. i know the production timeline of this show was a mess and whatever but it still annoys me that a show with 70% poc in the main cast managed to be. That Way.

you are going to look me in the eyes, and tell me that this character, whose father poured his soul into building these machines, whose father was taken advantage of by someone he trusted, whose people were exploited and wiped out because of the Big Bad’s Greed, DOESN’T get to take the lead on taking the oppressor down?

was there no greater message in allura inheriting zarkon’s old lion, inheriting her father’s title, his creations and his fight to reclaim and/or revenge literally everything else that once belonged to her, that some asshole who Thought He Had The Right took away. to stop that from happening to anyone else. over “hmm big brother told me i was destined for More”

the shows over now yeah but my point is (for me and everyone who didn’t like how it went) fiction is important, especially if it tackles the topic of rebellion, ESPECIALLY if that rebellion is against an Empire. regardless of whether it is a children’s show, you AS SOMEONE TELLING A STORY, should be aware of how these narratives can unavoidably be contextualised in real life. you Are making a statement, whether you think anyone will catch it or not.

having a story about an oppressive empire featuring characters who are explicitly from REAL cultures that are still dealing with colonialism, white supremacy and their effects, and then shunting them off to the side in favour of their lighter counterparts’ stories Says Something. in voltron’s case, they (at best) didn’t have time to properly say anything worthwile about any of these topics or, (at worst) were too scared to do so.

if you (as an audience, or as a creator) are going to engage with fictional narratives of decolonisation, narratives of fighting the oppressor, don’t be scared to Apply the story, that’s what its there for. fiction is an escape from reality. it can be gripe water, it can be a tool to send messages under the guise of make-believe.

[womanofwords]

Revenge of the Sidekicks

Hero and Mayor laughed as they ate more mini muffins and drank more fancy coffee. "I can't believe that happened to you!" Mayor gasped, laughing as they held a teaspoon between forefinger and thumb.

"Me neither! It was so embarrassing!" Hero poured themselves more coffee before divulging more information. "There I was, at the red carpet, and that horrible protester threw paint all over me. Ruined my outfit."

"Honestly, the people in this town are so ungrateful!" Mayor griped. Sidekick and Assistant looked on with envy.

"I can't believe it! All of this is taxpayers' money! And they're gossiping like my granny's book club!" Sidekick hissed.

"And to think that Mayor made me get those mini cupcakes during my lunch break! I didn't have time to eat a full lunch because of him!" Assistant snapped.

"They think they're so cool and so fancy. If people could see and hear them as they did this . . ." Sidekick growled.

"Sidekick! Fill up the coffee pot! We're running low!" Hero hollered.

"Assistant, answer my calls while I'm in a meeting with Hero," Mayor ordered.

"We'll talk later," Assistant said, running over to their boss's desk.

Later, at a dive bar that nobody reputable would drink at, Sidekick and Assistant complained about their bosses. "I do all the work, and he gets all the credit," Sidekick complained.

"I know the feeling," Assistant said. "Mayor has me set up cameras for his press conferences. There's supposed to be a whole other person for that, but he says that money's tight. Yeah, we all know where the money's going."

"Their sponsors don't know," Sidekick said.

"Not yet," Assistant said, grinning.

(PAUSE)

The next time that Assistant and Hero had a meeting, it was just after a press conference. "I don't get why people want to live in tents when there are houses and apartments," Hero griped.

"People make some very weird lifestyle choices. Don't worry about it," Mayor advised. "Don't get me started on all the dumb haircuts I've seen people sporting."

"The voters have evolved to look and be more stupid every single year. I would ask what was in the water, but nobody's going to look at that."

As the two laughed and drank more coffee, their right hands trained the cameras on them and smiled.

When Hero and Mayor walked out of the mayoral office, the footage had already gone viral. Mayor opened his phone when the buzzing of notifications got his attention.

"Damn, did I forget a meeting or - WHAT?!" Mayor yelled.

"What? What is it?" Hero asked.

"Someone taped our wind-down meeting and it's everywhere. We're ruined," Mayor groaned.

"WHAT?!" Hero groaned, as they frantically called their agent. Sidekick and Assistant grinned as they watched from a corner.

"I reckon it's time that I edited my CV," Assistant said.

"Me too," Sidekick said.

[pbaintthetb]

For the author ask, your BTS commentary of your fav scene of Pour Some Memory Down :)

oooh an exciting one (and dangerous asking me for a commentary) It's the second (first full) scene of Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang on the pier. There were a few options but there's a lot of stuff inthis bit that I liked and also them on the pier is the core and inspo for this fic

Cut for length

Nie Huaisang is still floating calmly in the lake, his words about the Xuanwu rolling through Jiang Cheng’s head.

The Xuanwu! Simply put Nie Huaisang is a lying liar who lies- and more importantly it's about how Jiang Cheng doesn't pick up on it because his mind is sort of always stuck on Nie Huaisang being weaker or needing help. He's never considered how, if huaisang cana't swim, he got out of that cave. And he's starting to question that now- although there's a later paragraph where JC shows how he's trying to not think about that and how it means nhs is a liar. I tend to write JC as putting nhs on a pedestal while simultaneously having infinite gripes with him. THey're complicated boys.

Jiang Cheng is still standing on the pier, the rain is pelting but the worst of the storm is yet to come. The dry riverbed gasping it in, unaware-

Continuining as is the case with this whole fic, JC's mental/headspace is abysmal, like words cannot. Also lots of pathetic fallacy. It's kind of meant to be a metaphor for jc's trauma, I guess. It's bad and he's soaking the pain in and moping in it- but he's got a whole week of this and it's gonna get worse. Just like the riverbed- and JC doesn't want to think about that either

The ground surrounding the pier is wet and seems less like ash, the river a gaping mouth trying to swallow it up

Ash and burning vs wetness and rain were the two big things about this fic. Again, I'm a basic cheap ass bitch, pathetic fallacy. They're fighting each other just like Jiang Cheng's thoughts! The rain extinguishes the fire and washes away the ash! but it's dangerous and damaging in its own way. You have to be careful with it. They complement each other, just like sangcheng.

“Last time you were the one in the water and I was the one sitting on the edge of the lake.” A pause. “Different bit of lake I guess.” “It’s the same bit of lake.” 

This is probably one of my favourite exchanges in the whole fic tbh. Different but the same, many years and many changes but still them, maybe in some ways unrecognisable, but still them. There is also something in here about how JC is trying to cling to good things that have changed from him and while he feels like he needs it, it's not good for him. Jiang Cheng in his jc way, is trying to say a lot more to nhs than it just being the same bit of lake. NHS is unfortunatley not a mind reader, although today he really is trying. He's starting to realise that maybe JC is just of big a liar as NHS himself is, just in different ways.

For jc's part he's saying, we can be those carefree kids again, right? we can? Nothing has changed, right? We're still us, right? and he knows it's not but he wants it to be.

Then, Nie Huaisang’s eyes are so very, very close to Jiang Cheng’s own, staring at him unblinkingly. Water streams down his face, dripping off his nose- and it’s raining right now, sure, but Huaisang’s mouth looks so very wet and-

The first kiss fake out! I think this is actually the only one I intended to be a fake out, all the other ones were times I wanted them to kiss but decided it felt weird to have them have a big sloppy while one of them was like... dissassociating, or crying, or hitting the other

Also, Huaisang totes knows what he's going

“-did you want me to die? Did you want us to die? Did you want yourself to die?”

Jiang Cheng starting to realise that NHS might not be so alright- and JC starting to really properly break out of his fog. This is actually partly why nhs drags jc into the river he's starting to realise jc worries about him so he's, very very poorly, trying to get jc more in the moment but making him fuss about him. For his part, JC is doing his usual "break your legs bluster" but as he goes on he starts to wonder and worry about what NHS was doing

Some of the anger begins to turn to fear as his words catch up with him, but it’s still unbelievably, wonderfully, unbearably sharp . Had that been what Huai-

as I was saying above, the strategy might be sus, but NHS sort of flics JC out of his introspection and back into the now- and JC evens start to wonder if that's what NHS was doing before he gets distracted by nhs again and also his complte denial and inability to consider nhs outside his framework of the "weaker one" at this point in the story- until yanno, he starts wondering how come nhs copes with grief better (debateable) and if that makes nhs stronger

“I said that [killing JC/NHS} that would kind of defeat the whole point,” the other sect leader mutters, like a petulant child. (And Jiang Cheng knows some.)

Jin Ling is the petulant child. But yes, some more light on NHS' agenda! To make sure JC doesn't accidentally drown himself in his own grief, to help JC with the worst week of his life by distracting him- a tactic that uh, JC maybe doesn't appreciate but that's the fic. JC, of course, has no idea what NHS is talking about and just tries to ignore it. Also this is NHS so even when he's talking about pretty serious things (his fear that JC is heading towards his own destructive spiral leading to his grave) he's gotta be a little brat about it. Can't show real genuine emotion, let alone care, ot Jiang Cheng eh?

IDk I felt it was very them, they're both allergic to letting each other they care about the other becuase of the gulf between them, and the history, and the current circumstances of their life, and their own personal traumas. But they care, they do.

Oh also, if I'm talking about it, while NHS is somewhat concerned about JC being possibly suicidal he IS mostly being facetious- it's like, JC has dealt with this awful week for several years and he's still kicking. NHS is more worried that it's not sustainable and has also realised that maybe it's not fair that JC always has to deal with it alone. JC does not (in his own internal thoughst at least) consider himself suicidal or wanting to die. He just... isn't entirely emotionally connected to the phsycial plane at this point in time. Lastly something to note that never really comes up because NHS doesn't notice and JC doesn't say but um admittedly to an extent nHS being here has made jC worse- which is why nhs has weird fluctuating concern. JC can't completely disconnect in a way that he typically woud (Unhealthy coping behaviour all the same) because he needs to entertain/interact with Huaisang. This means that JC actually has to deal with all his emotions in this week for once (not that he does that either, all the cut off thoughts) as opposed to competely checking out for a week and coming back to himself surrounded by alcohol ocassionally