#probably easier to read

[whumblr]

Can I please have a drabble where emery beats up zayne really bad (you can decide the reasoning for it) so he goes to jay for help

LOVE YOUR WRITING, IT IS AMAZING!!!

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1

-

The gun crashed hard against his face and this time Zayne couldn’t contain the grunt of pain it forced out.

He clenched his teeth. Too late. The weakness had already slipped and it only spurred Emery on. Another smash of steel and Zayne fell back against the shoulders of the two men flanking him. 

"Every time I think you can't get any more worthless, you effectively find some way to prove me wrong," Emery said, voice calm but his face twisted in rage.

Zayne clenched his jaw, keeping his own rage in check and keeping his eyes down, focusing on the lapel of Emery’s suit jacket, pinpointing where he’d have to drive a knife in.

“Look at me,” Emery hissed and grabbed Zayne’s chin, forcing his head up.

Zayne panted lightly, shallow breaths passing between clenched teeth, biting back his groans, and he glared at his boss.

A sharp inhale, as if the man was readying for another rant. A short pause. Then the hand fell away. "Let go of him." And despite his best efforts, Zayne’s knees buckled under his full weight and he crumbled to the floor.

"Get out of my sight, Zayne." Emery turned his back on him and the two pawns stepped away. As quietly and as fast as he could, Zayne pushed himself to his feet, stood straight, and even with no one watching him, walked as calmly and as tall as his ribs allowed him out of the office. Until the door behind him fell closed.

He hissed out a breath. Pressed a hand to his ribs, let out a breathless swear. He forced himself forward, not succumbing to the urge to lean back against the door, and to drag himself from the office instead.

-

“What in the bloody hell happened to you?!”

Jay watched, astonished, as Zayne stumbled through the hallway, holding himself up with a hand on the wall whenever he could, nearly tumbling right over the threshold to the living room. He caught himself just in time, leaning heavily against the doorframe, arm cradling his ribs and he blew out a shuddery exhale before he spoke.

"Can I... Can I—ugh fuck—" He clenched his teeth, tightened the arm around his torso. "Can I borrow your first aid kit?”

Jay blinked, having expected something else. But if he wanted to do this by himself, fine by him. He waved towards the bathroom. “Help yourself. You know where it is.”

Zayne gave a short dismissive nod in thanks. One that didn’t deter Jay.

He followed but kept a safe distance; leaned in the door to the bedroom, arms crossed, watching through the open bathroom door how Zayne raised a shaky arm and got the first aid kit out. For Zayne to come here, in this state, showing his weakness… it must be really bad.

As Zayne lifted his shirt with one hand, Jay quite couldn’t see how bad; his back seemed uninjured. But he could see his muscles twitch with every wince, saw how Zayne shook so hard he fumbled everything he got his hands on. Heard him curse as he picked at the sticky part of a large plaster and tried to keep his shirt up at the same time. A trembling hand reached out to the bottle of disinfectant, missed, tipped it right off the sink and Zayne followed, lowering himself with one hand clamped around the sink, and it was like watching a man who was fifty years older.

Jesus, even I am handling this better when I’m alone, Jay couldn’t help but think. Then again, Emery wasn’t one to hold back, while Zayne did. He finally spoke up. "You know I have every right to just kick you out, right?"

"Yeah."

"And that I absolutely don't have to put up with this. I could poke at that goddamn broken nose of yours, laugh in your face and slam the door in it."

"Yeah," Zayne said again with a slight nod, and a long exhale as he stood straight again, holding himself up on the sink with both hands trying to get his elbows to stop trembling. Then, after a beat: "But you're not like that."

Jay froze. Made a face as if Zayne had just insulted him, then his shoulders relaxed in a sigh. No. No, he wasn't. He unfolded his arms and stepped into the bathroom.

"Give me that." He took the kit, threw everything back in – “You don’t need this,” he said, taking the roll of bandages from Zayne’s hand – snapped the kit shut, and pressed it against Zayne, pushing him backwards, out of the bathroom. Zayne followed along and Jay gently lowered him onto the bed.

"Take off your shirt."

Zayne hissed when he reached up to grab the neck of his t-shirt and faltered and Jay just sighed along with him. He gestured his palms up for Zayne to raise his arms far as he could, grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, careful not to snag on his elbows.

"Fuck me..." Jay muttered behind his teeth, shooting a look up at the ceiling. The things he was getting into... Purple streaks crept up over the side of Zayne’s ribs. Just above his navel was a large round bruise, barely a speck of skin colour left, as if they’d kept aiming for the same spot. While on the side of his abdomen, Jay could literally count the punches.

"I thought," he started as his eyes lingered over the deep purple bruises, "you said Emery was a weak prick who couldn't punch a staple through his files."

"Still true," Zayne groaned. "Which is why he likes to hold a gun or use his pawns as meat tenderizers first." He tilted his head. “Or both—Ow!” He winced and gave Jay an indignant look—Jay pulled away and held up his hands in a placating gesture. Zayne continued his rant.

“The man’s like a fucking toddler. Insisting that he too can help, so you give him a plastic hammer and let him wail on a few nails and he’s happy but it does fuckall.”

Jay hummed and brought up a cloth with disinfectant, pressed it gently to Zayne’s cheekbone. “I mean, he got you good here.”

“The gun got me.”

Jay again hummed an appeasing tone, like one would with a ranting toddler, and pressed a tube of arnica in Zayne’s hands. “Here, you can do this,” he said, and stood straight, holding up a finger in a ‘wait a minute’ gesture. He came back with a pack of frozen peas, wrapped it in a towel, and waited until Zayne had spread a copious amount of gel over his bruises. Zayne groaned, threw his head back and clenched his teeth as Jay pressed the towel against his ribs.

“Hold that,” Jay said, taking Zayne’s hand and pressing it over the bag so he could hold it himself. “Try to cool all those deep bruises.”

“How often you used this bag?”

“Let’s just say those peas aren’t for eating anymore.”

Zayne finally gave a smile. He let himself fall back onto the bed, only moving every few minutes to press his peas to another bruise. “Thank you,” he whispered, in such a low voice that he probably hoped Jay wouldn’t hear as he left the room. But he did.

-

The next morning, Jay puttered about in the kitchen, preparing a hearty breakfast. They could both use something a little filling.

As he set the table, he glanced at Zayne. He was sitting on the couch, watching the news. His hands were shaking, fingers digging into his knee, and it didn’t look like that full night of sleep had really helped.

"Does it still hurt?" Jay asked.

Zayne looked up, as if Jay's voice brought him back from somewhere far, far away and as if he didn’t quite grasp the meaning of the question. Well, given his injuries, not really hard to consider why.

Jay nodded at his hand. Zayne followed his gaze, lightly flexed his fingers and turned his hand as if surprised to see it shaking so much. With a twitch in its movements, he clenched it into fist, trying to hide the trembling. When that didn't work, he hid it behind his body. He looked at the tv again for a moment. "It does," he said, voice remarkably clear yet ever so fragile.

"Come then," Jay said. He turned the tv off, not even fully registering how the news anchors were shaking their head, lamenting the state of the justice system where violence in prisons just kept getting out of hand and why they’d even have guards if they just looked the other way when someone got shanked in the ribs thirty times. Jay put the remote back down and held out a hand to Zayne. "I've made you— I mean… there's breakfast."

Zayne meekly let Jay guide him to the table. For a moment, Jay thought he was going catatonic, just staring ahead, eyes dull. But when Jay placed a plate in front of him, he glanced up. Slowly, Jay saw the lights come back on as his eyes roamed over his favourites: scrambled eggs, toast, thick slices of bacon, a steaming cup of coffee. His jaw clenched for a second and Jay swore he saw his shoulders shudder. But then it passed and a smile, though a little forced, crept over his face as he picked up his fork.

“Thanks.”

-

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully @rougenoirofthepurpleterror

@susiequaz12 @whump-me-all-night-long @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime

@freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky @redstainedsocks

@hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @break-so-beautifully @approach-me-and-ill-cry @painsandconfusion

@afabulousmrtake @wormwriting @soopytime @whumpedydump @pickleking8

@itsmyworld98 @whumpifi @painless-and-colourful @withdrawingramen @lolrpop

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

[demaparbat-hp]

Here I am, pushing the Jian Li (Akai Kotou! Zuko) = Jinshi (The Apothecary Diaries) agenda.

[egophiliac]

A-anime?

you know, sometimes I forget that Twst is actually an isekai that starts with the protagonist getting run over by an inexplicable horse-drawn carriage. and every time I'm reminded is a delight because that's AMAZING.

also. look. okay. there's a lot of very fun stuff in the trailer but I am obsessed with that Crowley surprised pikachu face. me when I spend all my keys and gems literally hours before they announce overblot SSRs and drop the anime trailer:

[wildewinged-fr]

writes my first bio in ages and it's just the worst guy. the most rancid little man.

[burningcheese-merchant]

So there's this Shadowvanilla fic on Ao3 Im fairly certain you know about, and in It SM and PV link up to eachother's minds/feelings/souls via their souljams touching, and its pretty sweet since since they're on their chests, the two basically have to hug to connect.

Which made me think, what about the other beasts and ancients? BS and GC would be by far the weirdest imo bc she would have to touch her forehead to his chest??? Which depending on the size difference It could still just be a hug.

SS and WL would touch their weapons (sword and staff), which can comes off as distant or cold, despite the fact they're about to peer into eachother's very being.

ES and MF suffer because their's are on their forehead and their ancient's are on their weapons😭😭 imagine HB shield to EG's forehead, that'd be awkward af

I'm not actually sure what you're referring to 😅 is it Jambound? I think something like that happens in it? I don't really remember, I read the first 3 chapters a while ago and that's it haha (I really don't have the time to read fanfics, especially not ones as long as that one (it's like 15 chapters long now and still going with no end in sight, isn't it??? Goodness)). I never really did much of anything on AO3 tbh, I honestly just go there to write and post my own dumb garbage and then vanish into the aether again

Regardless. I always vibed with the concept of the Ancients and Beasts connecting/strengthening their existing connection through their Soul Jams. But the way I've tried to get around the fact that most of their placements are... cumbersome and don't really lend themselves to that (White Lily's staff and Silent Salt's sword, for example) is, I think of it as... Through the sharing of the Soul Jams, they're all already bound to one another, yeah? So do they NEED to have them be a component in the physical aspect of this? Do White Lily and Silent Salt NEED to have their staff and sword clink together to express that intimacy? Or can they simply embrace each other nice and tight, staff and sword set aside nearby, and their souls can resonate just with that action? The Soul Jam not physically being in their hands doesn't really mean it's left their ownership and they've completely lost access to its power, I don't think; we saw that with how the Light of Abundance refused to answer to Smoked Cheese when he took it, and how Golden Cheese could keep fighting Burning Spice for a while even without it (albeit weaker). So idk if they need the Soul Jams to touch so they can feel closer to each other. I think they've all been naturally imbued with that power at least to some degree and thus don't really 100% need the physical Soul Jams to facilitate that closeness. If I'm already super glued to somebody then not putting my hands on their belt buckle or whatever isn't going to make us any less stuck together ykwim

With that said I like to imagine BS's being particularly sensitive since it's embedded in his chest. GC can press her hand down on it, or lay her head against it, and feel his heart beating through it, if only faintly. Maybe it feels warm to the touch, and grows warmer and shines brighter the faster his heart races. Maybe his breath catches in his throat when she touches it because it feels different there than it does when she touches any other part of his body. Maybe it acts as a cute little nightlight when they're curled up together in bed. Maybe it burns hot like a coal and glows like the fire in a hearth when they're deep in the throes of passion. Maybe, as a charming little gesture, she actually will touch her forehead to his chest so they can listen to that soft little clink that sounds the little kiss Abundance and Destruction shares. Maybe a certain something stirs within them both when she does it, maybe not. But it's cute. They're so in love that even their Soul Jams want to make out. Lol

Also any excuse to put her face in those big strong man titties is 👌👌👌 in her opinion

[hinamie]

psa if any of u notice that im not drawing megumi or nobara w their canon scars as often its bc a. im sick of tagging spoilers when the manga is no longer ongoing b. atm im mostly drawing silly sketches and fashion pieces that i don't think necessarily warrant them all having their battle scars included and c. im sick of tagging spoilers hope this helps

[sengenism]

Your post about Senku being a Gen hater is pure gold, because it's so funny and true. Senku darling, why are you so obsessed with a fake magician? Because that's the real question, why would Gen in particular bother you when there were many similar people in the entertainment world in his time, why not just ignore him and move on? But no, Senku read his books just to criticize him and call him a fake in the stone world, I know you said that Gen's attitude maybe bothers him because it clashes with his own extremely honest personality, but the truth is that just like you said, Senku has no problem with Gen lying and manipulating as long as he's on his side.

omg anon EXACTLYYY! u put my tags/thoughts in such a perfect way THANK YOUU

like lmao yeah senku was SO not amused about being lied and manipulated to. not that he was ever fully a victim of gen's scams but he didn't like it regardless. held that strong negative opinion throughout 3700+ years senku is a #real hater

but then gen starts to turn the manipulation onto others for senku's sake...

(of course, while still making sure to call gen a fraud in his head here though)

and suddenly they're reading each other's minds and scamming other people together

like ??? u've GOT to be kidding me bro be fr

[haarute]

First poll Second poll

good luck!!

[dunmeshistash]

in regards to skin tone variation in DM, i do think a lot of it is colorism/racism too. theres a few characters of color, but not many (just like how theres some fatter characters, but none of them are main characters (even senshi & other dwarves arent really depicted as fat)).

ryoko kui has surface representation for these people, but it lacks much substance, and the brown characters she does draw arent given brown facial features, and are almost always colored with very ashy skin. a lot of them just look like a recolored white person (especially cithis, kaka, & kiki). her random portraits of characters who dont actually appear in the series otherwise tend to be much better about this, but the actual characters that show up and play a part all seem to suffer from this issue.

im not saying kui is like, super-duper racist and we all need to stop reading DM etc etc, but i think its important to recognize and point out everyday/usually-overlooked colorism & racism when we see it, and i know im not the first or only person to point this out about her character designs. if she can draw fat people and actual brown people as part of the portraits, why cant she or wont she do the same for any of the featured characters in the series?

(i know the orcs are fat, but its not a good thing the only consistently fat people are the ones who are a fantasy race based off of violent racial stereotypes, who are also pig people, while none of the main cast of "real" humans are fat except *maybe* the dwarves, who still have small waists and flat stomachs, and the lord of the island, who is depicted as corrupt & decadent)

Well yeah.

I'm just a lore blog so I don't like to get too into real life issues or make assumptions about how the author feels about these subjects. What I talked about on the skin tone post was assumptions as to why she thought it would be important to show skin tone variations on certain races as a character design choice. (In the sense that her character design is very purposeful)

I realize some people over praise Kui's designs when most of it is pretty safe for what it is, but even if it's just a step closer to better representation it's something that's rare to see in anime. So I understand why some people get so excited about it.

It is important to realize this isn't the ideal either (Dark skinned characters with the same features as the others, mostly well build characters on the thinner side) but I personally don't like to criticize these type of stories on what it "could/should have been".

As someone who is fat and not white, I'm happy we get some diversity in dungeon meshi. I hope this opens up the possibility of better character design in the future even if what we got now wasn't perfect.

It shouldn't be the case that this piece of art filled me with so much joy I teared up cause I had never seen someone with a similar body to mine drawn with so much respect and objectivity. But unfortunately that's the world we live in and I don't think it's wrong to be happy for what we get for now while acknowledging it's not perfect and that it should be better.

I'm also super happy the anime chose to make the dark characters even darker.

[crossthread]

No jokes here. The Navy’s best pilot and the Navy’s best admiral. Between them, eight air-to-air combat kills and five stars. These were men who commanded respect with or without your approval. This was the picture of ruthless competence.

Debriefing (& Other Stories) • part 2 of Easier Done Than Said by @compacflt

[lulu-the-bugaboo]

Seeing how neat Ace's handwriting is as a child (especially compared to Luffy lol) just makes me imagine how patient Sabo must have been with teaching him

He probably had to correct him several times, and when Ace eventually got frustrated and lost his patience, he would encourage him and compliment his progress

They make so soft

[aprillikesthings]

the joys of language learning when you have auditory processing issues

Advice blog: watch TV shows in your TL (target language) first with English subtitles, then the TL captions, then no captions!

Me: I watch shows in my native language with captions because otherwise I miss 10-50% of the dialogue.

Advice blog: Don't turn on captions on "comprehensible input" or teaching videos, or read transcripts of audio lessons--you learned to speak your native language as a child without those things!

Me: ....I literally didn't, though. I had speech therapy when I was six because I couldn't make the "th" sound, and I mixed up pronouns. The specific example I saw in my paperwork was that instead of saying "She went to the store" I'd say "Her went to de store."

Advice blog: Don't worry about accent differences! European Spanish and Latin-American Spanish are very similar.

Me: ....I sometimes struggle to understand people from England, speaking English, unless they literally do the stereotypical BBC voice.

Advice blog: Pimsleur moves painfully slow and focuses almost entirely on listening and pronunciation

Me: OH THANK GOD that's the part I'm really really bad at!!

[s2pdoktopus]

Different ways Wei Wuxian can find out that his shidi is in fact a husband, a father or both (because gods It would be so funny)

Situation A.

Wei Wuxian visits Jin Ling who refused an invitation to night hunt. He thought his nephew was overworking himself and needed a break. A break that Wei Wuxian will harass Jin Ling into taking. It's his specialty and he had a lot of practice with Jiang Cheng.

When he arrived, he found Jin Ling distressed. Apparently a child he was babysitting decided onesidedly that they are playing hide-and-seek then disappeared. The Koi tower is filled with metaphorical snakes who might do harm to this child. Fairy, as it happened, was currently with Jiang Cheng who is in the Jin sect territory to handle a yao in Jin Ling's request because only Zidian can deal with this particular monster and Fairy can help him track it.

Wei Wuxian has questions about this scenario;

1. Why is the sect leader of Lanling Jin on baby sitting duty?

2. Why would anyone harm this child?

3. Who is this child?

Jin Ling is in baby sitting duty because Jiang Cheng brought the child with him to Lanling specifically to make Jin Ling not join the night hunt. It's very manipulative of him and very effective. And now there's a missing guest from Yunmeng Jiang that Jin Ling has to find.

Wei Wuxian promises Jin Ling that they will find this kid before Jiang Cheng arrives to break his legs.

So they go separate ways to find this child, they search the koi tower up and down for any glimpse of purple hiding in the corners.

It is Wei Wuxian who found the kid. Apparently the child has been moving from their hiding spots every time Jin Ling is near. The only reason Wei Wuxian found them is because he is very clearly not a Jin and the kid thought he wouldn't report to Jin Ling. "It's cheating to ask his disciples to help him find me." The kid sulked, "But I had practice! None of my shijie and shixiong ever finds me in lotus pier." The kid boasts.

Wei Wuxian asks, "And your parents don't worry when you disappear for long periods of time like this?"

The kid grins, "No. A-Die let's me hide under his table and he tells everyone I wasn't there! He makes me study though. It's boring."

Before Wei Wuxian can ask further questions, Jiang Cheng's voice echoes in the golden tower, "Jiang Rui! You come out right now or I will break your legs."

Instead of fearing the threats of broken legs and looking apologetic, the kid brightens up, "A-Die is back!" Then, before Wei Wuxian's brain can process the words the kid is gone.

Situation B.

Wei Wuxian infiltrated a group of demonic cultivators. There were a good number of them and he wanted to see what exactly they were planning to do together. They plan on taking revenge on the Sect Leader of Yunmeng Jiang, apparently. They were once greater in number and Jiang Cheng had raided their main base. Now all that's left are them and they want revenge.

Now, Wei Wuxian does not approve of them planning to kill his shidi whom he almost died for but he also thought, of course Jiang Cheng made so many enemies they banded together just to be his haters club.

They have a plan on how to torment Jiang Cheng. And apparently, it involves hurting someone precious to him. Not Jin Ling, no. They don't want to anger both the Jiang sect and the Jin sect, not to mention, Jin Ling is already a full-fledged cultivator who can defend himself. They will hurt Jiang Cheng's child instead.

Whatever other plans the demonic cultivators divulged did not enter Wei Wuxian's brain after that reveal. Jiang Cheng has a child Wei Wuxian didn't know about. He has so many questions. How old is the child? What's their name? When's their birthday? Jiang Cheng has a wife? Who? Who managed to meet the impossible standard and why did Wei Wuxian not know of her? Are there more baby nieces or nephews Wei Wuxian is unaware of? Why wasn't he informed? Is Wei Wuxian even allowed to see them? These questions can be answered later because first he has a Jiang Cheng hater's club to disband, disfigure, dismember and disembowel. They don't get to hurt his shidi's children. No one gets to hurt Wei Wuxian's not-family.

(Wei Wuxian receives an invite to the Jiang heir's birthday party, an invitation written by Jiang Cheng himself demanding that Wei Wuxian gift his child something good to make up for all the birthdays he missed. Torturing those shidi haters was worth it.)

Situation C.

It's been a good few years since Wei Wuxian came back from the dead. Today feels like a deja vu of the day he returned. Currently he is trapped in an immortal binding net, the baby Lans who are not so baby anymore are trapped, too. He was calling for Lan Zhan when a Yunmeng Jiang disciple came to them.

"Oh good, Young master, if you would so kindly free us, my husband wouldn't have to destroy your nets." Wei Wuxian says. Again, he thinks.

The Jiang disciple, instead of doing as asked, cheered. the disciple fired a flare and in no time at all, Jiang Cheng arrived. he scans the surroundings, scowls at his trapped ex brother then levels the disciple with a glare. "There better be an explanation for that flare, brat."

The disciple grins, "I caught the Yiling Patriarch, A-Die. You ought to sing my praises for this achievement." The kid cheekily says, as they avoid Jiang Cheng's grabby hands, leaping and then running away.

Silence enveloped them as the kid's laugh faded.

"You have a kid?!"

"Let's get you out of that net."

"No! Don't change the subject! you have to explain the kid first!"

"Right, you're married to a man so you don't know. Wei Wuxian, when a man and a woman love each other very much-"

"That's not what I mean and you know it!"

(There's 400 nets. Again. because this is Jiang Cheng and it's for his kid. Jin Ling donated another 100 nets for his cousin to use. There were 500 nets in that forest that night. Thankfully, none of them were destroyed. The little Jiang heir came back to his father bearing a ghost general who is also trapped in a net. Jiang Cheng chased him all the way back to lotus pier, the Jiang disciples put the nets away before following their masters.)

Situation D.

Wei Wuxian doesn't know why but Lan Qiren asked for him. There's probably a rule he broke but he breaks them enough times that he doesn't know which rule warranted the summon. What Lan Qiren does is not scold him but ask, what is the best gift one could give to the heir of the Jiang sect?

The Jiang heir is turning 100 days old soon and Lan Qiren would very much like to give the child the best gift from the Lan. There's probably some political reasoning to this gift giving competition. Something along the lines of the child being a bundle of joy for simply possessing the blood of the Jiang, like a ray of hope after the reveal of decades old betrayals. Something about looking good by giving a baby a simple gift.

To Wei Wuxian it feels like ice water dumped onto him. He severed their ties but he didn't think of how it changes their relationship, how that change will manifest itself.

Jin Zixuan had graciously invited Wei Wuxian to Jin Ling's 100 day celebration. Jiang Cheng didn't even tell him that his child was born.

(some angst for funsies)

Situation E.

Wei Wuxian is drawn to go back to Yunmeng. There are waves of rumors saying the name, "the Twin Prides of Yunmeng." He has to see. He has to know: who did Jiang Cheng replace him with? Are they worthy of the name? (How could Jiang Cheng use that name for himself and Wei Wuxian's replacement?)

On his way, he found two Jiang cultivators night hunting close to home. He accompanied them, found himself praising them for their team work and coordination, and watched them be thanked by the town's people. "The Twin Prides of Yunmeng Jiang", they call the kids. Jiang Cheng is there, too, shoulders stiff ever since he saw Wei Wuxian. The town's head says, "you must be very proud of your children, sect leader Jiang."

Jiang Cheng, "they're immature and still have a long way to go." But he ruffles their heads and orders them to hurry home and make themselves presentable.

Completely independent from Wei Wuxian's promise, Yunmeng Jiang finds themselves with new twin prides. Siblings. Twins. The new blood of the Jiang clan, Jiang Cheng's children. Looking at them feels like looking back at himself and Jiang Cheng of the past.

Situation F.

Wei Wuxian is with the kids night hunting. Him and Lan Wangji are still traveling. They just happened upon the juniors and decided to join the night hunt. One mystery leads to another but surprise of surprises, Jin Ling bows out of the hunt. The juniors are confused, Jin Ling? Refusing an excuse to get away from sect business?? Annoyed by the exaggerated mock surprise of Jingyi, Jin Ling says that there's an important business in Yunmeng he has to deal with. Ouyang Zizhen then reminds everyone that sect leader jiang's child is turning 2 in a few days. Jin Ling adds that he has to give his baby cousin the bestest gift. He'll be in Lotus pier a few days before the celebration. No one is surprised about this supposed child of Jiang Cheng. "Oh, yes, the Jiang heir. Please tell them that the Lan said happy birthday."

Wei Wuxian: "Why did no one ever bother to tell me??"

Jin Ling: "You should have figured it out yourself, aren't you jiujiu's brother?"

Situation G.

Situation H.

Nie Huaisang: Wei-xiong, I'm so sorry I couldn't come see you immediately, I was entertaining my little niece, she wouldn't let me go unless I taught her how to paint flowers. You know how kids are!

Wei Wuxian: I'm only here to ask about this spirit-

Nie Huaisang: Yes, of course. Follow me, I'll try my best to help. Thank you so much Wei-xiong, for handling this problem.

Wei Wuxian: I... Didn't know that your brother had a daughter.

Nie Huaisang: Oh! She's not Da-ge's! She's Jiang-xiong's actually! It's a miracle he's even letting her come visit.

Wei Wuxian: Jiang Cheng's what?! Since when??! And why are you her uncle?!

Nie Huaisang: Jiang-xiong's Xiao An is turning 8 this spring so I guess Jiang-xiong has been a father for 7 years? Though I guess we can argue that he's been one for far longer? Ah, I don't know if that's really the case! Xiao An calls me uncle so that makes her my niece, no? Honorary uncle! At least she has the eye for art! I'm gifting her a bird for her upcoming birthday. Do you think Jiang-xiong will be all right with that? Wei-xiong? Wei-xiong?

Wei Wuxian will start fishing information about this newly found niece from Jin Ling. Tell him everything! It's important. There's an uncle-lympics happening and Wei Wuxian is losing on the top one spot on both the Jin Ling fave uncle race and the Jiang An fave uncle race! (According to him, he's only losing because both his competitors had a headstart)

Situation I.

It's the Gusu lectures and the Jiang's are attending. It's the shidis of Wei Wuxian's former sect! He tries his best to get to know them with various levels of success but one shidi is stubbornly avoiding him. This to Wei Wuxian is just an invitation for extra attention. He will soften this one shidi's heart out! He tells Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi, "Haha! He's just like Jiang Cheng!" and the two looked at each other with worry (Lan Sizhui) and disbelief (Lan Jingyi) and they told him "Senior Wei, that young master is Sect Leader Jiang's son."

Ah. Suddenly it makes sense why he looks so much like Jiang Cheng. Wei Wuxian has many many emotions about this. Mostly various kinds of sadness. But look at the bright side! Jiang Cheng's kid is in Wei Wuxian's new home! He can get to know his nephew without Jiang Cheng glaring at him to stay away (Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan! I'm an uncle of two! Can you believe it? Jiang Cheng managed to find a wife. You have to tell me everything you know, Lan Zhan!)

It's a hard battle to get to know his other nephew. But he'll find out that it's easier when he's talking about his time in Lotus Pier. The kid doesn't like him clearly but he likes hearing about his dad's youth. The kid is also easily offended on his dad's behalf and jumps at every opportunity to fact check Wei Wuxian. Obviously, it's a double edged sword to get the kid's attention by insulting his dad (Wei Wuxian always does it with or without meaning to)

Wei Wuxian will learn that the kid is hellbent of fact checking him because the kid doesn't like the rumors about his father. The kid doesn't have friends outside of the Yunmeng disciples because he doesn't want to be friends with people who lobby insults at his father.

- Actually. Jiang Cheng had to go to cloud recesses. Apologize to Lan Zhan and talk to his kid in private after the kid insulted Lan Zhan. Wei Wuxian still wants to get to know the hellion so he convinced Lan Zhan to let him stay. The little Jiang heir seemed to still want to fact check everyone so he also chose to stay when given the option. And Wei Wuxian decided that, actually, maybe letting the hellion champion his dad will get him somewhere with the kid. Where? Somewhere close to the uncle zone hopefully.

It's a wrong decision because every time the kid blabs about how awesome a Yunmeng Jiang led by his dad is actually, Wei Wuxian just misses his old home more and more. He just missed Jiang Cheng more and more.

Now, a happy ending will be him being liked enough by the Jiang heir that he gets an invitation.

The devastating ending is if (following the meta that Wei Wuxian ascribed Jiang Cheng to be just plain awful ™ to justify not wanting to face him and the consequences of his actions) Wei Wuxian, after gaining some trust of the Jiang heir, says something to refute the boy's "my dad is awesome" speech. The boy clamps his mouth, glares at Wei Wuxian and says, "oh you are just like them." And then leaves the... I dunno? The campfire, roasting fishes and the group of the disciples from various sects who would rather eat with the Yiling laozu than to eat the Lan clan's food. He doesn't see the little Jiang heir until Jiang Cheng came to pick his son up. To add salt to the wound Jiang Cheng whisper shouted to him, "what did you do this time?" It sounds like he is blaming Wei Wuxian for his son choosing to drop the Lan lectures. In reality Jiang Cheng knew Wei Wuxian would try to get to know his son. He knew his son would like Wei Wuxian, everyone does. Even Jiang Cheng does. He is asking what Wei Wuxian did to screw it up.

Situation J.

(Chengxian)

I am not really into the mpreg but please consider:

Wei Wuxian getting summoned to Lotus Pier for official business and getting billed for child support. Apparently his golden core managed to get Jiang Cheng pregnant somehow. Jiang Cheng didn't blame anyone for that because he thought the golden core was his. Now that it's revealed that the core is Wei Wuxian's, well... He's not! Asking Wei Wuxian to come back to him. But he is asking Wei Wuxian to at least be in their kid's life?

And... I honestly dunno how Wei Wuxian will react to this but he will be insufferable

Situation J.1

The other idea is Jiang Cheng not wanting to tell Wei Wuxian. Like, he already sees his mother in himself and he doesn't want his kid to grow up with that environment. Wei Wuxian prefers Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng will let Wei Wuxian go.

The thing is... Jin Ling does know that his Jiujiu got miraculously impregnated by his own golden core (like wow! restored and providing Yunmeng Jiang with an heir, the miraculous core that keeps on giving) and Jin Ling was there when Jiang Cheng asked Wei Wuxian, "why didn't you tell me?"

When Jin Ling asked his Jiujiu "don't you have something to say to Wei Wuxian?" he was referring to the pregnancy. Jiang Cheng said there's nothing to tell but Jin Ling will be damned if his cousin grows up thinking his... Mom? Dad? Hates him enough to leave. So Jin Ling told Wei Wuxian. (Let's all be thankful that Jin Ling didn't let the how questions marinate in his head or he can very well conclude that it's... Without consent)

We have two possible scenarios now.

A. Wei Wuxian, thinking that his dear shidi is weakened by this delicate problem and concluding that he is the best help so he barges into lotus pier and Jiang Cheng thinking that Wei Wuxian just here for the baby.

B. Wei Wuxian, thinking that Jiang Cheng is delicate right now and doesn't need to get so angry, which he definitely will once Wei Wuxian enters the picture so he hangs back but keeps sending the lan juniors to check on Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng, finding out why Jin Ling's friends are suddenly very interested in Yunmeng culture and Jiang Cheng enough to want to visit often and thinking that Wei Wuxian knows and hates Jiang Cheng enough to also leave their baby behind.

Situation K.

(Zhancheng)

Jiang Cheng intrudes on Wangxian's happily ever after because he has to help Jin Ling stabilize the Jin sect and "someone has to take care of our child, Hanguang Jun." Jiang Cheng is about to make many enemies in Lanling and he'd prefer if his ex husband is there for the little one, you know? In case some assassins get sent to their kid for Jiang Cheng's transgressions. Lotus Pier is secure but Jiang Cheng's paranoid brain needs the extra insurance.

No, you can't take the baby with you on your honeymoon traveling. Wangji, I don't believe you or your new lover knows how to feed a child, ah ah ah, no. Lan Sizhui is fed by his uncles and aunties, go to lotus pier and protect the kid. It's all Jiang Cheng asks.

Wei Wuxian can't even focus on the fact that he is in lotus pier without Jiang Cheng haunting the corners because... Holy shit, Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng are ex-lovers. How is there a child between two men? Why did they divorce? And their kid is so cute, the baby has no right to be this adorable!

Maybe it will lead to zhanchengxian who knows.

[daddyplasmius]

reread edited what currently exists of my DP Wolfwalkers AU fic. here are all my favourite lines in no particular order & lacking context

[chasedeys]

HI OKAY so like. in honor of these boyfriends sticking together by the grace of god and just sheer fucking stubbornness and taking matters into their own hands (sooooo sexy and also incredibly leaning to the power-of-friendship ass of them btw) and also because i feel sooo shitty for disappearing all of the sudden and ignoring a whole bunch of you </3 (thank you truly for all the sweet messages in my inbox asking me where and how ive been god yall are so sweet) and also it's such a fucking waste of 7k word vomit if i do end up not finishing this thing and i really do want to finish this but im lacking creative juices and honestly just shit time management but anyways. i present to you the mess of joeteemarr fic in its barely finished glory:

(DOOOO PRAYYY THAT I FINISH ITTTTT (i am on my knees) in spite of all the spoilers (?) you'll read through so it'd be like why the hell would you read this again kind of deal but well ahahahah just let me post this and look away okay 😭♥️)

all on his mouth like liquor —joeteemarr

intro — you came, you saw, you conquered // i couldn’t take my eyes off him, i think i heard a spirit call my name (banana yoshimoto, kitchen)

They’re both still in their leather ensemble—’so, did you coordinate the outfits, or?’ ‘ja���marr copied me.’ ‘excuse me? bitch, i’ll kill you.’—like they zoomed their way to Tee’s place immediately right after the game, after stopping by Judith’s for their usual order of burgers and fries.

Tee pokes at his own order of bacon burger, double helping of cheddar cheese and extra garlic, a wobbly little smile poking through when he spots the lovingly sharpied good game 5! the extra pies are for you!!!! don’t let uno eat them!!!!!!!!! on the crinkly wrapping paper. Judith, Cincinnati native, 57 years old and never takes money from Tee’s mother. Thinks Ja’Marr is the funniest man-child on earth and Joe the sweetest.

Ja’Marr has his jacket off now, tank top stretched tight over his shoulders as he slumps over his burgers snarling at Joe to stop stealing his fries. Tee carefully turns his gaze away from dark of his tattoos, the curve of his shoulders, the flex of his biceps when he tries to smack away Joe’s hand right over his burger.

But the thing is, if he looks away, he’s looking towards Joe—Joe, who’s leather jacket with nothing underneath is zipped down to his navel for some godforsaken reason, miles of pale skin and abs and golden hair and pink nipples flashing everytime he twists his torso to try and take Ja’Marr’s entire dinner or avoid his retaliations. Tee has to take away Ja’Marr’s plastic fork before he stabs Joe with it.

(They didn’t coordinate the outfits, by the way. They just ended up wearing something similar again with their weird otherworldly connection that Tee still tries to wrap his head around even now.)

—----------ja’marrs drops. sensitive,dfksdfkapoeskfo

Ja’Marr skirts his eyes away, mouth curling down, “I don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll deal with it Monday.”

Tee breathes out, extends his knee and presses his socked toes to the younger man’s calves. Ja’Marr twitches his leg against his feet, flicking his eyes at him and shooting him a small smile. He’ll be alright.

“No,” Ja’Marr says evenly, staring right at him even as he slams a hand at Joe’s over his plate, “but you were really fucking sexy.”

Tee startles, several clumps of mashed up potato slipping out of his mouth in surprise—real sexy, there. Ja’Marr really has no filter sometimes, calling any person he finds attractive to their faces with zero shame even in front of his boyfriend of however many years. Joe, ever so possessive, rarely even gets bricked up over it, from sheer assurance of his place in Ja’Marr’s heart. Hard not to be, really, with how steadfast and loud Ja’Marr is with his devotion to him. Tee has been called straight up ‘hot as hell’ by the other man for the past years that they’ve known each other and he still gets flustered over it, mostly because. Well. Whatever.

Joe turns his gaze to him as well, pausing his one-man crusade of pilfering his boyfriend’s fries. Tee slows his bites as he stares back, feeling weirdly caught like a prey in a predator’s gaze, a gazelle looking through the tan of the savanna landscape trying to find the glint of a lion’s eyes lurking in between the blades of grass. Joe’s piercing blues flick between his eyes, then slides down, slow, deliberate, purposeful, over the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, the curve of his lips, the turn of his chin, the hinge of his jaw still clenched from chewing the meat they bought for him, his—neck exposed by the stretched cotton of his ratty t-shirt, the tangle of his beard, the slight of his Adam’s apple, the nearly healed scar on the left side of his jugular from last week’s razor incident, even the loose hang of his faded clemson t-shirt over his shoulders, the dip of it showing off the skin over his collarbones, not too much to show his pecs, but the sheer force of the older man’s leer makes him—makes him push his fucking tits out like he can’t fucking help himself; shoulders, drawing back; spine, straightening; nipples, pebbling, fucking tingling; goosebumps and hair rising over his arms; toes, curling in—he knows each and every part of his body Joe looks over because the man’s so fucking methodical with it, everything else below his chest hidden beneath the table thank fuck, he thinks, of sorts, maybe, a blessing, a curse, who knows, he’s still trying to chew on his fucking bite of bacon burger the fuck.

Tee chokes on his late swallow—and drinks the puply orange Ja’Marr offers him with an obvious smirk holy shit what the ever living fuck. 

Joe goes back to eating his burger like he didn’t just. Undress Tee with his fucking eyes. What the fuck. What the actual fuck was that. Holy shit did he just experience a junior high schooler’s fantastical imaginary eighth grade period axe body spray doped up version of sex daydream or is he just. Insane. Was the burger spiked. What the fuck was that. 

Tee feels his lips twitch. Wow. They’re really—unsubtle. But, are they, really?

“

—And Ja’Marr growls. Tee startles, laughing up at him, but it’s all cut off short because, wait, holy shit—-

He’s got a lapful of Ja’Marr Chase, situating his ass snugly all over Tee’s thighs with his own folded on either side of his hips, arms up so he can press his palms on his cheeks, wrapping all the way to the back of his skull because they’re so big, and kiss him.

“Jesus Christ, Ja’Marr,” he hears through muddied ears. Joe, he knows his voice, always, but—everything is—muffled, dark, consumed to a single person over him 

He flutters his eyes open and gasps out trying to push air into his lungs and Ja’Marr’s face is right there in front of him—eyes piercing into his own as he purposefully bumps his nose to Tee’s and breathes into Tee’s gaping open mouth.

Fucking hell.

“Ja’Marr,” he breathes out, panic mounting—and: dick hardening in his sweatpants because Ja’Marr fucking Chase is all over his lap grinding down, arms around his shoulders, pretty face right up to his with deep brown eyes staring him down intently—hands trembling, acutely aware that his boyfriend of six fucking years is staring right at them from across the room, still stealing said boyfriend’s fries. That fucking heifer, jesus, his diet always goes out the window in the 24-hour window of post-game leftover adrenaline rush.

Ja’Marr—his best friend, the prettiest motherfucker he’s ever had the pleasure of—doesn’t even do him the honor of replying, lips stretching wide into a pleased smile and keeps bumping his nose to Tee’s over and over like it’s a little game to him. It’s ridiculously cute—the minute touches, the way Tee has to go cross-eyed to see it, the weight of him all over, the heady scent of warm wood basking him, it calms him down, lowers his heart rate, settles his breathing, makes his eyelids flutter, trying to keep himself from closing the distance and kiss the man again, seems terribly unfair to just—only have a single chance in his life to kiss Ja’Marr Chase once when he’s still inches away with his body language so open and willing. Joe, to the side, still fucking eating, not even acting offended even the slightest past the minute exasperated jesus christ, ja’marr, shoots him a weird dorky thumbs-up. The hell.

“You’re—“ Tee chokes out finally, acutely aware of every point of his palm pressed against the cotton wrapped around his best friend’s waist. Acutely aware of how his fingers are twitching, wanting, aching—to grip tighter, to drag downwards and under the hemline and then roughly up the warmth of skin, scrub at the expanse of it available and feel it shiver against the skin of his own palm. The only reason he doesn’t is because every joint, every muscle, every tendon in his body is locked up in, what, fear? Sheer desperate want? A man collapsed inches away from an oasis appearing out of nowhere  in a once barren desert, heat pouring over his body and making everything wobbly and blurry—his vision actually going a bit blurry because—

Fuck it all to hell, if he cries in Ja’Marr Chase’s face  just because he kissed him he’s killing himself and taking everyone with him.

Ja’Marr coos, pretty face closing in again and Tee automatically flutters his eyes shut just for the other man to press his lips softly against the thin skin of his left eyelid, keep dragging them along his lashes, letting his liquid tears seep into the crevice of his lips and pool around the corner of his lips, over the bridge of his nose, again to his right eye, and down to the highest point of his cheek—just to press harder and leave a wet imprint from his own tears.

God, Ja’Marr fucking Chase.

“You really gotta say something,” Tee squeezes out harshly, eyes squeezed shut tight and trying to breathe through his nose.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” is what Ja’Marr says, thumb brushing away the wet spots on his cheeks. Which. Well. Maybe Tee should’ve just told him to shut the fuck up and get off of him before he does something he’d regret, like—like kiss him again. And again. And again. Again, again, again, again, over, and over, and over, and over until he drops dead because he’d never grow tired of it, he doesn’t think.

“I see,” Tee says, not really seeing. He knows he’s ’fucking gorgeous’ but come one now, really.

Ja’Marr grins bright right up against his face, of course knowing what Tee’s not saying.

Joe leans down, nudging his boyfriend to the side, hunching over the two, tucks a palm to the side of Tee’s neck, all nine inches of it spanning across his skin like a hot brand, and kisses him too.

Tee breathes into his mouth, doesn’t even know how to kiss back, flabbergasted as he is, weighted down by his best friend on his lap, a hand on his neck that might as well feel like a noose, buzzing in his ears, a match of want being struck in him and he doesn’t know if it’s by him or if it’s actually the people he wants.

Joe hums against his mouth, lips turning down, “you’re not kissing me back,”

He’s actually fucking pouting against Tee’s mouth, Tee realizes. He doesn’t even want to let go of the kiss to speak, doesn't want to pout away from Tee’s lips. Oh god. What is Tee doing. 

Tee surges up, arms clenching around Ja’Marr’s waist, teeth tugging at Joe’s bottom lip, and kisses his quarterback right this time, feels him stretch his lips to a smile even as he licks into Tee’s mouth and sighs into the kiss. He’s relaxing his shoulders, drooping down, evening out—he was tense, he was worried, neck veins slightly popping, Tee realizes. This was important to him. Tee kissing him back—was important. To him. 

Oh.

Tee sighs into the kiss, too, relaxes and licks into the space he’s being granted access into, for the first time ever.

Ja’Marr gets handsy, apparently pleased as a peach at the grip Tee has on his waist. He presses his knees harder to the sides of Tee’s hips and grinds his hips down on his lap, palms exploring his torso all over, nails dragging across his nipples over the cotton of his shirt, face all over the skin exposed by the stretched elastic of his t-shirt’s neckline, tonguing his neck, his collarbone, biting his pulsepoint and making him gasp into Joe’s mouth.

next steps — i swell like a late summer jackfruit; my skin roughens, the pulp of my body so thick; i wait to be speared and wanted; if squeezed, i’ll leave my color on your hands (hồ xuân hương, jackfruit)

Joe pushes his back firmly and he follows through blindly. It’s his house, but Joe knows exactly where eveything is and he trusts literally anywhere this man leads him to, and, also, he’s really fucking distracted by this:

Ja’Marr bites at his chin, right by his beard, and Tee gasps—he’s a freak, what is with him, why is that so fucking hot—and he keeps tugging on the strings of Tee’s sweatpants, fingers brushing deliberately over the tent in his pants, then straight up cupping and squeezing his dick through the cotton when Joe makes them stop to turn a corner. Tee has to just shove the little shit towards the wall, press his head hard against it, and sloppily kiss his mouth to teach him some sort of lesson of some success god what is Tee trying to accomplish here Ja’Marr is so fucking—

An arm—Joe—circles his waist, pushing forcefully between the miniscule space between his belly and Ja’Marr’s and wrenches him back from the other receiver. He whines, fingers scrabbling at his best friend—”Wait! No!”—while Ja’Marr is just laughing and tilting his head back into the wall as he grins teasingly at their quarterback, “what, jealous?”

Joe reaches out and twists his left nipple through his tank top. Ja’Marr yelps and starts yelling expletives at him. Tee, leaning back into Joe’s embrace, sighs exasperatedly. Of course they’re doing this, even now.

Ja’Marr steps closer, trying to smack at Joe through Tee, and Tee puts his hands on his biceps to stop him—gets distracted, starts sliding his hands up and down the length of them because, fuck, how can he not, and then just grabs them and tugs him closer to kiss him all over again with Joe’s arm between their bodies. Man, whatever.

Joe sighs exasperatedly, pressed up all against his back, but he really can’t be all that pissed, because he’s mouthing all up Tee’s neck—what is with him and necks, jesus, 

He’s shivering, caught in the middle, Joe in front, Ja’Marr behind, hands all over him, standing up but he’s falling, stumbling but he’s being held up. There’s a boy in front of him, and there’s a boy behind him, and who is he but another boy asking to be loved and held.

He’s leaning back to Ja’Marr’s chest now, tilted to the side so he can turn his face and kiss him still, the other man’s hand spanning across his face pinning him to place as he presses his tongue into his mouth and moans into it, as loud as he always is anywhere else. Another mouth is all over his chest, tonguing at his nipples, teeth scraping over the dark of his tattoos, panting all over him like a dog, god.

He doesn’t wear boxers at home, and the two know that precisely, Joe stroking his cock through the cotton of sweatpants like it isn’t even there, the grey fabric getting soaked through. He lowers his mouth over it, eyes looking straight up at Tee and asks if he could. Tee nods frantically, not even knowing what the fuck he wants but it’s Joe Burrow, he could do whatever he wants to Tee and Tee would lay in his arms like a supplicant and rip his chest open all pretty and bloody and let Joe Burrow dip his chin in and lap it all up.

He whimpers into Ja’Marr’s mouth, fluttering open his eyes, eyelashes clumpy with tears, sweat, he doesn’t know, and Ja’Marr coos, brushing kisses over his eyes as he drags his palms all over Tee’s belly, scraping nails over his pubes and pressing down in time with Joe going down on him like he knows the exact rhythm of Joe’s every move and plan, even here, even now, even over the sweat and smell of sex of Tee’s body—especially, Tee thinks, over his body.

that’s one — makes a cathedral, him pressing against me, his lips on my neck, and yes, i do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars (richard siken, crush)

Ja’Marr breathes into his ear, biting at the helix and scraping his teeth over it like a dog. Tee whimpers, turning his head to catch his mouth in his and clack their teeth together, a shock of pain grounding him to earth so he wouldn’t float up to the heavens too high. Ja’Marr huffs out a laugh against his lips, “Knock it off, dickhead, I know what you’re doing.”

Tee scowls at him, hands tightening on Joe’s hair instead of reaching out to twist and pinch on his skin, like punishing one of them is the same as punishing the other, really, an extension of a singular subject. Joe groans around his cock, extremely pleased, of fucking course he is, and Tee keeps tugging at his roots in exasperation. Fucking masochistic little shit.

Ja’Marr snickers, dragging his tongue all over his neck, “See, natural Joe Burrow knower. Made just for him—to be his receiver, just like me.”

Ja’Marr, honestly, why the fuck is he like this—

Joe and Tee both groan in unison, Tee coming off it in a whine because, fuck, Joe’s mouth is still all up around his dick, the vibrations traveling up straight to his brain and fucking him up beyond repair.

Joe pulls off with an actual wet pop! and twists a hand harshly around his cock—which feels really fucking good, the fuck—like an apology that he isn’t sucking Tee’s dick continuously since he got the chance to, and pushes his torso up to prop his face by Tee’s head, cheeks pressed up against his, chin digging into his shoulder, and he can feel him kiss Ja’Marr rough and wet, with tongue and spit and biting at his lips.

Fucking helllll, they’re trying to kill him.

The man still twisting his hand around his cock like he’s getting paid to presses his cheek harder against Tee’s, and he’s jawing at Ja’Marr, Tee realizes with a breathless laugh—”Would you quit saying shit like that so shamelessly midsex it ruins the fucking vibe.” “What fucking vibe? If anything I’m adding to it, bitch, get back to sucking his dick, the fuck.”—and Joe slinks back down right after like he didn’t just stop mid-blowjob to argue with Ja’Marr over the receiver’s uncensored prattling.

Tee whimpers, Joe’s mouth enveloping his cock again like it’s made for it, all heat and tightness and perfect 

how do you write people getting their dick sucked. exactly. no really.

ja'marr lets him breathe but he's instantly kissing down his neck and biting his collarbones and pushing him down and dragging a tongue over his chest tattoos he's /relentless/ and when he looks to where joe is its to him grinning down at him with a hand guiding ja'marr /down/ 'that's one. you got me three right?'

“That’s one,” Joe says, his little impish smile Tee has recorded into his brain countless of times before shining down at him, lips dark red, chin and mouth all wet with Tee’s spunk, “You gave me three.”

“Three what,” Tee asks, stupidly, ears still ringing from the force of his orgasm. He’s still so focused on the bright wet glint of liquid decorating Joe’s lower face, his come, staining his skin. Joe isn’t wiping it away, letting it dry on his skin, flaking and caking and clumping against the corner of his lips. Tee wants to lick it away, drag it into his mouth with his tongue, switch it up and leave bite marks all around his pretty lips. All the red in the cold, now red from his teeth. Would Joe let him. Would Ja’Marr let him. Would he let himself mark that pale skin up, leave parts of himself all over his quarterback in ways he’s never had the guts to even finish the thought of before tonight?

Joe leans closer, mouth over him, damn the fact that Tee’s own come is all over his mouth now. Three, Joe murmurs as he kisses him filthily, sliding his tongue through the gap of his teeth, over his papillae, staining his breath with something of his own. Tee wants a shot of Joe’s own come down his throat, drenching the lining of his esophagus. The thought makes his moan, makes him choke into Joe’s throat, and the older man swallows him whole. 

Fuck, three—do they—are they trying to get him to come three times, the same amount of times he caught Joe’s pass for a touchdown? Christ. He’s getting lightheaded.

He laughs incredulously, flicking his eyes down to Ja’Marr mouthing incessantly at his navel, teeth scraping along the black lines of his tattoos, exactly like he said he wanted too. Makes Tee woozy with want, how Ja’Marr gets needy and desperate for it, thirsting over Tee’s body. How many times has he stared at him naked? Tattoos bared and thought to put his mouth on him? Drag a finger down the lines of stars on his stomach? He has never once caught Ja’Marr’s eyes on them—how sneaky had the other man been?

Joe’s hand is right on the younger man’s head like a brand, like he can’t bear to let go. on his head guiding him

, then back to the blond still staring him down. His smile is just as mischievous as it always is. Are they going to take turns, now? That’s the hottest shit he’s ever thought of, probably.

“What,” he can’t help but say, scoffing and teasing Ja’Marr, reaching a hand to tug on his ear and scratch at his cheek because he’s so fucking fond of this man he can’t keep it in, really, “you looking to suck me off too?”

Ja’Marr tugs on his dick, his sensitive dick—bitch—and Tee hisses at him, stopping his loving scritches to outright pinch at his ear because never the fuck he minds, this man is such a fucking brat, he can’t put this guard down at all.

The younger man jerks his head away, laughing. He grins up at Tee, teeth bright and eyes even brighter. “Nah, I don’t like shit down my throat. Wanna fuck me instead?”

Tee chokes on his spit. He blacks out, he thinks, by the question alone. By the idea alone. By the thought alone. His brain tries conjuring images and then it just short circuits. Where is he. Who is he. Why is he.

His head gets cradled, pulled to the side by a hand and he’s being kissed by a smiling mouth, pulled back down to earth slowly and surely until he’s kissing back voluntarily instead of on autopilot. Joe, hand pressed to his cheek and eyes wide open even as he’s stealing Tee’s breath away by kissing him sweetly and thoroughly. What a freak. Who kisses with their eyes wide open. Joe Fucking Burrow, that’s who. His quarterback who threw him three touchdowns and tried biting his neck on national television. Posted on every NFL official social media accounts and sent to him by his high school friends with the words bruh u fucking ur qb??? Which he apparently is, now. 

“He asked you a question,” Joe murmurs against his lips. Right. Sure.

Tee looks down to his lap and, damn, what a fucking image. Ja’Marr Chase, laying belly down on his bed with his torso half over Tee’s thighs, a hand curled loosely around his sensitive dick, the other holding his hand—when did that happen, Tee is squeezing it tight unconsciously and now he can’t let go even if he tried—cheek pressed to his left thigh looking up at him with his pupils blown wide open waiting patiently for Tee to look at him.

Right.

“You get to choose,” Ja’Marr says when he notices he’s got Tee’s attention. He tugs at Tee’s soft cock again—

“It’s not a toy,” Tee yelps, his unoccupied hand automatically curling around the other receiver’s hand around his dick.

Ja’Marr just grins wider up at him, unsticking his cheek from his thigh to press a kiss on the hand wrapped around his wrist.

“You get to choose,” he says again, “Fuck my ass or my thighs?”

Tee lets out a sound only audible to dogs and dolphins and aliens 900 billion light years away, probably. Ja’Marr smiles up at him, looking so shily pleased that he can reduce Tee to such a state by just asking a simple question. He has no fucking business looking so sweetly enamored up at Tee after asking if he would rather fuck him in the ass or his thighs.

He’s jostled around again, Joe tugging at his hips to the side so Ja’Marr can haul his ass up to sit by them. This seems to be a theme, with these two, pushy on the field and off the field and in the bedroom—he can’t even say he’s never even thought of it,  Burrow-Chase dynamic duo, in whatever form, whatever shape, whatever way he can have them. In his dreams only, he thought, but. But.

Ja’Marr is spreading open the hand he’s kept on holding since god knows when—like an emotional support hand holding he’s got to keep a hold on to get through sex and that thought genuinely fucks Tee up in ways he’s never even thought of—and he drops a whole packet of lube he procured out of fucking nowhere.

Tee stares blankly down at it. Holy shit.

“Bro, you’re taking too long,” Ja’Marr says. Tee flicks his eyes up to look blankly at him. “I want you in me, like, yesterday.”

He’s trying to fucking kill him, Tee realizes. Calling him bro, asking to fuck him in the ass, the fuck is wrong with him.

“You gonna finger me open or I gotta do it myself?”

NggGgRrrHff.

Tee doesn’t even know what came out of his mouth, surging his torso forward and bringing his hand up to tug at Ja’Marr’s skull, palm all over the back of his head so he can tug him closer to his face and lick his mouth open and just shut him the fuck up. 

Ja’Marr whimpers, the cocky slope of his shoulders slumping down like a puppet with its strings cut, hauling closer near desperately to settle over Tee’s lap and press his palms over his shoulders for support—kissing Tee right back, breathing hot haaas over Tee’s mouth as he tries gasping for breath.

Tee tugs on his lips with his teeth, presses wet kisses to the side of his cheeks, drags his own lips over his skin back to the tender spot of his jaw, bites over it, pecks a little kiss in apology, then presses his cheek over Ja’Marr’s hard so he can tug roughly on his earlobe with his teeth—thinks he can devour the other man whole, really, from the sheer hunger in his gut built up from day one of over-familiarly dapping him up and hauling him in for a hug under the then-flickering lights of Paul Brown Stadium in 2021.

The lube’s gone from his fingers. He realizes this because someone is tugging Ja’Marr’s hips up so he’s kneeling over him, then pressing a finger in without so much as an ’excuse me’. 

Christ, Joe is so fucking.

Tee can't even find the words, really, to describe his quarterback. 

Ja’Marr yelps, gasps, clutches tighter at Tee’s shoulder, eyelashes fluttering close as he tries to keep kneeling but Joe is apparently ruthless when he's opening someone up because the younger man just collapses all over Tee, Tee letting his weight down him as drags both hands over the other man’s back to soothe him.

“Want—” Ja’Marr chokes out against the skin of Tee’s neck, “—want you.”

Joe huffs out a laugh as he mercilessly twists two fingers inside his receiver’s ass. Tee feels dizzy looking at the 

“Oh I see,” Joe says, dangerously amused, “I see how it is, can't even settle for me no more, huh, when you got Tee Higgins at your beck and call?”

His fingers slip out, shining under the dim lighting of Tee’s night settings, and then he slaps a hand over Ja’Marr’s ass like every part of him is for him to toy over. Tee is still so fucking woozy from the image of it all, his hand rubbing at Ja’Marr’s back sliding lower to smooth over the sting from Joe’s palm.

(god, what an ass. tee can't help himself, grabs a handful of it and tugs it to the side to show his hole, shining wetly from joe’s fingers, a whole invitation for him. tee wants to put his whole mouth on it. lick him open nice and easy. press a finger in and watch as his entire body tremble and shake.)

Joe grins at him, wide and a bit mean, cocky and soooo full of himself, precisely like every other time he makes an insane throw, a run further than his usual short stops, a little overtime nail-biter win like just hours ago: his ice-in-my-veins shot that Tee paused and contemplated jerking off to hours before this.

He reaches over Ja’Marr's body between them, kisses Tee like he’s giving him his approval, then turns and presses the sweetest kiss to Ja’Marr’s nose, damn the fact that the other man is glaring and outright pouting at him.

“Bro,” he croaks out, talking to Tee but trying to shoot daggers at Joe with his eyes, “let me up, let me take this bitch down for one second then we can go right back.”

Joe giggles bright like an actual child, keeps pressing kisses over whatever parts of Ja’Marr’s face he could reach until the younger man’s lips stretch out wobbly for a smile that he can't help, still whining at Joe to shut the fuck up, would he, just for one day. 

Tee grins wide in spite of himself too, hands still all over his best friend’s ass and lips still tingling from a kiss from his quarterback.

He drags his arm up so he can cradle Ja’Marr, fingers reaching over to grip at his jaw and twist it until he's looking right at him and putting all that focus on Tee, murmurs low and raspy: “you said you want me?”, and shamelessly delights in the way the other man’s pupils dilate wide and gorgeous.

“Fuck you,” Ja’Marr says, jaw working against Tee’s grip, “Get your fucking fingers in me before i force myself on your dick, damn it.”

that’s two — from the base of her neck, to the arch of her eyelids, her beauty made a slave of me (adonis, transformations of the lover)

Ja’Marr nestles himself on his mound of pillows—Tee’s pillows. The pillows Tee sleeps with. His favorite pillows. The dark maroon sheets caressing his bare skin as he lounges on his self made throne, as he spreads open his legs, slipping one more pillow under his hips so he can present his ass to Joe and Tee and look expectantly at them. Tee is still so fucking lightheaded. How did he go from scoring three touchdowns to scoring a whole other touchdown? Ja’Marr—his best friend—who ducked his head to grin slilly up at him not four hours ago, telling him the next round of WR room steak dinner was on him. 

Joe pours lube all over Tee’s fingers, 

Joe’s plastering himself all over his back, but he isn’t pushing him at all. He’s just—there. Pressed up all over him, moving with him, breathing over the skin of his neck, nosing behind his ear. He’s letting Tee control how he wants to fuck his man, Tee realizes with a jolt, trusting him with Ja’Marr. 

joe plastered all over tee's back, cock nestled against his ass but he's not pushing tee around he's just following his movements, letting tee control how he wants to enter ja'marr and that also fucks tee up because joes trusting him with ja'marr!! with how he treats ja'marr at his most vulnerable!!!! telling him he can go harder, ja'marr likes whatever, can take whatever, joe leaing a hand in his belly and pushing to add in extra sensation of pleasure when tee pushes /in/ for the first time and he just collapses all over ja'marr and they're all groaning hoarsely in unison because fuck tees in ja'marr and he just pushed his ass back all over joes dick

Joe snickers at the other receiver. Tee feels him lift up an arm, nails scratching at his scalp. He’s murmuring softly at him, but Tee doesn’t think Ja’Marr is really computing any of it. 

“Aren’t you being so agreeable tonight? Some Tee Higgins magic keeping you all pliant and malleable?”

Ja’Marr whimpers, lifting his chin and biting at Joe’s fingers. Joe huffs, chest vibrating against Tee’s back, and every square inch of Tee’s body is filled with warmth.

calls him baby

ja’marr gets fucked up when tee calls him baby because joe calls him baby btw so

that’s three — to love someone is firstly to confess: i'm prepared to be devastated by you (billy-ray belcourt, a history of my brief body)

He’s leaning all over Ja’Marr now, gazing down the man who’s grinning woozily up at him 

Joe, nosing the back of his neck and palming his ass cheeks asking him if he likes to be fucked. Ja’Marr, hands still shaky coming up to drag over his sides and settle over his ribs like a key settling into a lock and clicking into place. Tee himself, chest expanding with breath and skin bristling with want from so deep within him it feels like it’s bursting out and changing the hue of his skin to red, to blue, to orange and black, purple and green, magenta and cyan, a kaleidoscope of colors like the big bang theory—he’s a new universe stretching and expanding and these two are his first and only planets, never to be let go.

He feels stripped bare in front of these two—is his every thought and want obvious in his face and every motion now? Do they see, now, how much he wants them? How much he—loves them? Is it obvious, now, that when he speaks to them he’s speaking like there’s a lodge of do you think of me when you’re alone without me wanting to burst out from his throat? That he aches alone in the center of a crowd when he doesn’t have them beside him? When he has them beside him, even, because they’re not really his to have? Does it show? Do they know? Do they care to know? Does he care to show them?

Tee breathes out loudly, ragged and deep. Joe shushes him, blows air against the curve of his C7. Ja’Marr surges up, presses kisses against his wet cheeks and babbles unknown words to him like he’s speaking through his shitty mic on stream. Tee would miss it, if their randomly scheduled streams were ever to peter off. Tee would miss them, if they were ever to fade away from him.

“Baby,” Ja’Marr coos, “sweetheart, my sweet, my love, my heart, my gorgeous,”

Tee shudders away against his lips and feels the man behind him curve a smile against the skin stretched over his cervical spine.

“My baby,” Joe joins in, voice jokingly grave, “my gorgeous, my sweet—”

“—quit copying me,” Ja’Marr whines, cutting him off, but he’s grinning against Tee’s lips, so he knows he’s just doing so to be annoying—just to put a smile on Tee’s face and it’s working, Tee huffing wetly against the stretch of his grin.

“—my number five,” Joe continues on without pausing, barely a fletch in his voice, “my silly rabbit, best hands in the league, insane body control, prettiest smile in the whole fucking world, favorite receiver to throw to—”

“Hey now,” Ja’Marr whines in earnest now, hands reaching around Tee’s body to stab around blindly at their quarterback. Tee breaks down in laughter for real this time, collapsing fully on the man in the bottom of the pile, letting Ja’Marr find a whole other thing to whine about—’teeeeee you’re crushing me you ass, joe don’t you fucking try it!’—and there was ice creeping from every distal edge of his limbs to the core of him, but there’s nothing but warmth now, chasing it away, clouding his head, keeping him sane. 

“But really now,” Joe interrupts, tugging his hips up impatiently, “I really wanna fuck you, do you wanna?”

Right. Jesus. Joe fucking Burrow, everyone.

Ja’Marr hums, peppering his cheek with kisses again, ever so free with his sweet affections. “Ten out of ten,” he says, “would recommend.”

Tee stares sideways at him, still settled with his weight fully on him. “That a full Yelp review for a Joe Burrow fuck?”

Ja’Marr sighs dreamily, scratching at Tee’s sides, “Do you really want one?”

Jesus.

Tee wiggles around, dragging his body against Ja’Marr’s and the man beneath him giggles when he brushes his fingers deliberately against his sides. He twists until he’s peering at Joe, squinting at him and pretending that the man didn’t just suck his dick so good Tee cried and stared at him like a second coming of Christ. Blasphemous, sacrilegious, irreverent, and yet, he has yet to be struck down and smitten—or perhaps he already has, and this is all a byproduct of his imaginary ruin.

“Think you can make it good?” He asks imperiously, already knowing in his bones this man would be as good at fucking as he is at literally anything else, as well evidenced by his previous attempt at giving Tee what was possibly the best blowjob of his life just, what, 40 minutes prior?

Joe scoffs, ducking his head down and pecking at his lips. “I just sucked your dick to incoherency, the fuck do you mean ‘can i make it good’? I got a pretty mouth and a pretty dick, think for yourself.”

Tee chokes in sheer disbelief—heart stuttering a bit at the brief press of lips but what-the-fuck-ever—the ego on this man, jesus. He flicks his eyes to the pink of his lips—shining, distracting, real fucking pretty—then, well, down past the puffy nipples and golden dusting of chest hair and layer of fat over abs to the nice curve of a cock—thick and long, veiny, a blushy pink head, a weirdly sexy little jolt like it’s show-ponying, like it knows he’s watching it and wants to show it likes it—that Joe likes Tee watching him. Yeah, real fucking pretty dick, too, damn it, fuck Joe Burrow.

Tee whines, turning back around to bury his face—knowing damn well it’s burning red even through the dark of his skin—in the curve of Ja’Marr’s neck and tries not to let the dual laughter of the boys who’ve quite literally captured his heart stutter it too much. Failed, but whatever, he’s got way too much practice over the years regulating his heartbeat to normalcy around these two.

Joe goes to scrape his teeth along the top his spine again and Tee shivers, feeling like prey caught in the maw of a tiger, which really won’t do—he’s a fucking bengal too, damn it. He bucks his hips back firmly, makes sure to rub the curve of his ass against the hard of his quarterback’s dick and hides his satisfied smile against his fellow receiver’s jaw when Joe gasps loud and startled, hand coming to grip at his hip hard, probably leaving bruises for him to brush his fingers wonderingly over later on.

Ja’Marr snickers approvingly, pressing his jaw back firmly against Tee’s mouth, “Yeah, tell him who’s boss, make him work for it.”

Tee presses a kiss right to the tender skin below his jawbone, leaves it there for a beat, two, three, feels like maybe he can make out the faint fluttering of his heartbeat against his lips, then lets up to say drily, “Pretty sure all your raving reviews does wonders for his ego. Don’t act like you’re not to blame here, Mr. Joe Burrow’s Numero Uno.”

Ja’Marr just shrugs unapologetically the best he could, pressed down as he is with Tee’s full weight all over him to the bed, never really one to be shy about his near piety to one Joe Burrow when it’s just them three. He’s been circling indistinct little patterns on the skin of Tee’s hips the whole time, but he stops for a minute to reach a hand up and tap a little rhythm teasingly over Joe’s thigh, now kneeling to the side, the only one still hard and with zero orgasms to his name that night, pouting but not admitting it.

Tee very obviously wouldn’t say no to having Joe’s dick inside him but playing hard-to-get just so Joe Burrow would pout and whine about not getting to fuck him is really—really fucking cute, actually, wow. Wow, god, Tee is so gone for him, he should really take a step back and regulate his entire life and emotional capacity, wow. Wow.

and in the end — over a distance of four hundred miles, her yearning and his yearning are intertwined, as though there were no spatial or temporal interval between them (jenny erpenbeck, kairos)

After it’s all done and not said, then, Tee’s left naked in the middle of the hallway leading to his bathroom, unable to take the steps back to his own room where his best friends are, clutching at his towel after having just pissed, and having orgasmed three fucking times by the combined willpower of his two closest teammates, all because he scored three touchdowns for a game—that might possibly be his last home game with them—that had playoff stakes. Fuck.

Heavy footsteps come up to him and he flicks his eyes up to see Joe staring him down—naked, gorgeous, sweat-slicked, his quarterback, his friend. Who had just fucked the bejeesus out of him.

Tee drags a hand down his face harshly. Stupid. So fucking stupid.

The lilt of Ja’Marr’s voice when he says my sweet, when he’s referring to Tee as my heart, when he’s saying Tee as my gorgeous. When Joe says gravely, jokingly, possessively, my number five, he’s saying that about Tee. 

Joe catches his hands—both of them—towel slipping away, and holds them and tugs at them until Tee is stumbling into him, lifting his chin up awkwardly so he won’t slam it into Joe’s nose but Joe doesn’t even do him the honor of avoiding it. He just tucks it into the curve of his Adam’s apple and breathes in deep like a weirdo. How many times has Tee just caught him with his nose buried in Ja’Marr’s neck as he hugs the receiver—how many times has he caught the man nudge his nose to the curve of Tee’s shoulder, right at the base of his neck, after a game when he comes to him for a hug. Oh.

“Joe,” Tee breathes out, trembles, wonders how he’s supposed to word this out, how he’s supposed to say how he feels, how he’s supposed to say t

Ja’Marr, breathing in his air and telling him he doesn’t want him to leave. 

Tee sees Joe grin down his phone at ass o’clock in the morning and knows he’s reading i love you in between the letters of Ja’Marr’s why the fuck is all of cincy awake at 7 in the morning.

Ja’Marr says hey, all sleepy with the vowel dragging and it sounds like come here, you two. Tee goes, Joe right behind him a half step away.

a little more down the line — the only heaven i’ll be sent to, is when i’m alone with you (hozier, take me to church)

you do like all those pet names

he calls me all that all the time joe says nosing behind tees ear

i like calling you that too tee says, amused. letting his neck bend even more, what even are the words uncomfortable stretch when joe burrow has his nose buried in the curve of it. 

you called me baby, ja’marr says then, shy and a little quiet, like he’s saying something he keeps close to him and isn’t sure how he should breach it out of him. 

i call him that, joe says next, grin audible even if its not visible from where he’s pressed up behind tee

oh. tee called him baby, told him to come for him, and ja’marr gasped into his mouth and bursted all over tee’s belly, drenching him in white, whimpering as he stared into tee’s eyes with his own watering but still kept it open, didn't even close it because he didn’t want to. couldn't, maybe, tee thinks again.

oh, tee says out loud for real then, bumping his nose forward to ja’marr like he's learning that ja’marr likes to do, okay then, baby, come here, baby, let me see you, baby.

ja’marr laughs, bumps his nose right back. don't wear it thin. 

never, tee swears.

my baby, my baby, joe murmurs finally into the back of tee’s neck, pressing his fingers into the insides of ja’marr’s elbows.

.

.

.

i want more thumps. i want more time. i want to waste my love on everything. give me a heart for ohio. —(joy sullivan, instructions for traveling west, an octopus has three whole hearts)

more time together for these three, please.

WHICH APPARENTLY HEY THEY DID IT 😭😭👍👍👍👍 GOOD FOR THEM!!! trey next so help me!! when treys news comes out (🙏) maybe ill post that treymarr unfinished oblivious courting fic idk we'll see that ones more of a mess than this and also wayyy shorter lmao but anyways:::: thank u for reading through this all if u made it to this end note 😇🫶 goodbye see u again whenever i have it in me to show up again akdhsjdjdj love yall bengals super bowl 2k26 Believe! or whatever it is they all say in that 2021 run 💖

thank you for every one of you who've come into my inbox to ask how i am by the way!!!! adore and miss you all very much <33