dumbshow | highly new, slightly improved open post

highly new, slightly improved open post

assorted morons

optional prompts/ideas

☆ caught in the rain meme
☆ little steps meme
☆ affectionate physical contact meme
☆ picture prompt also acceptable but link them so it's tidy
☆ AU ideas: soulmates AU, reincarnation AU, Bad End AU, canon divergent/roleswap AU, dorky college AU, crossover AU, super indulgent high fantasy AU
☆ melodrama is ultimate tier
★ SHIPPING AND FUCC:
☆ non-fluffy relationship types I'm down for: codependent, master/servant power imbalance type ships, "we're bad for each other but worse for anyone else," other things I am failing to think of tbh
☆ things I am not into: noncon (includes "dubcon"), incest, tsundere shit if your tsundere is just verbally abusive, gratuitous torture porn, you'll probably have to ask me about harder kinks and they will vary by character
☆ I don't have a kink list so pitch me an idea if u thirsty
☆ if you would prefer a locked post I can also make that happen

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[Well, it hurts, and pretty constantly... Huaisang has no intention of getting up to walk around anytime soon, but he's not such a whiner that he has to act like it's the end of the world. There's no one to fool! So instead he holds out one arm, gesturing for Jiang Cheng to come sit next to him.]

Keep me company, then.

[It's a good thing he calls for him: Jiang Cheng had honestly planned on storming off to work out his embarrassment on the tents or some such thing. Better that than just sitting and stewing in his (overblown) irritation at himself.

But he can't deny Huaisang a direct request, not now. So he sits, wrinkling his nose as he does. Should he apologize? Ah, but that's hard even for the simplest matters. So how to fix this?]

I can make us dinner soon. If you want.

[Huaisang leans against him the moment he sits; it's a little mean of him to push at Jiang Cheng's guilt like this, but he'll stop, he will! His ankle hurts and he wants to be held, genuinely and everything.]

Not yet. I can't concentrate on eating while it still hurts.

[How can he enjoy campfire fish with this terrible ache? This is serious.

...Then, okay,] It was an accident, A-Cheng.

[He at least shifts, wrapping an arm around him, holding him close. Which means Huaisang can feel the instant he goes stiff.]

It hasn't even been a month. How many people sprain the ankles of their--

. . . it's not exactly a good start.

[Let him brood.]

[Jiang Cheng, babe... We're looping around to unhealthy, here. Huaisang leans more heavily against him, like perhaps his affection will put an end to this brood for good. Or for like, ten minutes.]

Why are you worried about that? Knocking me over isn't an omen.

[But ah, see, maybe it is. Maybe it's a sign that he's not meant for this, that he's too broken, too mediocre, too lacking in some way and he oughtn't have this kind of happiness.]

I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.

[Ah, well. He can't say he doesn't know where that sentiment is coming from. Jiang Cheng has lived waiting for the misery to catch up with him again, while Huaisang has wondered just how long he'll get away with the things he's done. It's— understandable.

But this is just a twisted ankle.]

It won't. You'll get used to it.

[To the happiness, or the dread... who knows.]

[He doubts it, and the snort he offers is meant to indicate that.]

I don't know how you can look at the future like that. Especially after . . . well, everything. How can you look at the future and think it will turn out decently?

I haven't thought about the future in years.

[It's been nothing but a desperate rush to the finish of the one thing he had to do, and there was never time to plan ahead to anything after. He's walked completely out of his own script and he doesn't want to think about it even now.

So it's going great.]

Even so, I managed to get this far.

[Well, that shuts him up. Jiang Cheng stares into the distance for a few moments, trying to absorb the blunt heaviness of that first statement.]

. . . I'm sorry.

[Has he said that yet? But so much has happened, and then there'd been desperate, frantic flirtation, avoiding all emotion-- and even when they were talking about feelings, it was inherently about them, not anything else.

But he is sorry. Sorry it had happened; sorry he wasn't there to help when it had. Sorry that he knows precisely the sort of rage and grief Huaisang has in him, because god, he would that he never knew such feelings.]

[Oh, and it does something to Huaisang's whole body to hear that, an apology for how twisted things have turned out. Sympathy, and it's Huaisang who goes stiff this time, almost in shock from it. When was the last time someone showed him sympathy?

When his brother died? How ironic.]

Ah... so am I.

[If things had been different— could they have reached each other sooner? He's quiet for a moment.]

You know, A-Cheng, I think the other shoe was us all along.

[He turns his head, burying his face against the top of Huaisang's head for a moment.]

What's that supposed to mean?

[Hmm, that he took Jin Guangyao apart so completely that the man died of shame and derision from the rest of the cultivation world even before Lan Xichen ran him through? That Jiang Cheng's revenge on the Wens was thorough enough that someone out there has definitely already written at least one epic for the history books about it?

Something like that!]

I only mean there isn't anything left for us to worry about, is there? The worst problem I have right now is my foot.

Edited (verb tenses at this hour?) 2020-03-30 06:39 (UTC)

[He might not be as clever as Huaisang, but he's not stupid, either. But hm, that's something to pursue later.]

I suppose.

[He's still holding his breath, but maybe that will ease with time. Because Huaisang is right, after all: that really is their biggest problem. Everything else that's happening-- little squabbles, arguments about taxes or who owns what . . . it's irritating, but it's not awful. Not the way the past decade and a half have been.]

Hmm. Are you going to whine in my ear the entire time when I carry you?

[It's fine, they can chat about being the most intimidating people in the cultivation world some other time, when the emotions are less raw. It'll be fun!! For now:]

Oh, yes. How else can I show my appreciation for A-Cheng's care?

[This is your man, Jiang Cheng. Enjoy him.]

You're such a brat . . .

[Ah, but at least that's affectionate grumbling, not secret self-loathing. Not that that's gone away, speaking of issues they'll have to discuss at some point, but at least right now, the way he kisses the top of Huaisang's head is fond.

Mostly.]

A-Sang can show his appreciation better ways.

[Which comes out more suggestive than he'd meant it to; he'd really just meant, like, boiling rice or something. But they're here now, and by some miracle, he doesn't take it back. You know what that is? Growth.]

[Don't try to out-brat him, Jiang Cheng. His true calling was being a pain in the ass, all along... The kiss makes him smile, and he shifts to look up at Jiang Cheng with raised eyebrows. Oh? Is this another fake-out smooth line?]

A-Sang can make it worth your while.

[Like, later, when his foot doesn't hurt so bad. Maybe.]

[They're pretty much always fake-out smooth lines, as evidenced by the way his cheeks have gone red, but. At least he's sticking to his guns right now, staring right back down at him.]

In exchange for carrying you all the way back to Qinghe . . .

[Which is a not inconsiderable task.]

I remember what kinds of books you used to read, you know. Don't promise more than you're willing to give.

[Two for two, maybe this flirting thing isn't so hard?? Admittedly, he doesn't look as smooth as he'd like, but he's trying.]

["used to"

Huaisang shifts again, sliding a hand delicately up the front of Jiang Cheng's robes and tracing a lazy circle over his chest. They are... so overdressed, but it's the thought that counts.]

I told you I wouldn't lie to you, A-Cheng. You believed me, didn't you?

[Oh, that's unfair, he's not allowed to use that right now . . . especially because Jiang Cheng is absolutely incapable of refuting that. Especially when he's being touched like that, good god. His mind's eye follows the path of Huaisang's fingers, already desperate to ensure that contact lingers.

He is . . . very touch starved. They both are, which is why it's distinctly unfair he's been put in this position.

He's still convinced he'll ruin things soon, but passivity has never been his way. Carefully, he pulls Huaisang's hand back, turning it palm-side-up, his grey eyes dark and intent. His fingers slide against the curve of his palm, tracing meaningless patterns against the swells and dips there. Huaisang's fingers are next, slender and so very clever, the pad of his thumb memorizing the way they feel against him. His touch is as light as he can stand, his breathing steady and even.]

I didn't say you were a liar, A-Sang. I said . . .

[His fingers trace lower, pushing up Huaisang's sleeve slowly, exposing pale skin and faint lines. They trail over his pulsepoint, down the line of his arm, mapping out the faint jut of bone and pattern of veins. Until at last he can't push his sleeve up any more, and so he moves his hand instead: stroking the tips of his fingers over the curve of his shoulder, up to his neck. He presses just one finger there, stroking against the curve of his throat, before meeting his gaze once more.]

Don't promise me more than you're willing to give.

[That is— ah. Jiang Cheng has touched him before, obviously, but there's a heated, frantic scramble to put hands wherever they can reach like the other person might disappear if they aren't fast enough, and then there's this, which is practically reverent. Soft and intimate and Huaisang stays perfectly still, like moving too suddenly could break the spell and ruin the whole moment. Jiang Cheng's hands are bigger than his and his skin rougher, all of his touches firmer from his lifetime wielding a sword even when he's gentle, like this— it burrows down to something deep in Huaisang and pulls. His skin practically aches where Jiang Cheng has touched him, the further he moves in his exploration.

So he has... no complaints, except for the wonderful timing and the swollen mess that his is ankle severely impeding him right now. This man. Unbelievable.

At some point his other hand finds the back of Jiang Cheng's robes and curls fingers into the fabric, grip hard compared to the touch against his neck. Ah—]

You're terrible, A-Cheng... [Well, he can't not tilt his face up to kiss him after all that, soft and lingering. Mm—] For you? Anything.

[Oh, fantastic, it's a thrill all its own just to see Huaisang look up at him right now, eyes all dark and aching. His hand lingers against the curve of his neck, thumb stroking gently.

He could say something else, something blithe or darker, but anything he thinks to say sounds stupid. Instead: he ducks his head down, nosing against the curve of his jaw, before he kisses him once, twice, each one a little more firm than the last. Not hungry, and certainly not demanding right now, but at the same time: he wants him. He wants any bit of him he can have, touching him slowly, memorizing the feeling of his body, where he's soft and where he's sharp, the way he sounds and looks as they both fall apart . . . god.]

[To think, all he had to do to unlock the (sort of) smooth and (somewhat) confident Jiang Cheng was go out into the wilderness with him. The thought— and the way all of this attention makes his heart pound in his chest— is enough to make Huaisang chuckle against Jiang Cheng's mouth, low and satisfied. He turns his body into the touch, not desperate but welcoming, angling himself to let Jiang Cheng put his hands wherever he wants to.

Because of course Huaisang wants him as well, so much. And he wants to see what Jiang Cheng will do without him, ah, basically teasing him into it; to remember the intensity in his gaze while his hand wanders. It's not entirely so easy to... maintain a level of self control, though, and inevitably Huaisang thinks of how easy it would be to slide into his lap right now, to straddle his thighs and press flush against his chest, and—

And the moment, the very second he starts to move to do just that, he hits his own stupid ankle against his own stupid other leg and pulls back from Jiang Cheng with a surprised yelp. Blueballed by his own injury....]

We have to remove my whole leg. I'm sick of it.

[Of course it comes back to his ankle. Of course it does. He exhales irritably against his neck, his hands abruptly and bluntly stopping their inquisitive touch. He keeps his hands on him, obviously, he's not going to just jerk back, but they settle into slightly less suggestive positions.]

It wouldn't be hard. Zidian will take it off and seal the wound all in one strike.

[Tartly said, from the man who routinely threatens to break his nephew's legs.]

How eager are you?

To have my leg cut off? Or to have you?

[Let him try to move more carefully... it's not nearly as slick and he's already thrown a wrench in the rhythm of what they had going here, but he manages to get his legs over Jiang Cheng's lap without smashing his foot into anything else. It's still not suggestive, but it's comfortable.]

I think about one of those all the time. Although you'll have to carry me longer if my leg comes off.

Edited (i missed a word.........) 2020-04-01 00:19 (UTC)

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