#anyway.. is it just me or do they really have that little content? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cmdrfupa · 16 hours ago

Text

Lifetime

post shibuya!nanami x caregiver!reader

A series dedicated to healing and letting yourself have a second chance in this lifetime.

Inspired by this song that brings me to tears every single time.

content warning: shibuya arc, mentions of death, mental health awareness, angst(eventual comfort), burn victim so expect some detailed imagery.

wc: 4.9k

an: thank you for reading. I love you lots.

Time seemed to trickle as Nanami waited for his physical therapist to arrive.

First at home session since being discharged.

4 days a week, 30 minutes a day.

“Individualized exercise program including rigorous activities as you progress to help you regain your independence.. Sure.” Nanami read from the pamphlet out loud and sighed as he looked over the stack of literature he left the rehab facility with.

He was thankful that he was deemed fit enough to continue his healing at home after 11 weeks in the best facility Gojo could find. While it accommodated every possible concern one could have, he was certain he wouldn’t feel confident in being self sufficient until he was able to put all he had learned into practice at home.

So there he was, sifting through paperwork and sipping his coffee as he awaited his new physical therapist and as Ino finished cleaning his kitchen.

“I think thats it! Lunch is in the black container on the top shelf in the fridge and I’ve prepped dinner for when Gojo comes to cook. Anything else before I’m off?” Takuma grabbed his keys, the jangle bringing Kento out of his reading trance as he looked up.

“Yes, that should be fine. I appreciate you coming over every morning Takuma. But it’s not necessary.”

Takuma scoffed, almost offended at the idea. “Nonsense. Its just a little breakfast and lunch. Its on my way to the school anyway. Consider it a small help.”

He could protest but Takuma would simply find another way to make himself useful. Whether it be taking him to his appointments or coming to slather his injuries: he was going to find a way to be of help.

As he adjusted his cast as best he could, a text popped up from an unsaved number.

>Hello, Mr. Nanami! Currently heading to you. ETA is ten minutes.

Signed with your name, Nanami simply reads the text and reacted to the message with thumbs up.

“Thank you, Takuma. Truly. But I think thats everything. My physical therapist is on their way so I’ll just hang out til then.”

“Alrighty! I’ll be working mostly on campus so just shoot me a text if you need me. Take it easy, Nanami.” with that, Ino grabbed his jacket and proceeded out the front door.

Nanami exhaled and got up to sit at the window. The mid morning sun was gentle but insistent, that soft golden hue brightening everything it touched.

It wasn’t harsh, just warm enough to remind Nanami of the outside world, a quiet promise that time was still moving. The warmth on his right side almost felt foreign as the dust mites danced lazily in the light. He closed his eyes, taking in the fragile sense of something stirring inside of him— reposeful comfort in the way the sun didn’t have a sudden, overwhelming wave of joy but a soft declaration that he was still here.

Nanami hadn’t had many moments to really think about just how life changing the incident had been. Half of his body littered in 3rd degree burns, a third of that, 4th degree. Loss of hair on one side, an eye patch over his eye and a lack of feeling down his left arm.

He’d looked at himself in the mirror exactly once since the incident and didn’t do it again until he acquired his face prosthetic recently.

It was bulky and itchy, but it alleviated the deformities and more importantly, kept him from being too hard on his own appearance.

The moment felt necessary. Reminding him that the sun remained a constant while other things changed.

“I’ll need to see if I can sit outdoors for a few minutes a day. Would be good for me.” he noted outwardly before a light tapping at the front door had him shuffling towards the foyer.

One moment, please.” he paused a few paces before he reached the door to look down, remembering his shirt had a hole near the hem of it. He didn’t have time to change but only hoped the therapist wouldn’t see him as some undetermined slob with no real concern on how he looked.

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Mr. Nanami?”

“That would be me.”

“Perfect! Hello! I was sent by the health and wellness agency as part of your transitioning to home health care. We have an appointment. May I come in?”

No scrubs, no accessories to signify you were a medical professional. Just a badge clip holding your ID with “HHA” boldly sitting under your name.

“Sure. Come on in.” He led you into the house, slowly walking into the living room and nodding towards the couch as you stood next to him.

You grin and sat on the far end of the couch, near the window, “Thank you.” you sat your tote littered in small pins on the coffee table and pulled out a somewhat thick file.

“Would you like anything to drink? Water, coffee?”

Shaking your head, you tapped the top of your bag. “No thank you. I have my tumbler. But I appreciate it!”

Nanami slightly bowed his head and sat in the solo chair next to the couch. “Alright so, how do we start this? I was told I’d see you four days a week with one more day possibly if I need to.”

You pursed your lips, looking down at your paperwork before looking back up to meet his neutral gaze.

“I believe that’s your physical therapist that you will be seeing four days out of the week.”

“Then pardon me for being so… impolite. But who are you exactly?”

The laugh that left your lips was a soft one but enough for Kento to lift his lips into a slight smile.

“I realize your discharge team didn’t give you names, faces, or titles. My apologies.”

“It happens.”

You continued. “I’m your Home Health Care Provider. While you were still in recovery, you met with your primary care provider and you spoke of your in home care, correct?”

Nanami nodded. “Yes.”

“Going over the team you’d have for your in housee rehabilitation, you were assigned a home health aide 5 days a week.”

His brow furrowed. “So you are that, I assume?”

“Yes. I will also be the one looking over the full team that provides you with your in-home care.”

“This feels very unnecessary.” The tone in his response was sharp. “I have people who come to help me with my daily needs. Having an entire team sounds like an exhausting back and forth to have coming to my house. A waste of resources.”

Your demeanor remained soft and understanding as you listened to his concerns. “Mr. Nanami. I understand that it sounds overwhelming. If I had to be in the predicament of needing a care team after an incident, I too would be a bit apprehensive.”

“But you aren’t. I am.”

The immediate smile that grew on your face wasn’t one that came from kindness. It was your defense, albeit an understandable one. “You are correct. I’m not. But I implore to at least hear me out on why its important to have us.”

A rush of emotions filled Kento’s chest. He wanted to pull his hair out from sheer frustration. But he remained calm.

His discomfort was obvious to you and you wanted to remedy the ache somehow.

“I want you to have an idea of what this could look like as you approach the first steps of gaining a sense of normalcy. Would you be willing to let me give you an example of what a week may look like for you? And if you don’t like it, we can adjust to a schedule that fits better for you.”

“Let’s hear it, then.”

“Splendid.” You reached into your file and pulled out a thoroughly detailed schedule and turned it for Nanami to look along with you.

“So, this schedule is based loosely on the day to day you had while in the rehab facility. No matter who, anything involving someone from your team wouldn’t be arriving until 10am. This is unless you decide to utilize me. Then I would be here at 7 every morning to aide you with your morning routine.”

“What if I don’t want extensive help?”

“I would respect the boundary.”

Nanami took a closer look at the schedule, seeing the words ‘kitchen prep healing exercise’ highlighted for every Tuesday and Thursday. “What does this entail? Kitchen prep healing.”

“Your passions shouldn’t suffer because of changes. So I created a regimen that would help us get in the kitchen and get busy while making sure we help maintain your range of motion and fine motor skills.”

Nanami looked up at you for a moment, trying to assess just how serious you were about changing what he was uncomfortable with.

“So if I only need you for meal prep and assisting with chores around my house.”

“Then I will only help you with meal prep and assisting with your chores around the house.”

He handed the schedule back to you. “And if it isn’t something that I’ve mentioned?”

Trying to test you. Cute. “If you mention to me that would like me to assist you in going to the grocery store, fixing your bed, helping you get ready for your appointments, then I will. Because my goal is having you confident in yourself and your abilities.”

That nagging feeling of what if filled his chest and mind. Nanami knows he can’t do it alone. But to be a burden is the last thing he wants to ever become.

“I don’t want to become too dependent on you and your teams’ services.” He sat up as best he could, stretching out his legs and wincing at the unexpected intensity of his blood flowing through his left leg.”

Not wanting to lose the momentum, you sat on the edge of the couch alert of and aware of the pain he showed. “Your independence will not falter. We are merely an extension. We are the claw arm that’s in your reach if the jar of pickles are too high up, if you will.”

Nanami tried to stop the half smile on his face but faltered. “I understand.”

“Do you have any questions for me?” You smiled politely.

“A few,” Nanami cleared his throat. “When it comes to changing my dressings..”

“I will be the only one who sees them completely outside of your primary physician.” You answered, as if you were waiting for that specific question.

“Second question: can you properly fold a fitted sheet?”

You laughed, nodding. “The trick is in how you hold the corners. Line up the creases and you’ll always have a perfect fold.”

Nanami nodded. “Interesting.” The intense blood flow in his legs ceased and his body noticeably relaxed. He sat forward. “Final question, if you were to start tomorrow, could we have your start time for 8am? I like having the first hour of the day to myself.”

“If you want me here at 8 am, I will be at the door by 7:55 to knock at 7:59.”

The moment of silence was filled with hope as you realized you got to him. You let him see genuine concern and thats all he wanted. But this was only the beginning. And you were willing to be his guide to a sense of independence all the way through.

___________________________________________

The silence of the early morning was heavier than usual— a quit hum of of the refrigerator reached his room as he slept with his bedroom door open now, a new practice he’s since learned is a response to his trauma.

He sat on the side of his bed, staring down at his slippers that warmly held his feet as the barely visible morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and unrelenting.

“I embrace healing.” He spoke out loud, his voice still low, sleep riddened, as he slowly rose from the bed and grabbed his cane.

“We aren’t going to be hard on ourselves because this is still new to you, Kento. Its okay to not know what to do.”

Mornings were more of a drag than he would like for them to be.

His body was more stiff. More rigid. He needed 30 minutes minimum to sit on the side of the bed and stretch just to muster up enough internal energy to get up and grab his cane.

He sounded off, flipping the bathroom light on and adjusting the sink to run warm water. “Today will be a great day.” He washed his hands, meticulously washing between his fingers and flicking the excess off his fingers before he dried them, reaching for a clean towel and letting it soak under the faucet.

“You will be more than okay.” this time, he spoke as if someone would overhear him talking to his self.

Nanami shook his head, lowly chuckling at what he found himself doing.

Yuji began to send him various videos that initiated ‘positive self talk’ and ‘daily affirmations for healing the body.’ Yuji hoped to try and help expedite a process that Megumi told him more than fives times, would take awhile.

Slowly pulled away the dressing on his cheek, Nanami watched small bits of dead tissue peel away from his healing skin. He threw it in the trash hamper, then pumped a small dot of antimicrobial soap on the wet towel he’d soaked and gently began to wash his face.

He looked closely, inspecting every patch he wiped over to take notice of any changes in how his skin looked. He tried very, very hard to not look into his own eyes.

Rinsing and patting to dry, he washed his hands again then reached for the jar of salve, precisely swiping a thin layer over his left cheek and forehead before he placed his transparent face mask on.

Finishing up his morning bathroom routine went without a rush. Going to throw on yet another loose fitting t-shirt and casual pants before sliding his slippers back on.

Slow and steady. Nice and easy.

“I am going to have a great day today.” the rubber end of his walker softly thudded against the wooden floors as he made his was down the hall. “It is a new day. New chances.”

He wasn’t going to confirm or deny if these affirming exercises were doing anything. But he’d admit that saying them aloud was probably the silliest he’d felt ever doing anything.

The living room held a welcoming warmth as he drew the blinds open that faced the street.

The third floor apartment view was always the one thing that made the asking price of his condo worth it to him.

The patchwork of traditional rooftops and modern buildings met the edge of the cities outskirts. Bare branches stood against the pale early morning winter sky, hints of early plum blossoms added a hint of a spring that would soon come and wipe away the muted landscape.

Kento sat on the window seal, taking in the low mountains in the distance. That thin veil of mist hiding the peaks that were still dusted in snow. With a deep inhale, he looked down at the street to see a bundled up pedestrian loading his car with boxes as another, that looked only slightly familiar, was exiting their car in a slow jog to the front steps of his building.

He glanced over at the clock on the wall.

7:55 am.

“Timely.”

slowly, he went to open the rest of the blinds around the living room, a slow tango that made him a feel like he still had just enough control, timing the last curtain opening perfectly as your soft knock filled the foyer yet again.

He stood there for a moment, his hand resting on the frame, before opening the door and stepping aside in a half step to let you in. His expression was neutral — not unkind, but carefully composed, as if he were still deciding how much space to give you in his life.

“Good morning,” you spoke softly, offering a polite smile.

“Morning,” Nanami replied, his voice low and steady. “I was about to make myself a simple breakfast. Coffee too.”

It wasn’t quite an invitation, but it wasn’t a dismissal either. It was just a statement — a line drawn firmly down the middle.

You nodded. “That sounds good.”

You sat your bag down on the ottoman against the wall and followed his lead. The condo was quiet — too quiet, the kind that felt deliberate. Like he'd stripped the space of anything deemed unnecessary. A few trinkets here and there, clean lines, muted colors.. But the kitchen felt like the homeliest part of the space.

Black stainless steel appliances, cold press juicer and blender sitting on the counter. A top of the line built-in double electric convection wall oven, a display of every herb and spice on a dark mahogany shelf sitting high on the wall.

“You have a very beautiful kitchen.” Your eyes grazed over the quartz cabinets, taking in the light blue finishes until you landed on what you knew to be as the best stand mixer that only experts chefs and bakers would have.

“You have a Bosch… Its even more beautiful in person.” You inspected it as if it were a lost artifact seeing the light for the first time in 500 years.

Nanami cocked his head for a moment. “Are you that taken by a stand mixer?”

“Mr. Nanami, I’d have to work 3 weeks nonstop to not only get the mixer but to financially recover from it.”

Your half suppressed laugh had Kento smiling. “Understandable. It is a big purchase. I use to bake fresh bread for my weekly use.”

“You’ll have to give me a demonstration one day! Would love to see the Bosch in action.”

Nanami raised his brows. “You think I can get back to that one day?”

The small flick of something resembling hope flecked in the richest parts of his brown eyes.

“We can get you back to that. I’m sure of it.”

He nodded, a silent acceptance of an unspoken challenge. He opened the refrigerator, bearing his weight on the cane as he used his dominant hand to grab the butter, holding it out.

“Do you mind taking things as I pass them to you?”

You reached out, taking the butter and placing it on the counter. “Don’t mind at all.”

A pack of bacon, a jar of jam and an orange followed after and you awaited his next instruction.

“I’m going need your help with peeling orange. I believe I can manage the rest.”

With quiet acknowledgment, you grabbed the orange and began to peel as he placed 2 pieces of bacon in the skillet.

It took less than 10 minutes and Nanami moved to the dining table, a slice of toast placed next to his bacon on a plate and setting out a small dish of fruit with the addition of an apple now. You brought out 2 mugs of coffee, placing his in front of him and sitting across from him with yours.

A butter knife rested awkwardly beside the jar of jam he chose. It was clear he had intended to do more, but something had stopped him.

You didn’t move or say anything, you sipped your coffee and watched as he reached for the jar. His right hand gripped the jar while his left hovered over the lid. His fingers trembled — just slightly — but enough that the lid refused to budge.

You didn’t move at first. You’d quickly learned that Nanami wasn’t the type to appreciate overstepping, even if it came from a place of concern. So you waited, giving him the space to either push through the task or acknowledge the struggle.

After a long moment, his jaw tightened. The jar didn’t budge.

You opened your mouth — not to offer help, but simply to ask if he wanted you to hold the base of the jar steady when his voice cut through the silence.

“Can you…” He paused, the word tasting foreign on his tongue. “Can you open this for me?”

It wasn’t a whisper, nor was it loud. Just a calm, measured request, but you could hear the effort behind it — the weight of a man who wasn’t used to asking for assistance.

You stood and went to his side of the table and gently placed your hand on the lid. “Turn when you’re ready.”

His hand dropped away, switching his left hand out for the right gripping the glass part and his left fingers curling into a loose fist at his side. The lid gave way with a soft pop, and you set it down in front of him without a word.

He didn’t thank you, but there was a small nod — barely noticeable, but it was there.

“Would you like me to slice the apple for you?” you asked, careful not to overstep.

Nanami shook his head. “No. I can manage.”

You sat back down, sipping your coffee as he asked you more questions about your fascination with his Bosch.

_______________________________________

The morning moved quickly. Breakfast cleanup was a breeze as Nanami continued his light reading and non rigorous solo exercises.

During breakfast, you’d been given what you called the key to the cupboard by Nanami. He uttered, with few words, that he didn’t want to prevent you from doing your job. While he limited what that might be, he was quick to say how appreciative he’d be if his bed could be made up, his laundry started and lunch done. He’d have a friend come by to do the rest.

You happily complied and began working on laundry the moment he sat down post breakfast. And by noon, his physical therapist had arrived to continue his exercise routine and mobility work.

Despite the pain he would occasionally feel from the intense stretches he felt near his ankles, this was Nanami’s favorite part of his rehabilitation. Feeling the tightness dissipate as he stretched his neck and chest together. He closed his eyes, allowing the PT to guide his body on top of the exercise ball.

“Now a slow exhale as you reach your arms over your head. Nice and easy.”

The short man moved the ball under Nanami and he grunted.

“Sorry Mr. Nanami, too much?”

Nanami wheezed a chuckle out, “Not enough. Can we do this one more often?”

The therapist exhaled and smiled. “We can. Your body is reacting as it needs to and it seems to be the best exercise to get a reaction out of you. Does it feel like your body is loosening up?”

He nodded, slowly sitting up with assistance. “Definitely. My skin feels less taut at my hips and chest when I open up my arms like that. It feels.. good.”

“That’s what I like to hear. We’re going to finish off with some hands exercises then your aide will be tagged back in to finish the day off with you.”

His session proceeded and came to an end before he knew it. He walked with a bit more confidence as he escorted his therapist to the door and went to find you in the kitchen finishing lunch.

Nanami watched you sliced the cucumber. He nodded at the precision of the knife movements, impressed with how perfect each little sliced green disc was as you added it to the salad bowl. He waited to speak once you sat the knife down.

“You have some really great knife skills.”

You looked up and smiled, wiping your hand on the dish towel nearby. “4 years of cooking for a group of broke college students as a college student. 2 of those years were spent dating a sous chef who taught me some of what I know.”

“I’m sure this sous chef would be happy to know you use these techniques so well.”

“We could only hope,” Expertly, you avoided giving that a full response that would push the topic of your ex. “Where did you learn to cook, Mr. Nanami? I’m sure you are amazing with a Bosch in your kitchen.”

Nanami walked behind you, reaching for two bowls out of the cabinets and placed them next to you. “My grandfather wanted me to be self sufficient once I moved out on my own.” He slowly opened the silverware drawer, pulling out a pair of forks and knives. “And cooking in itself is its own therapy for me.”

You finished placing the grilled chicken in the salad bowl and handed over the tongs to Nanami. “How does cooking make you feel?”

He looked down at the tongs, his heart fluttering with an anxiety he couldn’t place. His eyes found you. “Do you think I can?”

“I’m right here,” you slid one of the eating bowls directly next to him and smiled. “What does cooking do for you?”

Nanami put his eyes back onto the salad and took a deep breath. He grabbed the tongs, gripping them, feeling the cold stainless steel rest in the part of his palm that still had feeling. “Cooking requires me to pay attention. Smell, sounds, how my food is looking.”

He widened the tongs, lowering them into the salad and tossing it lightly, as if he’d harm the lettuce if he placed any pressure.

“What do you usually cook with?” You noticed his hesitance in squeezing the tong tips together, his grip faltering as he exhaled from frustration. “I’m going to hover my hand below yours. Claw extension. Only if you need it.”

Nanami closed his eyes, slowly breathing out as he tried to not lose his momentum. “Garlic. Fresh minced garlic.” He tried again, slowly working his hands closed until he had salad gripped between the flat tips. He carefully moved it over to the dish, hand shaking but making it with no spillage. “I prefer to mince it and store it in water. Taste great every time.”

You smiled as he looked at you for a hint of validation and gave a nod of acknowledgment.

He moved the tongs back to the serving bowl with a glimmer of determination in the way he rolled his shoulders back. He grabbed more and placed it into the bowl, releasing a with a bit of force before sitting the tongs down. “I think I want a bit more tomato.”

Fork in hand, trying to pin down a slice of tomato so he could cut it. His right hand hovered awkwardly, meant to steady the cutting board, but his left — the one gripping the fork — trembled just enough to betray him.

The fork slipped.

The tomato skidded to the side, smearing juice across the surface. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

You didn’t speak either. You knew better than to rush in with help he hadn’t asked for yet.

He reset the slice, pressing the fork down again. His grip was too tight — his knuckles pale from the strain — but the tremor in his fingers wouldn’t let up. The fork scraped against the board, missing the tomato entirely this time.

A sharp pain ran through his forefinger and he dropped the fork, cursing under his breath as he massaged his purlicue.

His gaze stayed locked on the tomato, his shoulders tense.

“You did good. You and the tongs are quite the dynamic duo.”

Nanami felt a heated tear well in his eye before he sucked it back in. “This. Its all so hard sometimes. A fork? I can’t hold a damn fork and its been months.”

He needed to let the frustrations out. It was going to be the only way he could get over those hurdles to feeling whole again.

You stood in silence for a moment, giving him space to process and feel. “Don’t give yourself a timeline but do give yourself grace.”

“Is this all worth it?” You weren’t sure if he was talking to you or himself until he took a few steps back and leaned against the counter looking at you. “Will I be the same person I was before all this? Because I feel like even when I’m giving 200%, I’m failing with no progress.”

“This feels like it’s never going to get better,” Nanami said, his voice low — almost too calm, but there was an edge to it. A rare crack in the carefully composed man standing next to you.

The words hung between you both, heavier than the silence.

You gave him a moment before you spoke. “It’s frustrating,” you said softly. “I know.”

Nanami’s jaw shifted, his lips pressing into a firm line. He didn’t respond right away, as if letting the admission sit out in the open was already more than he was prepared for.

His hand flexed at his side — open, then closed — before, at last, he exhaled through his nose. “Can you help me?”

The question was quiet, but it felt like a victory in its own right.

You nodded, letting him take a few steps forward before stepping in slowly so he had the chance to pull back if he wanted. When he didn’t, you picked up the fork, steadying the tomato with your other hand. The prongs sank into the skin with a soft pop — a simple act, but weighted with everything unspoken.

Nanami’s hand hovered near yours for a moment, then dropped back to his side.

He didn’t thank you, but the small, almost imperceptible nod he gave was enough.

You didn’t push for more words. Instead, you handed him the knife, stepping back just far enough to let him reclaim some of the space —he had let you stand just a little closer, and it was a sign that he was willing to let you in to help.

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #jjk #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #kento x reader #jjk kento #jujutsu kaisen nanami #shibuya arc #lu.logs

177 notes · View notes

larkingame · 2 days ago

Text

so, it's 2025...long time no see.

I'll skip they hi, how are yous and get down to the real meat and potatoes of what I'm here to say. TLDR: Larkin is still being worked on (screenshots + such below) and it's always going to remain a free game, but it's under heavy construction atm. thanks for checking in 🫡

for the two people who want to hear the long sob story that usually comes with these type of posts from online creators: I fucked up my back majorly and was out of work for a long time. I went back to work pre-maturely and! I've fucked it up again. the stress of this, lack of income and the fact that i've been taking a lot of meds to help the injuries (but mess with my ability to stay coherent) has made it really difficult to consistently focus on larkin, writing, social media in general, but it is still getting worked on in bits and pieces.

that said, some back story: I started working on larkin in 2019/2020 and it was really really fun! loved it. had a great time. but then i started posting about it and showed it to other people (and to my surprise they??????? liked it????) which made me put a very large amount of pressure on myself that made it not so fun any more. over time i would go through cycles of it's fun! to it's not fun! and so on and so forth. throughout this time I also had pressure from a lot of people around me (irl) to somehow like. strictly monetize larkin somehow, and as someone who was like VERY INSECURE and obsessed with people like mishka making like insane funds off of her game of the same type?/genre? i gave in to that pressure (if you could not tell by all my occasional dirty deletes of shade towards twc. truly pathetic and if any of yall saw. apologies and thanks for ignoring it.) addressing that: i liked twc when it came out, it was fun for what it was and larkin would not exist without it. so thanks for that miss jenkins and i will probably still passively engage with it on my own time.

but, back to larkin. anyways, the looming pressure of this need to monetize made me hate everything that i was doing and constantly feel like i needed to re-evolve and rework and just, overall not have a fun time with it. throughout the months of november, december and january when i was really missing the days of larkin's existence as an idea when me and my sister would just like walk around our neighborhood and i would just infodump to her about my cowboy vampire ocs. so i found my old larkin notebook and the stickies i made planning plot stuff and avoiding tumblr i just. had fun working on my little cowboy vampire game. like not really thinking about other stuff. and that's essentially it.

so I came to a conclusion: larkin is something i love, and i want to continue loving it. so essentially, i won't be monetizing the game itself. episodes/chapters whatever they end up being in the end will always be free. yay. if you want extra content/want to support me in some way monetarily, feel free to join the patreon, however, I won't really be active on it until i have something substantial to show you game wise. that being said, you can still subscribe for access to the backlog of short stories and art etc. I'm turning off charges each month until i have like a real game for you to play that doesn't make me sick to my stomach to look at or think about. another note: pc players are going to be priority until it's finished. I will have a mobile version but i can't promise you she will be all that pretty.

another note, because larkin is free i can't promise quick turnarounds on anything but what i'll be offering on patreon when i start charging again and additionally: i'm back to making larkin a game for me. i really lost a lot of enjoyment for doing this stuff when i thought about that pressure i put on myself like i mentioned above but also, when i started writing it for other people in mind. first and foremost i am making larkin because i like cowboys, i like vampires, i like horror and religious trauma themes. i'm writing this for me: kc, so i can go on my computer and teehee at all the kissing scenes and make a cool cowboy character with fights. i'm going to make it gay and self-indulgent and basically just have fun with it because it's my game and i am making it and i said so.

all that said here are some of the major things i've done with larkin over this past little while:

updated the website so that it is now useable :)

done a lot of work on the ui:

and i have been rewriting a lot of stuff because I FEEL like it was not good and was not fun for me. THE DEMO FROM LAST JUNE ESPECIALLY. it hurts my stomach to look at.

visually, dan (@tapeworrmart ) has been on his fucking a-game with the art even through my crisis. here's the male ace portrait he put together for me last fall and the art for the main menu:

we also have some more art in the works that i am very excited for because they are in pursuit of new fun features :D

all that said. thanks for the continued support if you're still reading this, appreciate any interest you have in my game.

#larkin game #interactive fiction #game development #larkin #larkin interactive fiction

88 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 23 hours ago

Text

Pent Up 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you seek validation through online correspondence with incarcerated men, only for one to lock you down in turn.

Characters: convict/excon!Thor (silverfox)

Note: It's an addiction now.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

'I never thought I'd be writing to someone like you, but you've shown me a different side of things. I hope that my emails give you comfort and can help you through. Even on the other side, they get me through my day. I'm always excited to read when there's a ding in my inbox.

I hope you also enjoy the little bit I could put in your commissary. If I lived closer, maybe I could bring you something homemade. At the moment, bus fare is a bit too much for my pockets.

Anyway, signing off.

Yours,

Diamond'

You add a whole line of heart emojis to the email then hit send. You giggle and click on the next. You don't have the heart to copy and paste so you add a bit of variety to the next.

This one is... Thor? That's his name. He's a funny one. Considering he's in the pen, you're surprised by that. The others are so dire; pushy too.

You hit reply on his last email. Something about a fight and apologising for not replying earlier. He says he was in solitary for a whole week. That sounds miserable. The thought is enough to scare you straight. It's why you've never done anything wrong in your whole life. Until now.

It's not really wrong. It's allowed. It's legal. You're just sending messages. If anything, it's a community service. These men don't have much more contact than each other and that's a recipe for chaos.

You won't admit that other reason aloud. That tickly feeling in your stomach. When they compliment you, when they say they missed you. You can't help but smile, even giggle sometimes. It's nice to be appreciated, even if it's all a fantasy.

You'll never meet these men. That's the fun part. You don't have to worry about any of this. Maybe that helps. Maybe you think too much when you're face-to-face. That explains why every cute guy you talk to sees past you.

'I forgive you, sweetie. It must have been so hard in there. The important thing is you replied. I got so worried! I hope that after all that, my email can bring a bit of comfort. I have to be honest, I never thought I'd be chatting with someone like you. That I could find this type of connection. Please, take care and email soon.'

Another parade of emojis follows and you send it off happily. Now you just have to wait and see who gets back to you first. If it's Ernie, you're not sure you'll respond. He's been fixated on his cell mate and his emails are getting a bit scary. That's the other great part. You can always just delete and block.

The response comes an hour later. You're sleepy and ready to pass out. You read it anyway.

'You are so kind, my queen.' You giggle. Yeah, he calls you that sometimes. If only he knew you were sitting in bed with an ice cream sandwich wrapper and your cell phone. Definitely not queenly behaviour. 'I got through it by thinking of you, of dreaming of the day when we can talk face-to-face. Wouldn't that be lovely? For all my mistakes, I think they will mean something if you and me can be together.'

You make a face. He's so cheesy. You can't help but laugh again. You're not trying to be cruel, you do empathise with his situation, you can't imagine being in prison, but like anyone else, he earned his time. There's one last light.

'If it isn't too much trouble, would you kindly send a picture so I have a face to admire in my lonelier moments? I've attached my own. Forgive me as it dates a few years back.'

You're not smiling anymore. You haven't sent any of the men pictures. They haven't offered theirs but you can look up their mug shots easily. You hate to ruin the fantasy but curiosity has you tapping the attachment.

Oh. You're surprised. He's older than you in this picture and by his own confession, is more so now. But he isn't repugnant. Anything but. Tall, blond, thick! You don't know if you've ever seen a man that size.

Even in a suit, it's obvious that his arms are bulging and his chest is ripe to burst out as the jacket button clings for dear life. The photo is cropped so that whoever he took it with is out of frame. His blue eyes sparkle above a defined smile. Has prison worn down all that?

You squirm. Guilt needles in your chest. You could close out and worry about it in the morning. You shouldn't be that sympathetic. He's still a criminal. You can say no. Easily. What's he going to do about it?

What could it hurt? If he saw your face. It's not like anyone would know. That anyone would recognise you or that he could find you anywhere else. You keep your social media anonymous. You aren't like the influencers who get attention just for being pretty.

It's that that gives you pause. You aren't anything but average. It's easier to pretend you're some pretty thing as you message these faceless men. Well, maybe that's a good thing. Maybe once he sees you, you won't have to worry about all that other stuff. He'll cut you off at the pass.

The thrill of it overwhelms your reluctance. It's like gambling, it could go either way.

You start a new message. More meaningly rewording of previous sentiments. Nothing new. Then you scroll through your photo roll. You take a breath and press down on a photo you think isn't half bad. It's from market day you went to with your aunt. Not exactly cutting edge but fun. She snuck in the shot as you smiled down at your gooey cinnamon roll. The impromptu snap is better than most of your posed ones.

You send and quickly lock the phone. You shove it under your pillow and swipe up the wrapper beside you. You leave it on your night stand and sink down, your insides swimming with anxiety. You're going to regret this in the morning.

🎀

'Will you call me?'

The question makes you sweat. You don't know why you feel bad. You've said no before. To him. To all of them. You draw a thick line between your secret little hobby and your real life. You shouldn't have ever sent that photo.

Despite your regret, you smile. His response was more than you could expect. The praise! You don't know that anyone ever even called you cute but he as good as wrote you a poem about your beauty. You have to remind yourself, given his circumstance, he's starved. He'd probably think your nan is sexy.

Still, you're having a hard time typing those two letter; N-O. Thor is so nice. And he asked so sweetly. But you can't do that. What if someone found out?

This whole thing is starting to feel like a big mistake, but it's so much fun. When in your life will men ever be this into you? When have they ever?

'I could call' you type without thinking. What are you doing? 'Let me know how to do that and we can set a time maybe.'

Don't hit send. Don't hit send.

Email sent.

Shit. Oh gosh. Why did you do that?

You close your laptop and leave it on your desk. You need to get ready for work. You can't be worrying about a man you'll never meet. It's all virtual, it's not real. You'll be okay.

You get yourself together and brace yourself for work. You don't really like your job. You work the counter at a tech repair shop. Independent so it's small and slow. Your boss is a bit strange too.

The only benefit is it's close and it pays a few bucks more than the alternative. You're even allowed to work on your online courses at the service desk. Really, it's perfect. You guess you're just not happy with things being boring.

You blow over the lid of your Sailor Moon travel mug and knock on the door. Jensen lets you in with a grin and stifles a yawn in his elbow. You step past him with a sheepish smile.

"If it isn't the champion of justice," he greets smugly and locks the door. You won't open for another half hour.

"Huh?" You go to the counter and slide your bag onto the shelf underneath.

"Your cup," he crosses the shop. “I am Sailor Moon, the champion of justice. In the name of the moon, I will right wrong and triumph over evil… and that means you!”

"Oh, right," you snort at his cheesiness. "You have espresso or something?"

"Red bull," he admits guiltily.

"This early?"

"Early? I never went to sleep," he comes around and goes back to typing on his glowing gaming computer. "Couldn't let my crew down."

You could roll your eyes. All he does is play Fortnite or Halo. He looks like he does too. Yet, he's in here moping after every rare stunner that walks through the door. That's why you'er there. He gets all tongue-tied with women. Well, all of them but you.

"You should join the party," he suggests.

"Well, I don't really play anymore," you shrug. "It was only for fun. My siblings... like it."

"Oh yeah, how's the family?"

"Good, I guess. They don't really call."

Your mom's too busy rebuilding her life with your step-dad. Rather, building the perfect life she never had. You sigh and open up your laptop. You grab your coffee and sip. You're tired of being forgotten.

"Jake," you say, he winces at the use of his first name, "Jensen," you glance at him, "you're a dude."

"Yeah, I am" he answers uncertainly.

"Well, you might know more than I do. You know anyone in prison? Any guys?"

"What?" He exclaims. "Where did that come from?"

"Mm... I was watching a documentary last night," you lie. "About prison or whatever."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, and about you know," you sway and look at your laptop. You're terrible at lying. "The women who like write to them or whatever."

"Ew, like the Ted Bundy weirdos?" He scoffs.

"Not exactly. I mean, none of them were murderers. I think," you shrug. "But... like, if you were in prison, you'd need that, right? I mean, it's just to get you through."

"I don't know. It'd be lonely, yeah, but like... what about after?" He scratches his neck. "I got a buddy who was in for a while but he's a good dude. He was only selling... stuff."

"Really?" You perk up, "he went to prison?"

"Well, he doesn't like to talk about it," Jensen says. "Why are you talking about this?"

"Making conversation. I was just thinking about the show," you sign into your laptop. "Just thinking... I mean, how do you even end up there?"

"Bad things. I learned my lesson when I was sixteen. I broke into the high school on a dare and the cops put me in cuffs for two hours. They let me go once I cried... I mean, I was a kid so..."

You nod and try not to show any judgment. That sounds about right. A notification pops up in the corner as Jensen goes back to the fluttering over his keyboard. You click on the email.

'I've been granted call-time at noon. You can call the number below and request by my inmate number...'

You quickly minimize and hide behind your cup as you slurp. Shoot. You didn't think he'd be so fast. A call at noon? You can't say no. Not now that he got approved.

Well, this is the only time it's happening.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #marvel #mcu #avengers #pent up

116 notes · View notes

swampstew · 3 days ago

Text

Little update on me and mine ~

I know I've been radio silent but I have been BUSY. I will be BUSY. Probably til the summer. Why?

THIS BITCH BOUGHT A RANCH STYLE HOUSE!

So I will be doing renovations, cleaning, and fixing the place up before we officially move into our new swamp. I'm so excited for this transition - what we plan to be our forever home. Which means I won't have the time to do story/fic updates or other events until I am all done with that. It's been a long time coming and I need to nest it up!

What I plan to do in the meantime is - juggle my existing blogs as best as I can. @killercooksblog has been complete in its format for a while, and I am excited to formally announce that Kid's OnlyFans account made a blog page ;) @thecaptainsdeck

Not only does Kid's page have its own site, there is a page dedicated to Killer's new OnlyFans page ~ KillerCam ~ here are some crumbs to give y'all a taste of his thotty side.

KillerCam: Call for a good time | KillerCam: Messy

Additionally, I've mentioned in the past that while I love the following I've built up here - it also feels impersonal unless I'm constantly posting content, which tbh is what most of you are here for anyways. SO --- Check out and follow my sideblog @swampstew-stories ♥

I'm reposting all my original content to this page and using THAT as my writing/requests/canva headers/content page, and keeping my main ~SwampStew~ as just my interaction blog. I'll still keep up some of my posts but will archive the rest. So if ya see a blog posting my stories, it should only be coming from that account :) Pardon the dusty space, I've been agonizing on the theme and media for months until it felt homey.

Please please follow @swampstew-stories for any and all stories by me - past, present and future! This will be the ONLY account I host events for holidays or milestones and requests. I already outlined and crafted an idea for my 1.5K, but if everyone follows the sideblog and we reach 2K, I will lock in and unleash the holy trinity of creation with the idea. I'm talking art, music, and written content. Very few know the details and I promise it is gonna be So Fucking Worth It. That will def be after I move and everything but by then I will have an art studio + writing nook to really immerse myself back into creating fun OP centric things.

Love yas, Raven

#Raven announces #eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #kid pirates #one piece fanfiction #one piece x reader #swampstew-stories #killercook #thecaptainsdeck #eustasscaptainkid #one piece killer #eustass kid x reader #killer x reader #eustass captain kid #tldr; moving swamps and blogs. will be on hiatus til summer but then I'm So Back #gods kinktober alone is gonna be mrmrrprppsdhsdsds #i'll try and post here and there and interact a bit during breaks #Raven builds her nest

45 notes · View notes

maraschinomerry · 2 days ago

Text

Bottom of the Rainbow

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader

Summary: after George gets mad at you for keeping a secret, you finally share your unusual hobby with him - searching for the ends of rainbows

Content: sunshine x grump, fluff, mentions of reader's dad (positive), first kiss

A/N: I'm back after nearly a year!! Another sunshine x grump fic, except George isn't really a grump so much as just himself 😅 inspired by but not a continuation of You Are My Sunshine. Thank you as always to my Georges for the support, especially Lisa for beta reading 🫶

Word count: 5.2k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea @mischiefmanaged71 (to be added or removed, just let me know!)

It was, as most people would describe it, a thoroughly miserable day, and you couldn't be more excited.

As far as the eye could see (which currently wasn’t far at all), London was draped in thick grey clouds, from which poured heavy lances of rain that lashed against the windows of 35 Portland Row like they were trying to break in. The house was quiet save for the dull drumming from the other side of the glass. Lucy was upstairs recording a cassette for Norrie, Lockwood was training in the basement, and George was… somewhere, so you had the living room to yourself. It was rather peaceful really, sitting in your armchair by the window, watching the movements of the sky.

The floorboard by the door creaked as George entered with a huff. So much for peaceful.

“If you're waiting for a client, you're wasting your time,” the curly-haired boy pointed out as he flopped onto the sofa. “We're not expecting anyone and very few people are daft enough to turn out in this weather on the off-chance we'll take their case.”

“Oh no,” you replied cheerily, “just waiting for the rain to die down.”

“Not a fan?” If only he knew. But that was just it, he didn't really know you at all. You'd been part of the same agency, living under the same roof, for 3 months now, and the two of you were still almost as distant as the day you started. Sure, you knew now how each other worked, the way you handled cases, but when it came down to your personal lives you'd found out very quickly how different you were from one another. He was so quick-witted and sardonic, while you didn't have a sarcastic bone in your body. Lucy and Lockwood were able to go toe-to-toe with him, but it was clear he was holding back because they were friends. You'd seen George talk to Kipps once. He was brutal. At least the others had some softness to them, which made you feel a little less like the odd one out.

“Hello?” George's voice brought you back into the room, and you realised you'd been staring out the window again.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. What was it he'd asked? Oh, not a fan of the rain. “I don't mind the rain, actually.”

“Well you live in the right country then.” He'd already picked up his book, and it seemed like he wasn't all that interested in your opinions on the weather or in continuing the conversation at all, so you allowed the room to lull back into the ambient quiet of the pattering outside.

George was quite engrossed in his book, but occasionally he would glance up and find you still watching the rain. What was the big deal, anyway? It wasn’t like it hadn't rained most weeks since you'd arrived, yet every time you gazed out the window like you’d moved to London from a desert. Still, at least you were peaceful with it, creating a companionable quiet for him to read or do research without having to engage in idle chatter. For all your chipper nature and relentless enthusiasm, you were surprisingly reserved. He respected that.

Suddenly, the quiet was broken by an excitable squeak from by the window. George lowered his book in time to see you leap to your feet, face glowing with a smile and the radiance of the sunlight which was finally breaking through the parting clouds.

“Back soon!” you called as you bolted from the room, and within seconds the slam of the front door rang out. Bewildered, George pushed himself up from the sofa and ventured into the hallway. There was an empty space on the shoe rack where your boots normally sat, and the coat rack showed the distinct absence of your yellow raincoat. He opened the front door with a frown, just in time to see a flash of yellow disappear round the corner. The bright pockets of blue that had appeared in the sky caused him to squint, so much so that he almost missed the colours brushed across one of the lower clouds. A rainbow, dipping behind a nearby house.

You returned about 10 minutes later, looking slightly out of breath and considerably less excited than you had when you left. George was back in his place on the sofa, and this time he barely even lowered his book as he addressed you passing the doorway. “What was that all about?”

“Oh,” you replied falteringly, “it was nothing really.” How odd, George thought.

The second time it happened, all four of the group were there. You'd been out for breakfast to celebrate a case well done, and the cafe had provided welcome respite from the rain. Soon enough you all headed for home, when the telltale streak of colour appeared against the vanishing clouds. George was only slightly less surprised this time by the delighted squeal from your end of the line, which was immediately followed by you breaking away in a jog.

“Don't wait for me, I'll see you at home!” you called over your shoulder as you picked up speed.

Lucy frowned. “Should we follow them?”

George was tempted. As much as it didn't really make much difference to him what you did with your free time, he had to admit he was curious where you kept running off to. Still, he shrugged and carried on in the direction of Portland Row and the other two eventually followed.

The coat hooks in the hallway were empty when the trio arrived home, distinctly lacking in yellow. You said you'd meet back here, but with how quickly you were moving they'd assumed you meant you'd get there first. By the time it reached half an hour since you'd gone off, an odd air had descended over the group, tinged with concern.

“Do we know where y/n was running off to?” Lockwood asked, breaking the silence. George had the beginnings of a suspicion, but he couldn't be sure, so he stayed quiet.

Lucy, meanwhile, was less calm. She stood by your chair in the window, peering out every time someone walked by. “Are we sure they're okay? Shouldn't we be going out and looking?”

“Lucy, it's barely gone 10,” George finally piped up. “It won't be dark for hours, they're not exactly in any danger.”

“You've seen the enemies we've made in the past,” she retorted. “You really want to take that risk?”

A bolt of worry shot through George; he tried his best to hide it but was less successful at hiding the way he almost leapt out of his armchair at the sound of a key in the front door.

You sighed as you kicked off your boots. All that for nothing. You'd even gone to all the effort of running with your kit bag, which wasn't exactly light, and it still hadn't been worth it. Sure, lots of the other times had ended up like this, but somehow it stung even more today. At least it seemed like everyone was off doing their own thing so you could sneak up to your room and have some time to yourself.

The living room door swung open, and you caught a glimpse of dark curls.

So much for that plan.

“Where have you been?” George asked sharply.

You groaned quietly, hoisting your bag up and heading for the stairs. “Not now George, please.”

The thud of a second pair of feet on the stairs made your heart drop even further. “No, no, hang on! You can't just run off like that. Do you not trust us or something?”

“George!”

“Well that's what it feels like! We were-” he stopped for a fraction of a second, “Lucy and Lockwood were worried about you. Not even a hint of where you'd gone, what you were doing, how long you'd be…”

You'd reached your room by now, throwing your kit bag onto your bed and sinking down beside it. George lingered in the doorway, but he didn't let up.

“I was just… doing something.”

“Oh,” George scoffed. “So what was so important and secretive that you couldn't just tell us? Were you seeing someone?”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You tried to blink them away without him noticing. The last thing you wanted right now was to talk to anyone, let alone be interrogated or lectured by someone so cynical that they'd never understand your motivations. “No-”

“Then what?!”

“I was trying to find the bottom of the rainbow!” The words burst out of you in almost a yell, making the quiet that followed twice as loud. Your gaze was fixed firmly on the floor, and yet you were painfully aware of the look of confusion and judgement on George's face. Maybe if you kept staring at that one spot for long enough, he'd finally leave you alone. “That's why I didn't tell you,” you mumbled. “Because I was afraid you'd look at me like that.”

George stood, frozen, just beyond the threshold of your room. He knew he could be harsh sometimes, but his friends didn't usually mind and anyone who did was met with an even stronger retort. He was the way he was, and that had never been an issue.

Until now.

He wasn't sure which part he felt worse about - the fact you thought he was looking at you in some kind of way, or the fact that you were expecting it. The two of you weren't the closest, but you were friends, weren't you? At the very least, you were a team. You were supposed to have each other's backs.

“Sorry,” he started after what felt like an age. “I just… I don't get it.”

“It's nothing,” you sniffed. Hang on, were you crying? Because of him?

George hesitated a moment, weighing up the impact of crossing both a physical and emotional barrier, before stepping into your room. He glanced around, taking in your space properly for the first time. The pile of books on your desk, the faded music posters on the walls, the photos taped around the mirror. And you, seeming smaller than usual, curled into yourself on the bed, still not looking at him. His voice was soft when he spoke, surprising you both. “We wouldn't be here if it was nothing. Help me understand why it matters to you.”

When you still didn't speak, he thought perhaps he'd crossed a line. Perhaps you were finding the nerve to tell him to get out. He didn't normally do things like this, he had no idea what to expect. He was so busy considering whether to leave that he almost didn't hear you.

“It was my dad's idea.”

George turned his attention from the door and found your gaze on him at last. The slight tears on your lashes, the way you chewed anxiously at your lip, the absolute vulnerability of the moment stirred something in him. He swallowed the feeling. He knew your family were still around to some extent, you mentioned them from time to time, but it hit him that you never talked about them in depth, just a passing comment now and again. You never told him anything proper about them. Or maybe it was just that he'd never asked. “Is that him in the photos?” He gestured to the mirror. You nodded, then gave an extra nod towards the mirror in an unspoken invitation.

The pictures, a mixture of Polaroids and film prints, spanned well over a decade. An adorable short-haired toddler, a beaming child with their front teeth missing, a pre-teen who had clearly shot up out of nowhere, all the way up to you in your first agency training uniform. A couple of the shots were of you and your former teammates, but many of the rest featured an older man. The ones that didn't, George suspected, had been taken by him.

You watched George warily, waiting for whatever comment he was going to make next. The comment never came, and you realised that he was actually paying attention to what he was looking at. You quietly stood, your feet sinking into the rug around your bed, and joined him by the mirror.

“That was our first rainbow,” you murmured, pointing to a faded photo. The boy beside you jumped a little, having been too engrossed to notice your approach. He followed your finger to a photo of you, about 3 or 4 years old, grinning next to the boundary of a lush green field. Just beyond the fence, almost lost to the wear of time, was a thick streak across the sky touching down into the grass. The red and blue had sustained the worst fading, but it was still unmistakable. “We came across it by chance, and my dad told me it was special finding the end of a rainbow. He bought me a whole bar of chocolate on the way home, bigger than the ones mum usually let me have.” You pointed out a couple more photos of rainbows the two of you had found and the outcomes - a special dessert one time, a new pair of boots the next. “Even after I started training and found some on my own, something good would always happen. This one was just before I got my first grade.” It was on the far side of the mirror, so you had to lean to point it out. As you began to pull back, you suddenly realised how close you were standing. His face was nearer yours than it had ever been before, and you breathed in bergamot and cinnamon. George wasn't looking where your finger was either; he was looking at you, not the strange way he had before but a new, equally strange way. You felt your cheeks grow warm, and you quickly went and sat back on the bed, this time leaving a space.

“So that's it? You're going after them for the tradition, and to try and make something good happen?” George asked, his attention now fully on you.

You kicked your feet a little, scuffing them along the rug. “Sort of. It's nice getting the extra boost of luck, but recently…”

George came closer, and when you made no protest he perched in the empty space on your bed. He gave you a small, awkward yet encouraging smile. “Your dad?”

You pulled a face, your nose scrunching. George wanted to make a joke about it making you look like a bunny, fighting the urge to call it cute, but now wasn't the time. He let you speak instead. “I told him I'd write and send a photo when I caught my first London rainbow, but that was months ago. I've spoken to him since of course, but only by phone. The longer I leave it, the more I feel like I can't write without having found one. It doesn't feel the same.” There were tears in the corners of your eyes again.

“You'll find one sooner or later,” George said reassuringly. “It's England after all, you've seen how often it rains.”

You laughed, the tension leaving your shoulders as you wiped your eyes on the cuff of your sleeve. “Thanks, George. And thank you for, you know, understanding.”

“Just promise you won't run off on your own any more, okay? Take one of us with you.”

“I promise. I suppose it's safer that way.”

“Well there is that,” he smirked, “and you'll need someone to take your photo.”

—

It had been just over a week, and you were amazed by how much things had changed. You'd never been uncomfortable around George, you'd just accepted that the two of you were too dissimilar to be close, but now you found yourself wondering how you had ever thought that. You found yourself seeking out his company more often, even if you were both sitting in silence doing your own hobbies - last week, his presence had frustrated you, now you almost craved it. It seemed like he sought you out more too. On that first evening, he'd brought you an album full of pictures of his own family to reciprocate you sharing yours. If he was cooking and you were passing through to or from the basement, he'd either start a conversation that forced you to stay for a few more minutes or he'd ask for you to pass him one ingredient after the other until the meal became a joint effort.

One day, you found yourself accompanying George to the Archives to help with research. It hadn't been a successful day by any standard - someone had borrowed the book George really needed, and the article you were after had been badly damaged by an overeager junior Tendy's agent. The worst part was that you were both absolutely drenched from the downpour you'd arrived in. Thank goodness you both had coats, or it would have been an utterly horrible day, but they hadn't protected you from getting soaked from the waist down. Your boots had only just stopped squelching. The two of you called it a day after an hour of fruitless searching for other potentially useful materials, and you turned up your hood as you headed for the door in preparation. The soft grey of the clearing clouds that met you was a welcome relief, and you immediately started scanning the skies as you walked away.

There.

You gasped in excitement at the vibrancy of the rainbow in the near distance. It was the clearest you'd seen in all your time in London. “George!” you called, already starting to head towards it. He hadn't spotted it, hadn't moved. Each second was too precious for you to wait. Without thinking, you grabbed his hand and ran towards the corner. He stumbled a bit at first and his grip tightened around yours, taken by surprise, but he quickly fell into a matching pace. Together you hurtled through the city, narrowly avoiding collisions with pedestrians and lampposts alike. You'd almost lost hope when at last you turned a corner and stopped dead in your tracks. George nearly ran into your back. The colours were fainter than they had been, but they were still clear as day where they fell just the other side of a large puddle. You let out a squeak, and if you didn't know better you'd swear the hand in yours squeezed its encouragement. What was for sure, though, was the way the hand pulled you back as you began to move forward. You frowned.

“Give me your camera,” George prompted.

“Oh, right.” With a hint of reluctance, you let go of his hand and pulled a slim disposable camera from your coat pocket. Once again, George stopped you. He directed you to behind the puddle, with the rainbow landing in front, before cautiously stepping into the road and lining up his shot.

“On three, jump. One, two, three!”

You jumped into the puddle with a joyful giggle, the droplets that flew up around you illuminated by the flash of the camera. George took another still photo in case the first one didn't turn out well before handing the camera back. Through the little window on the back, you could see the number 1. You raised the viewfinder to your eye.

“Whoa, what are you doing?”

“Well, I'm not getting this developed and wasting a perfectly good shot, but I don't want to wait until I find another rainbow to finish it off. Smile!”

George rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, but he was smiling in spite of himself, and you were smiling too as you pressed the shutter.

You weren't quite sure where you'd ended up, so you followed George who seemed to know a route home. It wasn't until you got to more familiar surroundings that you realised you'd been too giddy to notice exactly which way you were going.

“Isn't the house that way?” you pointed back over your shoulder.

George shrugged. “It is, but we're not going home yet. Lockwood and Lucy won't be expecting us back so soon, so we're going to Arif's for doughnuts.”

You blushed. You hadn't expected anything from George when you dragged him along, you were quite happy to wait for the usual moment of good fortune, but it was unexpectedly thoughtful that he'd paid attention to your tradition and considered this. While you were dragging your heels, clearly not wanting to push the boundaries of generosity, he bought you a rich chocolate doughnut with a salted caramel filling (the kind you'd secretly eyed up before but found too decadent to buy yourself) and a strawberries and cream one for himself. Stepping back out into the sunshine, you sat together on a small bench across the road to eat. The wood was a little damp from the rain, but without hesitation George laid his coat down and sat on one half. You were about to remark about him catching a cold as you squeezed yourself onto the other half, but the warmth radiating into your side caused the words to die in your throat. You nestled in a bit closer; if George noticed, he didn't say anything about it. You unwrapped your sweet prize and held it up, beaming when George touched his to it in a silent toast.

“That was… kind of fun, actually,” he said almost like he was surprised at having enjoyed himself.

“It was!” you grinned. “It was nice having someone to share it with again. And thanks for the doughnut.”

George thought for a minute. “So what's next, you write to your dad and then what? Look for the next one?”

“Exactly. I find it quite encouraging in a way, knowing that whatever happens, however bad things might get, there are always going to be more rainbows. It's got me this far.”

“Well I hope there's a bit of a break before the next one. I'm a researcher, I'm not used to all this running around.”

You blinked. Was he implying he wanted to join you again? And why did you hope that was what he meant?

Lockwood was draped across the sofa when you got home. He peered over the top of his magazine as you closed the front door.

“That took a while. Was it a productive session?”

You worried at your lip. You still hadn't told Lockwood or Lucy about your unusual hobby, and in the moment you felt a bit silly to have been running round and having fun when you hadn't done the work you set out to do. You glanced nervously at George.

“Sort of,” the other boy replied, giving you a reassuring look before turning to Lockwood. “Although I want you to know that if I ever get my hands on the agent who spilled coffee over that newspaper article I was telling you about, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

“Y/n, I think you need to accompany George more often, we can’t afford to be blacklisted from any other establishments,” Lockwood winked at you.

“In that case,” George faked a scowl, “perhaps they ought to accompany me while I make us lunch so I don't set your kitchen on fire.”

You nodded, before glancing pointedly at Lockwood. It was time to come clean. “I'll be with you in a sec.” Thankfully, the curly-haired boy got the message, and left you to explain in your own time.

—

Everyone had been very supportive, much to your relief. Lucy had gone rainbow-hunting with you a few times over the following months, Lockwood a couple more, and on one occasion you'd ended up taking the whole team with you on the way back from an errand. It was fun getting to spend time and share your passion with them all, and now you had a whole new array of pictures being developed that you couldn't wait to add to your mirror, but you had to admit that your favourite were the times when it was you and George. You'd been out searching together again just before you collected your first photos, and it wasn't until you reread the letter to your dad before sending and noticed you'd dedicated an entire paragraph to talking about your coworker that you finally admitted to yourself why that was the case. Something good did always happen still, regardless of who you were with, but with him it felt different. He always put in that little bit extra. And gradually, you felt different. Before long you were analysing almost every interaction the two of you had - every late night conversation in one of your rooms, every time his hand grazed yours or he made the effort to give physical contact when you needed reassurance on a case (he didn't do that with anyone else, but that didn't mean it meant anything, right?). You tried not to read too much into it all, telling yourself that even if things had changed it was only because he felt obliged to keep an eye on you so you wouldn't run off again.

You'd now been with the agency just over 6 months, marking 3 months since you'd first run off and started this whole chain of events. Last night had been a particularly rough case, so you were letting off steam in the basement training area. The powerful beat of your music drowned out your grunts of frustration as you swung your rapier through the jets of air, and you yelped when suddenly you spun round to find not a white cloud but George. Clearly you hadn't heard him coming down the stairs. Time seemed to slow as you stumbled backwards, terrified of hurting him or worse, that you'd already done so. One of your feet caught on the other, and you felt the blade fall from your hand as you grasped for something, anything, to stop you from falling. A hand, warm and steady, wrapped around your waist. You gaped up at George in surprise. He seemed just as shocked, though whether that was because of his action or because in the heat of the moment his fingers had caught under your top and gripped the skin above your waistband, you couldn't say. Another blast made you jump, bringing you back to reality, and you frantically hid your blushes as the boy flicked off the training equipment and mouthed something, his words inaudible. You launched yourself to the stereo and paused your music. The silence was deafening.

“I take it you couldn't hear anything, then?”

You frowned, wondering what you were supposed to have heard. Had he been calling you? Then, out of the quiet, a sound emerged. A persistent pattering on the window. Rain.

“You need to come outside right now.” He offered you his hand. Blushing again, you took it, and he led you up the stairs and through to the hallway. You'd been so caught up in the moment that you hadn't realised he was wearing his coat until he took yours from the hook and helped you into it. Hoods up, you both stepped out onto the street. You glanced around. This had to be about a rainbow. But where was it? George gently placed a hand on your shoulder, moving you until you could follow his eyeline.

You gasped.

There in the distance, glorious against the grey clouds, was the most vibrant rainbow you'd ever seen. Above it, much paler but still noticeable, was a fragment of inverted colours. A double rainbow. Frozen in awe, you almost forgot the urgency of the situation, until George took your hand again and started running. Together you wove through the streets, occasionally calling directions or words of encouragement as you drew closer. The colours remained ever vibrant, a beacon of joy across the sky. You found yourselves in a small park, where the main arc of the rainbow touched down into the grass beside a wooden gazebo. Both of you were panting, but you no longer needed words to communicate; George simply held out his hand, and you passed him your camera. He couldn't help but smile behind it as you twirled through the rain with a laugh, feet sinking into the sodden ground, and gave the biggest grin he'd known you to have, even in the photos he'd seen. Then he came closer, turning the camera round and pulling you into his side as he snapped a photo of the two of you. Soon the adrenaline wore off and you were faced with the fact that you'd just run all the way here and it was still raining, so you climbed into the gazebo and slumped down onto a bench. George sat beside you, leaning his head back against a pillar.

“Can you believe that's the first time I've ever seen a double rainbow?” you sighed. The feelings were overwhelming. You'd barely believed you would ever have this experience, of course you'd always thought you'd share it with your dad but somehow being here with George felt like everything it needed to be.

“Seriously? That definitely deserves a celebration.”

You giggled, leaning playfully towards him.

“Does that mean doughnuts on the way home again?”

Something in his demeanour shifted and you worried you'd pushed things too far. His smile was smaller, wavering, and his hand went from almost brushing yours to playing with the hem of his coat.

“Sorry, you don't have to-” you began.

“No, it's… I meant something bigger, since this is such an important moment for you, like, um, like dinner?”

Why was he so nervous about that? It was a great suggestion! You loved nothing more than the times you spent cooking together and it was sweet that he'd realised how much it meant. “Sure,” you reassured him, “what shall we cook?”

He swallowed thickly, voice coming out low and cautious. “Actually, I meant could I buy you dinner?”

Maybe it was the clouds starting to clear. Maybe it was later than you thought and the ghost lamps were starting to come on. Maybe it was just your own obliviousness finally crumbling. Whatever it was, you looked at George in a whole new light, at the way he was watching you carefully and expectantly.

“George Casper Karim, are you asking me on a date?”

He hesitated. “That depends on whether you're saying yes.”

You moved closer and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Does that answer your question?”

George began to lean in, but then he stopped. You started to worry again that you'd done something wrong, until he took your hand and led you from the gazebo. It was just drizzling now, the droplets coating his dark curls in a fine mist and splashing onto your own hair as you stepped outside. The rainbow was still there, fading as the rain died away, and as you were drawn towards its colours George spun you into it, catching you by the waist and bringing his lips to yours. Your mind was filled with fireworks, interlaced with that cosy cinnamon scent which had grown so familiar. He felt and tasted as warm as the sun which was starting to re-emerge, and as his hand came up and settled on your chin, thumb stroking across your cheek, you decided that the photo he'd just taken of the two of you would be going in pride of place on your mirror.

#lockwood & co #george karim x reader #gn!reader #lockwood & co fanfic #lockwood & co x reader #save lockwood and co

24 notes · View notes

moody-alcoholic · 3 hours ago

Text

Inspired by: Service Dog Johnny by the amazing void-my-warranty. I had the idea of; what if the roles were slightly different. What if Johnny invited Simon to come and fuck his girl to get over his fears.

Anyway. I'm super nervous about this because I really don't think I can do SDJ justice but enjoy none the less. Also void if you're seeing this you're awesome thank you for gifting the world SDJ.❤️

Part 1

Summary: John MacTavish x reader x Simon Riley (kinda), WC: 3.2k

CW: +18 content MDNI, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, fingering, angst, implied past abuse.

Enjoy <3

---

It’s Friday when Johnny springs the news his friend is coming round that evening. He didn’t give you much time to prepare, or get the house clean but you do the best you can. Johnny does go to the store for you and picks up some beer for them both.

“You don’t need to do anything special.” Johnny says opening a beer.

“I don’t mind, it's not that big of a deal, I like cooking.” You say, he comes over and wraps his arm round your waist kissing your neck.

“What exactly does he need help with?” You asks stirring the food.

“Well, it’s.” He sighs, taking another sip of the beer. You turn to look at him, he seems nervous.

“Would you ever be up for a threesome?” He asks suddenly. The question shocks you a little, you reach over and pick up your glass of wine. You weren’t expecting that, not the most unusual thing Johnny has asked you about when it comes to sex though.

“I mean, would you?” You ask taking a sip to quell the nerves.

“Depends on who the other person is.” He says, running his hand through his hair. You take another sip and put the glass down.

“What has this got to do with Simon? Is he the person you would want to have a threesome with?” You ask frowning. He takes another swing of his beer.

“It’s not that simple.” Johnny says, you shake your head, now you’re even more confused.

“I want to help him have sex.” Johnny says, holding his hands out.

“Help him have sex by having a threesome?” You ask.

“There’s more to it than that. It’s not just a threesome.” Johnny says. “He’s, he’s been through alot. Being intimate, it’s something he’s not very used to.”

“Okay. Is he shy?” You’re not sure what to say, you've never even met him.

“Shy? No, not Simon, well-” Johnny’s sentence gets cut off by the ringing of the door.

“Just trust me, okay?” He says coming over to you and resting his free hand on your shoulder. You nod, you trust him. Now all of a sudden you feel nervous, you weren’t nervous before now, Johnny leaves the room to answer the door. So he’s invited Simon round for sex? Did Simon ask for this or is this one of Johnny’s master plans?

Or well, maybe he’s not here for sex because Simon has intimacy issues apparently. He should be talking to a therapist, what does Johnny expect to do? You have to keep a straight face though, you don’t want to make him more uncomfortable then he probably already is.

You turn off the stove hearing Johnny laugh as he comes in with Simon. You turn and smile at him, you put your hand out to shake it as Johnny introduces you. He’s not what you expect and he doesn’t seem shy.

He’s massive, bigger and taller than Johnny, he’s definitely good looking, fit, brown eyes and blonde hair. With the way he holds himself you can tell he’s a soldier, Johnny does the same when he’s nervous, he probably doesn’t even realise it.

“Thank you for cooking, you didn’t have to.” Simon says as you all walk over to the dining table.

“I told her the same,” Johnny says, nudging him.

“I don’t mind, besides when was the last time you had a home cooked meal?” You say going back into the kitchen while Johnny and Simon sit down. You finish your glass of wine swallowing the nerves, it’s going to be fine. What's the worst that could happen, you all have sex?

That wouldn’t be the worst thing.

…

Johnny and Simon seem to get on great, after a beer they both relax. You just enjoy listening to them talk about their last deployment. You don’t mind letting your second glass of wine mull you out. After everyone is finished and your stomach’s have settled Johnny insists on moving to the living room.

You all end up on the sofa, you find yourself relaxing against Johnny as he wraps his arms around you. Maybe Johnny won’t bring it up or maybe he’s waiting for Simon to bring it up. It’s not your job surly, you look up at Johnny, blinking at him, maybe he’ll get the idea.

He smiles and kisses your forehead. Maybe not. You sigh looking back over at the bottle of wine and unopened beer cans on the table.

“When was the last time you got laid LT?” Johnny asks suddenly. You snap your head back up to look at him. He’s got a cheeky grin on his face looking over at Simon. You hear him clear his throat, now you feel bad. Fucking epitome of subtle as always Johnny.

“Why do you want to know?” Simon replies, you look over at him. He’s resting the beer on his knee, he doesn’t seem nervous. More irritated that Johnny asked him.

“Just looking out for you Si. Need you to blow off some steam before we’re back to work and you’re busting my balls again.” Johnny chuckles, at least that makes Simon smile.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask him trying to steer the conversion away from the awkwardness hanging in the air.

“No.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat. You let out a breath sitting up. Johnny frowns at you.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You say, Johnny smiles his hand resting on your hip for as long as can.

When you make your way back down you hear Johnny talking. You hang back for a second and eavesdrop.

“I wanna help you Simon.” Johnny says.

“You don’t have to.” Simon replies.

“Well of course I don’t have to. I want to.” Johnny replies, Simon sighs and you hear a can open. “I think it would be good for you, if you want. We’ll take it slow, promise.”

You feel a lump rise in your throat at Johnny’s words, you always knew he was close with his unit but you didn’t know he was this close. You let out a breath and slowly walk back into the room. You see Johnny move his hand off Simon’s thigh and you go over to pick the empty cans off the table.

“Need anything?” You ask, trying to keep your voice level. Johnny and Simon both shake their heads. You go into the kitchen anyway to throw out the cans. You hear Johnny coming in, his hands slip round your waist. You smile at his touch and turn to face him.

“Do you mind doing this?” Johnny asks, his thumb comes up to brush your cheek.

“Do you?” You ask. He smiles, nodding his head. You smile back, reaching up and kissing him.

“We’ll take it slow. You want to stop at any time we will.” Johnny says his hand rubbing your arm.

“I don’t think it’s me you need to be worrying about.” You say.

“Sorry I sort of sprung this on you, I didn’t know if he would agree.” He says, you frown.

“Did you speak to him about this before tonight?”

“I hinted at the idea.”

“Hinted?” You scoff. “John MacTavish, you're the least subtle person I have ever met.” You wrap your arm around his waist pulling him against you. He hums with that cheeky grin on his face.

“What happened to the bra?” He asks. You smile.

“One less obstacle.” He kisses your forehead. You follow him back into the living room, Simon has moved onto the recliner. This time when you sit back on the sofa you don’t lean against Johnny.

Simon seems to be suddenly extremely interested in what’s going on on the news. Johnny’s hand lands on your thigh and rubs it. He turns and leans in to kiss you, he takes his time mapping your mouth out, you relax into the kiss forgetting Simon’s there for a second.

Johnny’s hand slips up your shirt groping your breast. You hum in his mouth and he pulls away from the kiss. He removes it, gripping the hem of your shirt. You raise an eyebrow at him, what you’re just going to fuck while he watches or maybe joins in.

Johnny tips his head to the side smiling. You swallow the nerves and hold your hands up so he can slip your top off. A satisfied noise leaves Johnny and before you can start to feel really embarrassed about anything he’s already locked his mouth round one of your nipples.

You can’t help moaning and running your hand through his hair. He had it cut while he was away, you want him to grow it out again so you have something to grip onto. Johnny’s tongue flicks your nipple and he gently nibbles it before he pulls his mouth off with an audible pop.

“What do you think, Si?” Johnny asks, looking over at him. You look over to see Simon press his lips together. “Pretty ain’t she?”

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as he nods, it doesn’t last long though. Johnny pulls you closer to him, planting his lips on yours and pressing his tongue in your mouth while his thumb rubs circles on your nipple still wet from his mouth.

He breaks from the kiss pressing his forehead on yours. “How ‘bout you go show Simon how good you are?” He says, it’s almost a whisper. You nod and he gives you one last quick kiss before you stand up.

Johnny's hand lingers on the small of your back for as long as he can as you step over to stand in front of Simon. He doesn’t look that nervous, you know he is though, the way his lips are pressed together avoiding your eye line. His hands gripping the chair arms. You’re not sure what to do, make sure you don’t freak him out is probably a good start.

“I’m not a virgin.” He says, you clench your jaw feeling awkward. “It’s just been a while, I'm out of practice.”

“How long?” You ask.

You bring his hand up and place it on your breast. “I like having my nipples played with.” You say letting go of his hand, encouraging him to squeeze. You smile at him, you need to keep yourself open and calm.

“Couple of years,” he says, like it's the most embarrassing fact in the world. Now you just feel bad for him, again. You reach down for the hand resting on the chair arm and pick it up. You can see the bulge in his pants, that's good, one less obstacle you need to worry about.

His hands are rougher than Johnny’s, his grip is tighter, you’re not sure if it’s out of nerves or not. If he relaxes it will be easier, you don’t think that's going to be happening any time soon. His thumb brushes over your nipple and you reward it with a hum, trying to make your body relax even more.

His other hand comes up to your other beast and before you know it he has both his thumbs running over your nipples. It feels good, if this were any other situation-or Johnny you might be able to cum just like this.

You feel Johnny step up behind you, his hands land on your waist as he pulls you back against him.

“Wanna see what else she likes?” He asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. Simon looks up at him and nods. Johnny leaves you and Simon drops his hand as you both watch Johnny move the coffee table out the way. When he’s done he goes over to the sofa and pulls the throw down on the floor, sitting down with his back against the sofa.

“Come.” He says gesturing at you, you raise an eyebrow and walk over anyway, he spreads his legs and pats on the floor between them.

“Pants off, back on my chest.” He says, you nod pulling them off. This time you don’t get embarrassed thinking about Simon seeing you. You sit down between his legs and rest up against his back. You look over at Simon who’s face has turned a light red. Maybe this is too much, too fast.

He hasn’t said stop though. Johnny reaches over and pulls your knees up so Simon has a perfect view of you spread out against him. You can feel his own cock pressing against your lower back, his hands run down your thighs eventually pressing on your clit.

You try not to squirm, keeping yourself still. You let out a breath as Johnny moves his fingers round soaking them in your juices before pressing them back on your clit. You moan this time at the new sensation, his fingers pressing little circles with ease.

That’s good though right? You should be looking like you’re enjoying yourself. This is a fun activity not something to be afraid off.

“She likes this too, Si. Wanna feel?” Johnny says then presses a kiss into your neck. You watch as he shifts in the chair, for a second he looks like he doesn’t know what to say. He lets out a sigh and stands up out of the chair, he steps over then kneels down in front of you. He watches for a second as Johnny changes his strokes.

You see Simon swallow before he reaches out. Johnny’s fingers are replaced with his. It’s a whole different sensation. His movements are slower, more unsure but the pressure is there and from having them both play with your nipples your body is slowly building up to that sweet release.

“Put your fingers in her.” Johnny says after a few seconds. Simon looks up at him then quickly to you, you smile and nod at him. He shuffles on his knees again taking his fingers off your clit almost like he’s unsure.

You watch his adam's apple bob then he presses a finger into you. You can’t help moaning, his finger stops, you smile at him and he continues to press it in until he can’t anymore. You feel Johnny’s cock twitch behind you. He’s enjoying this, he moves his fingers back to your clit.

“Feel good love?” Johnny asks in your ear, you nod. “Use your words darlin’ tell him how good you feel.”

“Your finger feels good Simon, you can use more if you want.” You say looking up at him. You think you see the faintest smile creep onto his lips. The next time he pulls his finger out he adds another. The new stretch makes you part your legs further, scooting your position slightly so his fingers rub against your g-spot with each thrust. You moan again, this time tipping your head slightly. You want to come but not until Simon’s ready, you don’t want to scare him.

“See not so scary after all.” Johnny says, you can hear the smile in his voice. You look up at Simon who seems like he’s in a world of his own, maybe that's where he needs to be to get through this. You wonder what happened to him, you didn’t bother asking Johnny. It must have been something horrible.

You let out a moan trying not to clench down on Simon’s fingers, you don’t want to spook him. Johnny hums in your neck, you know he’ll know you’re close, sometimes it feels like he can read your body better than you.

“What to make her cum?” Johnny asks, you almost want to nod and scream yes. Simon looks up again, he hesitates for a second, his fingers stopping in you. He nods and you smile at him.

“Just don’t take your fingers out okay?” Johnny asks, you swallow, you don’t want either of them to take their fingers off you. Simon nods again, his fingers start moving again, he makes sure to press in all the way. He speeds up too, you’re not in control anymore, maybe it’s for the best.

Johnny’s fingers on your clit are relentless, you’re focusing on not spooking Simon or clenching around his fingers until you cum. Johnny hums in your ear and it sends shivers down your spine. He can tell your close cock twitches behind you. You’re not sure if you need to give an audible warning to Simon though.

Your breathing increases as does your moaning, you’re close and you need to make your mind up.

“Johnny.” You call his name, it’s almost like you need to wait for his permission, you’re not sure what to do.

“Yeah baby, come for us.” His voice low in your ear. Christ, that's all the permission you need, you tip your head back and close your eyes moaning as you clench down on Simon’s fingers. He stops moving but you don’t care. Johnny rides you through the orgasm as Simon’s fingers leave you.

“See, not so bad.” You hear Johnny say. You open your eyes as you feel Simon get up to his feet.

“Si?” Johnny asks as he moves to leave the room. You sit up.

“Bathroom.” Is all he says as he leaves the living room.

“Is he okay?” You ask leaning forward between Johnny’s legs. You turn to look at him watching out the door. You both hear the downstairs toilet door close. Johnny looks back over at you and smiles, you can see the concern in his eyes though, he’s not as slick as he thinks he is.

“You did great.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you. You can’t help feeling like you’ve done something wrong though. Maybe it was all too much for him.

“I’ll go check on him.” Johnny says helping you to your feet. You smile at him and nod. Maybe he just needs a second. You feel bad all of a sudden. Johnny leaves and you shiver, the room suddenly feels cold. You’re just standing there naked, you’re not sure if things are going to continue.

You reach over pulling the other throw off the couch and wrap yourself up. At least this way if he wants to keep going you don’t have to go through the hassle of taking all your clothes off. You want to sit down but your curiosity gets the better of you and you head over to the living room door.

You hear the toilet door open. No one says anything, you make sure to keep out of sight of the hall, trying to focus on listening.

You hear Johnny sigh. “You did so well mate.” There’s a sniffle in response, is he crying? Now you really feel bad for eavesdropping.

“Wanna stay the night?” Johnny asks, there’s no response.

“Want a mask?” He asks, you frown, a mask? “Guest room, in the chest of drawers.” You hear movement and step back over to sit on the sofa. You’re still getting comfy as Johnny walks in. He smiles at you and comes over to sit next to you. His arm comes round your shoulders and he pulls you up against him.

“Simon’s going to stay the night.” He says kissing the top of your head. You nod trying to swallow the guilt of eavesdropping on their conversation. Johnny reaches over to pick up the remote and unmute the TV.

“Is he okay?” You ask.

“He’s fine. He just needs a minute.” Johnny says. You nod

“Thank you.” He says. “Really I mean it. You didn’t have to do this.” You look up at him and smile, it makes you feel all warm inside.

“I love you johnny.” You say.

“I love you too.”

---

#call of duty #cod #fanfic #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mctavish x you #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost smut #simon riley x john mactavish #simon riley x reader #simon riley x john mactavish x reader

33 notes · View notes

sibsteria · 16 hours ago

Note

hi! just saw your 2025 rec list and that you write for spencer! i beg for a spence best friends/coworkers to lovers short lil sm sm (oneshot) if you're okay w that! also idk if you have a smosh/spencer series in the works but if you ever write one i can confirm I'll be your biggest fan love your fics can't wait to read more :)

@people-arelovers

Must be love on the brain...

Spencer Agnew x fem!Reader

Masterlist

a/n yes! absolutely, hello, hi, here I am- writing most of this in line for Pitbull tickets, dale (also combining two requests here, and I will absolutely be doing a series at some point fyi!)

Warnings/Content: alcohol, light angst, embarrassment, hinted pining, kissing, not proofread

Summary: A work's night out leads to drunken confessions...

''You don't have to drink to have a good time, y'know?'' Shayne shrugs at Spencer, his decision wary on joining the small group as he wasn't quite feeling up to a rager.

''There's not really a point in going to a bar if I don't drink, I'll just be surrounded by drunk people and feeling left out.'' He chuckles, he probably won't come anyway, his gaming chair is calling his name pretty loudly.

''Y/n is coming.'' Shayne throws it out there, he knew of Spencer's pining feelings towards the girl, a last ditch effort to get him to think about coming.

''Yeah, and I'll be boring and not drinking and- it's stupid.'' He runs a hand through his hair, thinking about you, how much he does in fact, love being around you.

''You know she doesn't care about that stuff?'' Shayne could almost feel himself rolling his eyes at his friend, how stubborn.

''Yeah...'' That's just one reason why he liked you so much, why you were his best friend.

Meanwhile, you were sat at your desk, having a similar conversation.

''I honestly don't think he's going to come.'' You smile, popping a piece of homemade hard candy Garrett had made.

''He might?'' Tommy smirks at you, he knew how you felt about the curly haired man.

''When has he ever, ever, come to a bar with us?'' You giggle at Tommy, shaking your head.

''There's a first time for everything.'' He brings up his hands, one forming an '0' and the other forming an 'I' before he puts them tog-

''Tommy! No!'' You whisper yell, you never know who could be around.

''Oh, come on, you want it. Live a little, Y/n, sweep that little nerd off his feet.'' He raises his eyebrows as if to say 'think about it'.

''Someone as funny and pretty and as cool as him wouldn't even think twice about me, we are just friends.'' You sigh at your own reality, how you wish it wasn't true, but beggars can't be choosers and at least you get to see his face nearly every day.

''You are so stupid.'' He saw the way he looked at you, as if you had hung the stars just for him, why are you always so stubborn? At least you and Spencer have that in common.

''Shut up!'' You squint at him, grumbling before you turn to your computer, time to get some work done before you can go home and shower.

You were sat at your vanity mirror, painstakingly applying some makeup so you look some variation of decent- the bags under your eyes telling a story of fatigue.

Your phone beeps out a message.

Message from: Spimgler

< Hey, sitting this one out, have a great time- miss you! >

Of course, but you couldn't blame him, a night in bed sounds a lot better than unwanted mingling with strangers right now but Tommy would have your head if you didn't come.

You down a glass of wine for your nerves whilst getting ready, you hate getting hit on and it’s not uncommon.

“Told you he wouldn’t come.” You grin at Tommy, you being right once again, although you wish you weren’t- maybe if he was here you wouldn’t feel so out of your depth.

“Yeah, whatever.” Tommy hands you a drink, he had been there a little while before you arrived.

The drunker you let yourself get, the more your mind wouldn’t let up on thoughts of Spencer. The smell of his shampoo as he leans into on one of the couches, the softness of his touch as hugs you when it all gets a bit too much to handle, the teasing smiles he shot at you like bullets when he tries to make you laugh. You get more and more sour as the night progresses, shooting down each potent bomb of liquor and strongly poured drinks.

As expected, just as you had unfortunately lost your group, you were approached by a man. But long gone was the slightly sober discomfort and combative attitude you would have once wore, a drunken mess of social embarrassment lies in its place.

“You know, my friend Spencer is so pretty-“ You hiccup, leaning with your elbow on the bar and cheek in your hand.

“Um, I asked if you wanted to dance with me?” The guy raises an eyebrow at you.

“I want to dance with Spencer! God, I miss him so damn much, I love him…I’m- I love him a lot-“ You frown, sniffling a little, why wasn’t he here right now.

“Okay…” He looks around the room, wondering if you were here all alone.

“Need to see him so bad, can you call Spencer?” You yawn, giggling as you imagine his adorable little voice.

“Not-not really, I don’t know this dude-“ He’s urgently scanning around now, he swore he had seen you with some people- a lanky brunette, a shorter blonde guy, a blonder girl, two dark haired ladies who were screaming at the table together where he first saw you-

“He’s so smart, y’know? So pretty and God, I wish he knew it. He’s funny…too funny for me- I love Spence-“ The man you were currently borderline harassing came into quick thanks as the lanky brunette neared you, clearly recognising you and starts to laugh at your words.

“Okay, okay. C’mon Y/n, stop professing your love for Spencer to strangers.” Tommy mouths a ‘sorry’ at the guy and he just half smiles, awkwardly- it was his choice to approach the plastered girl at the bar, anyways.

“Spencer…” You whine, dragged away by Tommy, your cheeks are flushed and you can’t even walk straight.

“Want me to call him, to come get you?” Although you harboured strong, strong feelings for the man- he knew he was also your best friend and could handle you in this state, and would also drop anything to help you. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to meddle and progress things along- a hope you would possibly spill your guts to him. It was no secret that Spencer returned your feelings, except to you.

“Yes!” You scream in excitement, he walks you outside for some fresh air, you slump down on the pavement. Tommy calls Spencer from your phone, he’s more likely to pause whatever game he is playing to answer your call.

“Y/n, hey, you oka-“ His voice holds a happy tone as he answered.

“It’s Tommy, hey look, could you- stop lying down on the dirty street!” He yelps at you as you don’t feel like sitting upright anymore, “-could you come and pick her up? She’s a bit of a mess and honestly past the point of enjoying herself, just want her home safe.

“Be there in ten.” Is all he says before buttoning the phone down, Tommy sighing in relief- he just didn’t want you to end your hurt- you were actually pretty funny right now all things considered.

“Y/n, honey, he’s on his way.” He sits next to you, placing an arm around your shoulder, comforting you.

“Who?” You look at his completely quizzical.

“Spencer-“

“Spencer’s coming?!” You smile, dreamily, squealing a little, oh yeah, this was going to be a perfect disaster.

It had been just under ten minutes as he pulls up a metre or so away from the two of them, getting out of his car and heading straight for his best friend.

“Thank you, thank you! She needs a whole lotta’ rest.” Tommy stands up and tried to bring you up with him but you whine out, not wanting to move just yet. “I am so sorry for what you may be about to go through.” Although he’s smiling, indicating he is not sorry at all.

“Have a good night.” Spencer nods curtly, locking his car just in case before sitting next to you.

“When is Spencer getting here?” You mumble into your arms, head in your knees.

“Peekaboo.” An airy tone to his voice as your head shoots up.

“Oh- Spence!” You shriek, wrapping your arms around him tightly, though you had done it many times before- he still couldn’t help his heart as it beat a little faster.

“H-hey, beautiful, you doing okay?” You giggle as he talks to you, beautiful, he says.

“You’re the beautiful one, stupid.” You lay your head on his shoulder

“Oh, yeah?” He’s caught a little off guard.

“Mhm, pretty, pretty…” You sigh as you nuzzle into him, jesus, how much did you drink.

“I’m pretty to you?” He automatically goes for the teasing avenue, combatting how he feels with a joke.

“Obviously, I wouldn’t be in love with you if you weren’t.” You scoff as if it’s common knowledge, his mouth gapes open, he’s…what?

“What?” He repeats his thoughts.

“What?” You yawn, still happy as a baby on his shoulder.

“You just said- you’re in love with me?” He asks it as a question, you probably just mean a friendly ‘I love you’.

“Yeah…but you don’t like me back though, so it’s silly of me. You’re just so pretty and amazing and- I’ve loved you since I first met you…” You look as if you’re falling asleep, Spencer’s head is a flurry full of confusion- he feels like he should be hyperventilating right now.

“I…” This was definitely a talk for sober Y/n, no matter how much he wanted to tell her he loved her right now.

“It’s okay…I’m used to it.” It’s like you can’t quite recognise this is reality and not a nightly dream of yours.

“I’ll drive you home? Or-“

“Can we have a sleep over?” You blink up at him, wondering why you are seeing three Spencers.

“Sure…” He bites his lip, you were extremely cute like this, usually you would be so stubborn and nonchalant and cool.

The drive back is surprisingly uneventful, you practically passed out in the passenger seat, head against the window after he had told you you cant hug him whilst he drives.

“Your car smells good…smells like you.” You smiled at nothing, a patter of rain beginning to hits the windows, lulling you into serenity. Jesus, you can’t keep saying that shit whilst he’s driving, now all he wants to do is look at you and listen to the adoring words. Was how he smelled comforting to you?

He had managed to get you through his front door easier than expected, you were willing to follow his every word.

He gave you some privacy as you haphazardly dressed yourself up in a backup pair of pyjamas you had left at his house, he hears a few bangs and nearly opens the door to check on you but ultimately decides maybe that’s not the best idea- he wants to respect your privacy as always.

“Spence!” You shout, laying on his bed already, you were so ready to sleep.

“You ready to go to sleep? You got a brutal hangover waiting for you tomorrow.” He grins at you as your pout into the air.

“Ugh.”

“I’ll let you settle down.” He whispers, attempting to walk away. You slept in the same bed more than once before, whenever you had slept over but…he just knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep next to you tonight- repeating what you had said to him over and over again, overthinking and-

“Can you stay a little? ‘Till I fall asleep?” How can he say no as your sweet, tired voice tweets up at him.

“Till you fall asleep.” He confirms, his heard stammering as he moves to sit next to you, back against the headboard as you lay, you inch towards him touching his arm with you nose and he wants to explode. He can feel the air you breathe through your nose, hitting his arm as you slowly fell into slumber, a subtle smile on your face.

What was going to happen tomorrow?

Your head throbs as you stir, already feeling the nausea set in, your tongue sticking to your mouth due to how dehydrated you were. You smell something that you recognise, something that’s not your house…oh, fuck.

Memories from last night violently hammer at your head, or was that just the hangover? You fucked up so hard, you told him you love him? What were you thinking, clearly you weren’t at all.

Your eyes blink open, his bedside table catching your attention. There stood a big glass of water, some painkillers and…a note?

Good morning,

If you are reading this, take these pills before you leave the room, I can hear your headache from here.

-S

Was he going to be angry? Upset? Uncomfortable? Oh, god, you have ruined your whole relationship with him.

You do as he had said, slamming the pain relief in your mouth before washing the pills down with two thirds of the glass.

Maybe you could sneak out, facing your bad, bad drunk decisions seemed like a nightmare.

You creep to the pile of your stuff in the corner of the room, slowly changing into your clothes, not putting your shoes on yet just in case.

You pry open the door, peeking at the space outside, no sign of Spencer.

You quietly move towards the front door, you had gotten away with it- a loud creak sounds from a floorboard beneath you- nearly, you had nearly gotten away with it?

“Y/n?” He follows the sound to its source. “Are you…leaving?” He can’t blame you for wanting to.

“Um, sorry. It’s just-“

“Yeah, I know, you didn’t mean it- it’s okay.” Forever the respectful man he was, he never lashes out, never got angry- he just…pretended he was okay.

“Mean what?” You want to know what he thought, if you had embarrassed yourself as much as you thought.

“Look, last night, you were drunk and it’s fine- you were just being the best friend you are- you don’t need to feel sorry about it.”

“Spence….” You put down your shoes and your bag.

“You said you were in love with me, but you didn’t mean it like that, it’s okay.” The look in his eyes told you he was not okay, was he…upset?

“I-“

“Just- I’ll drive you home, okay?” He half smiles, trying to look normal, the room goes silent as you decide it’s all or nothing.

“I meant it…by the way.” You hold your breath, if you had read the situation wrong you basically just doubled down on the burning crash that was your friendship.

“You- what?” He stops putting his shoes on, looking up at you.

“I…I am, in love with you…” Your chest heaves a little faster as the tension in the room was becoming too much.

“You…are?” Shit, you had misread it.

“Okay, no, it’s fine- just drive me home, forget what I said-“

“I love you. Too, I love you too.” He can’t meet your eyes yet, everything was up in the air, a pressure on your chest.

“No, I- I love you. Like, I want to be the person you see every morning, the person you wake up to. I am so in love with you it hurts, you are gorgeous and smart and funny and-“

“Stop.” Your breath hitches, was this it now?

“Y/n…I think you are the most beautiful person I have ever had the chance to know, to be best friends with and to…fall in love with. You are the first thought I have in the morning and the last one I have before I fall asleep. All I do is think of you, what is she doing? Is she happy? I bet she looks pretty right now, like all the time. Since you spilled coffee all over Damien on your first day- both of your awkward apologies and the both of you being too kind to be angry at the situation. You…I need you.” He’s standing in front of you now, looking down at you with those deep-set eyes, it was also a perk you him that you were shorter than him- a rarity. You can’t speak as you relay everything he said, all you want to do is kiss him, and he is thinking the same.

You tentatively step closer, his head leans down, aching slow and unsure, your hands come up to cup his cheek and steady yourself on his shoulder as you lean up. Your lips meet and it’s one of the sweetest things you’ve tasted, that could just be the Kickstart, but he kisses you with such care and emotion- you have never been kissed like this. Or maybe you have but it’s never felt like this- like it was meant to happen, like you were made for him. His hands delicately find their home resting on your hips, your mouths moving together- kissing him deeper.

Neither of you seem to want to stop but eventually it gets difficult to breath through just your noses.

“So…”

He smiles at you, he had a feeling his life was just about to become beautiful.

a/n update! guess who won the ticketmaster war is seeing pitbull ft shaggy in concert? me, dale xo

#smosh spencer fanfiction #smosh spencer x reader #spencer agnew imagines #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew #smosh #smosh spencer imagine #smosh x reader #smosh fanfiction #spencer agnew imagine #spencer agnew fanfiction

27 notes · View notes

albinogel · 3 months ago

Text

#i love the idea of them being happy #It's sad that everything happened the way it did because of a stupid set of circumstances #anyway.. is it just me or do they really have that little content?#albinogel art #arcane #silco #vander #zaundads #vanco

9K notes · View notes

shroomerr · 2 months ago

Text

HAPPY NEW YEAR !!! here's some of my fave/most popular art I did in 2024 <3

#shroomer talks !#the last one is blurred because its spoilers #i wanted to finish it so badly before the end of the year but alas... i have a job #hopefully will be able to finish it tomorrow or the day after #anyways!! what a good run this year has been!!#its so funny most of these pieces were done in the last few months lol i did not like any of my drawings or even had any finished pre-augus #and then boom. south park happened.#and suddenly i was rejuvenated. like a fish in water #if ill be honest with you guys ive had some of the worst art block for last few years/been so incredibly unsatisfied with my art #and its only been since august where ive finally started becoming a bit more ok with the work ive produced #i dont necessarily think ive made anything that could be a magnum opus or whatever. i dont even think i can really go:#“yea. i did that. hell yea. this is amazing”#its more like a “yea. im starting to see growth. im going somewhere. i think.”#but thats way better than what it was before where i just straight up hated my art lol #i still kinda do hate it though but its starting to be less #or at the very least its in a more positive direction where im thinking “ok i hate it but im gonna try and learn from this”#anyways thanks all of you for sticking around with little old me <3 #MORE SOUTH PARK CONTENT TO COME IN 2025!!#youre not getting rid of me that easily #south park #splatoon

34 notes · View notes

whetstonefires · 26 days ago

Note

#4 please !

Now see this could be tricky, because generally if I don't get some key elements written down very quickly the idea flows away again and the 'yet' disappears, even if I remember generally what it was about, but I have one this time! I am still just enough plagued by this vision that it's not out of the question I'll go for the capture, but so far nada.

Idea was basically a Jiang family character study by way of modern au. (So tw canonical abuse.) I started from the reflection, in a modern au very high chance the Jiangs are divorced, because being a divorcee wouldn't necessarily ruin Yu Ziyuan in the modern world, as long as she was allowed to control the narrative enough that she didn’t look at fault, so it might be on the table.

Especially because modern views on child abuse are such that while she'd hold back more than she already does in terms of physical chastisement, Jiang Fengmian would also be under less societal pressure to not interfere in her disciplinary system too much, and both these factors mean he’s more likely to put his foot down.

So, concept: Jiang Fengmian, when his son is eight and his daughter thirteen, forces the issue of taking in his best friends' abused orphan child whom he’s just managed to track down in a nightmarish group home, probably leveraging the fact that wherever their money comes from it's mostly his, something he usually doesn't do, but she has always known he could, and been fucked up about it (reasonable) and hated him a little (less so) and hates him so much more now (understandable but still fucked up).

They were obviously still both pressured into this marriage by their families, because I literally cannot imagine them choosing one another of their own free will, and if they did that would be an au in an even more dramatic way than being modern, and no longer work as a character or relationship study as far as I'm concerned. I mean or it’s a cql-based au, but that’s not the version of this toxic marriage I find compelling.

Situation subsequently deteriorates to the point that when the boys are around twelve some outside party observes and is repulsed or otherwise upset by Yu Ziyuan's treatment of Wei Wuxian specifically--she's emotionally abusive to everyone in the family, canonically, and it harms Jiang Cheng significantly more than Wei Wuxian, which I think is also pretty explicit on the page, but she's more openly antagonistic about going after wwx because he's basically a proxy for her husband, whom she doesn't consider to be someone she's capable of harming.

And ofc in a modern family scenario, being abusive to your foster kid is more plainly personal misconduct than being unfair in how you discipline one of your husband's many students, even if it is his favorite. Which means she's very unlikely to chase him around with a whip, but whatever she does do will sting that much more emotionally.

Anyway the outside judgement provokes a more explicit confrontation than the last four years of maneuver and attempting to balance all the competing needs according to two very different standards. And the upshot is that by the time wwx is 13, the Jiangs are divorced. To avoid making a humiliating spectacle of themselves they present a weirdly united front in court and have a very smooth uncontested proceding, although the closed meetings with their respective lawyers involved a lot of vitriol.

Yu Ziyuan, despite having a smallish trust fund and probably a job of some kind, though one that's more prestigious than profitable like uh. Olympic fencing coach. Idk what they make but it's probably not enormous. She and Cangse Sanren probably competed in the same events back in the day.

Anyway she gets a solid chunk of alimony, the house, and primary custody of both her children, although Jiang Yanli is almost 18 at this point so mostly she just gets Jiang Cheng. Everyone thinks Jiang Cheng wants it that way, including sort of Jiang Cheng; he has this idea that if he has his mom to himself they'll finally have a good relationship, even though he's also terrified of being left all alone with her. He's complicated. Families are complicated.

Also she would never have forgiven him if he hadn't concurred that he wanted to stay with his mother because she was the only one On His Side.

Jiang Yanli ofc does not move out right away when she comes of age, in part because her brother needs her, but she probably does go to college, so she's only around part-time.

Jiang Fengmian, meanwhile, keeps most of his financial assets and Wei Wuxian, and gets his kids on the weekends.

So that's all setup for how you have this situation where Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng are entering high school--probably the same school, together, but no longer sharing the commute except maybe Monday mornings--and Wei Wuxian's primary residence is Jiang Cheng's dad's apartment.

It’s really chill. They get a cleaning service in once a week and eat a lot of delivery food, but they do cook at least once a week. The canonical thing where they largely agree about what’s funny and what’s right-or-wrong, and so forth, on the one hand really pops when there’s mostly no external conflict disrupting it, but also probably gains more complexity now that it’s not a thread of positivity fighting for its life against a background of drama. They get to know each other better than they ever had a chance to in canon.

Some of that isn't all that positive, because now they have the space to discover the places where they do actually have the capacity for friction, but both of them are very good at dispersing tension (I do tend to suspect jfm's dad was abusive he sure acts like it), and on the whole it's a good thing.

Jiang Cheng is going to have such a mental health crisis, and Jiang Fengmian is going to handle it so badly. Because of course when his son starts replicating his ex-wife's toxic attitudes and behaviors more now that she has primary custody, he’s going to feel guilty and like it’s His Fault, but he’s going to feel like it’s his fault that Jiang Cheng is growing up to be a shitty abusive person.

And even if he’d never say that the subtext would come through, in the assumptions he made when framing communications and so forth, as in canon, so the thing where Jiang Cheng’s father loves Wei Wuxian more than him, or at any rate likes him better and thinks he’s a better person and prefers his company, would wind up feeding into a self-reinforcing loop.

(Jin Zixuan's nasty public remark about Jiang Fengmian treating Wei Wuxian better than his own children hits Jiang Cheng significantly harder in this scenario, where he's being Tormented by the feeling that all his peers know his dad walked out on him for another son. Wei Wuxian's punch is therefore even more clearly primarily for Jiang Cheng's sake, although Jiang Cheng is probably more inclined to see it as being for his dad's. Jin Zixuan is about halfway between the Jiang kids' ages here, so he's a senior saying this shit to a sophomore.)

So that cycle builds to the point where Jiang Cheng would eventually have one of those rare moments where he resorts to actual violence, because his poisoned feelings are choking him so bad his rationality deserts him.

He’s not going to be nearly as close to actually murdering Wei Wuxian as he was in canon the night the Jiang Sect was massacred, because it’s a less extreme situation, but he still goes for the neck. So Jiang Fengmian is in his home office one Saturday about a year and a half into this new normal, and realizes the boys are fighting. He hears through the wall the accusation you stole my dad. He says to himself, well that’s terrible but interjecting myself into this situation would definitely make it worse.

Then he hears sounds of violence, and then an ominous abrupt silence, and updates that analysis.

And when he opens the door to the boys’ room, Wei Wuxian is being strangled. He’s not really resisting, which is because he’s made the call that that’s way more likely to get Jiang Cheng to snap out of it, and thinks it might make Jiang Cheng feel better to get it out of his system (because he does sort of feel like what Jiang Cheng is going through is all his fault, or at any rate is much worse as a result of decisions made for his sake) and is severely underestimating the dangers of choking, but looks to a third party like he’s already passed out and Jiang Cheng is still at it. Which is to say, it looks like a serious murder attempt on the brink of success.

So that sure made that situation worse!

So yeah that's my idea that I probably won't write but it sure has its teeth in me.

#answers #snarglepop-content #ask #ask game #mdzs #meta #modern au #family drama #character study #i'm really sorry to the person who sent me that madam yu ask i worked on it for SO long but i CANNOT find it in my drafts #i'm hoping i posted it and forgot????#anyway this fic is drawn from conclusions i reached trying to articulate for that ask my thoughts on modern yu ziyuan #and how hard she is to work #because yzy's characterization is pretty exquisitely responsive to her context #in such a way that if you change the context she will either behave differently or become ooc #so she's a major failure point in modern aus because she tends to have her characterization adjusted to fit the needs of the story #its desired beats or themes or whump quota #and if you do this carelessly then either wwx and jc also become ooc #or the story ceases to have consistent internal logic #mdzs is a pretty well-balanced machine!#despite how many elements come across sort of slapdash because mxtx literally did not care about that part #i.e. scale or logistics or history-as-such rather than just some of its societal features #but she didn't care *intentionally* so it's generally insulated from undermining the important beats which is such a good trick ak;kjlsdf #ANYWAY #i'm overly invested in how hard it is to depict this family as shown in the novel #because there's so little information and it's so tempting to disregard some of it to get a simpler narrative #so easy to take madam yu's word about things because she's the only one talking #so easy to punch up the melodrama in the wrong spots or iron out the actual ugly bits #to get something easier to grasp at but less realistic #concept up for adoption if anyone wants btw

23 notes · View notes