#just know if i disappear then the ghosts got me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

princessfanonanona · 2 days ago

Text

Touring Babel - An Infinite Realms Remix Fic

Mr. Lancer planned for a simple field trip to the museum. He wasn't expecting to find himself and the entire class in the ghost zone, looking up at a mythological architectural landmark. He really should just accept the ghostly interference.

The class wanders in a loose cluster after Mr. Lancer on their way towards the museum through the parking lot.

“Excuse me, Mr. Lancer?” Danny raises his hand, shifting from foot to foot.

Mr. Lancer sighs the sigh of the aggrieved. He stops walking ahead of the group, turning to look at Danny.

“Yes, Mr. Fenton?” he asks.

“I know we just got off the bus, but I think we should go back.”

“And why is that?”

“That’s not a museum,” he points to the marble building ahead of them.

“Of course it’s the museum,” Mr. Lancer can’t help but scoff. “I think I would recognize…”

He trails off when he turns to look up at the towering structure. “That’s not a museum.”

The round tower of marble stretches higher than any skyscraper, tapering upwards until the top disappears into the clouds above.

The class gape upwards before looking around.

The once clear blue sky has been replaced with green. Purple clouds gather around the tower, drifting by lazily. The parking lot, once filled with other cars, is now nothing but a sparse field with scattered clumps of weeds and wildflowers. The bus they had just disembarked from has become a pile of stones.

“Paradise Lost!” Mr. Lancer declares quietly. “Where are we?”

“Too late,” Danny sighs.

“Danny?” Tucker sidles up, still staring up at the tower. “What in the actual fuck.”

“Transient portal? Maybe?” he shrugs. He glances around his class, “the real question is how do we get back?”

“Fentina, is this your loser parents’ fault?” Dash practically shouts from the other side of the group.

“They haven’t built anything new, so no,” a shiver goes down his spine making him gasp. He frowns, turning to glare at the empty field beside them, “but now I think I do know what started this.”

“Hello, Daniel and company,” Clockwork greets, fading into view, looking older than usual.

Danny throws his hands up in a WTF way at the ghost.

“Welcome to the Tower of Babel, please, enjoy your visit,” they offer an enigmatic smile before disappearing into the mists.

The class erupts into confusion and panic.

“Now, now,” Mr. Lancer declares loudly, “let’s all calm down.”

“Calm down?” Kwan cries in dismay, “we’ve been kidnapped by a ghost!”

Dash pushes through the crowd to grab Danny by his shirt front, “this is your fault, get us home!”

“Enough!” Mr. Lancer shouts, making his way to the boys to separate them. “There is no blaming anyone! We are going to calmly evaluate the situation-”

“That creepy ghost knew Danny,” Star says, “how else would we end up here if they didn’t know him?”

“Hey, sorry, can we get back to the fact that we’re at the Tower of Babel?” Sam asks, stepping forward. “You know, the ancient city where all of humanity was once unified in language and culture?”

Mr. Lancer frowns, “that would be relevant if it were true, but I would hardly believe the words of an apparition.”

Sam looks to Danny, gesturing towards the building.

Danny makes a face at her before turning to Tucker.

Tucker shakes his head, holding his hands up to make an X with them and takes a small step backwards.

Danny looks back at Sam and holds his palms up.

Sam gestures at the tower again.

“My prophetic bladder says it is the Tower of Babel,” he says.

Mr. Lancer gapes at him.

“Would you prefer if it was the Hanging Garden of Babylon?” Danny asks.

“I would prefer if we were at the Natural History Museum,” Mr. Lancer says.

“Hey guys!” Mikey calls from the top of the steps near the arching doorway. “They have a tour guide ready for us!”

Danny exchanges a glance with Tucker before jogging across the distance.

“Wait!” Mr. Lancer calls after him, “you need to stay with the group!”

“Oh, Sinilis!” Danny greets, spotting the green ghost, “I thought you were at the Library?”

“Hello, sir,” the scholarly ghost bows his head in greeting, “I have been assigned to guide you and your companions today.”

“You know him?” Mikey asks, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Uh…” Danny blanches, he glances back at the class who have moved closer. “Sorta.”

“You know its name.”

“His name,” Sam says. “He’s not an it.”

“How do you know him, then?”

“He has a name tag,” Danny says.

Sinilis taps his chest under the pin that spells out his name and preferred pronouns in Hittite.

“That’s not even- holy shit I can read that!” Mikey exclaims. “How can I read that?”

“That would be the power of Bāb-ilim, wherein the separation of cultures have been erased,” Sinilis explains. “Will the rest of your group be joining us then?”

“I think it would be more informative than the museum,” Sam says.

“Will you please stop running off on your own, we need to stay together,” Mr. Lancer says, making his way up the steps. The rest of the class hovers at the bottom. “Oh wonderful, another ghost.”

“Hello sir,” Sinilis bows his head in greeting, “my name is Sinilis, a scholar of the Great Library of Alexandria and have been assigned to be your guide through the City of Bāb-ilim today.”

“That’s great, but we really should be on our way-” he freezes, the previous statement finally processing. “The what library?”

“The Great Library of Alexandria,” Sinilis repeats. “If I recall, that will be your next group trip should today’s tour prove successful.”

Mr. Lancer falters. Dash, who had snuck up behind them, catches him from falling as his foot slips on the step.

“Whoa!”

Danny jumps forward, grabbing Mr. Lancer’s arm to pull him back onto the landing.

“Are you alright, sir?” Sinilis asks, hovering slightly, hands outstretched to help but not touching. “I do apologize for whatever fright I have caused.”

“No no,” Mr. Lancer shakes his head, stepping carefully away from the steps. “You just- run that by me again?”

Sinilis floats back to stand where he previously stood in the entranceway. He pulls out a scroll from the sleeve of his robe. Unfurling it, he reads it aloud.

“For the continued education of the Heir Apparent and entourage candidates, tours of cultural and historical significance have been scheduled at the following locations: the City of Bāb-ilim, also referred to as the Tower of Babel, the Great Library of Alexandria, the City of Pompeii, the City of Mycenae, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, Zapotes-”

“The city of the Olmecs?” Mr. Lancer interrupts. “And several other ancient wonders? They exist?”

“They actually refer to themselves as Tamoanchan,” Sinilis clarifies. “But yes, they do exist here, as anything that once was and subsequently ceased to exist in the Lands of Life will be reborn here in the Infinite Realms.”

“I think I need to sit down,” Mr. Lancer says, rubbing his temples.

At this point, most of the class has moved closer to the top of the steps.

“I would offer you a drink, but all I have is pomegranate juice,” Sinilis offers.

“That wouldn’t be very helpful,” Sam says. Tucker barks a laugh, turning to cover his face.

“Does that mean we’re going to tour the tower?” Mikey asks.

“I want to know what that heir apparent means,” Paulina asks. “Who is it?”

Sinilis very pointedly does not look at the trio.

“I’m with Paulina,” Valerie says, crossing her arms. “We got kidnapped by ghosts for some supposed ghost heir and named us the entourage? I think we deserve to know.”

“I think it’s Danny,” Mikey says.

“What could Fentonail-”

“Mr. Baxter.” Mr. Lancer chides.

“-do to be this ghost whatever?”

“Well, he was named by the first ghost and he knows who this ghost was before an introduction.”

“So?” Sam asks. “I think we should just accept the absolutely impossible chance of getting guided tours through ancient myths. Do you not realize the actual historical impact that is right there?”

“I mean, Clockwork did say it would just be a visit, which means we would be returned home without a problem,” Tucker offers.

“Who’s Clockwork?” Dash asks at the same time that Valerie demands “Why do you know its name?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Mr. Lancer holds his hands out to quiet down the class. “Mister uh…”

“Sinilis,” the ghost offers with a tight smile.

“Sinilis,” he continues, with a small nod of thanks, “what is the process for us to return home?

“Why, there’s a portal for your return being prepared on the other side of the city,” the ghost gestures towards the arch.

“But-!” Valerie protests.

“And can you ensure that the class will be safe and unharmed during this tour?”

“Certainly, sir! I swear it upon my core that no harm shall befall the class.”

“I don’t trust you, and I refuse to enter that ghost infested-”

“Stop being rude,” Sam interrupts her. She turns to Sinilis, “is there a way for anyone who doesn’t want to participate to go home now?”

He glances at Danny but doesn’t answer.

“So we’re trapped here?” Valerie says, aghast.

Tucker nudges Danny with his elbow who rolls his eyes back.

“Val,” Danny steps towards her, hands up in a placating manner. “Look we’re here so we might as well do what they ask. When in Rome and all that-”

“But they’re ghosts!” She practically shouts, “you can’t ever-”

“You trust Dani.”

She freezes.

“But she’s-”

“Half, I know, but do you really think that the other half is as bad?”

She doesn’t answer.

Danny takes her hands, “besides, have you ever met a violent librarian?”

She huffs a laugh out of surprise, “no, but there’s a first time for everything.”

“If I may,” Sinilis floats closer, “the sooner we begin the tour, the sooner all of you may return home.”

“Fine, no funny business.”

“Of course,” he bows his head and floats back, glancing at Danny before turning to Mr. Lancer. “Are we all set then?”

Mr. Lancer looks over his class before taking a deep breath. “Well, this will certainly be far more informative than a museum trip.”

#danny phantom #infinite realms #infinite realms remix #dp events #phandom event #nona writes

93 notes · View notes

stellewriites · 1 day ago

Text

Part Four - John Price x reader

Masterlist

Summary: When John gets an unexpected invite to his ex-wife's wedding, he scrambles to find a suitable date to take with him to ward off old ghosts from his past.

Notes: trans John, fat reader, angst

The pair of you stayed quiet in the taxi and then on the short walk to your hotel room. John broke the silence finally when the door closed behind you and you were faced with the double bed and your bags, presumably dealt with by John’s family earlier in the evening when they found out you’d not had chance to stop at the hotel beforehand. You’d wondered where Richard had disappeared to for half the evening.

“Thank you,” John said heartfelt, ducking his chin to meet your eyes. “For coming here, being there for me and—“

“And for not being a raging bigot?” You blurted out, biting your cheek immediately after. You looked up at John’s shocked silence and backtracked. “I’m sorry, that was blunt and- <em>rude</em>. I got pulled aside, figured it out from what they were saying.” You winced, and rubbed at your forehead when a headache made itself known.

“Where they saying anything good?” John asked calmly, jokingly even.

You sighed. “Honestly I think I should be commended for my patience with them but then you’d need about a hundred more accolades than me, I’d assume,” you said tiredly.

“It’s just small town bullshit. Used to bother me, but I’ve found people since that don’t care.”

“Mm. And just one more day of it, at least?” You asked rhetorically.

“Made all the more easy with you here,” he soothed.

You smiled thinly, his words causing an ache, before heaving a heavy sigh and rubbing at your tense shoulders and neck. “I’m tired, I need some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, ‘course.” He nodded and moved to give you space to reach for your bag. He left you to it in the bathroom and once the door was closed you let your face crumple just a little and your shoulders sag. What a mess, and he likely thought you were mad at him now for not telling you about it, leaving you in the dark with his family when that wasn’t the case at all.

You opened the door again and caught him with his shirt halfway unbuttoned.

“S-sorry,” you stuttered as he continued to get undressed. “Uhm, I just wanted to say that I understand why you didn’t tell me, when we first met. I mean given how everyone was there and you didn’t know me, not that you seem worried that I was upset about it, but I’m not. Just to confirm.”

Christ, dig yourself deeper.

John huffed a soft laugh and nodded. “Good to know, Sunshine.”

You nodded and closed the door again, leaving him to continue getting changed while you did the same, washing your face clean and brushing your teeth and feeling ten times lighter.

The ache you felt when you saw him with Charlotte hadn’t gone away, but you could put that on the back burner.

When you stepped back through, a little more hesitantly this time in case he was slow to change, you smiled when you saw he’d purposely left his sleep shirt off. His surgery scars were hardly visible beneath his dark chest hair and he’d clearly taken care of them to ease the healing and provide as much stretch in the skin and across his chest for movement.

You stayed quiet however and didn’t draw attention to his decision; instead you smiled at him a little less forced and joined him in bed.

“You better not snore,” you warned as you turned onto your side away from him, snuggling down into the blankets. You wanted him to know nothing had changed since you’d found out, but you needed to get a hold of your feelings now before you got hurt even worse. The last thing you wanted was to act cold to him, but if you saw his tired eyes crinkle in a fond smile from across a shared pillow you might do something drastic like confess your feelings or suck his cock ‘til your jaw went numb.

You clenched your thighs and shuffled to get comfortable as you felt the mattress dip behind you. It was time to sleep, not time to think about your kiss and the rumbling moan he’d let slip, mouth to mouth with a direct line to your—

“Good night!” You said overly chirpily before yanking the covers up to your hot cheeks, not daring to look over your shoulder.

“G’night, Sunshine,” you heard him say quietly before he switched off the lamp on the bedside table.

——

The celebrations were continued the next day of course. Though this time it was for their closest friends and family only, John had assured you when you’d asked if the crowd was going to be as big as it had been the night before.

Charlotte’s family had wanted to give the couple one last send off before their honeymoon, which came in the form of a garden party in the afternoon.

“Need to give the guests enough time to recover from their hangovers, save face,” John had joked.

“It’ll be hair of the dog, more like,” you’d snorted.

You and John had woken up early enough to spend the free morning together, deciding to grab breakfast nearby before heading into the viper’s nest again.

You spent the time waiting for your orders to arrive convincing yourself you could get over John once you were back home and able to gain a bit of space – and maybe a distraction. You just needed to get it together, to not fuck up the great friendship you’d made with John over the next twelve hours. Easy.

Never mind the few minutes you’d spent in the middle of the night looking over at his side of the bed, tracing the outline of his shoulders in the dark with your eyes. You’d yearned to reach out and touch, to huddle close for warmth and comfort and to breathe in a lungful of his scent, but you’d refrained. You’d jumped out of bed in the morning when you heard the shower going and took the chance to breathe while you were alone.

You’d waited your turn to tidy up and get ready, saying a quiet hello when you passed each other and doing your best to act like you weren’t gagging for his touch. It was the least you could to to calm yourself in the cold shower until you were able to make eye contact and hold his hand to the nearby café without sweating.

John however was struggling not to do something stupid while sat opposite you across the little café table, his eyes glued to your form, exactly where they’d been glued since you’d first stepped out in your cute sundress.

“Figured there was no point in bringing extra clothes just so I could get changed after brekkie, so I put it on now,” you’d said that morning. “Might’ve gotten away with keeping my pyjamas on if we were eating at the hotel but I wouldn’t want to give your old neighbours anything else to gossip about if they saw us.”

You’d winked playfully and John had swallowed his tongue, nodding like a bobblehead when the words stayed stuck.

And now, with your elbows leant on the table as you tapped away on your phone with both hands, your arms pushed at either side of your chest and made John’s life harder as your cleavagee became so distracting that he’d burnt his tongue and choked on his coffee, twice. He’d managed to swallow back his hiss of pain but felt his cheeks flush red when he realised how ridiculous he was acting.

He was grateful that you’d not noticed his staring and even more so when the waiter brought over your orders with a knowing smirk, grateful to have food to concentrate on and for you to have a reason to move your arms and give your tits a rest from driving him crazy.

Breakfast together was otherwise uneventful, conversation easy as always, and once you’d finished your own strong coffee, the pair of you made you way over to Charlotte and Tom’s new home for their ‘intimate garden party’.

Again you wondered why the pair of you had managed to get invited, but the image of John and Charlotte laughing in the low light the evening before answered that question for you. Whether she was still interested like John or not, it was clear their history together meant something to Charlotte and would continue to do so.

With your mood already on edge, it didn’t take much from the other guests to set you off, though with considerably less alcohol served at brunch, both they and you were more subtle with the intrusive questions and returned biting answers.

“Look at you John, doing well since it all went downhill with Charlotte then? Found someone else that likes you for… you?” An old classmate asked as she leant into her husbands snickering side.

“What’s not to like?” You asked bluntly, staring her down until she cleared her throat and looked awkwardly to her partner. “Oh, I see. Jealous some of us didn’t have to settle,” you hummed knowingly as you looked her partner up and down. You’d have felt bad any other day, not one to judge quickly, but it turned out John was a sore spot for your usually light temper and your patience wore thin at his expense. Ignoring her offended scoff, you visibly brightened as trays of food began to be set out on a nearby table. “Oh John, look. They finally brought out the snacks.”

“What are we waiting for then?” He encouraged with a teasing nudge and the pair of you walked away from his old classmate without a further word.

You continued your sarcastic and caustic approach to the other guests for the next hour, only easing up politely if John didn’t immediately stiffen at the sight or sound of them.

Maybe John wasn’t yours, but you still felt a duty to be protective of him, as a friend and his current fake girlfriend. No one else seemed to step in when given the chance, and your role meant you could be as catty as you wanted without raising suspicion. So you took advantage and let out your frustration.

John couldn’t have complained, happy enough to watch you; the sharp smile you sent to the prying guests so different to the soft one you’d share with him a moment later. He was happy to see someone stand up for him without fail and brag about him as if the last six years hadn’t been a complete waste.

Even if you’d gotten a little creative with your bragging as the party went on.

“We were visiting Scarborough for the day,” you said to his aunt and two other older ladies that had been sucked in to your stories. You’d started lying halfway through the gathering just to see if anyone would call you out, to see just how far you could go that they’d still believe you. It had been tricky keeping his face straight as he listened but you were clearly having fun with it, so he wasn’t going to stop you, especially when it painted him in a flattering light. Most of the time. “We were walking along the cliff edge when we heard a shout from up ahead, and John being John had to go investigate.”

The ladies cooed.

“Someone had fallen over the wall trying to take a photo of the dolphins,” you said dramatically, wide eyed and pausing to let your small audience gasp. “John didn’t even hesitate to jump in himself to help. Think he shaved ten years off of my life that day,” you said and lightly slapped his chest with the back of your hand.

“Couldn’t let the bloke drown,” John said humbly.

“The pair of you were left bobbing in the bloody water until they could fish you out!” You laughed, only encouraged when his aunt laughed along. John shook his head at you with a hidden smile, this one teasing him more than anything. “You were freezing by time they got you back on land.”

“What were you thinking?” His aunt asked with worry.

“Didn’t have time to think of how I was getting back up, did I?” He asked you with a fake pout.

You squeezed his cheeks and cooed. “You were a hero in my eyes, resemblance to a wet cat or not,” you snickered.

John felt his chest ache with the idea of having this with you all the time; not just for his family and Charlotte’s benefit, not just for a long weekend.

Christ, when he thought back to how much he’d been enjoying his time away from work this last month with you, how easy it was to push the important things aside for you, to prioritise the fun stuff or just the simple domestic things that made your life a little easier… He felt a pang of guilt that he wasn’t able to do that sooner for Charlotte, not because he wanted it with her, but because he’d put her through years or waiting for it to never come. It wasn’t her, and it wasn’t anything you’d done either.

It was simply that he’d finally been able to do it, years too late and yet just in time.

And thinking of Charlotte moving on with Tom, finally getting what she deserved; the attention, the love, and the possible family. None of that brought hurt with it like it would have when he first received the invitation. It didn’t bring jealousy or seething regret, just happiness for his ex-wife and her new life. A life he’d have never fitted into.

But this one you were making, fabricating? He could gladly settle in and make home there. You made things easy in a way he couldn’t fathom.

But telling you this seemed impossible.

How could he tell you he was no longer mourning his past life, instead looking towards a brighter future now that he’d come to terms with how he and Charlotte weren’t meant to be. Seeing her face to face had been the splash of ice cold water needed for him to see clearly. And maybe you and him weren’t meant to be either, but god did he just want to try for the first time in years.

He swallowed thickly as you brought your story to an end, rubbing his arm and looking at him too adoringly, it felt undeserved.

“I’m not the one that saved that baby rabbit though, am I?” he said, starting his own story. Though this one was real, and something you’d mentioned to him once in passing, something he knew you’d never have expected him to remember. “Found it in your garden injured so you nursed it back to health for a week, took time off work to do it even, and then let it go in the nearby park.”

“You remember that?” you asked, disbelief written clear as day over your face. You stared at him without blinking, a smile wanting to pull at your lips.

“‘Course I do,” he said simply. “Remember everything you tell me.”

You let the smile break then, ducking your head bashfully and leaning heavily into his arm. He leant in to kiss the crown of your head, glad that his impulses only helped to sell the lie.

“I’m going to go grab a snack,” you said and cleared your throat. You tried to avoid John’s eyes but they flickered up without permission, a magnet to his own. “I’ll get you your favourites,” you promised.

“Thanks, Sunshine,” he said softly.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you got to the canapés table. You needed to reign it in, stop getting sucked in by blue eyes and rich voice.

“Never bloody filling enough,” you outwardly complained as you piled the snacks high on your plate. “Smaller than baby bites,” you huffed under your breath as you picked up a cube of cheese and ate it as you went along.

You heard a small laugh and turned to your right, eyes widening when you saw Shirl, John’s mum.

“They are quite silly in practice,” she admitted, gesturing to the small portions. She looked over her shoulder. “Though they look very nice plated like this.”

You snorted and moved to join her further up the table.

“Don’t tell anyone but we’re on our third plate,” you stage whispered, hooking a thumb back at John.

Shirley smiled indulgently. “Rich is on his third serving by himself. I wouldn’t worry.”

You laughed and looked back at John’s dad as he stood with John, slapping his son’s shoulder and nodding along as he spoke.

“You’re lovely together,” Shirley suddenly said. “I wasn’t sure at first. But you both seem good for one another, or at least you seem good for him.”

You watched her for a moment, how her gaze fluttered over the crowd as she sipped at her drink. Hair of the dog for Shirl too it seemed.

“Thank you.” You smiled genuinely when she looked at you out of the corner of her eye. “Lizzy not attending?”

Shirley sighed, happy for the topic change. She leant close and kept her gaze shrewd for any listening ears. “Too hung over to even get out of bed. God knows what people will think tomorrow.”

“Oh I simply couldn’t imagine,” you simpered along with a smirk.

——

“Quite the woman you’ve managed to catch for yourself,” Richard said as he came to stand by his son’s side.

“Yeah, she’s great,” John said as he watched you. He shifted with the weight of his father’s palm slapping his shoulder.

“‘Great’ he says,” his dad huffed with humour. “She’s a keeper, John.”

John shifted uneasily and nodded. Suddenly the weight of the lie settled heavily and uncomfortably over him, more prevalent now than all weekend and it dried his throat. He checked his watch and cleared his throat.

“Think we’ll need to be off soon,” he said. “To beat the traffic and all that.”

“You’ll be wanting a good night’s sleep for work tomorrow, I assume,” his dad agreed. “It was nice seeing you, son.”

John looked to his dad and took a deep breath. He spoke as he shook his dads hand tightly. “You too, dad.”

——

You turned at the tap on your arm and smiled when John was at your side once more.

“Got you the last of the little sausage rolls,” you said cheerily and he kissed your temple in thanks.

“We’ve got to get going, didn’t realise the time,” John said apologetically and turned to his mum with a close lipped smile.

“Oh, shame,” she hummed. She put her drink on the table and pulled him in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t leave it so long between visits next time. I’d like to see her again some time soon.”

She nodded to you over his shoulder and John swallowed past the guilt for a second time.

“I promise,” he lied.

“Come on, let’s scoff these as we say a quick good bye to everyone, John,” you suggested and let him lead you around the guests.

By time the pair of you got to Charlotte and Tom you’d finished your plate, but you were remiss for not having anything in your hands to keep them busy. Instead you had to try and keep them still as you watched with a little anxiety as John shook Tom’s hand and gave Charlotte a hug, wishing them well with what you could almost believe was a real smile on his face if you didn’t know better.

“It was great catching up, Lottie,” John said as he hooked his arm back around your waist. “Lovely party.”

“I’m so glad you both came,” Charlotte said, looking between the pair of you.

“Thanks for inviting us,” you added.

John didn’t linger; with a wave, he led you away and you felt him squeeze your hip as if to comfort himself.

With one last goodbye to his family, including Lizzy who had finally managed to fight past her hangover to turn up fashionably late, you climbed into his car with your bags in the boot.

You were uncharacteristically silent for the first part of the drive and it had the journey feeling a little melancholic, something John picked up on immediately.

His eyes cut across to you gazing out of the window, your hands folded in your lap, legs turned towards the door. His lips pursed at the shut off body language and he switched on the radio, skipping stations until he found an old rock song. Feeling his lips twitch he turned it up with another scant look your way to gauge your reaction and started singing along out of tune.

Your eyebrows rose at the sudden burst from his speakers and the sound of his scratchy singing voice, and you bit back a surprised smile as you turned to watch him. You snorted but joined in as soon as it hit the more familiar chorus, falling into his contagious spirit easily and drumming your hands on the dashboard when the heavy drum solo hit.

You couldn’t help but laugh when John took the chance at a red light to play the air guitar, head banging in time and biting his lip in concentration as if actually playing the tricky chords. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness however that all of this was temporary; coming to an end as soon as you reached home in a few hours.

You turned your sad eyes down and played the air keyboard dramatically to keep his suspicion waylaid; stating the instrument was your specialty when John commented on your questionable finger technique.

——

When he finally pulled up in front of your house several hours and a few stops later, you both sat there and looked at your front door in silence without moving.

He saw you fiddle with the strap of your handbag nervously, picking and scratching with your thumb nail.

He cleared his throat softly before breaking the silence. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You took a moment before giving him a weak smile. “Just know how shit it is to watch someone you care about be in love with someone else,” you settled on with a shrug. You felt pathetic about your month-old crush, especially in comparison to the hurt John was guaranteed to have been feeling at that moment.

He frowned and nodded slowly, trying to piece together what you may have meant. He opened his mouth, wanting to tell you that he didn’t feel that way about Charlotte anymore. That he’d realised he was over her this weekend while with you; but he hesitated, closed his mouth with a clack. Because this was just a favour to you wasn’t it? There were no real feelings on your end, right? It’d be wrong of him to put that on you now after the emotional exhaustion of lying to his family and supporting him through it. Selfish of him even.

But what did you mean you knew how it felt?

You watched him struggle for a moment and felt your heart ache when he said nothing; entirely unsurprised, and yet knowing he didn’t feel the same didn’t change how much it hurt to have it confirmed.

“Thanks for inviting me, John,” you said as sweet as you could manage. “I had a really good time.”

“Despite my family’s best efforts,” he joked weakly.

You rolled your eyes playfully. In a moment of weakness you reached out for his hand and squeezed it where it rested on his thigh.

“You know, I’m going to miss hanging out, just me and you,” you admitted, regretting it when John’s eyes turned sad. You spoke before he could have to chance to share false platitudes with you that maybe you’ll stay in touch; this was a favour, no more no less. You’d completed your end, there was no reason to drag out the inevitable, not when he didn’t need the fake dates as ‘proof’ anymore. “You’re a great guy, she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

He blinked and in a flash you were out of the car, door slamming with finality behind you as you jogged across the clear road.

Seeing you slip through his fingers in real time brought that feeling of an empty pit back in his stomach, but this time it wasn’t regret for something he couldn’t change or yearning for someone already out of reach.

“Chris’sake, I’m a grown fucking man,” he cursed himself out as he shouldered his way out of the car. He owed you the effort of trying at least.

John called after you, a shout of your name he didn’t often use, and you turned in surprise before you opened your front door. He saw the glassy tint to your eyes and felt his heart clench. Without thinking he blurted out the first thing that came to mind that might stop you for just a moment longer, “I still owe you the money we agreed on.” Your expression shuttered, shoulders stiffening, and he rounded his car quickly, needing to be closer with no barriers. “Fuck, no, that’s not what I meant to say, love. Wait.”

You stayed silent as you watched him on the other side of the dead road.

He paused to gather his racing thoughts.

“I don’t love my ex-wife anymore, or not how I did. Haven’t for a while I think, just loved the idea of her, the memory of what we had, the familiarity of it.” He swallowed thickly. “Think I loved fucking wallowing because I was used to it, ‘nd it was easier than admitting I’d been wrong and putting myself out there again to get hurt a second time ‘round.”

He checked the road before making his way closer as you wrapped your arms around yourself, tight and self-comforting.

“But these last couple of days… This last month; Sunshine, I got closure I didn’t know I needed but more than that I realised I want more than what I’ve been letting myself have. I want you.”

“John,” you finally spoke hoarsely. You shook your head.

“The time we’ve spent together recently… They’ve been some of the best days I’ve had in a long time.” He stepped forward and reached for your hands but you kept them folded away. “I want to feel that way again, every day that I can, with you.”

“I saw the way you looked at her,” you said gently, as if breaking to him that he still loved Charlotte. “You were laughing together at the end of the reception like it was your wedding.”

John huffed in disbelief. The fucking irony.

“Yeah because she told me how lucky I was to have a firecracker like you by my side,” he said with a laugh. “Not because I was trying to get her back. She’s pregnant, Sunshine, that ship has sailed.”

You felt your heart drop when realisation set in. “So I’m a consolation prize.”

“No,” he denied vehemently, eyes wide and horrified. “No, that’s not what I meant, bloody hell.”

He wiped a hand over his beard roughly, feeling you drift away word by word. He was fucking this up.

“Seeing her like that,” he started carefully. “I understand now that I didn’t want her back in the first place, not really.” At your doubtful look he continued on. “I don’t feel any jealousy or regret and not being the one starting a family with her; I just want to be happy like she is. And, Sunshine, it’s you that makes me happy like that.”

You looked at him with watery eyes, hope glistening in his own as his hand hovered by your hip.

You were quiet for a moment as you gathered your thoughts. John had flipped everything you’d felt, everything you’d thought you’d known about the last few days on its head and now you were stuck outside your house in the cold as the sun set, his confession heavy and waiting.

You felt cornered. It didn’t feel genuine, you still thought he was doing this out of some delayed sense of desperation and rejection. Clinging onto the first available woman after seeing Charlotte move on completely.

You liked John, a lot, and at any other time you’d have likely been jumping for joy hearing him say all of this. But you thought you knew him pretty well by now, and you weren’t going to make yourself unhappy by being second choice to help ease his bruised ego.

“I’m not looking for anything right now, John. Sworn off dating, remember?” You reminded him of your first conversation in that café, something that felt so long ago.

John became quiet for a moment, considering your soft rejection and trying to come to terms with it. He nodded and took a step back, his hand dropped back to his side.

“If you do start looking again, you’ve got my number,” he offered softly.

Your breath hitched and you nodded. You looked away and wiped at your face roughly when a tear fell. In a split decision you leant up and kissed his cheek before turning back and closing the door behind you.

did a little moodboard for this fic when i was stuck,, kept reader off it, the people in it are optional oc representation

#part 5 is majority done so i should’ve get that out in feb #not sure how happy i am with this chapter butttttt it might just be bc i thought it was a little boring ?? :// idk idk #fun stuff next chapter tho tee hee #john price x reader #price x reader #fat reader #trans john price

58 notes · View notes

xxgoldie · 3 days ago

Text

long ass summary of a fic I'll probably never write even tho I think abt it all the time. sex mention but nothing explicit.

----

i have a lot of thoughts about lighter and a reader that he knew back in his mercenary days. he's said himself he was reckless and cocky in those days, and I think it was probably the closest he had to a fuckboy phase - he was younger and stupider and high on the power and attention, so he took advantage of the fact he seemed able to get anyone he wanted.

except you. you never took the bait, rolling your eyes and telling him you don't mess around with mercs. especially not such overconfident ones. at first, you're a challenge, a puzzle for him to figure out. he follows you around all full of teasing and flirting as you reject him on every turn. but at some point it turns into a weird fondness - he begins to think of you as a friend, and you start to care for him and worry when he's not around.

maybe at some point, you both have too many drinks and you finally get with him. maybe you make out against the wall of some dingy dive bar. maybe you end up in his bed. and maybe you wake up the next morning filled with regret, not because it was a bad experience or because you abandoned the principles that had kept you rejecting him, but because you could feel yourself getting attached to him and, from your perspective, he'd treated your entire relationship as a game of getting in your pants. fine, then. he won. you slip out before he wakes up and stop answering his calls.

you never do get a chance to talk it out, because just over a week later, lighter's friends die in that hollow and his entire life crumbles. you hear about it through the grapevine, and with your entire community, you mourn quietly. they were common faces in the area, acquaintances if not friends to all. lighter is nowhere to be seen - the grapevine says he disbanded the rest of the group and disappeared. you wonder how he's doing, how he's handling it, but you can never bring yourself to pick up the phone and ask. it doesn't take long for you to figure you'll never see him again and try to push the memories to the back of your mind.

except you do see him again, years later, with a red scarf around his neck and sunglasses on his face and a gentler, more mature aura that has you questioning if it's really him. but if the way he flicks his lighter around isn't proof that this is the guy you used to know, then someone calling his name from the nearby bar definitely is.

when he sees you, lighter nearly turns tail and runs. he's sure he turns white as a ghost, which is ironic considering you're the one that feels more like a ghost to him. you're a stark, haunting reminder, not just of the times before he'd lost everything, but of the exact reasons it had happened. he had treated you how he had treated life back then; confident, selfish, taking every good thing around him for granted. and that was what had killed them. but despite his gut-wrenching instincts to avoid avoid avoid, lighter is not one to run from his problems. so he gives you an awkward smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes, and he waves.

you're not sure if it's the new energy he's giving off or just sheer curiosity, but you walk over to him. and during the reintroductions, lighter realises that maybe he can salvage this. maybe you could be friends, and he could make up for the person he used to be. it wouldn't bring his friends back, but it would be a small sort of atonement.

"if you've got time now, let's catch up. let me buy you a drink-" "a lot has changed the last few years, but I still don't mess around with mercs, lighter" "that's... not how I meant it, sorry. honestly, I'm sorry for how... persistent I was back then."

you watch him ignore the fact that the last time you saw each other, you'd been in a naked tipsy afterglow in his bed. he watches you laugh at his words like you'd forgiven him years ago. and you sit down and talk. he tells you where he's been the last few years, maybe giving more details than he's given anybody else, but after a time, you both turn to talking about your current lives. and he remembers just how easy talking to you is, and how there was always something about you that made it just impossible to give up, something that had drawn him in past the cat and mouse game he'd imposed on you even back then.

he won't pursue you this time, though. he can't. it's his penance. if he has a chance, which he highly doubts, it needs to come from you. he wants your friendship more than anything right now, to salvage a scrap of his past like the dogtags he wears around his neck. if, in the back of his mind, sometime over the midday drinks on the first time you've seen him in years, he realises he's loved you all along, then that is his cross to bear and he will bear it in silence.

but, much to his surprise, you Do initiate. before he knows it, your number's in his phone and you're inviting him for drinks and coffee every week and you press a quick kiss to his cheek when he drops you home. and lighter can't quite stop himself from flirting back, just a little, the occasional protective hand around your shoulder or teasing quip.

it's ironic, really, that it's once again a drunken night where you end up in his bed that tips the two of you over the edge. it doesn't feel like some casual hookup this time - it can't, with everything the two of you have been through and everything that hangs over you. he tells you he loves you and you're too dizzy with pleasure to process it until the next day.

in the morning, he wakes up with you in his arms, skin against skin. he holds you tighter, pushing your slowly waking mind past the threshold out of sleep.

"you didn't leave this time." he mutters sleepily into your hair.

"mm, less scared I'll get hurt if I get attached this time," you confess, and something about it feels natural to both of you, not like some great revelation.

"you should stay," is all he responds, as if the way he's holding you would let you leave even if you wanted to. then, before he can think better of it, "stay forever."

you giggle, pressing a kiss to the nearest patch of his skin you can find - his shoulder - before snuggling up to go back to sleep.

"I'm not going anywhere."

----

the fact this is as long as it is as like a summary can explain why I will probably never get round to writing this properly let alone finishing it

#there's also a version of this in my head where they stay in contact for a bit while hes in the ember arena #but he's too broken and angry to be a decent friend let alone a good partner in that phase of his life #n reader tries to help him at first but he's utterly selfish abt it #with readers final straw when they cut him off being a wake up call for him in a way #and a lot of noah kahan dial drunk vibes in that era #but it's not the primary way i think abt this idea so its just in the tags #goldie yearns ♡#zzz lighter #lighter lorenz #zenless zone zero #zzz lighter x reader #zzz #zzz x reader #zzz lighter lorenz #lighter zzz #lighter lorenz x reader #zzz lighter lorenz x reader

36 notes · View notes

catboysooyoung · 1 day ago

Text

Speaking of!!

I honestly think about the Fox Counselling Room all the time. It's a very interesting "benefit" that the company provides for its employees. I also feel like it's some of the most insight we are provided on Kim Soleum and his character as a whole. Some points.

The fox counselling room is a ghost story. Similar to the dokkaebi workshop in the bureau, it's a ghost story that's considered to be "safe" enough to be used semi-regularly by trained employees, who are high up enough the ladder that they can be considered to be competent enough to use it, so long as they adhere to the guidelines. It's interesting that "contamination" by ghost stories can be treated in this ghost story. As the contamination seems to be supernatural in nature, it seems that only a supernatural guidance can provide the proper assistance. I guess it's sort of like getting a ghostly vaccine in a sense. However, as it is still a ghost story, using it is not without its own risks of contamination. I guess it's not that odd, given that regular medicine also has their own side effects if the rules of use are not followed, or if the sufferer has pre-existing conditions that can interact with the treatment.

The method the counseling room adopts is to have the "fox" imitate the subject or object related to your trauma, and "create a scenario where the situation is resolved". Kim Soleum mentioned that most people "who immerse themselves deeply" felt some sort of emotional catharsis for this. It seemed to work as a sort of simulation for them to vent out their frustrations and work out their troubles. The way he worded this is interesting though, does he not immerse himself in his emotions? He even wondered if the therapy would have any effect on him, since he "already knew everything", when we clearly know by now that KSE is pretty avoidant when it comes to his own feelings & bodily awareness. Beyond what's necessary, he just pushes it to the back of his mind. Makes him a great employee, but very vulnerable to contamination. Everything is A-Okay until he crashes and burns.

Unsurprisingly, the fox imitates KSE himself, or more accurately, the truer version of himself. Here, fox counselor!KSE looks somber, tired, and much more disheveled than KSE considers himself to be. This gap unsettles KSE, most likely because he's made aware of his...glaring lack of awareness of his own state. After dodgingly answering a few questions relating to his well-being, it's revealed that he was carrying a contaminated object (the rule book) the whole time, thus confirming the fox's initial claims...

Is Kim Soleum really not contaminated anymore? He felt better after having the contaminant taken out, but the way he worded it was funny. He claimed he was then "just another weary, exhausted office worker", which cannot be more untrue. He's still in denial. He was no longer just another tired office worker like in his previous world. I don't believe he's fully recovered. I mean, I've met Park Moondae. DS. Back's protags are the same. The lizard boss also confirmed my suspicion by literally saying it to KSE's face lol I love him.

Kim Soleum's... Family? This is the real kicker for me. By the end of the session, the counselor told KSE that he's lucky to have family and friends who care for him here. Friends, KSE could understand to be his close coworkers/squad mates. But family? One of the most notable things that happened to KSE in the early chapters is that his family's contacts disappeared from his phone, only the contacts he got from college remained, and he seemed to have been transported back in time to when he was struggling to look for housing after graduating. But still, why would that erase his family's contacts? Does that mean his family is not in this world? Strangely enough, KSE did not dwell too much on this back then. Could be the effects of the Ghost Story World or he's just not that close to his family. The only other time he's mentioned anything relating to his family is when he met Agent Bronze/Ryu Jaekwan and "explained" how he got the silver heart badge. Here, he took advantage of the misunderstanding that his parents are "not in this world" / "watching from the heavens", likening the merch box to "family". He also mentioned that his parents had warned him not to go into the financial sector (side note.. KSE was a finance bro?). But that's it. So this brings the question... What did the fox mean by "family"? He pointed to the Socius tattoo, which was given by our dear Yongyong (the blue dragon mascot). Does this mean... Yongyong considers him family? Or is there another explanation? Come to think of it, KSE has been very... Casual about the mention of family. It could be that he, again, just wasn't that particularly close to them. But usually, unless they have particularly bad blood, isekai protags would often reminisce about their old world, their original family included, thus laying the emotional foundation for their goal to go back.... So again, is it just the usual emotional distance, is it a protective mechanism, or is he more impacted by entering this new world than we thought?

#long post #괴담출근 #gsgw #kim soleum #just saying shit tbh #mild spoilers for ch 60-70+ i think #talk

15 notes · View notes

katarrinskey · 3 days ago

Text

Well, she is a character in an ongoing dnd campaign, first and foremost, so anything that happens during or after the war of the ring is a bit up in the air, you see. I keep expanding on her tragic backstory tho: there is a lot of things to consider for the first age, to the point where part of me is considering actually writing something for the first time in a decade, haha

I did made a refsheet where I plan on organizing her backstory properly for myself, my dm, and anyone interested in her. Eventually. It's mostly empty for now except for arts, both those I already posted and some that I haven't

I will say that she keeps starting stupid (mostly human) legends, myths and superstitions throughout the second age, without quite noticing that she's doing it. Some notable ones:

-almost got caught by some numenorean guys - lone horse of some ancient elven breed just roaming in the middle of nowhere? Seems someone suspicious. Either she is lost and could be returned to the owners for some reward, or just straight up sold. Is really not a fan of being treated that way, so she may or may not have drowned at least one of them in a river before escaping her captors. Those who survive the encounter name her an evil spirit and ward their folk of the lone horses

- she's been known to help travelers occasionally. Every now and then a lone ranger unable to escape a band of orcs on foot will be miraculously carried away by a horse until they are safe out of enemy's clutches. The help, however, oftentimes means that you will wake up alone and with some of your belongings missing. If so, that is a fair price for a life saved

- she gets bored and follows traveling caravans sometimes. Those tend to gossip among themselves, and she is not true isolationist at heart - any news of the world around is a welcome thing. Moreover, when the travellers are asleep, no one would stop her from borrowing their books. Those she returns, always. They do not give her much of what she's looking for (namely, any word of her family - she is largely unaware of anything that happened after she left them), cause she is unlikely to join if there are elven travelers in the midst, but it means she sometimes knows seemingly random things. She probably gets caught every now and then - girl does kinda glow in the dark - but startling her means she is turning back into a horse and running off immediately. There are some people that consider her a particularly shy spirit of knowledge

- early in the second age, there were rumors of a lady in a torn cloak, that would sell intricate jewelry for far less than its worth in remote human villages. She came just before dawn while it was still dark out, and her eyes shined with a strange light and she would sell golden beads and bracelets with intricate etchings and combs made of bone and many other small things for some silvers and simple things one is willing to spare, like apples or last summer's preserves. She would then disappear as suddenly as she would appear. It is not at all surprising that some villagers start believing her a benevolent ghost.

There are probably more of those, about mistreated children being protected by spirits of old and lost ones finding their way, about things stolen under strange circumstances and payment left in their stead, or else borrowed and later found. She doesn't pay them much mind herself, never connects them to her own exploits or sees the impact left by her actions. But someone else might. Someone listening for rumors of someone else entirely, yet always stumbling into these. Someone looking for a songbird but always finding a bloody horse instead

@bblues-ocs

Omg, hiiiiii

You are giving me an excuse to talk about my girl and that is very kind of you and you bet I will take it-

First of all, new art I've been meaning to post anyways

And the rest got pretty long, so I am putting it under the cut

So, the biggest thing about Menelastë Andaraimë is that she is, well, kind of a coward. But that doesn't really become relevant until a bit later

She was born into a family of pretty prominent feanorian supporters, but she was never really big on politics herself. What she was good at, is horses. Breeding them, taking care if them, riding, ofc. Which, not necessarily what one would consider glamorous enough for a kid with her background, but that's where her heart always laid, and for the whole "family legacy" schtick, she has two older (and two younger, if need be) siblings (I got thoughts on each of them, but if I am going there, this is gonna take a while, so here is just a lil bunch of lil sketches of them-)

(Which, honestly, kinda funny that she end's up as Noldor's most famous musician's wife somehow, truly, but that is also it's own story, I think)

So, she doesn't consider herself smart enough for politics, prefers her horses' company most days, and just kinda chills. And then the darkening happens. And well, nearly everyone she cares about is going and bet they gonna need someone who knows horses on the other shore and staying is about as scary as going anyways, now that they know that Valinor isn't completely safe, so she goes too.

And then the first kinslaying happens. And she had been teaching herself sword, they all were, but this is terrifying and she is not the type for heavy armor so she just. Finds an alley and prays to Varda no one finds her. And so they don't. Not until it's all over.

(Her older brother, Failareth, is the type for heavy armor. That's why he drown in the harbor when some poor Teler pushes him of the pierce)

Once they reach Beleriand, she does as she always did. When the ships burn, she makes sure none of the animals panic when they see fire. When they get into skirmishes, she tries to get out of the fray instead of charging ahead. When the major battle approaches, she hides away in the chaos if it, turning into a horse herself - trick she learned back in Valinor. It is way easier to stay alive when you are just a horse.

She stands by her husband, of course. She is the oldest woman of the First House if the Noldor now, so she does what is needed of her. For a while, in Mithrim, she is Queen, and she tries to be convincing and generous and cultivates the appropriate dignity. It's hard - she isn't charming by nature and she prefers the stables still, but she tries. In the end, she is much better at observing than she is at talking. She is much relieved when the scrutiny shifts away from her again.

She is happy in the marches, tho. Maglors gap is mostly held by cavalry, her contribution is important. She helps with things like supplies. She trains the horses. She scouts, occasionally, or delivers correspondence. She fits there, for a while.

She's still a coward. She gets used to small scale fights, finds rhythm in those, but never masters any sort of exceptional skill in it. It is not a bad thing, she thinks. Less blood on her hands makes her a better healer.

She leads the first wave of evacuations during Bragolath. That's the most useful thing she can do anyways.

In the eve of the fifth battle, she does little else, but hope and prays for bravery. She still flees first chance she gets.

She sheds tears for all they lost after - they all do. She births a child - a daughter - a few years later. To give herself a future to fight for, maybe. To keep her hope and her faith from burning out completely. Or, perhaps, just cause there is just no point in waiting for better times anymore.

(Daughter in question)

She trusts her husband and brothers-in-law when they claim the attack on Menegroth to be inevitable, even when she doesn't quite recognise them anymore, even when they start scaring her. Her older sister is full of righteous fury - Sindar never had the right to keep the stone anyways. Menelastë agrees - she knows her people's laws, she knows they tried negotiations first, she knows the Oath will leave them with no other choice.

Her daughter is still a child. She is one of maybe a dozen they still have around. There is no place for them in a fight such as this, and, chances are, once they take step on this road, there will be no place they would be able to evacuate those kids to. The darkness keeps spreading and she can't count on still having allies after they take up swords against the Sindar.

So, once the course is set, she steals the children, her own included. She takes them to Cirdan - they won't be the first Noldor kids left in his people's care. By then, the second kinslaying happens already and news spread. She herself doesn't enter the city.

She doesn't go back to her own people either. Not after going behind everyone's backs on this. Not after running away from the battle again, in a way that cannot be denied now. She is not ashamed of doing what she had to, but she can't fave the consequences of her cowardice.

She turns into a horse. Noone will recognise her this way.

And then she stays a horse for a long time. If she ever rejoins civilization in her true form, she sticks to places noone would know her face - Eru bless men for their short memories. She rarely stays for long anyways. If she needs supplies, she stumbles into traveler's paths as a horse, then takes what she needs while everyone sleeps. She gets her news by listening to their conversations. She sells her noldorin jewelry to dwarves and men. She puts in low value coins into people's bags sometimes. It's less when what she takes is worth, more often than not, but it's better than nothing and it makes her feel a little better about herself.

And that's how she lives for a very long time. Till, one day all the way in the Third Age she stumbles upon an adventuring party and things start to change their course...

#oc: menelasto andaraimë #god that gotten somewhat long again #and could definitely be it's own post #(or a drabble collection on ao3 lmao)#oh and yes she does shake her head like a horse when she's trying to get hair out of her face begore remembering to get it with her hands #i do truly have a lot on her #and her siblings #and her daughter #and their connections to canon characters #no way i am writing those it reblogs tho this post is already a lot to navigate sorry #also some I would like to have some art made #and that might take a while since i don't really have spoons (or time) for anything but single person portrait and floating heads #and i do need to figure out my feanorians designs its been years since i drawn any of them #anyways thanks for asking again i am glad you are enjoying her cause i love her so much

25 notes · View notes

venlazlo · 3 months ago

Text

Maryis Week Day 1 Heart to Heart

---------------------

Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 6 | Day 7

edit: added the maryisweek2024 tag now that the day has come

silly little speech bubble addition under the cut. =3

the prompt is heart to heart for day 1 and i'm emotionally inept so i went literal with it.

#it said to tag the host but!!! im shy and also theres still no word on whether its leaving twt so ion even know if theyre checking tumblr #fields of mistria #fom march #fom ryis #also sorry y'all for the lack of maryis and art in general these past few days ive been Going Thru It™#maryis #my art #march fom #ryis fom #march x ryis #ryis x march #but im working on the maryis week stuff now and ill just post them early cuz i still dont know if im schizo or haunted #just know if i disappear then the ghosts got me #maryisweek2024

65 notes · View notes

starry-bi-sky · 10 months ago

Text

I had a thought, dear However scary About that night The bugs and the dirt Why were you digging? What did you bury Before those hands pulled me From the earth? I will not ask you where you came from I will not ask you, neither should you

-------- an extension of this excerpt because I've been thinking of Femme Danny and Jason all week. It's mildly suggestive, but that's really the only heads up needed. --------

Music blaring, bass heavy in her ears, Danny finds him in a ditch at the bottom of the bluff. She was leaving the observatory, and she nearly misses him as she turns out onto the last stretch of road leading back into the city.

She catches sight of him, just barely. A glimpse in the corner of her eye; something reflecting on the light. She thinks it's a deer at first, and instinctual terror that only the idiocy of a deer denting her car can give her, strikes her hard. There's no one behind her, so she slams the breaks.

Her car stops; there's no deer. She looks and looks, but there's no deer, no deer buddy — they always come in pairs. But something still catches her eye; light reflecting off leather, in the ditch below just a few feet in front of her.

"What the fuck is that?" Slips out of her mouth before she can really think it through, and she's pulling off to the shoulder, wheels crunching gravel, before she thinks that through either.

Danny's climbing out of her car within seconds, putting it in park and hitting her hazards as her door clicks open and she stands up on the ledge. The trees block the sky, and there is no moon beholden to brighten the land, only the dull light of the stars and the brights of her car.

There's a man in a ditch. And he's not moving. From the distance, Danny's not sure if he's breathing.

She breathes out for him; "Fuck." She's running around the front of her car, not thinking it through. Her feet crunch the gravel, bugs buzzing at her ears, and she's sliding down the small hill into the ditch to reach his side.

"Please don't be dead, please don't be dead." Repeats in mantra under her breath, she can smell blood; heavy and iron, mixing with the dirt and the grass. Her hands find his side, Danny rolls him over onto his back. Her fingers find his pulse, and she breathes relief. He's alive.

—---------

Danny finds no less than two — no, three guns, four knives, and an actual, goddamn shiv on the half-dead ditch man. But not a single ID or wallet.

The man reeks of danger, even in his unconscious state it lingers on him like a rich cologne. It's the human instinct to be curious, and maybe it's the blood and dirt that tells her he's bad news. Common sense, naturally.

She doesn't know what to do with him. Danny wants to help him, but the ghostly part of her, the one that seeks safety above all else — for herself, for her loved ones. Because growing up in a house of weapons on the tables for sticky, pudgy fingers to play with, and food that needs killing twice, and labs full of half-broken beakers and radioactive substances spilling onto the floor robbed her of it entirely, — tells her to leave him.

He's dangerous. Her core hums cold, freezing the tips of her fingers, making her ears ring. She forgets to breathe, her hands going numb. Leave him for the coyotes to find; for the bugs to feast on; for the mud to swallow whole. Leave him for the land. Nobody carries this many weapons on them unless—

He groans. In only the light from her high beams, his cracked lips split and makes a noise of pain. His chest rises, shuddery and slow, and he doesn't wake. The man slips back down into unconsciousness. But he's alive.

He's alive.

Danny exhales. It's springtime, wreathed in life. It's cold; he's cold. But alive. She shakes the chill from her fingers, resolution warms her lungs.

Carrying him up to her car isn't easy — dressed like fucking Dean Winchester and wearing half as many layers, the man is probably two hundred pounds. But she's been working out and taking boxing classes since sophomore year of high school. She throws him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, and hikes them both up the hill.

She drives them home. Don't ask her why she didn't take them to the hospital; she can't give an answer. Not one that makes sense. She knows enough first aid to fix almost anything he might have.

Danny blasts the heat and turns the music on low; switches to something softer, more comforting, in case he wakes up. She kicks the passenger seat back far enough so that if he does, he's reclined comfortably.

He doesn't wake up, she can't keep her eyes off him anyways.

—---------

Danny lays him on the couch in her house. He gets blood and mud on the fabric, and she'll need to get a new one because of it. But she takes off his boots, strips him of his shirt and jackets, and flies to the bathroom to get her first aid kit.

He doesn't wake up the entire time she's putting stitches in his side. Nothing is broken, but he's bruised and cut. Some get band-aids, others get bandages.

The man has half as many scars as Danny does. Stabs, cuts, a few burns here and there. Danny has those too, but she doubts the man has been impaled before like she has. The luck of ghosts that they can't die by mortal means. Or curse, depending on how you look at it.

(There's a thin scar on his throat, like someone tried to slice it open. She sees it while she's stitching up a laceration near his collarbone, and Danny can't stop herself from huffing.)

("We match." She murmurs, joking dry and ingenuine. She doubts anyone's survived a botched decapitation like she has. At least his scar is thin and hard to see. That wasn't a good night for her; she had to sew it closed herself, alone out of refusal to let her friends help.)

When she's done, she collapses into the recliner beside him, and falls asleep. She slips in and out of dreams all night.

—---------

When she wakes up, the man is staring at her, sitting up on the couch like an animal listening for the predator nearby. It's a good thing she hid his weapons in the floorboards when they arrived. She stares back at him, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

He's handsome. She thinks, and wakes up fully.

—---------

His name is Jason Todd, he doesn't remember who he is.

That's... a problem.

—---------

She makes them both food, and she'll never stop appreciating the fact that she no longer needs to fight her fridge before the food inside lets her eat. She hasn't lived with her parents in years, and yet the awe still hits her some days.

"I thought I told you to stay seated." She frowns when Jason Todd enters her kitchen, a hand hovering over his bandaged side. They're both tense; awkward and wrong-footed. Off-kilter. It's not a surprise to her. He's amnesiac, she's a stranger.

Jason Todd blinks at her, leaning against the doorframe. From her periphery, he shrugs, only to suck in his teeth in pained regret moments later. "I got bored." He tells her.

"Well, I don't have painkillers," Danny retorts, cheek comes easy to her. Too easy, sometimes. "if you tear your stitches then I'm giving you a rag to bite into while I redo them."

Well, if anything, it gets a snort from him.

—---------

"So, do I have a shirt, or did you just find a half-naked, half-dead man in the woods and decide to take him home?" Jason Todd asks her from the table a few minutes later. She can see, even standing a few feet away, the gooseflesh rising bumps against his skin.

Her cheeks color pink, and she moves to the hallway. "You have a shirt," she says, "you have two actually, and a jacket. I threw the shirts in the wash because they were filthy."

The jacket was leather, so during the night, when she woke up from her many bouts of restless sleep, she got up and cleaned it by hand. "I would've done the same with your jeans, but I can take a half-dead man home," she opens the dryer and pulls out the shirts, "but I draw the line at taking off his pants when he's unconscious."

It gets a short laugh out of him; harsh and brief, and it makes her relax, just a little. Laughter meant just enough comfort to not be tense... most of the time. She returns to his side and drapes the still-warm clothes onto the table.

"What if my legs were hurt?" He asks her, raising an eyebrow even as he reached for the first shirt.

"Then that is called an exception to the rule, ditch man."

—---------

He stays with her. He has nowhere to go — and trust her, they looked. Or they tried to. But he has no social media that shows up under the name ‘Jason Todd’. Oh, there are Jason Todds, but none that match the way he looks — none of them his age, none of them with black hair and blue eyes, no white streak in the curls at the front.

Well, there was one possible candidate. A Jason Todd-Wayne, infamous adoptive son of Bruce Wayne. But he died the same year Danny did, and unlike her, he didn’t come back.

“Great.” Jason Todd sighs heavy, “I match with a dead kid.”

“I’m honestly kind of impressed.” Danny tells him, frowning despite her laughing disbelief. She scrolls through every social media she can find, and he just doesn’t show up. There are no warrants out for his arrests, no celebrity interviews with him in it, no missing news reports matching his description. Nothing. “How do you not have any socials? You’re like a ghost.” And she knows a thing or two about ghosts.

It’s equally as suspicious as it is impressive. Who are you, Jason Todd? She wonders, looking over to him.

He merely shrugs, careful of his injuries, and slumps into his chair. “Don’t ask me, I don’t remember.”

She gives him the guest room, and they go out and buy him clothes with what budget she can afford. She drags him to a thrift store first, to every thrift store in the city, and they come back with a decent enough haul that he has clothes for at least two weeks.

—---------

“Danny, what is that?”

She takes a long sip of her drink, Jason lingering at her side like a shadow. “A smoothie, Tucker.” She says, deadpan like it's the most obvious thing in the world as she slides into their favorite booth with practiced ease. “You know this, I always get one on Fridays.”

Jason follows her easily, slow and careful, mindful of his sides. He’s back to awkward, tense, acting like an outside looking in. Like he’s not quite sure what to do in the face of her friends. They’ve been together for a week now, and she asked him if he wanted to meet Sam and Tucker with her.

(“You’ve been cooped up here all week.” She says when he asks her why, her hands shifting the purse at her shoulder. In shorts and a tank-top her scars lay on display for the world to see, and while she's long since shed the worst of her self-consciousness, it still creeps up on her. She can feel his eyes on them, even after a week. “Some fresh air and a change of scenery might do you some good. Maybe even jog that noggin of yours.”)

Sam and Tucker stare at her, expressions unreading on their faces. Their eyes flick to Jason at her side, and then back to her. Danny takes another longer sip of her drink, and when she lets go with an obnoxious smack, she jerks her head to Jason. “Oh,” she says like an afterthought, an impish smile shadowing over her lips. “This is Jason, I found him in a ditch on Sunday.”

"You what!?"

—---------

She doesn’t know how it happens. It sneaks up on her like sunlight creeping across the grass, melting away the morning dew and warming the dirt. She loves him. She loves him, she loves him, she loves him. It’s a terrible, choking thing. Wonderfully beautiful, melting her from the inside out.

She loves him, she loves him, she loves him.

It’s greater than anything she’s felt before. Different from when she nearly dated Valerie in high school — but so, so similar to it at the same time. Warm in its certainty, in its similarity, burning in its difference.

Danny doesn��t even realize it until half a year living with him, maybe just a little bit longer. But she realizes when she comes downstairs in the early dredges of the morning, sleep clinging to her lashes and sunlight unfurling through the windows, and finds him in the kitchen making food already.

It’s not the first time she’s woken up to him doing this. But it’s, for some reason, only now that it hits her how fucking domestic it is. With music playing soft through the speaker of his used phone, barefoot in nothing but sweatpants, and humming along under his breath. He’s gotten so comfortable here; he laughs easier now, smiles easier. It was like watching a flower bloom in real time.

And the sunlight cards through his hair like fingers, caressing over his face in that loving way it does when it wants someone to see the breathless beauty of their eyes.

Something constricts in Danny’s chest, tight, fond, wanting. Mine, her mind whispers, faint and distant, and knocking the air from her lungs like a fucking train. Her fingers curl tight around the stairway rails, she has half a mind to crack it in two.

Then he turns and sees her, he always notices her quickly, and Jason smiles at her.

Somehow, Danny manages to smile back smiling with the ease of breathing, even when her mouth runs dry.

(If she kisses him, will she taste sugar? She hopes not — white sugar is unfilling, sweet but with nothing else to it. If she tastes Jason Todd, she hopes she tastes caramel.)

—---------

“Want to go throw axes with me?” Danny asks, draping over the back of the couch and hanging her arms off Jason’s shoulders. Her hand finds his hair, and her fingers tangle with the dark curls. She can smell his shampoo when she hooks her chin on the top of his head.

Jason stills, a book in hand — he’s always got a book, and Danny’s never had much artistic talent but she always want s to find a pencil, maybe some charcoals, and sketch the sight down on paper. Memory isn’t enough, she needs it burned into something tangible. She wants to burn everything he does onto paper, wants to remember every little thing about him.

Then he hums, questioning and low, and Danny tries not to shiver with greed to hear it again. She hums back, her next inhale clearing her head. “Well, it’s not just me, but Sam and Tucker too. A new bar opened up downtown and we were gonna check it out, and we have enough time to add another person to the reservation.”

A silence, thick and thoughtful. Jason tilts his head back to look up at her, and she removes her chin and hand to look down at him. Her hair curtains over them both, locking her into his eyes — impossibly blue, and beautifully so, with teal lining the iris.

He wears his thoughts on his sleeve, his brows furrowed and mouth puckered in lighthearted thoughtfulness. Quit making me want to kiss you, Danny thinks, and forces her eyes to remain on his face. Idly, her hands trace over his shirt, rising slowly to drag the back of her nail over his collarbone.

Jason shudders, sighs out slow, and smiles easily. “Sure, what time are we leaving?”

—---------

Danny sighs as if she aches; she does. Her fingers find Jason Todd’s hair, soft and slipping between her fingers like silk. He’s so close to her face she can feel his breath on her lips, it’s driving her crazy with it.

“My god.” She murmurs, her voice slipping out without her consent as her fingers drop from his hair to trace featherlight touches down his temples, down his jaw. His eyes haven’t left hers, half-lidded they are, and heavy, staring at her like he might just swallow her whole.

Please do, she thinks, tilting her head to the side to slot their noses next to each other. His hands tighten at her waist, fingers digging through her hoodie into her skin. He hums, questioningly, low and rumbling like a thunderstorm on the horizon. As if he can’t trust his voice to say something instead.

Danny chokes on nothing’s heat and runs her thumb over his bottom lip, the flesh catching briefly on her nail. She can’t think straight with him so close to her. Not when he’s so close she can smell his cologne, not when he’s so close she can lean down and sink her teeth into his throat and leave a bruise. She should, it might clear her head.

Instead, she sighs again, her mouth so close to his that she brushes over his lips when she says; “You’re divine.”

In the end, she doesn’t need to think about leaving bruises on his throat, because Jason closes that centimeters’ worth of distance between each other and kisses her like he needs air.

—---------

“Do you have to go, love?” Arms snake around her waist, slipping easily over her dress, and Danny laughs, soft and easy, as Jason pulls her flush against his chest and drops his head into the crook over her shoulder. He dwarfs her in the mirror, capable of curling around her entirely, and she raises a gloved hand to rake her fingers through his soft hair.

Danny hums deeply, tilting to bare her throat as Jason starts pressing kisses to the skin. “Vlad will be upset if I don’t show up.” She wasn’t sure of the importance of this party, but Vlad had promised her a hefty bribe to show up, and call her greedy but damn if she wasn’t going to turn it down.

Teeth bite gentle at the underside of her jaw, and Danny laughs out of surprise. Jason smiles, indenting it into her skin, and his hand finds the slit of her dress and covers the burn scar on the outside of her thigh. “What about running late?” He asks, something impish in his tone. “I’ve never seen you wear this one; you look good in red.”

Danny laughs again, turns her head to catch his lips against hers, and kisses him long and sweet. “Yes, he’ll be mad if I’m late.” She says when she pulls back.

He pouts, and really, how else is Danny supposed to react other than kiss him again? So she does, happily. “Wake me up when you get back,” Jason murmurs against her mouth, chasing after her, “I want to help you undress.”

—---------

Some days, death creeps up on her, and the phantom pains of it render her coiled into a ball in her bed. She wakes up at three am burning, her starburst scars rooting down to her bones to remind her of the feeling of being torn apart by the atoms and stitched back together again.

Danny can feel her heart beating in her ears, fast and panicked like she ran a marathon, filling her mouth with iron and the urge to cough out her lungs. There’s a scream stuck in the back of her throat like a spider sac, and she writhes with her head in her arms for what feels like an hour before she forces herself out of bed, mind half-muddled like a zombie.

Jason is still asleep, Danny doesn’t have half the mind to be grateful, she shuffles herself down into the garage and grabs a compressed canister from the fridge, hidden in a false shelf. She might not keep ectoplasm in the kitchen, but she does in the garage.

She returns on second nature to the bathroom. She locks the door, shuts the drain, and runs the water to boiling, and doesn’t stop the faucet until the water reaches the little drain in the wall beneath that prevents overflow. The compressed canister cracks open with a hiss, and Danny dumps what’s probably an ounce of ectoplasm into the steaming water.

The effect is instantaneous, the water swirling and turning bright with ectoplasm all the way down. It’s diluted, and Danny only remembers to take off her sleep shirt before she slips into the water.

Relief sinks into her, and chases away the worst of the pain. She sighs, she can breathe again, and dunks her head beneath the water.

Then doesn’t get out until she’s freezing again and nearly peeling with wrinkles.

(She goes downstairs when she’s changed into dry clothes and her hair is damp, and then collapses into Jason’s lap. Her face finds the crook of his neck, and Danny slumps, arms wrapping around his neck.)

(Jason’s hands find her waist, and his thumbs rub circles into her side, slipping under her shirt to run over the raised skin of the burn there. “What’s wrong?” He asks, murmuring low and close to her ear.)

(“Phantom pains.” Danny mumbles.)

(“Where?”)

(“Everywhere.”)

—---------

When Danny returns home after finding Jason again, she feels numb, she feels cold. Her engagement ring is heavy on her finger and she feels like an outsider looking in when she looks down at it.

She can’t get the way he looked at her out of her mind. It’s seared into her brain.

Her back hits the door, and slowly she slides down it, a sob building in her throat. Her lip curling, her heart aching, her heart breaking. Too many questions inside her head for her to try and sort through them, but one is prevalent; Jason Todd is a liar.

Danny shrieks his name so loud that she breaks her ceiling lights, and takes out the power throughout the entire block. There are dogs howling, cars wailing outside. There’s broken glass beneath her, scattered across the ground, cutting into her palms, and she hurts so much she wants to take the biggest shard and shred herself into ribbons.

—---------

The memory fades away back into its small star-shape, and floats back up to the ceiling of her lair’s observatory. Danny watches it go, something small and aching still in her chest. Two weeks since she moved into the Zone, and she hates that she still loves him. She loves that she still loves him.

She hates that she still misses him. She still visits Sam and Tucker, but Amity Park is tainted with the memory of Jason Todd; she needs away from it for a little while. Maybe a long while. She’s not too sure right now, she just needs to stay away. Somewhere where she can’t run into him.

Danny pulls down another star to watch another memory again. One where they're dancing.

#dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #fem danny fenton #amnesic jason todd #dead on main #dpxdc ficlet #starry's writing #who gets amnesia twice!? prompt au #credit goes to kuroishuuha because this was their prompt that inspired this #cw mildly suggestive #danny's 'obsession' being more about her own personal safety along with the safety of her loved ones just makes sense to me in this au #i have so many thoughts about her and jason its lowkey ridiculous.#in my head danny got into boxing and she also has a ton of scars from ghost fights and burn scars from the portal accident #yes that *is* a reference to the fact that Dean Winchester voiced the Red Hood in UTRH! And also I imagined Jason in the #s1 Dean leather jacket and promptly lost my fucking mind. so now he has that. in my head he was undercover when he got amnesia blasted #and the amnesia was from a magic user. and that when he regained his memories the magic got all fucky wucky and thats why he forgot danny.#it didn't exactly go away it just malfunctioned for some reason and latched on to the only other memories he had. accidentally releasing #the hold it had on his prior memories in turn. it's just horrible luck all around folks. bad end jason is having a terrible time frankly.#so is danny but they're kinda suffering on the same yet different frequencies. danny can't understand why jason would run off on her #and thought he was pretending not to know her. it threw her entire perception of him into question and whether or not the last three #years were even real or if he was just a fantastic actor. she's obsessively rewatching memories of them together to try and figure out if #he ever let his 'facade' slip around her and she just didn't notice. and also because she just. really fucking misses him. he disappeared #for three months. she was worried sick. they were supposed to be married by now. she had to call all their venues and cancel. she returned #her wedding dress. she's hurting terribly right now. Jason is like. one wrong rubber band snap from pulling a Tim. He didn't fall out of #love. he forgot and now he's remembering and he's still madly in love with his fiancé. its only been 3mo but now she's dead and he is just.#SUFFERING. someone keep an eye on him yall. he's not doing too hot. the waynes are cursed to never get married ifykyk

58 notes · View notes

klanced · 2 years ago

Note

Keith walking into the holding cell greeting all the regulars by name while Lance is sobbing lamenting that his life is over and his future is ruined (they were like. Trespassing or some shit he’s going to be fine)

lance: (actively dry heaving in the corner, on the verge of a panic attack as he imagines having a permanent record)(actually what does a permanent record even look like?)(omg is he going to have to go to COURT? like in JUDGE JUDY?)

keith: remy, this is lance. lance, this is remy, she’s my favorite alcoholic :)

#voltron #klance #honestly I imagine they got caught trespassing while ghost hunting #if they’re in Texas then they will most likely get a full on misdemeanor on their record. Texas is very big on property rights.#trespassing can quickly elevate to criminal charges in texas it is actually very serious. do not trespass in texas.#meanwhile in Maine trespassing can be just an infraction & not added to your record #like sure they're teenagers so they could get their records sealed or expunged when they're 18. but like. the garrison would know. not good #sorry i just like talking about the law #speaking of which let me go on a tangent #i do think keith frequently gets charged with trespassing. at his own shack in the desert.#and so now he is Really good at juvenile law specifically because he is constantly arguing with cops #keith: this is not trespassing. my dad owned this property & he died unmarried without a will.#keith: i am literally his child and i inherited this land after his death YOU CAN'T ARREST ME FOR TRESPASSING ON MY OWN PROPERTY.#cop: okay well the house is all burned down it's a safety hazard #keith: I AM NOT IN THE HOUSE I AM IN THE SHACK WHICH MEETS MINIMUM SAFETY REQUIREMENTS. GET FUCKED.#cop: okay but you're out after curfew--#keith: is this a game to you? drag me in front of that judge i DARE you. you want to take the ORPHAN to court over CURFEW?#keith: you want to arrest my parents? WHAT PARENTS? everyone in this county knows me as the son of a hero firefighter.#keith: a hero firefighter who died in the line of duty btw. in case you forgot. since i'm an ORPHAN who has no one who CARES about CURFEW.#keith: my dad is dead my mom is gone my brother disappeared in space im 0 for 3 parents-wise. drag me before a judge. make my fucking night #sometimes i answer an ask or make a post specifically so i can do my own separate thing in the tags #i just like talking about law. i'm so excited for law school u guys #keith #lance #lance: (freaking out)#keith: (relaxed because he knows a really good lawyer who specializes in juvenile law)#shitpost #ask #anonymous #otp: we are a good team

228 notes · View notes

wikiangela · 6 months ago

Text

#whether I make friends irl or online everyone always leaves #so what's the point in getting close to people at all #would love to have someone i can always talk to about anything even just my shows #especially since it takes me a while to get comfortable really talking to anyone and open up #but atp im tired of getting attached only to get ghosted out of nowhere #anyway ignore me #just feeling lowkey unwanted and unnecessary and like no one would care if i just disappeared #im making a bigger deal out of this than it is and being in my feels about it lol #should be used to it by now tbh but i am hurt #i think the worst part is not knowing why #like did i say or do smth why so suddenly just drop me #just a regular conversation and then no response - and i tried reaching out a few times after that #anyways i probably shouldn't care this much #but we've been talking for over a year and called each other friends and i got attached sue me #wtf is it about me that ppl always get bored or tired of me #gonna delete this #just in my feels

7 notes · View notes

lixenn · 10 months ago

Text

So, I'm just dozing in my bed waiting for my alarm to fully bring me into the waking world, when all of a sudden my motion controlled kitchen sink springs to life and scares the bejesus out of me.

I live alone.

My sink was very much empty (because I actually did my dishes).

There's only one possible explanation for this.

*cocks shotgun*

Dorm's haunted.

#just rambling #if I suddenly disappear from the face of the earth #then you know the ghost got me #pray for me guys #maybe send me some salt

4 notes · View notes

holydramon · 1 year ago

Text

saw some vague digimon survive spoilers (yes I still haven’t finished it, it’s long and I’m slow) and I am going crazy because I think I pieced together what’s up with haru and miyuki but I can’t tell my sister because spoilers and *holds head in hands and screams*

#ok I will share my prediction. do not tell me if I’m right or wrong pls.#ANYWAY. so haru is the professor right? and the haru we know that’s taking care of miyuki is actually renamon in disguise? idk what exactly #happened to miyuki but I think she only got like… half snatched by the evil hand things. and haru got back to the human world and that was #the light he disappeared in. and that’s why garurumon is so pissed cause haru left him.#also actually maybe miyuki is just a ghost. who fucking knows. either way haru is definitely the professor/renamon??? right??#dramon thoughts #digimon survive spoilers

3 notes · View notes

violetnaps · 2 years ago

Text

havent talked to friendsin so long and im,,, overthibkig everything,,,,,

#cries. still ghosting uni friends AFTER being the one to reach out first #nd i feel so flaky for disappearing for months only to get so excited by bday plans for me but its just #i finally went Outside for the first time since... eid? and ive got one exam down so even if my study habits are still ass im #feeling Better about things #and it just sounds like im happy bc theyre celebrating my bday which. feels so insincere and lame bc a friends in town for the first time #in ages and i havent reached out to them and #i feel like im talking too much and being way too dramatic if i try to explain that #and i know they care theyre so generous with me like iwould be sick of me by now #but i just. aaaaaa 😭#txt #no one look at me #vent

3 notes · View notes

teenagefeeling · 7 months ago

Text

so. this morning i opened facebook (for family drama reasons too complicated to go into here lmao) and it immediately recommended that i send a friend request to the guy who just ghosted me. that was a nice little jumpscare <3 and THEN just now, a person who was from a dating app but i never met up with and i assumed had ghosted me about 2 months ago just. responded??? hello????

#no intentions of dating the latter one like regardless but i had wanted to be friends #(there were just compatibility issues but we got along great)#but now im like. i don't know if i still want a friend who's gonna disappear for so long with no warning like that #u could have mentioned u were gonna leave the country like. before it happened. so i didn't assume u ghosted me y'know #but whatever!#bri babbles

1 note · View note

sttoru · 8 months ago

Note

plsplsplspl soft intimate sex with satoru:(

𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. gojo satoru x female reader. smut, pwp. unprotected. praise kink. spooning position. crēampie. cōckwarming. reader gets called ‘baby, pretty, sweetheart, princess’

“it’s okay, baby, i know,” satoru whispers words of comfort in your ear from behind. one of his arms is wrapped around your waist to keep your body close, the other circles your thigh, holding up your leg so his cock could slide in and out smoothly.

you’ve both just woken up from an afternoon nap, needy for each other’s touch. your lover’s raspy voice paired with his bedhead has been an irresistible combination.

satoru wasted no time in pulling your shorts down and freeing his erection from its confines. he went from rolling his hips against the fat of your ass and fondling your tits under your shirt, to burying his fat dick all the way up your cunt.

he’s so soft—so caring. his butterfly kisses make you drowsy again, the tingly sensations running from your face to your nape, and back down to your shoulders and upper arms. “let it out, yeah—good girl. don’t be shy,” satoru chuckles softly as he grinds his cock upwards, tip prodding at that sweet spot that makes your toes curl.

your eyes are half-lidded and blurry. you’re feeling so good and loved, so pleased and happy to have a partner like him. “right there, ‘toru,” you whimper quietly once you feel the head of his dick rub back and forth on the deepest parts of your velvety insides. satoru happily obliges, hugging your body even tighter to his chest before burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“here, baby?” the white-haired man asks, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine as it ghosts over your skin. he keeps his dick balls deep inside you and switches to slow and shallow strokes, “y’re so pretty. you always know jus’ how to take it. so, so, so good.”

your hands are scrambling to hold onto the white sheets. you can’t physically take the amount of pleasure you’re getting, that inevitable peak gets closer and closer. your hips involuntarily jolt back against satoru, reciprocating his gentle thrusts. a big hand reaches out to yours that’s tugging at the covers, slender fingers intertwining with your own.

“m’sgood,” you mumble incoherently through a soft whimper. your back is positioned in a nasty arch that makes satoru’s dick tingle. he sighs against your nape before allowing his tongue to wet the skin, sucking on the same spot soon after. he does the same to your sensitive ears and neck—covering you with his love while also filling your body with the same.

satoru holds your hand tightly, squeezing it every now and then to reassure you. “i love you so much, y’know that, right?” he says in a gentle tone. he’s confessed his love to you so many times before, though he always makes it sound like it’s his first time doing so.

“i’m never letting you go, ever,” your partner promises before leaning over your shoulder to catch your lips in a kiss. satoru’s tongue sweeps over your bottom lip before rolling around in your warm mouth. his hips don’t stop, cock repeatedly appearing and disappearing inside of your pussy. the pace never escalates to make the moment last longer.

“mhmm— wanna b-be with you forever,” you mutter against his glossy lips, feeling safe and protected in satoru’s embrace like this. all you’re feeling, hearing and smelling is him. that’s what peace is for you. as long as you got him, you’re going to be just fine.

satoru smiles at your words. you feel so perfect around him, your cunt molded to fit his cock whenever he pleases, remembering its shape and allowing it to ruin your insides. “of course, sweets. i’ll treat you so well, ‘kay? you can count on me,” he comforts you with a forehead kiss.

“pretty girl. you’re perfect,” satoru continues to praise you like no other. his free hand runs over the small of your back and back to your thigh, keeping a gap between them so his cock can move a bit more freely. “let me hear your cute moans, c’mon. fuck, y’ turn me on so much,” he sighs, not knowing what he’d do without you.

satoru is obsessed with all of you. the combination of your personality and looks is heavenly. his lips never stop distracting you, his tender kisses covering your entire upper body. the lovey dovey atmosphere in the room never dulls even once.

“ah, ‘toruu, hnghh—can’t last f’ any longer,” you moan, your eyes nearly rolling back. your lover is all the evidence needed to let you know that sex doesn’t have to be rough to be good. he can make you cum for an infinite amount of times by simply grinding his hips against you—changing his techniques every now and then.

rolling his hips in small circles or simply pressing his cock all the way inside your cunt and then prodding at your sweet spots, is all what’s needed to make you feel like you’re on cloud nine.

“aww, my poor baby. can’t hold it in f’me?” satoru pouts before kissing your temples lovingly. he caresses your hip, other hand still not letting go of your hand. there’s such a deep connection between you two—no one can ever sever it. that strong bond feels more intimate when you’re merged into one like this.

“nooo, can’t,” you shake your head and whine about how close you are. satoru nods at your needy words and dips a hand down to rub your clit. his middle and ring finger move around the small bundle of nerves in circles. “khehe, that’s okay. let’s cum together,” he whispers as kisses find their way down your jawline.

you hum in agreement, little moans filling satoru’s ears as you get closer to your climax. your body trembles and heats up, your tummy tingles and tenses up. satoru’s in the same situation as you, his low moans turning into hisses and even quiet whines against the skin of your shoulder.

he holds you close, preparing both of you to reach your long awaited releases. “sh—shit, ‘m g’nna pull out, baby—give me a second,” you hear him whimper under his breath as his hand tightens its grip around yours. he’s nearly crushing your bones.

you don’t give him time to even think of pulling his cock out. you want to relive the sensation of having his seed spread inside of your cunt, overflowing until it’s dirtying the sheets. “no- ‘toru. inside, please,” you beg quietly as your pussy locks around his cock. your walls cling onto his dick, yearning to milk his heavy balls dry of every drop.

satoru gasps and hisses, trying to speak up, but getting overpowered by his own noises of desperation. “fuck, all right, princess. as you wish,” his voice is husky and deep as he pushes his cock in to the base before dumping his load inside you.

ropes of hot cum come out quickly, one after the other, filling you with a hot creamy liquid. you can feel every drop being drained inside your spasming cunt. your own cum mixes with his, creating a lewd mess between your thighs.

“th-thank you,” you whisper tiredly. your body relaxes in satoru’s embrace. you’re trembling due to the intense aftershocks and your lover wastes no time into kissing it better. your forehead is peppered with small pecks, the rest of your face following.

satoru giggles at your fucked out state. he gives you a head pat and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. you can feel him grinning uncontrollably against your skin—the joy emitting from him is contagious.

“any time,” he sighs. you can feel his cock softening after that release, still nestled deep inside of you. he has no intention of pulling out, especially since it’s so comfortable. you let him cum inside you and thus he’ll do everything to keep that hot load buried deep inside your cunt.

you can nearly fall asleep like this with satoru. you have zero complains and simply need to relax after what just happened. perhaps take another nap or two.

the white-haired man kisses your shoulder and rubs your lower tummy, enjoying the softness, “i’m gonna prepare us a warm, relaxing bath in a second. let’s just cuddle some more, baby.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru smut

7K notes · View notes