#Fully dead meets half ghost

[kelvintimeline]

I feel like typically the "dead wife" montage does nothing for me, even when executed very well, because it's often just like "here's this woman you'll never get to meet, she only matters because a man loves her so much and now he's sad."

But the montage wasn't just Mark's recollections. It was her perspective too. He's her dead husband. He's her Eurydice as much as he's his own Orpheus.

This isn't humanizing Gemma for Mark's sake. This is humanizing Gemma for Gemma's sake and it's there not for us to root for Mark, it's there for us to realize we're rooting for Gemma. Every moment Mark reaches out for her, she's reaching back.

The dead wife montage normally deprives a woman her agency, making her a tool for a man's arc, but this episode fully restored Gemma's agency. She's fighting back, she's yearning too. She hurts, she aches, she angers. She fights, she bleeds, she gets frustrated too. And has been before she was ever Ms Casey,

I've never seen a show restore a character's humanity as fully as this single episode did for Gemma. She went from an abstract concept--a wife, a severed employee, a ghost--to a tangible person.

And this was realized so literally as well. We literally see her bleed, we literally watch her eat, her hands cramp up, her teeth ache. It's like watching a hologram become flesh muscle by muscle, bone by bone.

I'm in awe of what they were able to do for her in just 50 minutes. In many ways, I feel I know Gemma better than I know half the cast.

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny laid across his throne, legs planted across the left arm of the ornate chair and back pressed uncomfortably against the right.

"Listen," Danny started, letting his head flop to the side as he glared at a hovering Observant. "This meeting has wasted enough of my time. You all have been arguing for hours and that's without Clockwork slowing things down."

"Your Majesty, this is a matter of great importance. Belial means to overthrow and rule my-our world!"

"I am distinctly aware aware of that," Ancients, Danny couldn't wait to go home and rid himself of the formal speech he'd had to adopt in order to be taken seriously. Well, as seriously as he cared to be taken when sprawled across his throne instead of sitting on it intimidatingly or something. He slowly placed his gaze on the suddenly still demon sitting across from him. "Yet you've proposed fifteen different plans that were all unviable for whatever reasons you've cooked up. Your conclusion is that I must step in. Does your world not have heroes to take care of it?"

The demon- another lord of hell from this Belial’s universe- fell silent.

“Ah. But if they do, they would also take care of you.”

“No- no, that’s not-”

Danny allowed his voice to drop to the artic freeze he knew his core was capable of. "I opened these these doors to allow all of you to present me with reasonable concerns regarding your own universes and realms. What is not on the table for discussion is your petty politics. Do you think I am unaware of your intentions in tattling to me? That I do not know you are trying to use me to further your own position?"

"Your Majesty, I-" The demon growled out, fear slowly coating its expression.

"It no longer amuses me. You think that I am young and easy to manipulate." Danny froze the demon to its chair. It tried to break free, but Danny isn't the High King of the Infinite Realms for nothing. "Bring to me a miserable problem like this ever again, one that could be easily solved if you used even a smidgen of your intelligence, and you will find exactly how I tore Pariah Dark from his throne."

Not that Danny knew how he did it either, he just did it.

"Yes, Your Majesty. My-my apologies."

The room is dead (Danny patted himself on the back for the pun) silent. Some of the Ancients looked bored, like Clockwork who knew Danny would never hurt them, but everyone else looked close to crying. He held eye contact with the demon until it looked away.

When Danny settled back into the throne and allowed his ice to dissipate, the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

"The next item on the agenda is another demon, by the name of Trigon." Clockwork announced, the large piece of paper comically huge next to his currently toddler-like body.

"Another?"

He flicked an amused look at the previous demon, who kept his trap firmly shut.

"He is attempting to take over multiple worlds in an attempt to conquer the universe. I had thought you would be interested in this one, Your Majesty, as he plans to begin with Earth 135."

Danny stilled. That was his Earth. His haunt.

"Does he know of the Realms?"

"Vaguely, I believe."

"Then he should know the rules. I will wait to see if my Earth's heroes are capable to step to the task."

Danny would be a hypocrite if he doesn’t let the heroes of his Earth try first, even if he is one of those heroes.

"Of course," Clockwork grinned at him, fully aware of the shit Danny's about to stir back home. Ah, the wonders of being able to influence the time stream. Perhaps the young Ghost King will finally get some friends, and maybe get those pesky speedsters to stop making his jobs so hard. Cujo yipped at Danny as the King begrudgingly moved onto the next topic.

——

Raven shuddered as she watched the footage of her "brothers" laughing while steering their human "meatbags" around. She turned back to the giant circle of donated blood and herb filled candles.

“This is a nuclear option, don’t you think?” Green Arrow mumbled, clearly not against it by the half hearted way he’d said it. The Star City billionaire nursed his cracked ribs.

“No,” she floated over to where Zatanna and Constantine kneeled, trying to see if they needed help with the inscriptions. “Trigon is coming soon, and my brothers will no doubt find their way here in a moment. We are out of time.”

“Yeah. Plus, we don’t want Raven to be turned into a portal.” Garfield piped up, switching animal forms rapidly.

“No one dies.” Red Robin muttered. His wrist computer was open, monitoring the surroundings of the open field they found themselves uneasily occupying. Batman grunted in affirmation, eyeing the tree line. Every hero except the magical ones were on look out, preparing themselves for one more battle against the two demons that were trying to take Raven and force her into becoming a portal.

“Hey guys, we might want to hurrythisupbecausethey’re kind of close!” Impulse slammed into the room.

“Done.” Zatanna got up, motioning for everyone to step back. In Superman’s case, he floated back.

“Too bad you won’t get to use it,” a voice drawled, dripping with malice and the screams of a thousand souls.

“Come now, little sister. Why fight fate? Be grateful father has deigned to spare you. If not for your dirty blood being useful, you would be dead, little sister. Give up, before our patience runs out alongside the lives of your little pets.” Another, mocking, voice gleefully rumbled.

Raven would rather gouge out her own heart than to claim these two as any type of family.

“You won’t touch them.” Raven snarled, powers rising even as the marks on her body burned a painful red.

“Buy us some time!”

With that, the group of beaten and battered heroes rose to clash against just two demons, for a chance to save their world.

——

The Circle crackled. Danny felt a tug on his core. He followed the thread of the summoning. Oh. It was his haunt. Earth 135. Hm. It tasted of blood. Desperation? A hint of anticipation. Oh, an overload of fear. Could use some more hope, but Danny understood that it was rather hard to season these kinds of summonings with hope.

“Stop.” Danny commanded, straightening in his chair.

“Sire, we have more-”

“There is an issue with my haunt,” with that, he followed the summons.

——

“Ugh,” was the first thing everybody on the frozen battlefield heard. The demons had smacked away many of the heroes, but they all turned as one when the circle lit up a bright green. “Why do you people always use blood? I’m dead, I don’t need any more iron!”

A boy

Raven’s eldest brother let out a hideous rumble. “You fools tried to summon the king, and you got a dead boy. And now, you’ve doomed another.”

Constantine looked resigned, and regretful. “I am so, so sorry,” he whispered. It was just a kid. John might be a lot of things, but even he found summoning dead kids for demons to devour was just a step too far. “Shite, we got the wrong fucking-”

“Hey, man, that’s rude,” the boy snapped back, waving John off.

“Brother, kill the whelp.”

“I vote on not killing the whelp. Not killing at all, really,” the boy stepped out of the massive blood circle, wrinkling his nose at the drying stains.

“This is not one of your pesky democracies, fool.”

In response, the demons lunged at him, ignoring the screams of the surrounding heroes as they shoved their human arms through the boy’s stomach.

“So,” the boy continues, “I heard your dad was after my haunt?”

“Your haunt, whelp? This earth shall be his! And through him, ours!” Raven slammed against the demons with her power, shadows enlarging and tossing them away from the unharmed… ghost boy?

“Is it?”

——

Wow, these demons are so rude. Normally, it’d be a breath of fresh air compared to the stuffy halls of his throne room. But since they’re attacking his haunt…

“Thanks. You’re… Raven, right?”

Raven nodded, arms outstretched in concentration as she held her brothers back.

“You have to go. We’re- we’re sorry you got pulled into this, but it’s not safe here.”

“Eh. It’s cool. You don’t have to do that anymore, by the way.” Danny stepped forward once more, green skin shifting and gliding as everything about him sharpened. He flew at the demons piloting the human shells, catching them around the necks and dragging the demons out of their stolen bodies. The threw them even further away as he floated in the air, a beacon of green and white. Raven thought it looked like hope.

“My name is Phantom, the High King of the Infinite Realms,” let it be known that Danny always had an eye for dramatic entrances. He shifted into something more off, more eldritch, more kingly. The crown flared to life above his head. “You have invaded my haunt. You have challenged me. What do you plead?”

“You’re not-” they said.

“Wrong answer,” Danny flew at them once more, body contorting into something undeniably terrorizing, his maw unhinging and crunching down on the demons with a sound that made the present heroes cringe.

“Ugh,” Danny grunted, turning back and floating peacefully to the group of heroes- Tucker and Sam would be so stoked he met Wonder Woman and Batman!- and chewed rapidly. He shifted back into his normal form. “Eating demons always leaves me with indigestion. And their bones get everywhere up in my teeth!” Danny pulled out a giant femur looking bone from his mouth, despite it not logically fitting in there.

“Right. No eating demons, solid life advice.” Red Robin said.

“Right? So, you’re Raven! It’s nice to meet you! Think you can summon your dear ol’ dad for me?”

“But we summoned you to stop Trigon, not help him come here.” Superman said, frowning.

“One! That summoning circle is wack. Those things you piled up as offerings? Mid. Also, if you thought you could control me with those terribly written spells, you’re dead wrong. And yes, I am making puns about death.” Danny jabs an aggressive finger towards the shabby circle.

“Have you considered that maybe not every being that can be summoned wants a shit ton of useless blood? Like what if I wanted food? And two, how am I supposed to beat up Trigon if he’s still stuck in the prison realm?”

“I have a cup of coffee,” Nightwing offered. “Kid Flash could probably get you food, right?”

“Yep, surethinganythingyouwantyourMajesty.”

“You wouldn’t catch me alive accepting food from a speedster. You people fuck up the timelines so much,” Danny grumbled, crunching on the last of Raven’s brothers. Raven thought she should probably sit down.

“But you’re dead.” Batman said, something about his voice catching the sharp attention of his protégés who all started making cutting motions at him.

“Fair,” Danny pointed at him, grinning. “I’ll take two pizza and Nightwing’s coffee as payment for taking care of your little demon overlord problem. Raven, summon your dad.”

——

Didn’t much like the characterization of this piece but it’s been in my drafts for a while and I needed it out

[bodybaggage]

Monthly Phantom Check Up

Frostbite, Danny’s overly enthusiastic yeti doctor, shows up at the Watchtower for a surprise check-up, and things get awkward fast.

———

The Watchtower was in chaos. It wasn’t a typical day of chaos—no alien invasions or time-traveling villains—but something far more uncomfortable. Frostbite, Danny Phantom’s towering Yeti doctor and self-proclaimed “Master of Ghost Medicine,” had arrived unannounced. His massive, fur-covered frame loomed in the main meeting room as he carefully unpacked a series of glowing, intimidating medical instruments.

Superman leaned over to Wonder Woman, voice low. “Is this... normal?”

Wonder Woman’s brow furrowed in thought. “I don’t think this falls under the usual protocol for supernatural beings.”

Across the room, Danny Phantom stood in all his half-dead glory—or rather, slouched in defeat, wearing a hoodie that seemed far too large for his ghostly frame. He was clearly trying to shrink away from the entire situation, one pale hand covering his face in mortification.

“Frostbite,” Danny hissed in a hushed whisper, “you couldn’t have waited until we got back to the Ghost Zone?”

Frostbite beamed, oblivious to Danny’s pleading. “Nonsense, Great One! Your health is of utmost importance, and I detected a slight imbalance in your ectoplasmic core. It must be addressed immediately!”

Batman stood against the wall, eyes narrowing as he watched the scene unfold. “Ectoplasmic core?”

Frostbite nodded solemnly as he began to prepare an absurdly long, glowing probe. “Indeed, Batman. The Great One is half-ghost, and thus, his core requires regular maintenance. There are many nuances to his biology that need tending to.”

Danny groaned. “Oh, Ancients, kill me now…”

The Justice League—gathered for what they thought was going to be a strategy meeting—could only look on in awkward silence. Aquaman coughed and pretended to adjust his trident. Green Lantern pulled up a holographic projection of the solar system, which he stared at intensely despite not needing to. Flash, of course, was barely containing his laughter, lips twitching every time Frostbite said something ridiculous.

“Now,” Frostbite continued, holding up a glowing vial of something green and gooey, “the first concern is the ectoplasm imbalance. Too much exposure to the Ghost Zone can cause buildup, which leads to... ah, let’s say, irregularities.”

Superman cleared his throat. “Irregularities?”

Frostbite nodded gravely. “Yes. In the human digestive system, it might be compared to... indigestion. But in ghosts, it manifests as random phasing, ectoplasmic leakage, and occasional transformation into a much more terrifying version of oneself.”

Superman blinked. “That sounds... worse than indigestion.”

“Oh, much worse!” Frostbite said brightly, not catching the sarcasm. “Especially during ghost puberty. It’s when the ghost’s core is developing at its most volatile stage.”

Danny’s entire face turned bright red. “Frostbite! Seriously?!”

“Ghost... puberty?” Batman echoed, voice laced with what could only be described as grim fascination.

“Indeed!” Frostbite said, now fully in doctor mode. “The Great One is well past that stage, but it’s important to note that ghost puberty can last several decades for some. Phantom’s transformations would have been wildly unpredictable for years, often triggered by emotional stress or large quantities of fast food.”

Flash actually lost it at that, letting out a snort and quickly covering his mouth. “Sorry, sorry! Just—did you say fast food?”

Danny rubbed his temples. “Yes. I went through my ‘ghost puberty’ eating burgers and stressing about math tests. Can we move on?”

Frostbite chuckled warmly. “Ah, yes. The human world does have its unique challenges for the Great One. Now, the next matter—”

“There’s more?” Danny wailed, half considering flying straight through the floor and never coming back.

“Oh, yes!” Frostbite said with far too much enthusiasm. He turned to the League. “His dual nature also means his ghost half sometimes conflicts with his human immune system. It���s a fascinating process! For example, Danny can phase through objects, but if he catches a human cold, it throws his phasing abilities off and he might accidentally phase into a wall and get stuck.”

The room went silent.

Batman stared at Danny. “You’ve... phased into a wall?”

Danny gritted his teeth, wishing for the sweet release of invisibility. “I was twelve, okay? And yes, I got stuck. It was fine.”

“Mostly fine,” Frostbite corrected, waving around a spectral thermometer. “There was that one time we had to extract you from a particularly thick brick wall in Amity Park. Took several hours.”

Wonder Woman, who had remained silent up until this point, exchanged a concerned glance with Superman. “Is this something we should... prepare for?”

Danny shot them both an exasperated look. “No. I’m not going to phase into the Watchtower’s walls. Probably.”

“Unless his ectoplasmic levels are low,” Frostbite added cheerfully. “Which is why this check-up is vital!”

As Frostbite pulled out what looked suspiciously like a ghost-themed blood pressure cuff, Danny gave up. “I’m going to die—again.”

Flash wiped away a tear of laughter, his shoulders still shaking. “This is the best day of my life. I didn’t know ghost puberty was a thing.”

“I’ll send you my research papers,” Frostbite said kindly. “There’s a great deal of fascinating biology involved!”

Danny, ignoring everyone, shot a glare at Batman, who was watching all this with far too much interest. “Don’t even think about adding this to my file.”

Batman didn’t respond, though his fingers twitched ever so slightly toward his utility belt.

Frostbite, oblivious to the ongoing awkwardness, finished prepping his tools. “Now, Great One, if you could just sit still. This next part involves extracting ectoplasmic residue from your pores—”

“I’m phasing through the floor,” Danny muttered, promptly sinking halfway through the Watchtower’s pristine floor, only his head remaining visible. “See you guys never.”

The Justice League stood in stunned silence as Frostbite packed away his tools with a serene smile.

“Very well,” Frostbite said. “I’ll schedule the next check-up for next month. Goodbye, Justice League!”

And with that, the massive Yeti doctor vanished through a portal, leaving the League standing there, trying to make sense of what they had just witnessed.

Superman finally turned to Danny, whose head was still poking out of the floor.

“Danny... you okay?”

Danny didn’t respond, choosing instead to fully disappear beneath the floor.

Flash wheezed. “I love that kid.”

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[I only have 30 pounds in my bank account] - Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)

Mafia!TF141*F!Reader, but only Soap and Ghost in this chapter unless I extend this

chapter 2

You’re just trying to fulfill your dream, plus survive with the money you earn with your shop, but you start questioning if this is a good idea, maybe you should just listen to your friend and be a 9-5 worker, sitting in front of a laptop the whole day.

This isn’t a good location to open a tea shop, your little shop will rather become a place for dealing drugs or getting extorted in the first month. The area is fully ruled by the mafia, hence the cops couldn’t do anything here, but it makes the rent extremely low, which you’re able to afford with money you saved during school, and have a tiny shop that can barely squeeze in more than 8 people.

Looking at the scene playing in your shop for the fifth time this month, you stare at the people fighting and break the cup with dead eyes. You want to shout, to kick these guys' ass out of here or hit them with your broom, yet you glance at their muscles and the knives in their hand –  probably killing every day as work out, to your opposite one because you slump onto the bed once you close the shop and go upstairs, you choose to remain silent as the yelling only become louder.

Maybe you should find the mafia boss or some henchmen and give them half of your income to prevent the mayhem, but first, you don’t even know who actually rules this fucking place; second, you doubt they will have interest in your skimpy bank account. The only information you have is the mafia ruling here called ‘141’, since it’s an open secret to residents here.

“What are ye arseholes doin’?”

Fuck, here comes another one, or two as you spot the man with a balaclava behind the mohawk man who's speaking. They are tall, muscular and built like bricks. Grown like giraffes either, you complement when you need to crook your neck up to look at them stepping into your shop as if it's their backyard.

but the chaos halts immediately as you watch your ‘customers’ seem shocked with terror at the men.

You pretend you’re deaf and attempt to bury yourself in your counter. Please don’t kill me I didn’t hear a goddamn word and didn’t see you threatening them. You recite your defense as you scrub at the same tea cup till the distinct accent from the mohawk man catches you off guard that you almost drop it.

“I guess it’s already clean, lass.” A smirk appears on his face as he points at the cup.

“Wh– what do you want?” 

“Calm down, jus’ want te have some tea.”

“I only have 30 pounds in my bank account.”

“We’re just sayin’ we want tea.” The taller man speaks for the first time after coming in, and it startles you but forces your brain to function at the same time.

Ah, they aren’t here for money. You finally get what they’re talking about.

“Isn’t it supposed te be a tea shop here? One cup for him, and give me a cup of coffee.”

“Oh, of course. What kind of tea would you like, Sir?” You shift slightly to meet the other man’s eyes, and you want to shiver under his cold eyes.

“Just give him whatever you recommend.” 

They round over the glass scattering on the floor and take a seat closest to your counter after you nod at them.

While boiling the water, you sneak a glimpse at them, and the shape of guns covered by their clothes are unignorable as you scold yourself to stop looking at them, or the bigger guy might stab your eyes, but you still curse whole-heartedly in mind when the Scottish accent man meet your eyes with his azure ones and shines you a grin.

Should just quit staring, or you shouldn’t open this shop at all. Regretting your decisions as you turn back and focus back on making their drink, you’re able to recognize them staring at you from the periphery of your vision. Is it too late to kneel down and beg for your life right now?

You still perfectly make their orders and bring them the drinks, even though you’re sweating internally. At least don’t mess it up, and your confidence in your tea and coffee isn’t born from nothing, as you notice the man with the skull balaclava takes a sip first, then raises his eyebrow, added with a side glance at you.

“Haven’t seen him amazed by tea in years, it must be very good.” The mohawk man whistles as he sips at his coffee and gives an approving nod too.

“Thank you…” Your ego shouldn’t be boosted by mafias, but you still relax a bit knowing you didn't screwed up.

“When did ye open ‘is shop?” The man asks while the other continues drinking his tea, but seemingly taking in the conversation too.

“About two months ago."

"That’s why we didn't know about it before…” He taps at the table twice before shooting you another question “Got blokes like those in yer shop earlier often?”

Death sentence is served to your front, that’s what you think you hear. Is it better to say yes or no? Judging by the fact those people are their minions, you’re not sure if saying yes is indicating they haven’t controlled them appropriately.

“Tell us the truth” 

“Yeah, it’s the fifth time this month.” Swallowing, you confirm. Lies aren’t meaningful, and surely they’re able to pierce any veil with those scrutinizing stares and keen minds.

You watch them sharing a glance, and Soap takes out a pen along with a piece of paper, and starts scribbling on it.

“Here, call this number when you run in trouble, aye?" He shoves the paper into your grasp “I’m Soap, call him Ghost.”

"It’s a nice shop, we’ll come back soon.”

Your little shop drops into peace again as your customers leave, and you gaze at the generous tip lying on your counter, to the paper in your palm.

A number is written on it, with a big badge of ‘141’ beside it.

Oh shit, so your shop just became the most far-flung mafia’s property without you knowing.

[jaxon-exe]

Happy Death Day

So I saw a fully dead au for Danny and got inspired and I’m about to make it y’all fucks problems.

If there was one thing the inter league agreed on, it was that they loved Phantom. Even though some would never admit it Batman the kid had a special place in all their hearts. He’d been there with them from the very formation of the team. The forever youngest amongst them always managed to cheer them up no matter what they were facing. That’s why when his death day rolled around again Flash had an idea. He wanted to do something special for the kid. Lord knowns he deserves it. The problem was what to do.

They had already learnt from a lengthy lecture from Constantine that u don’t gift ghost presents on their death days. It was seem as rude. So that ruled that out but it wasn’t the only option.

“Best thing you can do is pay respects at his grave.” John grumbled half awake after Barry finally managed to track the fucker down. “A big thing with ghost is being remembered and all that. So leave some flowers or some shit.”

“Sweet!! Thanks John.” And in a flash he was gone… and in another flash he was right back. “Wait do you know where his grave is?”

John looked at him flatly. “No idea.” Then slammed the door in his face.

Whelp, so much for this being easy. It didn’t matter to much however for the very next day was a league meeting. One Danny was off world for and so would miss. A meeting that was being held by the one man that knows everything! He’d surely know where Danny’s buried!

“I don’t know.”

The room went quiet as they all turned to the Bat. All in various states of shock over the fact he even knew those words.

Flash took a second to reboot his brain. “W-what do you mean you don’t know?!” Because surely not! Batman knows everything! How does he not know where the grave of one of his teammates are?

The man sighed, typing away at his computer before pulling up a file onto the larger screen for everyone to see. “Danny Fenton went missing in the 80’s at 14 years old.” A photo of the kid was enlarged. It was weird seeing him like this. With black hair and blue eyes. A healthy red flush on his face. He looked so alive. “A week later was the first sightings of Phantom. Years after, it was ruled a cold case.”

“And you just let it go?” Diana walked up beside them, glaring into the back of Batman’s head. “You knew that boy was probably kidnapped, most likely murdered and you let it go?”

“No.” As ever he didn’t seemed bothered by the accusation. “I asked Phantom. He didn’t say much but did assure me it wasn’t a murder. It was an accident and no one was at fault.” The silence that took over the room this time was different. Full of melancholy. They all knew Danny died. Dead young at that. It was another thing to hear this. One by one each of them coming to haunting realisation that if his death was never report, he most likely died alone.

“So what else have you found?” For the first time in this whole conversation, Bruce turned to glare at Clark. “Oh come on Bats. Your, you! You wouldn’t leave it at that. So what else did you find?”

For most the sigh he gave would have sounded the same as the others but to those in the room, those that knew him so long, they could hear slight embarrassment at getting called out. He turned back to the screen, pulling up a list of names and a map. “Nothing much. I’ve searched the area around Amity Park and couldn’t find anything. I have a list of family members and friends to question but.” He trailed off.

“But Batman can’t look into this.” Canary continued for him. “If you were to start poking around a 30 year old cold case people might figure the connection back to Phantom.” Batman nodded with a grunt.

Seemed they reached another dead end. Maybe he would have to think of a different way to celebrate Phantom’s death day after all.

“Well,” Flash turned his attention when Supers spoke up again. “Batman might not be able to. But Clark Kent can.” Everyone’s eyes turned to him. “I mean I am a reporter. I can say I’m doing a passion project on old cold cases or something.”

“Oh yeah!” Hope filled Barry’s smile. “I can help to!”

“But your a chemist?” Diana cut in.

“A forensic chemist! Who better to help with cold cases than a guy that works in criminology?” The others were reluctant to admit he had a point.

They all knew Bruce enough to know his next sigh as one of exhaustion. Without a word he printed the list of names and contacts for the two, knowing there was no stopping them now.

“Sweet!! Thanks bats!! Let’s go!” The page was pulled from Barry’s hands before he could make a run for it.

“Hold on.” Clark stopped him while looking over the list. “It’d probably be a good idea to give them a call first. Ask if they’re even willing to answer questions.”

He deflated. Annoyed by how much sense that make. “Alright then.” He grumbled.

It didn’t take as long as he expected to get a response. The first two were from Sam Manson and Tucker Foley, only hours after Clark sent them an email. They were Danny’s best friends and the last people to see him alive. Unfortunate, the response was ‘no’. One using a lot more colourful language than the other but a no all the same. It was a two days later they got another response. This one from Dr Jasmine Fenton, Danny’s older sister. This time it wasn’t a no.

That what lead them here. In the waiting area of Dr Feton’s office. “You think the long wait is to psych us out?” Barry asked as it approached the hour mark.

Clark didn’t look up from his magazine as he responded. “Don’t think so little of her. She’s really busy.”

“Oh no, that’s not me thinking little of her.” He picked up one of the fidget toys on the table next to him. “She’s a psychologist, a top psychologist. This is totally her trying to psych us out.”

“Mr Clark, Mr Allen.” They looked over to the door that opened to their right. A tall, red haired woman stood with half a foot in the doorway. “Sorry for the wait. Come on through.” 

The office was really not what they expected. Rather than the clean, professional look that Canary has this office had a more welcoming feeling. It’s large armchairs and sofa paired with a light green rug made it look more like a seating room if you ignore the desk in the corner. “I apologise for having this meeting at my office. It was the only time I could fit you in.” Jasmine sat on the armchair closest to her desk, inviting the others to seat where they please with a wave at the over chairs. “Now, you wanted to talk about Danny?”

“Yes,” Clark sat up. “We have been wanting to look into cold cases for a while, as a passion project. Seeing if we can find out more and maybe even get some answers. When we saw Danny’s case it seemed like a good one to start with.”

She gave a hum of acknowledgement. “And why would that be? I understand that some people have a fascination with old cases but Danny disappeared over 30 years ago. Plus there has been nothing found since then. If your goal is to solve the case then I’m sorry but I don’t really think that would be possible.” 

“Well you never know until you try.” Clark smiled back. “And we plan to publish our findings as well. So even if we don’t solve it someone, perhaps who knows more information or can find new information, can.”

His words really didn’t seem to have the effect they were hoping for. Rather than looking hopeful at the idea of finding out what happened to her brother, Dr Fenton face took on a stone cold look.

“Mr Clark.” Barry was really happy he stayed quiet in this. Even without the dead tone turned at him, he still felt weirdly intimidated. “I am here talking with you in my free time, as myself not a psychologist. So I’m gonna to drop all pretenses and be blunt.” She learnt forward on her chair. Despite the fact that she was still seated, the two heroes were suddenly reminded of the fact that Jasmine was 7’1. They also learnt that the intimidation was intentional. “Why should I tell you anything if you have not said a single honest word since you stepped through my door?”

Barry looked at Clark for answers but got non. It was quite shocking to see the seasoned journalist and part time superhero at a loss for words. In fact Barry had never seen it before at all. He turned back to Jasmine’s cold gaze as she stared them down before shaking her head. “If that’s all. Ill have to ask you to-“

“We want him to be remembered.” Clark looked over as Barry said the words before he could even think them. “You’re right. This case is cold. There’s no way we could solve it but that doesn’t mean he should be forgotten.” He took a breath as his eyes met hers. Her face was still blank but in a less cold way. More neutral than silent rage.

“Danny was a kid. A good kid. A kid that most likely died alone and scared and…” he looked down the hide the tears in his eyes. He didn’t like thinking about how Phantom died. Didn’t like to think about how the happy, brave, strong kid just died. Alone, hurt and scared. It broke his heart. “He deserves to be remembered.”

For a moment all that was heard was the ticking of the wall clock. Clark glanced between the two, Barry stilling looking down whereas Dr Fenton looked off to the side. A moment more passed before Jazz sighed in defeat. “Our parents were scientist. Though, no one took them seriously.” She leant back in her chair, pulling her glasses off to rest them on her head. “It made sense, I mean. They studied ghost. Even if their inventions were amazing, especially for the times, no one took them seriously.”

Barry looked up, giving her his full attention as she sighed again. “They thought that if they could just get proof. Physically proof that ghost were real, that they lived in the dimension right next to ours, that people would finally believe them.” She looked over to a small cabaret, tucked into the corner of the room. “So, they tried to build a machine. One that would give them proof. They built a portal to that world.”

Clark was stunned. Inter dimensional travel was something the leagues still struggled with today. If they had been successful, way back in the 80’s they really must have been ahead of the times.

“It didn’t work though, not at first.” Barry was enraptured by the tale as his mind went faster that his feet did most days. What did this have to do with Danny? Why was she telling them this? The more he thought the more he started not likely the conclusions he reached. “Then one day, about 2 weeks after the failure, Danny’s friends were over and wanted to have a look. We lived in a small town, you see. The crazy scientists were the most interesting thing that towns seen in years.” She huffed out a bitter laugh.

“Danny went with them. While our parents  were never the best at lab safety, we did still know the basics.” A cold dread washed over Barry. Images of a different lab, of different lacks safety regiments came to mind. “When they wanted to have a look in the portal, he said he wanted to check it out first. Make sure it was safe. So put on a hazmat suit and went in.”

He felt sick. He always found it kind of weird that Danny wore a strange suit. Had assumed that because ghosts can alter their appearance that Danny had simply chose to wear a suit like them. It never really fit though. The suit didn’t look like theirs. To loose fitting. Made of rubber instead of spandex or Kevlar.

“Then he tipped… and it turned on.” Clark’s breath hitched in his throat. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t this. “I ran down when I heard Sam and Tuck screaming. They were hysterical. Took about an hour to calm them down enough to understand what happened.” She sniffed as tears pooled at her eyelids.

“We thought maybe he was just somewhere else. I mean it was a portal, there had to be another side. Somewhere Danny ended up. I guess we were right in a way. Just not the way we wanted.” Jazz sighed as she looked down at her lap. “We didn’t want to get in trouble, didn’t want Danny getting in trouble when he got back. So we said he just disappeared. Hoping he’d show up again and it be fine.” She voice cracking as her lip trembled. “Then Phantom showed up and I just knew. I knew that was Danny.”

She looked up at the two, a pleading look mixed with her grief. “Then mom and dad attacked him. They thought ghost were evil and I… I was scared. I didn’t know what they would do if they knew it was Danny. I didn’t know.”

Clark leant forward to place a hand on the woman’s knee. “You were a kid too. You were just doing what you thought was right.” His soft words seemed to calm her as she wiped her tears.

“I know. I know that now but sometimes.” She sighed again. “Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if they knew. If Danny could have gotten the send off he deserved.”

The three sat there for a moment. Sorting through their emotions when one thought resurfaced in Barry’s mind. “Did you ever… find his body. You said it was a portal right? Does that mean?”

Jazz shook her head. “No. Maybe if he had just walked through it or died next to it but.” She looked over to the cabinet again. “The portal opened on top of him. Through him. There was nothing left to find…”

The three sat in the silence for a moment. Barry didn’t know what to think other than just absolute heart brake. What he had learnt from John about ghost came to mind, how important graves were, how important being remembered was. All these things that Danny never got.

“Did he ever have a funeral?” The info Bat’s gave them didn’t mention one but there was still a chance. Whatever small hope Barry had was shattered as Jazz shook her head. She sighed, before standing and walking over to the cabinet.

“Mom and Dad refused to believe he was gone. They thought a ghost took him for some reason.” She scoffed. “We did the best we could for him. Sam, Tucker and I.” She opened the cabinet to show a shrine of sorts. Danny’s photo sitting next to a small vase of flowers, a toy rocket ship sitting between them. “It never felt like enough though.”

Barry walked up beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. An idea beginning to form. “Well, we can change that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was good to be back. Don’t get him wrong, Danny loved going on space missions. I mean, it was space!! But earth would always be his home. Plus, he managed to make it just in time to. Letting out a happy chip, he flew through the walls of the watch tower into the main meeting room.

“Happy death da- where is everyone?” They should be here. For years now, ever since the league learnt of death days, they made it a priority to be at the watch tower to celebrate with him. So where was everyone?

“Just in time Danny!” Looking off to the side he saw flash. Well, Barry he guessed, as the man was out of uniform. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

“Late for what?” He asked as the speedster grabbed his hand and lead him to the Zata tubes.

“A surprise! Just for you.” Barry smiled, really hopping Danny did like this and he hadn’t made the wrong decision. A bright flash later and they were stepping out into the streets of Amity. A car waiting for them just ahead that Barry coaxed Phantom into.

Danny had no clue what was going on but just decided to enjoy the ride. Looking out the window at his haunt. The closer they got to the destination the more people he spotted. Dash and Paulina, Wes and Mikey even Mr Lancer were all there. Dressed in black and heading to the same place.

“It’s alright if you want to stay invisible for this.” Barry’s voice pulled his eyes way from the window. “Or if you want to reveal yourself, that’s fine to.” He smiled at the kid.

“I still don’t know what ‘this’ is.” He gestured as the car parked.

“You’ll see.” Was the only response he got. Deciding to be safe, he turned invisible as he followed Barry out of the car and into the graveyard. A small flicker of hope building in his chest.

It was a hope he had given up on a long time ago. When it became clear his parents would never accept the truth. He tried to push it away. Not wanting to face the hurt and disappointment again. Part of his wanted to leave, not wanting to sit through someone else getting what he never did. Just as he was thinking that however, they came up to the gathering of people and he saw it.

A closed coffin above an empty grave. Flowers adorning every part of the lid around a single photo frame. A frame with his face on it. Tears weld in his eyes as he looked at the photo, then to the people around him. There was so many of them. His old classmates, grown with some of them having their children standing beside them. His neighbours stood off to the side next to a woman he recognised as the owner of the corner shop near his school. The now retired directive he followed years ago when the man investigated his ‘disappearance’. A man, which he now recognised as one of the kids Jazz used to babysit, stood with his wife. All of them mingling amongst each other and various league members. A icy breath drew his eyes up, revealing hundreds of ghost, hidden from human eyes. Old enemies and friends alike all gathered around. Johnny and Kitty, boxy and lunch lady, even Skulker was there.

As he fought to hold back his sobs a voice cleared from beside the coffin. Looking over he saw his sister standing at the head of it in a black dress suit. Sam to her right, looking right at home in her gothic inspired funeral gown and Tucker on her left, tugging at his uncomfortable tie. A hush fell over the crowed as everyone turned to Jazz as she began to speak.

She spoke of him. Of his life. Tears weld in her eyes as a bitter sweet smile graced her face. She spoke of the boy who wished to see the stars. Of the brother she lost to soon. The one she will always hold in her heart and memories for the rest of her days.

Danny sat on the coffin, His coffin, as he listened. A wobbly smile on his lips and tears ran down his face as he listened to her. He sat and listened as Sam stepped forward and spoke as well, then as Tucker did the same. A sense of peace, one he didn’t know he was missing, came over him as he heard their goodbyes.

He looked over the crowd as the speeches came to an end. His eyes finding Bruce, tucked away in the back with sunglasses on. They must have had thermal vision as Bruce was able to meet his eyes. A small nod was given to the young man. While Bruce wouldn’t reveal someone else secret, he trusted Danny to make his own choice.

Look back at his sister and friends. He knew the choice he had to make. With barely a thought he dropped his invisibility. Hushed gasped was heard throughout the crowd as the thing they all suspected was confirmed. The ghost child that had save all of them more times than they could count was the very child all of them had knew. The boy so many of them felt they had failed was the same as the boy that had protected them for decades.

Their hero was their Danny.

Jazz smiled through her tears at her brother. Her arms lifted in a silent invitation that he quickly accepted. Flying into his sister’s arms as his core sung out in joy. A breeze chilled the air as snow began to fall.

Pulling away from his sister, he caught sight of a covered stone behind her. Seeing what had got his attention, Jazz stood to the side as Sam removed the black cloth draped over it.

It was beautiful. Black stone polished to a shine with white flecks scattered about it in a way they reflected the night sky. On the face of it, caved with the utmost care was his name, along with a simple message.

‘Gone but never forgotten.

Fly high, Danny.’

[lanaroff]

House of Broken Hearts- Chapter 1

Paring: Wanda Maximoff and Reader

Prologue.

Warning: Angst

The world felt different. The air had a strange heaviness to it, thick with time and the weight of years lost. The city had changed, not just in its physical structure but in the way its people moved—like everyone was trying to adjust to something they didn’t fully understand. It had been five years. Five years since the mission. Five years since the last kiss, the last touch, the last promise whispered between you and Wanda Maximoff.

You had never imagined that you wouldn’t return to her. The mission had been long, but the time away was always supposed to be temporary. You told yourself you’d be back. You had to be back. And now you were.

Stepping into the Avengers compound for the first time in half a decade, the familiar walls seemed foreign. The faces around you were different, older, their eyes holding more secrets than when you’d left. You nodded to a few familiar faces, but nothing felt the same. Not the same as it had been when you left, when everything was easier, when you were just… together.

It was supposed to be temporary. But nothing ever is.

You had been briefed, but the words they’d said to you didn’t truly hit you until now. “She’s about to marry Vision,” Fury had said as you arrived, like it was something casual, just a fact of life. But those words were like a punch to the gut.

Wanda. About to marry Vision.

The thought clung to you, echoing in your head, refusing to leave. Your heart pounded in your chest, a rhythmic reminder that the life you thought you were coming back to didn’t exist anymore.

It was like the floor had dropped out from under you.

Your breath hitched, your hands shaking as you tried to make sense of it. Five years. Five long years of separation, and she had moved on. That reality hadn’t hit you yet—not until this moment.

You wandered the halls of the compound like a ghost trying to find the briefing room, each step carrying you deeper into a nightmare you didn’t know you were walking toward. The old familiar places—the sparring rooms, the kitchen, the common areas—felt empty like they had all been forgotten. Even the air was different, colder, somehow.

And then you saw them.

Wanda was standing in the hallway, her hair flowing like fire in the low light, her posture elegant and composed. She was talking to Vision, her fingers gently touching his arm as she spoke. The sight should have been comforting, a sign of the life she had made for herself, but it wasn’t. The way Vision stood close to her, so casual in his affection, stung in a way you didn’t expect.

You should have been prepared for this moment. After all, the mission had been long. You knew the world didn’t stop spinning while you were gone. People changed. They moved on.

But seeing them together—seeing Wanda like that, about to marry him—it shattered you in a way you hadn’t been ready for.

But they didn't saw you, and you kept it that way.

Moments later, you entered the meeting room where Fury was briefing the remaining Avengers. The room went silent the moment you entered. Eyes locked onto you, faces frozen in disbelief. Five years of absence. Five years of presumed death. You could feel the weight of their stares—their shock, their confusion. Everyone was silent.

Except for Natasha.

"Where the hell have you been?" Natasha’s voice rang out, cutting through the silence with razor-sharp accusation. "Everyone thought you were dead. Do you have any idea what we’ve been through? What she has been through?" She was seething, every word laced with hurt and frustration.

You flinched but didn’t respond. Natasha was always the first to speak her mind, but there was no mistaking the anger in her eyes. She was angry at you for abandoning them. For abandoning Wanda. And maybe she had every right to be.

“Calm down, Natasha,” Tony’s voice was much quieter but still firm, as if sensing the tension in the room. He looked at you, his face softening. “It’s good to see you back. We didn’t know what happened to you. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

"Please," Steve added with a steady voice, though there was a lingering look of concern in his eyes. “We’re just glad you’re alive.”

But the truth was, none of them knew the real reason you were back. They had no idea what you’d been through in the past five years. None of them knew the story behind your disappearance—the Hydra supersoldiers you’d discovered, the brutal battles you fought. They didn’t know what you had sacrificed just to be standing here.

None of them knew about Wanda. About the promises you’d made.

As Fury began his briefing, you barely registered the words he said. Hydra was still a major threat, you had discovered three super-soldiers they’d brainwashed, and there was more work to be done. But none of it mattered. Not when your mind kept circling back to that image of Wanda, standing next to Vision.

What did she think of you now? What had happened to the woman you loved?

Then, without warning, Wanda walked into the room "Sorry we are late." She said as she entered the room with an apologetic look on her face. But soon that face turned into a completely different thing. She was seeing a ghost, and she was not sure if everyone was seeing the same thing. You were there. The person she loved. The person she thought she had lost forever. The person she had mourned night after night for 3 whole years.

"Wanda…" you breathed, a whisper escaping your lips before you could stop yourself. Your voice cracked, betraying the grief you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel until now.

She was frozen, her eyes locking onto yours. For a split second, there was a flicker of recognition, of something unspoken. But then it faded, replaced by something else—something more distant. The familiar warmth that used to light her eyes whenever she saw you was gone.

Her lips parted, and for a moment, she said nothing. Then, her gaze shifted slightly, and she gave a small, almost apologetic smile. "You’re back," she said, her voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place. Relief? Guilt? Regret? She didn’t sound surprised, which only added to the pit in your stomach.

"Yeah," you replied hoarsely, trying to keep your voice steady. "I am."

There was a long silence between the two of you, an uncomfortable pause where neither of you knew how to bridge the gap that had formed. Vision stood next to her, stoic as ever, but you could see the tension in his posture. He knew. He had to know.

“Vision,” you said, turning to him with a forced smile. "It’s good to see you."

"Likewise," Vision replied with a polite nod, but you saw the way his eyes flickered toward Wanda. He didn’t say anything more, but the air between the three of you was thick with unspoken words.

Wanda’s gaze flickered back to you, and for a moment, you swore you saw something—something deep and familiar. But it was gone before you could register it fully. She smiled again, but this time it didn’t reach her eyes. It was the kind of smile you give someone when you don’t want to hurt them but know that you already have.

"How’ve you been?" Wanda asked, her voice soft, though there was an edge to it. "We weren’t sure… I didn’t know when you’d be back."

"I’m still adjusting," you said, struggling to keep your emotions in check. "It’s been a long time. Five years is a long time."

Her expression faltered for a second, and you saw a flash of something—maybe guilt, maybe regret—pass through her eyes. But it was quickly masked. "I can’t imagine," she murmured. "But we all had to… adapt, didn’t we?"

You could hear the weight of those words, the implication hanging heavily in the air. We all had to adapt.

You wanted to ask her—did she miss you? Did she ever think about the life you had built together, or had she simply let go, buried you in the past like some forgotten dream? You wanted to scream at her, to demand answers. How could she just move on like this? How could she marry someone else when she had promised—

No. Don’t go there.

You shook your head slightly, the self-control slipping away.

Vision stepped forward then, his voice breaking through the tension. "Wanda, perhaps we should give her some space."

Wanda nodded softly, her eyes never leaving yours.

"Yeah, I think that’s a good idea," you said quietly. And with that, both Vision and Wanda left the room, leaving you standing there, trying to piece together the fragments of a life you had thought you could come back to. But that state of trance was broken by a harsh voice.

"What did you expect?" Natasha asked, her voice full of anger and sadness. She was happy to see you again, but a part of her felt betrayed that you were alive and you never told her. She needed to understand why you were gone for so long. Why you couldn't come back? Why this mission was so important that you kept yourself away from your family for 5 whole years? "She thought you were dead. We all did. And you just come back as if nothing had happened?"

"You have no idea what happened Nat." You said with a scared look on your face. A part of you was mad that things had not stayed as you left them. But was there really someone to blame other than you?

"Don't give me that bullshit Y/N!" She said as she grabbed her things with such fury that you swear that she could break them. "You should've stayed dead."

And with that, she left the room.

You didn’t know what you had expected to find when you returned, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. You couldn’t stomach the thought of facing Wanda, of seeing the woman who once meant everything to you standing by another man’s side. Or facing Natasha, who could even see you in the eye. From all the Avengers, you thought that maybe she could comprehend what you had done. The mission comes first, you were both taught. But, they were all hurt, and you were to blame.

"Ugh! That was hard to watch." Tony said, trying you lighten the mood. "Just give them time kid, I'm glad you are back."

Everyone left the room and you were left standing in the aftermath, wondering if there was any chance of finding your way back to your old life.

[novalityy]

No going back.

⋆·˚ ༘*🔭 In which a call is way more concerning than it seemed.⋆·˚ *🔭

Warnings *ੈ✩‧₊˚ - Blood, fighting, arguments, framing, crying, torture, taskforce 141 being mean, angst, comfort later.

Call of duty taskforce 141 x reader.

Hi, lol i'm back. Sorry I deleted my blog all of a sudden. I had to go for a long time, it's been a year? I'm going to rewrite the original story since i kindaa... deleted them..IM SORRY.

Blood trickled from your forehead, warm and sticky, as the dull ache in your skull pulsed with your racing heartbeat. The throbbing in your head was intense, but it paled in comparison to the crushing weight of betrayal in your chest. You groaned, instinctively trying to lift a hand to your temple, only to find your wrists bound tightly together. The rough bite of the restraints against your skin pulled you fully into the present. Forcing your eyes open, you took in your surroundings. The room was unmistakable—your base’s interrogation chamber.

Empty, save for you.

Your mind raced, piecing together the fragmented memories of how you ended up here. When you answered Price’s call this morning, this was the last place you expected to find yourself.

The morning had started innocuously enough. Your phone buzzed insistently, dragging you from the haze of sleep. Grumbling, you fumbled for it under your pillow, blindly swiping to answer.

“Hello?” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

Silence.

You pulled the phone away to glance at the screen. Price. His name stared back at you, ominous and foreboding.

“Price?” you tried again, sitting up now.

His voice, when it came, was clipped and cold. “I expect you at the base in 30 minutes.”

Before you could respond, the line went dead. You stared at the phone, unease curling in your stomach. Price was rarely one for pleasantries, but the venom in his tone was unmistakable.

Shaking off the lingering fog of sleep, you swung your legs out of bed and padded to the bathroom. The mirror reflected the toll of your last mission—dark circles under your eyes, a faint bruise along your jaw. You sighed, splashing cold water on your face before pulling on a pair of blue jeans and a plain white shirt.

Breakfast could wait. The urgency in Price’s voice left little room for delay. Grabbing your keys, you locked up and drove to base, the gnawing anxiety in your gut growing stronger with every mile.

As you arrived, the atmosphere was palpably different. Conversations hushed as you walked past, and familiar faces turned away, avoiding your gaze. The unease in your stomach churned into something darker.

By the time you reached Price’s office, your nerves were frayed. Knocking on the door, you pushed it open and froze. Four men were inside, their expressions grim. Gaz wouldn’t meet your eyes, staring down at his feet. Soap’s usual easygoing demeanor was absent, his jaw set tightly. Ghost loomed in the corner, his unreadable mask doing little to hide the tension radiating from him. And Price… Price’s eyes burned with something you couldn’t quite name but feared all the same.

“So?” you asked, your voice wavering despite your efforts to keep it steady. “You called me here. What’s going on?”

Price exhaled a cloud of smoke, his cigar nearly crushed in his grip. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and dangerous. “Drop the act. Tell me everything. Now.”

Confusion twisted your features. “What are you talking about?”

Price’s response was immediate and explosive.

He slammed his hand down on the desk, the force rattling the items atop it.

“I AM NOT IN THE MOOD FOR GAMES, OPERATOR! CONFESS, AND I MIGHT SPARE YOU HALF OF WHAT’S COMING!”

The words hit you like a physical blow. Operator. Not your name. Whatever this was, it was serious.

You glanced at the others, searching for an ally, but found none. Even Soap looked away when your eyes met his.

“Please,” Soap said softly, his voice almost pleading. “Just tell him. It’ll be worse if you don’t, bonnie.”

Your throat tightened. “Tell him what?” you demanded, anger starting to edge into your voice. “If this is some sick joke, it’s not funny. I don’t know what you think I’ve done, but—”

The door creaked open, cutting you off. A young cadet stepped inside, tall and blonde, his sharp blue eyes locking onto you with cold calculation. Recognition flickered—you’d seen him around the base, but you’d never exchanged more than a few words.

Price gestured to him. “Tell her.”

The cadet’s voice was steady, rehearsed. “I have proof that you’ve been leaking critical intel to Makarov.”

The room spun. You stared at him, then at the others, waiting for someone to laugh, to call this out for the absurdity it was. But no one did. Instead, Ghost’s voice cut through the silence, cold and sharp.

“We believe him.”

Your gaze snapped to him, disbelief written across your face. “Simon…”

“Don’t call me that,” he growled. “We’re not that familiar anymore.”

The words were a knife to the chest. You turned to Price, desperation creeping into your tone. “Show me the proof.”

He slammed a file onto the desk. You snatched it up, flipping through the pages. The evidence was damning—emails, login records, reports. It painted a picture so convincing you almost doubted yourself. Almost.

But the dates didn’t line up. The locations didn’t match. It was sloppy work, something you’d never do if you were guilty.

You threw the file back onto the desk. “You seriously think I did this?”

“Yes,” came the unanimous response.

Anger and heartbreak warred within you. “You’ve known me for years! You’re taking the word of some cadet over me?”

Gaz and Soap stepped forward, gripping your arms as you surged toward Price.

“Let me go!” you shouted, struggling against them. “You can’t seriously believe this!”

Price’s voice was ice. “Take her to the room.”

Panic clawed at you as they dragged you down the hall. “No! This is a mistake! I didn’t do it!”

They shoved you into the interrogation chamber. Before you could regain your footing, a fist connected with your face, sending you sprawling. You looked up to see Ghost towering over you, his eyes like flint.

“Couldn’t even wait to strap me down?” you spat, blood dripping from your lip.

“You’re a traitor,” he said flatly. “If it were up to me, you’d already be dead.”

The words shattered something inside you. He hauled you up by your hair, ignoring your struggles, and strapped you into the chair.

Price entered, knife glinting in his hand. “Last chance,” he growled.

“I didn’t do it,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face.

The blade plunged into your thigh, and you screamed.

The betrayal, more than the pain, was unbearable.

＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚

MAN I STRUGGLED, i hope i did well....ty ly

[jonivngel]

𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧. (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞.)

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

part 1: sharing is caring; part 2: dinner; part 3: devotion.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

"So you made dinner that Friday, set up a table for two, candles, and your favorite silver cutlery, and dressed in a pretty satin dress with a low back. The evening would be a little too perfect considering Suguru wouldn't be there..."

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6,603

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 18+ ONLY, NSFW! CONTENT, MDNI, infidelity, unprotected sex, cucking (just a lil), polyamory, threesomes, drunk sex, a bit of degradation, praise kink kinda, oral (male on male and male on female), mxmxf sex, mxf penetration, overstimulation, edging, bath sex, kitchen sex, exhibitionism, just overall filth ngl, satosugu is bisexual so gay stuff, fluffy at the end (q up another warning for my sloppy writing lowk)

a/n: hope you enjoy... (part 2 is still my fav but this ain't half as bad ngl). it was supposed to have more plot, but it doesn't because my mind has been reduced to nothing but filth.... my apologies. also sorry for taking so long uni has me dead fr.

𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

The ‘dinners’, as you began calling them, became a regular thing.

Every Friday, like clockwork, Satoru would text Suguru the name of the restaurant and the time at which you were set to meet. Suguru would ask if you were willing to, to which you always said yes. It was seemingly a one-sided arrangement, he wanted Satoru and you wanted him. A messy conundrum that had you stressing about how long it was going to last and what the outcome would be.

Your relationship with Suguru certainly wasn't the same. The atmosphere assumed a lingering tension caused by a passing thought or mention of Satoru, the sweet scent of his skin remaining infused into your bedsheets, your hair, your clothes... He became a ghost, haunting you day and night until you'd meet again and all your worries would disappear with the scalding feeling of his fingertips exploring every dip and bump of your body. He knew how to make sure you wouldn't forget what it felt like to be had by him, to be so helplessly enchanted by pleasure that nothing else mattered.

It made your head muddled with jealousy conflicting with the growing affection for the shared time between the three of you. It was sinful and depraved, the raw need consuming you entirely until you surrendered fully every time you'd spend the night with them. Satoru became a habit. He became someone to you and you were slowly losing the ability to view him as the other.

He wasn't just someone Suguru convinced you to bring to your bed. It showed in little moments, words of endearment, the way your name would drip from his lips like honey. He was sweet to you. He'd look at you with his beautiful tranquil eyes and your skin would set ablaze with a burning need to feel him deeper, to connect, to get lost in him. You'd forget Suguru was even there. It was a thrill, a newfound nuance to the relationship you three shared. Because in moments like that, when Satoru would kiss you and touch you and look at you with pure devotion, you felt like he didn't care only for Suguru, but for you too.

It scared you, though. How intensely you began feeling for him, how he'd appear in your thoughts during a moment of silence while you washed dishes or did laundry, like it was so mundane, just a thing to be thought about. You would catch yourself remembering the way it felt to be under that intense gaze and you'd scold yourself. You shouldn't be thinking about him, you'd tell yourself, Suguru cheated on you with him, why would you think about him like that?

Then you'd get pissed at yourself because you've gone through the motions a thousand times, your thoughts were looping in circles. He isn't the other - he is, though - but why would he be so sweet… - but, but and but. Over and over again, it drove you insane. And you knew it wasn't like that, that Suguru didn't just cheat mindlessly. He loved you both, and you would've been fine with it had it not been for the nagging feeling of what someone else might think if they found out…

That's why you were terrified beyond words when Suguru suggested you meet Satoru alone.

“I'm sorry, honey,” he sighed, holding your face in his hands and kissing you so sweetly, disarming you of all the bitter words on the tip of your tongue, “I have an important meeting this Friday, it can't be helped.”

Your stomach twisted at the thought. You hadn't been alone in the same room with Satoru, let alone slept with him. Was that what Suguru expected to happen? Why couldn't you simply cancel? Then again, you didn't want Satoru to get the message that you didn't enjoy the time he spent with the two of you… Because you did enjoy it. Thoroughly.

“Okay,” you sighed, tugging on his shirt to bring him closer, his heat warming you to your core, “I'll make him dinner, it's the least I can do to apologize for changing plans. Plus he always takes us out.”

Suguru's smile made your heart skip a beat. “That's a beautiful idea. So sweet. Thank you, baby.” He kissed you again and you smiled, glad that he was okay with it. Not only okay, he seemed happy.

So you made dinner that Friday, set up a table for two, candles, and your favorite silver cutlery, and dressed in a pretty satin dress with a low back. The evening was going to be a little too perfect considering Suguru wasn't going to be there. But if the conversation led you to discuss how you've been feeling about the entire situation, the atmosphere would be at ease with the home-cooked candle-lit dinner.

You finished setting everything up about an hour before he arrived and had been on the edge of your seat ever since. The minutes were passing so slowly, your hands fidgeting with the satin pooling in your lap while you checked eagerly on the time every few minutes. You were secretly hoping he'd be a little late so you'd have more time to mentally prepare yourself. Your hopes were not fulfilled, however, because he showed up right on time, the doorbell startling you and making you jump off the couch.

Opening the door you were met with the sight of Satoru dressed in a white shirt and black pants, white hair fluffy and messy just the way you liked it. His eyes peered at you over the rim of his glasses perched on the tip of his nose, taking you in with the same intensity you’ve grown to revel in. He held a beautiful bouquet of deep purple hydrangeas in one hand and a bottle of pricey champagne in the other.

Your stomach fluttered in delightful excitement, “Hi,” you smiled and let him get in through the door, “Welcome, Satoru.”

He smiled back, the sly smile that told you he was having the time of his life, “Hey,” his voice was smooth, husky, a lilting cadence that made your skin tingle with anticipation. He bent down as he handed you the flowers, warm breath tickling past your ear when he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. The gentle nature of the action had you wanting to jump out of your skin because it didn't feel nearly enough of what you needed from him. His scent invaded your senses, drowning out all else as you reveled in the sweetness of vanilla and cinnamon you’ve come to love so much.

Then you realized that moments ago you were stressing about him, about this, and yet here he was, and all your mind and body did was crave his touch.

You were in for a rude awakening by the end of the night, it seemed.

“Thank you, ‘Toru…” you blushed and swiftly showed him to the dining room, which was divided from the kitchen only by a long kitchen island. You took the bottle from him to put in some ice and let him take his seat at the head of the table, which was usually Suguru's seat, but that's what he gets for leaving you alone.

“So, how are you, sweetie?” He asked, crossing his long legs and giving you a once-over, eyes as shameless as ever while they drank you in. His smile only seemed to grow wider.

Your heart started beating faster in an instant once you turned around to plate the food, unable to look at the mischievous glint in his eyes as they devoured you entirely. You were aware that cooking this man dinner and dressing in one of your prettiest dresses was a bold move, a calculated one at that. You were just afraid that you'd let his intoxicating energy get the best of you before you even managed to finish your meal.

“I'm doing well,” you sigh, “Suguru pissed me off cus’ he said he couldn't be with us tonight. Other than that I'm great.”

Satoru chuckled, his chair scraping the floor slightly when he stood up and made his way over to you. “It's okay,” he muttered, appearing next to you, paying close attention to the way your fingers worked skillfully as they arranged the food, “I'll appreciate you for the both of us tonight.”

Was he even aware of the way his words sounded? They made your cheeks flush with the deepest crimson color, your fingers cramping up suddenly and almost making you mess up the food arrangement.

You let out a breathy laugh, nervous with him standing so close and watching you prepare the food so intently, “Thank you, but don't feel like you have to make up for it on his behalf.”

He hummed in response, “Should I take the salad and champagne to the table?”

You nodded and thanked him, finishing up the plates and carrying them to the table as well. He had already opened the bottle of champagne, pouring you a glass and then himself, waiting for you to sit down before he lifted it in cheers.

His smile turned soft and his eyes were full of adoration as your glasses clinked and he said, “Thank you for the dinner.” You could've sworn his cheeks were a tiny bit flushed, he seemed bashful in comparison to all the other times you've seen him, possibly shy because of the genuine act of service you prepared for him.

You smiled, “No problem, sweetheart,” you took a sip of your drink and gestured at the food, “Let's eat before it gets cold. And tell me your honest opinion.”

He nodded eagerly, taking a large bite immediately at your command. His eyes widened and he looked at you like he was about to fall madly in love with you. “This…” he couldn't even finish his sentence, taking another bite like a little child stuffing their mouth full of sweets. He resorted to letting out a stifled groan as he pointed at the food, causing you to laugh at the ridiculous theatrics he was performing to show you how much he liked it.

“Calm down, Satoru, it can't be that good…” you chuckled and took a bite, impressing even yourself at the taste of your dish. “Okay, maybe I outdid myself this time.”

He chuckled, continuing to eat his food as if it was his first meal in a thousand years. It warmed your heart to see him enjoy something you cooked for him and it completely dissipated the tension you felt before he arrived.

You two chatted idly while you finished your food, he brought up how he became a teacher and you brought up your work at a bakery downtown. The matter of jujutsu society and picking sides was understandably a topic too heavy for a friendly dinner, but you found a way to mention you had resigned from the jujutsu world altogether. He didn't dwell on the topic too much, choosing to appreciate the moment of normalcy he was afforded and discuss your recent workplace drama instead. He seemed interested enough in such a mundane topic, perhaps more than that. He was fascinated by it.

“So she was caught with the manager and then he fired the girl who caught them?!” he gawked at you in disbelief, amazed at how messy non-sorcerers could be. The jujutsu world was messy in a different way, everybody was too busy fighting curses to be bothered with such trivialities as who was seeing who. They were also infinitely more skilled at hiding it. The little rendezvous between Satoru, Suguru and you is a case in point.

You explained the rest of the drama while you finished your third glass of champagne, Satoru still being on his second. You switched to a different topic soon enough; time was flying by quickly, and at some point, you had gotten up to wash the dishes while he told you about his favorite bakeries and sweets kiosks.

He got up with you without question, bringing over the remaining plates you couldn't carry, and continued talking, until a comfortable silence fell upon the two of you. You washed the dishes and handed them off to him to dry off and place to the side. His eyes watched you studiously, observing every twitch of your muscle as you worked.

Such a mundane thing it must've been for a sorcerer as great as Satoru Gojo. Washing dishes. It dawned on you that Suguru must've done this on purpose, made you spend time alone with Satoru to get to know him better. In that moment you hated how brilliantly calculated Suguru could be because he was right- being alone with Satoru created space for you to think about him as a person and not just someone to compete with over Suguru.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispered next to your ear and you realized you'd been washing the same dish in silence for about two minutes.

“N-Nothing, sorry…” you muttered, feeling your skin tingle with the sudden proximity of his body.

He hummed, moving your hair gently to the side, exposing your neck to him. He was so close, yet your bodies weren't touching, your entire body contorting with deep yearning just to get a feel of him pressed against you. He chose to tease you instead, his lips ghosting over the curve of your neck, warm breath eliciting goosebumps all over your skin.

“You think Suguru would mind?”

You wanted to fall apart right then, crumble into pieces because you didn't want to stop him. Somehow it felt so wrong to do this without Suguru, but his lips brushing against your neck most tenderly was making your mind fall short of reasons to stop.

“I-I don't know, Satoru-” your words turned into a whiny mewl once he finally kissed you. It was embarrassing how easily he could control your mind with just one kiss. Yet there was no time to dwell on it because he didn’t stop, pressing his lips down your exposed neck and shoulder, giving you loving kisses that had your insides melting.

“You're so pretty,” he muttered, his hands coming to rest on your hips, his body finally pressing up against yours and pinning you against the kitchen counter. “Is this okay?” He asked innocently, fingers tracing the curve of your body, from your hip over the side of your torso and over the neckline of your dress.

“Oh my-” you dropped the dish you were holding in the sink as his hand gently wrapped around your neck and pulled you further into him, your head falling back on his shoulder. He had you caged in place, unable to run or move or resist- at least that's what you told yourself. He had you wrapped around his finger, gasping at every feathery touch over your dress, so light you felt like bursting into tears from the rattling heartbeat in your chest.

“You didn't answer, baby.” He muttered into your skin, words a hushed whisper but fingers getting more bold as they pulled up your dress to reveal your panties and the skin of your abdomen. “Should I touch you more?”

You whimpered and swiftly wrapped your hand around his wrist, guiding his fingers to sink below the waistband of your panties. “Please, ‘Toru-”

“Eager, hm?” He kissed your cheek and ear, making you shudder once his fingers started circling your clit slowly, painfully slow, trying to make you fall further into madness. “Should I just fuck you right here, then?”

You nodded without second thought, the champagne and his fingers both messing with your impulse control until you didn't know how to say no anymore. “Y-Yes, ah- please.” You rocked your hips into his fingers, lips parted in delight as he continues to press his lips to your neck. He was making you fall apart only with his lips and fingers, heavy breaths and whimpers next to your ear making your knees weak for him. He seemed so needy, hips rolling slowly against your ass so you could feel the tightness in his pants, feel how much he wanted you.

“Take your panties off for me, pretty.” He mutters and a sound of his belt unbuckling clinks behind you, but his other hand never leaves your clit as you slide your panties down and let them fall to the floor. You're a whimpering mess, dripping over his fingers and down your thighs, already soaking wet from the tension lingering in the air. The languid, delicate kind of tension that makes your heart beat faster in expectation.

He’s pressed up against the soft flesh of your ass, hard and warm, eager to feel you wrap around him. His hand stops toying with you, guiding his thick tip to slide against your pussy instead. You're half bent over the kitchen sink, holding yourself up with hands on each side of it, your eyes screwed shut. Despite the loud thrum of your own pulse in your head, you can hear the faint gasps of desperation coming from Satoru as his needy hands spread you from behind so he could easily sink into you.

Once he finally does, stretching you so delightfully, you feel like you're about to pass out. He was filling you out completely, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and a groan slipped past your lips.

“F-Fuck-” he mutters and his cock twitches inside of you, sliding so slowly against your insides it made you even more drunk than you already were.

“’Toru-” you whine as he bottoms out, legs quivering from having him nestled so deep.

He starts moving slowly as he pulls you back into his chest, head falling back to its place on his shoulder. “Let me feel you, baby, I just want to feel you, p-please-” he whimpers next to your ear, hips unmoving while he relished in the feeling of your tight pussy swallowing his cock and begging for more. His hands roam over your body, one squeezing your breasts under your dress that he was too impatient to take off, the other coming up to wrap around your throat once more. “So good, baby, ah-”

His hips begin moving languidly, his cock sliding in and out of you so painfully slow that you could feel each and every shape of his thumping veins. It felt intimate, slow, and sweet, something you weren’t used to from Satoru. He was rough and liked to get mean so he could hear you whine and complain. But in that moment he was so lost in you he couldn’t find it in his heart to be mean. You were everything to him in that moment, so beautiful that he had to make love to you as tenderly as he could, show you just how much he liked you. Oh, he didn’t like you- he loved you.

He showed you that with gentle touches and kisses, whispering into your ear about how much he needed you all to himself for once, “S-Suguru can have you any day- ah- any day of the week, I was so happy he’d be away.” His hips crash into your own, making you yelp out at the sudden change in force, “I needed this so bad- f-fuck-” he picks up the pace, the smacking of skin against skin filling the quiet space of the kitchen.

“’Toru…” you whine, feeling him deeper inside of you, your whole body quivering along with your voice, “I-I can’t stand like this-” Your legs and hands were weakening by the second and you couldn’t keep yourself up any longer.

“Sorry, baby, sorry-” he mutters and swiftly picks you up, places you to lay on the kitchen island, and slides back into his place molded deeply into you before you could blink. His hands tugged your dress off and returned to your bare body as you shivered on the cold kitchen counter, groans of delight erupting from deep within his chest at the sight of you laid out for him like a full-course meal.

“T-Toru, Suguru will be-” you gasp as he slams his hips forcefully into yours again, grabbing you by your cheeks to look him in the eyes, a scathing glint flickering to light at the mention of his best friend, “Sorry, I-”

“I don’t give a fuck about him right now,” he spits, lips inches away from yours as he keeps steadily pumping his thick cock into you. His flushed face leans in front of yours, hot breath fanning over your skin, smelling faintly of champagne and mint, “It’s time we get to know each other better, huh?”

You nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head immediately as he starts thumbing circles into your sensitive bulb of nerves, your legs spread as far as they could go while he bullies his cock into you repeatedly. You chant his name, your voice echoing like a prayer through your empty house, Suguru slipping from your mind entirely. You fall apart again and again for him, tears brimming in your eyes as he whines and whimpers your name into your skin. His teeth sink into the soft flesh of your breasts, cock jolting up into your g-spot once you squeak in pain.

“I’m c-close baby, fuuck you feel so good-” he groans, kissing your chest and collarbones, worshiping your body with his hands as they grab and squeeze at every soft part of you, memorizing the feeling by heart.

“’Toru- ah- please, please, please- I need you inside plea-” a loud scream rips your throat and his thrusts become even more merciless than before, your helpless pleas creating a savage monster out of him. He’s pummeling into you so deep and with such force that he pushes you across the kitchen island, your head dangling off of it and making you even dizzier than you already were from the numerous times you came on his cock.

He chokes out your name as he buries himself inside of you, hips stilling while he fills you up to the brim with his cum, your insides sticky and warm, taking everything he’s got. It felt so heavenly that all you could do was whisper his name over and over again, hands gripping feverishly at the unbuttoned shirt he forgot to take off, pulling him to lay atop of you and warm you with his entire body.

You try to catch your breath, letting your head hang off the counter, eyes fluttering open slowly as you calm down from your high. You almost don’t register the dark silhouette leaning against the wall across the dining room, but your heart almost stops in panic as you realize Suguru got home already.

“S-Sugu-” you try to say and he chuckles at your raspy voice, strained from screaming Satoru’s name for the past thirty minutes.

Satoru is too spent to look up, but he mumbles against your skin, “Tell him we’re not done.”

You lift your head to look at him, inspecting the fluffy white locks of hair sticking to your dewy skin with his face buried into your chest. Surely he wasn’t being serious? You’ve already messed up enough by doing this without Suguru, who now watched you with that dangerous, calculating sparkle in his eyes.

“Satoru-”

“Then I’ll just keep fucking you in front of him.”

He didn’t give you a second to think before pulling out and slamming back into you, the concoction of your messes letting out a dirty squelching sound that make your face heat up with embarrassment at Suguru hearing that. “Let him watch, baby, since he dared leave you alone- hah- with me-”

Suguru’s tie came undone and he draped it over one of the dining chairs, eyes never leaving yours as Satoru kept ramming into you, his fingers gripping your hips so tight they would surely leave your skin bruised for days. Your eyes brimmed with tears once again, guilt swelling up in your chest- but not from letting Satoru do this without your beloved Suguru- it was because you didn’t let him do it sooner.

“Tell Suguru h-how well we got along-” Satoru chuckles and you don’t know whether or not you’re glad that he’s being mean again because it feels so good to be tortured by him.

You whimper and cry out as he fucks you, looking at Suguru who is still standing in the same place, cheeks flushed red from seeing the filthy debauchery unfold right in front of him. Satoru bites your nipple and you squeal, finally finding your voice to say, “W-We got along so well, Sugu-” Another cry rips through your throat and Satoru grins with your other nipple between his teeth, drool pooling in his mouth from the sweet taste of your skin.

Suguru’s words are venomous as they reach your ears in a low grumble laced with lust, “Couldn’t even wait for me to get home, huh? Must’ve gotten along really well-” he chuckles breathily, barely containing himself from pulling out his cock and stuffing it down your throat. He notices the tears falling into your hair with your head being upside down. “Don’t cry, honey, I’m glad.”

“Your sweetheart feels so good ‘n’ tight around my cock, Suguru, you’re missing out-” Satoru chides, feeling your walls flutter desperately around him at the praise. He chuckles, continuing to whisper dirty things about you as if you weren't even there, talking only to Suguru. “Such a good, sweet little pussy, taking me s-so well… She came for me so much, you would’ve loved to see it.”

Suguru looks up at Satoru and you raise your head to see the white-haired man with a grin on his face, your ankles on his shoulders, sweat dripping down from his forehead and down the side of his face. He looks so majestic that it makes you forget Suguru for a second once again, but Suguru’s heavy footsteps tread over to the kitchen island and shift your focus swiftly back to him. He stands next to Satoru, looking between your legs to see the mess you’ve made, eyes darkening with desire.

“Show me.”

Satoru whines while he pulls out of you, stepping back to let Suguru inspect your leaking hole, Satoru’s cum mixed with your slick gushing out of you slowly for him to see. And you knew your lover was just as depraved as you, if not more, but it still caught you by surprise when he bent down to bury his tongue inside of you, making your back arch off the kitchen island when it made contact with your abused clit.

“Sugu- ru- please- n-no-” you choke out, pushing his face back in futile attempts to disconnect his mouth from you. He’s relentless though, lapping up every last drop of your and Satoru’s cum mixed together, groaning in delight as he tastes you two on his tongue.

Satoru is watching it unfold with hazy eyes, spent and unwilling to let himself use his RCT to regain his stamina. It’s way better to watch you cry and beg Suguru to go easy on you, his cock still aching from the overstimulation from your heavenly pussy. “You’re going to break her, Suguru,” he chuckles and finds his pants, deciding it would be best to draw a bath for the three of you while Suguru finished punishing you for- well, for doing exactly what he wanted you to do in the first place.

“You've been bad without me, hmm?” the tone of his words is both scornful and loving, half pouty as he thinks about all the fun you got to have before he got there. And he could see that you were tired, he didn't want to push you too hard. So he pulled back, lightly smacking your clit to see you jump and whimper one last time.

You catch your breath, allowing him to help you sit up and drape his suit jacket over your shoulders. He looks at you with a smug expression, as if he knows he's finally managed to orchestrate your undoing in terms of jealousy and dislike for Satoru. He does, it's evident by the flush on your cheeks and your tired arms that wrap weakly around his neck so you can pull him into a comforting hug. You smell much less like yourself and more like Satoru, vanilla, and cinnamon tangled in your hair and champagne on your breath. He almost understands what it was like for you when it all started.

“You wanna go take a bath with Satoru while I change?” He grins. His eyes fall to your collarbones, peppered with red marks of Satoru's teeth and he chuckles, “He really can't keep doing this…”

You huff and roll your eyes, already pissed at what you're about to say, “Fine,” you mutter, your swollen lips in a pout, “I was wrong. He's nice.”

Suguru's eyes light up in a way you've never seen before, his smile soft and loving, excitement visible on his face for the first time in ages. It makes your heart flutter and your eyes widen in disbelief, mind reeling as it tries to process the beautiful smile on his face that shines through with happiness.

“I'm glad you like him, my love,” he leans in to give you a quick peck before he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom, “Now take a bath, you must be tired.”

You sigh, arms wrapping tightly around his neck while you kiss him on the cheek. “Join us.” you say, “Please?”

He looks at you, his expression still containing that childish excitement you saw earlier. An ache erupted within your chest, a bittersweet feeling at seeing your Suguru smile so brightly. He’d been so melancholic ever since you’ve met him, it worried you if he was just depressed and unable to be helped. Although, it seemed he cared deeply for Satoru and a burden finally fell from his shoulders once he was able to include the white-haired menace back in his life. He was finally content to see you and Satoru getting along. No matter how messy and depraved the method for sorting out your differences was.

Satoru is already in the bath, long legs bent at the knees to be able to fit in it. “You two done talking shit about me behind my back? You know I can hear everything right?”

You stick your tongue out at him before you join him in the bath, splashing him lightly. His nose scrunches up and he splashes you back, making you gasp out in faux shock at his rudeness.

“Stop it, you two…” Suguru grumbles, “You're gonna make a mess.”

You giggle, “You should see the kitchen…”

Satoru huffs, pulling you to lay against him, “You gotta check the pipes, they must be leaking everywher- ah!” he jolts in surprise when you pinch him to shut him up from saying any more embarrassing things.

“Is this how it's gonna be from now on? You two just being unbearable-” Suguru's sarcastic remarks are cut off by both you and Satoru putting all your might into splashing him with as much water as you can. His pants are ruined along with half of his shirt. They stick to his toned body, revealing the outline of his achingly hard cock in his pants.

“Oh, Suguru, you pervert-” Satoru mocks, “You're getting hard just from seeing us together in a bath?”

“Maybe we should put on a show for him again, what do you say?” You turn around to kneel between Satoru's legs, taking his face between your hands. Your lips brush against Satoru's, water splashing as you manage to sit in his lap, tongue darting out to slide against his own in a deep and sensual kiss that has you aching for his cock once again.

Suguru is at a loss of words at how unbelievably sinful the two of you behaved now, his mind reminding him of the times you were too shy to even mention Satoru by name. And now here he was, watching you devour Satoru with just one kiss, your back arching so you could sink further into the warm feeling of his body against your own. It truly was a sight for his sore eyes.

“I-I thought you two were done-” he clears his throat once his voice comes out an octave higher than his usual laid-back tone.

Satoru whimpers as you buck your hips to grind against his cock, head falling back in delight, lips curving into a satisfied grin, “Seems like we’re not.” He chuckles, hands gripping your ass to guide your movements while you kiss and bite his neck to muffle your honeyed whimpers.

“Fucking brats-” Suguru mutters angrily, stripping all of his clothes in a few seconds and stepping into the tub to sit across from Satoru. He can’t believe he’s being excluded and that he’s pouting about it like an ungrateful child.

You glance at him over your shoulder, letting him watch as you wrap your delicate fingers around Satoru’s thick length and guide it back into you- groaning loudly on purpose to see Suguru’s cock jump involuntarily. “You’re so thick, ‘Toru,” you mumble coyly, mouth falling open in pleasure as you start moving up and down his length, “Sugu’ was so mean for leaving me alone… I felt soo empty-”

Before either you or Satoru could react, you’re being ripped away from him, pulled back, and made to stand on all fours in the tub facing Satoru.

“Oh, shit-” Was the last thing you heard Satoru say before Suguru plunged into you without warning, bottoming out immediately.

“You want to be a slut, sweetheart?” He growls next to your ear, malice dripping from his glossy lips, “I’ll show you how sluts should be treated.”

He pulls back his hips, giving you a second to wonder where he went before ramming into you again, and again, and again until you feel like your insides are about to be rearranged. You whine and cry, his name falling from your lips, eyes squeezed shut so you wouldn’t have to look at Satoru who was gazing at you in pure shock and astonishment at what he’d gotten you into.

“Suguru, she’s-” his words are interrupted by Suguru’s fingers being shoved down his throat.

“Hmm, seems like a- hah- good place to shove my cock- fuck- after I’m done with this pussy, i-isn’t it, baby?” He smacks your ass with his free hand while he pounds into you from behind, your walls clenching around him in encouragement.

All you can do is squeal and mewl in response, mind fucked empty with the raw force of Suguru’s savage thrusts. Your arms shake as they hold you up desperately so you don't fall into the water face first, you feel yourself nearing yet another peak, Suguru's cock ravaging you the only thing occupying your thoughts.

Satoru is drooling over Suguru’s fingers, looking at him with those pristine eyes, daring him to do as he promised. And he does. Once you cry out and your legs shake, your walls clenching around him from your orgasm, he pulls away cruelly and pulls Satoru by the hair to fill his mouth up. He whimpers weakly, muscular thighs flexing as he bucks his hips one final time and releases the sticky white spurts down Satoru's throat. He throws his head back and you marvel at the sight of his long hair falling over his broad shoulders, eyes shut tightly and cheeks flushed a dusty pink.

Once he lets Satoru go, the white-haired man gasps for air, swallowing everything Suguru gave him. “Rude.” He mutters, but he's grinning up at Suguru who gives him a scornful look. “You ruined our bath.”

You would've laughed if you weren't so fucking tired from getting used by them like you were their toy. “You two gotta do it without me next week, I deserve a break.” You mutter weakly as you lean your head on Satoru's shoulder, letting his arms wrap around you to keep you steady.

“Why are you acting like you don't enjoy this?” Suguru asks and settles on the opposite side of the tub, sighing out in exhaustion.

You roll your eyes, “I do enjoy it.”

“Then stop complaining.”

You glare at him, “You were complaining about us starting without you a bit ago.”

Satoru snickers, “And you thought we'd be jealous…”

“Whatever.” The dark-haired man huffs and closes his eyes, ignoring you and Satoru entirely.

“Wanna get out of the tub ‘n’ continue without him?” Satoru whispers to you, not caring whether or not Suguru heard him. Which he did.

“Enough.” He growls.

You giggle at him, “You were enjoying the show in the kitchen.”

“You gotta clean that up. Who's idea was it to fuck in the kitchen?”

“I needed my desert,” Satoru shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“You're cleaning it up.”

“Fine.”

The three of you mellow out into a comfortable silence, all three tired from the strenuous activity you've been through that night. Satoru is tracing soft circles into your shoulder, holding you with your face nuzzled into the slope of his neck.

You almost fall asleep when Suguru's voice jolts you awake. “You stayin’ the night?”

Satoru nods, “If you'll let me.”

“Of course.”

You find yourself lying between them on your king-sized bed once you are cleaned up and dressed in your sleepwear, Satoru dressed entirely in Suguru's clothes. It's warm and relaxing, and you think about how nervous you were at the beginning of the night. The warmth of their bodies spreads to your chest and you know in your heart this is the only place you'd want to stay forever.

“I love you two,” you mutter in the dead of night, thinking they're already asleep.

Satoru nuzzles his nose into the back of your neck, arms wrapping around you even tighter, “Love you, too.”

Suguru presses his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss and you can feel how widely he's smiling, “I love you, too.”

You chuckle giddily as you realize Satoru became your favorite person just as much as Suguru's.

“But you really gotta clean up the kitchen tomorrow morning-”

“Shut uuup-” you and Satoru whine, both pinching Suguru, making him laugh before he gives you both a kiss and says goodnight.

tags: @minzxec @thattbitchwiththehair @tykaii @tojbnuy @ilovesugurugeto69

[lakes-writting-rambles]

Out Of Choice, But Not Out Of Reach - #1 Inevitabilities And Such Unfortunate Things

words:2889

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

Sometimes your destiny is completely out of your hands – Danny Fenton couldn’t seem to find a way to avoid learning that lesson. First; when he was shot when Slade invaded the headquarters of the League, and subsequently his family, was using, while the fight between Slade and Grandfather was going on, he used the chaos to get to the Lazarus Pit before he bled out; a second time when he died in that godforsaken portal; the most prevalent one was definitely his first meeting with Clockwork, there he noticed that it doesn’t matter how hard you try, if it isn’t meant to be, someone will interfere. It doesn’t mean he won’t still do things as before, but now there’s forever the dread of knowing.

It’s been about a year since what he, Jazz, Sam and Tucker dubbed “The Dan Incident”, and Danny can't seem to stop thinking about it. Well, not really about Dan, no, but about Damian. He can’t stop thinking about how Dan likely ended up killing Damian – it’d be inevitable, and, considering the state the future he had been shown was in, he hoped Damian went early on, really, he also hoped it was quick, like he tried to do when he was in the League.

What really bothered Danny, though, was that he couldn’t help but wonder if staying with the Fentons even was a good idea at this point. Surely he has learned that misfortune would follow him anywhere he went, so why wait for the shoe to drop? Before the accident, he was relatively safe to live the rest of his life in Amity, sure, it was kind of a deadend, but it was tranquil, so he couldn’t really complain. Now, though? He was in constant danger inside and outside his house, being half dead meant no place with the living and no place with the dead. He should leave while he still can.

The League isn’t likely to spot him, considering it’s been years since his “death” and he probably looks different enough from Damian now… which is something he’ll have to think about later. And the threats of dissection (vivisection?) by his parents keep increasing – he doesn’t want to fuck around and find out.

So, the League is probably not an issue anymore, staying seems to get more dangerous each day and he’s pretty sure most ghosts only come to Amity to fight him.

Nevertheless, running away also came with a plethora of problems, for one: leaving Jazz and his friends. When he got adopted into the Fenton household he tried not to get attached to anyone. He couldn’t keep that up for long, as a touch starved 9 year old that came from a violent background and got thrown into a very loving family. First, he got attached to his parents, then Jazz, Tucker, and finally, Sam. He doesn’t regret it, not one bit, but it might make this choice hard to make – since the easiest way to run away would be to fake his death and forgo any contact with everyone from his old life. Maybe they’d know he wasn’t (fully) dead, maybe they’d just be extremely miserable, he wouldn't know. 

Another issue is that he’s the current Ghost King, and oh boy doesn’t that complicate things? He keeps getting more powerful, which means keeping his cover is getting harder – an unsettling and overpowering aura surrounds him now, and sure, it reacts to other people’s emotions as well as his own, which in theory should make it easier to hide, since everyone in Amity seems to have differing opinions on his two  personas, but the fact that his aura is big enough that others take notice is concerning enough on its own; he’s control over his abilities needs to be impeccable or he risks getting found out; and he’s pretty sure some of his more ghostly traits are beginning to bleed over into his human form. He also needs stable access to a portal, since he needs to take at least two trips per month to the Ghost Zone so he can check over things with Clockwork and parade around to remind the citizens of the realm that he is their king; he can’t officially take over since he’s still alive, once he’s entirely dead he will, but for now the observants act as regents and that’s more than fine by him.

And third: he’s not really sure where he should go. You’d think Gotham would be his first option because of his father, but he has too much media presence, so Danny’d be brought to the spotlight. Does anyone in Amity care about Gotham? Not that he knows of. But it’d still be too big of a risk. Plus, Tucker really wants to work in Wayne Enterprises in the future, he’s sure that it’d become a problem in no time.

So… what to do? Money isn’t a problem, since he has access to all the treasure hoarded by Pariah Dark over the centuries, but that’s not all he has to consider. He needs some sort of safety net, that much is obvious, and since he won’t be able to count on his regular support system, he should fall back on his blood.

Maybe he could go to Blüdhaven? It’s close enough to Gotham that he can go there if he somehow needs to come into contact with someone from his biological family but not enough that he’d be immediately clocked… but then there’s Nightwing… as long as he doesn’t get  into any trouble it should be fine, right? It’s not like there’s a city without a hero nowadays… Urgh, nevermind, he’ll come back to these thoughts later, he’d rather not spend his rare moment of peace coming up with what to do after he fakes his death.

Sometimes fate decides that things should be ultimately out of your hands – but Damian Al Ghul Wayne fights with all his might to avoid such a thing becoming a rule in his life. When he came to live with his father, around 7 years ago, he held out hope that his twin had made it and would eventually return to his side. That never happened. And now Damian isn’t sure how to approach the topic of Danyal with his family, so he just… doesn’t. Even after all this time, it feels wrong to keep the memory of Danyal to himself, he should be celebrated, even if his death was premature and almost a decade has passed.

Danyal had died the same day as Grandfather, which is why his grief isn’t questioned –, even if the Bats are well aware of his distaste of his Grandfather’s actions, now that he’s recognized them for what they were. Damian isn’t sure if it’ll ever come to pass, because in quiet moments like this, he thinks of what could have been.

His twin was never needlessly violent, and his killings were virtually a mercy, compared to the others in the LoA, even himself. Maybe he would have adapted faster than Damian did, maybe he would have made a better Robin, maybe they would still wake up together and share little moments of quiet.

It’s all speculation, all it will ever be. They never found his body, but even now, years later, the image of his pierced chest is burned between the other twin’s eyes, it wasn’t likely to survive a wound like that, and even if he did, the bloodloss would’ve killed him regardless. But to a 9 year old, the what ifs often overshadow reality, which is why Damian had kept his hopes up, afterall, one of the many teachings of the League was that “if there isn’t a body then one should always consider the possibility of the victim having survived”. But now, at 16, he could see it for what it was, the foolishness of a child longing for what is gone – he’ll never admit it, but in the darkest, deepest and most hidden part of his heart, Damian still has a little bit of wonder, almost completely squashed, but a bit of hope of seeing his brother once again remains.

There’s no use for pondering at the moment, time doesn’t stop and soon one of his siblings will notice his absence at breakfast and come to pester him, thus he gets up and readies himself to face another hectic morning.

“If I were to go missing, where would you search for me first?” was not a question Tucker was ready for, like, at all, but especially at two in the afternoon on a saturday. Danny hadn’t been the same since that thing with Dan or whatever they had dubbed it, he didn’t change much, but he seemed to get lost in thought more frequently, and Tucker didn’t blame him! Really! But man, what went through his head was morbid at times, and he maybe shouldn’t voice those out of nowhere.

— Uhh I guess… your parent’s basement? — awkward silence fills the air, it’s the most obvious answer, but not a thing they normally consider outloud. A grimace crosses Danny’s face for a second.

— No, I mean, if I …ran away. — he says, and there’s some hesitancy. Obviously, there’s more to the question, but Tucker can’t for the life of him figure out what it could be.

— I’d guess Wisconsin, since it’s close by and you might be able to rely on Vlad if push comes to shove, but that is not likely at all, — Sam starts before coming to a slight pause to think. — Maybe Missouri?

— Why…?

— Cause it’s close by, it’s not like we’d let you get far before going after you. — she smirks and gives his arm a little punch.

—  I think we’d find Danny in Florida, actually, — Tucker chuckles before continuing — it’s the only place where he wouldn’t stand out.

— Oh, screw you. — He says before he lunges at Tucker.

Sam watches for a bit, the conversation got to her more than it did to Tucker. She decides that now isn’t the time to worry about it, she doesn’t think Danny would leave them behind without saying anything, not after all they’ve been through, but it did leave a sour taste in her mouth. To stop herself from spiraling down a rabbit hole, she jumps – literally jumps – into the struggle. 

That is how the three friends end up scratched all over, with dirt and grass stuck to their clothes and silly smiles on their faces, looking up at the sky as the clouds pass by. Moments like this used to be common, but with the chaos that is Amity Park nowadays a chance to just relax and joke around as friends seems more and more like a luxury.

Their peace is interrupted when Danny sighs, a defeated sigh that usually comes after his breath fogs – which means there is a ghost nearby. A shout ruptures the quiet and kills any hopes for the rest of their afternoon.

— BEWARE! I AM THE BOX GHOST!

— Alright, — he gets up and stretches. — Just wait for me, I’ll be back in a sec.

Sam and Tucker look at each other, worried glances on both ends – they didn’t even need to say anything. Things will never go back to the way they were before, that is something all three know intimately. Danny died. Everything they have witnessed is bound to leave some sort of mark as well. And there are the Fentons. Sam and Tucker knew Danny and Jazz loved their parents, but at this point it seemed inevitable that someday they’d turn on Danny, and it seems that even if he doesn’t talk about it, it’s also something he believes.

It feels unfair, Danny seemed to have come from a bad background and was settling into his own skin and fully letting his guard down for what felt like the first time before the accident. And wasn’t that heartbreaking? He’d adjusted to the life in Amity early on, but to actually enjoy himself? That took some 2-3 years, and to trust that he could always rely on the people around him? It had just started happening into the beginning of their ninth grade. Then the portal opened and he had to put some of those walls back up to protect himself, not just emotionally, but physically as well. Now, they’re in 11th grade, they should be looking for colleges and studying for entrance exams, but instead, Danny is thinking of running away.

They know how their friend thinks at this point, and it’s undeniable they’ll likely have to say goodbye soon.

Dealing with the Box Ghost wasn’t hard, but it sure was annoying. After the fight (if you could even call it that) ended he went back to Sam and Tuck, they laid on the grass for a while longer, ultimately, they got hungry and headed to the Nasty Burger and ate before parting ways.

Danny plops face first into his bed. Well… he could have approached that with more subtlety. Maybe it was his subconscious trying to get them to look for him, or something, to prepare them for his absence. That sounds too close to something Jazz would say…

He turns around, putting his arm on his forehead. His thoughts keep getting away from him, always back to Damian – would he have liked Amity Park? Probably not, if he was being honest with himself. He couldn’t even see himself liking it there when he arrived – in fact: He had hated it. The city was so calm it felt forced, the Fentons so loving it felt like a trap, the kids lacked any malice at all, everything screamed danger at him, like he was about to be ambushed. Nothing ever came to that, just a nice, cozy, little town. 

Well, until the portal opened, that is. 

He stops and just looks at his ceiling for a bit, the old glow in the dark stars already discolored and lacking any actual functionality, there was no reason for them to remain there but the attachment to what they used to be, kinda like him. There was no escaping his current reality. No escaping his need to desert this city, this family, this life. 

Danny sits up and looks around his room, which for the last few years had become his safe haven. He looks at the stained carpet, marked by his many sleepovers with Sam and Tuck, he looks at his ceiling fan, that was cracked from the time the trio had tried to recreate the solar system on it, he looks at his closet, his posters, his desk, everything that was proof of the life he had lived here.

He needs some water and something to eat before setting his plan up.

As he heads down the stairs to the first floor he hears his mother’s soft voice coming from the kitchen.

— Oh Jack, I’m so worried about Danny, — the phrase startles Danny, he turns invisible and intangible, floating a bit so as to not make any sound, — his ecto-contamination has only gotten worse over the years… how can we be sure he’s okay?

— Honey, I’m sure Danno is fine! He must be building up resistance!

— But what if… what if it’s fusing to him? What if there’s no reversing this? — His mom is chewing on her lower lip, clearly distressed. 

At the sight, his dad softens up and hugs her, his voice comforting as he speaks, — We’ll make sure he’s fine, Maddie. We might not know what happened, but we know each other and we know what we’re doing, we’re experts in our field. 

Danny can’t stay there anymore, they know he has ecto in his system and they know it’s getting worse. They know and they want to “fix” him. He’s completely and utterly fucked. 

Alongside his nervousness there is also newfound resolve. He quickly phases into his room, grabs his thermos, maybe two shirts and a pair of pants, he shoves it all inside an old backpack he hasn’t used in years. He will need to dispose of his phone, taking anything electronic with him will leave a trail and he can’t have that. Hopefully his parents don’t have his ecto signature yet, he doesn’t think he has the time to get rid of it if they do.

He checks the kitchen again, they aren’t there anymore, likely back in the lab, then. He has to leave through the front door, to not raise any suspicions. Now, how to make this realistic? Maybe he can fake being murdered? No, Amity doesn’t really have that type of violence. Maybe he can fake being a casualty in a ghost attack? But he’d have to damage public spaces to do so and he doesn’t want to endanger anyone else… Fake getting kidnapped? It wouldn’t be the first time it happened, even as a human.

He could also just up and leave. It’s not like Amity has any actual investigative police force… Maybe he’s complicating things too much. He needs to go before he has time to chicken out. His parents will probably make a move on his ecto contamination within the week and he can’t be there for that.

— Bye mom, dad, be back in a bit! — and so, he shuts the door – leaving his house for what will probably be the last time.

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Inevitabilities And Such Unfortunate Things > Those We Leave Behind

AO3

[nihlitoqe]

DP x DC (From the POV of someone who only knows DP)

Alright so like... I know I'm super late to the party but also. Idea. Ghost King Danny except he actually does want to go to war with Earth.

Danny Ends up escaping from the GIW and retreats back to the Ghost Zone afterwards to recoup and heal

After fully healing up he heads back to Amity Park to check up on his friends and family, not knowing how long he was in captivity for.

He finds out, unfortunately, that Amity park no longer exists. It's been wiped out. Gone from the map. Not a single building left.

Not far from the city limits, he finds a mass grave. One for every member of the town. Death dates going back to 3 years ago.

Distraught, he returns to the Ghost Zone to mourn and look for his family.

Unfortunately, they're not there.

So Danny locks himself away in his small section of the Infinite Realms. No one sees him but Clockwork knows that this is for the best.

When Danny returns, he seeks out Clockwork and tells him that he wishes to take the crown. Unsurprised, Clockwork agrees and they start the preparations for the coronation

Eventually, Danny is crowned and the Infinite Realms enters a new age.

Another 10 Earth years pass and Danny declares war on the Living realm. Because he's angry. Angry no one cared for his home. That no one cared for his family or came looking for him. That he was not avenged.

Cut to the JLA, they receive word of the declaration from the UN. From a dimension they did not know of. Not good.

Batman attempts to research the Infinite realms but because there is nothing on it that he can access, he comes up with multiple dead ends.

Eventually, the JLA call in Constantine for information and boy, does he have info for them.

TLDR, Constantine tells them that the Infinite Realms is the counter dimension to theirs. And the King is declaring war because the USA, and in turn the entire world, have been torturing and killing his subjects for years.

To say things are bad is an understatement. The JLA send Danny a request for Parlay, to hopefully delay or even remove the threat of war from the table.

Amazingly, King Danny agrees to meet and so, some of the JLA (Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, Constantine) meet with him in the ruins of Amity Park, Illinois. The only place where Danny was willing to meet with them.

There, after some tense conversation and comments that almost ruins the parlay, King Phantom offers humanity one last chance to prove that he shouldn't start a war.

Danny will spend a year among the humans, living with them and assessing if they are worth living. If he finds them lacking, he will not be merciful, knowing full well that he will win.

Batman agrees to the terms and offers Danny to live with him and his children. It allows him to learn more about ghosts from their king while also letting Danny live with his, mostly, functional family.

Cue chaos.

Ngl, this shit is half baked and kinda made up after reading like... 15 dp x dc fanfics after nearly 10 years. So I apologize if my DC knowledge is fucked. I'm still learning the Batfam lore.

[ghostgirl101]

Imagine making friends with Cassidy, the young boy possessing Golden Freddy.

|| Word Count: 522 || Platonic Fluff ||

A/N: Goldie's my favourite character from the FNAF world, so I had to write a bit of something for him .-. if you want to see anything specific for any of the FNAF. movie characters then go ahead and request some stuff, as long as it's not smut, and platonic/childhood sweethearts with the missing children :)

Ever since you started working as a night guard after Mike Schmidt’s resignation, surprisingly, you aren’t attacked by the vengeful animatronics who stalk the building. If anything, they’re protective. Especially Cassidy, the quiet young boy who always seems to be watching from the shadows. He’s killed someone before who got too close to you. You’ve even seen him smile once, a massive rarity.

He lingers in the corridor and watches you from the distance with an unreadable look, a hint of a smile on his face. You glance up from the camera screens to meet his calm, but equally sharp and intense stare from across the hall, piercing through the darkness cloaking the entire building, generators always seeming to fail and leaving Freddy's in an ominous night-cloaked tone.

"Hi, Cas," you say softly into the dark room, Cassidy tilting his head ever so slightly to the side in an almost curious response. You can't help but smile slightly at that, the traces of childhood and its blissfull innocence, not completely snuffed out by the horrors that took it all away from him so many years ago. He says nothing.

"Come to keep me company?" You offer with a half-smile, reaching out a hand in his direction, slowly and steadily, ready for him to reject it in silence and step back into the blackness that he seems to so effortlessly emerge from.

Cassidy hesitates for a long moment, before taking a soundless step forward, gazing at your hand blankly, as if not entirely trusting the gesture. But then, slowly, slowly, he stretches out his arm and smaller hand to meet yours, cold dead fingers brushing against yours. You smile fully, squeezing his fingers between yours gently, comfortingly, your other hand brushing back his fine blond locks away from his eyes.

"Poor thing," you find yourself mumbling aloud to yourself. "You're freezing..."

It's a good question of if Cassidy can actually feel the chill, but it doesn't seem to bother him. The foreign positive touch is nice and soothing, and a ghost of appreciation makes his mouth twitch into an almost-smile. He rests his head against your shoulder, breathing out a small content breath from his nose, as your fingers skim the boy's hair. He looks so little and quiet and distant, and for a moment, it seems like a ridiculous idea that he could be capable of anything close to murder, though he most certainly is.

You glance back at the cameras absentmindedly... then again. A frown tugs at your brows, and you peer closer at the digital, hazy image of the abandoned party room... and an intruder, someone who had found their way into the building, or was very likely lured there, lying still and cold on its floors.

"What...?"

Your voice trails off in realisation, and you roll your eyes, half amused, before looking back to Cassidy with a brow raised, as if to say, "really?"

Cassidy, of course, blinks back up at you with unfaltering innocence, his gaze only sharpening with matching amusement and something familiarly dark and unsettling that lingers in the halls of the Pizzeria.

"He fell asleep."

[anonmousegosqueak]

Okay, fluffy one about Roach and his mom.

Everyone loves Gary's mom because she always sends these little parcels full of snacks and baked goods. And when Gary called and told her that the rest of 141 liked them too, she started sending more so they could all have their fill.

Slightly angsty, but, the reason Mrs. Sanderson sends these gifts because of Gary's late father. He was also in the military and died in combat. Her biggest regret was not communicating with him more as she didn't want to come off as a desperate and lonely wife. (⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)

While she worries about Gary she knows he likes what he does. And if he's going to go out and do this she wants to make sure he knows his momma loves him. (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

Kioooo~ KIOOOOOOO-

We all know Mamma Sanderson is a favorite amongst these hardened soldiers. There have been more than one awkward situation where Roach gets a package and Soap doesn't even hesitate to tear it open only to find not-snacks. Opening other people's mail is a crime? Well okay but... He's hungry.

And she makes the most tasty food, a real god in the kitchen. If it's enough to get *Price* to start asking if Roach has any more? Yeah, she could probably win awards.

I also think she's learned some of the preferences of the other members. She always writes a letter to send with the treats and Roach likes to write one back. He'll start mentioning things like "Simon loved the sweets you made" or "Johnny ate the dried bread snack you sent last time, he asked for more." And all of a sudden there are extra of whatever treats. From what she knows, there's a scary guy who likes sweets, her Gary's best friend likes spicy stuff, a Scottish lad eats basically anything and is willing to taste test any recipes (as long as they keep and can be sent, no fresh muffins for him 😔), and the captain prefers some of the more mature flavors like dark chocolate.

I think at some point, they all take leave together and visit Gary's family home (I don't care if this isn't accurate, I *neeed* this) and finally meet the woman who's been keeping their bellys full. And. They. LOVE. Her.

Soap finally gets to try some fresh stuff, Price discusses recipes for him to pass onto his husband, Gaz is a charming fellow who helps in the kitchen, and Ghost can and will lift heavy stuff for her. She once needed some whipped cream for something she was making but oh no! She was out! So what did Ghost do? That fucker hand whipped some cream. She didn't have a stand mixer. He sat with a bowl and whisk and literally *made* her fresh whipped cream.

That starts the war over who will become her favorite.

And y'know who wins?

Roach. *Obviously.*

It's clear, that's her baby boy and she loves him. She was the one who first got him introduced to the amazing world of bugs, she was the one who made his childhood *not* traumatic (unlike everyone else). She's a sweetheart through and through and it's clear she loves her son.

And for your second half...

Gary had already fallen asleep, shoving himself between Simon and Kyle (there's no need for callsigns here) and passing the fuck out. Mrs. Sanderson was in one of the armchairs, Price in the other, and the other four piled onto the couch. The conversation was slow and lazy, just something to pass the time before bed.

It didn't take too long before they were swapping stories about the idiot bug who was snoring directly in poor Simon's ear.

First it was about his love for small spaces (something that's always been a trait for him). Then it was his *chewing* on everything (surprisingly more recently).

And then the conversation slipped into family.

She opened up about her dead husband, how he was military and how she misses him. About how she was always worried about her Gary, she couldn't lose another. About how she also understands that he's a fully grown adult and that she knows she can't baby him, so she settled for treats. About how she was pleased to know they liked it just as much as her son did.

When they left a few days later, Price promised he'd keep her son safe.

AND THEN ROACH DIDN'T BURN TO DEATH IN A FIRE, OR GET SHOT. HE RETIRED AND LIVES IN A BIG HOUSE WITH HIS BOYFRIENDS AND THEY'RE ALL ALIVE AND THEY KISS AND THEY HAVE FOUR CATS AND EVERYONE IS HAPPY AND ALIVE.

I love Mrs. Garrison, she's mine now. Thank you Kio for this tasty morsal of yummy thoughts <3

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Jason Todd for the headcanon ask??

You and @fortuna-majoris had the same idea, so I'm answering you both together, thanks for the ask. It's funny/awful to me how I have so many thoughts about this boy only for them to, poof, disappear when I'm asked.

Headcanon 1:  Realistic

Jason is not a huge fan of mirrors. He's not naturally all that vain, so they were never a huge draw, but he has trouble meeting his own gaze in them now. At first, it was difficult to see the green rage of the Lazarus Pit staring back at him, but as he leveled out, regained more of himself, the natural blue of his eyes returned and that was worse.

Jason was fifteen, lean, not yet walloped by a rocketing growth spurt when he died. That was the last face he saw in the mirror, that of a boy. Now he's a man and massive—broad-shouldered, muscular, mountainous. It's an advantage on the streets, but when he catches his own reflection, it always makes him step back.

He wished he saw someone other than Willis.

Headcanon 2: May or not be realistic, is definitely funny (at least to me)

I think Jason has to go at least three years before he can smell, taste, or otherwise interact with cinnamon or cinnamon flavoring without heaving after he loses a cinnamon spoonful challenge. During the fall holidays, he sometimes wears his helmet into the Manor so he can use the filters, in case Alfred was baking that day.

Headcanon 3: Evil and heart-breaking why would you do this

I think Jason is less haunted by the people he remembers killing than those he's forgotten or wasn't there for at all. I think making a choice to kill someone might be a choice he regrets down the line, but it's a choice he can own, beginning to end, with agency, control, and deliberation.

I think the deaths that wake him in a cold sweat are the half-defined ghosts of the people he encountered when his brain was still marinating in the Pit, the people he attacked in his mindless mania, the ones he targeted on an order from the League, the lives he ended in Gotham when he failed to keep his chin above the floods and the world drowned in green.

I think the deaths that soured in his stomach, pulling on him like lead weights, are the indirect ones he learns about later, not the piled dead he can't remember, but the ones he never saw at all. The incidental casualties, the innocent fallout from the bloody swathe he hacked through the heart of Gotham.

Which choices Jason regrets as his ages and his philosophies change (or don't) remain undetermined, but his unknown dead, his uncounted ghosts, those are the ones he will never be free of.

Headcanon 4: Doesn’t align with canon (or maybe even reality) but I do what I want

Jason is just a hair shorter than Bruce, even once fully grown. Maybe Bruce has slight lifts, who's to say. But Jason will never quite be as tall as his dad.

[bunnymoon-phase]

More for @wyervan 's slasher au! They wondered about the conversation Sun and Moon would have about "dating" one of their targets' partners and my brain kicked into turbo mode.

No warnings except conversations about violence, I think? And suggestive implications?

***

Sun’s there when Moon opens the door to their apartment, standing sharply and marching over to him like a jealous wife. He completes the association by crossing his arms, tapping his toes impatiently. “Where were you?”

Moon doesn’t look at him. He brushes past him, taking off his coat and tossing it over the back of the couch. The distraction doesn’t work; Sun just scowls at the offending piece of clothing as Moon replies. “Walking Star home.”

Sun makes a noise in the back of his throat, high-pitched and laugh-reminiscent. “It’s been hours. It doesn’t usually take hours to walk them seven blocks, Moon.”

He trails him as Moon moves through the dining room and into the kitchen, opening the fridge. Moon hesitates before he confesses. “I kissed them.”

There’s a beat of silence. Sun gives a half-laugh, deadly calm. “You what?”

Moon closes the fridge and stands, leaning against it. “I kissed Esther.”

The idea hasn’t fully settled in yet. Sun blinks at him with those long eyelashes, wide close-lipped smile on his face, giving him an almost manic look. “Why?”

“Thought it’d be funny.”

The anger sets in, then, coloring Sun’s face scarlet as he starts breathing faster, deeper. His smile disappears and he gestures wildly with his arms. “You thought it’d be funny?!”

Moon doesn’t respond. Sun only waits a moment longer. “Was it?!”

He rolls his neck, more for an excuse not to look Sun in the eye when he replies than to pop the joints.

“No,” Moon finally admits.

“Oh! Oh!” Sun’s at the stage of anger where everything is funny to him. “Oh, it wasn’t funny to kiss your employee, Moon?! What a surprise! What a shock! What was it instead?”

His response is quiet, the ghost of sweet lips crushing against his on his mind. “It was addicting.”

Sun makes a violent gesture in the corner of his eye, too apoplectic to speak, and finally takes a deep breath. “That’s the worst response you could have had!”

“I know.”

Sun bends at the side to force himself into Moon’s line of sight, bracing himself on the counter with an arm. “Harrison’s been dead barely a month, Moon!”

“I know.”

“This is going to cast suspicion on you if the cops find out!”

“I know.”

“Wh—I—Moon, you killed her boyfriend!”

“And I’d do it again,” Moon meets Sun’s gaze for a moment, then turns and walks out of the kitchen. Sun follows after him instantly.

“But you understand why you can’t date them—they don’t know, Moon! Despite everything, she loved him—”

“No she didn’t, they told you theirself she was relieved he was gone—”

“—and you’re the one who took him away from her!”

“Oh, and you had no role in the incident?” Moon shot sarcastically.

Sun scoffed. “I’m not the one kissing her out of nowhere!”

“It wasn’t out of nowhere.” Moon crossed his arms. “She asked me to.”

Sun pinched his nose, then gestured emphatically towards him. “That makes it worse!”

Moon shrugged. There was a beat of silence that hung heavy between them, but Sun’s anger seemed to drain. He took a deep breath, sighed heavily, and leaned against the table. “So what, you were just kissing them for four hours?”

Moon cocked his head to the side and leveled his gaze at Sun like a weapon. Sun stared back for a moment, clueless, and Moon raised an eyebrow.

Comprehension dawned. “No.”

Moon dropped his gaze to the floor. Despite himself, he smiled.

Sun’s hands shot into his line of sight, balling into the front of his shirt and yanking him foreward before he realized what was happening. Nose to nose, Sun shook him, and shook him again for good measure. “Are you out of your mind?”

Moon shoved Sun back, and the other man stumbled but didn’t fall. He didn’t grab Moon again but instead advanced on him until he’d cornered him against the wall, intense and whispering. “You’re deceiving them, Moonie.”

Moon sneered. “No I’m not.”

“You’re lying by omission. For all you know, she’d hate you for what we did to Harrison.” Sun’s gaze doesn’t waver. “By pretending you had no hand in his disappearance, you’re giving her the impression you’re someone you’re not. They don’t know who they’re really getting involved with.”

Moon doesn’t answer. Sun takes a step back to give him room to breathe. When he tries to put a hand on his shoulder, Moon smacks it away, and Sun’s face hardens again.

“This can’t happen again, Moon.”

The silence lingers, but it doesn’t feel right. Eventually, Sun steps to the side, and Moon slinks past him. He gets all the way to the living room before he stops again.

“Are you really that concerned about lying to them, or are you just jealous?”

That manic grin spreads over Sun’s face again, joyless. “I beg your pardon?”

Moon crosses his arms again, leaning against the back of the couch. “For all your repression, you don’t hide it well when you’ve got a crush. You just want to keep our little Star all for yourself.”

Sun scoffed, but the laugh had more venom than it usually did, and his ears were turning red. “Even if that were true, it doesn’t change anything. You don’t see me seducing them barely a month after their boyfriend went missing.”

Moon smirked. “Yeah, they didn’t ask you.”

For a brief second, incandescent rage lit Sun up from the inside, like some vision of holy wrath, and Moon worried they were about to get into a real fight—an actual one, instead of petty squabbling and bitching. But just as quickly as the moment came it was gone, and Sun made a disgusted noise as he threw his hands up.

“I’m going to bed,” he announced. Moon didn’t look away from him the whole walk down the hall; Sun stopped in the doorway of his bedroom. “Do whatever you want, Moonie. Just remember that the consequences of your actions always have a second person to reap them.”

The door slammed. Moon gave it a moment before he released the breath he’d been holding. He picked his hoodie up from the couch and fished his phone out of the pocket, checking to see the message he’d been expecting.

Starlight: Are you walking me home again tomorrow?

Despite himself, he smiled.

Dont’t I always?

Starlight: Maybe you could stay a little longer then, too?

The smile broadened.

Maybe.

***

[pollsonmorenichetopics]

Disproportionate Retribution Poll Round 1 Side B:

Odysseus' (The Odyssey) Disproportionate Retribution:

"He was responsible for blinding posiedon’s son after said son attacked his men. The punishment for that self defense was killing his men, attempting to kill him, and forcing him adrift for many years, which, his son was the aggressor, inflicted with an injury that posiedon could heal as opposed to killing Polyphemus."

Danny Fenton's (Danny Phantom) Disproportionate Retribution:

"He cheated on a test and as a result his entire family, all his friends, and the one teacher who genuinely cared about him died in a fast food explosion. He was adopted by his greatest enemy, who he convinced to separate the ghost and human halves of himself to try and lessen the pain, which in retrospect feels a lot like a form of assisted suicide for people who are already dead.

His ghost half killed the human half, fused with his enemy's ghost half, and used their combined power to destroy the entire world. His current fate is indefinite imprisonment in a container the size of a soup thermos. Because he cheated on a test."

"Crime: Cheated on an ungraded test

Punishment: LITERALLY ALL OF HIS FAMILY AND FRIENDS ARE KILLED (during a parent teacher meeting at a fast food restaurant?), he's forcibly adopted by his "rival" (aka the adult man who has repeatedly tortured this 14 year old because he wants to kill Danny's dad and marry his mom) only to have his literal humanity ripped out of him- his ghost fuses with his enemy's ghost half, turns evil, and then VIOLENTLY KILLS HUMAN DANNY (and then destroys the entire world)

Sounds excessive? Yeah! Sure, it could just be tragic coincidences so far, but stick with me. We're going to reset the timeline, we can make this better, right???:

TIMELINE 2:

Crime: THOUGHT ABOUT cheating on an UNGRADED test

Punishment: The Master of Time sends ghosts from the future to ASSASSINATE HIM, then is sent to EXECUTE DANNY HIMSELF (BECAUSE CHEATING ON THE TEST IS THE DIRECT CAUSE OF THE END OF THE WORLD APPARENTLY), but then he THROWS DANNY TEN YEARS INTO THE FUTURE OF THE PREVIOUS TIMELINE TO BE FACED WITH HIS ABSOLUTE WORST FEARS MADE REAL: the entire world was ended by HIM, everyone he's ever loved is DEAD, he was told of everything that happened in this timeline including the forcible adoption and his own death at his own ghost's hands, evil future ghost him TORTURES HIM AND TAKES AWAY HIS ONLY MEANS OF GOING HOME, THEN REPLACES HIM AND TRIES TO MURDER HIS FAMILY to ensure the bad future! Meanwhile Danny is being pummeled by the future versions of his rogues gallery because they think he's the evil version that destroyed their afterlives. Anyway he makes it back eventually (after his rival RIPS THE THING TRAPPING HIM OUT OF HIS CHEST WITH A DEVICE THAT COULD KILL HIM) and his family been captured by this impostor wearing his face, and after fighting for his life he finds out he was too late and HAS TO WATCH EVERYONE HE'S EVER LOVED EXPLODE RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM. Of course then the Master of Time shows up, says it was all a lesson, then resets the timeline to before the test again, leaving Danny with all the memories of what happened to traumatize him into confessing he willingly "stole" the test answers (which he didn't even do, they ended up in his possession due to an accident that only happened BECAUSE HE WAS DEFENDING HIMSELF FROM ONE OF THE FUTURE GHOSTS SENT TO KILL HIM) because he was fully intending to cheat on the test (again, false- his friends accuse and berate him for planning to cheat before he even considered it, which he later only thought about seemingly because he was already being treated as a criminal and he had no time to study since he was busy DEFENDING HIMSELF FROM GHOSTS SENT TO KILL HIM SUPPOSEDLY TO PREVENT THIS SITUATION), because of course that's a proportionate response

Why it's over the top: In what world is physical and psychological torture, kidnapping, repeated attempted murder, permanently traumatizing a child, making them absolutely terrified of themself and setting them up to be their own worst fear, and MORE a reasonable response to ANYTHING, much less a 14 year old kid (who just wants to keep people safe) accidentally acquiring the answer key to an ungraded test?!"

[cod-dump]

They weren’t paying attention to the conversations around them.

Ghost was leaning back against the couch, dead asleep, while Soap leaned against him dozing. Gaz took up the rest of the couch, head resting on Soap’s lap while he stretched out, playing on his phone as he debated on getting up to go to bed.

Nik and Price were talking in the kitchen connected to the lounge, it was hushed as they didn’t want to disturb the boys. Soap was half listening to what they were saying, choosing to mostly focus on Ghost’s steady heartbeat and the slight movement from Gaz as he messed with his phone. It was a lazy evening, no reason to move or not fall asleep.

“Oh? Is Bear coming back?”

For some reason, the hushed tease in Nik’s voice immediately grabbed Soap and Gaz’s attention. Soap blinked and leaned away from Ghost slightly, now fully interested on listening in on the conversation in the neighboring room.

“Shut the fuck up, Nik. Will you ever let that go?”

“Absolutely not.”

Gaz slowly sat up, turning his head to meet Soap’s gaze before they both look over the back of the couch.

“Why not? I miss him,” more teasing followed by Price’s less than pleased growl.

“Too fucking bad.”

The conversation ended after that, Soap and Gaz snapping their heads forward to focus on the long forgotten TV, Price quietly storming out of the lounge behind them. Nik followed not long after, a quiet laugh under his breath. Soap and Gaz sat in silence, the show that played before them still receiving none of their attention.

“Who’s Bear?” Soap asked, turning to look at Gaz.

“I have no idea, never heard of anyone by that name before.”

That intrigued them. Nik and Price’s shared past was full of adventure, stories that would keep them entertained for the rest of their days. But both were rather quiet about everything they went through before the boys came around. Well, except for one.

“Hey, Simon.”

Ghost was awake in an instant, there was no need to poke him to get him awake. He straightened up, on edge before he settled after noticing that there was nothing to be alarmed over.

“Fuck- What?”

“Do you know someone called ‘Bear’?”

Ghost blinks before he snorts, “Please tell me Nik isn’t trying to make Bear come out.”

“So you know him?”

Ghost grins, “Yea, so do you.”

They should’ve known better than to think Ghost was going to give them a straight answer. Instead he smirked before rising off the couch, grabbing his mask off the arm of the couch as he walked around it.

“Simon-!”

“G’night, gentlemen,” teased Ghost before he left the room.

Soap scoffed, “That asshole!”

Gaz just stared in front of him, thinking. Then his eyes widened in realization.

“Is… is Bear Price?”

“… Oh my GOD-“

“He is!”

“So he lied about never picking up a callsign in his rookie days? Why am I even surprised?”

They never heard anyone refer to Price as Bear, not until now. Which makes Soap and Gaz only wonder about why.