#but why is that man waterboarding himself

[highprettybabyy]

Guilty as sin?

natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: nat saves you from an asshole, you thank her by cooking dinner, smut ✨

Warnings: 18+, vomiting, violence, toxic man, sex, masturbation, caught masturbating, fingering, cunnilingus, nat's topping, writing in cum?

AN: i love Guilty as Sin? from TTPD, one of my favs 100%. also i saw someone on tiktok saying that they couldn't waterboard that information out of them that blondie's just confessing in her songs lmao. fkn love her ovulation songs hahaha, anyways plz enjoy.

word count: 4.7k

--//--

The gym was more crowded than usual, a lot of new agents having passed the first level of recruitment, which meant more people in the regular gym. Besides the ‘normal’ gym, there was a specialty gym that was more equipped for super humans in the basement, but you and a few others don’t like the atmosphere and prefer the natural sunlight this gym offers. Hence why one of the cocky new recruits was constantly pestering you.

“You should actually pull your shoulders back more.” He remarked, snide grin on his face as he let his weight fall against the machine you were using. “I think I’m fine, thanks” You muttered out. You wished he’d leave you alone, not in the mood to deal with shit like this today, but he was like a cockroach that wouldn’t leave you be. It’s actually baffling how this guy is still trying to make conversation, your giant noise-cancelling headphones not making it obvious apparently that you wanted to be left alone.

You huffed out in annoyance as he kept on criticising you, disguised as helpful commentary, followed by ‘flirty’ remarks that made you want to barf. He thought he was being slick, the way he kept on looking back to his friends by the weights station, then back to you with a revolting smile on his face. For a second you thought maybe he just wanted to use your equipment, so you grabbed your towel and water before leaving to the leg press. But he had just had to continue his boring, self-inflating, one-sided conversation about how he was top of the program, and that he’d be glad to show you “how it’s really done”.

After 15 minutes of his presence, Natasha walked in, and somehow time stood still as your soul felt the redhead walk in, eyes instantly connecting. You smiled for the first time that day, the mere sight of the redhead calming every tense nerve in your body. Her firm gaze softened upon meeting yours, to most people her expression looked unmoved but you knew she had a little soft spot for you. She nodded slightly in greeting before moving to the treadmills by the entrance of the gym.

The guy still hadn’t taken the hint. “You’ve gotta place your feet closer together actua-“ “Hey, dude I’m sorry, but I’m just trying to work out in peace here, if you don’t mind?” You kept calm as you removed your headphones to directly speak to him, offering a curt smile to try to not upset him too much. He didn’t seem to like that too much, raising his voice as he told you that he was just trying to help and make conversation. You frowned at that, stating that a conversation is between two people and that he’s been talking uninterrupted for the last 20 minutes.

Natasha took notice of the slight change in her surroundings as a lot of people became uncomfortable from his behaviour. She shut off the treadmill and walked over to investigate where the noise came from. “Whatever bitch, you’re just jealous that I’m fucking better than you, you were probably one of the last in the recruitment program anyway.” He spat. Before you could retort a very angry Natasha Romanoff stood in between you, staring him down.

He shrank slightly under her piercing gaze as she crossed her arms, but he still wasn’t backing down completely. “What do you want?” He scoffed, pretending as if he wasn’t about to wet himself. “Your name and recruitment ID.” She simply stated, posture unwavering. “I’m not telling you that.” “Oh well ok then, how about we spar for it?” She asked, head tilting slightly. He barked out a laugh “Hah, I don’t fight women.” You decided to jump in, you couldn’t wait to see Nat pound this guy into the floor. (although you wished that she pounded you into the floor instead, wink, wink)

“Aww, someone’s scared.” You pouted, hoping to rile this unrightfully smug guy up. “I’m not fucking scared of some chick! Alright then, fucking bring it on!”

-

The boxing ring quickly cleared out seeing the Black Widow and some temperamental 6’3”toddler approach, with you skipping just a few steps behind them. They each took their position across each other before the referee signalled they could start. The douchebag immediately went for the offense, Natasha effortlessly dodging everything he threw. Only futile efforts were made from his part. You could see the desperation in his fighting, using illegal techniques and effectively making the ref yell at him. You’re honestly surprised that Natasha hadn’t beaten him to a pulp yet, you would’ve knocked him out before the sound of the whistle could register in his head. But Natasha is a paradox, and she has her reasons.

He huffed loudly, frustrated under the watchful eyes of his buddies, who started laughing at his antics. “Come on, you dodgy bitch!” Echoed through the room, followed swiftly by a loud smack and thud. Natasha bent down to pull his ID from his vest pocket. “Tyler West, 1109.” She dropped the card on his face while he was still down, before hopping out of the ring.

“Why did you take so long, Nat, he could have been out since the starting whistle?” You joked, a large smile covering your face, while you collected your things to leave. “Now where’s the fun in that, Y/N?” She retorted. “No, but seriously thank you, I was this close-“ you accentuated by basically pressing your fingers together “to losing my shit completely.”

The rasp in her voice was audibly heard as she chuckled. “Anytime, Y/N.” God- that voice. You smiled up at her as her woodsy perfume entered your airways, effectively paralysing you. Piercing emerald eyes looked down at you. Your tongue unconsciously darted out to wet your lips, an action not unnoticed by the redhead in front of you. “I’ll make sure he gets fired for his behaviour, he shouldn’t even have passed the recruitment test with how shitty he was acting.” You looked down as Natasha still felt traces of anger flowing through her, but the touch of your hesitant hand grabbing hers calmed her down quickly.

“How about I cook you dinner tonight as a thank you?” You fiddled with her hand a bit before looking up again hopefully. Natasha’s lips quirked up, before nodding and stating that that would be lovely. You smiled again, a very tender moment that was rudely interrupted by West throwing up from the concussion. Your smile turned into a look of disgust. “I’m going to go now. I’ll see you tonight.”

-

As you were preparing dinner for you and Natasha, Wanda walked into the kitchen. “Hmmm, smells nice detka. What are you making?” You greeted the witch with a smile. “Some slow braised pork belly for ramen.” Wanda raised her eyebrows, “Wow, what’s the occasion?” You looked down with a blush spreading quickly to your cheeks as you thought about the earlier events. “Well, Nat helped me with something earlier today, so I’m cooking dinner to thank her.” Wanda grinned.

“So you’re finally confessing??” She exclaimed with joy. “NO.” You glared jokingly at your best friend, making her burst out in laughter. She is.. aware of your feelings for Natasha, to say the least. “Come on, how long are you planning to wait until you’re going to express your longings to her?” This time you laughed, “HAH, I’m keeping these longings locked inside a vault. For evermore.” Scoffingly crossing your arms to accentuate your point. Wanda rolled her eyes lightly before you spoke up again after tasting your broth. “Plus she doesn’t even like me how I like her.”

Wanda’s hand smacked against her face in frustration. “Y/N omg just ask her.” You took another spoon and dipped it in the broth, softly blowing on it to cool it down before handing it to the annoyed witch. “No.” You said as she sipped the contents of the spoon. “Damn, that’s good.” You smiled in victory as you stirred the pot again. “How did she help you to deserve such a delicatesse? I’m doing that next time.”

“She euhm- there was this shitty guy bothering me at the gym, and she knocked him out.” Wanda stared at you wide-eyed, thinking of taking you to a specialist ophthalmologist because you must be fucking blind to not see all the signs. “Oh, and she’s getting him fired.” You pulled your lips in a tight smile as you waited for Wanda to react. She turned around and left the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to say “Only your actions talk.” before walking off.

-

You had about 30 minutes until dinner, having agreed to eat at 7. Ok, ok. Pork belly is resting. Bowls are preheating. Soy marinated eggs are in the fridge. Chili oil is cooling down. Scallion: sliced. Yellow chili: sliced. Tiny bakchoi: prepped. Broth is simmering. Bean sprouts… are bean sprouting.. I feel like I’m forgetting something..

You looked around, everything was clean, you had a candle going on the table and everything except the bowls was already laid out. You looked down and saw the mess on your clothes.

CLOTHES! O M G. Ok shit what am I going to wear, what is she going to wear? Omfg how much time do I have left. I look like shit. ‘She’s going to laugh at me - Jezus she’s not going to laugh at you, it’s Nat. – Yes she is, who wouldn’t? look at me? There’s soy sauce on my pants! – Let’s fucking change first before she gets here! –‘

“Oh my god Y/N if you don’t stop fucking spiralling I’m going to hurt you.” Wanda called out in a sing song voice. You looked at her, a bit in shock, before realisation struck over you and you gave her a cheeky smile. “Sorry, I didn’t realise.” She grabbed your hand and pulled you towards your room.

-

After rummaging through your closet for a few minutes, you hadn’t found anything that felt right to wear. You were getting frustrated and you felt like throwing yourself to the ocean rocks. “Wait here.” Wanda ordered you as she walked out the door. She returned a few minutes later, with a stunning flowy green dress. “Oh Wanda you absolute angel! This is gorgeous, where did you get this?” You thanked her furiously, kissing her cheek until she pulled away in annoyance. “I had it laying in my closet, I was going to wear it on a date with an ex of mine, but we broke up before I could wear it so.” She explained.

“Oh, are you sure I can wear it? I can find something else?” You hesitated, trying to hand the dress back to Wanda. “Of course it’s alright, I can use this in my maid of honour speech when you guys get married.” She laughed as you rolled your eyes, thanking her again. She wished you good luck, leaving you to get changed and finish your look.

-

You finished in the nick of time, rushing back to the kitchen were you bumped into someone. Yeah, it was Natasha. “Woah there.” She held you upright as you almost fell. “Omg hi Nat, I’m sorry for crashing into you.” You finally were able to take a good look at each other. Natasha wore a tight black button-up and black suit pants and again her scent invaded your nose stronger than ever. You took a shaky breath, heavily affected by the sight and smell of her.

You failed the way Natasha’s eyes raked over you. “You look beautiful, Y/N.” Your gaze snapped up to hers. “I- well, I- Thanks Natty.”

-

You took the bowls out of the oven with oven mitts, carefully plating the ramen noodles, everything (culinary wise) was running smoothly. You ushered a curious Natasha to the table, wanting to surprise her with the presentation. It looked beautiful when you brought it to the table, placing it delicately in front of the redhead, then placing your bowl down. You took off the oven mitts and tossed them on the counter before sitting down to see Natasha entranced by the sight. “Y/N… this looks, and smells, so fucking good.” She groaned out in a deep and husky voice. Your mouth dropped open at her tone, it sent shivers down your spines and through your bones.

“Thank you so much, Y/N, you really didn’t have to.”  She looked at you softly, entranced by the way the candle flickered in your y/e/c eyes. The window behind you was cracked open, letting in a soft early spring breeze that caused the occasional shiver to run over your arms. You nervously bit at your nail as you waited for Natasha’s reaction. She softly smiled as she lifted her chopsticks to her mouth.

Strangely this was the first time Natasha was tasting something that you cooked. She usually orders something, or Wanda brings her something, or Tony orders catering, stuff like that. But after tasting the ramen, she moaned.

Your face flushed quickly, so did hers after realising what she’d just let escape. She coughed nervously, “Wow, this is good.” You didn't dare look into her eyes as you thanked her, trying to hide your obvious blush from the watchful spy in front of you.

-

After you finished dinner you were saying your goodbyes. Natasha leaned down to kiss your cheek. “I hope I get the chance more often to taste your cooking.” You smiled and retorted “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

You talked for a few more minutes before saying good night to each other and going your separate ways, even though your rooms are next to each other. But Natasha had to go check on something in Tony’s office before she could call it a night.

-

You were laying on your bed, half naked. You took off the dress and your shoes after the ‘date’ and tried to cool off on your bed in just your bra and underwear. You dragged your hands over your face. But every time you closed your eyes, the image of Natasha in that tight shirt haunted you. This triggered a train of thoughts. Natasha in tight clothing, Natasha working out and sweating, Natasha taking a protective stance in front of you, Natasha’s gaze earlier. You must be seeing visions.

I’m going mad.

Every frame in your head made you hotter and hotter.

Natasha crashed through the door, her wild gaze found you and in only a few long strides she reached you, cupping your face before devouring you. Her hands gripped your waist possessively, roaming towards your back as you melted into her grasp. You let out an soft moan as her tongue explored your mouth. Your actions turned fast and desperate, messy top lip kisses as the sounds reverberated through the dimly lit room.

“Please.” You sighed out as Natasha moved her lips to mark your neck. She moved you backwards until your knees hit the bed. You fell and dragged Natasha on top of you. Her weight pressing you into the mattress was comforting and she pressed you further down as she devoured you. Her hand came up to grip your jaw, keeping you in place as she explored your mouth. Pulling delicious sounds out of you with every action.

Your hand travelled south, slipping underneath the fabric of your underwear as your eyes were forcibly shut close, trying to visualise the scenario in your head. “Oh, Nat-“ Your other hand gripped your jaw, like the way Natasha did in your fantasy.

“Please Natty-“ You pleaded, finally opening your eyes to look at her. Her eyes were hooded as she took the sight of you in. “What baby, ask nicely.” She said, mouthing at your exposed collar bone. “Please, take me.” She groaned against as soon as your words registered in her head. “Yeah? Want me to take you? Make you feel good?” You nodded desperately, pulling her face back in to kiss her. A high whine leaving your throat.

Her hand quickly pulled your underwear down, her face following quickly, placing open-mouthed kisses on every patch of naked skin she could reach. She wrapped her hands around your thighs, locking you in place before dragging her tongue through your sopping wet folds.

“OH, Oh – Oh my god Nat. Please- please” You were whimpering out, your fingers collecting your arousal before rubbing it on your clit teasingly.

“You taste so good baby.” Natasha husked out. She was building you up so slowly, but so strongly. It was like she knew your body better than you did. Your breathing became laboured, seemingly struggling to handle the way she was building you up to something that would feel like a supernova exploding through you. The redhead noticed of course, pulling away to place a kiss against on your hip. “Breathe for me, gorgeous.” She said as she inserted a finger into you. It’s like she wanted you to fail.

You gasped, one hand grabbing at her forearm as the other held the sheets in a white-knuckle grip. A tear slipped down from your eyes and into your ears. She felt so fucking good. “God you’re gripping me so tight, malysh, all for me.” You whined as she inserted another finger into you, slowly thrusting in and out of you. “Yours.”

The sight of you made her feral, your chest quickly rising and falling as she pulled so many delicious sounds and gasps from you. It came to a point where her tempo became unrelenting as all you could do was lay there and take everything she gave you. The sloshing sounds reverberated through the room and the atmosphere reeked of sex.

She moved up so she could kiss you again, missing the feeling of your lips against hers. You could hardly kiss her back, overwhelmed by the feeling of her skin against yours and her fingers unravelling you. “Hmm you’re almost there aren’t you? You wanna cum princess? You wanna cum for me?” She moaned against your neck, licking a stripe up to your jaw and then behind your ear before biting the sensitive skin there, which is what brought you over the edge. You shook against her, waves of pleasure crashing over you. It felt surreal, like your spirit left your body for a brief second. You thought this was the perfect way to die.

“OH NATASHA!“ You screamed out in pleasure. Fingers rubbing tight circles over your sensitive nub. You were convulsing, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your veins. Your chest was heaving as you rubbed your non-occupied hand across your body, hoping it would calm you down enough to remove the black spots from your vision. You felt hot, the sheets underneath you feeling like they’re on fire.

She pulled her fingers slowly out of you, so you wouldn’t be shocked into the empty feeling. While making hard eye contact she took her cum-covered index finger to write ‘mine’ on your upper thigh, before moving her fingers up to her face to suck them clean.

“Y/N, are your okay??” Natasha called out as she burst through the door. She wasn’t expecting the sight in front of her. You sprawled across your bed, hand in your panties, sweaty and panting. Your eyes shot open in terror. Natasha quickly realising her misstep as she made eye contact with you. You quickly covered up with a blanket that was laying beside you.

“Nat, omg, hi- what-“ You stuttered out, you don’t think you can play this off anymore. “Y/N, I’m so sorry but I thought I heard you calling my name..?” She looked at you apologetically. The blood rushed into your cheeks, tinting them maroon. “I- euhm, well-“ You stammered. Natasha being the professionally trained spy that she is, quickly put two and two together after her initial chock.

“Oh, you were calling my name then?” She crossed her arms and kicked the door shut, suddenly a lot more confident that you might return her feelings. You were sure that the amount of blood that rushed to your face was harmful. “This is an interesting predicament I have found you in, malyshka.. Screaming my name? With your fingers buried in that pretty pussy? Hmm?”

She inched closer to you as you didn’t seem to object. “Were you thinking of me?” Natasha asked. You saw the way her eyes were looking at you now, pupils dilated so much that her irises looked black. The way her mouth hung open slightly as she took you in. Maybe Wanda was right, maybe Natasha did like you. You didn’t want to leave her hanging any further, insecurity slowly creeping up the redhead’s spine, thinking she might’ve been dreaming that her affections were mutual.

You nodded slowly, and the spy beamed. “Yeah? You were? – Use your words, baby.” She asked as you started nodding again. “Yeah, I-I was..” You turned very shy, forcefully closing your eyes and gripping the blanket that barely covered you until your knuckles turned white. “Hmm, and what was I doing?”

“Y-you were touching me.. making me feel good..” She was standing next to you now, eyes looking down at you with an indescribable look of hunger. You looked up at her, and the aura in the room turned hot. “And how was I doing that exactly, sweetheart?” She asked as she sat down next to you, the blanket falling of your body slightly, exposing new skin that Natasha can admire.

If you were reading the signs wrong, you were going into the Canadian woods to throw yourself to the wolves.

“Like this.” You grabbed her hand with the one that you used to get off mere minutes ago, fingers still sticky from your arousal, and manoeuvred it inside your panties, before taking two of her fingers and sliding them against you.

Natasha looked absolutely and desperately feral now, swallowing the large lump in her throat to try and ground herself. She moaned as she took over control, rubbing her fingers up and down your slippery folds. You removed your hand as Natasha continued her administrations, using your other hand to grab hers to intertwine your fingers. “Y/N, baby, this wet from only thinking about me?”

You let out a whine while nodding, “Please.” You don’t know what you were begging for, your mind was already partially gone from your first orgasm, Natasha could take the reins. Maybe that’s why you were begging, begging for her to take control.

She brought your hand up, kissing each knuckle before pulling both of her hands away. You whined and shook your head. “N-No please don’t leave me, please I need you, I love you. I can’t-“ “Hey, hey, I’m not going anywhere. Y/N” Natasha interrupted you before it hit her. “Y-you love me?” There were tears in your eyes, suddenly overcome with emotions as you nodded again. You mistook her momentary silence as rejection as you started pulling your knees up to your chest, but they were forced down again as Natasha leaped against you, kissing you hard.

Rivulets kept streaming from your eyes as you kissed, fusing Natasha’s delicious taste with the saltiness from your tears. She eventually pulled away, breathing short and heavy. “I love you too, Y/N.” Your lips turned upwards and the sad tears turned into happy ones as you professed your love again. She pulled you in again, embracing you in her strong arms, as she placed gentle kisses to the side of your face.

You grabbed her jaw to move her lips to yours again. She immediately deepened the kiss, her tongue exploring your mouth greedily. She manoeuvred herself so she could lay between your legs, which wrapped around her waist. Natasha could feel the heat radiating from your core and she had never been turned on this much.

“Let me show you how much I love you.” She sighed out against your lips, her hand travelling south again to pull your underwear off. She nipped your collarbone as she shoved your underwear in her pocket, before slipping her fingers between your folds again.

“Oh, Nat.” You breathed out, and you felt her smile against you. She lowered her mouth to your breasts, which were still covered by your bra. This didn’t seem to bother her, as she simply dragged it down to free your breasts, instantly wrapping her lips around your hardening nipples. “Oh, oh, Natty, oh.” You were a whining, blabbering mess. Natasha unravelling you so delicately.

Just as she used her teeth to graze your nipple, she inserted two fingers into you. You gasped loudly, reaching down to grab Natasha’s back harshly with your nails. Even though she’s still fully clothed, she hissed from the sudden sting. You were clawing at her, the urge to feel her skin overwhelming but you couldn’t find the words, instead letting out desperate whines, in hope she’d understand.

Luckily for you, she did, and she took off her jacket and shirt, leaving your hands free to roam her skin. She kissed you briefly again before finally travelling down to taste you. She laid between your legs, grabbing a pillow and signalling you to lift your hips. She placed the pillow underneath you and grabbed your thighs to pull you down.

She sighed contently, placing a delicate kiss above your mound, followed by biting at your inner thighs. She took her time, placing marks everywhere she wanted while you were whining and trying to move your hips closer to her mouth. “Patience, malyshka, I want to take my time with you.” You couldn’t think, lost in the way her mouth feels on you. You couldn’t wait for when she’d finally delve between your folds again. Only breathless pleads left your mouth.

“Please- please” You chanted while searching for something to hold, Natasha offered her hand again and placed it on your lower abdomen, which you gratefully grabbed with both of your hands. Natasha kept teasing you until you finally looked down. She was already looking up at you, “Atta girl.”

A breathless moan escaped you, followed by high pitched whimpers, as Natasha finally dragged her tongue over your sensitive clit. She explored your sex, a combination of kissing, nipping, broad or pointed strokes of her tongue, inside, outside, everything. This woman was devouring you like she’d been starving her entire life. This felt like the beginning of the end, like you would die if she continued, but if she stopped you were sure you’d suffer the same fate. And dying with her tongue shoved deep inside you was better than any other option laid out on the table.

Her free hand had loosened around your leg, and was actively travelling to where Nat was unfolding you. She removed her tongue, but quickly silenced your upcoming whines and protests by stretching you out on her fingers. You squeezed Natasha’s hand hard enough to bruise, and she pressed her hand down lightly to put pressure on your lower stomach. You felt so, so full.

She even started scissoring her fingers to fully rub against your walls, and you screamed out “NAT- OH, OH”. “I know my sweet girl, you are so close aren’t you, I can feel you squeezing my fingers, I can hardly move them.” You were aimlessly nodding to everything she said. “Yes, YES- PLEASE” She adjusted her head a bit, kissing your hip before wrapping her lips around your clit and sucking. “NATASHA-“ You let out a strangled cry, cumming around her fingers.

You were right, you died for a moment, you were sure of it. Your breath halted as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over your grave, your entire body convulsing. Natasha used the hand that you were crushing to rub over your hip and ribcage, hoping to calm you down. You finally gasped in a breath of air and searched for her hand to hold again. You were still breathing hard as you looked down at soft emerald eyes.

She slowly pulled out of you and sucked all except one of her fingers clean, using that one to write ‘mine’ on the place you fantasised about.

[mochinek0]

Drama-Bomb: Part 3

Marinette could feel the tension in the dining hall, as soon as she entered. A man, very similar to Damian, was at the head of the table. On his left was his mother and on the right were three gentleman; obviously his brothers from the way he described them. She could feel everyone's gaze on her immediately.

'Why did he decide now of all times to tell them about us?'

"So, how did you two meet?" Dick asked, immediately after Marinette had sat down.

"Dick!" growled Bruce.

"What we're all curious?" he defended himself, "Shouldn't we ask?"

"I see you gave them nothing." Marinette turned towards Damian.

"Was I suppose to?" he questioned, "I seem to recall a similar situation. Waterboarding would have been a better experience.

Mari giggled, "Maman was not that bad, not this quick, either. "

"Your father's size, at the very least, would have been enough." Damian recalled.

"I told you he looked big, but was a teddy bear." she smiled.

"Father is big." Damian stated, "You're father rivals Bane."

"Teddy Bear." Mari sang back.

Damian sighed. He knew he wasn't going to win this argument. He looked up to see his family was already examining their body language and mannerisms.

The Waynes remained silent. Damian and his girlfriend seemed close. She was teasing Damian and he wasn't getting upset. Apparently, he was secure enough to meet her parents. How long ago, they had no idea.

She turned towards Dick, "We met at university."

"How long have you been dating?" Tim asked next, "Apparently, Damian mentioned years? I was asleep when he told us."

"Two, almost three." she answered, calmly.

The Waynes sat there in shock. They knew Damian wasn't one to joke, but how had they not noticed him in a relationship for that long. How had he snuck out and left on dates?

'Have we gotten sloppy?'

Damian leaned closer to her, "They like to pry into every detail. They feel offended I was able to keep you a secret for so long."

Mari just giggled.

"What made you ask him out?" Jason questioned.

Marinette sighed, "Seems you've misunderstood. Damain asked me out."

She noticed that seemed to have caught them all off guard, even his mother.

Offended, Damian huffed, "I have eyes; thank you."

"Uh, De-Damian…same question." Jason spoke.

"Her creativity and intelligence." He announced.

"Huh?" Dick replied.

"We have business classes together." the youngest explained, "She has a unique way of looking at problems and strategizing her work."

"Why did you say yes?" Tim asked, quickly.

Damian's girlfriend smiled, "I like how honest he is."

"I mean," Jason shrugged, "that's one way to say 'offend people'."

"More like he is blunt with his words." Mari replied, "He doesn't mix his words or hide behind lies. It's not something everyone likes. People like to hear what they want, not what they need."

That wasn't the answer they had been expecting.

Talia sipped on her wine, "You know, Dear, you could do so much better."

"Mother!" Damian growled out.

Marinette remained silent and looked down at her plate.

'I guess everyone else thinks the same. They're all so quiet. His dad has just been looking at me and hasn't even asked me a question.'

"Silence, Damian." Talia remarked, "I was talking to Marinette."

'What?'

Marinette looked up towards Talia. She could see Jason cackling out of the corner of her eyes. She quickly looked at her boyfriend and surprisingly, he looked offended.

"My Dear," his mother continued, "if I have learned anything, is that these Wayne Boys, adopted or not, have the emotional compatibility of a gold fish. Something is always making them late for a date or they have to reschedule, last moment. Holidays like Valentine's Day or Anniversaries are not a priority for them; it's just another day to forget."

Marinette could see Bruce's face turning red and him attempting to shrink into the background. She couldn't help the snort and started laughing.

"Habibiti?" Damian asked, concerned.

"Relax, Damian." Mari smiled, "I'm sure your mother is just watching out for you. You mentioned your parents don't live together so she's sharing her experience. They do have a lot of questions; I believe my parents interrogated you as well."

Damian leaned against the back of his chair, "Tch."

They watched in amazement as Damian's girlfriend seemed to have some sort of command over him. He didn't talk back or complain. Talia watched as the boy she had raised fall in line with his lover. The feeling eased Bruce a tiny bit about the whole dinner.

"If our relationship were to continue, in the future, I'll sign whatever prenup you want me to, as long as my lawyer looks it over first." Marinette explained, trying to ease the tension in the room.

"Huh?" spoke a confused Tim.

"Well," Mari began, "Damian isn't as……extroverted as Mr. Wayne, but a woman does need her own reassurance."

"Such as?" Bruce asked, not sure if he liked what the answer was going to be.

"Damian keeps the Wayne fortune and I keep the money I make from my own business. I'll even keep my maiden name, if that's your desire." she stated, "Many woman want money, power or fame. Others…..revenge."

"And you?" Jason prodded.

"Let's just say if Damian were to follow in his father's….playboy theatrics," she smiled, "he would spend the rest of his life in regret and searching for someone who would never be found again."

Bruce cleared his throat.

'No wonder Damian told me not to use the 'Brucie' persona. She was definitely not a fan.'

"I don’t know." Dick chimed in, "He has the money and the power….the resources."

Marinette opened her mouth, but Damian shouted, "Enough!"

He turned to her and kept his gaze on his girlfriend, "Instantly?" he questioned.

Marinette glared at him, "Damian, you would be lucky if that's all I do. Adrien knows damn well how I get when I'm angry. I can and will leave you in a pile of ash, should you turn into my enemy. If you touch one of the few people I despise, beyond reason, I'll leave half your body on your mother's doorstep and the other, here, on the manor steps."

The room fell silent, with a bated breath for Damian's reaction.

"Understood, Habibiti." he replied.

"What if it's for a business meeting?" Dick quickly questioned.

He quickly found himself on the other end of Marinette's glare. He found he didn't like it and understood why Damian had caved. It was worse than Bruce's silence and Alfred's disappointment stance.

"Damian knows how to speak up for himself and say no. He doesn't like unknown people in his personal space and I respect his boundaries." Mari declared, "The fact that you have to ask me, tell me you still haven't learned this and you don't know your brother at all. The only thing that will happen is he will harbor resentment towards you."

"And if Damian chooses to come live with me?" Talia asked, shifting the focus.

"Fashion is universal." Mari smiled, "I can buy materials and sell from anywhere. I've had my own clients since I was thirteen."

Plagg zipped out from his hiding place, "Give me cheese, already! I'm tired of the back and forth when they all know."

"Plagg!" Damian hissed.

He turned to see his holder's family looking confused and frozen.

"Oh, they didn't know." he guessed.

"No they didn't!" Damian growled, reaching for him, "You're not getting your cheese now!"

"No!" Plagg cried, and quickly flew at Damian's face.

He latched on and whined, "It's your fault! You didn't feed me!"

"You didn't feed him!" Marinette asked, glaring at him.

The family watched the back and forth argument, trying to grasp what was going on. It was like Damian was being scolded for not feeding a child; no, not just a child, their child.

"I fed him!" Damian argued back.

Marinette gave him a pointed look.

"He fed me 'string cheese'!" Plagg cried out, "It didn't even taste like cheese. It was peelable! Bug, your husband is a menace to society!"

Marinette sighed, "That’s' why he's your holder."

'Wait! Damian's married!'

'Since when did he get a floating cat?'

'What is that thing?'

'How does she know what it is and why is Damian taking care of it?'

'If Demon Brat being a menace is a good thing. That thing isn't so good.'

Talia smiled, raising her glass, "Seems I underestimated you."

"Yes, you did." Marinette spoke, keeping her eyes on Talia.

The last thing she expected was for Damian's mother to say was, "Welcome to the family."

"Wait!" shouted Jason, "What?"

Marinette sighed, "Come out, Tikki. Might as well, since Plagg's stomach got him in trouble again."

The Batfam watched as a giant ladybug flew from out of nowhere and yanked on the floating cat's eat, chastising him.

"What are they?" Time questioned.

"Kwamis." Talia spoke, "Or Gods, to be precise."

Marinette glanced at Damian's mother. Talia held up her hands in surrender, briefly.

"Seems my son is much more tact when it comes to this relationships." she declared, with a smile "To think you hid a marriage from both of us."

Bruce tensed. He had forgotten the flying cat had called him that.

'He hadn't known Damian was dating. He didn't know he had gotten married. What else didn't he know about his son?'

Bruce looked over at his son and noticed his ear tips had turned red.

"Uh, that's Plagg's nickname for him." Marinette spoke, clearly embarrassed, "We're not….actually married."

Bruce relaxed more into his seat.

"We should-" he began.

Mari declared, "They won't be picked up on any recording devices, visually or audio."

"Alfred!" Jason shouted, "Bring out the hard liquor."

Bruce just nodded. He hadn't expected anything that had happened this week. His son was dating someone with access to Gods. Talia was sitting at the dinner table like she had always lived there. The girlfriend obviously knew who they all were and about his son's questionable past. A drink sound like a good idea.

[jellyfishinc]

Interesting Deleted Scenes/Details from The Menu

Lillian wasn't completely exaggerating when she said she put Chef on the map: He had another high end restaurant before Hawthorne, called Tantalus. Got 2 Michelin stars 2 years in, then closed up shop. Isn't heard from again until 3 years later, running a taco truck in Portland. He agreed to the interview only if he could keep his privacy, his own land, and it had to be by the water so he could source his own fish.

It's established the movie star has a peanut allergy during the tour, and this turns out to be setup for the menu's eighth course, where Felicity is ordered to force feed him a dish completely comprised of peanuts so as to kill him through anaphylactic shock.

Anne (wife of man who paid Margot to look like his daughter while jacking him off) actually couldn't eat The Island as is due to a shellfish allergy. Hers was salmon.

The broken emulsion gag escalates to where the servers literally waterboard Lillian with it.

The restaurant has hidden cameras in the dining room, so even if Elsa missed something, it still got caught.

The taco truck Chef was running was, according to him, the happiest he'd ever been, but Margot call him out on it later, asking why he parked his truck at a Food Expo where he KNEW food critics were going to be, if he wanted to be left alone.

Man's Folly was supposed to have more details about a woman chef's actual experience in the kitchen, from harassment to stereotypes.

The women DO get bread with Man's Folly, and it IS as delicious as promised. You can even see Tyler chewing on bread when Chef comes up to confront him afterwards.

Not only did Tyler bring Margot knowing she would die, he sincerely thought Chef was going to spare him. And even when called out on it, he STILL didn't apologize or take it back, because all he cared about was experiencing the menu.

Them all coming to the kitchen to watch Tyler screw himself over wasn't originally in the script. They were just supposed to watch from the dining room.

Margot makes another bid for her life before being ordered to go get the barrel. Which Chef appreciates enough to tell her so.

Margot smiles upon seeing Tyler's hanging.

Lillian realizes she's never going to get to write about this last experience, and THAT ends up being her real just desserts.

Instead of dropping the ashes to set it all on fire, Chef originally drops a match.

We never found out Margot's true fate. The boat literally stopped a half mile away, so she was stuck there.

The last scene is of firefighters combing through the burnt wreckage, and the very last thing we see is the one photo of Chef as a young man, flipping a burger, but happy.

[iamnmbr3]

I reached the Snape's Worst Memory chapter. Honestly I find this to be one of the hardest things to read in the whole series. The protracted, wanton cruelty is awful - and especially horrifying is the way most people in the scene look on and do nothing, or laugh.

The fact that Snape can never just relax on a nice day. He has to hide himself in the shadows for fear of being attacked and tormented is so sad.

We know what kind of person Wormtail grew up to be and we see here that he was always attracted to hanging around powerful, cruel people who could provide him with sadistic entertainment. He traded James & Sirius for Voldemort once he got out of school of course. But I think it says a lot about the kind of people they were at the time. This wasn't an isolated incident that went especially far, but a regular type of entertainment.

It's really just sick what happens here. They're basically magically waterboarding him at this point. James is exactly the kind of person Harry would have stood up to if they'd gone to school at the same time. I mean after this memory he is so shaken he falls into a depression and wonders if James and Lily ended up together because he forced himself on her.

And to be clear I actually like the narrative potential of Harry discovering that the father he looked up to so much actually was the type of person he despises. I wish a bit more had been done with this though.

The fact that James takes out his frustration with Lily's rejection by tormenting and humiliating Snape more says a lot about him. I also think it's really interesting Sirius is the one who says "[i]f you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals" but he never really connects that sentiment with how he and James treated Snape.

(As an aside I will also never get why JKR thinks James and Sirius are redeemable for this behavior even though we never get to see anything in canon to prove that James or Sirius ever truly acknowledged the depth of how wrong what they did was or regretted it, but somehow she gets all mad at people for suggesting that Draco, who did canonically regret his actions and change his ways and who never did anything like this, was anything other than irredeemable.)

[themultifanshipper]

hello it's me again! requesting for the 2nd time for a Sebastian Vettel fic (I'm horrendously down bad for this man🙇‍♀️) could you please do Rb!Seb x Button!reader because I'm a sucker for brother's best friend trope. Jenson invites Seb over after a night out of partying and he stays there for a couple of days. Seb has a couple of small interactions with reader mostly Jenson stepping in which it doesn't lead into something more lol. so here's the juicy part reader accidentally walks in on Seb taking a bath and like she's so embarrassed she decides to( lock herself in her room even Jenson was concerned. Seb decides to talk to reader alone in her room and it leads to them passionately making out so they have their little "we shouldn't be doing this" "your brother doesn't have to know" moment LOL and they uh do it ig.

this is awkward to even ask for I feel like squidward begging for change in that one ep 😭 like I feel so GUILTY LMAO but anyways please don't rush yourself into writing this please do it in your own pace I really don't mind waiting 🫶 I also would like to say how much I adore your writing and the effort you put into your work so I understand if it takes a while to write all of this down. Don't forget to take yourself as well while you're writing 🩷🩷 -🐇

You had seen Seb in a number of embarrassing situations and positions, him being your brother’s best friend ever since he joined F1, but this was definitely the first time you had seen him quite this naked.

Warnings: Uhhhhhh… I don’t know what came over me I’ll be honest, Seb is super dominant in this one guys, like… overstimulation, praise kink, degrading a bit? Slapping? I need to be waterboarded in holy water at this point, I fear… the dialogue is cringe enough to make me question my worth as a person (this was written at 3 am)also I think I overused the word princess but oh well

Jenson and Seb were partying for a few days to wind down during winter break after an intense season, and you partied with them. You were much younger than your brother, he was in his early 30s and you only 21, so you were technically closer to Seb’s age, which led to a friendship blossoming between the two of you. You’d been on numerous trips and holidays with the pair of them, and you’d been to a fair few races to cheer them on.

Of course with the proximity and the similar ages, Jenson was terrified that Seb would try something with you, and he threatened him several times over the course of their friendship. Him being so much older than you meant he was extremely protective, sometimes bordering on overbearing. And you noticed that as you got older, Jenson rarely left you and Seb alone in the same room for more than 5 minutes without checking in on whether you “needed a drink” or “have you seen my charger? I swear I left it near your stuff could you please look for me thanks” …

This particular weekend had been quite intense, the three of you going out several nights in a row, and you finally managed to get some alone time in the peace and quiet of your brother’s house while the boys went to pick up some pizza for dinner before you all went out again afterward.

Which is why you were so shocked when you opened the bathroom door to pee and got an eyeful of Seb in the bath, very naked, and with the way his hand flew out of the water (splashing half the room in the process) you were pretty sure he had just been caught touching himself. You had caught him. Touching himself.  In the bath.  Naked.  In the bath naked, touching himself.  In your bathroom.  You had caught him touching himself in your bathroom, in the bath.  Naked.

It took you a few seconds to absorb the situation before you shouted “Oh my god! I am so sorry!” and covered your eyes (about 30 seconds too late but it’s the thought that counts!) before backing out and shutting the door, ignoring Seb’s yells about it being his fault for not locking the door.

You hightailed it straight to your bedroom and slammed the door, locked it, and slid to the floor, with your head in your hands.

…

Seb’s dick.

…

That’s the only thought your mind could conjure up for the next several minutes. You didn’t even get a great look at it, being more entranced by the blush quickly spreading down Seb’s neck and toned chest at your intrusion, and it was distorted by the rippling water, but it was there. It existed. And now it refused to leave your mind for even a second.

That’s when you heard the tell-tale noise of the front door closing and Jenson coming back from his pizza run. He called out for you, but the lack of an answer made him come looking for you.

He knocked on your door and tried opening it but failed, immediately making him worry.

“You alright in there, love? I’ve got the pizzas” he spoke softly through the door.

You huffed, you really didn’t want to face Seb after that, so you played the illness card.

“I really don’t feel well Jense, I’m going to sit this one out!” you called out.

He frowned, you seemed fine 20 minutes ago when he left. “You sure? I got you your favourite!” “I’m sorry! You can have it, and you two go have fun tonight! I need to sleep last night off, and I’ll go out with you guys tomorrow!”

He wasn’t convinced but there was no point in arguing with you, so he eventually agreed and left you alone. He and Seb went out an hour later and you were left to your own devices, so you got into your pyjamas (which consisted of a large t-shirt and not much else), made yourself some food and slinked back to your room as thoughts of Seb kept plaguing your mind.

It’s not like you’d never realised Seb was attractive, of course you’d noticed, look at the man for god’s sake. But seeing him all flushed and naked and wet had awoken something in you. Something very dangerous, given the nature of your relationship.

Your thoughts soon drifted to rather lewd areas, as you pictured Seb in multiple situations. Running his hands up and down your naked body in the shower. Sinking to his knees at your feet as he devoured you. Fucking you into the mattress with a hand over your mouth to not alert your brother with your moans. Fucking you in his driver’s room next time you went to a race. Making you come over and over while whispering dirty things in your ear.

Your fantasies were interrupted by the sound of the front door again. You glanced at the clock, it read 3:26.  It seems time flies when you’re thirsting over your brother’s best friend, but it was still oddly early for them to be coming home.

You heard footsteps shuffling along the corridor and they stopped right in front of your door, the owner of the feet seemingly listening for any noise coming from your room.

“Jense?” you called out.

“No” Seb’s voice answered, “It’s me, can I come in?”

“Yeah” you sighed, you couldn’t avoid him forever.

He poked his head in, smiling softly at you before padding over to the bed as you sat on the edge next to him, consciously crossing your legs to avoid another incident, given your lack of underwear.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

“Not really, although I’ll admit I didn’t see the time pass at all… What about you guys? This is rather early for you two, isn’t it?”

He chuckled and looked deep into your eyes. “I’m here on my own, actually”.

For some reason that made a shiver go down your spine. “Jenson found a companion to go home with, and I didn’t feel like partying alone.”

“Aaah” you sighed comically “slagclaren strikes again”

He laughed softly. “Yeah…”

You looked at each other for a while before the tension became unbearable and you looked away, blushing.

“So about earlier-” he started but you stood up suddenly and interrupted him.

“Please Seb, I really don’t want to talk about it, it was super embarrassing, and I don’t want to make things uncomfortable for you, I’m so sorry”

He cocked his head to the side, frowning at you. “Why would I be uncomfortable? It was an accident, and I’m not exactly embarrassed by my body so… no harm done” he smiled sweetly when your gaze snapped to him.

You laughed in disbelief “Well I should hope you’re not embarrassed by your body! It’s so -”

The image of his wet, muscular body flashed through your mind, along with all the other images you’d conjured up since “uhhhmm…” your brain took a second to reboot.

He smirked “Go on, what is it?”

You blushed profusely and stuttered “Uh, well, it’s uhmm… It’s good”  and then you went and gave him a fucking thumbs up.

Jesus, you couldn’t be more lame if you tried.

He raised his eyebrows and smirked even wider “It’s good??”

 “You know what I mean!” you whined defensively, face becoming redder by the second “You’re a high-performance athlete! You’re all muscly and… and hot, you know? Like my brother!”

What. The. Fuck.

Your eyes widened in shock “I’m sorry I don’t know why I said that! I panicked! I don’t think my brother’s hot! I mean objectively he is, I guess! But I just-”

Seb was laughing, and he stood up to pull you into a hug.

“Hey, it’s okay I was just teasing you.” he whispered into your ear. “The look on your face when you opened the door and saw me in the bath told me everything I needed to know about what you think of my body…”

Your breath hitched. “Wh- what?”

“You couldn’t take your eyes off of me” he leaned back to look at you “And I think you know what I was doing when you came in…”

He spoke so softly you could barely hear him through the pounding of your heart, and he slowly leaned in and whispered, “Do you know what I was thinking about while I touched myself in your bathroom?”

You whimpered and closed your eyes, the smell of his cologne was overwhelming your senses, and you were on the brink of doing something incredibly stupid. You shook your head. “No, I don’t…”

He chuckled “No?” his hands slid down to wrap around your waist “Let me show you then”

The feeling of his lips on yours didn’t exactly come as a shock, but it was electrifying, and you deepened the kiss immediately, despite the alarm bells ringing in your mind. Your hands went up to grip his hair and he groaned, his hips bucking into yours as he slotted a thigh between your legs for you to grind on.

His hands slid further down and gripped your ass and you gasped, throwing your head back, and he took the opportunity to start kissing down your neck.

"We shouldn't be doing this" you panted, but it sounded weak and shaky even to you.

"Your brother doesn't have to know" he responded, lowering himself down to the ground. He patted the bed and winked at you. “Sit on the edge for me, princess”

You hesitated, and he suddenly looked worried. “I don’t want to force you into anything. If you want, we can just forget everything and go back to being friends”

The thought of that made your heart sink into your stomach.

“It’s just… my brother’s going to kill us if he finds out” you chewed on your bottom lip.

“I won’t tell him if you don’t” he flashed his signature grin, and when yougave him a shy smile in return, he tapped the bed again.

“Now are you going to sit down like a good girl or do I have to make you sit?”

You were almost a blur with how fast you moved.

Once you were settled, Seb spread your legs and glanced down, finally noticing that you were bare before him. He gasped and lightly bit your knee to stop himself from jumping on you immediately.

“Baby, you’re going to be the death of me” he said, nosing up your thigh and you giggled at his reaction, and the feel of his stubble on your sensitive skin.

“Naughty girl, not wearing any panties with your brother’s best friend in your room. One could think you had an ulterior motive…”

He hiked up your legs over his shoulders and pulled your hips almost over the edge, forcing you to lay down and cling to the bed as he licked a stripe up your already wet pussy. He savoured the taste for a second, muttering a curse in German, before diving in completely, lips and tongue working in tandem to drive you crazy.

When his fingers joined the party, it took you no time at all to fall over the precipice, lips chanting his name as your fingers gripped the sheets for dear life.

But he didn’t stop there, he was like a man starved and you writhed in pleasure as he just kept going and you got close to edge again in record time.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me and give me another one?” He mumbled into your pussy as his fingers continued their assault. But you were so close you couldn’t speak, which displeased him greatly, so he pulled away, your orgasm slowly fading as you whined.

“Words, princess, I need words”

But you were incapable of words, so he slapped you. Right on your abused cunt as you cried out. The shock of it turned you on so much you couldn’t think straight.

He waited, but your lack of response warranted another slap, this time slightly higher up on your clit and you squeaked.

“I’ll ask again. Are you going to be a good girl for me and come on my fingers when I say so?”

He’d barely finished his sentence before you wailed “Yes Seb! Anything for you, fuck- please!”

He chuckled “So desperate for it” he slid three fingers in easily and started a brutal pace “Fuck, you’re so much wetter, you like me abusing your pretty pussy, hmm? Making it all puffy and red when you disobey me?”

“Yes Seb, fuck I’m so close!”

“Good girl, go on then, come for me princess”

And you did, so hard that you almost blacked out.

You’d barely recovered before you found yourself being dragged up the bed, legs hooked around his waist, his arms wrapped around you tight as he pounded into you desperately, panting and groaning into your neck.

“You feel so good, so tight around me, fuck- I’ve wanted to do this for so long, schatz…”

You gasped and he deepened his thrusts, hitting all the perfect spots inside you.

“I never want to leave this pussy, so fucking good for me, taking me so well, princess” he reached up, grabbed a pillow and placed it under your hips to raise them up a bit. Then he grabbed your waist for leverage to deepen the angle of his thrusts even more, making you see stars.

“I’m so close, Seb… fuck, can I come please?” you gasped, and his hand moved to rub tight circles around your puffy, sensitive clit.

“Come for me baby, such a good girl, all over my cock, that’s it…” he cooed as your body arched off the bed and your nails dug into his shoulders as you came around him.

Your pussy was like a vice around his cock and his hips stuttered, he was so close.

He came after only a few more thrusts, groaning out broken sentences as his hips slammed into yours, eyes locked on to where his cock disappeared inside you.

“Going to fucking fill you up, princess… Deep inside this cunt… all mine… Squeezing so perfect around me… fucking take it, take it all, … fuck- ”

He collapsed on top of you, breathing hard as he came down from his high, face buried in your neck.

The next few minutes should have been awkward. You had just fucked your brother’s best friend. He had just come inside his best friend’s little sister.  But, weirdly, it all felt stupidly natural.

“You want to take a shower with me?” You asked, standing up on shaky legs as you felt his come drip down your inner thighs “Or would you prefer a bath?” You smirked at him and waddled into the bathroom.

“Shower please, I don’t like baths.” he replied.

You hummed as it took you a few seconds for your brain to catch up with that statement.

But then it hit you like a bucket of freezing water.

“ You. What?!!”

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

I KNOW THERE'S SOMETHING RIGHT IN BETWEEN US!

I'M MOVING CLOSER BABY, WHY DON'T YOU SEEM TO CARE?

synopsis// “you’re going on a date?” “well yeah..it’s not like we’re exclusive or anything right?” “yeah..yes ofc not” “yeah” (prompt from @jasminesfury)

➚ pairing// choso x gn!reader ➚ word count// 3.2k

contents// suggestive—friends with benefits but nothing explicit/no actual smut, no curses!au, unknown mutual pining, both of u r just idiots tbh

notes// MY MAN MY MAN MY MANNNNN i need to get him pregnant soooo bad. on that note here's a low quality one shot from a low quality man. anyway! besides the prompt this was inspired by better by clairo (shivers)

Choso plops down next to you with a sigh, bringing the sheets up to cover his chest, and instead of cuddling up next to him like you normally do, you sit up and look around the room for your clothes. Once spotted, you snatch the sheets away from Choso and cover yourself with them, leaving him exposed instead.

“Y/n cmon,” he whines as the cold air leaves goosebumps across his bare body.

You hum, ignoring him as you slip your clothes back on, which quickly catches his attention.

“What are you doing?” He asks as he sits up and stares at you with half-lidded eyes; you’d almost consider them fuck-me eyes if you hadn’t already just done that.

"I'm getting dressed, Choso. What does it look like?"

“You’re not staying?”

"No, sorry, I know I usually spend the night after we..." You clear your throat awkwardly as you put on the last of your clothes. “...After we check in the benefits to our friendship, but I have plans tomorrow.”

A lazy smirk plays on his face. “You know you can just say after we fuck, right?”

"I'd rather not—I don't have a dirty mouth like you.”

“…are you sure about that cause you were just-“

“Do not finish that sentence if you ever want to see me naked again, Choso.”

“Got it,” he says, nodding curtly. “So what plans do you have tomorrow that are oh so important to be taking you from me?”

“Oh.” You look away, scratching your cheek awkwardly. "Um, I'm going on a date.”

Whatever small smirk Choso had been previously sporting falls—falls isn't even the correct word. It vanishes in thin air, one second there and gone the next, as quick and fleeting as the clap of a butterfly’s wings. “…you're going on a date?”

"Yeah, I mean..." Your head dips down, your hands now awkwardly fumbling with themselves as you look up at him through your lashes and mutter, "It's not like we’re exclusive or anything, right?”

"Yeah," he nods hesitantly, like he's not even really sure he should be nodding at all. "Yeah, of course not.”

“Yeah… Well…” You quickly clear his throat and approach him, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. "Bye, Choso, I'm gonna get going! talk to you later?”

“Talk to you later, Y/n,” is all he says before you’re rushing out of his house.

The slam of his front door has him gasping, belatedly realizing he had started holding his breath sometime earlier to begin with. Choso feels like he might just vomit now that he's all too aware of everything that just happened and everything that’s currently happening within him. He practically jumps out of bed, stumbling a bit as he pulls on his boxers on his path toward the bathroom.

He comes to a halt in front of his sink, immediately turning it on and splashing his face with water, as if that would actually do something to stop the way his heart is beating at light speed. Choso stands there, borderline waterboarding himself, for god knows how long, and when it doesn’t feel like his legs are about to give out from underneath him like he’s a baby deer standing for the first time, he turns off the faucet and groans.

He should’ve stopped you.

He should’ve told you that he did, in fact, actually want to be exclusive. And if he couldn’t have done that, then at the very least he should’ve tried to get you in bed again—he should’ve done literally anything just to keep you in his grasp and not in the paws of whatever filthy person you’re off to have a date with tomorrow.

but he knows he was playing a losing game all along anyway. It was only a matter of time before you got tired of this and called it off—yet Choso can admit he wished he had just a little bit more time with you before you went off and found something you didn’t know he was more than willing to give you. Choso has loved you from the moment he laid his eyes on you, and never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d have you in any way—but one day, to his amazement, you suggested this arrangement, and Choso was not about to say no.

He was not about to deny himself the only way he might ever be able to have you.

And now it’s seeming like he’ll never be able to have you in anyway ever again, and there’s nothing he can do about it—nothing he can do to make you feel the same way. But at least this was a nice way to end things, with one last hoorah. Choso can at least be happy at the fact that you gave him one last chance to adore you.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Your elbow is on the table with your cheek resting against your fist as you stare at the person in front of you who's talking about something you can't hear. not because it’s loud. No, your date made certain that it wouldn't be by bringing you to a secluded booth in the corner of a romantically lit restaurant, so that's not the problem.

The problem is you.

You didn’t even want to come on this date in the first place; you didn’t think you were actually going to have to end up showing up. What you thought would happen was last night when you told Choso he’d get jealous or do something, anything, to show you that he’s just as head over heels for you as you are for him, and then you'd cancel this date.

But no.

All you got was confirmation that you two truly are just friends with benefits—nothing more, nothing less. And really, it shouldn’t hurt this badly. It shouldn’t feel like someone’s just ripped your heart out and served it on a silver platter for you to watch as it bleeds out. yet it does. And even still, you can't help but be here thinking about Choso. You’ll probably always be stuck thinking about him. You've thought about him so much that you're convinced he's the only thing on your mind. A head filled with nothing but Choso; it's been that way since before you two had what you have going on, and you're sure it'll stay that way long after.

“You know you could at least pretend to pay attention, right?"

They roll their eyes when you do nothing but stare at them in stunned silence. "If you don’t want to be here so bad, why did you even come?”

"I-uh-" you swallow harshly. "I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Who are they?”

You stare at them blankly. Is it really that obvious? If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you have "I'm in love with Choso!” written smack dab on your forehead.

“You look miserable, and I'd like to think I'm not at full fault for that.” They tilt their head slightly to the side, unamused. "So, who are they?”

“You’re not,” you say, an apologetic smile being the only thing you have to offer them. “You didn’t do anything, really. I just.” You stand up abruptly and quickly exit the booth. "I should go.”

“Yeah,” they agree. “That’s probably best.”

"I'm really sorry again-"

They interrupt your sentence with an impudent wave of their hand, and you frown. But obviously, since this date was doomed from the moment you arrived, you ignore it, pushing their bitterness (though you can’t fully blame them) out of your mind and walking away. As you rush out of the restaurant, you immediately pull out your phone and call Choso. You’re not sure what you would even say; all you know is that you need to hear his voice. Who knows, maybe hearing his voice after that cluster fuck of a “date” will be the very push off the cliff you need to confess. The phone seems to ring for an eternity.

"Cmon, pick up,” you mumble to no one other than yourself and the ghost of the wind.

The line falls, as does your face. Okay. Choso always answers you. So why not now? You shake your head and call him again; maybe he was just in the bathroom or something. This time, the phone only rings once or twice before dropping, and that's when it hits you: he’s ignoring you on purpose. You stop in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at your phone blankly.

What the fuck?

Choso ignoring you?

That's unheard of; Choso would never dare ignore you, yet he is. You rack your brain, searching every nook and cranny for an answer, trying to recall if maybe you did something wrong. You two were fine last night after you left—at least, you think? You can't totally remember if you’re being honest. You’re brain checked out the minute Choso gave you confirmation that he doesn't feel the same about you. You groan to yourself. You have to fix this. First, you just have to figure out what exactly you need to fix, and if you don't have that information, you have a strong suspicion about who might.

☆⋆。𖦹°‧★⋆。𖦹°‧☆⋆。𖦹°‧★⋆。𖦹°‧☆⋆。𖦹°‧★⋆。𖦹°‧☆

The pounding of your fists on the door falls in tune with the pounding of your heart. You're about to start knocking again when you finally hear the faint grumble of someone from beyond it.

“What the fuck do you-“ He comes to a halt when the door swings open enough to reveal you. "Oh, it's just you.”

You roll your eyes. “Great to see you too, Sukuna!”

He looks you up and down, unamused. “What do you want?”

“Are you gonna invite me in?”

Sukuna looks over his shoulder at something—or rather, someone—before looking back at you. “'m busy.”

“Like the kind of busy me and Choso got going on or...”

"Ew, what the fuck?" He reluctantly nods, though his grimace is still evident. "I mean, yeah, but gross.”

"Okay, fine, whatever, I'll make this quick. Have you talked to him?”

“Choso?”

You nod.

“Uh yeah, I talk to his dumbass all the time.”

You sigh. "I mean recently, like last night or today?…”

Sukuna quickly shrugs before leaning against his door frame, tilting his head to the side as he asks, “Why?”

“I’m like…” You look away and mumble disappointedly, “...pretty sure he’s ignoring me.”

“Bro what?” Sukuna looks at you like you’ve grown two heads. “Choso ignoring you?” He snickers. “You sound fucking crazy.”

"Dude, I'm serious!” You snap, returning your gaze to him. “Watch, call him.”

Sukuna, unmoving, quirks an eyebrow up at you skeptically.

“Just do it, Sukuna.”

“Fine.” He lazily pushes himself up right and pulls out his phone. He dials Choso, and within seconds, Choso answers. "Yo, uh, I just wanted to see if you were alive." Sukuna shakes his head at his own horrible improv skills. "And I can tell you are, so I'm gonna hang up now. Ok. Bye.” Sukuna pockets his phone and stares at you blankly. "Ok, now what?"

Your jaw is dropped, and Sukuna is tempted to reach out and shut it for you. “He fucking answered you?!”

“Is he not answering you?”

“No! Why do you think I'm here telling you he’s ignoring me?” You quickly pull out your phone and call Choso. “Watch.” 

The two of you watch how the line almost immediately goes dead, and Sukuna holds a fist to his mouth to stifle his laughter (though it doesn't do much). "Bro, what did you do?”

"I didn't do anything!” You trail off unsure, "I mean, I don't think I did anything?”

“When's the last time you saw him?”

“Last night.”

“Ew,” he says, a grimace on his face as he shakes his head. "Okay, uh, what was it like before you left?”

“Fine?” You pause for a moment. "I mean, usually I stay the night, but I had to leave because I had a date today.”

“You what.”

"I had a date today."

Sukuna stares at you with narrowed eyes, hesitant. “Did you tell Choso that?”

“Um... Yeah?”

"Y/n, are you a fucking idiot?” He asks earnestly, like he genuinely wonders if you’re actually this stupid and is slightly concerned for your wellbeing.

You stare at him blankly.

Truly not a thought behind your eyes, he thinks.

“Huh?”

“Oh my god.” He begins to explain slowly, enuanciating each and every syllable as if talking to a child. “You tell Choso you’re going on a date, and then suddenly he’s ignoring you, and you have no idea why?”

“Thanks for the recap, Sukuna." You roll your eyes and cross your arms defensively. "What's your fucking point?”

“My point?” Sukuna shuts his eyes closed and rubs his temples, already feeling a headache coming on. “You know he's in love with you, right?”

"That's not funny, Sukuna,” you say, your jaw clenched tight.

Sukuna’s hands fall to his sides, and he leans back against the door frame, rolling his eyes before glaring at you, his head tilted tauntingly to the side. "No, it's not, especially when you're such a fucking idiot.”

“Stop fucking around, Sukuna.”

Sukuna stands straight up again, only to lean forward, his face inches away from yours as he studies it. "Do you seriously think I'm lying?”

“Obviously you are!” You exclaim as you push him back into place.

"Y/n, that dumbass is head over heels for you.”

“You don't know that!”

“Anyone with eyes knows that!” he sighs. “And besides, he’s literally told you he loved you once.”

"Huh?" You blink a few times, trying to remember if he had. "No, he hasn't?"

"Yes, he has.”

"I'm pretty sure I'd remember that, Sukuna.”

"Unless you were—“ Sukuna grimaces as he finishes his sentence,”—too fucked out to remember or hear him.”

Your mouth falls in shock. “He said it during sex?!”

"Man, I don't fucking know,” Sukuna says, his grimace growing deeper. "I didn't ask for the details; I hung up on him. What the fuck?”

“Oh my god, I'm an idiot,” you mumble to yourself.

Sukuna knows you weren’t talking to him, but he still answers anyway. “I know.”

“Fuck.” You take a deep breath and seem to come to a conclusion almost immediately. "Okay, this was very insightful. Thank you. I'm gonna go to his house now.”

"Dude, don't go unless you like him back.” He frowns slightly, and you and him both aren’t sure if it’s actually for Choso or just for the sake of acting nice. “Just give him space.”

“Of course I like him back!” you stress. "I only went on that date to make him jealous in the first place."

In an instant, Sukunas' face falls flat. "I'm not even going to say anything. Fuck you, get off my porch.”

and the next thing you know, he’s slamming his door in your face.

☆⋆。𖦹°‧★⋆。𖦹°‧☆⋆。𖦹°‧★⋆。𖦹°‧☆⋆。𖦹°‧★⋆。𖦹°‧☆

It doesn’t take long until you’re at Choso’s front door. In all honesty, you ran here. It’s not like Choso’s is very far from Sukuna’s in the first place, but you’d rather not waste any more time; you’ve wasted enough as it is. You knock softly at first, but when that doesn't seem to work, you full-send it and start banging on his door.

“Choso, open the fucking door and come talk to me!”

He doesn’t.

but you do hear him grumble from inside, “Go away, Y/n.”

“Stop acting like a child!”

That seems to do the trick, considering he flings the door open so fast it gives you whiplash. He stands in the doorway, shirtless, looking as disheveled as ever. You can’t help but stare at the way he makes looking messy like art. like every detail, from his frizzy, sticking-up hair down to the bags under his eyes, is purposeful. You don’t know how long you stand there just ogling at him, but you know it’s long enough for him to notice and call you out on it.

"Did you come here just to eye-fuck me or..."

"Right, uhm," you say, clearing your throat. “You were ignoring me.”

“Dunno what you're talking about," he shrugs curtly, looking away.

“Choso.”

“What?” he asks, turning his attention back to you with narrowed eyes, like he’s challenging you.

You narrow your eyes right back, your voice even as you speak, “You answered Sukuna but ignored me."

“Don't recall.”

You genuinely have no idea how he can stand here and lie straight to your face while looking you dead in the eyes. Does the man have no shame? (The answer is no, but you already knew that.)

“Are you serious?” You gawk before shaking your head; this is not worth it. “You know what? I'm not here to argue with you.”

This catches his attention, and as he stands up straighter, you can make out the slightest of glints in his eyes. “Then what are you here to do?”

"I love you.” After a moment, you add, “Too.”

Choso stands there, star-struck, his eyes as wide as saucers, and although you can't hear him breathing over the hammering of your own heart, you can see just how his chest heaves. You shift uneasily in place, his gaze piercing, and under different circumstances, you usually adore having his eyes on you with the way they make you feel like you're the only thing in his universe, but right now? Right now, it only serves to make you alarmingly aware of how you just laid out your heart to him, and he hasn't said a word.

"Choso, did you hear me?”

"Am I asleep?”

Despite your better judgment and jelly-like legs, you take a step forward and wrap your arms around his neck, answering with a small, breathy laugh. "No, Choso, you're not.”

You watch mesmerized at how his adam's apple bobs as he swallows harshly and mutters, "I'm not..."

“Nope.”

“And you love me?”

“Always have.” You look down and notice how languid Choso is in your hold, his hands at his sides rather than on you, and that just won't do. Choso does not keep his hands to himself, especially not around you. You make quick work of untangling your arms from his neck and grabbing his hands, placing them on your hips before returning your arms to their original state as you speak lowly, "I went on that date to make you jealous. I thought it didn't work."

Bringing up the date was apparently all it took to break Choso out of his trance; all of a sudden, his hands are exploring up from your hips to your waist, softly squeezing and pulling at the flesh as if making sure you’re really there—that he really isn’t asleep and having the same dream that he’s had for forever now.

“It worked a little too well, Y/n,” he says, chuckling.

"Yeah, I guess it did, didn't it?"

"Wait, how do you even know that I love you?” His face scrunches up in confusion. “I didn't-“

You cut him off with an awkward laugh. “Sukuna gave you up and called me an idiot for not seeing it before…”

"Well..." he half-shrugs innocently. “He’s kinda right.”

You roll your eyes. "Haha, you're so funny.” You clear your throat before subtly glancing to the side and over your shoulder, mumbling,

"Can you let me in now, though? Cause I'm pretty sure there's people staring at us…” 

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[devildom-moss]

Flowers for Them (Satan)

Continuation of a request where MC returns the favor for the characters giving them roses. Kind of a sequel series for the Roses for You series (links here)

Satan x gn!MC

(the smallest drop of angst)

Word Count: +1,100

Blue anemone

Satan flipped through the book he had tried to secretly purchase the last time you went to a used bookstore together. It was a tragic romance novel about a human and demon – and not just any demon, but a high ranking, intelligent demon man. His reason for wanting to hide his selection was clear; he would be mortified if you found out that he was reading a story so similar to his situation with you. It was as close as he could bring himself to reading self-insert fanfic of you.

Although, if he was willing to search the depths of the internet, Satan would have found ship fiction about the two of you, written under pseudonyms by fans. Some demon would see a post on Devilgram including you and Satan or see you two walking around and inevitably decide your relationship was worthy of a 13-chapter, hurt/comfort romance, with 2 chapters of rough and dirty smut that would make even an incubus blush. That fic would get posted somewhere on AD3 (Archive de Devildom Demons) or Devilfiction.net or Hellpad – or if they’re truly sad, on Burnr. But Satan was blissfully unaware, so he curled up in his chair with his shameful indulgence.

Unfortunately for Satan, you had seen him sneak the book into the bottom of the pile before checking out. Curious, you did a bit of investigating using the title on the spine and quickly realized why Satan was so keen on hiding it from you. It was cute, in a way, and you wanted to reward that cuteness.

When Satan first opened the book, he felt a faint trace of magic. Seeing as the book was used, that didn’t seem too odd. Besides, whatever magic tainted this book seemed benign, so he ignored it and kept reading.

Satan gripped the book tightly in his hands. The chapter had ended with the human character finding the demon among ruins – remains of a city he had destroyed on a rampage after the duke residing there had suddenly declared war on humans. Would the human reject his violence or embrace him in his monstrous, destructive glory? Satan could feel the tension building up, and he was so excited that he couldn’t sense the magic in the book getting stronger as he turned to the next page.

As soon as he did, a blue anemone sprouted from the center of the book. Satan was startled, but upon closer examination, other than being a human realm flower, nothing else seemed off with the anemone. He set it aside and continued to read the chapter.

The human took in the devastating wreckage around the demon. Homes, shops, and even infrastructure had been demolished as if by an unholy earthquake. It was a tragedy. They imagined all the lives and happiness destroyed. Satan turned the page. Another anemone popped up.

Satan set it down with the other one and kept reading. Right at the center of the town square was a fountain which was once a glistening display of water that sparkled under the starlight. Now, the duke’s head was floating in the upper tier as water that ran red sprouted up next to him and came spilling onto his face – as if to waterboard what visibly remained of his corpse with his own blood. The demon called out to the human, using their name in a meek, pitiful voice. Their eyes met, and Satan turned the page.

Another fucking anemone? Satan put it next to the others with a low growl and read on. The human approached, and the demon fell to his knees on the verge of tears, searching for any sign of affection. He found it. The human caressed his cheek and dropped down to their knees right before him with no regard for the rubble underfoot that pressed into them uncomfortably. The demon tried to explain, only to be met with warm lips against his. Hoping to see them deepen their bond, Satan flipped to the next page eagerly.

“Motherfucker!” A fourth anemone grew up from the book. It was a small inconvenience, but Satan was annoyed. Things were getting good, but he stopped reading and began to simply flip through the pages. A blue anemone continued to appear each time until Satan had enough for a bouquet of two dozen. Then, they stopped. Instead of a flower, a cat-shaped note appeared. Satan was about to throw it away when he recognized your handwriting.

All his irritation and anger began to melt. The note said, “close your eyes.” Satan obeyed.

His obedience was rewarded with the soft sensation of your lips against his. Only you had the power to change Satan’s mood with such ease. He smiled into the kiss, suddenly delighted with your little prank that had been an annoyance just a minute ago. No one had ever given him flowers before – and certainly not human world flowers. When you pulled away, Satan bit his lip to prevent himself from pouting and whining. You could have kissed me a little longer after all that, he thought. However, he had more pressing words to speak.

“Why blue anemones?” Satan stared at you expectantly.

“It can’t just be because they’re pretty?” you asked.

“It could be – if it was anyone else giving me flowers.” Satan smiled, knowing he was correct. “So, what did I do to deserve these?”

“Okay, smarty-pants, you caught me. One of the meanings of a blue anemone is intelligence. That one should speak for itself.” You paused to take his face in your hands. “They also symbolize mutual trust and loyalty, love and respect, and anticipation. They are a promise of a brighter future; in sadness, they bring a sense of calm and peace, lift spirits, protect, and guide.”

Satan’s heart ached sweetly, and he met your eyes with an abundance of affection that overflowed in gentle tears running down his cheeks. You wiped them with your thumbs and placed a soft, chaste kiss on his lips.

“Are you a blue anemone as well, then?” Satan asked, almost innocently. “Because nothing is a bigger source of peace in my life than you. You are my love, and my loyalty is to you. Only you could lift my spirits like this. Only you could protect and guide me in the ways I’ve always dreamed of. Your very existence is a promise of a brighter future – so long as it involves you. So, I’ll ask again: are you a blue anemone?”

“Hush,” you chuckled and proceeded to leave kisses all over his face until his cheeks were flushed pink and the tears had dried. “You’re cute.”

“You hush too!” Satan pulled you onto his lap and buried himself in the crook of your neck. “Don’t tease me, but don’t leave my side either.”

You played with Satan’s hair and kissed the top of his head. “You can read your tragic human-demon romance book – just remember, I have no intention of letting us be a tragedy.”

“Me either,” Satan whispered against your skin. The tears threatened to spill from his eyes again, but he was too soothed by your touch to cry anymore.

Lucifer | Mammon | Leviathan | Asmodeus | Beelzebub | Belphegor | the others

(If there's no link, that character is coming soon-ish)

[whateveriwant]

Heads or Tails

Summary: Ghost has undergone a lot of changes recently, many of which you find concerning. So you concoct a plan to try to bring the old Ghost back, the first and most crucial step: getting rid of that new mask.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Word Count: ~4.0k

Warnings: language, slight physical aggression, some uncool boundary crossing, my attempt to sound Bri'ish

A/N: Hello! So this is a new endeavor for me! I've never written for Ghost or CoD/MW before, but I've recently become obsessed with interested in the characters, and so wanted to give it a go. I was rushing a little to get this out, but I really hope you enjoy! :)

"Bet it's a fetish or somethin'."

Your neck nearly snaps as you swivel to the left, your eyes bugging at the Scot's words.

"Probably humiliation kink… Maybe breath play," Soap ponders aloud, eyes trained across the room pensively.

"Nah, mate. I reckon it's a bad trim, or some bad ink," Gaz adds from your right, making you pivot in your seat. "What'd you think? Tribal or teardrops?" He gestures to his own face, attention also drawn straight ahead.

As the two go back and forth positing ideas, your own eyes are finally steered to the figure in question. This conversation, like seemingly all the ones as of late, is centered around one topic and one topic only.

That damn mask.

While Ghost's signature masks are nothing new to the members of the 141, this one in particular has had you all scratching your heads for weeks. Much like his other balaclavas, this one is dark with a contrasting white skull, only this mask has one minor addition that none of the others have ever included: A big, bouncy puffball right on the top of his head.

When you first saw it, you honestly thought it was a joke; you were on a mission in the tundra, after all. But as you started to laugh, the sharp, deathly glare the Lieutenant gave you had you immediately snapping your mouth shut, averting your eyes out of respect.

Where he got that mask, you hadn't a clue, but you figured it would be just a one time thing anyway. However, that assumption turned out to be entirely wrong as Ghost continued to wear it again and again, no matter the mission conditions. Not only that, but he's also been exclusively wearing it around the base too; that is, whenever you do see him around the base. 

It's been weeks now and you haven't spotted him without that ridiculous mask once. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he wears it 24/7. But that can't actually be the case unless he likes waterboarding himself with every shower, which if he does, then good for him, you guess.

Though you have a lot of questions you'd like to ask the Lieutenant, the one eating at you the most is why. Why the switch up? Why the obsession with this specific mask? Why all these little changes you've noticed about him over the past several weeks?

Because that's the thing. Beyond the pom pom, there's something about Ghost that's been… different. Better, even, in some regards, but there's also been a massive decline in others. 

Out in the field, he's shown significant improvement. His aim has been sharper, his knife skills cleaner, hell, even his walk has been more sure-footed. While Lieutenant Riley has always been the cream of the military crop, for the last several weeks, he's been on another level.

Off the field, however, is a different story entirely. Instead of the man you thought you knew, it's like you hardly recognize Ghost anymore. He's been much more curt, closed off, and dare you say, a downright cunt to you all, and that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of all the other discrepancies you've noticed with his character. 

Like why has he been avoiding the team much more than he ever used to, or why does he immediately shut down any attempts at getting close with him? He's never been an incredibly open or approachable man per se, but it's like he's gone full blown antisocial recluse now.

The sudden switch in his behavior just didn't make sense to you, so you tried casually bringing it up to Price one day, hoping maybe he had an explanation that would help piece things together. In response, however, your Captain simply shrugged his shoulders, dubbing the mask Ghost's "good luck charm" that must've just gone to his head. 

While you didn't necessarily have a better answer yourself, Price's conclusion wasn't good enough for you to accept as the truth. Maybe a lucky rabbit's foot or good luck coin or whatever could explain away Ghost's overnight tactical improvements, but it didn't answer the why of everything else. 

Why has Ghost changed so much?

As you reflect, the sound of Gaz and Soap's continued discussion slowly brings you back to the present, making you blink out of your stupor.

"...been acting all off. Like he's… paranoid or something," you hear Gaz say regarding Ghost. "Like, the other day for instance, when we got dropped off back at base, I swear, as soon as his boots hit the ground, he was booking it like he was about to get shot." 

Well, that's certainly a relief. Not that Ghost is acting strange, but that at least you're not the only one to notice.

"I thought maybe he was just sensitive to the floodlights – those things were ruddy blinding that night – but when I tried to catch up and ask him, you'd think I was chasing him from how fast he ran," Gaz adds.

Though that's a bit unexpected on Ghost's part, you suppose it's not all that uncharacteristic anymore. He's been increasingly aloof nowadays, and while you're not totally sold on Gaz's paranoia claims, you definitely see the cause for concern.

"Y'know, I think you're on to somethin'," Soap agrees with Gaz's conclusions. "Just the other night, 'round two in the mornin', I caught him rummagin' around the kitchens like he was afraid to get caught."

"Hold on," Gaz interjects, craning his head to face the other Sergeant. "What were you doing in the kitchens at two a.m.?"

"Mind yer business, that's what," Soap huffs, waving his hand dismissively. "But anyway, even then he was still hidin' beneath that bloody mask. I cannae even remember that last time I saw him without it," he says, almost dejectedly.

You can't remember the last time you did either, though you're not as beat up about it as Soap is. The man seems to have a certain fascination with staring at his Lieutenant's bare face that you can't say you totally relate to. 

As Soap continues thinking to himself of when last he saw Ghost without his mask, he suddenly snorts, smiling as he tells you, "Y'know, I once tried to break in his room and steal that thing while he slept, but the lad has some unpickable locks on his door, I tell ya," he chuckles.

"Oi, you mental or something?" Gaz's voice pitches up. "Trying to steal his mask? You'd be lucky if he didn't string you up by your bollocks just for thinking it."

Soap scoffs, peeking over from the corner of his eye. "Oh, come on. Like you've never?"

"I'd like to keep my boys securely attached, thank you." Gaz shifts his weight at the uneasy thought, grimacing slightly.

That has Soap turning fully in his seat, making to confront Gaz head on. "So you're tellin' me you like the new mask? That you don't want to see the fucker gone?"

Gaz shakes his head, mirroring Soap as he similarly turns to face him. "I didn't say that. I'm just as tired of looking at it as you are."

At that, Soap throws his hands up, letting out an exasperated breath. "So let's do somethin' about it!" he exclaims, calling back to his attempted theft.

"Like what?" Gaz huffs. "You want me to ask nicely? 'Ghost, would you please lose the mask? There's only room for one ugly hat around here, and Price has already filled that niche. So sorry.'"

As the two Sergeants continue to bicker over the top of your head, you keep your eyes on Ghost who's still in the room. Thankfully, he appears to be completely oblivious to the animated discussion happening around you. You don't think he'd enjoy hearing how his teammates want to throw his mask in an on-fire garbage bin.

Gradually, your attention starts to drift away from the conversation at hand until you're right back at your earlier conundrum: trying to figure out Ghost's deal. 

Why has he been acting so different as of late? What could have brought on such a drastic change in his behavior? As you think, Soap and Gaz's words lightly filter through your mind, and suddenly, the answer becomes blatantly obvious. 

What's the common denominator in all of this? What seems to be the root cause of all this discourse? It all comes down to one thing and one thing alone.

That fucking puffball mask of his.

Ever since he got that new mask, there's been a never ending stream of changes with Ghost, most of which you'd argue are for the worse. You know it's silly to cast blame on such a normally inconsequential scrap of fabric, but at this moment, there's nothing else that makes sense in your mind.

Maybe the change is because his brain is being squeezed too tight or maybe he's been having a constant bout of heat stroke these last few weeks. Whatever the reason, you can see how wearing that mask has negatively affected him, and you're eager to see that rectified.

"I've got it!" you pipe up for the first time, interrupting the Sergeants who are still verbally going at it. You look between them both before once more bringing your gaze back to Ghost. "I know what to do," you say confidently.

Though the old Ghost you knew has been M.I.A. recently, you don't think he's truly gone, not permanently anyway. He's just been squirreled away for the time being, trapped in a cage of woven black thread. You just hope that, with a little luck and a lot of planning, soon…

You'll be able to set him free again.

~~~~~

You peek impatiently around the corner, seeing Gaz standing at the end of the hall. When he notices you, he shakes his head, turning back to keep watch like directed. 

Annoyed, you check your phone again. Soap said they were on their way five minutes ago. You know it's a maze of passageways between here and there, but still, they should've shown up by now. 

At its core, your plan is simple, but so many pieces have to come together for you to pull it off successfully. One screw up and it all comes toppling down, and you doubt you'll ever get a chance at a redo.

Another 30 seconds pass before you're checking on Gaz again, the man keeping a silent sentinel against the wall. The trap's been set, all you have to do is sit back and wait. But you're not sure how much longer you can handle until you go mad.

Just as you're about to text Soap for confirmation again, Gaz perks up, turning and nodding over at you. Before he can be spotted by anyone else, he slips into the room at his back, quickly closing the door shut.

Finally! It's time. Operation Unmask is a go.

You stoop to pick up one of the items at your feet, counting down from 20 as you hear a pair of heavy boots slowly approach your position. When you finally reach zero, you suck in your breath. It's now or never, baby.

Right before the figure can descend on your hiding spot, you pop out around the corner, colliding directly with the man you'd expected to find. Ghost grunts in surprise at the blunt contact, that damn pom pom on his head bouncing as he stumbles slightly.

"Oh, sorry!" you call out innocently. "Didn't see you there." It's not exactly a lie. You struggle to peer around the tower of boxes in your arms, stacked high enough that you can hardly see a thing ahead.

Ghost grunts again as he takes in the scene you've laid out, thankfully seeming to accept it at face value. "Careful," is all he says, moving to continue in the direction he was headed.

"Oh, uh, actually��?" you stop him before he can escape. "Sorry, but… Do you think you could…?" You shift the boxes deliberately in your hold, hinting at the favor you mean to ask. "If you don't mind. They're really heavy."

This plan all hinges on whether or not Ghost will take the bait. Though he's been less than charitable recently, in the past, he used to be quite helpful to you in particular. That's why you're the one who had to ask for his help. You knew that anyone else, he'd decline immediately.

But you can tell Ghost is hesitant to agree to assist you now, not only because of his recent change in character, but because he was currently preoccupied.

"Price is waitin' for m—" he starts to give the excuse Soap had fabricated to lure him out of his room.

"Please," you cut him short, pretending your situation is dire. "It'll be quick. I just need to get these to my office." That's where you pulled them from initially, filling them with whatever junk you could find to weigh them down. Soap and Gaz weren't thrilled to have to lug them all the way over here, but you had to make them heavy to be convincing, you'd told them.

As if on cue, out of the corner of your eye, you see Soap finally make his appearance at the end of the hall. He turns the corner Ghost had come from earlier, having successfully tailed the Lieutenant all the way from his room undetected. Gaz's timing is also stellar as not a second later, he carefully opens and exits the door Soap passes by.

Luckily, Ghost doesn't seem to notice the two Sergeants quietly lurking behind him – a blessing since, sometimes, you swear he has a pair of eyes in the back of his head. 

He considers you for a moment, staring at the stack in your hands, glancing at the others still by your feet. Though you can sense he's warring with himself, another light 'please' from your lips has him caving with a sigh.

As Ghost bends to grab one of the box towers, that's when Soap really makes his move. The Scot creeps forward until he's within arm's length of Ghost, hand outstretching as he reaches towards the Lieutenant's head. Just before he can close his fingers around the mask – intending to snatch and run, the fastest of you three – Ghost does something that surprises you all.

Without even looking, Ghost suddenly jerks away from Soap's grasp, ducking at an almost unnatural speed and angle. At first, it's like he doesn't even realize what's happened himself, but then he turns and sees Soap standing there, hand caught right in the cookie jar.

"What the fuck d'you think you're doing, MacTavish?" Ghost asks roughly.

Soap blinks dumbly, shocked by Ghost’s quick reaction. "S-Sir," he stutters, his brain trying to catch up with his mouth. "Just… thought… I… saw a piece of lint," he makes up the fib on the spot, then boldly reaches towards the mask again.

Once more, Ghost evades his reach, leaning far back like he's in The Matrix. He growls and slaps Soap's arm down. "You wanna keep that hand, Sergeant?" he rumbles.

In response, all Soap can do is nod his head, baffled into a state of silence. 

"Then fuck off," Ghost warns him not to try again. He then nods towards the pile at your feet. "Or better yet, make yourself useful and pick up a box." 

Still in a trance, Soap immediately complies with the Lieutenant's order. The two grab a respective stack, Ghost directing Soap to walk ahead as he no longer trusts him where he can't see him.

Fuck! This is not at all what you envisioned. This train is rapidly going off the tracks, heading straight over a cliff.

But thankfully, you have a potential backup in place, and Gaz quickly makes his way over as he sees things running amok.

"Ghost?" he captures the attention of the growingly irritated man, who stops and turns at the sound of his voice. "Uh… your shoe's untied," Gaz mumbles once he's under the intimidating gaze of Ghost, and your eyes fall shut at the lame excuse.

Christ, this is all going to shit. There's no way you're going to pull this off.

Somehow, though, Ghost chooses to check Gaz's statement, and he cranes his head down to inspect his boots. "No," is all he says, seeing his laces clearly intact. But before he can stand back up, head still down turned, Gaz takes his opportunity before it can slip away.

Gaz tries to grab for the bloated puffball wobbling in his face, but just like before, Ghost seems to have a sixth sense for it. Again, he bends out of the way, spectacularly agile, and shoots a glare at the Sergeant's gall.

"You out of your fuckin' mind? What's gotten into you lot?" Ghost accuses the three of you, turning to look at you all, becoming increasingly suspicious of what you're doing.

Shit fuck ass balls. You need to act fast. He's starting to catch on. 

Panicked, you do the first thing that pops into your head, dropping the boxes to the floor with a thunderous thump. Ghost's head snaps in your direction, eyes wide in confusion, and they only widen more as you purposefully knock the boxes out of his hands too.

"Whoops!" you exclaim and swiftly crouch down, starting to pick up all the bits and bobs that spilled out.

Gaz realizes your intent and quickly follows suit, stooping down to help you clean up the mess. It's a few seconds before Soap catches on as well, and then all three of you are on your hands and knees, crawling around like a pack of vermin.

"The fuck's the matter with you bunch?" Ghost exhales, unable to make sense of the unfolding chaos. Nevertheless, though, he begrudgingly lowers himself down, electing to assist despite his growing skepticism.

As you go about cleaning up the mess you made, you try to covertly catch the eyes of your accomplices. Without words, you ask them which one is going to make a move, who'll grab for the mask next, but both seem a little reluctant at trying their hand again.

Ugh, whatever. You'll just do it yourself then. Really, how hard can it be?

Slyly, you creep around until you have a good vantage on Ghost, his back partially turned to you. You edge closer and closer until you're nearly bumping into him, pretending to still pick up the items scattered around. Then slowly, so incredibly slowly, you raise your hand up, reaching towards the back of Ghost's mask. Just as your fingers graze the fabric, pulling it up a mere centimeter, Ghost jolts, springing to his feet with a start.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he yells.

"What's wrong with you?!" you fire back, your frustrations boiling over. You pop up to mimic his stance, throwing all stealth to the wayside as you figure the jig is up anyway. "We're just trying to help you."

"Help me?" he sneers. "Like hell. You're out to fuckin' get me."

There he goes again with the paranoia Gaz proposed. Though maybe, in this instance, he's not entirely wrong.

"You think we haven't noticed the differences with you? How much you've changed recently?" you continue. "We can see what that thing's doing to you. You'd be better off without it."

Ghost shakes his head in wild perplexity. "The hell are you on about?"

"The mask, L.T.," Soap rises to his feet. "Take it off," he implores.

"Who the fuck d'you think you are giving me orders, Sergeant?"

"It's just a mask, sir, and we've all seen you without one before," Gaz joins the showdown. "What have you got to lose?"

Ghost looks between each of you angrily, pointing an accusatory finger at you all in turn. "You're all way out of line! Get the hell back," he urges as you three start to close in.

"Why d'ya always hide from us now? I thought we were friends, L.T." Soap reaches forward, his hand immediately swatted away.

"Ghost, really, the thing's a bloody eyesore. Just get rid of it." Gaz tries his luck, only to be met with the same result.

Again and again, you all try dislodging the mask, descending on Ghost like a pack of rabid animals. With each swipe and stretch, he expertly dodges your attacks, bending and batting you away like pests.

"Quit fuckin'—!"

"Just let me—!"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud!"

The scene is total, unbridled chaos – voices raised, arms entangled, rubbish littered all over the ground. You three push forward on Ghost until he's backed into the wall, trapped with no way out. He fights and fights, the pom pom jostling around perilously, until finally, bitterly, he's overcome.

Soap gets his fingers hooked under an edge of the mask, and he yanks, pulling it all the way off. For the first time in weeks, Ghost's face is revealed to you all, and you'd be ecstatic if not for one detail that has you freezing.

Is that a…?

No, it can't be. You must be imagining things.

Actually, that looks kind of real. Holy shit, that's definitely real!

Oh my God! Is that a—?

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT?!"

You, Gaz, and Soap all jump back in horror at the sight before you: a plump, little, white rat nestled atop Ghost's head. The rodent seems just as shocked to see you as you are it, and it lets out a small squeak as you lock with its beady eyes, tiny fingers clinging to Ghost's hair.

"Aaaahhh!" Soap unleashes a girlish shriek, dropping the mask as he rears back.

"What the fuck, Ghost? No really, what the fuck?!" Gaz asks dumbfounded, hand coming up to cover his mouth.

Before anyone has a chance to fully process what they're seeing, the rat tugs on Ghost's hair, moving him to scoop up his mask from the floor. He's guided to shove the fabric back on his head, perhaps a little more roughly than intended, because you hear a pathetic squeak ring out as he does.

He points his index finger at you in a threatening manner, the holes over his eyes slightly askew. "Not a word," he grumbles, spinning on his heel. "Not one fuckin' word!" 

And just like that, he takes off down the hall, a fat, pink tail sticking out from under the back of his mask. It takes a moment before you even realize your mouth is still wide open, and you close your jaw with an audible thud. 

Vaguely, you hear Soap muttering behind you, near tears as he cowers against the wall. "Steamin' Jesus, I think I touched it! Did— Did it bite me? Am I bleedin'? I think I'm bleedin'!" he blubbers hysterically.

"Nah, you're alright, mate! You're alright!" Gaz tries to comfort him, unsuccessful as he’s also rattled.

As the two huddle together in the corner, you're left staring after Ghost's rapidly fleeing figure, trying to pick up the pieces of your newly fractured reality. 

That… was… 

Honestly, you're not sure what the hell that was.

A rat? That rides on Ghost's head? Controlling his every move and muscle? You guess that explains a few things about his behavior recently, but mostly, it just leaves you with more questions than answers.

Where the hell did he get that thing? How the fuck does it work? Why did he even think to test it out in the first place?

Actually, on second thought, no, you don't want to know. You've seen enough for one day, or really, one lifetime. 

At the start of this, you thought you had such a great plan to unveil – one that would simply reveal the "true" Ghost again. You didn't realize that in the process of trying to set him free, you would release a whole other beast, literally. And while at your core you still believe your intentions to help were good, you realize now that, perhaps…

Some things are better off hidden.

__________

A/N: Squeak squeaker squeaky squeak! [Translation: Happy April Fools!]

It figures that my first venture in this fandom is a crack fic. I expected nothing less lmao. But anyway, I'd love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

[shygirl4991]

True Color

Summary: SMG3 was told by eggman to kill SMG4 his ex rival, deep down he knew he couldn't bring himself to harm someone he grew close to so he comes up with a plan to trick eggman. Except SMG4 wasn’t a part of the plan, the man on the floor crying not only over his dead meme but at the fact his friend and crush was about to kill him. Will SMG3 be able to live through his fight with Eggman and finally admit his true feelings, he better cause there's no way a great villain like him will lose!

Tags: Fluff and Angst, Attempted murder, love confessions, first kiss, enemies to friends to lovers

SMG3 chuckles to himself dealing with Depresso was nothing, who knew this man was so weak to rats. As he walks outside his old friend Eggman follows, he is sure to be bowing down to the proof that Three hasn't lost his touch when it comes to evil. Eggman smiles, placing a hand on his shoulder “Congrats, SMG3! There’s only one final test before you can be called a true villain again.” Three smirks, this will be easy who said you couldn't be evil and still have your hero friends by your side.

“You must kill your arch nemesis!” He shows his phone revealing footage of his Eggdog cam. How did eggman know about the camera in Four’s room? How long has he been watching the man, he made a mistake putting that camera in his room. He only did it to make sure that nothing would happen to four, now look at what he did. He felt a chill go down his back as it now hit him, Eggman wants him to kill his ex rival. The meme guardian in charge of living memes, his friend. He looks down in shock as Eggman pats his back laughing “Can't wait to see it friend!” 

Three was at his new home, sitting on his bomb chair staring at the gun in his hand. He can feel himself shaking at the thought of aiming it at SMG4, so many years of trying to kill the man and he did it all without any emotion besides anger. Things have changed so much, he remembers when he was about to die when he dropped the character he played as for so many years to finally tell SMG4 that they were friends. The day they did the heist to get his notebook back, how relaxed the two were drinking coffee when he was hit with a drawing idea and doodled the two together with coffee. Then the memory of the day everything changed for him, when him and Four held hands learning about their power and about zero. 

He points the gun at the picture of SMG4 shaking and fires, the moment he pulls the trigger he focuses on his old anger bringing his old character out.  “Finally I have a reason to kill that bozo!” He focuses on the pain he felt on Christmas when SMG4 brought up old memories. He screams as he shoots down the photo of SMG4 letting out all the anger on it, he can do this he can kill that idiot. Eggdog jumps surprised at what his father did during his private bath time, barking at his meme parent annoyed as he watches the man open a chest. “Ooooo i wonder how i should kill him! Dismemberment?” he then takes out gamer bath water out of the chest “Maybe waterboarding?” 

Seeing his father bringing out his old persona makes him start barking furiously at him, SMG3 freezes hearing his son's words before glaring at him “What do you mean? I don't care about SMG4, he sucks!” his mind yelled at him calling him a liar as he crossed his arms “I’ve had no character development with him.” He can't let it fall if he loses character then those feelings come back, he won't be able to impress his old friends. Eggdog had it with his father as he yelled back at him reminding him of all the nights he would gush about SMG4 to him, how he has become happier since the two became friends. It was becoming overwhelming for him as he covered his ears “La la la i can't hear you!

As he leaves his home he stares at the castle, he feels his hand shaking again “Damn it..Eggdog is right what am i doing, why am i trying to impress people from my past?” He remembers how insane SMG4 went trying to make the perfect video to please all his viewers. Three clenches his fist “Right…RIGHT! I can't impress everyone. The person I should be impressing is myself, and I find myself impressive enough!”

He needed a plan, so he walked up to the castle with gun in hand as Eggman walked up next to him “Are you ready?”  Three smirks “Oh yeah, this is gonna be easy!” He was always a fast thinker he knew the moment he stepped into that castle Eggman was done for.  SMG4 was humming happily as he finally learned how to hand craft memes thanks to the help of Three. SMG3 opens the door to the kitchen looking around to figure out a way out of this mess, SMG4 turns excitedly “Oh hey three!” he twitches at the nickname. He wasn't sure when the man shortened his name but everytime he hears it his heart flutters.

“I was just inventing a new meme. I call him, tomato soop and his catchphrase is gonna be BLERHG.” SMG3 stares at the meme as Four was showing it off, the idiot has so much trust in him he wouldn’t see his death coming. His stomach twisted at the thought, then he blinked at the meme. A tomato that when squish color could be mistaken for blood, SMG4 finishes explaining the meme smirking at him hoping his new meme was impressing his crush “Pretty memey right?” 

Three walks forward, his eyes dark as he goes over his plan in his head, on one hand a voice was telling him to do it. SMG4 hasn't done anything for him so why let him live? But that wasn't him that was the old him that he made to protect himself in a world that saw him as evil. SMG4 eyes drop down noticing the gun “Oh a glock!” he starts to get nervous “Whatcha…gonna do with that…” once SMG3 got close enough he decided what he had to do “Oh…something i should have done long ago.” He points the gun at SMG4 causing panic in the man, this couldn't be happening this isn't the SMG3 he knows why would he point a gun at him “THREE WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?” 

Three’s eyes flicker to the newly made meme, he had to do it to protect him, his gaze softened as he looked back at Four “I’m sorry… I have to do this.” SMG4 shakes unsure what was going on then the gun moved slightly to his left and fired, Four blinks and slowly turns to see Three had shot his newly made meme getting tomato juice all over the window. Eggman lets out an evil smile seeing the red splatter on the window, he walks into the castle laughing “Ho hoo good job. I guess I underestimated your evil intentions 3.  I’m glad my old evil buddy is still-” he freezes seeing a tomato with a gunshot wound “Hey what the fuck?” 

SMG3 smirks as he charges at Eggman jumping up and kicking him in the face, while he may not be as fast and flexible as his partner he still had his talents in his strength. “Sike Mother fucker!” SMG4 runs to his meme with his eyes starting to water “My tomato soup meme!” SMG3 places his hands on his hips, annoyed at his other half “DUDE! Dont ruin my epic twist! I was actually considering killing you! Like usual…” he added the last bit to make sure he wasn't showing his true emotions. 

Hearing that line made Four forget about his meme as he looked at SMG3 heartbroken “You were actually going to kill me?!” that can be true could it? He felt his tears escape knowing that he would have been dead if SMG3 didn't change his mind at the last minute, what did it mean was everything they went through all for nothing? He starts crying loudly causing SMG3 to smack him, Four was startled from the hit looking at the man who was glaring at the spot Eggman was at.

Eggman gets up “I KNEW YOU DIDN'T HAVE IT IN YOU!”

SMG3 rolls his eyes “Nah i think murder isn't very evil villainy, you people should know all villains have a code. Plus PAIN AND SUFFERING IS MORE MY STYLE!” Eggman looks down at Three who had a huge shit eating grin “Pathetic,” he now knows that SMG3 was a lost cause. But he still had some hope that something would knock common sense back to Three “All villains murder!” he takes out a rocket launcher “Allow me to demonstrate!” He points the rocket to SMG3. The man only smiles at Eggman; he spent his whole life with weapons pointed at him and eldritch gods trying to kill him, an egg-shaped villain doesn't scare him.

That was until the weapon moved targets, his eyes going wide as he watched Eggman point the rocket at SMG4. He growls at Eggman as he dashes at the man moving the rocket to not hit Four, the rocket flies out hitting the roof of the castle, an old man in a bathtub falls down confusing the pair for a moment. Seeing Eggman distracted he turns and punches the man, picking up the man on the floor he smirks ready to give the man a beating for even thinking about killing SMG4. 

“I DON'T NEED TO PROVE SHIT!” he was done with the world making him a villain, he won't let anyone change him again. Eggman, finally understanding his old friend is gone, decides to teach Three a lesson, calling his ride down squishing Three he launches them up in the air “Enjoy your last breath!”

The higher they went the more he was struggling to breath, his vision was getting blurring as he took deep breaths. An idea hits him as he turns trying to keep his breathing steady from the height “Why don't you go and steal the moon or something.” He starts to take apart the vehicle. SMG4 walks outside with his injured meme looking up at the sky confused, scared and nervous about what was going on. SMG3 looks down then back at what he was doing as he removes the last part causing the vehicle to malfunction. SMG3 takes one last deep breath, he was a meme guardian he will trust his power that falling from this height won't kill him. He winks at eggman before letting go and falling off, SMG4 drops his meme running around in a panic trying to guess where the man was going to land.

He dives, catching SMG3 quickly and lifts up the man checking if he is okay. SMG3 coughs trying to bring oxygen to his lungs “SMG4?” he turns and looks at the man's face “Yeah it's me, i don't know what the hell is going on but..i'm so glad you're okay..you are okay right?” Three coughs feeling his lungs burn, the world still looked blurry for him as Four did his best to make sure the man was comfy by laying  him on his lap.

SMG4 starts to cry again feeling so many conflicting emotions he felt he was going to just blow from all of it, he holds Three’s hand shaking slightly “Even after everything…were you really going to kill me…do you still hate me?” Hearing the pain and sadness in Fours voice broke SMG3's character, maybe for once he can let himself show to stop his idiot from crying. Weakly he reaches for SMG4 face “No you idiot, sure it was tempting since on christmas you made a shitty comment without thinking but i could never kill you…you mean too much to me.” Four’s eyes go wide as he wipes his tears, Three coughs annoyed by the pain he feels “HEY STAY WITH ME uh er maybe i have a first aid kit for this wait for me!”  He gently put Three on the floor and was going to run inside only to be stopped. 

He turned to see Three grabbing his hand “Hey..Four..thank you for being my friend.” SMG4 heart flutters finally hearing Three call him by his nickname “Hey now you're not going anywhere,” he wiggles free to sprint inside getting the first aid kit.  After taking care of Three they both sit together outside looking at the sky, Three was starting to feel better as he leaned on Four “I know today must have been a shit show for you, so in short I had old friends try to change me but you know what SMG4?” the man hums as he waters his meme helping it feel better.

Suddenly Three turned his face getting close, Four blushed unsure what was happening “I realized i don't need to prove to anyone how evil i am. I don't need to prove anything because I'm happy just the way I am.” SMG4 smiles softly at him leaning into his touch “heh well i'm happy your you to three, you had me scared you know i really thought i did something wrong or…you lied about being friends again.”

SMG3 frowns at the memory, he did a lot of bad in the past to think he was here at this moment with someone he used to want dead. Now the thought of anything happening to Four made him sick, it made him angry. It then clicked to him all those confusing feelings he had these past months, he was falling for his rival after everything they went through he grew to love the man in front of him. He would kill for this man, he would die for him. Four was giving a confused look to Three wondering why he was still caressing his face only for his eyes to go wide as Three leaned forward kissing him.

SMG4 felt as though his body was being electrocuted from the sparks he was feeling from the kiss, dropping the watering can he turns his body and wraps his arms around Three’s neck kissing him back. Eggman’s plan was to bring SMG3 back to the dark side but all he did was show Three just how amazing the light was, he won't ever let this go no one will ever lay a hand on his SMG4 as long as he lives. 

It was the next day and SMG3 smirks as he traumatizes Steve by telling him his sandwich was made of chicken, he does his evil laugh not noticing his boyfriend was rolling his eyes “I see some things never change huh?” Four pats Three’s back only to get a smirk from the other man “Hey now scrub you say this but you wouldn't have me any other way!”

Four chuckles and nods “I wouldn't want you any other way three, now uh could i get my coffee i have been waiting here for an hour.”

“Nope, just cause you're dating me doesn't mean you can skip the line now go sit and wait or i'm going to make you wait even more!”  Four signs before letting out a smirk he quickly kisses Three’s cheek making the man's face go red “WHAT THE!? THATS IT NOW YOUR NOT GETTING SHIT YOU…YOU…baka.” he lets out a soft smile before going back to work red in the face.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

decisions

prompt: forced choice

whumpee: illya kuryakin

fandom: the man from uncle

hi this one got a bit longer than intended but such is. it's pre-ship and features a bit of whump for napoleon as well. hope you like!

Napoleon wakes up and before he so much as opens his eyes he ascertains that he’s tied up, quite severely, to a chair which is bolted to the floor. His bindings are rope, scratchy and thick. At least his shoes are still on and there is no water surrounding his feet. Small victories. 

He opens his eyes and discovers that he’s not alone. 

Illya’s sitting across from him, similarly tied up. He’s sweaty from effort, but his bonds appear unaffected, and it is at this point that Napoleon realizes that they’re not going to be getting out of this easily. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, and Illya nods. 

“You?”

He nods as well. Wonders what fate holds for them, knows it can hardly be pleasant. 

The man who enters the room just then is not someone Napoleon knows. Nor Illya, from the looks of it. He smiles, quite friendly, and Napoleon is put deeply on edge. 

The man stands directly in front of him. “Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Solo,” he says smoothly, which is another bad sign. 

“Now. Let’s get straight into it. Left or right?”

“What?” This is decidedly not the sort of question he’d been expecting, and he can’t make heads or tails of it. The man’s hands are loose, so he’s hardly hiding any kind of nasty surprise, and there’s nothing in the room that makes this question make sense. 

“You heard me. Left or right?”

“In regards to what, exactly?”

The man grins again. “Just choose.”

Napoleon shrugs as much as the bindings will allow. “Left, I suppose.”

The man whistles sharply, and a door at the back of the room opens. Another man enters, looking considerably more physically imposing. So he’s got minions, Napoleon thinks. Great. 

“He wants the left,” reports the man in charge. His goon nods, slipping a length of metal pipe from out of his sleeve. Shit, Napoleon thinks, and braces himself for a hit. 

Except it never comes. The minion, as Napoleon has already begun calling him, approaches Illya, and so suddenly that Napoleon cannot so much as cry out, he swings the pipe directly into Illya’s left ankle. 

There’s an audible crunching sound, and Illya lets out a sharp breath. Napoleon just stares at him, shocked. 

“What the hell?”

“Don’t speak unless I tell you to,” says the man in charge. His voice is flippant and yet belies an enormous amount of power. 

Napoleon shuts up. 

“Now then. Let’s let the real fun begin, shall we, Mr. Solo?”

“What do you want?”

Another unnervingly placid smile. “Only to hurt you.”

“Funny way of doing that, hitting him instead of me.”

The smile widens. “Oh, trust me. You’ll hurt plenty.”

Napoleon elects to ignore him, for the time being. He focuses instead on Illya, who is breathing heavily in the way he does when he’s trying to control a rather immense amount of pain. I’m sorry, Napoleon thinks, as if Illya will hear. I didn’t know that would happen. 

“My next question, Mr. Solo, is this: waterboarding, or whipping?”

Napoleon blinks. Doesn’t answer. What the hell?

“I won’t repeat myself next time, and he’ll just end up getting both. Choose, for his sake.”

“You’re not—why not me?”

“I’m sure you’ll work it out. Now choose.”

Napoleon locks eyes with Illya, who looks back, unflinching. He blinks once, very deliberately, and Napoleon speaks before he can question it. 

“Waterboarding.”

He knows Illya’s trained for this. They both have, in their time. This does absolutely nothing now. Napoleon’s heart beats wildly in his chest and there’s a sense of rage threatening to consume him as the minion approaches Illya with a towel and a bucket. 

Watching his partner be waterboarded is one of the most painful things that Napoleon has ever experienced. The way he fights, absolutely futilely, as the towel is placed over his face, as the water is poured over. The way his body thrashes against the restraints. The way he coughs and gasps when the towel is pulled away, only to be replaced mere seconds later. 

Waterboarding is supposed to make the victim want to speak, to share every secret they’ve got, but at the moment Illya isn’t so much as making a peep, while Napoleon feels like he’d spill everything he knows if they’d only stop. 

“Stop!” he shouts, though he knows that they won’t listen.

“Shut up. Every time you speak without me telling you to, I’ll hurt him just that little bit more.”

To prove his point, the towel is replaced once more. Illya gasps for breath and it turns into a horrible coughing and spluttering as the water—the last of it, it looks like—is once again poured over his face. 

When the towel is removed this time, it’s placed neatly onto a table, and the bucket is set onto the floor. Napoleon observes these things out of the corner of his eye, the bulk of his attention focused on Illya's coughing, shivering body across from him. 

When the coughing at last subsides, the man approaches Napoleon again. He is so angry he can barely hear the words spoken to him over the pounding of blood in his head. 

“Hammer or pliers?”

“Leave him. The fuck. Alone.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’d like to see you suffer a bit more, first.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Bigger men than you have tried. Choose, or shall I remind you of the rules again?”

Brief eye contact with Illya, another single blink. Napoleon hopes to god he’s reading this right, that Illya isn’t simply doing this coincidentally, that he’s at least allowing his partner the freedom to choose. 

Choose. Right. He feels sick. Wishes, above all else, that it was him in Illya’s position, making decisions about his own fate. 

“Hammer,” he says, and his voice sounds alien to his ears. 

“I do hate to repeat a question, but needs must. Left or right?”

Another single blink. 

“Left.”

He doesn’t want to watch. But he has to. 

The hammer comes crashing down onto Illya’s left hand and there’s a sickening cracking noise and Illya makes this completely involuntary sound of pain and shock and Napoleon feels like his entire being is getting ripped in two. 

“Stomach or chest?”

The single blink again. Napoleon cannot wrench his attention away from the tear that travels its way down Illya’s cheek. 

That metal pipe makes a reappearance, slams into Illya’s stomach. There’s a loud exhale as the air is forced out of Illya’s lungs, and he gags harshly. 

God, Napoleon is going to be sick. He’s sitting here watching and making decisions and Illya is getting tortured and he can’t do fucking anything about it. 

He can feel blood trickling down his wrists from where he’s been straining against the ropes with every action taken against his partner. He focuses his attention on this infinitesimally small pain, hates himself for losing focus on Illya for even a second, but—

He wants nothing more than to break free of these restraints and kill this guy. Brutally, if necessary. 

“Fingers or toes?”

He forces his attention back to Illya. Two blinks. 

“Toes.”

The minion places his entire weight onto Illya’s left foot, the same one he’d previously smashed with the pipe, and Illya groans. Napoleon struggles harder against the ropes, without making it obvious what he’s doing. 

When the minion at last steps off of Illya’s foot, his partner is crying. It’s involuntary, a pain response, and Napoleon knows this, and god, he understands. What the man had meant earlier, when he’d asked, why not me?

This is more painful than anything else they could do to him, by far. 

“What you want?” Illya asks. It’s the first time he’s spoken and his voice is wrecked, all small and shaky and wrong. 

The minion steps back and to the left, faces Illya, and the man in charge gets up into his space. They’re not looking, and Napoleon fights frantically against the ropes in this window of opportunity. 

“Don’t speak.” There’s the sound of a slap, but Napoleon isn’t paying attention. He’s got the ropes off his wrists, and he’s untying the ones around his ankles as quickly as he can. 

“Or else what?” Illya asks, and Napoleon knows he’s seen him, knows he’s doing what he needs to do so that they can get out of this. 

There’s a dull thud and a wince. 

“I suggest you don’t try to find out.”

He’s done it. The ropes are gone. He just has to get up, while their backs are still turned—

They’re turning back around. Fuck!

There’s no time to do anything, but then Illya says, “fuck you,” which takes Napoleon completely by surprise—he can count on one hand the number of times he’s heard Illya curse in English—and it takes the other men by surprise, too, because they both turn back around just before their eyes would’ve landed on Napoleon. 

The hammer is picked back up and just as it’s being brought down onto Illya’s already destroyed hand, Napoleon flings himself out of the chair. 

He tackles the minion first, not quite stopping the hammer but at least preventing it from doing maximum damage. He wrests the implement from its wielder’s grasp, smashes it into the man’s head. He goes limp immediately.

One down. 

The other man, the mastermind of this horrific torture scheme, is standing above him with the metal pipe in his hands. He swings it down, and Napoleon just barely rolls out of the way. The pipe hits the body of the minion instead, adding insult to injury. 

Napoleon leaps to his feet. The fight is harder than he would’ve expected, given the relatively small size of his opponent and his apparent unwillingness to do any of the truly nasty work. 

Still, he gets there in the end. He sacrifices himself to a couple strong hits from the pipe, but then the hammer connects with the man’s skull and this wave of pure anger and adrenaline overtakes him. 

He loses himself for a second. And then Illya’s saying, “it’s enough, Cowboy, stop,” and he opens his eyes and finds himself straddling a body which is only vaguely recognizable as Illya’s torturer. 

He drops the hammer to the ground with a deafening clatter and then gets to his feet. His hands are covered in blood and he can taste it in his mouth. 

He’s gone, is the first thing Napoleon thinks, untying Illya with trembling hands. He can’t hurt him anymore. Illya’s safe. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says quietly, as he unties the ropes around Illya’s ankles. “God, Illya, I’m so sorry.”

“You did not hurt me,” Illya responds, wincing as Napoleon inadvertently brushes a hand against his injured ankle. “No reason to apologize.”

“He hurt you because of me.”

“No, he did this because of him. Come, we should leave.”

Napoleon wants to argue. Wants to apologize for the rest of his life, wants Illya to yell at him and tell him to go to hell, wants—

He wants to hold onto Illya forever and protect him, even though he knows Illya’s more than capable of protecting himself. He wants to be around Illya always, to threaten those that would come near him, try and harm him like they had today. 

He doesn’t know what he wants, in short, and his heart is still pounding and he feels dizzy with relief and guilt and about a million other things he can only guess at. 

Their getaway is slow-going. Illya can barely walk on his destroyed ankle, although he does his best. They limp out of the building, Napoleon with the hammer in hand lest anyone else should come crawling out of the woodwork.

But they meet no one. The path to their car is mercifully short, and Napoleon drives them back to their safehouse with his hands clenched firmly around the wheel so that they’ll stop shaking. 

“It’s okay,” Illya says, quiet and sudden, when they’re about a mile away from their destination. “I know…I know you will blame yourself about this. But you did not do anything. It is not your fault.”

Napoleon suddenly finds himself blinking back tears. Get it together, he tells himself. It’s not you who was just tortured. At least not physically. 

“I just sat there,” he all but whispers, after a beat. “They were torturing you, and I just sat there and gave them directions.”

“They made this decision. And you told them to do what I chose.”

“He said—he said he was hurting you to hurt me.”

“And?”

“That makes it my fault, Illya,” Napoleon says, and he can’t quite stop his voice from breaking.

“It is his fault,” Illya says, and there’s the familiar sureness in his voice that has heretofore been missing. “He wanted to hurt us. You did not make this decision.”

“But—”

“No. Not your fault. I do not blame you, you cannot blame you.”

Napoleon does not know how to argue against this. Even though the guilt feels like it is going to eat him alive. 

They arrive back at the safehouse, and he helps Illya through the door. There’s about a million things that they need to do. Tend to Illya’s injuries. Contact Waverly. Pack and prepare for an evac. 

Illya collapses immediately onto the couch. He’s damp with water and sweat and blood, his hand is swelling something awful, and his ankle must be faring similarly. He looks absolutely exhausted and pained, and Napoleon is about to start bustling around, gathering ice and bandages and alcohol and cotton balls, but then Illya lightly taps the space beside him. 

“Sit with me?” he asks, and Napoleon thinks he’d do absolutely anything Illya asked of him right now. 

He sits, looks at his partner. Illya is looking back at him, terribly vulnerable beneath the tiredness and hurt, and Napoleon feels himself begin to properly cry. 

He shouldn’t be crying. He’s not even hurt, besides the scrapes around his wrists and the bruises from the pipe. But there’s nothing for it and no way of stopping now that he’s started. 

“Napoleon,” Illya begins, but Napoleon cuts him off. 

“Just—I don’t want to hurt you any more, but can I—can I touch you?”

It sounds pathetic and stupid but he just wants a physical reassurance that Illya’s here, still alive despite the torture and not even upset with him, after everything. That protective feeling is back, hot in his chest. 

“Okay.”

He carefully pulls Illya towards him, gentle as he can be, attentive to any indication of discomfort. 

He doesn’t get any. Quite the opposite, actually. Illya leans into him, warm and still trembling a bit, and Napoleon wraps an arm around him and just holds on. 

thanks for reading! hope you liked <3

[raileurta]

Miguel acting like gen z part 4

*a tentacle monster is destroying a city*

Miguel: Hear me out.

Peter softly: No. Just no.

Hobie: Wait let the man explain himself.

Miles & Peter: NO!

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

Gwen: So this guy, I'm not pulling your leg, turns himself into a dragon made out of trash.

Miguel: Low-key gender envy.

Gwen: 😐

Miguel: .......

Gwen: .......

Gwen: Idk why I even expected anything different.

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

Miguel: Peter do you have a pet car?

Peter: Yes?????

Miguel: What are you supposed to do when it's 4:00am and they are vooming across your house breaking stuff?

Peter: The fuck kind of car do you have?!

*It took them 20 minutes of arguing to figure out the miscommunication*

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

*on a stakeout outside a Panera*

Miguel: Yo do you think if I slip the cashier a $20 they'll waterboard me with their murder lemonade?

Peter: Do I want to even know the context behind that?

Miguel: Nope.

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

[nicosraf]

Currently reading Angels & Man. I don't really understand why the angels grow to have more romantic/sexual love for humans. They did not necessarily have this kind of love for their fellow angels. Why? Or were they always like this, they were just repressed in Heaven? Is this part of God's plan? They seem to think it's because they have a lot in common with women but some angels like Azazel love men. But I'm not super convinced of this reasoning behind this development.

On the other hand the angels who love other angels seem to all be "demons." But they're also not necessarily "married." So is the "sin" loving other angels or it is sex outside of marriage?

Hello! I'm surprised you think their romantic/sexual love for each other isn't illustrated very much, or that its less than their crushes on humans!!!!! ABM was all about repressed angel love, and A&M begins with an angel who is punished (waterboarded) after being accused of acting romantically with another angel. So they are all very in love with each other, I assure you, but the aftermath of what happened to Lucifer has made them very very scared of expressing it. (And made them desperate for a romantic outlet).

Most angels have romantic/sexual love for each other in Heaven, though. Kokabiel and Bara, for example. They just suppress it for the aforementioned waterboarding reason. (Well Kokabiel definitely doesn't suppress it but he still acts carefully in public).

Arriving on Earth, though, there are no rules against loving humans... that the Watchers know about. And the humans flirt with them. And the humans have marriage, which God supposedly blessed with Adam and Eve. And humans having normalized romantic/sexual relationships that make them seem less scary. You know how doing drugs for the first time is scary (especially because you've been told all your life not to), but if you're in a room full of expert users that say it's okay, they'll guide you, they'll make sure you enjoy yourself — it makes you more confident and less scared to just give it a shot?

The Watchers in the story have the same questions as you: "Were the angels sinners and demons sinners because they had sex outside of marriage or because they had sex in general?" Samyaza makes the argument to himself that its the first option and marriage is the only way to be allowed to love freely: "But maybe if Azazel had married the angel before he was bedded by him, [he would not have been punished for sin,] maybe if angels married, maybe it would have been different."

Of course, he will be very very wrong — this is the Genesis Flood book after all. I hope this is helpful! :)

[aviolettrose]

So I once posted an idea about the Arkham Knight timeline, and I have another idea for it

(Triggerwarnings for mentioned SA, vomit and things you shouldn't do with it, and torture)

(It will get dark, I'm not going into detail but the stuff is still dark)

(please look out for your own safety and scroll further as soon as you get uncomfortable)

Bruce rescues Jason after locking the Joker up into Blackgate.

The Joker taunted that B's little bird doesn't scream like he used to, and Bruce just freezes and goes to Arkham where he finds Jason completely injured and unresponsive.

Bruce brings Jason to the Justice League Station (because he doesn't trust anyone else more with his son at the moment), and there he gets the needed medical attention.

Jason needs a wheelchair, he can't use his hands properly (he also has different kind of injuries), and he doesn't really talk to anyone (only to:

-Diana, because she was his childhood hero and she's the only thing that never changed in his entire life;

- Barbara, because it's his fault she is in a wheelchair she was the first person that he trusted when he moved into the manor (because she's a woman and he only trusted women back than due to trauma he got by men in Crime Alley) and it greated an special bond between them;

and

- Alfred because it's Alfred).

The younger members try to get him to talk but Jason looks at them empty as if he doesn't really believe that they're there with him and it freaks them out.

Jason can't really eat. After just eating either rotten food or living things (like mice), his gut can't keep normal food in (it's normal actually, when the gut gets only weird things or nothing, it needs time to accept normal food, that's why you have to eat light food at first like chicken, rice and so on).

Dick and his team (either the Titans or the young justice team, whoever you prefer, tbh) tried to eat with him once, but Jason threw up into the trashbin. He was only able to because Dick saw that something was wrong and caught on, on time, and held the bin.

(Jason had a panic attack afterward because he thought that they're going to force him to eat it, like they did)

Then Dinah tries a therapy session, but he just looks her deep in the eyes and says , "The last therapist I saw graped me. Are you going to grape me too?"

Dinah tries to gain his trust by saying stuff like, "I would never do something, you don't want to. If you want, I can talk to Diana and ask her if she can be with us as your support. Do you rather wanna talk to her instead of me? "

However Jason just replies,

"If I ask you to kill me and to finally release me from my pain, would you do it?"

And Dinah just excuses herself, and as she leaves the room, because tears threaten to come out of her eyes and she can't cry in front of a patient.

(She cries because Jason is a child, let's say about 14 or 15, he came to Arkham when he was 13, and he shouldn't ask people to k¡ll him)

(Jason also leaves the room after her because he knew that she was lying and wouldn't help him. No one wants to help him)

Clark once wanted to help him with his physiotherapy, and Jason just started to scream at him that he should leave, but Clark didn't leave, so Jason started to crush this man's mentality with question.

"Why won't you leave me alone?! Did you enjoy it so much to hear me suffer that you want an encore?"

"Did you like the way I threw the rotten food up? Or how they fed me with rats and cockroaches?"

"Did you enjoy it to hear me scream when he pulled out my nails?"

"Did you enjoy it to hear me getting waterboarded and electrocuted?"

"Did you enjoyed my screams when they graped me? I bet it get you off. Did you listened to me getting g@ng graped while you slept with your wife?"

And Clark Kent, Superman himself, started to cry, knelt down on his knees and started to apologize to Jason, (who sat in his wheelchair and just looked at him with so, so, so much hate) telling him that he hadn't heard him the whole time and that if he did he would have been the first person to show up to help.

But he wasn't the one who showed up and rescued him.

It was his dad

Bruce

Batman.

He doesn't know how to feel about Bruce. Yes, he rescued him, but he is also the reason he was there, but he replaced him after three months, as if he meant nothing.

Jason hates Tim.

He calls Tim pretender and taunts him every time he sees him.

"Do you really believe that you're soo much better than me?"

"It's just a question of time when he replaces you, like he did with Dickiebird and me."

"You're nothing special."

(In reality, he tries to get Tim to quit so he doesn't end up like Jason)

(And it hits Tim really hard because he admires Jason, and Tim tried to tell Jason that if he wants Robin back, he can, but Jason just scoffs because no one should be Robin. Robin died in Arkham, and that's it.)

(Here's a list of all the torture that happened, I got it sent by @caramel----comforter (<3), so please look take a look by both blogs if you've time)

[disventure-rewrite-takes]

okay, I just finished watching the finale, so here are all my thoughts plus little rewrites. also Trevor is officially transfem in my brain so she's Tatyana now, idk I don't make the rules.

Tomjake: I dunno I still don't like the ship nearly as much as I did when i first watched dvsc, I think it's got far too much screen time and precedence over the series. but it does make sense for their spinoff, and honestly, their closing arc wasn't terrible. as always, found it overly rushed, but with the emotions I guess it could make sense...idk if anything I'd just slowburn that shit. make it worth watching!!

Tom (Himself): I'm sorry but when the hell did he get WATERBOARDED? this show I swear to god...that isn't slapstick comedy ONC 😭💀 that's some serious shit why hasn't it come up at ALL?! like come on!! I would give Tom some discomfort around water, and at least a small discussion about it, ffs

Ally: idk if this is a rewrite but "you can have your yaoi moment later" is on par with "thank you I'm going there" and I love it. she needs more one liners

Gabellie: RAAAAHHH let's go lesbians!! sad Gabby got bit by the tiger but the screen time they get is everything to me, they needed more of this and I would so add that if I could

Tatyana and Emily: as always I love her, she's so silly to me and very dear to my heart. I love that she's still kind to Emily but also calls her out on her shit. kinda building on what I've talked about with Emily but I'd love to have Tatyana be her voice of reason when she's living in this revenge and rage filled part of her mind. in a rewrite I think I would definitely have Tatyana talk Emily down before the scorpions so she isn't hurt, and Tatyana quits, Emily doesn't go to prison, Emilyana is endgame and I'm happy <3

Riya: not pleased she won, I doubt most people are. but unfortunately it's probably the most satisfying end to her arc. I like that even Krystal isn't happy with her winning, and Connor finally is done with her. the only thing I'd change is that Eesha doesn't call her, so she really has no one except her fame.

Alec and Fiore: AAAAA I love them so much, Fiore caring about him, Alec finally adopting her, the bus scene and him carrying her, this is literally my lifeblood and my soul rn. I wouldn't change a damn thing, it's amazing <333

Krystal/Other Staff: I love the way her arc ends with deciding to change the way she's gonna do things, quitting DSVC and letting in new hosts. another very satisfying end for me honestly. if I had anything to nitpick, for the scene on the plane, I'd put her in the dress she's wearing in the S2 finale, just because it's pretty and I think it helps her come full circle as a character, plus it suits the trip to Cancun!

The End Photos: I also love that, love seeing Lill and Nick a bit, all the cute little end story pieces for the characters. I'd just add more honestly, I love the idea!!

y'all should see the notes I took while watching this finale honestly, I was going feral– I kept screeching and talking out loud 💀

- 🎃

love all your thoughts pumpkin anon, emilyana is real to us and we all love fiore and alec. also ur not alone in screeching and talking to yourself cuz i genuinely had to repress a scream at all those fiore & alec scenes. i love you grumpy middle aged man adopting a quirky little girl trope

[sholb]

it's about how shiv is always framed as a villain at first glance, it's about how rebrov tells george that shiv waterboards suspects and how george assumes it's shiv who hit rebrov and shiv only denies it once to no avail because maybe shiv wants to be the guy who tortures suspects because "if you work here you cannot make a fucking mistake" because maybe if he was that guy maybe he would have gotten the intel that would have saved janet's son. and it's about how shiv chases rebrov down and when rebrov says "all you had to do was shoot the right man" we see shiv fire a shot at his back and the audience is left to assume that shiv killed him—except shiv is driving rebrov to the hospital and he's giving janet an hour until he comes for her and how this mercy is not enough because "you owe us, shiv" and yet they both escape and that's shiv's fault too. it's how shiv's cousin asks him suspiciously why he came to their family's shop in the middle of the night and it's shiv's response "i'm here to save you" and how the police probably ended up arresting his cousin instead. it's how this action of altruism gets him recruited to the project that can only serve the greater good by erasing millions of people and it's this excruciating empathy that endures inside him that makes him try to save george from himself without telling anyone and it's what gets him shot and burned from everything he knows and it's what dooms him every time on a loop

[arachnxphobe]

random miguel hcs

will not admit it but he has cried to multiple animated kids movies

definitely the classics like toy story 3, the iron giant, and inside out

but he also BAWLED at the end of finding nemo because he was thinking about gabriella

he thinks that toothless from how to train your dragon is cute

no i will not elaborate on that

secretly celebrates st patrick’s day

likes to wear something green under his suit or have one piece of decor hidden in the depths of his office

has really low spice tolerance BUT really likes it and also he has a reputation to keep up as the big and tough guy so he WILL try and hide how much water he is chugging

he likes the dad ice cream flavours like pistachio and rum raisin

but hates dad hobbies like golfing or collecting stuff like antique coins or dioramas

he just doesn’t have the patience for it

can cook and bake!!!! actually scratch that he can do all of the chores and is basically a househusband but is simply unwilling to do it

peter b may or may not have gotten him a kiss the cook apron that may or may not be the only apron he owns…

he could 100% have gourmet meals every day but he doesn’t have anyone to impress but himself so most days he just lives off of the sealed, pre-cooked chicken breasts from the convenience store and reheated rice that he makes in a big batch once a week

because yes chicken can be store bought but microwaved rice tastes too much like chemicals, especially for his heightened taste buds

is a shower guy

he thinks that baths are too inefficient and most tubs can’t fit him

but if you somehow manage to find one that’s big enough…oh boy he’ll act like you are waterboarding him but honestly he’s having the time of his life

competitive as hell, even when he acts like he could not care less

like he does not understand the concept of letting somebody else win, why is he handicapping himself and letting them think they’re better than they actually are?

he doesn’t mean it in a way to establish dominance or superiority

he just thinks that it’s weird to let someone win because wouldn’t lying to them be worse? now they can’t even improve

designed his own suit and probably gets a little bit self conscious when someone comments on it because he really isn’t an aesthetics guy but he worked really hard and is proud of his suit 🥺

was perhaps a little bit salty about the dark garfield comment but you didn’t hear that from me

please never trust him with naming or decorating though because if left on his own, it’s either going to be the most disgusting combination of items ever known to man or quite literally the bare minimum

don’t even think about a bed frame, there’s a chance that he doesn’t even have a mattress

he’s good with personal hygiene though

a slight germaphobe in the sense that he wants everything to be sterile (a habit he picked up from always being in the lab) but is more than okay with getting his hands dirty, just as long as he can thoroughly sanitize them afterwards

a terrible movie watcher

he either does not understand the movie whatsoever and keeps on asking questions that they just answered a minute ago

or he’s ripping them apart for their weird pseudoscience

honestly his ranting ends up being more entertaining than the movie at times

be prepared for a full lecture if you don’t stop him at some point though

i’ve heard a lot of people throw out spanish songs that they think he would listen to but might i suggest some non-spanish songs

he gives me doja cat vibes, don’t ask me, i just feel it

personally, i don’t think he would actively listen to kpop or be into the fan culture but he probably enjoys some songs without even realizing they’re kpop

i’m thinking newjeans and maybe epik high??

ABBA

mitski and hozier (where are my depressed wlw at) because you know that when he’s in his brooding self hating mood that he needs suitable bgm

HATES cruises

something about being on water does not vibe with his spider-catness

neither does the overall cruise ship experience

hot tubs and buffets just don’t really do it for him

there’s not much space for privacy except for your own room but even then the walls are fairly thin

so it’d be nearly impossible for him to get any sort of peace

me and the rest of the internet all seem to have agreed that he has insomnia and i feel like a cruise ship would not help whatsoever

would complain about how the mexican food is just what americans think mexican food is like

is too much of a workaholic to take an extended break, and it’s too difficult to jump back into work should there be an emergency