#wash fic

[plagues02]

Is There Room For Four?

Chapter Three - Room for Four

Summary: Years went on, Task Force 141 gained more members. Captain Price recently found a person he thought would be a great fit for the team. Little did anyone know, they would be the missing piece to three other members Characters: Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Gary 'Roach' Sanderson, Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish, König, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, John Price Ships: SoapGhostRoach, SoapGhostRoachKönig, Plantonic SoapGaz CW: Accidental Misgendering, Depiction of a panic attack Word Count: 2998 Note: This was written back in 2023 and was originally posted on Ao3 Chapters: One, Two, Three(You're Here), Four

“Have you heard of that colonel guy that’s coming down to help with some missions?”

Gary looked up when Johnny spoke to them. Simon looked over his shoulder from across the room with an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

The three of them were off base in their England flat. After a few years of their relationship, Johnny moved in with Gary and Simon. It was easier for the three of them since Johnny did live in Scotland before.

It had been about five years since Task Force 141 was formed, and the team remained the same at the core with a few new members. Alex became an official member about a year in, along with his soulmate, Farah. Farah remained in Urikzastand; Alex spent his time between the United States and Urikzstand. Alejandro and Rudy were also official members but continued to work in Mexico, unless they were needed elsewhere.

About two weeks ago, they all received an email from Price about a foreign colonel coming to England to assist them.

“What was his name again..? Otto Wanger, I think,” Simon added, watching Johnny walk across the room to join the other two on the couch. “He was,, what? German?”

Gary shook his head, making a clicking sound with his tongue to get the other’s attention. “Austrian. The email didn’t say much. Not about Otto or about the mission.”

The Scotsman flopped down, leaning against the American’s shoulder. He pulled out his work phone and went to the email, forgetting about all of what the email said alread. A chuckle left his lips as he looked at the image attached.

Turning the phone towards the two of them, Johnny said, “Hey, looked like you and Simon aren’t going to be the only masked men around base now.”

Simon looked over, mumbling out, “Funny looking mask.”

“Like yours is any better.”

The oldest of the three huffed, leaning over Gary to bump their heads together. A smile came to his lips as Gary chuckled at this action. Simon bumped their heads together as well before sitting back again.

“I think it’s an old t-shirt.”

Johnny and Simon looked back at the picture after Gary signed this. It did, in fact, look like an old t shirt.

“Well, looks like we’re gonna meet him tomorrow we’ll see then,” said Johnny, scanning over the email again.

König let out a small sigh they didn’t realize they were holding as they stepped off the plane. No matter how many years they were in the military, from their time in the German Special Forced and KorTac, they still felt nervous going to new places. They were getting too old for these nerves, but still, they couldn’t shake it.

König had met Price when he was in Austria on a lone mission. It was accidental that they ended up working together since they were after the same information; Price was impressed by the taller person’s skills, both on and off the field. When their reputation and skills, Price knew they were the best person for the job when he needed an extra pair of hands

The Austrian pressed their hands together, fiddling with their thumbs while they looked around for the Captian. They saw a familiar bucket hat and started to walk closer to him. Price looked up when they were closer.

“It’s nice to see you again, Colonel Otto,, or do you prefer König, sir?” the captain asked, shaking the other’s hand.

“König,” they quickly replied. “Um, Otto is fine though.”

“König it is then,” Price nodded. “Come on, sir. I’ll show you around base, and introduce you to the team.”

König smiled under their mask, reaching up to fix it as it was becoming crooked. They enjoyed the captain’s presence, and his words made him feel,,, safe? Was that right? Yeah, he was a kind man, after all. A light in their dark grey world.

First in the tour was the bunks, where they would be staying for the time being. They had a small private room in the bunks due to their rank. The training rooms were next, and so on and so on. The tour took a little over an hour before they returned to the bunks. Price had to step away, and König remained in the bunks area.

The person reached under their mask to rub their eyes, trying to wake themselves up with a sigh. It was still early in the morning, but it already felt like a long day that wanted to drag. Them not being a morning person didn’t help. All they felt like doing was curling into bed and sleeping the rest of the day away.

“Are you the colonel?”

König jumped at the new voice and turned to look at the owner. They thought back to all the pictures and names they were shown. Gaz? Yeah, that man was Gaz.

“Ja.”

The younger man smiled and held a hand out. “Gaz,” he introduced himself, confirming their suspicions. “It’s nice to meet you, Colonel Otto, sir.”

They took his hand, avoiding eye contact, “König. My name is König.”

Gaz raised an eyebrow before nodding, pulling his hand away. He decided against question them. “So how did you and Captian Price meet?”

The Austrian fiddled with their fingers again. “We met on a mission,, well, more like we had a similar mission and ended up working together,” they explained with a small chuckle.

The two of them spoke while they waited for the rest of Task Force 141 to get to the base. König felt their social anxiety calling down as they spoke to Gaz. He was a good man, and from the sound and look of it, a good soldier. Price came and got them about thirty minutes later.

The anxiety started to return at the sight of the other three.

Soap and Roach didn’t seem tha scary. The Scot had a stupid smile on his face while talking to the shorter man, and the smile stayed when he looked over at the newcomer. Roach looked up at König, eyes widening a little. He turned to the other two, making hand movements.

“Tall,” the rest of 141 understood. König would have to learn BSL to understand him.

The last of the three just stared at König, eyes narrowing a little. The taller person looked away, shifting on their feet. The hair on the back of their neck stood, and the pit in their stomach returned. They took a small breath and turned back to the man with the skull masked man, avoiding eye contact.

“Sir, this is Soap, Roach, and Ghost,” Price introduced, motioning to them as he said their name. “This is Colonel König. He will be staying and help us for the time being.”

König let a small chuckle. “There’s no need to call me sir. It’s a nice to meet you,” they said with a small hand wave.

“Hey, König!” Soap called out before König was able to leave the showers. They had did some training with the others, and was about to return to the bunks after taking a shower. “We all were going to a nearby pub.”

The scotsman stepped closer, looking at the person’s masked face. “Want to join us? Get to know each other, if we’re gonna be working together,” he suggested with a smile.

König rubbed their thumb against the bottom of their shirt, thinking about the words. Maybe this would help relieve some of the anxiety they felt about working with the team.

With a shaky breath, they nodded.

Soap’s grin widened. “Great! We won’t take long,” he said before going to finish washing up.

With the rest of the team showered and changed within the hour, they decided to walk to the pub as it wasn’t that far away. König left their work mask at the base, but they still wore a simple black mask. They felt naked without their work mask, but it would bring more attention to themselves, which was something they’d like to avoid.

It was strange walking with the members. König was older than them all by a few years. Age already showed on their face with wrinkles around their eyes. According to people would could see color, their hair was also greying with white streaks on the sides.

Color,, at their old age, König had given up on finding their soulmate. They had yet to meet their romantic or platonic soulmate, and they were starting to believe they didn’t have either. Starting to? They were almost positive they hadn’t. It didn’t matter anymore. They were getting too old to worry about stuff like soulmates, but,,, having a soulmate to hold still sounded nice.

König noticed a few things as they watched the group. They were all close and were very comfortable around each other. Soap was the most touchy for the four(Price had remained back at base). His hand was always on one of them, but it seemed different depending on who it was. With Gaz, it remained more friendly and platonic, but with Roach and Ghost, they were more,, Well, he got closer with them, holding their hands or an arm around their waist. It didn’t take long for them to realize that Soap, Roach, and Ghost were romantic soulmates. It was written all over their body language.

It must be nice,,,

At the pub, the group sat at a table near the back at Ghost’s request. He was like König it seemed. They preferred to stay in the back, to the sidelines. Soap and Gaz were more outgoing and enjoyed talking to others. Roach was in the middle. Quiet, but didn’t mind the company of the others. 

“Say, König,” Soap was the first to speak after they got drinks. “This is gonna sound weird, but we were talking about you yesterday. Are you German or Austrian?”

The person chuckled at this, glancing up. They were still careful to not meet their eyes, despite believe his soulmates were already found. “Austrian,” they replied. “I joined under the German military, though.”

“Ah! That’s were the confusion was,” the Scotsman said with a small laugh.

The conversation continued from there. It stayed in military talk for a few minutes, discussing how they joined and a few missions they've been on. Through this, König's suspicions were confirmed. Soap, Roach, and Ghost were romantic soulmates and met through the military. Soap was also platonic soulmates with Gaz. 

"You have a soulmate, König?”

König hesitated at the question. A small laugh left their lips. “No, no, and I think I’m a little too old to worry about finding them.”

As they spoke, they looked up a little, not thinking anything of it. There was no way König would have know they would meet the eyes of the Scotsman. Nor would they know they would see the blue of his eyes.

“Johnny?” Ghost spoke up with a raised eyebrow at his change of expression. He glanced at the Austrian and froze.

König saw more color in their void world. Ghost’s eyes were a greenish grey color. Soap’s were blue. A lot of other things had color, but there were still some greys in the world.

That’s when Roach leaned forward to look at his soulmates before looking over at König. There was the rest of the colors. Browns, oranges, reds. In the matter of moments, their black and white world was full of color. So much color.

“Oh shit,” Soap was the first to speak, clueing Gaz in on what was going.

So many things were running through König’s head. The first was that all this color was overwhelming all at once. The second was that they had three soulmates.. Three soulmates that were all like ten years younger than them,, and already knew each other. Their chest tightened.

“König-”

The person didn’t say anything, freezing in place. The sound of the bustling bar became background noise as they felt their vision started to blur. They could see the blurs of the men who save their world color shift closer to them. They spoke, but König couldn’t hear the words.

No no no no no, it couldn’t be them. It couldn’t be them. König just met them. They all already knew each other. They had been together for a long time before König was even a thought to them.

Oh god, their ages. How old were they? They looked young. Far younger than him. They didn’t see any grey in any of their hair. Nor did they notice any aging wrinkles on their face. Their ranks were so much lower than their own. Would they even-

So many things were running through Ghost’s head as the man in front of them completely froze. His breathing was starting to become uneven and forced. His green eyes were starting to water, and his face was becoming redder and redder.

He glanced at the others at the table. Ghost met Soap's eyes and nodded before standing up. He whispered something to Gaz, who nodded in response. Without a word, the trio walked to the other side of the table to get the tall man to stand.

"Hey, we're going somewhere quiet," Soap whispered to him. "Can we lead you there?"

All König could do was nod before letting his soulmates lead him towards the bathroom of the pub. He was extremely shaky, they all noticed, and he barely reacted to anything around him.

They had all seen this before. They were all in the military, after all. It wasn’t uncommon for them to have a panic attack and to help each other through them. It would be easier to deal away from the loud noise of the pub.

Ghost glanced over when he heard König start to speak again. It was extremely shaky and in broken English. 

"No, no, I can't- you can't be-"

Once in the bathroom, Roach locked the door behind them as Ghost and Soap helped König sit down on the ground as he was struggling to stand up. 

"Hey, big guy," Soap's voice was soft, as he knelt down in front of the other. "Can you look at- oh!"

He shifted back a little as König made a quick motion of pulling his mask off before whatever he had eaten earlier in the day came up. A sob left his lips as he also scooted away from it.

This could be going better, Ghost thought, not wanting to get too close to  not accidentally overwhelming the other even more. Soap looked up at him, thinking the same. 

"Y-you can't - I can,, can't be- I can't be the one -" König gasped out, reaching up to yank on the side of his hair. 

Roach moved forward, kneeling in front of the taller man. He grabbed his wrists to stop him from tugging at his hair. His eyes met the watery green eyes of König. 

"I-I-"

"Shhhh."

Soap and Ghost jumped a little at the sound of Roach's voice. They had only heard it a handful of times themselves over the years they were together. Roach didn't like to speak so he didn't, unless he felt like it was needed.

"Hey, hey, look at me. Don't look away," Roach's voice came out as a whisper, touching König's face. "Can you answer some things for me? Please?"

"J,,ja."

Roach moved his other hand away from König's wrist. He moved a little, sitting down on his knees between the other's legs. 

"Okay, what are five things that you see?"

König's eyes looked around. "A toilet,, my,, vomit,, sink,, you,, brown eyes,,"

"Good boy. What are four things you can touch?"

"Floor cold,, my clothes,,your hand,, your clothes." He said the last part as he moved to press his forehead against Roach's shoulder. 

Roach glanced over his back at the other two in the room. They were watching, remaining quiet. König didn't seem as shaky as before; they didn't want to cause him any more stress. 

"3 things you can hear?"

"Pub music, my heart beat, your breathing."

Roach ran his fingers through König's hair. He felt König arms wrap around him, hands gripping the back of his shirt. He heard footsteps of his other soulmates getting closer, seeing how the Austrian was calming down  

"2 things you can smell?"

"Alcohol,, cologne?"

"Yeah, I'm wearing cologne," Roach confirmed. "One more question, okay? What's one thing you can taste?"

",,,vomit aftertaste."

Ghost and Soap knelt down on König, side away from the vomit. Soap rested his hand on the other's back as Ghost placed one on his knee.

"You want to talk now, big guy?"

",,,Not a guy."

"You still want to talk?"

",, yeah," he, no, they said. 

König moved their head away from Roach's shoulder to look at all three of them. They finally were able to take in how they all looked. Soap and Roach had brown hair. Soap had blue eyes, while Roach had brown. Ghost,, they couldn't tell his hair color with the balaclava, but they would remember the greenish gray eyes. 

Roach,, Gary ran his fingers through König's gray hair, paying extra attention to the white streaks on the side. Johnny moved a hand up to run his fingers through the person's salt and pepper beard. He ran his thumb over the other's lip, over an old scar. 

While König was distracted by the other two, Ghost reached up to pull his mask off, showing his (totally not dyed) black hair. Simon shifted to lean forward to press their foreheads together. His eyes met with König's green eyes.

"Let's figure this out together. We'll take it as slow as you need it, okay?"

König nodded. "Okay."

"You're back early," Price looked over as he noticed Gaz was back at the base. ",, Without König. Did something happen?"

The younger man looked over, wondering how to word it, before he decided just to say it, "König is their soulmate."

",, you're joking, right?"

[justaz]

arthur notices merlin and lancelot’s chemistry in s1 and then merlin and gwaine’s chemistry in s3 and comes to the conclusion that merlin likes men with long hair. in completely unrelated news, arthur thinks he might look good with long hair and decides to grow it out

[ky-landfill]

[izzystizzys]

There is a scratch mark on the floor of the Council chambers that Mace has never noticed before. Not a deep one, mind, quite shallow. This matters because it’s making the white-hot pulse of agony stabbing through his eyeballs ebb momentarily. Then, he chances a glance upwards at the fidgeting Knight in front of them, and it returns in full force.

Huh, he’s never seen Oppo Rancisis’ face turn that colour before.

“Hmm”, Master Yoda hums, deep and scratchy. His expression is unreadable even to Mace beyond a baseline gremlinness, and the force with which he grips the edges of his seat is making his bones creak. Master of the Order you should become, they said. Follow the calling of the Force, you should. A fulfilling purpose, it will be. Mace is going to hunt the little goblin for sport when this is all over, and he’s going to laugh the whole time.

“Show us the livestream again, could you, Knight Parvo?” Yoda asks. Mace bursts a capillary, he’s pretty sure, and so does poor Knight Parvo, whose orange Mon Cala skin tips all the way into blood red with stress. “Most unusual, this is.”

“Absolutely not!”, Ki Adi intervenes before Mace has to, thank the Force for little mercies. Plo Koon’s tusks tremble slightly with either suppressed laughter or abject horror, maybe both, and Stass Allie has her head in her hands. “The holo stills should be enough”, Ki Adi proceeds to add, and Mace has to reconsider all feelings of grace he just felt towards his fellow Councillor.

He never wants to watch Yoda zoom in on someone’s abs again. Or Depa raise her eyebrows at the curve of thighs bent over the dripping front of a speeder.

“Speeder Wash For Our Troops”, his former padawan reads out loud from a still of what has to be hundreds of the things gathered in the public senate parking lot. “Fund Our Boys And Get A Wet Seeing-To!” The series of images features dozens of Coruscant Guard troopers in various stages of unkitted, gleaming and shining with soap suds and water. The fact that the whole thing is also massive shatterpoint after massive shatterpoint is, quite frankly, insulting.

“Well hello- oh dear”, Obi-Wan’s blue form crackles to life in his chair, followed by several sounds of choking that are definitely not him. Good, Mace thinks acidly. If he has to deal with this, then so does kriffing Skywalker. “I’m sorry, why am I looking at Commander Thorn using a washrag like a lasso on top of a speeder?”

“Oh, the Guard’s little fundraising project”, Bail Organa says, as he steps into the Council chambers. Normally, Mace likes the man well enough. Now, he just smiles and adds on, “I’ve already donated, in mine and Breha’s name. Remotely, of course.”

“The Guard’s fundraising speeder wash?”, Obi-Wan repeats, edges of his holo form flickering with what Mace suspects is Skywalker very unsubtly trying to edge in. Force, but the man really is horrible at any and all stealth, like kissing his secret wife in an open arena in front of his Master. “And they are fundraising for…?”

“GAR budget allocations have to come from somewhere”, Organa shrugs. “And with the tide of public opinion turning, they’ve been tending towards cuts. The Guard feels them more keenly than any other sector - they’ve been reduced from half to quarter rations, and medical supplies have not made more than a token appearance in the last draft. The Chancellor has cancelled three consecutive meetings on the matter, and thus it was agreed that a more hands-on approach was needed. Any surplus will go into the Army fund.”

“Surely it can’t be that dire”, Oppo protests, a slightly less concerning shade of purple now. Senator Organa shrugs again, jostling the smattering of cracks slowly building around his person in a way that makes Mace wince quietly. “It’s all publicly available data, Masters.”

It really can be that dire, as it turns out. And quarter rations is only scratching the surface of how dire, considering the Guard has apparently never had access to bacta in all their posting, and also includes requisitioning forms available to the Senate for reconditionings and decommissionings, two words Mace has only heard Ponds whispers amidst shuddering in the early days of the war before Shaak Ti went off and just about tore some throats out over it.

“Alright”, he concedes, rubbing at his temples. “Fair enough, we have failed to tackle a massive blind spot in the Guard’s well being. There is no Jedi assigned to Coruscant, and that’s an oversight on our behalf. But how in the everloving kriff did this get past the Chancellor and Commander Fox?!”

Who have both signed, black on white. Bail Organa smiles cryptically. “Well, if you scroll a bit past that one image, up to the industrial speeder in the back - Commander Fox is currently having credits stuffed into his codpiece in the back, I believe.”

“HE’S WHAT IN THE WHAT NOW”, Commander Cody screeches through the speaker of Obi-Wan’s holo image, and Mace has to summon every bit of Jedi-serenity he possesses in his body to keep from dropkicking a cackling Yoda through the chamber windows.

[zephyrchama]

Vampire MC part I - with Lucifer heads up - this is pretty suggestive

(intro can be found here)

"How long did you intend to keep me waiting?"

Though the lights were off and the room was dark, you could clearly see Lucifer sitting up in bed. His deep voice was deeper than usual, tinged with grogginess. You wavered by the doorway, unsure if you were still invited in. He sighed and leaned his head back against the headboard.

"I told you hours ago to come to me if you had any problems. Don't be so distant and get over here."

It lifted your spirits to slide under the blankets next to Lucifer. Already, you felt a little more normal. Everything was tinged with the scent of his usual cologne. His bed had so much space and you were content with just being in the same room, no longer alone, but the sleepy demon soon tugged you into his embrace. He sighed contentedly into your hair, settling his head into the pillows with an arm around you.

With his chest in front of your nose, his scent flooded your mind. Under the cologne there was a muskier, heartier smell that made your mouth go dry. Your breathing slowed, not out of exhaustion but hunger, and with each new breath it got harder and harder to fall asleep.

"Lucifer, are you awake?" you whispered.

"Mm." He emitted a barely audible low rumble but didn't actually seem awake. He never mentioned that sleep evaded him for the entire month you were away. You wondered if you could wait until morning.

Was that wooshing noise the sound of your own blood, or Lucifer's? All of these new senses were so foreign. You lifted your chin to graze your lips under his collarbone. The contact made your fangs ache. He felt warm. If you dragged your teeth over his soft skin, lightly nipping at the surface, could you continue to hold back?

The more you allowed yourself to do, the more you started slipping, lightly tracing your teeth over where you felt a vein could be and pressing the edges of your fangs into him. You wanted more. With a light moan, a grip on your hair began to tighten. Lucifer guided your head properly to his neck and murmured, "quit being a tease."

Starving, you lurched forward and gasped and properly sunk your teeth into the offered skin. Lucifer groaned quietly as you melted into his embrace. The closer you pressed against him, the easier it got to access your snack. He dug the tips of his nails into your scalp. The fresh, warm taste of Lucifer's blood trickling down your throat was more satisfying than any late night treat.

The two of you stayed like that. With a fully content stomach, your eyes grew heavy and you dozed off into your first comfortable sleep since the transformation.

Lucifer would make sure you didn't oversleep. He always emphasized that timing was important. He'd be sure to rouse you in the early hours of the morning, before anyone else was awake. He loomed over your resting form in the dark on his hands and knees, ready to take his compensation.

[glass-noodle]

> INITIALIZING... > ... > ... [ OBJECTIVE: STOP THE DEVIANT LEADER

S̶̬̜̭̀A̴̡̞͌̚V̸̢̗̪͗E̴̠̥̿͒ ̸̧̤̮̎͠Ļ̴̱̓I̸̯͑̓͊͜E̴̢̖̓̚͜U̵̬̼̐T̷̡̰̦́Ȩ̸̕Ņ̸̳͔̒̊̿À̴̠͂N̶̢̻͑̉͝T̷̯̫͐ ̷̨̽̓À̴͚͚̚͝Ṉ̵̪̇́D̸͖̭̂̾̑Ḙ̴̍R̵͍̂̍̄S̶̢̠͌̕O̷̢̢̠̅̀N̷͘

S̶̟͈͍̱̩͒̉͂̌̔́͋͆Ą̵͕̽̋͘V̷͉̖̭͍̺̰͙͑̓̌́̾͌̋̚Ę̷̬͈̣̲̤̰̙̓̿̕ ̵̛͙̜͓̮͐͗̇́̉Ỵ̷̫̩̜̭̬͚́͛̽͠O̷̲͎͙̩͒Ú̴̥̯̣̺̫̒̚R̶̯̳̀́͌̾̈͘͠S̴̰͆̓̄̿̕͝͝Ę̴͚͇̪͆̏L̷͉̼̭̟̻̯̰̈̃͆̎͂̏̅͜F̵̨̰͑ ]

> ... > ...

> SIMULATION OVERRIDE

> TRY AGAIN? [Y/N]

How far would you go to save the one you love?

I had the ABSOLUTE pleasure of collaborating with the amazing, talented, insane @nothinggathers for the DBH Reverse Big Bang 2024 @dbh-bb. This is a project that's been marinating in my head for a while featuring an initially machine!Connor leaping through different universes to try and save Hank, and deviating over the course of his journey as he grows more desperate to save him, develops a sense of connection with his own people and identity, and — of course — falls in love. It's been months of blood, sweat, tears, and lots of screaming, and there will be several more of the same, because this monster of a collab is reaching well over 150k words (Atro, I love you).

start here!!

(more close-up shots because the details on this piece took me forever):

[sunatsubu]

A scene from Ch 4 of What Keeps You Here by @avoidcrow and @every-captain (link in replies). This laundry scene was what made me really fall in love with the fic, the first of many PAINFULLY relateable moments T_T

[pyjamacryptid]

I’m not sure how I got here but I’ve been thinking about the intimacy and devotion of washing another’s hair, the hair of someone you care for (how unconditional a gesture it is) and I then thought of Merlin doing it for Arthur.

It’s not in the job description (a lot of what Merlin does for Arthur is not in the job description) and it’s unlikely something that started his first day as Arthur’s servant. Nor the second or the 20th or by the 6th month. Arthur may be a prince, a prattish one at that, but when it comes to his baths he only expects of Merlin what he expects of any manservant - call for the tub, draw the water, lay out a towel, place fresh clothes close by and so on. But, naturally, he’s also a prince that commands the knights and with training comes injuries. Perhaps an arm was dislocated and he’s on strict orders from Gaius not to utilise it, and definitely not to reach above his head. Later that same day Arthur sits in the bath and realises too late he can’t tend to his own hair. But he doesn’t call Merlin over from where he’s making the bed. He tries to do it himself. He’s still got one working arm, after all.

Arthur only knows how to command things be done. He doesn’t know how to ask for things. He doesn’t yet know that asking isn’t weakness.

But he can’t hide his struggling from Merlin, who’s more mother hen than manservant.

“Here, let me,” he says, suddenly behind Arthur, “before you lose all the bathwater and your arm, both.”

“I don’t need your help, Merlin.”

“Of course not, sire. Now, pass me the hair oil.”

“Excuse me, who is it that gives the orders here?”

“You, sire. The hair oil.”

“…”

“Thank you. Right, hold still. I said hold still—“

After, Arthur will wonder why he ever thought Merlin would be anything but gentle. After, Arthur will wonder when his eyes closed and why they feel a little wet, especially as Merlin took great care to catch anything before it fell in Arthur’s face.

Over time, a stool begins to sit beside the bath, whenever it’s drawn. Over time, Arthur will notice Merlin’s fingers never grow any less gentle (even when he knows his manservant is angry with him). Over time, Arthur will want to ask why Merlin added washing his hair to his list of jobs indefinitely, long after his arm healed, but is afraid he’ll only prompt Merlin to stop because it’s not a job at all. Over time, Arthur will wonder what oils Merlin uses on his own hair, if he has access to hair oil at all, and how his cropped hair might feel to touch.

[blackynsupremacy]

CLARK KENT HELPING YOU TAKE OUT YOUR BRAIDS HEADCANONS

pairing: henry cavill!clark x blackfem!reader

fandom: DC

this was brewing in my head while actually taking out my braids today. plus, i wanted to give my baby henry a shot at this.

summary: it’s that time again! time to take down those 1-2 month old braids to prepare for your next fresh set. the only problem is, it’s raining, you’re tired, and you know it’s gonna take forever. yeah even getting your hair taken down, washed, detangled, and dried can be a hassle. fortunately, your fiancé, clark kent, is always happy to help with the process.

contains: lots of words, some things are based on true events, self insert, fluff, romance, established relationship, you and clark are simps, you and clark being fine, nudity but no smut, clark being a green flag, cuddling, kissing.

taglist: @rosiestalez @afrowrites @afrogirl3005 @simply-the-best23 @jkr820 @zombiehe4rt @elitesanjisimp @sabrinasopposite @gxuxhdjdu @tryingtograspctrl @ellethespaceunicorn

(i know i didn’t ask if ya’ll wanted to be tagged, but y’all are mutuals that consistently interact with my posts, so this is how i’m showing my appreciation! thank you! let me know if any of yall want to be tagged in my next blurb. again thank yall and i love my mutes)

• work was work today.

• it’s raining like hell.

• but good news, you’re getting your hair done this weekend! ain’t nothing like a fresh set of braids.

• the bad news, you gotta take out the old braids, wash/condition/detangle, and blow dry your hair all before your appointment. (yk how these new hair stylists be)

• girl, you’re dead tired, but you know you need to start asap!

• good news again though! your man clark kent is already home and you know he’s always down to help with your hair.

• ya’ll have been dating for 4 years before he popped the question a month ago on your anniversary.

• one thing about clark kent, he’s gonna hype up your hair no matter what style.

• he believes you’re stunning whether you have braids, twists, a lace front, locs, a slick back ponytail, a silk press or, your natural. he loves it!!

• he loves to watch you style it on your own or if you’re following along to a youtube tutorial.

• you’ve taught him a thing or two like taking down braids, detangling, applying edge control, and even helping you to wash and condition it!

• he catches on pretty fast and follows your instructions to a tee.

• his love language is acts of service and when it comes to your hair, he wants to make sure he does it properly.

• he told you he wants to continue learning because he can see himself helping out with your future daughter’s hair, so why not start with his future wife?

• this man is going to be the death of you.

• you see clark sitting on the couch with his laptop. as soon as he hears the door shut followed by your sigh of exhaustion, he’s already putting that to the side and zooming in your direction to take your bag, umbrella, and jacket off your hands.

• this man is teeth rotting sweet. how’d you get so blessed?

• he greets you with a warm embrace and plants a kiss atop of your head. he peeps that new growth, but he won’t mention it until you do.

• you both take a seat on the couch and have a brief conversation about each other’s day. you sigh again and run a hand through your hair one last time.

• “it’s about that time, clark. i’m getting my hair done soon and i need to start taking my braids down, but i’m so tired!”

• you whine and lean your head on his broad shoulder before you peer your “please help me” doe eyes into his blue ones that were hiding behind his glasses. he doesn’t hesitate to keep that eye contact either. it’s so intense yet intimate. you almost look away because even after 4 years, clark can still get you a bit flustered from time to time.

• “baby, would you like to help me out again? i promise you’re not gonna have to do all the work. i just need some assistance to get this done faster.”

• you playfully pout and bat your lashes. you already know the answer, but this brought you joy. you knew he was waiting for an opportunity to help with your hair again.

• he shows off those pearly whites before he enthusiastically responds, “i’d never thought you’d ask. you go change into something more comfortable, i’ll handle the rest, and we can get started.”

• he lays a chaste kiss to your lips and pats your behind to signal for you to handle your business and you don’t hesitate to do so.

• by “handling the rest”, clark gathers the necessities: 2 pairs of scissors, a detangling comb, 4 hair ties for sectioning, a plastic bag from that one drawer in the kitchen, your satin bonnet, and an order of chinese takeout placed on doordash.

• clark was waiting on the couch and he gleamed when he saw you come back clad in a white tank, no bra, grey cotton shorts, and one of his oversized, plaid flannels.

• as soon as you found yourself comfortable on the couch, clark handed you a pair of scissors and ya’ll got to work at cutting the braids shorter before you both section off your hair into 4 parts and start unbraiding from the front.

• you started on the right side, while clark took over for the left.

• you obviously know of clark’s abilities, his extraterrestrial heritage, and his intense duties as superman. he makes sure his powers can be of help in the most important areas of his life, one of them being your relationship.

• he’s had some practice with unbraiding and his fingers moves like clockwork. he moves at a delicate, quick pace and uses his keen eye to make sure your hair doesn’t get tangled or pulled, so there’s no unnecessary breakage. braid by braid, each one is removed out of your head and into the empty, plastic grocery bag that’s placed between you two.

• he’s seen you sometimes get it tangled and you would be quick to just cut it off, but with his aid, you’ve been doing that less frequently.

• after about 30 minutes, clark can already hear the doorbell ring and footsteps walking away. the food’s here.

• he opted for contactless delivery this time because he knew he just had one more braid….and done!

• he urges you to give your hands a break from unbraiding your side and to wash them because your dinner has arrived. he chuckled as you perked up hearing that because you were hon-grey!!

• he also takes it upon himself to gently place your satin, royal blue bonnet on your head.

• it’s his absolute favorite because it’s patterned with his iconic red and gold family crest!

• you have a friend who owns a small business of designing bonnets, durags, and head scarves with the cutest patterns imaginable for black nerds like you.

• they got some with superheroes, anime characters, hogwart house symbols, disney, you name it!!

• 2 years ago, you asked them to commission a bonnet to match his heroic attire.

• this was to show him that you’re proud of his kryptonian roots and that you 100% support him being one of the world’s most selfless heroes along with the other members of the justice league.

• you sometimes worry for his life, but he always tries his best to make it back to you in one piece.

• but girl, that bonnet had him geeking when you showed it to him!! his face heated with a bright hue of pink before he plants a billion kisses all over your face. his voice never ceasing his appreciation and eternal love for you.

• you both chill for a few minutes to eat and watch some tv.

• you stretch your hands, placed your bonnet on the coffee table and resumed to unbraiding the last strand on the front before sectioning it off with a hair tie and starting on the back of the right side. it seems that time moves slower (or faster) as your fingers meticulously unravel each braided strand.

• clark is half way done with his entire side. his brows raise at the sound of your soft groan of what seemed to be pain and exhaustion.

• “babe, my fingers are starting to cramp and so are my arms.” you gripe and pause your movements to massage out the stiffness in your fingers.

• clark also pauses what he’s doing. he delicately grasps your hands into his, sprinkling tiny pecks on each aching knuckle. his pink lips lingers on the rock that adorns the fourth knuckle of your left hand before those baby blues gaze into your own eyes.

• you could clearly see your worn reflection in his pupils, but you lovingly smile as you know what he’s about to say.

• “c’mere, beautiful. let me take care of the rest while you sit and relax. it’s just a few more and it’s nothing i can’t handle, so it’ll be my pleasure.”

• that’s true. clark’s an invincible kryptonian. unless your hair was laced with some green k, a cramp within the joints of his digits wouldn’t be possible. if you ask, he would one day take out your braids all by himself without you having to lift a finger and he’d be in pure bliss of taking that burden off your plate.

• he spreads his thighs apart. the large palms of his hands encircle around your waist to shift your body in between his legs before his fingers get back to tenderly remove the last remaining braids.

• as he does so, you simply enjoy each other’s presence. ya’ll would be cracking jokes, planning suggestions for the wedding, your jobs, and a myriad of other topics to kill time.

• about 30 more minutes pass by and your braids are finally out! he leans back feeling accomplished and marvels at how much your hair has grown over the month.

• “may i?” he politely asks. his expectant eyes glancing into yours for approval.

• “of course, kal.” you grin. it’s like seeing a child light up in a candy store, he’s so elated.

• you feel more at ease and lean into his touch as his fingers lovingly caress through your natural hair and scalp.

• you know that he just wants to feel your hair in it’s natural state. it’s not out of a fetish, but out of pure fascination, so you let him!

• you love that even though you’ve been together for 4 years and he’s helped you with your hair on multiple occasions, the curious kryptonian wonders why he always has to ask you before touching your hair.

• as a journalist, he’s gonna conduct his own research.

• he educates himself and he understands the history of that one boundary in your community, so he always asks you before touching your hair or he waits for you to offer.

• he’s not even human and he understands the basic human decency of not to reach out and touch someone’s hair out of nowhere.

• you sigh in relief and thank clark with a kiss before you go to dispose the plastic bag of worn out braids to the kitchen and into the large garbage can. you turn around and lean up against the sink.

• now it’s time to wash, condition, detangle, and dry.

• clark already knows the next step. he stands from his position on the couch and stretches his back muscles. he moderately saunters to the arched threshold that separates the kitchen and living room. his tall stature works in his favor as he casually raises his arms with his hands gripping the arch that’s a few inches above his head.

• you know exactly what pose i’m trying to poorly describe to the best of my ability. it happens to be one of those non-sexual turn ons that men do without them realizing.

• you go into a bit of a hypnotic state as you stare at his bulging biceps. you also take notice of how his white t-shirt raises up to expose a small section of his sculpted abdomen. the raven tresses on his skin that perfectly matches the messy curls on his head form a trail straight down to his—

• the trance is broken by the baritone voice of your fiancé.

• “my eyes are up here, angel. were you even listening to me?” he flirtatiously quips and tilts his head with a playful smirk curving on his lips, lowering his arms to cross them over his chest.

• like some suave lady killer, he approaches you and places his index under your chin to shift your gaze to his.

• girl, not you getting caught in 4K! you know that man is fine, but you got to finish off your hair. there’s no time to waste when it comes to that, so you must stay focused.

• you can’t help, but feel the heat of embarrassment rush on your melanated cheeks and giggle nervously before you confess.

• “i’m sorry, clark! after all of these years, you still get me sprung. now, what were you saying, boo? ”

• “it’s no worries, (n/n). don’t doubt that you’ve got the same effect on me too.” he blushes himself, beaming at the compliment and pecks your forehead, nose, and lips before he resumes his question.

• “would you like to wash in the sink or shower?”

• he bursts into a joyous laugh as you don’t hesitate to choose the shower.

• of course he was hoping you’d say that, but you shut down the idea because you just want to kill two birds with one stone, wrap this up, and cuddle in bed.

• he understands where you’re coming from and it’s no pressure at all. you both love when you two get down in the bedroom, but you share a common belief that spending quality time is the key to true intimacy.

• he takes your hand and leads you both to your shared bathroom.

• he puts his glasses on the sink, switches on the shower and checks for the perfect temperature that’s not too hot for your scalp, but not too cool for your body.

• you go to obtain large drying towels, african net wash cloths, and disposable shower caps. you then seek out the shampoo, conditioner, and detangling cream to nourish and clean your hair.

• you return to the bathroom with the items and clark gets your second opinion on the water temperature. you get a feel and let him know that it’s just right before you both strip of your clothes until you’re both completely naked. you make sure your engagement ring is placed in the velvet box it came in and set it on your drawer before you both step under the running water.

• clark reaches up to detach the shower head. before making a move, he asks if you need any further assistance in this step and you gladly accept, closing your eyes as he handles the shower head to pre-rinse both of your heads for a well deserved cleaning.

• as he puts the shower head back where it belongs, you let him know that you want to do the shampooing for both you and him.

• yep, clark uses your products on his hair!

• one time after your fifth date, he hugged you and his sensitive nose stealthily picked up on the natural, sweet, and intoxicating scent of the hair lotion that seeped into your scalp. he thought at first it was your perfume, which he loves too, but he was mistaken!

• “my god, you smell amazing.”

• clark takes you out to dinner and feeds your ego! okay, kal-el!

• he couldn’t get enough of it!

• this aroma— it was like something fresh and made from natural ingredients without any harsh chemicals.

• it reminds him of the homegrown warmth and love that his parents, jonathan and martha raised him up in back in smallville.

• if it wasn’t so soon (or the fact that he hasn’t told you his secret then), he would literally fly you out there in 10 minutes.

• when you moved in together, he would sometimes sneak a bit of your shampoo and conditioner in his hair routine once or twice a week until you finally caught up to him!

• you scolded clark a bit for using your products without permission because you would’ve let him use a little if he’d ask and plus, that stuff was expensive!

• he looked genuinely remorseful and apologized. “i’m sorry, (f/n). it was wrong of me to sneak like that, but i just wanted to use it because it’s like i’m taking a part of you with me everywhere i go. that way even though we’re apart, i don’t feel so alone in this universe anymore.”

• that almost had you crying and throwing up. he’s as big a simp for you as you are for him, so you couldn’t stay mad at him!

• you had an agreement to share or double up as long as you both are putting in for it.

• it was definitely no problem for clark because besides it’s sentimental value, it does wonders for his hair! it looks healthier, shinier and it feels softer compared to those 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner concoctions that he’s been using since high school.

• he loves your weekly beauty supply store excursions. he doesn’t care if the 6 items in your cart is $35, he’s paying for it all!

• clark’s aqua pupils observes from behind as you pour a generous amount of shampoo into your palm, rubbing the other against it, and massaging the bubbly, white substance through your scalp. your fingers work to make sure every single hair on your head is lathered in the coconut scented liquid and he notices that you’re careful not to tangle it.

• his own trance is broken by a “your turn! now lean down a bit, my love.” you’re now waiting for him to follow through, leaning his head down and forward to make his now drenched, dark hair right in your view and in your reach.

• he exhales at the contact of the cold shampoo descending on his scalp. as your fingers massage through his hair, his eyes close and a smile of ecstasy plays on his lips.

• your touch, the scent of the product, and the fact that if he opened his eyes again at this very moment, your breasts would be right in his face is clark’s idea of his personal heaven.

• you both take turns to rinse your own hair and each others to double check that all of the suds of the shampoo are gone.

• you repeat the process again, but this time it’s with conditioner. once that’s applied, you both put on the shower caps to let it rest and do its thing.

• you both use that time to talk some more and thoroughly clean your bodies of the filth of the work day using the african net wash clothes and aromatherapy body wash.

• after one last rinse of ya’lls hair, you cut the water off and grab the towels set out to wrap around your soaked bodies and dripping hair before walking to your shared bedroom.

• fortunately, you and clark have your own respective hair dryers, so that step doesn’t take too long before you take on the final boss: detangling.

• still clad in your towels, you and clark apply the detangling cream through your scalps. as he uses his comb to effortlessly rake through his noir mop, you just kind of stand and stare at the detangling brush in your hand.

• if you’re tender headed, you’ve probably lived the nightmare over and over with your heavy handed mother tugging the comb through the knotted ends, jolting your head and neck forward as you whined in pain. of course she got mad at you for that and said that it didn’t even hurt.

• you’re grown now! with your own bills, home, car, job, and man. there’s way more stressful things in the world than getting some knots out.

• you start the teeth of the comb from the root of your hair and hear the wet stickiness of the detangling cream as it glides to the end.

• okay, we’re getting somewhere! no pain or the pulling of knots for the next few strands near the front. now let’s start on the back. comb one, comb two, comb three—

• “ow, ugh!” you yelp. cringing as you hit a knot at the end.

“ woah! sweetheart, are you alright?”

• clark immediately halts his actions and puts his comb down. he takes one step behind you to examine the situation.

“please, lord, don’t tell me it’s tangled that bad.”

• you attempt to comb without breaking your hair out and the more you try, the more painful it gets. your arms and hands started to stiffen again.

• you lowkey wanted to cry because you just want this to be done and sleep peacefully in clark’s arms for the rest of the night.

• you immediately ask clark for help and he once again, comes to the rescue. he was gentle and comforting, but straightforward when it came to getting those knots.

• he talks you through it to make this a little easier.

• “i’m so sorry, honey. this is gonna hurt a bit, but we’re gonna knock these out and go straight to bed in no time, okay? i love you.” he kisses your temple before he proceeds with the task.

• several minutes of detangling are over! clark gets a second shower of kisses all over his face as you thank him again.

• you discard your towels and replace them with your nightclothes. clark’s shirtless with his sweats and you’re comfortable in another one of clark’s shirts with a fresh pair of cotton shorts.

• you put your hair in an afro puff ponytail and as always, you let your fiancé do the honors of placing your superman patterned bonnet on over your hair like a king crowning his queen.

• he looks at you with such pride and joy. seeing you happy feels so good it hurts. it makes him feel as weak as when he’s around green k. maybe even more.

• clark wouldn’t feel too comfortable to wrap his hair up just yet, so you suggested he uses a satin pillowcase instead.

• speaking of pillows, you look at the clock and realize it’s gotten late. you and clark shut off the lights and retire your exhausted bodies into your bed.

• you lay in a fetal position and turn to face him. kryptonians don’t usually need that much sleep as humans do, so you weren’t surprised that he was still awake.

• you both gaze and admire each other in comfortable silence. your hand reaching to his jaw. your brown toned fingertips caress the pale yet angelic face of the man you love. he closes his eyelids and leans into your warm touch.

• like a magnet, you drew closer to his face until your, full yearning lips rested on his. it doesn’t take him a second to melt into it, his hands clinging to your waist to rest your figure on top of his. your palms find themselves to rest on each side of his jawline.

• between each kiss, the moonlight illuminates the wide smiles you exchange to each other.

• after you two get your fill of each other’s affection, you lay your head on clark’s chest with his arms still acting as a shield around your back. he pecks your temple and is pulled in by the music of your steady heartbeat. he looks down to see your eyes pointed toward his and your hands folded flat on his chest.

• “thank you, clark. thank you so much for your help, your patience, your kindness, your love, and your compassion. not to mention that you are so fine, you still get me giggling like a schoolgirl at my big age! whether you’re superman, clark kent, or kal-el, i just thank you for being you. i love you, clark kent and that’ll never change.” your lips curve with a beaming smile.

• “(f/n), you need to know that everything i do, i do it for you and i’d do it again. you’re the most beautiful person and i’m not just talking about your stunning beauty. your heart is golden. despite everything that we’ve been through, it’s always been you. you understand me, you give me grace and hold me accountable, you still believe in me when i don’t even believe in myself. that’s how i knew i had to ask you to marry me, so i love you more, (f/n) kent and that’ll never change.”

• “look at us! we’ve only been engaged for a month and it sounds like we’re exchanging vows already.”

• “that sounds like a great start to me.”

• you both laugh and he gives you one last lingering kiss on your lips. your heads drop and your eyelids close before you take your peaceful slumber in each other’s presence.

[tekitothemagpie]

HEY MA! THERE'S A WEIRD FUCKING STRAY CAT OUTSIDE!

[scrawnyghstts]

do any of you ever lay awake at night thinking about how Kremy gifted Gideon a comb even though, obviously, lizardfolk don't have any hair.

because that means that Kremy went out of his way to get Gid this gift. A comb isn't just something an alligator would have or just collect somewhere to have it for later, Kremy likely never needed or thought of having anything of the sort.

But Kremy noticed how roughed up Gideon was, how he didn't have anything on him to take care of himself and Kremy came up with the idea and then spent time and possibly money (or he just swiped it but still) to find a nice comb just for Gideon and then gave it to him.

Nikkie described it so beautifully that it was the first time someone saw Gideom as his own man and that also makes my heart ache so much. But I just can't stop thinking about how freaking Kremy Lecroux, went out of his way, to get a thing he likely never even thought of getting, just to give it to his partner (in crime). Like yeah sure we can talk about how Kremy wouldn't want to travel with someone unkept but I don't think it's that. He'd get Gideom a bath and a haircut or something at an inn and done, issue solved. But no, Kremy specifically wanted to get a thing for Gideon, he wanted him to have something that's just for him, something to help him get his sense of self back, his looks and help him find his confidence.

It was thoughtful gift from Kremy who probably is the last person to do thoughtful gifts to just some people. But he made that gesture for Gideon.

like do you ever just lay there and think about all that and how they both must have felt almost an instant bond forming between them, doesn't matter if it's platonic or romantic, like do you just-- yeah.

[plagues02]

Is There Room For Four?

Chapter One - Room for Two

Summary: Simon 'Ghost' Riley didn't need a soulmate. He was fine in the black and white and gray world he was stuck in. Then one by one his soulmates start crashing into his life, bringing a new color with them. Turns out Simon likes this new colorful world his soulmates have brought him into Characters: Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Gary 'Roach' Sanderson Ship: GhostRoach, End game SoapGhostRoachKönig Work Count: 2055 Note: This was written back in 2022 and was originally posted on Ao3 Chapters: One(You're Here), Two, Three, Four

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley worked alone. He always did. It’s been like this for a while now, but it wasn’t always like this. There was a time that he was Simon when he was a freshly turned eighteen-year-old. He stayed as Simon for a good while. Until it happened.

His family was killed, and he went after Roba, killing the man that had his family killed. He remembered seeing an old mask before he started the fire. The very same mask his brother would scare him with, and he grabbed it. Simon died that day. He died in the fire, and he became Ghost.

Ghost was a cold man who cared for nothing but the job, making him the ideal guy for solo jobs. However, fate was cruel, and fate had other plans.

When Ghost was told he would be teaming up with an American, he asked to see his folder. The American’s name was Gary Sanderson. Gary? What kind of name was Gary? His eyebrow raised, even more, when he read that his nickname was Roach. He took it back. Gary was normal. What kind of name was Roach?

During the first meeting, the Brit figured out why he got this kind of name. At least part of the reason. Gary was short, almost a foot shorter. Maybe not a full foot, but close enough. He was also quiet. From his file, he learned that Roach was selectively mute, and from meeting him, he learned he used ASL. Ghost was lucky to know a few signs to understand parts of what he was saying.

On the helicopter, Ghost looked over at the mission file. Roach watched out the window before looking over at the other man when he started speaking.

“There’s one building. A decent side warehouse. We’re looking for this man-” Roach took the paper from Ghost to look at the man. “-We’re to take him alive.”

The American nodded as he handed the paper back, feeling the helicopter get closer to the ground. They were about a twenty-minute walk away from the warehouse. The walk was quiet. It seemed to be how the two of them liked it.

Roach was a follower, noted Ghost. Always a few steps behind, never beside, never ahead. He was also aware of his surroundings, looking around and having his gun at the ready.

“Two routes,” Ghost stated when they got to the warehouse and took out the front guards. “You take left. I’ll go right.”

There were a few things that Roach noticed when meeting Ghost, and even from just looking at his file. He didn’t show his face, staying hidden behind a skull mask and sunglasses. Oh, those sunglasses looked stupid with that balaclava. The headphones didn’t help.

The American also noticed that the Brit was like him. A man of few words, Gary was just a man of fewer words. Only speaking about the mission, not that Roach minded. He wasn’t one for small talk.

Finally, he noticed how Ghost didn’t like eye contact, even with the sunglasses. Roach knew this because when he tried to look at his face, the other looked around. People with trauma around soulmates often do this so Roach assumed his world was as dull and gray as his own.

Before meeting one’s soulmate, their world would be shades of gray. Color would only splash into their life when their eyes met with the other half. Roach has met many people before. He has watched pure joy over people’s faces from meeting their soulmates, but he has also seen horror spread across their faces as well. It appeared Ghost would have been one of those so he refused to look. Avoiding eyesight was the only way to not meet your soulmate. Otherwise, fate would bring you together. Roach wanted to find his soulmate one day.

Now was not the time to be thinking about soulmates. The sound of gunshots from the other side of the building altered the guards that someone else was in the building but only on one side. The American took out as many as he could before he was also noticed, taking cover around a corner as he reloaded.

Thanks for the distraction Roach thought after finishing the final few guards on his side, taking the ammo off their body. He did change guns when he realized they didn’t have the ammo he needed.

Ghost nodded at Roach when they met up in the middle. The rest of the way to the final room was a straight shot. All the guards were up front, none in the middle, and very few in the room with the man. The American barely had to raise his gun before they were all down.

“Fucking hell,” the Brit said when the door behind them slammed open. The two took cover as about fifteen more armed men came into the room.

Roach found himself taking the time to aim for headshots at those who didn’t have helmets while Ghost just shot. They made a good team, and they both noticed during this time.

Fuck Gary thought at the sound of a car engine turning on and then the car speeding away. The other man’s body language said the same.

When they were sure the fifteen men were down, the two walked to each other again. The younger man could feel the stress coming off the other’s body, knowing they had two options. They would report their mission as a failure, or the mission would take a few extra steps to complete.

“We’ll get him next time,” signed Roach when Ghost finally looked at him. “And there will be a next time.”

Before the Brit could open his mouth to respond, Roach fell into his arms at the sound of a single gunfire. Ghost didn’t hesitate to pull out his handgun and shoot the culprit, one of the fifteen guards that used his coworker’s body to survive the original shootout.

“Bloody hell,” Ghost grumbled, pulling up the other’s shirt. He reached up to click his communicator. “Ghost 0-2, target got away. Roach is shot. Immediate evac requested.”

The response took a few seconds. “Heli can be there in ten minutes. They will land in front of the warehouse.”

Ghost looked back at the younger man, who was watching him with his brown eyes. Brown? Wait wait wait,,, brown?? His eyes went back down at the wound to see red on both Roach’s paling skin and his own gloved hand. Fuck.

He looked away to see his sunglasses were on the ground beside them. They had to have fallen off during all the confusion. He turned to look back, realizing that not everything was in color. His pants were still gray, and the American flag on Roach’s chest was still black and white. 

Ghost was glad his mask covered his face. It was a mix of surprise, fear, and his face was also beet red. He finally stood up, helping Roach to his feet after putting his sunglasses back on. He threw his arm over his shoulders.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he said in a small voice, moving Roach’s hand to the wound. “Keep pressure on this.”

Roach watched him for a while before nodding. He leaned against the taller man, looking around as they walked. Where were the colors? They were supposed to be blinked by colors. This was anything put. Only a few colors and shades fill their world.

The helicopter wasn’t long after they got outside. Ghost helped push Roach into the ‘copter before jumping in himself. Instead of across from each other like they did on the way here, he said next to the younger man.

“How bad is it?” A voice came over the speaker.

Ghost moved Roach’s hand to look at the wound again. “Right above his hip,” he responded. “Bullet is still in there.”

“It’s twenty minutes until we’re back at base. There’s a medkit above you. Use it,” the voice said again before the radio went off and the helicopter started going up.

Ghost reached up to grab the med kit, kneeling on the ground. He placed the kit on his previous seat. Roach pulled his goggles up, resting them on his helmet, with his free, non-bloodied hand.

It was clear that Ghost wasn’t used to giving medical care, but he knew enough to be helpful. While the bullet was still in him, the Brit cleaned around the open wound and wrapped it up tightly. He also handed a sanitizer wipe to the American to clean his hand off.

Gary watched the man sit down by him again, staring ahead. Silence fell over them once more. It was more comfortable than their last silence, the two understanding each other a little more than before. 

"Stop moving," Ghost only spoke after the third or fourth time that Roach shifted with a groan. "You'll hurt yourself more."

Roach froze, unsure how to react to the care. He looked out at the sky, relaxing more with another pained noise. Ghost's eyes followed him behind his sunglasses. He can't sit still, he thought, silently laughing. 

They made it back to base shortly after this. The landing pad was on the other side of base than medical. Another soldier tried to take Roach from Ghost, who quickly turned that down. No one questioned him as he started heading toward the building.

It was three days later when they got a chance to sit down to speak about what happened. Ghost sat next to the American, placing a piece of paper and a pencil down on the table in front of him. Roach raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know much sign language, not American at least,” Ghost explained. “I’m not forcing you to talk.”

Roach smiled behind his mask. They were both in casual clothing, but they also both kept their balaclavas on. Ghost wore the skull one while Roach preferred a plain black one.

“Now,,, we see colors,” Ghost started. “But not all colors. Strange, isn’t it?”

Without the sunglasses, Gary saw his eyes were gray. Were they gray? Or have they just a color they hadn’t unlocked yet. He knew his eyes were brown, same with his hair. He wondered what color Ghost’s was.

Gary leaned down to write. It’s weird. I asked the doctor about it and was told it’s possible there’s more of us.

The Brit raised an eyebrow. “More of us? Like we have more soulmates?” Gary nodded. “Fucking hell.”

Ghost rubbed his face with a sigh. He didn’t want one soulmate. He obviously didn’t want more than one. His stomach dropped when he looked back to see Roach’s response to his reaction.

Roach’s shoulders drooped down, and his eyes looked sad. When they met the other’s, he looked away. The older man frowned behind his mask. He liked the man’s eyes. They were,,,

“Beautiful.”

Gary looked back at him, squinting his eyes in confusion. He felt his face heat up when the other’s hand cupped his cheek.

“Your eyes are beautiful,” Ghost, no, Simon said.

They stared at each other for a while while Simon rubbed his thumb against his face. The hand slowly went down and stopped at the bottom of the balaclava. In response, Gary reached up and did the same thing. They stared at each other, asking a silent question. Simon nodded a little, moving his hand up again. The other copied, and they were maskless. 

Age showed on Simon around his eyes. They had very noticeable eye bags and were slightly wrinkled at the corners. Hair that curled at the ear, facial hair that wasn’t shaved. A few scars on his nose and cheeks. His skin had color, but his eyes and hair did not.

Gary still looked his age, a few years younger than Simon. His hair was shorter and looked clean-cut, like his facial hair. Beauty marks under both eyes. His face was more messed up than Simon’s. Scars on his cheek, nose, and one going from the corner of his lip to his cheekbone. There was almost a large one on his neck. His hair and eyes were colored along with his skin.

“...If they’re anything like you, I won’t mind them,” Simon said in a small voice. Gary smiled in response with a matching silent laugh.

[trashmakerarticle]

I think the best Timmy angst is during the time Jason was dead and Bruce an dick continuously mistake him for Jason at random times. It’s always, chum, sweetheart, my boy, little wing, jay, Jason, but never Tim. they say his name like Tim doesn’t even exist, like he wasn’t there, like he was Jason. He tells himself that they are grieving, that they’ll get better at remembering his name. give it time, they lost a son and a brother. But it hurts to know that he really is a replacement, only there to lessen the grief and resentment they have. And it hurts.

if y’all’s got fics with them calling Tim Jason I need it PLEASE I BEG

[pjs-everyday]

yep, lol who doesn't have a soft spot for ochako?? haha 💕

cheeky thief comic: part 1 // closeups // bakugo's shirt // part 2

[whats-she-gonna-post-next]

Red vs. Blue fanfics written and released between October 13th, 2013 (The episode with the heart wrenching "Freckles, shake") and June 23rd, 2014 (the episode where Tucker, Caboose, Grif, and Simmons find the rest of the group alive and well with the Feds) are top tier angst for Tuckington fans. We were in the trenches, 7 months with no content between the two, the genuine fear that Wash (and the others) were being tortured and possibly killed, Tucker busting his ass and learning how to be a leader and feeling like he's floundering because he doesn't think he can be as good as Wash was. The fics being written during that time just hit every time. If you are looking for good Tuckington angst, go to Ao3 and set the published dates to between October 13th, 2013 and June 23rd, 2014 and you will find gold, I promise you that.

[furiosophie]