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heartofwritiing · 4 months

Note

could you write wilbur soot confessing his love to a crush? 👉👈

something about how he's been pinning after this crush for so long, but the crush seems a bit avoidant or something

but that's because the crush also has a crush on him and is very very shy qpwimsmanssjslslek sorry im not good with requests

You and me need never be, lonely again.

Paring: cc!wilbur soot x fem!cc!reader

authors note: Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you don't mind the reader being a content creator and i’m sorry she’s not super shy because im not really sure how to write shy lol but i hope you like the request! I just thought it would add to the idea and I've wanted to do something similar to this for a while! This is a request back from august. I am so sorry this took me so long to get out. I've been going through some shit irl but I'm finally starting to come back to writing because I genuinely love it and posting on here since it is my safe space!

line from this prompt list

warnings: friends-lovers, reader lives in the US, brief description of anxiety, the reader sends mixed signals, swearing, kinda angsty, happy end, super unedited!

"No! That was such bullshit!"

The voice of Tommyinnit ran through the speakers of your computer causing you to let out a chuckle that you were the reason for his outburst.

You were playing Gang Beasts on stream with some of your closest friends, and you had grabbed Tommy's character and thrown him off the map by picking him up.

Laughter rang out amongst the group as the screen card popped up saying your username won. You cheered as everyone groaned but dispersed into 'ggs' then that's when everyone started to bid goodnight. You hadn't realized it had been four hours of streaming and playing games, showing the good time you were having with friends.

"Alright chat, that's gonna be it for me today! Please remember to click the follow button if you're new to stream that way you'll know when I go live! byeee!" You did your outro, quickly closed your stream down, and logged out of Twitch.

It was an uneventful stream session, thank god. You’ve noticed more and more how your chat gets when you even mention wilburs name.

“you logging off completely y/n/n?” Ranboos voices asks through your earbuds.

“No, I’ll play a few more rounds if you guys are down,” you respond.

“HELL YEAH!” Tommy boasted. “IM GONNA KICK YOUR ASS THIS TIME Y/N/N!”

“Oh, it’s on gremlin child!” you replied.

Wilbur listened to this conversation on his end, letting out a chuckle. He honestly doesn’t know why you make him laugh so easily. Anytime you threw a genius comment toward Tommy that was deemed insulting, or calling him a name Wilbur fell for you more and more. If only he had the guts to tell you.

You as well wouldn’t admit it but every time Wilbur laughed all you could feel was butterflies punching your stomach and a smile that made your cheeks hurt. You were also falling hard for him.

After about another fifteen minutes, Tommy and Ranboo had bid their goodbyes for the night and ended their calls. You were left in call with Wilbur, the silence could be cut with a knife.

Knowing him for two years was hard. Wilbur was everything to you. He was funny, smart, charming, and overall made you feel comfortable. Something you thought you’d never have with anyone. Having to only talk on call and video made things easier for you. On call you could hide your blushes and smiles from him, but not from your chat who caught every interaction between you and Wilbur when you streamed. The constant ’Wilbur x name confirmed?’ tweets and comments in your twitch chat were recently repetitive and you wondered when you became such a beacon of attention. It gave you such anxiety to have all eyes on you when you wanted to spend time with your best friend.

It was getting obnoxious to the point where you debated making a tweet to get the fans to stop shipping you both, even if you were dating it was no one’s business. Still you never dared to say anything out of fear of stans coming at you in anyway. You didn’t need to draw more unwanted attention to yourself.

“You logging off? it’s getting pretty late for you,” you spoke up.

“Yeah, we both should, by the way what times your flight tomorrow?”

Right, you were flying less than eight hours from now to finally meet your friends inperson. You all had planned this for months, booking hotels and flights, making a whole deal about it. Then you really wouldn’t be able to hide from him for a whole week.

“Around seven-thirty,” you reply.

He hums.

“I’ll let you get some rest, see you tomorrow night darling,” his voice purposely going lower on the ‘darling’ part that you almost didn’t catch it, making your knees go weak.

“N-night Will,” you stutter, end call and slump back into your desk chair trying to calm your racing heart. Meanwhile Wilbur all the way across the ocean in Brighton has a smile plastered across his lips.

About a plane ride, a train ride and car ride later, you are stood in the hotel lobby in Brighton waiting for a late Tommy and Wilbur to arrive. You were super nervous to meet them. Having only been friends for what was a short time, it felt like you knew them for years, so why was this so scary?

You debated in your mind about texting them to see if they were close by, but you didn’t want to come off as annoying and impatient. You wanted to make a good first impression, but again these were your friends. Why were you shaking with nerves?

You fiddled with your thumb’s absentmindedly until you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders, causing you to jump out of your skin. You spin around to be met with a cackling Tommy who is clucking his stomach from laughing so hard at your reaction.

“Fucking gremlin child,” you huffed under your breath, not realizing the evident blood rushing to your cheeks from being startled so easily.

“It’s nice to hear you say that in person,” a deep voice said from behind Tommy. You shifted your eyes to see a very tall Wilbur, who was wearing his round glasses pushed up his nose and curly hair fluffed to the side.

His dark sweater selves rolled up to revel his arms tucked into his side as he gazed at you with a soft smile. Finally after two years of being separated by seas, your best friend was standing right in front of you. It was surreal to say the least.

You laugh and jump forward to embrace him. The number of times you’d tease him over-call about his height made you regret your words. He towers over you as he bends down to your level to give you a long awaited hug. His arms are soft, yet firm as they wrap around your back and cage you into his embrace.

You both pull away, both grinning from ear to ear. He looks down at you with a hint of something behind his eyes, he seems to be genuinely happy to finally meet you in person. which makes you blush at the thought of him looking forward to this moment since you told him you wanted to come here. You're quickly brought out of your moment when Tommy speaks up behind you.

"So he gets a hug and I don't?!" his tone slightly offended.

"Yup, cause you're annoying," you bring a hand up to flick his forehead, causing him to let out a irritated noise. you had only just met him in person but something compelled you to do that. Maybe it was just a reason for you to break the ice and it was working because you all broke out into giggles.

“Im just kidding Tom,” you motion him into a hug.

Wilbur just stood observing the entire interaction between his two best friends. He was thrilled to finally have you here, he couldn't wait to show you all his favorite places, hang out, and get to know better in person. Finally.

The two boys had managed to drag you to the beach, and even though it was freezing Tommy insisted on going to the arcade to try and win another 'vlog gun'. After suffering through loosing a few games, Wilbur managed to win you a little stuffed cat that you promptly named Mr Whiskers.

It was endearing to watch him struggle at most of the games so he could get enough tickets. It was all worth it in his eyes to embarrass himself by losing ski-ball to you, twice, he saw the evident blush on your cheeks and the look you gave him. As if he hung the stars in the sky just for you. It made his chest hurt in a good way.

The rest of the night went smoothly for the most part. More and more, Wilbur had been getting more touchy with you. Though you didn’t mind it at all, maybe he didn’t realize how much he was putting his hand on you as you walked side by side as he led you through crowds. How he held doors open for you. It was sweet.

Maybe he was doing it just to be nice. That small voice in the back of your head telling you thats all it was. Because thats what friends do.

Eventually, the three of you met up with Ranboo and Charlie. They were just how they were online, which made meeting them a whole lot better. Walking around Brighton, making inside jokes and teasing each other. You hadn't been this happy in a while. You can remember the last time you genuinely enjoyed yourself, your friends were the product of that. You were fortunate to have found them when you did. Quarantine was hard on you, much like the rest of the world. So when you were invited to join a group game call, you couldn't pass up the opportunity. That night, something had clicked between you and Wilburt specifically. Then you started to join more calls with the gang and the rest was history.

Sometime in the night, you found yourself walking behind with Wilbur by your side chatting about nothing in particular. Until the comfortable silence filled the air between you, you took a moment to take in the nightlife of Brighton. The street lamps guide your way through the beachside and the pubs on the corner were starting to fill up. As if the city was somehow more alive at night.

"I'm really glad you came," Wilbur speaks, sincerely.

You stop your wide-eyed gaze to look at him and smile softly at him.

"I am too," You gush. "I'm honestly considering moving here,” Now he’s smiling.

Wilbur's brain starts to go a million miles a second. His heart leaped at the thought of you living closer to him. Seeing you in person everyday seemed like a dream come true. He begins to slow his step and a frown replaces your smile. Your own thoughts running rampant now, assuming you might've freaked him out by voicing that you wanted to move here so soon after meeting him in person. Maybe it made him uncomfortable. it was too soon to say something that bold. You had only just met him in person today.

"Listen, Y/N..."

You stopped and your brain got the best of you with his tone. You shouldn't have said anything like that to him. It was too soon.

“I don’t want to sound cheesy, but I need you to know how I feel.”

Oh... OH.

You knew what this was leading to. Realizing why he was acting the way he was all day.

"I like you, more than like you. You're funny, beautiful, smart, and everything I could've hoped for in a best friend. But I can't keep pretending I don't think of you when we aren't talking, or how when I look at you my chest hurts."

Wilbur liked you. Really liked you. You would jump for joy and shout to the rooftops about how much you reciprocate his feelings but something in the back of your mind told you not to. The doubt in your mind from yourself, both your fans online judging. It made you slowly start to panic. You felt as though you weren’t good enough for him.

You saw the aftermath of when his fans shipped him and Niki together. It almost ruined their friendship. You didn’t want that.

"Please say something?" he stops his rant to notice you are staring up at him with blank eyes.

"I-uh," you stutter. "can we maybe not do this now?"

His face falls and it instantly crushes you with regret. His disappointment shows as he gives you a forced smile and nods.

"Y-yeah, let's catch up with everyone, Tommy wants to do this big stream at his place." he gestures for you to move along with him, all while you feel horrible for doing this.

You wish you could take back what you said. You know you've hurt him, It's painfully obvious when he doesn't talk to you for the rest of the walk. You glance at him a few times but he keeps his eyes forward and stoic.

If only you didn’t let your anxiety get the best of you. You had to talk to him at some point, but for now you pushed it aside. The rest of the group didn’t seem to notice the sudden tension between the two of you, if they did nothing was remarked about it.

As you continued the journey to Tommys flat, you and Wilbur still walked silently side by side. With what little courage you had, you reached out your hand and held his in a moment of truce. Giving it a gentle squeeze with your fingers to seal the deal that you would talk later. You heard his soft inhale at the contact and he squeezes back. Your shoulders drop from the weight of tension being lifted off. Maybe, just maybe this ment this conversation wasn’t over.

Back at Tommy’s, the monitor in his cramped bedroom with everyone packed together like sardines; shows the twitch chat flashing by with viewers comments.

“WELCOME BACK TO THE STREAM EVERYONE!” Tommy shouted causing you to hold your ear in slight pain.

“God Tommy, could you be anymore loud?” you wince.

“Look who’s here chat!” he gestured to you with his hands, ignoring your complaints. You waved at the webcam as chat went crazy. He introduced everyone else as they all broke out into a chorus of conversation.

Wilbur was mostly quiet on your left, an occasional sarcastic comment made here and there. You could practically feel his eyes buring into the side of your head. Hopping chat wasn’t noticing how he was looking at you, your eyes shifting to your lap to fidget with your fingers.

Out of view, Wilbur reached over and took your hand picking at the skin around your nails. You had stopped your nervous tick and opted for squeezing his hand. Nobody seemed to notice the sudden shift in both your behavior.

Suddenly you felt tense, the feeling of having everyone’s eyes on you made your mind start to spiral.

Letting go of Wilburs hand, you quickly had excused yourself and walked out of Tommys room and into the kitchen.

Everyone had a mix of concerned and worried expressions as they watched you leave the room but didn’t say anything about it. Wilbur had followed you in pursuit. He found you in the kitchen hyperventilating Your panic had taken over and now your lungs were paying the price for the burning sensation from not breathing.

“it's okay,” he took your face into his hands and held you. “just follow my breaths.

he took a breath in, and you followed.

When you came to your senses, Wilbur had asked you what was wrong and you just began to cry. Everything came rushing down on you.

“Im sorry. I-Im sorry I shot you down earlier, Im sorry for h-hurting you. I-i,” you stuttered over yourself. Wilbur shakes his head at you. He probably thinks you’re such a mess.

“I don’t understand, I know you like me too, so I don’t understand why you rejected me after I poured my heart out to you. Then you go and hold my hand while we're walking.'

Wilbur was right. Playing with his feelings was selfish and cruel. He was completely in the right to question you. You were practically flirting with one another all day, and then you shut down his advances of trying to open your relationship.

“I do wanna be with you.” you sniff. “I'm just really scared.”

"Why darling? It's just me, your silly old Wil." he pokes at your sides causing you to let out a giggle. Your best friend, who looked at you with the prettiest chocolate eyes, who stayed on call with you all night when you couldn't sleep. The only person you told your deepest fears and dreams to.

You take a shaky inhale as you begin to explain. "I don't wanna ruin our friendship, we have something I've never experienced with anyone else in my life. I care about you too much to let me be a distraction in your life, and I am scared that the fans will-"

Wilbur interrupts you with a hand on your arm.

"The fans? darling who cares about that, I care way too much about you to even care about what strangers think. It's no one's business who I, or you for that matter have a relationship with." he clarified. "I love you and nothing or no one will ever change that."

Those three words made your heart leap in your throat.

"Y-you l-love me?" you stutter in disbelief.

"Yes, of course I do."

Tears roll down the apples of your cheeks as you lean forward to engulf Wilbur into another hug. His arms wrapped around your back reciprocating your embrace. your face buried in his neck as you inhale his cologne and your tears dampen his skin.

"I love you too Wil," you whisper.

He squeezes you closer to him in return and this time you don't hold yourself back...

taglist: @trashcanduck @ax-y10 @mysticalsoot @idontreallyexistyet @loonalvjy @toastyliltoasts41

#wilbur soot x reader #cc!wilbur soot x reader #fanfiction #mcyt fanfiction #wilbur soot x fem!reader #x reader #request #anon request #writing #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot fanafiction

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 months

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when y/n gathering scrap to meet quota and heard a noise and quickly turn around to see coil-head stop moving they slowly walking backward to try not get killed, after a long while they managed to escape from the coil-head. now y/n heard a rumor about a very familiar entity with a funny nickname peanut (its scp 178 if your curious) but it have very valuable information to know since its familiar to coil-heads when looking at the enemy will not move until your not looking at it

"Just be cool..it's all for the Company...all for the Company...."

Uttering that small mantra, you approached the large humming machinery, your eyes being set directly on the prize: a glowing yellow apparatus. The powercell of this entire facility.

It was worth a good fortune in the name of meeting quota, although it didn't come without its risks.

Like plunging you into total darkness and being stupidly heavy to lug back to the ship.

Unfortunately your crew sent you to retrieve it alone, as they were adding up how much the scrap piles were worth, buying stuff on the terminal, and looking out for eyeless dogs.

But for all you knew, they could be doing fuckall while you're risking life and limb every second you remained in this building.

Then again, that's just a normal day when working for the Company.

You kept your scanner going, cradling the giant apparatus close to your chest. It was your only source of light right now, as your flashlight was out of battery--and it made you look like a giant walking target for whatever monsters lurked here.

Speaking of which-

--New creature data sent to the terminal!--

"...what did I just scan?"

Stopping in your tracks for a brief moment, you took a look around the room, not seeing any sort of creature moving...

Only to suddenly hear loud footsteps rushing at you from behind, and in panic you swiftly turned around. The glow of the apparatus illuminated something humanoid that stopped short in front of you, allowing you to fully take in its horrifying appearance.

It was a creature that looked like a mannequin, with nails piercing its body, no forearms, and its head attached to a metal spring that bobbed as it stopped in-place. It had two hollow eyes and a broken mouth that made it incapable of expressions...yet you felt very afraid staring up at it.

"Shit..th-there's something here, guys.." You muttered into the walkie-talkie, praying somebody would pick up.

"We see it." One of your crewmembers' voice responded. "It's...a Coil-Head. Just got the data."

"Coil-Head? That's what they call these things?"

"If you wanna get specific, it's a Vir colli-"

"Whatever, not important. How much longer do I have until midnight?" You huffed.

"You got time. You're close to the exit!"

"Okay...well what do I do about this thing? I'm looking right at it."

"This is gonna sound weird, but just..keep doing that and head for the exit. But whatever you do, don't l-"

*krrrrrrrt*

"...one more time? I didn't catch that last part."

"........."

"Oh my god..you're kidding me, right?" Briefly glancing at your walkie-talkie, you realized the battery died and groaned, although the Coil-Head suddenly moved an inch closer, its head bobbing violently. "Woah--okay, okay..I'll keep looking at you, I guess....I don't want any problems."

It didn't answer, and simply stared.

"Christ..why does something like this exist at all?" You mumbled to yourself, keeping a tight hold on the apparatus as you slowly backed away, trying to keep your ears and scanner open for anything that might creep up behind you.

God forbid it was another landmine, spider web, or Bracken.

This was genuinely terrifying, especially knowing you were wandering through a near pitch-black facility with this mechanical creature following you every time you had to break line of sight.

Now that you've lost all communication with your crew, the only way they could tell if you're alive was on the monitors. You didn't even know what time it was. All you could do was pray to whatever god was out there in this vast universe that you'd get back to the ship before they decided to take off without you.

Surely, they wouldn't abandon one of their own..

Then again, you were all told to do "whatever it takes" to survive long enough to meet the next quota.

Even if it meant ditching and killing each other, or leaving the moon's atmosphere before midnight to keep tabs on whatever scrap was salvaged for the day.

But regardless, you had to survive..and so you did your best to maneuver around the facility with the Coil-Head in your sights at all times.

Its mannerisms did remind you of some other creature you have researched from a different and not-so-ethical company. Although right now, you're not too focused on that.

Not dying was more important.

........

"You made it!!"

"Yeah, no shit..my arms are killing me.." Dropping the apparatus unceremoniously on the ship floor, you looked at your fellow crewmates--two of whom were arguing about which moon to route the ship to next, while only one acknowledged your close call with the Coil-Head.

At least somebody cares.

But now that you've had time to calm down, you remembered what you wanted to do once you returned here safely.

"Y'know, that Coil-Head reminds me of this one creature I've read about back on Earth..its mannerisms are similar." You hummed, before heading to the terminal, irritated by the arguing duo. "Move. I need to look up something."

"Oh thank god." One of the employees huffed, shaking her head. "Please jump on the terminal before this dumbass routes us to Titan and blows all our money."

"Why are you being so stingy?! We can afford it!"

"We can't afford dying just because you wanna go to the deadliest moon! You think it's gonna be like Experimentation? A cakewalk??"

"No but it sure as hell's gonna give us better loot! We may have an apparatus but it's not gonna sustain us!"

"...can you guys take this conversation elsewhere? I'm going in." You squeezed between the pair and managed to get your hands on the keyboard, pulling up the internet (with speed that sucked since the Company tended to be cheap like that).

Curious, they stopped their squabbling and looked to what you were typing, bringing up a data profile for a creature called-

"SCP-173?"

"Yep. Or as they call it, the Statue..but I like its nickname "Peanut" a little better." You chuckled as you read its containment summary and description. ""The object cannot move while within a direct line of sight...object is reported to attack by snapping the neck at the base of the skull"...yep....the vibes are similar. Interesting"

"I thought snapping necks was the Bracken's job." One crewmember joked. "You're telling me that Coil-Heads and this Peanut might be cousins?"

"Maybe whoever designed them took some inspiration...though I wonder how it could snap someone's neck if it doesn't have any hands.."

"I kinda wanna see that happen. Any volunteers?" The Titan-obsessed employee laughed, but the dead silence and blank stares they received from all three of you caused them to tense up. "...I-I was only kidding...jeez.."

"If we run into another Coil-Head, we're leaving you behind to stare at it."

"Wha----are you really that mad that I suggested going to Titan???" They snapped.

"Since you're acting like a total nincompoop who should know we don't have the proper equipment yet...yes." You answered flatly, to which they groaned in annoyance.

"You're all jerks...I wish I had a new crew."

"In space, no one can hear you whine. Now let's go to March. We still got one day left to make some extra bucks, okay?"

"Fiiiiine, "Captain". Whatever you say."

#clanask #lethal company x reader #lc x reader #coilhead #coil head

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nctsworld · 9 months

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Your latest fic was so cute and funny. Deadass left me want to have more of it. Like, did the date go successfully? What other tricks our mischievous Gemini had up his sleeves? Seriously, short but so good.

thank you so much for reading at your earliest convenience! i won't be writing a continuation, but here's how it goes down:

reader is furious, and in retaliation, truly wants to set the bar high for the date

date activities requested: go to the movie theatre (and you tell hyuck he better be ready to buy every single snack and drink available), dinner at the most expensive restaurant in town (this shouldn't be surprising), then overpriced ice cream in the same area as the restaurant

but of course! hyuck turns it around and takes it a step up

he rents out an entire theatre to watch the movie, on top of clearing out the snack and drink section (hyuck is grateful for his friend, renjun, who is the manager of the theatre)

there's a moment when the back of your hands brush as you reach for the popcorn, but you deny your anxiety (and the obvious tension). obviously, it's only because you're the only two in this entire theatre.

afterwards, he doesn't drive you to the restaurant, but to the pier instead.

"i'm not even kidding—are you going to kill me and dump my body here?"

"i feel like if that was going to happen, you'd be doing that to me."

"then why aren't we at the restaurant?"

your brain clicks when you see it: the small cruise ship.

"you never said i couldn't bring the restaurant to you."

he isn't kidding, because he pulled strings to have one of the sous chefs from the restaurant to work tonight on his day off (you catch that his name is jaemin and that he owes hyuck a huge favour—okay, seriously? is this guy friends with everyone in town?)

and it's utterly romantic. only the two of you, besides some help and the chef.

candles light everywhere. wine and champagne, both readily available. the food is to die for.

you're warm. not from the alcohol and food. not from all the candles. not from all the smiling, laughing, and the truly, genuine good time you're having. something is blooming.

as the sun falls, especially by sea side, it becomes chillier. he offers his black bomber jacket and you accept, placing it around your shoulders.

when you finish dinner, you didn't expect to have a small cart roll up to you with several ice cream options.

"okay, i couldn't get the same brands from that store, but jaemin recommended these and they were pretty expensive."

following that, you catch yourself getting lost in his goofy smile, and after a beat, he laughs awkwardly.

"you okay? you're looking at me kind of funny."

shaking your head, you play into it. "because you do look funny."

the night ends perfectly. he drives you home, like the gentleman he is, and walks you to your door.

"i hate to say it, but i really had a good night."

"told ya."

god, that smirk.

"you're looking at me funny again," he says, but the expression on his face makes you think he knows something you don't.

you don't even compute the moment he leans in, cups your cheeks, and pulls you in for a sweet, deep kiss

the kind where it happens, you take a one-second breather, and then you dive right back into it

both of you, after making out for some time, realize you should probably stop as everyone can see.

"i'll text you later, yeah?" he says, drawing back.

you simply nod, mesmerized by him. his lips. his everything.

"for our next date, by the way," he whisper-shouts, walking backwards. "i'm calling the shots and it'll be a simple one."

"who says there'll be a second date?" you ask cheekily.

"oh yeah?" he raises an eyebrow.

you embrace for another few more minutes until a dog barks, breaking your bubble.

and hyuck ends off with a kiss on your cheek and a soft good night whispered into your ear.

#fullsunsets #cee.q&a #yn brainrot #haechan fluff #haechan imagines #haechan scenarios #haechan fanfic #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #omg i wrote way more than i thought i would but there ya go!!! HAHA

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mccn-bcys · 2 years

Text

Hold My Hand

paring: din djarin x reader

summary: an accident happens when you went to the market alone. Din just wants to make sure you’re okay and insists he goes with you once you’re healed up to keep it from happening again.

warnings: angsty in one part, but overall full of fluff, Din and reader deny their feelings until they can’t anymore, mentions of blood, mention of injury

author’s note: this is my first din story so I really hope you guys like it because I really enjoyed writing it! Let me know if I made any mistakes and definitely let me know if you want some more! make sure to like, comment, and reblog!

word count: 3,320

“Haar’chak!” Din cursed loudly as he saw you walking - staggering was more like it - back to the ship. He knew he shouldn’t have let you go alone. He ran out of the ship and quickly ran up to you to catch you as you looked like you were about to crumble to the ground. He threw his arm around you so you could lean on him for support.

“What the hell happened? I thought you were just going to the market!” He demanded. He didn’t exactly mean to to sound so demanding. He was just worried - scared.

He had wanted to go with you, but you had insisted he stay with the ship. You had said you just needed to get a few supplies and told him he should stay on the Crest, hang out with the Child or take a nap. He wouldn’t have been able to nap if he had wanted to, worried that something would’ve happened to you. And his fear came true.

Here you were hobbling back to the ship, covered in blood, cuts, and -

“Is that a blaster shot?!” He asked as he got you back on the ship and sat you down, examining the bloody spot on your side.

“Relax, Din, I’m fine, really,” you said softly, trying to catch your breath and hide any trace of pain that might be evident in your voice.

The truth was: you weren’t fine. Far from it in fact. You were in so much pain. But you didn’t want to worry your Mandalorian. He would get so worried over the smallest things when it came to you - or the kid. So worried that he would go with you everywhere. And the one time he wasn’t with you...

“No you’re not fine, cyar’ika,” he said as he cupped your cheek with his gloved hand, making you look at him. “I’m going to get the med kit, don’t move.”

He got up and moved to grab the small med kit you had used so many times on him to patch him up when he came home beaten up. Now it was your turn, you supposed.

“Din, you really don’t have to do this. I’ll be okay-” you started but you were cut off by yourself as you let out a gasp of pain when you tried to stand.

“I told you to stay sitting,” he said as he hurried back, helping you sit back down gently. “Besides, I don’t mind it. You always take care of me, let me return the favor,” He said, looing you in the eyes. Even through his helmet you could feel the intensity of his gaze and knew better than to fight him on this. You wouldn’t win. So you gently nodded and let him start cleaning your wounds. “Now, tell me how all of this happened.”

“Well, as I said, I had gone to the market to grab some supplies,” you started explaining as he gently cleaned the small cuts on your face. “As I was leaving a shop, I hadn’t realized a couple locals had started a fight in the street, and guess who had walked right into it?” You chuckled lightly, trying to cut the tension a bit. Din didn’t think it was funny. “Anyways, one of them pulled a blaster and shot right as I walked between them, accidentally hitting me. They didn’t take too kindly to my interruption so, they pushed me out of the way and right into the booth of a glass maker. Just my luck, right?”

“How in Maker’s name did you not see the fight going on?” He asked as he sprayed some bacta spray on the cuts on your face before looking down the the blaster would on your side, silently asking permission to lift you tunic slightly to better inspect it, and you have a slight nod.

He silently thanked Maker for his helmet because otherwise you would’ve seen the heat rush to his cheeks as he pushed your tunic up. Had you not been in so much pain, you probably would’ve been blushing too. This was an intimate moment and you couldn’t even relish in it because of that damn fight. Then again, you wouldn’t be here if not for the fight.

“I was looking at this little cloak I got for the kid, something to keep him warm when we go somewhere cold,” you admitted almost bashfully.

Din adored how much you cared for the kid. You had started caring for him like he was your own and it warmed his heart. It was the reason Din had asked you to join them on the Razor Crest. The Child had taken a liking to you when he was visiting your planet and you seemed to have fallen in love with the kid, and so before Din could stop himself, he had offered to pay you to join them and watch the kid when he was out on jobs.

Of course you had accepted, and after a while you had started turning down your payments much to Din’s confusion. You had said that as long as you got to stay with the kid, have a rood over your head, food to eat, and Din coming home safely, that was all the payment you needed.

Din came to realize later that that was possibly the moment he realized he loved you. Seeing how much you cared for him and the kid, it was hard not to fall for you. Of course, he never told you of these feelings, sure that you didn’t feel the same.

He let out one of his signature sighs. “Well, I’m sure the kid will appreciate it,” he said softly before turning his attention back to wound and starting to clean it. You hummed softly as you watched him work.

He was so gentle with you. Like he was scared he was going to break you, despite being pretty beaten up. It was one of your favorite things about him; how gentle he was with you and the kid. He never raised his voice at you, always looked out for you, made sure you had everything you needed and more. You had never seen his face but you were going to guess that he was just as beautiful as his spirit was.

Little did he know, you had fallen in love with him as well. The feelings had snuck up on you out of no where while you were watching him play with the kid. His armor and helmet and intimidating persona were all just for show. Only you got to see the true Mandalorian. The true Din.

A shock of pain ripped through you, breaking you from your thoughts as you let out a cry of pain, causing Din to panic, worried he had done something wrong.

“I think there’s some broken glass in there,” you said, trying to breath through the pain that just increased at the discovery. He must’ve accidentally touched it as he tried cleaning. He looked back at the wound and saw that you were right.

“It’s a pretty big piece. I’ll have to pull it out before I can put the bacta spray on it,” he said, looking back at you. You had gotten pretty good at reading him through the helmet. He was asking permission to pull out the glass, both of you knowing it was gonna hurt like a bitch. You sucked in a big breath and quickly nodded, ready for it to be over.

He gave a single nod of his head and moved to pull out the glass, wincing at the way you cried out in pain. He hoped he’d never have to hear it again after this.

“Stop! Stop!” You suddenly cried, making him stop his movements quickly as he looked back at you. “I can’t- can’t we just leave it?” You asked, hoping there was an easier way, a less painful way to heal this wound.

Din tilted his head as he looked at you softly, wishing he could take away your pain. He brought his bare hand up- when did he talk off his gloves - and wiped your tears away. “Oh, cyar’ika,” he said softly. “we have to take the glass out or it will get infected,” he gently broke the news to you, causing you to groan. “You’re going to be fine, you can do this,” he assured you gently.

“No, Din, I can’t do this,” you shook your head, wanting to find another way. He continued to hold you face and turned your head to make you look at him. The gentle way he held you somehow making your breathing calm down.

“Yes you can,” he said, taking one of his hands and holding it out in front of you, offering it to you. “Hold my hand. You’re going to be fine,” his soft voice giving you the assurance you needed, telling you that he was here for you and would be here with you.

You nodded faintly, reaching a hand out to hold his. You both had to keep yourselves from reacting to the feeling of his rough calloused hand holding your soft one. You softly looked him in the eye and gave a soft nod, letting him know that he could continue. He gave your hand a gentle reassuring squeeze before using his other hand to try and remove the glass.

You squeezed his hand hard as you started screaming from the pain. You were squeezing hard enough that it felt like you might break it. Though Din didn’t care, all he cared about was healing you. Din decided at that moment that he would never let anything bad ever happen to you again. Because he hated when you were in pain. It broke his heart with every cry you made.

After what felt like hours, the piece of glass was finally out, leaving you to be able to breath again, to calm down. Din immediately put down the piece of glass and brought both of his hands back to the side of your face. You silently decided that you loved the feeling of his hands cupping your face. It felt like home.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” he lightly chuckled, causing you to let out a soft, breathless chuckle of your own. “I knew you could do it, cyar’ika. You’re so strong,” he whispered as he looked at you softly.

His words caused your cheeks to burn as you tried to look away from him to hide it. But he wasn’t having that. He brought your face close to his helmet, your breathing picking up as your heart started beating so loud you could swear he could hear it. You let him rest your forehead against his cool beskar helmet. You didn’t quite know exactly what the gesture meant, but you knew it was a very intimate gesture, feeling his intense gaze through the T shaped visor of his helmet.

He held you like that for a few moments. He watched as you closed your eyes, relaxing under his touch and against the metal that separated your faces. If only you knew how special this moment was for him. How much it meant that you seemed at peace in this moment instead of pushing him away. “You’re okay now,” he said gently to you, but mostly to himself.

Finally, he pulled away and lightly cleared his throat. Turning back to the med kit, he grabbed the bacta spray and sprayed it on the wound and gently wrapped it in gauze, all while you tried to slow down your heartbeat and clear the heat from creeping up your cheeks again. When he was finished, he slowly stood, and offered you his hand to help you stand. “Now you need to rest and let that heal,” he said as you took his hand and stood up.

He was suddenly shy, it seemed. For reasons that were lost on you. Surely not after that moment the two of you shared, you thought.

You wanted to fight him on the matter, tell him you were fine. But you knew that was a fight you’d lose. So you quietly listened and let him take care of you. He gently led you to your sleeping quarters and helped you lay down before leaving you alone with you thoughts as you laid down and drifted off to sleep, your body exhausted.

He, however, headed back to the cockpit. He threw himself into his seat and put his head in his hands, trying to calm his racing heart. His heart had been through so much in the past few minutes. From fear, to love, to soft. He was feeling a whirlwind of emotions. However, after a minute, he felt a pair of eyes on him, and he slowly turned to look over at the seat to his right, where he found a pair of inky blacks eyes watching him, glancing from where he had come from and then back to him.

“Oh no, absolutely not. Not right now at least. Maybe some other time,” he told the Child, knowing exactly what he had been thinking. Instead he tried to redirect his thoughts from you - which was proving to be harder everyday - and picked up the kid. “Why don’t we get you something to eat.”

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

You heard the clearing of a throat that stopped you dead in your tracks.

Damn it, you thought as you slowly turned around a big innocent grin on your face.

“And just where do you think you’re going, cyar’ika?” The Mandalorian stood at the top of the boarding ramp, his arms crossed sternly across his chest.

It had been 2 weeks since you had been injured and he had been watching over you like a convor. Not letting you out of his sights unless you needed to use the ‘fresher. It was sweet and endearing how he cared for you, making sure you were never uncomfortable or hurting as your body healed. It did aggravate you at times, insisting that you could do things on your own, but he still hovered a bit. After a while you just let him do it, to help him feel better. He even still had the habit of doing it even now that you were completely healed.

So here you were. You had thought he had laid down for a nap with the kid, so you took the opportunity to sneak out and go back to the market. Apparently that plan had been spoiled.

“...back out to the market?” You said, though it came out like a question as you became bashful that he had caught you sneaking out.

“Without us?” He asked, gesturing between him and the Child who was looking at you curiously.

“I thought you guys were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you,” you answered truthfully. I also wanted a moment without you worrying about what step I made.

“You could’ve woke us. We don’t mind going with you,” he insisted as he walked down the ramp to meet you.

“But you don’t have to go with me, you know,” you said, causing his head to tilt a little. “I would be fine on my own.”

He let out a single laugh, as if in disbelief. “Yeah, like last time?” He said, throwing the event in your face. Almost like it had been your fault. Your eyebrows furrowed as you got defensive.

“Hey, I know better this time. I’ll be sure to watch where I’m going and what’s going on around me,” you declared. You weren’t just some kid, you learned from your mistakes.

“You’ll watch where your going because I’ll be there to make sure you don’t get into any trouble,” he brushed past you. Why was he pushing so hard about this?

“I’m not a kid, Din. You don’t have to hover over me like I might take the wrong breath!” He stopped walking and turned around to face you.

“I know you’re not a kid. But I’m going to go and make sure you stay out of trouble,” he fought back.

“Why? Do you not trust me?” You asked.

Of course, he trusted you. He trusted you more than anyone in the galaxy.

“Then why won’t you let me do this on my own?” You demanded.

“Because I can’t lose you!” He all but yelled back at you. Suddenly, it felt like everything around him fell quiet. Your face changed to a look of shock. Well that confession was out in the open now. No taking it back now.

“Din-”

“I can’t lose you. I couldn’t stand it when you were hurt, and I don’t want to see you like that again. I just want to protect you, to keep you safe,” He continued softly, stepping closer to you until you were just inches apart.

“Why?” you asked simply, looking down at the ground. You had a hard time with how intensely he was looking at you as he spoke.

“You mean more to me than you know.”

Oh.

While you were looking at the ground, he sighed and made up his mind. If you didn’t believe his words, he would just show you what you mean to him. You heard the hiss of air and looked up at him to see what was happening only to gasp and look away once you realized what he was doing.

“Din, what are you-”

“You can look, cyar’ika,” he said softly.

Still you refused. Only children and partners could see him without his helmet. Did that mean-

“Are you sure?” You asked after a moment, so many meanings wrapped into that question.

“Yes,” with that small word, he answered every question.

Oh.

And so you turned around slowly, heart beating wildly as you were finally able to drink him in. This. This was the true Din.

Your Din.

From his dark unruly curls, to his dark eyes, to his aquiline nose, to the stubble on his jaw. He was perfect. And now he was yours. Removing his helmet told you that much.

You didn’t even know you had been crying until he started wiping your tears. You were so overwhelmed with emotion.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same. But you need to know how I feel,” he whispered and you answered in the only way that felt appropriate to you.

You stood on your toes and crashed your lips on his, hoping to translate all the words you didn’t know how to say in to that kiss. He was shocked at first, not prepared for that response, but it wasn’t long before he was kissing you back with just as much passion. Both of you telling each other so much without uttering a word. You wanted to stay like that forever. And probably would have if not for the small coo the Child made as he watched you two.

You both pulled away from each other, catching your breath and you both chuckled looking down at the little green child. You picked him up and gave a kiss to his head. He looked between you and Din expectantly.

“Yeah, kid,” Din simply said, causing the child to erupt into happy cheers, which in turn caused you and Din to look at each other and laugh.

“I guess he’s been wanting that to happen just as much as we did,” you smiled at Din as he picked up his helmet and put it back on.

“I suppose so.”

“Alright...who wants to go to the market?” You asked, laughing as the kid cheered again.

And so you all walked into town together, you and Din holding hands while you carried the child around from booth to booth. You were now feeling better than you had in weeks. And Din? He was feeling like he was the luckiest person in the entire galaxy.

#din djarin #din dijarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #din and grogu #din x reader

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plagues02 · 2 months

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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?"

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dearsnow · 1 year

Text

SALT FARE, NORTH SEA

- when a dragon falls from the sky, decimating your ship and bringing a strange boy along for the ride, you begin to question if the some of the targaryens are really as bad as they seem. (aged up!lucerys velaryon x fem!reader, angst to fluff, ur burning hatred is quenched by time spent on the sea 🤞) MAJOR SPOILERS FOR HOUSE OF THE DRAGON! au where vhagar doesn’t kill luke, arrax just gets absolutely mauled and falls out of the sky. aged up luke because I didn’t realize he was that young when i started writing 💀. ⚠️ TW for death, suicidal thoughts, and trauma.

word count: 4,213 (jesus christ)

a/n - ohhhh my god guys i’m back!!!! this was certainly a labor of love. i don’t know if I’ll start writing consistently again, but i really hope i do. i love you guys so much and thank you for the continued support even when i’m on hiatus! also i’m sorry if luke is ooc because i choose to believe he’s quietly funny and a little bit of a menace 😭

As the waves batter the sides of your ship, you don’t feel seasick. You feel the spray, see the occasional silvery fish zip by under the water. The sun beats down on your exposed neck and the motion swirls your mind, but you are sick for an entirely different reason.

Betrothal. God, you hate how that word sits on your tongue like a hot piece of meat. You are to be sent off to the their of family, married into their lineage and forced to bear their children until your womb shrivels like a sun-dried date. Of all of your options, the Targaryens are certainly the worst.

Aemond, in particular. You’ve heard stories of his cold demeanor, how he could kill you with a look. With his hands, too. He is quite the skilled swordsman, not that you would ever wish to witness it. He is the one you are set to marry.

Oh, the misery. The horror. You can feel bile rising in your throat whenever someone mentions him or his mother, great Queen Alicent.

You figure, though, at least it isn’t his brother.

You come from a noble family. It was bound to happen anyways. Trade your Martell name for some haughty lord’s and become his sow for the rest of your life. Your short, miserable life. In some ways, you are a bit grateful. You will never want for food and you know you’ll bring great honor to your family by marrying into the Targaryens.

You just wish you could marry for another reason, not just forging alliances and heating up old, cold ones. You could have a happy life with the person of your choosing. You could sell fish on the shores of the sea and pick flowers in a field.

You play with this notion in your head before you hear a mighty crash and the sound of splintering wood.

The screams come mere seconds later. They pierce the air as snapping bones and rending flesh ring out. You stumble back, nearly falling off the edge of the ship. Large chunks of meat have started raining from the sky, crushing everything in their path.

You feel your heart beat so fast it nearly leaps out of your chest as you scramble for friction. Fuck, what the hell?

With the meat there comes blood, great amounts of it. It trips the sailors up, sending them careening over the wooden edges and into the sea.

You narrowly miss the giant dragon wing that splits the boat in two. The entire thing has started sinking, and your blood runs cold.

The ship is tilted from the massive gash in the center. Water is mixing with blood, and your dress is soaked to the bone. You can’t help but think that the finest silks Dorne can offer will drag you to the bottom of the depths.

As you clamber to the top of the ship’s bow as another fast-moving figure falls into the water. You don’t notice it in the moment.

A shove comes from behind, pushing you to the side. Your back aches where you were struck.

“M’lady, m'lady! The lifeboat, you must take the boat. Go, go! Right now, m'lady.”

It’s Finhard, the deck swabber. He has two missing fingers, a lame knee, and a million stories. He swabbed the deck of The Sandstorm from port to port, collecting any and all information he could along the way. You loved talking to him so much it made the trip almost worth it. He always helped you sneak food to the cat stowing away on board. The cat you’re sure is now dead.

“What about you?” You question, voice loud but shaky. You can’t just leave him here.

“I’m a dead man, m’lady. I don’t matter.”

“But you do!” You insist, tugging on his arm. The screams are still ringing like alarms, and your limbs feel locked and like jelly at the same time.

“No, no. I might sink it. Girl’s damaged already. Please go, girlie. Jus’ remember me when you eat your next fish, alright?”

A pit pools in your stomach as you whip around to look at the small lifeboat. He’s right. The boat wouldn’t be able to hold you and a grown man, at least not one of Finhard’s size.

“Get on. I’ll push ya off, and you better have a damn good time with that prince of yours.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes as you watch your trusted confidant steel his gaze.

“I’m sorry, Finhard. I’m so so sorry,” You sob, clutching his rough palms. “I promise I’ll think of you always.”

“Thas’ all I ask for.” His voice is rough and uncut, hardened yet soft, like a feather made of chainmail. He picks you up like a sack of potatoes and places you in the rickety boat with the gentleness of a father setting down his newborn. He gives you one final kiss on the forehead before untying the boat and shoving it into the roiling water.

Small hairs cling to your forehead as the ship lights up in a blaze sure to be seen from the shore. Your face is so wet with tears you feel as though the ocean is the product of them.

You sob into your hands as the people who took care of you on your journey sink, their bawls leaving a scar in your memory.

It’s not even ten minutes after the foremast begins to sink that you see a dark shape bobbing along in the water next to you. You stifle a gasp, thinking it must surely be a shark or a dead man. The water around it was red and heavy.

When it floats closer to you, you see for the first time that it’s a boy. A boy who must be around your age, maybe sixteen or seventeen. His wrist gives a little twitch, and you resolve that you must rescue him.

He wasn’t on your ship unless he was stowing away in the barrels, as teenagers often do. No matter his situation, you grab his soaked shirt and give a hard tug.

The effort almost tips your boat, nearly sending you spiraling into the water. You give a little huff. The waterlogged boy is definitely heavier than you expected.

You try again, managing to get his arm hooked around the side of the boat. From there, it’s just a game of strength- you pull him up, using his clothing as a sort of lever to shimmy him out of the water. You roll him over, the water streaming off of him re-splattering your already wet clothes with water and fresh blood. The boat dips a little with his weight, but it does not sink. You praise the Seven under your breath. He has a cut on the side of his head, one that requires medical care far past the simple fixes you’ve learned.

You try to dress it anyways. Ripping a long strip of cloth from the bottom of your underskirt, you wrap it up and pray he doesn’t lose much more blood.

You can still hear the creaking of The Sandstorm, though any humans were sucked under long ago. It makes a melancholy sound, blending with the waves and the seabirds and the rain that has started pattering down. A lump forms in your throat as you gaze at the wreckage. Hot water slides down your face as you sit in your little lifeboat, waiting for death that will most certainly come for your throat.

It’s about two hours of lonely drifting before the boy wakes up. He opens his eyes slowly, then they widen as he gives a gurgling shout.

“Augh!” You stifle a giggle, though your voice is still wobbly from sobs.

He notices you and sits up, bewildered. As he takes in his surroundings, you sit and watch.

“Who are you? Where am I? Where is Arrax?”

“I am nobody now, and we are in the middle of the ocean,” You gesture to the water surrounding every inch of your sight. “And I don’t know who Arrax is.” He sure has a lot of questions, though you can’t fault him for it.

“Arrax, my dragon. I… I think he’s…” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

You stare at him in shock.

“Your dragon? The dragon that fell out of the sky in twenty pieces?” You question, voice heated. “The one that just killed a crew of fifty-two men?”

He’s silent for a moment. “So he’s dead?”

“Of course he’s dead, you imbecile! Did you not hear what I just said? He killed them. All of them. I’m the only survivor.”

“I’m sorry.” He mutters. He brings his knees to his chest and hugs them. “It was never my fault. It was him that killed Arrax, so it is him that killed your crew.”

“Who is him?”

“That bastard of a prince, Aemond. He and his dragon, Vhagar, chased us across the skies and attacked us in the air.”

Your hands tighten into fists as your throat constricts like you swallowed a spiny rock. You regret ever saving the boy, and you regret not slitting your throat when you heard of your betrothal to the murderer. Everything you’ve heard about Aemond is true. Your rage boils into hatred, and you swear that if you ever see him you will die and take him with you.

“So that must mean you’re a Targaryen too?” You say, trying to keep your voice level. It’s a skill you had to learn as a noble lady, but the hate building in your chest is almost too violent to quiet.

“Lucerys Velaryon, my lady.” He eyes you, taking note of your expensive yet ruined dress. He must know you’re not a commoner either.

You know the Targaryens are the only ones with proper access to a dragon, but you should have known that only someone descended from one could cause such absolute and utter destruction. It’s not Lucerys’s fault, you tell yourself. Don’t put the blame on him. Put on a smile and become your best even-tempered and kind self. But gods, the way you want to wring his neck for an event he seemingly had no control over.

“Why did he do it?” You ask. The tears from earlier start creating a pressure behind your eyes again.

“Because I took his eye.” Lucerys’s voice is weak, but it has the strum of nobility that you know like a well-oiled harp. “He wanted revenge, an eye for an eye. So I ran. He found me in the sky and bit my dragon in half. I never meant to kill anybody.” So they’re all the same, the princes. Hardened and cruel and psychopaths. “Did you save me?”

“I suppose I did.” You want so badly to say ‘but I shouldn’t have’, but you hold your tongue.

“That is a debt I can never repay. Thank you. I’m truly sorry.” You shake your head. It’s not his fault, you repeat. You still cannot find it in yourself to forgive him. “What’s your name?”

You think for a brief moment. It wouldn’t hurt, you think, to tell him your name. That way when you both die, at least the man you’re stuck with will know the name of the woman that hated his family the most out of anyone in the world.

You speak your name, including your Martell family name, and he looks at you, eyes widened so much you think they will pop out of his skull.

“Aemond’s betrothed?” You are marrying into the greens, and Lucerys feels as though he should hate you for it. Unluckily for his honor, he cannot despise the girl who pulled him from the sea.

“Yes, what sorry luck.” You spit. “I would rather drown than go through with it.” You think of the promise you made to Finhard. “No, I would put poison in his chalice and watch him drink it.”

He laughs a bit, his voice ringing out against the repetitive sound of waves. “And I will buy the poison.” You allow yourself to smile. You hate it, but you smile.

You’ve always been the weirder daughter, yet the one that tries to talk with the lords and ladies and puts on a shining performance. That’s where the smile comes from, from all the times you’ve had to put your pearly whites on display. The morals have gone to shit, but the reflex is still burned into your person.

“You needn’t call me ‘my lord’. We’re even here, out on the sea.” He says. You can feel that’s not the only reason. A spark of guilt shimmers in the corners of his eyes. “Just call me Luke.”

“And you may call me by my name, Luke.” He’s right. There are no titles, only salt water and spray.

You watch the moon in the sky as it shines its beams down on your face. It sees everything. Every deal in secret, every promise you’ve ever made. It’s a gentle reminder that every person sees the same thing every night. You and Luke sit in silence, staring up at it. You wonder if your mother sees it too, from her ship. Can Finhard and the other sailors see it, from their watery graves? Can they forgive you for not saving them? For saving the life of a boy, whose mass is just under the weight limit of the boat? You glance over at him.

He’s staring at you, at how the soft rays of the moon highlight the curves and edges of your face. He feels a pit in his stomach, one that is not from hunger. It’s a gnawing feeling, guilt. He hates that he had to trade his life for fifty sailors. He thinks he would rather be at the bottom of the sea than see more tear tracks on your face. Another feeling eats at him, though he’s not sure what it is. It makes his insides churn and scrambles his mind.

He averts his eyes and looks at the stars once more.

You spend another two days floating in the water. You’re both sunburned and salt dried, and his skin is red and peeling. The conversation between the both of you had been dry up until today.

“May I have the flask?” He asks. You hand it over. For two whole days, all you have had to eat and drink is two flasks of water, a packet of dried fish, and some bread that has gone mushy from the water slowly seeping into your boat. You have to bail it out every hour or so.

“Do you think we’ll ever get out of here?” Luke questions, his voice rough. “Is anyone coming for us?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. I would like to think there are boats out searching, but truly, they must expect us to be dead. Besides that, we have drifted so far away from the shipwreck that we might not be found even if they were searching.” He shakes his head, hair stiff from the salty spray.

“I would like to keep hope alive.”

“You are the only one.” You hear a small laugh from next to you.

“You know, I could not ask for a better person to be stranded with.” He screws the cap back onto his flask carefully.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you certainly know how to ration supplies. And your optimism is inspiring.” A giggle bubbles up from beneath your buried feelings.

“Is that sarcasm, my dear lord?”

He smiles. You can’t help but notice that his smile is contagious, the kind that reaches his eyes. The kind you found yourself dreaming about, and the kind you are certain your betrothed never wears.

“Only if you make it out to be.” He pauses. “So, what was your life like in Dorne?”

Your eyes narrow. Small talk? It brings you back to your past. Talking to potential suitors and bearing their questions as they try to judge if you’re worth their money. It’s almost nice, the reminder. Before the wreck, you had been happy. Cheerful, even. You were nothing like you are now, hardened and weak and so close to putting sand in your pockets and drowning you can taste the seawater.

“Why do you ask?”

“I figured it would be nice to know you. To really know you.” His words bring an odd sense of comfort to you.

“It was much nicer than this. I had friends and family, that was the best part. I never wanted for much of anything. I suppose I felt out of place sometimes, and I felt lonely like nothing else, but it helped to know that I could always have a home with the people I loved.” He nods, and the waves push against the boat. The sun is setting, condemning you to another sleepless night. “What about you?”

“I love my home, my people, and my family. I never felt up to the task of being lord of Driftmark, though,” He confesses, “and sometimes I still feel like a fraud. Gods, I don’t know why I told you that.” He knows. There’s something about your eyes, something that makes him want to spill every secret he has ever had. He wants to tell you about the time he stole Aemond’s knife, causing Aemond to pick a fight with Aegon. Or when he heard an argument between his mother and stepfather, or when his older brother snuck a frog into the pocket of a handmaiden. Your eyes burn with stifled anger and buried hopes and love.

You look at him with an odd expression. “It’s alright. Might as well get everything out while you can.” You know the feeling of not being enough well. “I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully when we get out of here.” You find yourself comforting him for god knows what reason. You should be angry, full of hatred and buzzing bees, but you can only feel sympathy for the boy across from you.

“When we get out of here? Where was that optimism earlier?” He teases, making you smile.

“It was killed and brought back to life. I have decided that I’m not going to die.” His laugh rings out, showering you in a feeling that makes you shiver.

“That’s a good thing to decide. I swear it too, we are not going to die. Aemond will never kill our spirit nor our bodies.” He takes your hands, palms rough and calloused. It makes your heart pound in a way you never expected. “We will be alright.”

You nod, hope blooming in your heart. Suddenly, the world seems just a little bit brighter. That’s when you see it; the seagull flying overhead.

You gasp, pointing up to the sky. It lets out a sharp cry as it circles around, and soon Luke is looking at it too. You’re so relieved that tears well up in your eyes.

Land must be near. It has to be.

“Praise the gods.” He grins, dropping your hands to shield his eyes from the sun. “We will surely reach the shores soon.”

“I can only hope.” You whisper.

You spend another day on the water, your hopeful eyes searching for mountains or fields. All you can see is blue water, blue skies, and Lucerys Velaryon. You found that you’ve grown to like him, as fucked as your past self might have considered it. He actually treats you like a person.

He squints into the distance. “I still don’t see anything. Maybe… maybe the bird was a fluke. A gull straying too far from the shore.”

You hit his shoulder lightly. “Don’t think like that.”

“It seems we’ve switched roles,” He smiles, “you’re the positive one now.”

“We certainly have rubbed off on each other.” The corners of your mouth lift into a little grin. Truth be told, your own hope is starting to fade, but you will never let him know.

You’ve begun to notice things about the sea that you have never seen before. Schools of small fish darting below the surface, the pattern of the waves, even how chilly the water is. As the sun shines down, the water is peaceful. Maybe it’s a side effect of the trauma, or maybe it’s just you growing more comfortable with the idea of salt water. In any case, you suppose you need to look at its beauty to fan the dying flame of light burning inside you. It’s far easier to love than to keep hating.

“The day is quite beautiful, isn’t it?” You whisper.

“I suppose it is.” He says, but he’s not looking at the sky.

You are infatuating. The way the sun glints off your eyes enraptures him and keeps him in a state of lovely drunkenness. “Do you wish to marry my uncle?” There’s a hint of something more behind his voice. It’s almost desperate, and the thought makes you shiver.

You hesitate. “Not particularly. It would bring honor to my family, that I am sure of. So I will do it, but I will likely not enjoy it.”

“I understand that. I myself am betrothed to someone I can’t see myself loving.”

“The lady Rhaena Targaryen?” You know of her. The idea of him marrying the girl painted by the gods twists your heart in a way you can’t even comprehend.

He sighs. “Yes. It is my duty, but I cannot see her as anything but a sister. That’s all she’s been to me my entire life.”

“Duty is a wicked thing,” You muse, “pulling us away from opportunities to enrich our own lives.��

He nods. “If you could choose, is there anyone you would want to be married to?”

You think for a bit but eventually shake your head. “Do you have a special someone?”

“I am beginning to discover one.” He says. What does he mean by that?

When you look at him, staring far into the distance, you start to realize.

When the days grow dim, you huddle into each other for warmth. That’s why you fall asleep tonight, softened by his touch. Finally, you sleep for more than half an hour at a time. Luke’s arms are wrapped around you, as the lifeboat leaves little room for comfort, and the rock of the ship lulls you into a dream.

You wake to a jolt. You have no idea how long you’ve been asleep, but the moon is out and there is sand underneath your hull. Sand. Ground. You scramble to sit up, pulling Luke along with you. “Sand! Luke, it’s sand. We’ve made it! Gods be good, we have made it to land.” You grab at the wet grains, letting them clump and filter through your fingers. He lets out a loud cheer and pulls you in.

Out of nowhere, as you still have earth in your hands, he kisses you. His lips are rough and dry, but so are yours. He tastes like salt water and love.

When he finally pulls away, he is grinning like a lunatic. “We’ve made it, my lady. We survived.”

“What happened to our no titles agreement?” You tease, still flustered. Your cheeks are as hot as the surface of the sun.

“We’re on land now. The rules of society apply again, I’m afraid.” His whisper ghosts against your ear like he’s almost afraid to lose the closeness he gathered over the course of the last few days.

“Of course,” You say, pressing your lips to his cheek, “I would expect nothing different from such a high-ranking and strong man such as yourself.”

He places a hand where you kissed him. Your skin may be chapped, but that damned kiss was sweeter and softer than spun sugar.

“I’m glad we’ve come to an understanding, my lady.” A glint of humor dances in his eye.

He steps out of the boat and offers a hand to you. The ground wobbles under your feet and you almost fall, but he is there to steady you. “Wait, I know this beach!” He realizes as he gazes upon the scenery. “It’s the beach off Dragonstone. I’m… I’m home.”

“Really?” You feel hope bubbling through your body. “You know where we are?”

“I do. Dragonstone is there, above those cliffs. Come on, let’s go!” He tugs your arm just a bit too hard, sending you sprawling into the sand. You grab onto his sleeve and pull him down too, leaving you both in a fit of giggles.

You’re both weak and tired and sore, but your flames grow brighter every second you’re on solid land. “Race me!” He yells, taking off from the ground on shaky feet. You dart after him, all your earlier burdens seemingly gone.

You probably won’t catch him, but it’s okay. Right now, your future is ahead of you, your rage is behind, the land pounds beneath your feet, and the boy with brown hair is calling for you to join him.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

Taglist (bolded means unable to tag): @mmmimilan @its-halleys-comet @savagemickey03 @persephonesportal @lovelyliliya @the-jess-life @spaceandstars @bbosica @hopelesswritergall @watercolorskyy

#solar eclipse.#house of the dragon #lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon #luke velaryon x reader #lucerys x reader #hotd x reader #hotd fic #lucerys strong #hotd x y/n #house of the dragon lucerys

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mylittleredgirl · 1 month

Note

Least favorite Star Trek character in each series?

i love all my children equally how could you do this to me!!!!

slightly more rational answer: i have been thinking about this since yesterday when i got the ask and it's like every time i think i have an answer i immediately go "oh but i love them for XYZ" and they move up in the ranks. ultimately most treks are ensemble shows and removing anybody from the ensemble makes it all fall apart!

gun to my head, though, bearing in mind that i love all of them:

tos: gun to my head it's chapel i'm afraid and i feel bad about it. she doesn't really get to grow much and the other most-static character is probably chekov and i had a massive crush on him. in 1967 when they went "you know this show should add a mop top for the teenyboppers out there" they were talking specifically about me 30 years later.

tng: i would take the bullet for real.

ds9: man i'm going through main characters and then secondary characters and then tertiary characters and how are they all so essential and good????? literally i have gone thru a list of characters and a list of episodes and am coming up blank. even the villains are fantastic. eddington is annoying but he's supposed to be and his episodes are all great. sloan himself is fun it's just what section 31 did to star trek in general that sucks. like????? there's not a single name that shows up in the credits that doesn't make me go YEAHHHHHH.

voy: if we can count recurring characters i'm saying barclay. i liked him a lot as a character in tng and but go "for fuck's sake" whenever i see "guest star dwight schultz" on the voyager credits. i dislike pretty much every earth-contact episode after "message in a bottle" so maybe i don't like voyager-barclay because he just happens to be there?? for main cast it'd be neelix shut up shut up i love him in the ensemble but sometimes when they give him his own episode it's too much.

ent: sorry malcolm lovers this was the only show that was an easy choice. like we SHOULD dig into the fact that essentially his greatest wish is to sacrifice himself and he won't be happy until he dies on the job. klingon behavior but not at all for the fun and glory of it just because he kind of just doesn't enjoy being alive???? archer is terrible in so many ways but he's also much more enjoyable to watch being terrible.

disco: this is actually a very weird show to even know who to choose from. the cast changes every year! we barely even know the bridge crew! who is interesting enough to count as a main character?? of the main title cast i'm kind of hot and cold with adira. i like them but the sheer amount of anxiety radiating off them at all times makes me tense up whenever they come on screen. (i just realized it's kind of ironic to say adira because they're basically a mix of wesley and ezri, who would probably make this list for most other trekkies but are two of my absolute faves.) (i will think long and hard about this)

snw: i don't know that i have enough of a read on any of them? i still haven't finished it. chapel (again?? oh no) is the one i had the hardest time warming up to early on because she seemed the most wink-y and out of place in a franchise that usually takes silly things very seriously, but i did warm up to her!

lower decks: if we can go with guest characters i hate badgey (only one on here that gathers the "hate" rating!!). i don't find him (it??) funny and i know i SHOULD find it funny which means whenever it shows up i am both not having a good time and feel bad about not having a good time. the main characters are all brilliant. gun to my head it's boims but it's a close one i love them all.

i don't even know what other shows we have i've run out of steam???

oh right picard. captain shaw??? why is such a large subset of fandom so horny for him??? and shipping him with seven of nine of all things???? is it just White Guy With Trauma because there are like. a lot of other white guys with trauma in this franchise to choose from.

#chatter post #anonymous friend #star trek thoughts #this killed me i'm going to eat ice cream straight from the container now and i didn't even get them all

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40sjoyner · 27 days

Text

HAWAII FIVE O! REWATCH;

honestly I started doing a rewatch because I'm absolutely obsessed with this show but I also realized that I don't remember a lot of things that happened or when they happened (and I'm trying to convince my friend to watch) so! I decided to just write points through the episode for myself and well why not to post it on here bc there are people like me for sure. (didn't thought to do it to the first two episodes)

I'm gonna update that through the season probably. Also the qoutes are probably not 100% correct so don't take me by word.

A lot of mcdanno moments i want to remember!

SEASON ONE :)

episode 3

dude in shark tank thanks to steve.

football game, grace meet the team!

steve talk with the governor about danny's custody issues so grace stay in hawaii (i love them you honor)

chin tell steve that steve's dad and him went to every single football game steve played, "it was officially day off" (chin was fresh out of the academy).

five o was steve number player. his dad idea.

the end of the episode they decided five o for the team name. (I genuinely didn't remember it happened like that).

episode 4

danny knee injury.

mary come to visit! (I absolutely love her)

apparently mary and steve didn't met since their mom funeral.

"how long were you married" - A prisoner to mcdanno. The first time someone tell that!

"we were invisible to this man" Mary about John. "he didn't always show us but love us" Steve to mary.

Catherine introduction.

episode 5

max introduction!!!

mary found the champ box

episode 6

we learned more about kono as her benefactor is killed, who she also see as family.

"when i say 'book him danno' it's a term of entertainment" "okay do it every day i like it"

episode 7

A guy take hostage on a ship, steve swim to go on the ship.

steve take his shirt off infronto of danny (yeah its that scene)

""you miss me, don't you?" "oh yeah, I wish you were here but you don't swim." .... "You talking to your wife?" (boat guy) "I'm talking to my partner." (second time someone compares them to a married couple! I'm starting a count with this)

The boat guy knew Steve's grandfather.

episode 8

another grace scene

danny's ex partner from HPD, meka, was murdered.

another sang min appearance.

a lot of actors i know from different show play in this show and i forgot about this.

It's jiaying! aos fan forever and always, even tho she also played in the 100 (which is one of my fav show ever) my first reaction to her was jiaying.

Antonio from Chicago pd, again another show I'm absolutely obsessed with.

it's funny how we say to people that danny is the clam one when he literally tied a guy to the hood of the car and drove in high speed through the streets.

also five o in formal clothes are so hot.

danny and chin scene together. telling each other they're here for the other. The friendship in the show are amazing.

episode 9

nick taylor introduced, he is steve's friend and he served under him a few years in the navy.

smooth dog mcgarrett! hello

steve say that he was on the other side of those missions, he implies that he was the one who killed the high value targets.

steve say they all had a speciality, he basically say that he was a sniper. (danny ask him and he smiles as an answer)

nick is an asshole and danny knew that!

ok but for real now, the team killed so many people and it's not even ten episodes, i genuinely want to know the numbers, especially for steve. it's one of the only cop show that they kill and show so freely and no one talk about this.

five o saved a country by protecting the guy and his family! why no one remember this!!

"you have got to start doing a better job of picking your friends." "I picked you, didn't I?" (i love this scene so much, their smilesss)

#hawaii five o #h5o #h50 fandom #h50 #rewatch #hawaii five o rewatch #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #kono kalakaua #chin ho kelly #mcdanno

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galaxycunt · 6 months

Text

I Can Be Anything

1.5k words of silly little fun 😙 I promise

Listening to this while I wrote it hehe

A loud heckle cut through his story, “bull fucking shit, man!”

Buggy snapped his head in the direction of the woman pounding back beers two seats down. She didn’t look much older than him, carrying herself like she had decades more experience. Laughing, she rested her head in her palm like she expected him to do something about it.

”I’m new in town so I’ll let it slide that you don’t recognize me at first, sweetie.”

“Oh,” she smirked, “didn’t know the circus was in town. My bad.”

Buggy was leaning into his appearance, still didn’t appreciate the comparisons. But if this bitch was looking for a fight, she’ll get one.

”That’s right, it’s me. Buggy the Clown. The Genius Jester.”

”My mistake,” she stood up to curtesy, “my sincerest apologies. Didn’t realize you were the king of the clowns.”

The pirates in earshot laughed at his expense. A fight it is. Buggy gulped the last of his bottle, yanking back her hair. She yelped with a surprise, he couldn’t tell if her cheeks were flushed from the drink or something else.

She was pretty, long hair separated into two braids, tattoos of a career sailor, rope burns branded into her throat. All that admiring left him distracted, the woman stamping on his foot.

”Next time I’ll cut that hand off!”

”Oh yeah? Well listen up cu-“

”-oi! You two break any of my nice antique stools, I break your skulls. Got it?” The bartender cut in.

”Look at the guy, Jim. He ain’t scaring me,” she winked.

Buggy decided to brush her off, but she wouldn’t stop pestering him. Every time he told a joke, she laughed loud and sarcastic. Buggy was here to find a crew, stealing a ship and making a name for himself. Every time he approached someone, she was there.

”He’s gonna lead you straight to the depths, he can’t even get his lipstick to stay!”

”Oh, Stevie, don’t go. Sea Kings don’t like clowns, they taste funny!”

”Marines gonna make your sentence be performing for the troops. Fate worse than death!”

Every single time, a shit eating grin while she got drunker. Buggy just about had it, not wanting to leave and let her win. He sat back at the bar, face buried in his hands. Next thing she said, he told himself, he was going to put her in her place.

”Cigarette?”

”How about you fuck off before I smoke you!” it sounded better in his head.

Her eyes widened, “if you wanted your lips on me, should’ve just said so!”

His cheeks burned with anger and embarrassment, “shut up! Shut the fuck up!”

She stared at him, blowing smoke in his face. As he opened his mouth, she smacked him hard. Buggy flew into a rage, fists flying as he straddled her. A huge mistake, she kicked him right in the groin. As she returned to her seat all smiles, his hands dragged her back down.

”Holy shit! His hands!”

Buggy dragged her across the barroom floor as she struggled, attempting slice something. Cursing as his body put itself back together again.

Buggy dragged her to the back alley behind the bar, reveling at how disheveled she looked now. Disembodied hands picked her up, feet not touching the ground so they could be eye level.

”No one, and I mean no one, fucks with Buggy The Clown.”

”Devil Fruit, huh? Kinda cheating, don’t you think?”

He enjoyed watching her squirm, “since when do pirates fight fair?”

”Touché,” she said butting heads.

Still no use, his hands in an iron grip as he writhed on the ground. She kicked his ribs for good measure, hands finally letting her go.

What a funny little clown.

The woman had a good laugh at his expense, unaware that Buggy was right behind her. He hit her over the head with his fists.

“What did I fucking say!”

”Ow! Fuck! Alright, alright!”

They sized each other up, she couldn’t take down a devil fruit user so easily. She was going to take a shot at it anyway, she wasn’t a coward.

”What’s your name anyway?”

She smiled, “Mad Dog Mara. Bet you heard of that.”

He did, the pirate who survived a hanging, killing the marines involved. So mad, she did it twice.

“Join my crew.”

”You fucking with me?”

”You scared away your competition, what else is a man supposed to think?”

”I only join real crews.”

A knife flew past her, “I’m a real fucking pirate. You’re looking at the fucking king.”

She charged at him, Buggy bracing himself. Their knives dug into flesh at the same time, his torso separated, hers did not.

“Right on, Buggy The Clown.”

He didn’t pull the knife out, “holy shit.”

She smiled, “upstairs I got a room. No need for a doctor. If you really ain’t gonna kill me.”

Carefully he picked her up, carrying her bridal style up to her room. Buggy knew a few tricks, using the first aid in her room. She fought a lot, the box littered with dried bloody fingerprints.

“Cut the top off, ruined anyway.”

She watched him work, with a gentleness he didn’t give her before. Her heart jumped up her throat, maybe this was it. Funny way to go, a clown to match.

”Don’t be like that, you survived worse.”

”Hm? Oh yeah, just gotta breathe through it. That’s all.”

He nodded, cleaning the wound as best he could. She felt the need to make a joke of the whole thing, she wasn’t used to someone else helping her out.

”Not the way I wanted you to take my top off,” she smiled at his red face, ”You’re new to this aren’t you?”

”Nope.”

”Is that right?”

He nodded, “served on a crew. My whole life. Went my own way at 15. Didn’t look back.”

He said the last part quieter, like he didn’t fully believe it himself. She knew that all too well.

”Hand me that bottle, I’m ready for the stitches.”

He let her squeeze his arm as he worked, “how’d you survive that execution?”

Her eyes glossed over, “rope broke the first time. I was there for hours. I prayed to whoever wanted to listen, ‘wasn’t I a child of this world? Don’t I deserve to live too?’ And then it broke.”

”And the second time?”

”I like you Buggy, so I’ll let you in on my trade secret. I kept a whistle in my throat. Lets me breathe.”

”Huh.”

She smiled, “what’s it like? Eating that fruit?”

He frowned, not answering her for a moment. He bandaged her up, taking a swig of her bottle. Watching the liquid pour down her throat, the way it moved as she gulped.

”It tastes like shit. A little unfair in the end, all those wonderful powers made useless with a few splashes of water. Some pirate I am.”

”Made it this far.”

”Yeah.”

They stared at each other in a comfortable silence. He was drunk, on the booze and adrenaline, finger grazing her skin along the bandages. Her breath hitched, pulling him closer by the elbow. He had long lashes, fluttering like butterflies. She never seen a man look like him before, and he looked at her like she was the only woman in the world.

Like magnets, they pulled closer together. She could blame the day on this later, she needed him closer. Mara thought she should end fights like this more often. His fingers grazed the wound, a little concerned how good her whiny little moans sounded to him.

“Join my crew,” he said between kisses, “be my first mate.”

Buggy watched her squirm beneath him with stars in her eyes, it made him feel like the spotlight was on him. Relishing in the attention.

”Sure. As long as you keep doing that, right there.”

He was burning up, a spell cast upon him. She could make him do anything. The room was on fire, he needed to reach his release but he drew it out longer. His head spun, his brain catching up with him.

He helped her clean up, and change into something clean and dry. Carefully they snuggled up together. Buggy kept telling her their next plans, Mara threw out a few people she figured would be a good addition to his ship. And then they planned to get a bigger one.

”I’ll make you my queen, that I promise.”

”Unless I find it first, then I’ll be the king, right?”

“So I just sit around looking pretty?”

”You already have better hair than me. Why not?”

He laughed, “whatever you say, baby.”

Buggy waited for her at the dock, she insisted she would just need a check up with a doctor and would be ready to sail. He waited hours, unsure of where the doctor would be. The sun was setting, he went looking for her.

The doctor wouldn’t look him in the eye, his office showed signs of a struggle.

“Where is she? What happened?”

”Marines. Undercover.”

Buggy’s eyes widened. He needed to save her, by any means necessary.

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy x oc #buggy x you #Spotify

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bitchinfawkseh · 1 month

Text

Heaven Knows Your Name, I've Been Praying: Chapter 18

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Summary: Bela gets in the way yet again while they are working on a case.

W.C: 7627

Warnings: Sexual content and violence.

[A/N] boy do I have a surprise for you!

Masterlist | AO3

“So, how did things go with Mr. Warren?” Bela asked coolly as she shoved her way inside, not even caring to allow Dean to invite her in. She had a packed folder full of what looked like papers tucked under her arm. When nobody answered her question, she grinned and stopped just short of where Carlos was sitting. “That well, huh?” She mused. Dean shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. Bela grated on every single one of his nerves, and pushed all of his buttons – she annoyed the crap out of him. “If you say I told you so, I swear to God I'll start swingin’.” He growled under his breath.

“I think we all should have a heart-to-heart.” She began.

“That's assuming that you have a heart.” Dean retorted back. Bela pouted her lips together and set the folder on the wooden table. Her demeanour seemed quite apologetic, but then again, they couldn't trust Bela. She's fucked them over more than once in the past.

“Dean, please... I'm sorry about what I said before, okay? I come bearing gifts.” Bela said. Cheryl raised her brows and tucked her phone into her hoodie pocket. Her promise of a gift piqued all of their interest, but they didn't know if they could trust her. Sam marked the page of the book he was reading and set it down. “Such as?” He asked.

“I've IDed the ship,” Bela smirked. Carlos cocked a disbelieving brow, “Really?”

“Yes,” Bela looked Carlos up and down as if she were checking him out or sizing him up before opening the folder. “It's the Espírito Santo, a merchant sailing vessel, with quite a colourful history. In 1859, a sailor was accused of treason. He was tried aboard ship in a kangaroo court and hanged. He was 37.”

“Which would explain the 37-year cycle.” Sam breathed as he dawned on the realization.

“Aren't you a sharp tack?” Bela cooed. She flipped through the file before plucking out a printed photo. “Here's a photo of him.”

Sam inspected the photo as she handed it to him before his eyes widened in surprise and he showed Carlos the picture. “That's the guy we saw last night,” Sam said.

“You saw him?” Bela asked. Carlos nodded and glanced up at her, only staring at her blankly. He thought it was quite funny that she outsmarted Sam and Dean on multiple occasions, but he couldn't let that on. “Yup,” Carlos replied nonchalantly. “Except he was missing a hand.” He added.

“His right hand?”

“How did you know?”

“The sailor's body was cremated, but not before they cut off his hand to make a hand of glory,” Bela explained with a deep sigh. Dean grinned and let out a tiny chuckle at the thought of his joke. He had it locked and loaded, but when Cheryl sent him a raised brow, he decided not to say it. It was like she somehow knew it was a distasteful sex joke. “Right, so, uh, hand of glory? That sounds pretty dirty.” Dean opted to say instead.

When nobody laughed at his joke, he deflated. Sam's lips thinned and his brows knitted together, “Dean, the right hand of a hanged man is a serious occult object. It's very powerful.” He deadpanned.

“So they say,” Bela said coolly. Cheryl raised her brows and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it. “Which officially counts as remains. So we find it, burn it, and we're done.” Cheryl added.

“Yeah, but it doesn't explain how the ghost is choosing his victims.” Sam sighed.

“I'll tell you why. Who cares? Find the hand, burn it, and stop the bloody thing.” Bela hissed. Dean crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Bela intently, trying to figure out why she'd bring this information to them. It certainly didn't benefit her, but maybe they should trust her. “Why are you helping us?” Dean questioned.

“Because I know exactly where the hand is.”

“Where?”

“At the Sea Pines Museum. It's a macabre bit of maritime history. But I need help.”

“What kind of help?” Carlos asked suspiciously.

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Shopping, Cheryl loved to shop. So, when she had to go find a fancy dress and matching heels, she was over the moon with excitement. She settled on a simple black satin dress that puffed out at the waist and stopped just shy of the knees. It had spaghetti strap sleeves, but they were so thin that it might as well be a strapless dress. For shoes, she got simple black kitten heels that had a little tule bow at the counter. She felt effortlessly beautiful, and she looked forward to surprising Dean with her outfit. He was her date to it, after all, Carlos was going with Bela, and Sam was going with Gert. Now that she thought of it, this was her and Dean's official first date. Technically, anyway.

Cheryl smoothed out the skirt of her dress before tucking her small clutch into her side. They were waiting on Dean now, Bela was in a floor-length dress and had on a necklace with obnoxiously large gemstones, and Carlos was in his own tux – because he owned one, funnily enough. Bela sighed loudly and rolled her eyes, “What is taking so long? Sam's already halfway there... with his date.” She called out to Dean. His voice echoed from the top of the stairs, there was a hint of insecurity in his tone. “So not okay with this!” He yelled. Carlos snorted before saying: “What are you, a woman? Come down already!”

Dean groaned loudly, and finally, he descended the stairs sporting a tux that made Cheryl swoon. She sucked in a breath as her eyes settled on his form. Cheryl noticed that his bowtie was lopsided, but she found it cute. When nobody said anything, Dean outspread his arms and glanced down at the floor. He hadn't even noticed what Cheryl was wearing yet. “All right, get it out – I look ridiculous.”

“Not exactly the word I'd use.” Bela hummed as she pushed a chair into the table. Dean's brows furrowed in confusion and he pouted his lips together. “What?” He asked. Cheryl opened her mouth to speak, to compliment him, but Bela spoke before her.

“You know, when this is over, we should really have angry sex.” She grinned.

Cheryl's face fell and her stomach tied into a knot. She didn't blame Bela for saying that, she and Dean weren't public with their relationship yet – but she couldn't help but feel insecure. Dean, having finally noticed Cheryl, swallowed hard and frowned. She looked too beautiful to be upset, she had even curled her hair – and he knew that took a lot of time because she always said that it did. “I'd rather not, let's go,” Dean said quickly before marching towards the front door. Cheryl followed suit, then Carlos and Bela.

Thankfully, Bela rode with Carlos in his truck – it allowed them to get to know each other since this was the first time that they had met. But, that didn't stop Cheryl from being silent on the way over to the museum. Her entire body was turned away from Dean. Her knees were pressed together and the skirt of her dress fell neatly over her thighs. She looked sort of like a princess.

Dean shot her a quick look and his lips thinned, he knew she was upset, it was wafting off of her – and it wasn't hard to guess why. “Don't pay attention to what Bela says, she doesn't mean it.” He said in an attempt to soothe her obvious worries.

“I'm sure she did,” Cheryl sighed deeply, “I'm just getting into my head, don't worry about me.” She whispered.

“Cher, I want you. Not Bela, not any other chick. You.” Dean started. Cheryl went silent and she pursed her lips together, she squeezed her clutch tight. She really wanted to believe him, she did believe him. “I'm scared that you're going to get tired of waiting to have sex with me. And it's not that I don't want to do it – I'm just… scared to. What if I can't please you?”

“That may be the craziest thing you've ever said, Cher.” He snorted.

“Dean,” She pleaded. She was being serious – she was terrified that she wouldn't be able to please him or make him feel good.

Dean frowned and gripped the steering wheel tight, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Simply being with a beauty like her would make him feel good. “Babe, it isn't just a one-way street… I want to make you feel good too, I am going to make you feel good. You don't gotta worry about pleasing me, because just being with you pleases me. No matter how long it takes, I'm gonna be here, and I'm gonna stay even if it's bad – and I doubt it will be.” He told her. Cheryl was looking at him now, he could feel her eyes pressing deep into his soul – searching for honesty. “Really?” She exhaled finally.

“Yeah! I mean, like, look at you. You're gorgeous, you look gorgeous right now. I'd be crazy not to wait – I'd be especially crazy to not wanna make you feel good.” Dean exclaimed. Cheryl's lips parted before they spread up into a wide smile, and her heart soared with relief. All previous worries she had about being intimate with him were gone, she now knew that he was here to stay. Here to be her boyfriend – not a hookup. She scooted a little closer to him, and he took the cue to hold her hand. “Well… I'm ready then.” Cheryl whispered.

His brows shot up, “Are you sure? It's only been a few days since our talk…”

Cheryl nodded, “Si, I am sure. I… trust you. I trust that you will make me feel safe, I want to do it with you. I don't want to be held back by what my Father did to me anymore, I want to be free.” Dean rolled into a parking spot in front of the busy museum and pulled the keys out of the ignition. He leaned into her, and his lips ghosted over hers. “Thanks for trusting me,” he whispered, “I'll always make sure you feel safe, always.” He said before he gently pressed his lips to hers.

Cheryl smiled against his lips and let her eyes fall shut, he was so understanding – so kind and careful with her, she wondered if he was like that with his past girlfriends. Reluctantly, she pulled back from him but still had her forehead against his. “We should go,” she whispered, “before they get suspicious.”

“Just one more…” Dean pleaded softly, nudging her nose with his. Her lips were soft and tasted of strawberries – presumably because of the lip balm she bought at the store the other day. Her breath was minty fresh, but even if it wasn't, he wouldn't care. Cheryl nodded slowly, “Okay,” She agreed. Tentatively, their lips met once again. This kiss was more heated than the last, a little sloppy and some tongue here and there. Cheryl only now realized that she had broken one of her first date rules; she was making out with Dean in the Impala before their date even started.

Now they walked in through the open doors, arm in arm. They could get off with simple stuff like this, maybe even hand-holding – tonight they were posing as husband and wife. Carlos had gotten Cheryl a fake wedding ring from a pawn shop, and the ring that Dean wore all of the time would work just fine. Cheryl leaned into Dean to whisper to him: “We're supposed to be husband and wife, Mr And Mrs Rosen. So act as such.”

Dean grinned wide. “Don't you think we're moving a bit fast?” He said teasingly.

“Shut up,” Cheryl laughed. She glanced around the room full of rich people in fancy gowns and tuxedos, she felt quite out of place. Even when she was married to Carlos and had to attend real events like this, she felt out of place, like some poor outsider who didn't know which fork was meant for the salad.

Dean nudged her side to grab her attention before pointing to a far corner of the room where Sam was dancing with Gert. “Would you look at that? Sam, a boy toy.” He mused. Cheryl couldn't help but laugh, Dean was effortlessly charming and funny. It was one of the many things she appreciated about him. “Dean,” she began to scold playfully, “focus, he's only doing his job. Let's go find the hand.”

“Alright, alright.” He sighed.

They perused around the museum, moseying around all of the people and waiters and waitresses with trays of drinks and food. There were men dressed in full black suits stationed at every door, and there were two of them posted at each bannister of the stairs. Dean sighed and his lips thinned in annoyance, “I don't think we're going to be able to waltz upstairs.” He whispered to Cheryl. She nodded slowly and glanced around for any way around the men, but when there were none, she groaned. “Oh, cariño, I feel faint.” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and her eyes fluttered shut. Dean's eyes widened and he quickly grasped her arms as if preparing for her to fall. “What? Faint?” He asked quietly. Cheryl nodded and pouted her lips together before falling into Dean, he thankfully caught her.

Dean, who suddenly became aware of her plan, flagged a guard over. “My wife, she's not feelin’ too hot – is there anywhere she can lay down for a bit?” He asked hopefully. The guard took one glance at Cheryl, noticing her pale complexion and her sullen face before he nodded. “Follow me.” He ordered, and he led Dean (who was carrying Cheryl) up the stairs.

The guard thankfully didn't stick around, he left them alone to allow Cheryl to get better. “Bela said that the hand is in room two-hundred thirty-five, and it's in a locked glass case with an alarm,” Cheryl said as she kicked off her heels. Despite them being kitten heels, they were still quite uncomfortable. Any sort of high heel was uncomfortable. Dean noticed this, and quickly offered to go get the hand himself: “I've got it covered if you just wanna wait here for me.”

“Really? Oh, gracias, cariño. You're such a sweet man.” She doted. Dean flushed and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. For some reason when her accent got all heavy and she called him a Spanish pet name, he got all blushy like some schoolboy. “Uh, no problem, babe. Just wait here, I'll be back.”

And so, Cheryl was now waiting for Dean to come back with the hand. While waiting, she decided to sprawl up on the sofa and look through the photos on her phone. She usually didn't take pictures, a few of them were quite old, except for the recent ones of her and Dean. One of them in bed together, her lips pressed to his cheek and Dean grinning ear to ear. Another one showed them simply smiling in the Impala for the picture, and the last one was just of Dean marvelling at a large ice cream sundae he ordered. Again, she never really took photos, but she made the mental note to start taking more. If they couldn't find a way to save Dean, she wanted to remember his face, smile, and eyes. She'd hate it if she forgot his eyes, so green and comforting. So beautiful.

Ojos de angel.

Angel eyes.

Cheryl pinched the sheer fabric of her pantyhose and rubbed it between her thumb and pointer finger. Thinking about him dying made her heartache and her knees weak. The kind of fate that those who made deals faced was unfair and torturous.

Her phone pinged in her hand, it was a text from Carlos that read: Did you find the hand yet? Cheryl sighed and began to carefully type out her response on the keypad. When it came to speaking and reading English, she was a pro now, but writing – she was still quite bad at it. Yes, Dean is grabbing it.

OK, Carlos sent back. Finally, the door cracked open and Dean snuck back inside with the decayed hand wrapped in a handkerchief. Cheryl hopped off of the sofa and fisted her skirt out of nervous habit. “Good… you got it. We can put it in my purse.” She offered.

“Yeah, thanks.” He murmured. Cheryl nodded and snatched her clutch off of the small coffee table and tossed it to Dean. Once it was tucked away, Cheryl picked up her heels off of the ground and padded her way towards him.

“Let's go then, I'd like to get out of here.” She sighed as she reluctantly put her heels back on. Dean passed her clutch back to her and offered her his arm, which she gratefully accepted. “You know what I could use right now?” Cheryl hummed.

“What?” Dean asked.

“A nice hot bubble bath… in a tub deep enough that the water covers my knees and boobs.” She replied. Dean grinned at the thought of her wanting something so simple. A bubble bath, it was a little cute. “A bubble bath, huh? I'll keep that in mind…”

“If you find a hotel with a tub big enough, maybe we can bathe together.” She suggested shyly. Dean only paid attention to her as they descended the stairs arm in arm, he did not care about the rich people mingling around them. “A bath together… that sounds hot.” He commented.

“I was thinking romantic.” Cheryl smiled.

Cheryl glanced through the crowd of people for a restroom, she wanted to freshen up and adjust her pantyhose. They were chafing – it was making her go insane. Finally, she spotted the women's restroom and exhaled a sigh of relief. “I'm gonna pop into the washroom really fast, meet you at the Impala?” She glanced up at Dean just as he quickly placed a kiss on her cheek. Cheryl flushed and Dean nodded, “Okay.” He said hoarsely.

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Cheryl set her purse on the counter and turned on the tap, wetting her hands before squirting some soap onto them and lathering it. She was very precise with how she washed her hands, her Mom taught her how to do it properly and passed on her fear of getting sick. In her head, she sang the happy birthday song twice.

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you.

Happy birthday dear Cheryl, happy birthday to you.

She used her name when she sang this song while washing her hands, it's what her Mom taught her to do. The bathroom door swung open and heels clicked against the floor. “Oh, Cheryl, how are things?” Bela asked coolly once she noticed her. Her eyes flickered down to Cheryl's clutch on the counter before they focused back on her. Cheryl smiled out of nothing but politeness, “Good, we're heading out now. Carlos told you we got the hand?” Cheryl asked.

“Yes, yes he did…” She sauntered over to the second sink next to Cheryl and began to touch up her makeup in the mirror. “He's quite the character, Carlos. Quite handsome too.”

“Oh, believe me, I know.” Cheryl snorted. She rinsed the soap off of her hands and flicked the excess water into the sink before turning to get some paper towels.

“So, you and Dean, huh?” Bela smirked. Cheryl flushed almost immediately and spun around to face her. She wondered what might have given it away – what made her think that. “What?” Cheryl breathed.

“You're together, are you not?”

“Um… no, what gives you the idea?”

“Just seems like it. My mistake.” Bela smiled. She patted her lips with the pad of her finger before leaning back. “Well, I ought to be going. See you around, Cheryl.”

“Yeah… see you around, Bela.”

After Cheryl was finished in the washroom, she rushed outside to the Impala. The air was frigid, it left goosebumps on her skin and made her fingers numb despite the short walk. Thankfully, Dean already had the heat blasting for her and the Impala was toasty warm. Cheryl let out a content sigh and her eyes fluttered shut, “Oh, it's so warm.”

He smiled, “Yeah, I knew you'd be cold.”

“You're such a good boyfriend.”

“Only the best for you, babe.”

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Sam and Carlos were already in the room when they got back. As soon as Cheryl was able, she kicked off her shoes and let out a deep sigh. Sam quickly sprang up from his spot on the sofa, “You have the hand?” He asked hopefully. Cheryl nodded and tossed her clutch at him, which he caught thankfully just as Dean shut and locked the front door. “It's in there,” Cheryl said as she fluffed up her hair. She inspected her reflection in the mirror for a moment and continued to mess with her hair. She didn't care about how it looked now, they were done for the night. They didn't have to go anywhere else.

“Um, Cheryl, it's not here.” Sam wavered. Her eyes widened briefly and she spun around to face him, it was there – she watched Dean put it in there. “What!? Sure it is!” She exclaimed. Cheryl rushed forward and snatched the bag from Sam's grasp, and sure enough, it was empty. She gasped and rocked back onto her heels, “Dean put it in here – I watched him!” She shouted.

“Well, it didn't just grow legs and walk away!” Carlos huffed out. Cheryl threw the purse down onto the floor and threaded her fingers through her hair. He was right – it didn't just disappear. The three men began to ask her a series of questions, what she did, who was there, et cetera. And then, she realized. “Bela,” Cheryl hissed through clenched teeth, “she was in the bathroom with me – she must have swiped it! God, I'm such an idiot!”

“Cher, don't say that – she's a conniving con artist bitch.” Dean quickly said.

“Yeah, this isn't the first time she's gotten one over us – we'll find another way.” Sam comforted. It wasn't Cheryl's fault, they wanted to make sure that she knew that. Bela was a con artist, she didn't care about the people she hurt or killed. She only cared about herself and money. Carlos patted her back, “It's okay, Cherry.” He murmured. This time, Carlos wasn't able to make her feel better. She still felt stupid.

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Cheryl hadn't bothered to change out of her dress and pantyhose, she only laid on top of the unmade bed curled up into a small ball. She was utterly humiliated, and she didn't think she was a good hunter. Cheryl glanced at the clock on the nightstand, it was right around the time when Dean would sneak into her room. Midnight. As if right on cue, the door creaked open and Dean slipped through the small crack before closing it again.

When his eyes landed on her, he raised a questioning brow. “You haven't changed yet?” He asked quietly. Cheryl shook her head and reluctantly pushed herself up to a sitting position. “No,” she whispered, “too lazy, I guess.” She added. He went silent and only nodded, standing at the foot of the bed like a confused child. He was hesitating – hesitating to ask something – hesitant to climb into bed with her.

“Do you… want help?” Dean finally asked her.

“Help with what?”

“Changing.”

“Oh…” Cheryl flushed and looked at her bags full of clothes on the armchair in the corner. Neatly folded on the top of the bag was a fresh sweatshirt, pyjama pants and underwear. She swallowed before slowly nodding, she wanted Dean to help her. The idea made her heart pitter-patter and her stomach tie into a knot. “Si, por favor.” Cheryl whispered as she slid off of the bed.

Cheryl stood with her back to him, facing the wall and waiting for his next move. When Dean's fingers gently grasped the zipper in the middle of her back and dragged it down, she sighed. Dean was just as nervous as she was but for different reasons. He worried that he was going to make her uncomfortable – make her feel unsafe. He'd never want to put her in a situation like that. He dragged his gaze down to her strapless bra as the dress fell to the floor discarded. Dean now had her in her underwear – the woman of his dreams, literally. But he didn't intend to make a move on her, not when she was so upset. So vulnerable. He wouldn't take advantage of her like that. Dean curled his fingers under the hem of her tights and dragged them down to about her knees before he let her kick them off herself.

Cheryl smirked faintly and tucked a fluffy strand of hair behind her ear. “I can't sleep in a bra, Dean…” She whispered tauntingly. Yet again, he asked: “Are you sure?” Which made her sigh, she appreciated him asking all of the time, but sometimes she wished he would just do things like the regular Dean Winchester would. Without missing another beat, Cheryl turned to be face-to-face with him and reached back to unclip her bra, letting it fall to the floor. “Stop asking me that. I'll tell you if I'm uncomfortable.” She hummed as she snuck her fingers under his shirt to toy with the hem of his sweatpants. Dean swallowed hard and his pupils dilated as soon as they landed on Cheryl's breasts – full, beautiful, begging for him to grope and touch them. They were big – so they sagged a bit, nothing unusual, but fuck, just looking at them made him hard.

Dean's lips crashed into hers, and he felt up every inch of her bare body presented to him. Her back, her waist, her boobs, her thighs, it all. He groaned against her lips when she pressed herself right against his hardened cock, and Cheryl grinned. “Already?” She whispered before he attacked her again with breathless and needy kisses.

“It's just – fuck – it's just what you do to me, baby. Fuckin’ look at you, you're gorgeous.” Dean said huskily.

“So are you…”

“I'm not the one with great tits here.”

“Take off your shirt then, let's put that to the test.” She purred against the skin of his mouth. Dean pulled back from her and yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. Cheryl smirked, “Pants too.”

“Yes ma'am.” Dean breathed as he tugged his pants down and kicked them away. He'd waited for this moment for so long – looked forward to it – hoped for it, and it was about to happen.

Their mouths were on one another within seconds, their hands on each other's bodies. It was just the two of them, appreciating each other, caring for each other, adoring each other. Dean caressed her cheek and gently swiped her hair off of her shoulder so he could pepper kisses along her sensitive neck. Cheryl sighed pleasantly and he relished in it, he couldn't wait to hear what her moans sounded like – were they anything like his dreams?

“Do you have a condom?” Cheryl breathed, her breath hot against his ear. Dean grinned into her neck and nodded slowly, he always had condoms – that was a silly question. “Yeah, in my room.” He replied huskily.

“Go get them, I'll be waiting here for you.”

“Oh… will you?” He smirked and groped her ass cheeks. Cheryl giggled softly and pressed a chasting kiss to his lips. “Hurry up. Don't keep me waiting.” She said. As if Dean would ever make her wait for him.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Cheryl fell back against the plush pillows and her hair fanned out across them. Dean gently traced his hands down her stomach before hooking his fingers under the band of her cotton panties and dragged them down her thighs and tossed them away. She was now in all her glory before him – beautiful and waiting for him to touch her. Dean let out a heavy breath and his eyes zeroed in on her wet cunt. “Fuck, babe…” He groaned as he climbed on top of her, pinning her to the mattress with his weight. Cheryl cupped his cheek once he was face to face with her and traced his lips with her thumb. She was a little nervous – but it was a good kind of nervous. The kind that had butterflies and the clenching of the heart.

She spread her legs wide and urged him closer to her by hooking a leg around his waist. “We have to be quiet, can you be quiet?” Cheryl whispered against his lips.

“Can you?”

“Depends how good you are.” She smirked. Dean also grinned and teasingly traced her inner thigh, slowly inching up closer to where she needed him most. Finally, he cupped her pussy and dragged his fingers through her folds and over her clit. Cheryl sucked in a sharp breath and her brows furrowed at the wonderful feeling. Her reaction only made his stupid grin widen, “So wet, for me?” He asked as he gently pecked her lips. She nodded fervently and moaned softly when he swiped over her clit again. Oh, that sound. The sound of her moaning for him, God, he wanted to listen to that sound all of the time.

Dean continued to toy with her, watching intently as Cheryl writhed in pleasure underneath him. Just watching her like this had him rock hard – his dick was straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs – begging to be touched, begging to be inside of her. Cheryl let out a whine and tossed her head back, “Stop teasing me and just fuck me!” She said, exasperated. Her plea was a little too loud, it had them stop for a moment and listen for any signs of Carlos or Sam being awake. Thankfully, a loud snore sounded from the next room over and they both sighed in relief.

Once it was safe, Dean smirked. “Needy,” he says as he kisses her, “but, if you want me to fuck you, then I guess I have to.”

“Por favor…” Cheryl begged. He knew what por favor meant, she was saying please.

Please, please, please. Chanting it like a prayer. He wanted her to say his name like that – over and over. And soon, she was. She was saying his name like that, chanting it over and over. Like a prayer.

“Dean,” Cheryl gasped. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he continued to thrust into her, slow and deep. Dean wanted to enjoy this, he didn't want it to be fast – he didn't want it to be forgettable. He didn't want to treat her like some slut, he wanted to show her he cared. Dean let out a tiny moan when her walls throbbed around him, he had been trying to be quiet, but it was just so hard. To stifle his moans and hers, he smashed his lips into hers and increased the pace of his thrusts. Cheryl breathed him in, she wanted to feel him, feel all of Dean. Not just the physicalities, but him.

His heart, his soul, his love. She wanted to feel him. Two hearts beating a thousand miles per hour, yet somehow they were in unison. His, hers, his, hers. Dean's, Cheryl's, Dean's, Cheryl's.

Cheryl lifted her hips to meet each of his thrusts, and the bedframe creaked with fervour. They were nearing the end, she knew, she could feel it. Dean was growing sloppy, becoming more vocal and his hands fisted the sheets. Thankfully, he was wearing a condom so they didn't have to worry about a baby, they could enjoy their time together. She crossed her legs over the small of his back and moaned against his lips. “Come, I want you to come.” She panted. Cheryl's brows knitted together and she squeezed her eyes shut as he repeatedly hit that sweet spot deep within her. God, it felt good. He felt good. “Come for me, cariño…”

And so he did, but not without making sure she did first.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Now, they both lay in bed all sweaty with nothing but the sheets covering them. They were much too hot for the blankets. Cheryl had her head on Dean's chest, she was listening to the beat of his heart and tracing little shapes on his skin with her fingertip. They were silent for a long while, only trying to catch their breaths. Cheryl snuck a glance at the clock, it was just a little past one in the morning.

Dean was warm, she liked that. “I had fun, did you?” Cheryl asked finally.

“Yeah – I mean, hell yeah,” Dean said quickly. He rubbed her shoulder back and forth and smiled faintly. He did like it, his dreams couldn't even compare to the real thing. It was amazing. “Did you, uh, feel safe?” He asked.

“Yes, I did. Thank you.”

“Don't thank me, jus’ doing my job as a good boyfriend.” He chuckled softly.

“I guess so, I still appreciate it,” Cheryl whispered. Dean nodded slowly and began to thread his fingers through her hair, gently playing with it. “Can't wait to do that a-fucking-gain. You're awesome in bed.”

“I barely did anything… you should wait until I finally blow you, I get nothing but compliments.” She snorted.

“Well damn, babe. You got me all excited now.” He grinned and waggled his brows.

Cheryl rolled her eyes playfully and smacked his chest, “We're not going again tonight, I'm tired.”

“Okay, okay, tomorrow?”

“Maybe if you're on your best behaviour, now I'm gonna go pee before I fall asleep. I don't want a UTI.” Cheryl sighed as she reluctantly climbed out of bed. She plucked Dean's discarded shirt off of the ground and pulled it over her head. He caught a glimpse of her tattoos before – but he wasn't focusing on them. He saw the faded and blown-out red axe on her hip, and the small lilies on the side of her ribs. Dean didn't think to look for the tattoo she said was under her breasts. “Stealing my shirt, huh?” He grinned.

“Isn't that what a girlfriend is supposed to do?”

“Yeah, guess so. You gonna steal my boxers too?”

“Can I?”

“Go for it, girls are hot in a guy's boxers.”

Cheryl smiled and put on his boxers before jumping into bed to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “Am I hot in your boxers?” She asked in a breathy whisper. Dean nodded fervently and set both of his hands on her ass, he liked how it felt. “Yeah – hell yeah, fuckin’ sexy.”

“Mmm, good…” She kissed him again before slinking away. “I'll be back, just gonna piss and wash my face.”

“Don't keep me waiting.” Dean winked.

“Wouldn't dream of it.” Cheryl smiled.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Dean inspected a ship in a bottle carefully, he angled it around and closed one of his eyes so he could peek inside it. He always wondered how they got the ships inside of the bottles. Cheryl was to his left, Carlos to his right, and they were both talking about the pattern of the ghost; he killed those who had spilled their families' blood. Now that they knew who the ghost went after, they could confirm their safety. None of them had murdered their family members, and they could say that with confidence.

Frantic knocking began to sound at the door, and it soon turned into pounding when they didn't answer fast enough. Carlos groaned and pushed himself up from his spot, “I'm comin’, I'm comin’,” Carlos huffed as he opened the door. When it was none other than a panicked-looking Bela on the other side of the door, he was quite tempted to slam it in her face. She raised her hands pleadingly, “Please! Just let me explain!” She begged.

Now, Dean circled Bela like a hawk ready to kill at any sudden movement. Bela sat in one of the chairs drawn to the middle of the room, her hands in her lap. “I sold it. I had a buyer lined up as soon as I knew it existed.” She said. Dean clenched his jaw as he made it behind her back, and he discreetly made a shooting motion with his two fingers above her head. She fucked them over and made Cheryl feel stupid. As far as he knew, she was no better than dead.

Sam cocked a brow and folded his arms over his chest, “So the whole reason for us going to the charity ball was…?”

“I needed a cover,” she shrugged, “you were convenient.”

Sam sighed, “Look, you sold it to a buyer. Just go buy it back.” He also wanted nothing to do with her, he had the same feelings about her as Dean. Bela's lips thinned, “It's halfway across the ocean, I can't get it back in time.”

“In time for what?” Cheryl finally asked. Bela hung her head and closed her eyes as she sighed deeply. Now this was straight-up karma. “I saw the ship.” She confessed. Dean's brows shot up and he scoffed, “You what?” He began to chuckle and slowly shook his head, “Wow, you know, I – I knew you were an immoral thieving con artist bitch, but just when I thought my opinion of you couldn't get any lower-”

“What are you talking about?” She interrupted.

“We figured out the spirit's motive,” Cheryl began smugly with her arms crossed, and Sam raised a photo of a period-dressed man for Bela to see, “this is the captain of our ship. The one who hung our ghost boy.” She said.

“So?” Bela scoffed.

“So they were brothers. Very Cain and Abel. So now our spirit, he's going after a very specific kind of target – people who've spilled their own family’s blood. See first there was Sheila who killed her cousin in the car accident, and the Warren brothers, who murdered their Father for the inheritance. And now you.” Cheryl shrugged. Bela paled and her jaw went slack, so that's why the spirit chose her. “Oh my God…” She breathed. Dean smirked and began to circle her again, taunting her. “So who was it, Bela? Hmm? Who'd you kill? Was it Daddy? Your little sis, maybe?”

“It's none of your business.” She spat.

“No? Right. Well, have a nice life – you know, whatever’s left of it,” he slapped her on the back and made his way to the door, he plucked his jacket off of a hook, “let’s go, guy's.” He huffed.

Dean also took Cheryl's coat off the second hook and handed it to her, just as Bela jumped to her feet with wide eyes. “What?! You can't just leave!” She exclaimed.

“Watch us,” Dean growled.

“Please,” Bela begged, “I need your help.”

“We don't owe you shit, why should we?” Dean asked with a scoff. Bela didn't reply, she only hung her head and fiddled with her fingers nervously. He was right, they didn't owe her anything, but she still needed help.

Carlos’ lips thinned into a straight line, he felt bad for her, pity, almost. “You do realize you sold the one thing that could save your life?” He asked.

“I'm aware.” She replied sadly.

“Well,” Sam sighed and he looked at both Cheryl and Dean before continuing, “maybe not the only thing…”

––––––––––––––––––––––––

The moon rose high in the sky, full and reflecting a light luminous glow. The five of them surrounded a grave where they had five tall candles lit and flickering with two small bowls in the centre. Cheryl had drawn a pentacle with white chalk around the setup, and put some herbs into one of the bowls while Sam poured some thick red liquid into the second bowl.

Bela huddled into her jacket and silently cursed herself for not wearing a warmer jacket. Dean was leaning against a bigger gravestone, a Glock in hand. She shivered and glanced at Carlos then Dean. “Do you really think this is gonna work?” She asked.

“Almost definitely not.” Dean sighed. Thunder crashed and it quite quickly began to pour, the wind whistled painfully and cut through their clothes. Cheryl gasped and shivered, she hated the cold, and she hated it even more when her hair got wet when she wasn't washing it. Dean stood up straight and glanced around, clutching the gun tight in his hand. “Sammy! You better start reading!”

And so he did. “Aziel, Castiel, Lamisniel, Rabam.” Sam called upon them before continuing to chant in Latin. Carlos knew Latin among many other things, he and Sam had made sure this ritual was the real deal before they used it. Carlos and Sam were both the smart ones. The rain somehow grew heavier and thunder boomed. Cheryl gasped as a familiar heavy feeling in her heart and ringing in her ears set in. Before the phantom even made itself known, she knew where it was and that it was here. “Dean! Behind you!” She screamed over the pouring rain. Dean's eyes widened and he whipped around just as their ghost boy dressed in pirates clad materialized. So her ability to sense ghosts really did work.

But before he could do anything, the ghost had whipped him back by some unforeseeable force and knocked him into a far tomb. The phantom persisted, however, he wafted over to Bela and placed one of his cold dead hands on her face. Bela began to cough up water – a lot – and she fell to her knees, clutching at her throat desperate for air. Carlos grunted and glanced back at Sam, his curly locks now sopping wet. “Read faster!” He yelled before he sprinted over to kneel next to Bela. He set either of his hands on her arms, helping her through her heaves.

Thankfully, the rain was starting to die down and Bela wasn't coughing as much – but the spirit was still here. A loud creak like an old door opening sounded and the pirate's eyes narrowed. He slowly turned, only to be face-to-face with his brother. The one who hanged him, who betrayed him. His nostrils flared and he clenched his jaw, “You hanged me!” He boomed.

“I'm sorry.” That was all his brother said.

“Your own brother.”

“I'm so sorry!” The ghost grit his teeth before charging his brother with a primal yell. As the two collided, a giant splash of water engulfed the two of them before they disappeared.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Dean and Sam were packing up the last of their things in the main room quietly. Dean made sure to hide the box of condoms he bought this morning by putting a t-shirt over it. Now that he and Cheryl were having sex (great sex, by the way), they had to be safe – they didn't want a baby, after all. A baby right now may be the worst thing that could happen. He knew she wouldn't get an abortion being Catholic and all, unfortunately.

The front door swept open and in strolled a much better looking and well-rested Bela. She grinned, “You boys should learn to lock your doors. Anyone could just barge in.”

“Anyone just did. Did you come to say goodbye or thank you?” Sam asked.

“I've come to settle affairs.” She said before tossing them each a stack of money and then one each for Cheryl and Carlos. “Ten thousand, that should cover it. I don't like being in anyone's debt.”

“So ponying up ten grand is easier for you than a simple thank you?” Dean asked. Bela smiled faintly and Dean scoffed before shaking his head. “You're so damaged.”

“Takes one to know one. Goodbye, lads.” Bela hummed as she turned to leave them.

Sam sighed and focused his attention on the stack of money she gave each of them. “You have to admit, she has style.” He said.

“I suppose,” Dean replied.

“Hey, where are Cheryl and Carlos anyway?”

“Dunno, said they'd be back soon though.”

Cheryl passed the blunt back to Carlos and exhaled slowly. “So, Alejandro wants us to come to New York? He say why?” She asked.

“Said he's super busy with surgeries and needs help getting rid of a ghost in his new house, nothing serious,” Carlos answered before taking a drag. Getting high was one of their favourite things to do together – plus, they weren't sure if Sam and Dean were cool with it. Cheryl nodded slowly and bit her lip hard, he was her best friend – her partner in crime – literally. She couldn't resist not telling him about her and Dean any longer.

“Dean and I are dating… we have been for two weeks now…” She whispered. Carlos’ eyes widened and he coughed on the smoke that he inhaled – so bad that he began to turn red. Cheryl gasped and smacked his back a few times, hoping it'd help. “It's not that shocking! You're so dramatic!”

“Uh, yeah it is. You managed to keep a secret from me for two weeks?”

“Yeah… I'm surprised too.” She trailed off. Carlos narrowed his eyes and swiped his tongue across his lips as he stared at her. She had a boyfriend – and he hated the guy, but if she was happy, he was happy for her. “So… what have you guys done?” He asked.

“Well… normal couple stuff, I guess? I don't know what you're asking.”

“Have y'all fucked?” He deadpanned.

“That's none of your business!” She hissed.

“Oh! So you have! My, my, Cherry, look at you!” Carlos teased. Then, he got an idea. A wonderful idea.

“Why don't Sam and I go up to New York? And you and your boyfriend have alone time?” He waggled his brows and grinned.

“You'd do that for us?”

“I'd do that for you, not him. But, yeah.”

“Carlos… gracias…”

#supernatural #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #spnfandom #dean winchester x oc #Spotify

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hollowsart · 1 month

Text

kept forgetting to post these, but here, some silly scenarios and out-of-context moments & more with (my) Guy Gardner & Feste that I wrote up for @arcade-writing :) ;)

==(Warning: This is an EXTREMELY LONG POST)==

--(tfw you start shipping your friend's self-insert with canon.. Guy/Feste is so real and official in my heart and soul cuz it's so funny, and I really wanna share some of these snippet things I wrote cuz they're just too good to keep to myself)--

(Anyways, when I say this is long, I MEAN IT)

===

Guy: Guy Gardner works alone! Ain't nobody worthy of workin' alongside me, you'll all just slow me down--

Feste: -walks in-

Guy: the ONLY guy worthy of workin' with me is sweet cheeks, here! -puts his arm around Feste's shoulders, giving a little squeeze, and kisses his cheek- I ain't accepting ANY offers. Ain't nobody could or ever WILL replace my best man!

Feste: ❔❔❔❔❔

----

Guy: Can I stay the night with you? I don't have the energy in me to go to mine. I just…… I just wanna….. cuddle for awhile… if that's alright with you…?

Feste, realizing just how bad Guy is doing: I will destroy whatever made you this way, just give me the word… but after we've had some sleep. You look awful.

Guy: ..Thanks.

----

Guy slicks his hair back and upwards one time at the beach, it's all wet and he makes a joke to Feste like "Hah, whadda y'think of my new hairdo?"

Feste looks like he's gonna be SICK. The utter horror that Guy did his hair in a way that looks like how Feste has envisioned in his nightmares.

Feste storming up to him, smacking his head and then quickly ruffling the hair until it sits like a bowlcut again and then kissing him and holding his face firm to look at him like "NEVER do that again."

Guy is confused and flustered, but he promises.

----

Guy: You wanna go blow up some asteroids later? I wanna see what that ring can do!

Feste: Oh, it's a date!

Guy:

Guy, faltering, ears going red but his face isn't: What

----

Guy: So why're you called 'Feste'? is it like some kinda self given title, like an ironic wordplay for the fact you're a Pink Lantern? I thought all you guys were supposed to be all 'ohhh la de da, mwuah mwuah I love life, I love you, and you, and you, and everything~' but you're more like when love festers and dies.

Feste:

Feste: ………Yeah, haha. yeah that's totally the reason. Pretty cool, right? festering love…

Guy: Yeah.

Feste: So what about you? Why's your name 'Guy'? Sounds pretty generic and bland compared to your gaudy personality.

Guy: GAUDY?! WHY YOU-- Ergh.. No. My parents named me that. Guess I was just a disappointment to everyone since birth. Hah.

Feste:

Feste: Are you okay, Guy? Do you wanna talk about it?

Guy:

Guy: ………..No. I'll be fine.

Guy:

Guy, puffs out his chest: Well now I'm THE Guy. The Guy everyone talks about! I'm THAT Guy! SO my parents can SUCK ON IT. ~'PathETIC PUny GArdnEr'~ is no more! If they could see me now, they'd be soiling their pants at what I'm capable of! I'm doin' more work savin' the world and more than that lousy old man has in all his years as a cop!

Feste:

Feste: Are you done?

Feste: Guy……have you ever considered your parents are idiots and their opinions don't matter?

Feste: do I need to kill them for you?

Guy: I thought you guys didn't kill?

Feste: I can make an exception.

Feste: I killed out of love and star sapphire has tried to kill Hal, I think I can kill your parents

Guy: Hal probably deserved it. Ah. Nah. Y'don't gotta kill'em. For all I know they're probably long gone by now, or on their way out, at least. Haven't seen or spoken to'em in years.

Guy: Good riddance, I say.

----

"Feste of Earth, your heart is so very lonely. Come. Join us and you will find your heart full once more in time. There is a great sense of love within you. With us, we shall help you to unlock that potential, to feel what it is that you desire. You will. find Love."

Feste: I'm sorry. W H A T

Star Sapphire: Feste of Earth, allow me. -leans down to caress his face and read into his heart and mind-

Feste: uhhhh uuhhhhhhhhhh

SS: I see what it is your heart desires. We shall heal you. This may take some time, however, as the universe is vast.

Feste: huh?? okay???

Guy Gardner on earth just stepping out of the shower:

Pink Ring: Guy Gardner of Earth--

Guy: WHOA HOLY &^#@$&@^#$^$@#?!??!

Pink Ring: --You are whom we seek. For there is one who is need of you.

Guy: The @#^$&# are you on about??

Pink Ring: Come. Accept this ring and see for yourself.

Guy: ..You gotta be ^&#@%&# me. I already got a ring -walking to retrieve the green ring on the table- I think I'm good now #%^$@# off--

Pink Ring: I am afraid you have no choice. This is an emergency of the heart and soul.

Guy: WAIT WAIT WAI--

Guy gets YOINKED by the pink light and the ring nestles itself onto his wedding ring finger, his outfit changes and he gets portaled to Feste.

Guy's Pink Ring: Feste of Earth. Your heart and soul's match has been found. May you both find comfort in each other's love.

Feste & Guy:

----

Guy: I got a scar from taking an imitation toy parachute for a joy ride when I was 8. didn't go so well, got a scar on my head from it, you wanna see?

Feste: you what

Guy: Yeah! Look! I jumped off and landed wrong, snagged my head real good-- check it out!

Guy: -brushes his hair out of the way and leans down so Feste can see the scar-

Feste: I thought they hit you for stealing it-- that's kinda disappointing.

Guy:

Guy: How dare you.

----

Feste sits in his room, getting ready for a surprise night out with Guy. He tossed out some verbal hints, but never right out said where they were going, but Feste could only assume it had something to do with cowboys. Still, Feste was going to dig through what he had to find something to fit the theme.

He was halfway dressed and digging through his dresser when he heard the door open, a sound of boots with the spurs that one could never mistake following suit. Feste looked up to see Guy leaning on the door frame with his arm, the other propped up on his quirked hip, legs crossed. He was dressed like a fancy cowboy, green suit with matching stetson and all. The tassels swayed from his movement.

"Y'ready, par'dner? We're gonna be late if y'don't get yerself dressed. C'mon, we're goin' to a rodeo bar. It's hoedown night an' they got th'bull out. Y'don't wanna miss that, now do ya?"

Feste shuddered at the accent Guy was putting on. If it weren't for their date, he'd have half a mind to jump him right then and there. Grab that stupid bolo tie and matching belt buckle, too--

"Come on, Feste! Don't tell me yer gonna be wearing just some jeans and a t-shirt. Don't you have anything, y'know.. more appropriate?"

"Why would I have--"

"Y'know what? I'll buy you one on the way! Get your shoes on and grab your stuff and let's go!"

Guy was a little too excited for this.. it was kind of cute, Feste thought.

----

Feste in the Lantern break-room one early morning, pouring some juice or whatever, they hear the door open and glance to look, but it turns into a double whiplash take as they see Guy Gardner walking in completely shirtless in only his boxers, a pair of ridiculous socks, and some slippers. he's shuffling in yawning, stretching with one arm behind his back while the other is scratching that happy trail from to navel to waistband.

bro doesn't even acknowledge Feste, just cracks open the fridge after scratching the light shadow on his face, grabs a carton of milk with a cheap tape and sharpie label on it with his name and starts chugging it, free arm resting on the top of the fridge door. he finishes, puts the cap back on, stuffs it back in the fridge, shuts the door and FINALLY looks over to see Feste.

"'Sup.. Didn't know anyone else would be up this &^%$ early." his voice is still groggy and has a slight gravel to it. and for once, he doesn't sound agitated.

----

Feste, questioning how this man can even survive, making up theories in his head about how he is and junk when he's back on earth:

Guy, on earth, walking with some lackluster groceries back to his place: -kicking garbage and using his ring to put it in the trash, shouting at a guy for bumping into him and almost getting into a fight about it-

Feste, watching: I was so right

Guy: -sees a kid trying to get something out of a tree on the side of the street- HEY! Hey! What do you think you're doin'?! -runs up and grabs the kid out of the tree-

Feste: Oh no -readies his ring-

Guy: That's dangerous! You could've fallen and gotten hurt or worse, you could've went crashin' into the busy street! You're lucky ole Guy Gardner's got his eyes on this city, kid! Ain't nothin' gonna slide past this Green Lantern! What're you tryin' to get outta that tree anyway?

Kid: -points and looks sad- sorry Mr.Gardner Green Lantern, sir..

Guy: Ah, it's nothin', kid, no worries. I got this, just you watch! -shifts them to his hip as he uses his ring to fly up and gets the thing down for them, handing it right to them- There now, y'see?

Kid, being placed back on the sidewalk: yay! Thank you!! You're so cool!!

Guy: It's nothin', kiddo, now I want ya t'promise me y'won't go climbin' anymore trees like that, y'hear? I don't want any o'you runts gettin' hurt doin' somethin' stupid like that. And.. -squats to the kids height and talks a little quieter- I may be a Green Lantern and we don't feel fear, but don't you go tellin' anybody you heard this, but you got me scared for a minute there!

Kid: Whoa.. Really?! I'm sorry! I promise!! I pinky promise I won't go doin' anythin' like that again! -holds out their hand-

Guy, laughs and gives them the pinky promise: Yeah, that's a good kid! Now run along and play safe!

Kid: Okay! Thank you again!! bye!!

Feste:

#ghostie mumbles #//long post #guy gardner #green lantern #pink lantern #my gosh this is such a beefy post holy crud

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