#halo broken circle

[monitorchakas]

Please clap reblog the polls to spread the outreach numbers

[bloodgulchblog]

No one:

Me, kicking the door down: By 2558 the Ussan Sangheili (a splinter population that had never joined the Covenant) recovered from Refuge had several years to re-integrate with the rest of Sangheili civilization, and they had never bowed to Covenant control and their entire history had let them resent Covenant occupation.

SO, when Cortana's Forerunner soldiers showed up to occupy the Sangheili again.

I think they would've had some extremely cool shit to say.

[hiaennyddei]

is the King in Yellow phallic or yonic ? Discuss. [i am sent to the Dreamlands for 20 years]

Design notes under the cut !

John :

his coat has 2 layers. the outside is always the same shape, the inside is a mess of fabric that doesn't make much sense and whose shape changes depending on what he needs.

his outer cloak separates in 4 large ribbons that act more or less as legs. they're very strong but not very agile.

there's a darker ribbon going from his hood down his back that acts roughly like a tail. he uses it for balance (like a cat), mobility (like a snake), or attack (like a scorpion) depending on what he needs

thin ribbons float and wrap around his arms, and some more can come from his inner cloak. they act as precision limbs.

his hands look human-ish, but very bony and with short claws. the skin feels like porcelain.

he usually has 4 hands out, but can remove or add some as needed.

the brooch on his cloak has the same sigil than the one on his book

the teeth in his mouth are ivory-white

some areas of him are always in complete darkness (the inside of his hood, the deep folds of his cloak). you can only ever see the outline of his face.

the cloak is part of his body as much as the arms, possibly more so

the halo/crown melts more the more he strays from godhood. it is always tilted towards Arthur. (it built back up to an extent during his stint in the dark worlds in s3, then started melting again)

the crown's spikes always point straight up, regardless of how tilted the crown is

King in Yellow :

Some common points with John : hooded cloak with sharp tails, yellow, ribbons/tendrils, vertical mouth, crown, jewelry, bony arms, some areas are comletely in darkness, obscured face, glowing eye(s)

Some differences : John's yellow is warmer ; John has fancy embroideries, King is much more uniform ; John's cloak has natural folds, King's looks more geometrical ; John's eye is bright all the way in, King's is dark at the center like a black hole ; John's hands are human-like, King's has two opposable thumbs like owl talons

Generally they have similar building blocks (cloak, yellow theme, ribbons/tendrils...) but John is warmer, has more human traits, and is generally more organic/more natural-looking.

The King's crown has two points broken off (one for John, one for Yellow)

If you stand in front of the king it always looks like light is coming from behind him, so the side you see is always is semi-darkness and the cast shadow is always on you. If you could circle around him, the shadow would follow you like a compass

The hands are more "puppeted" additions than actual body parts

Yellow :

Basically the King in Yellow forced into a situation of weakness and fragile humanity

Shade of yellow is closer to the King's than John's

Coat's cut has the sharpness and geometry of the King's, but it's imperfect and has visible folds

Crown is broken as representation of his weakness, but unlike John's it's forcefully and neatly broken instead of melted

Him having hands is representative of being forced into a human, but they still take inhuman shapes with two opposable thumbs

Makes a point to keep up appearances, hence the jewelry and coat patterns, but doesn't have the King's glory

Has two eyes because he has Arthur's

Has the king's monstruous tendrils, but a lot more disorganized and more fabric-y than shadow. They spill out of the area where his coat's symetry is broken.

[joelsrose]

Guns and Roses: Chapter 5

Masterlist

Summary: You wanted nothing to do with Joel, determined to keep your distance after everything that had happened. But when a new threat to Jackson arises, you're forced to put aside your anger and work together. What starts as a reluctant alliance quickly becomes a test of survival, pushing both of you to your limits and uncovering feelings that are impossible to ignore.

TW: swearing, blood, fighting, broken bones, mentions of death, insinuation of s***** abuse, knives, guns, being tied up and gagged, physical violence, blood

also in this story the dining hall has a bar in it to avoid confusion lmaoo - ALSO to everyone who hates joel i understand he is evil sometimes and reader will not forgive him easily i swear some of yall never want her to forgive him but this is a slow burn!! So pls accept some affection ok ily enjoy

13k words i know im crazy - enjoy

The cool night air hit your skin as you stumbled out into the darkness, but it did nothing to soothe the searing ache in your chest. Each breath came in ragged gasps, your cheeks slick with the tears that refused to stop. The world around you blurred, Jackson's streetlights turning into hazy, shimmering halos as you half-ran, half-staggered your way home. But no amount of distance could drown out the sound of Joel’s voice echoing in your mind—sharp, cutting, merciless: Always in the way. I could never be with someone like that.

The words played over and over, slicing deeper each time, as if trying to carve out whatever fragile hope you had let yourself hold onto. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, as though the pressure alone could stop the hurt from swallowing you whole, but it was a losing battle. The more you tried to suppress it, the more it surged, threatening to burst out in uncontrollable sobs.

Why did I ever let myself believe things could be different? you wondered bitterly, swiping at your tear-streaked cheeks with trembling hands, the frustration twisting inside you like a knife.

Why did I let myself get close to him, let my guard down again?

You had clung to the small moments—his lingering gaze at the lake, the unexpected warmth in his touch—as if they meant something, as if he had really cared. But it was all an illusion, shattered in a single breath, a single sentence that now echoed like a cruel taunt.

The walk to your house seemed to stretch on forever, each step a reminder of how foolish you’d been, each breath another blow to your already bruised heart. It was embarrassing, too—knowing that Maria and Tommy had witnessed everything, that the entire bar had seen you storm out with tears streaking down your cheeks. You thought you’d grown past this—past letting anyone reduce you to a mess of trembling hands and tear-stained eyes. But here you were, crumbling under the weight of rejection, your mind spinning with a relentless torrent of what-ifs and should-haves.

Why did I ever think I could be more to him? You chastised yourself, your thoughts spiraling. Why did I let him in at all?

You reached your front door, your vision so blurred with tears that it took you several tries to fit the key into the lock. When the door finally gave way, you stumbled inside and shut it behind you, the latch clicking into place with a finality that only seemed to deepen the loneliness pressing down on you. Sliding down to the floor, you hugged your knees to your chest, burying your face as the sobs wracked your body. It was as if all the pain you'd been fighting to keep at bay had come crashing down at once, and now there was no holding back.

You cried until there were no more tears left to fall, until the ache in your chest was replaced by a hollow numbness.

Yet one thought remained, circling endlessly in your mind:

Why did I ever think I could be enough for him?

It wasn't just the pain of rejection—it was the devastation of having let yourself hope, only to be reminded of how small and insignificant you felt in the eyes of the person you had dared to let your guard down for. And that, more than anything, was a wound that cut too deep to heal.

•••

“What the hell was that, Joel?” Tommy’s voice cut through the lingering tension like a knife, sharper and angrier than Joel had heard in a long time. He took a step closer, his entire body rigid with fury. The broken glass still lay scattered across the floor, the beer pooling around the jagged shards, a stark reminder of what had just happened.

Joel rubbed a hand over his face, his voice rough and low as he spoke. “I didn’t know she was there,” he muttered, his gaze darting to the door you had fled through, as if he could will you back to explain himself. But he couldn’t meet Tommy's eyes; shame had already begun to settle like a heavy stone in his chest.

Tommy threw his hands up, the gesture dripping with exasperation. “Well, she was,” he snapped, his voice climbing with each word. “Jesus, Joel, when did you turn into such a goddamn asshole?” He raked his fingers through his hair, the frustration etched in every line of his face. “She didn’t deserve that—none of it—especially after everything.” His voice faltered at the end, the anger breaking, revealing a raw edge of something deeper, something more personal.

Joel’s frustration flared, his hands curling into fists. “You kept pushin' me on it, Tommy!” he shot back, his tone edged with defensiveness. “I didn’t—”

“Stop,” Maria interjected sharply, stepping forward with a look that was equal parts anger and disappointment. Her gaze flicked down to the shattered glass at their feet before locking onto Joel, her voice hardening. “That’s not an excuse, Joel. You didn’t just hurt her—you broke her.” The word hung in the air, sharp as a knife, cutting through the tension and daring him to look away.

Joel's jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he searched for any justification, any explanation that could make sense of what he’d just done. But the words wouldn’t come. The truth was lodged too deep, tangled in a place he didn’t know how to reach without tearing himself open. His throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, the weight of Maria's words landing like a blow. “I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he said quietly, his voice raw and unsteady. “I just—” But even as he spoke, the rest of the sentence seemed to slip away, lost in the silence that followed.

“Then why did you?” Maria's voice softened, though the disappointment still lingered in her eyes. She tilted her head, studying his face as if searching for answers in the lines of his furrowed brow and the shadows beneath his eyes. “What is your problem with her, Joel? Because from where I’m standing, your words and your actions don’t add up.” Her gaze deepened, probing further as his head hung low, the weight of guilt pulling him down. “I saw you at the lake today—whatever’s going on between you two, it’s not nothing. But you keep pushin’ her away, like you’re scared of what’ll happen if you don’t.”

Joel's mind raced, the weight of his mistake pressing down harder with every breath. His hands dropped to his sides, clenching and unclenching in a futile search for something solid to grasp, but they felt heavy and useless. His gaze stayed fixed on the broken glass scattered at his feet, but all he could see was the look on your face, replaying in his mind like a wound that refused to close. He had to physically squeeze his eyes shut, as if trying to block out the image that had seared itself into his memory.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Tommy’s voice broke through the tense silence, softer now but edged with a grim finality. “You better figure your shit out, Joel,” he said, his tone carrying a weight that made the words hit harder. His finger pointed sharply, underscoring the gravity of what he was saying. “Find a way to make this right, because if you don’t, you’re not just losin’ her. You’re losin’ us, too.” There was a quiet threat woven into his words, an ultimatum that laid bare all the bridges Joel was dangerously close to burning.

Tommy's words landed like a punch to the gut, leaving Joel reeling. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his thoughts churning with a mix of regret and something that twisted in his stomach, making him feel sick. But as his gaze fell back to the mess of shattered glass and spilled beer, a grim determination took hold. One thing was certain: he had to find a way to fix this, no matter what it took.

•••

You couldn’t say how long it had been since that night at the Tipsy Bison. The days bled into one another, a blurry procession of empty hours, each blending seamlessly into the next. The only sign that time was still moving was the growing pile of empty cups and plates cluttering your side table—a silent testament to how deeply you’d withdrawn from the world outside. You ignored the calls, the handwritten notes Maria slipped under your door, and even the bowl of fruit Ellie had left on your porch, topped with a cartoon dinosaur exclaiming, “Get up, ya fossil!” It had made you smile, if only for a fleeting second, before the familiar heaviness sank back in. Ellie, blissfully unaware of the events that had unfolded between you and Joel.

You knew you shouldn’t have shut them out. Maria, Tommy, Ellie—they hadn’t done anything wrong. They were your family, the closest people you had in this place. But you couldn’t bring yourself to respond, couldn’t summon the strength to open the door and face their concern. Because if you did, you might have to admit that you weren’t okay.

And the truth was, you weren’t.

You hadn’t left the house in days. The thought of stepping outside, of running into him, twisted your stomach into knots. Some might call it pathetic, and maybe it was—maybe you were hiding from a problem that you should have confronted head-on. But every time you even thought about walking out that door, the memory of Joel’s voice—his cold, dismissive tone—resonated in your mind like a bitter echo, sending you spiraling back into the hurt you’d been trying so hard to avoid.

How could you face the world when his words were still fresh in your ears, like open wounds you couldn’t heal? Always in the way. I could never be with someone like that. They looped in your mind, over and over, until the doubt became something almost tangible, wrapping around your heart like a vine, squeezing the life out of it. You had started to wonder if he was right—if you were a burden, someone who didn’t belong.

So you stayed inside, pacing the small space until you knew every creaking floorboard by heart, staring out the windows as the sunlight shifted across the room, bringing with it the constant reminder that life outside was moving on without you.

Maria had left notes, her handwriting slanted and rushed, as if written between tasks. “We miss you, please call,” one had read. You’d crumpled it in your fist the day you found it, but hadn’t been able to throw it away. It still sat on the table, a small, wrinkled reminder of the people who were trying to reach you. Tommy had come by too, knocking softly and calling your name, his voice gentle. You hadn’t answered. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you couldn’t bear the thought of opening the door and seeing pity in his eyes.

But despite all of their gestures—Maria’s notes, Tommy’s knocks, Ellie’s quirky little gifts—he hadn’t come to see the mess he’d made. Joel Miller hadn’t made any effort to check on you, to face the aftermath of the hurt he had caused. That, in some twisted way, almost made it worse. It was like you weren’t even worth the apology, as if your hurt didn’t matter. The silence from him was deafening, each day that passed without so much as a word deepened the wound.

It felt deliberate. Like he’d said what he needed to say, like he’d hurt you on purpose, and then walked away, leaving you to pick up the pieces alone.

You were angry—no, furious—not just at him, but at how thoroughly he had managed to upend your entire life. Before Joel, things made sense. You had your place here; Jackson was a sanctuary, a place where you could heal, and Tommy and Maria were the family you had chosen. But now, because of him, everything felt off-balance, as if the ground had shifted beneath your feet. Ever since you met him, the way you saw yourself had completely changed, and you hated it. You couldn’t even face the people you loved, not when the thought of running into him hung over every decision like a dark cloud, suffocating any sense of normalcy you’d tried to hold onto.

The worst part wasn’t just that he had dismissed you so easily—it was that you had allowed him to get close enough to hurt you in the first place. You had let down your guard, let yourself almost believe in him, and in doing so, you’d given him just enough space to break you. Now, you were paying the price for that mistake, and it was a steep one. It felt as if he’d reached inside your chest and torn out the part of you that still dared to hope for something more, leaving behind a hollow ache where that hope used to live.

You had decided you were done with Joel Miller.

Done with his gruff indifference, done with trying to make sense of the rare, fleeting moments when he seemed to care, only for him to snatch it all away the next moment. You couldn’t keep going back and forth, couldn’t keep letting yourself hope for something that was never going to happen.

You were done giving him the chance to hurt you again.

•••

It was almost as if they had planned an intervention. Tommy and Maria knocked on your door, and even though you didn’t answer, it didn’t stop them. They knew you too well; knew you wouldn’t let them in, but they came prepared.

The sound of the door creaking open downstairs carried up to your room, followed by Maria’s voice—playful yet edged with firmness. “You shouldn’t leave a pregnant woman waiting,” she called out, her footsteps echoing in the quiet as they made their way through the house, up the stairs, and down the hall to where you lay.

You were sprawled out on your bed, the blinds shut tight, casting a dim, muted glow over the room. It was stifling, the air thick with your despair. When Tommy and Maria entered, they took in the sight of you: hair unkempt, eyes shadowed with exhaustion, the same clothes you’d been wearing for days clinging to you. The blankets were tangled around you, a pile of untouched books and empty mugs crowding your bedside table. You hadn’t even bothered to pick up the crumpled note Maria had slipped under the door days ago, which now lay discarded on the floor.

Tommy’s gaze swept over you, his expression hardening with concern. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. He stepped closer, kneeling by the bed as if he could physically draw you out of whatever dark place you had sunk into. “Hey, kid,” he said, his voice softer now, but heavy with worry. “How are you?”

You didn’t respond at first, your eyes flicking up to meet his before dropping away again. “What are you guys doing here?” you mumbled, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself as if it could shield you from their concern.

Maria hovered in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, her brow creased with worry. She took in the state of the room—the mess, the dimness, the weight of defeat hanging over you—and sighed. “Just checking up on you,” she said gently, her voice laced with that familiar warmth. “We’re worried.”

Tommy nodded, exchanging a quick glance with Maria before turning back to you. “How about we go out tonight, huh?” he suggested, his tone striving for lightness even as the concern slipped through. “Just dinner—nothing fancy, I promise. But you need to get some fresh air.” His brow furrowed slightly, the worry deepening in his eyes. “Have you been eating?”

“Yeah, let’s get you out for a bit,” Maria added, stepping closer to your bedside and gently brushing a few strands of hair from your face. “It’ll be good to get some fresh air, get out of this dark room for a while.” She tried to offer an encouraging smile, but there was a quiet plea in her eyes, a silent insistence that told you they weren’t leaving without you.

You hugged your knees to your chest, turning your face away from their worried expressions. The thought of going out felt overwhelming, like stepping back into a world you weren’t ready to face. It wasn’t just about Joel anymore; it was about everything—the quiet hurt that had seeped into the cracks, the loneliness that had settled over you like a heavy fog these past weeks. It felt easier to stay in the safety of this dark room than to confront everything waiting for you on the other side of the door.

“I don’t know…” You trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

Tommy leaned in a little closer, his voice soft but resolute. “Come on, kid. Just one dinner, that’s all we’re asking,” he coaxed, his tone carrying a gentle insistence. “You don’t have to say a word if you don’t feel like it. We just miss you, that’s all.” There was a quiet sincerity in his eyes, a warmth that reached out to you even as you pulled further inward.

You didn’t need to ask if Joel would be there; you already knew he wouldn’t. They wouldn’t put you through that—not after everything that had happened. But as you hesitated, the anxiety was clear in your eyes, and they noticed the way your fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket, clinging to it like a lifeline.

Tommy cleared his throat, a reassuring tone creeping into his voice. “He’s on patrol,” he said, as if that settled the matter, not even needing to mention Joel’s name for you to know exactly who he meant. “He won’t be around tonight. You don’t have to worry.” His words hung in the air, offering a small measure of comfort, a quiet assurance that at least one thing would be a little easier to face.

You nodded slowly, the tight knot of anxiety in your chest loosening just a little. The thought of facing Joel was still too raw, too close to the surface, but maybe—just maybe—you could manage to face Tommy and Maria. They were trying to help you, reaching out with open hands to pull you out of this darkness, and it wasn’t fair to keep shutting them out. They didn’t deserve to be kept at arm’s length when all they’d done was care.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Just dinner.”

Maria's relief was palpable as she gave you a small, reassuring smile, squeezing your hand gently. “Just us tonight,” she promised. “No surprises.”

It should have comforted you, and in a way, it did. But even as you nodded, a shadow of doubt clung to you, the world beyond your door still seeming too bright, too unforgiving. No matter how hard you tried to push it away, the ghost of Joel Miller lingered in the corners of your mind, a reminder of everything you were trying to forget.

But maybe tonight, you could let it go—even if just for a little while.

•••

Dinner was at the dining hall, where the familiar buzz of conversation and the clink of glasses filled the air. You sat at a small wooden table, dimly lit by the flickering glow of candlelight that cast soft shadows across the room. You didn’t say much, and that seemed fine by Tommy and Maria, who carried the conversation with an easy rhythm, filling the silence for you.

The meal was simple but comforting: steaming bowls of hearty stew with a side of freshly baked bread. Tommy and Maria seemed content just to see you eating, casting the occasional glance your way as you slowly picked at your food. Tommy's grin widened as he spoke about the baby, his excitement palpable even though it was still too early for Maria to be showing. His hand rested lightly on her arm, and he beamed like a proud father already, talking about all the things he couldn’t wait to teach their child—fishing, horseback riding, even passing on his collection of bad jokes that made Maria roll her eyes but secretly smile.

You found yourself quietly listening, letting their warmth and hope wrap around you like a safety net, offering a small reprieve from the heaviness that had been weighing you down. For just a moment, you allowed yourself to sink into their joy, let the sound of their voices ease the ache in your chest. You could almost feel the tension slipping away, replaced by the comfort of their laughter and lighthearted banter. Just for a moment, you allowed yourself to forget—forget about the heaviness pressing on your heart, forget about Joel and all the hurt that came with him.

But then, the door to the dining hall swung open, and the moment shattered.

There he was—Joel. He looked awful, with dark circles under his eyes that suggested he hadn’t slept in days, and his hair was a mess, sticking out in uneven tufts as though he’d been raking his fingers through it in frustration. His beard was thicker and more unruly than usual, as if he’d stopped bothering to trim it, letting it grow out in uneven patches.

The mere sight of him sent your heart plummeting to the floor. He hadn’t seen you yet, hadn’t even glanced in your direction as he stood at the bar, his broad shoulders and familiar figure casting a long shadow over the room. He was nursing a whiskey, his back turned to you, and there was something about the way he stood—his frame tense and hunched, as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders—that made it impossible to look away. The sight of him was a punch to the gut, stirring up everything you’d tried so hard to bury.

Your hand trembled, and the fork slipped from your grasp, clattering onto the plate with a loud clink that seemed to echo through the room. Maria’s eyes darted toward you, concern flickering across her face as she followed your gaze. Slowly, she turned until her eyes landed on Joel, standing alone at the bar, his back still turned.

“Tommy…” Maria whispered, her voice tense and low, a quiet urgency in the way she said his name.

Tommy, who had been caught up in the conversation, turned in his seat to look over his shoulder. His easy smile faded the second he spotted Joel. His brow furrowed as he watched the scene, and he shifted in his seat, angling himself to block your view as if to shield you from the sight.

Maria leaned in close, her voice soft and urgent. “We can leave, honey,” she murmured. “He hasn’t seen us yet. We can duck out before he notices.” Her hand rested lightly on your arm, ready to guide you away, offering a quiet escape from the situation unraveling before you.

Tommy nodded in agreement, his voice gentle but edged with concern. “Yeah, we can head somewhere else. Go back to ours, maybe?” He kept his gaze on you, ready to leave at a moment’s notice, his worry evident in the way he searched your face for any sign of what you needed.

But you shook your head, swallowing hard against the lump forming in your throat. “No,” you said, the word coming out firmer than you’d expected. “I’m not letting him ruin our night.” There was a defiance in your voice, a spark that flared up despite the heaviness in your chest. You weren’t going to let Joel take this from you, not when you’d finally managed to step outside and try to find some normalcy again.

Maria’s hand tightened around yours, and she exchanged a worried glance with Tommy, but neither of them pushed further. You tried to focus on your meal, but your appetite had long since disappeared, the bitter sting of seeing Joel even from across the room making it impossible to ignore the knot tightening in your chest.

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to swallow the flood of emotions threatening to rise. “I’ll be fine,” you whispered, more to reassure yourself than them. But even as you said the words, you couldn’t help but feel the undeniable truth that Joel Miller had already changed everything—and you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to forgive him for it.

As the night wore on, you found yourself glancing over at the bar again, despite your best efforts to focus on anything else. Joel had turned slightly, his profile now visible. His expression was a mix of exhaustion and something else you couldn’t quite place.

It was infuriating—how he could be there, so close yet so distant, as if nothing had happened, as if you weren’t sitting just a few feet away, struggling to hold yourself together. The sight of him drinking alone, looking every bit the picture of the gruff, haunted man he always seemed to be, made your heart clench with a confusing mix of anger and something else you weren’t ready to name.

You turned back to Tommy and Maria, who were watching you closely, their faces etched with concern. You forced a smile, tried to push the emotions back down, and focused on the easy conversation again. But even as you pretended not to care, you couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how hard you tried, Joel Miller had already woven himself into your life, and there was no going back.

“I’m full,” you said, pushing your plate aside with a dismissive gesture.

Then, a determined edge crept into your voice. “Let’s get drunk.”

It was as if you were daring the night to offer you something else to focus on, something to drown out the thoughts swirling in your mind. Maria and Tommy shared a brief, uncertain look, but they didn’t argue. Maria gave a small nod, and Tommy signaled for another round, silently agreeing to let you decide how the rest of the night would go.

•••

The alcohol dulled the sharp edges of the hurt that had lingered for weeks, numbing the ache in your chest and quieting the voice in your head that kept replaying his words. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t the healthiest way to cope, but right now, you didn’t care. It was working, and that was all that mattered.

Yet, every time you caught sight of Joel—alone in the corner, nursing his drink with a distant look in his eyes—it sent a fresh wave of anger and hurt crashing through you. He hadn’t seen you yet, oblivious to your presence, which somehow made it worse. It wasn’t fair that he could sit there as if nothing had happened, like he hadn’t shattered your heart and left you to pick up the pieces. It wasn’t fair that he seemed so at ease while you were struggling to keep yourself from falling apart, each breath feeling like a battle you weren’t sure you were winning.

You threw yourself into the night—into the drinks, the laughter, and the comforting noise that filled the bar. As you scanned the room, your gaze landed on a familiar face: Sam, one of the residents Tommy had tried to set you up with a few months ago. You hadn’t given him a chance back then, though it wasn’t because he wasn’t attractive. He was—tall and lean, with dark hair that fell messily across his forehead, a boyish grin, and a dusting of freckles that stretched across his cheeks like a constellation. His crooked smile had a way of lighting up his entire face when he laughed, giving him an easy charm that was hard to ignore.

Back then, you’d been too fragile, nursing wounds that hadn’t even started to heal. The idea of dating felt impossible, even unfair—like dragging someone else into the mess of your heartache. So when Tommy had suggested introducing you to Sam, you’d politely declined, knowing deep down that you weren’t ready to let anyone in.

But now, seeing Joel across the bar—his presence stirring up the hurt you were barely managing to keep at bay—awoke something reckless inside you. You wanted him to notice you, to see you with someone else, to know that his words hadn’t broken you. Even if he didn’t want you, you wanted to show him that someone did, that you weren’t just the damaged person he’d left behind - broken and bruised.

The dim lighting of the bar and the haze of alcohol softened the edges of Sam’s face, giving his eyes a darker, more inviting warmth. There was a quiet confidence about him, an easy charm that almost dared you to take a chance on something new. In that moment, all you wanted was to feel desired—by someone who didn’t see you as a burden. Maybe it was impulsive, maybe it was even a little spiteful, but you couldn’t shake the need for Joel to see it.

You leaned closer to Tommy, doing your best to keep your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you. “Hey,” you said, nodding subtly in Sam’s direction. “See that guy over there?”

Tommy followed your gaze, his eyebrows lifting in surprise when he spotted Sam. “Sam?” he asked, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, that’s him. What about it?”

You shrugged, aiming for casual even as your pulse raced. “Think you could introduce me?”

Tommy’s surprise gave way to a slow, knowing smile. “Well, well,” he chuckled, the amusement clear in his tone. “Looks like you’ve had a change of heart.”

“Maybe,” you replied, forcing a playful smile to your lips. “Figured it’s worth a shot.”

Without missing a beat, Tommy waved Sam over, and you watched as he navigated his way through the crowd toward your table. Your heart pounded with a mix of nerves and anticipation—not just because you were about to meet Sam, but because you were keenly aware that at some point, Joel’s gaze would inevitably land on the two of you. There was a certain thrill in that thought, a defiance simmering just beneath the surface. You wanted him to see this, to see you moving on from his words, even if it was just for show.

As Sam approached, you straightened in your seat, a more confident smile spreading across your lips.

For once, you wanted to be the one in control, to be the one who chose to walk away on your own terms.

•••

Sam was kind, cute, and effortlessly charming—the kind of guy who could put anyone at ease. As he settled into the chair across from you, his crooked grin and playful eyes made slipping into the rhythm of conversation almost too easy. He had a way of making you laugh, keeping the mood light and flirty, even as the drinks you’d had earlier started to blur the edges of the night. But beneath the surface, something was missing. You could sense it, a faint tug deep inside, reminding you that despite his charm, you didn’t feel anything real. It was as though you were going through the motions, trying to convince yourself of a spark that simply wasn’t there.

“So,” Sam said, raising his drink with a playful glint in his eye, “Tommy tells me you’re quite the rider. I guess I’ll have to see for myself one of these days.”

You shrugged, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “I’m alright,” you replied, your tone carrying a hint of challenge. “But I’m not exactly volunteering to give you any lessons.”

He chuckled, leaning in closer, his gaze sweeping over you with a clear spark of interest. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to earn that, then,” he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur, adding a quiet heat to his words that lingered in the air between you.

It was obvious he was into you.

His hand lingered on your arm, his eyes glinting with something more than casual interest, and his attention never wavered from you. A part of you welcomed it—the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room. It felt good to be seen, to be desired, even if only for a night.

You wished his words had an effect on you, wished they stirred the butterflies caged in your stomach. But the flutter never came, and you could only feel the emptiness where that spark was supposed to ignite. There was a hollowness there, an emptiness that no amount of attention from Sam could fill. The ache inside you hadn’t faded; it had merely dulled to a hum in the background.

You glanced away from Sam, and your eyes found Joel once more. He was still at the bar, in the same spot he'd occupied for what felt like hours, nursing a whiskey. But now, he wasn’t alone. A blonde woman—pretty, with an easy smile—had appeared beside him, leaning in close, her hand lightly resting on his arm as she spoke. The sight sent a pang through your chest, a sharp reminder of how everything had unraveled. It wasn’t quite jealousy—it was something darker, a bitter realization that while you were struggling to pick up the pieces, he seemed to be doing just fine.

Maybe that was the type of woman Joel preferred. What did it matter? You told yourself it didn’t, but the truth was painfully clear—it did. The thought twisted in your chest, pushing you to act.

“Let’s dance,” you said abruptly, shoving back your chair and reaching for Sam’s hand, desperate to be anywhere but sitting still, anywhere that would let you forget, even if just for a moment.

Sam grinned, springing to his feet as if he’d been waiting for you to make the first move. He followed you onto the small dance floor, where only a handful of others swayed to the music. His hands settled on your hips, pulling you closer as the beat pulsed through the dimly lit room. For a few moments, you let yourself get lost in the rhythm, the thrum of the music, and the warmth of the liquor coursing through your veins. Sam guided you, his body pressing closer with each sway, his breath warm against your cheek as he leaned in.

As you spun around, the world blurred, but through the haze of lights and music, you caught sight of Joel across the bar. Everything else seemed to fall away. His gaze was locked on you, dark and unflinching, with an intensity that sent a jolt through your veins. It wasn’t the indifferent, dismissive look you’d grown used to; it was raw and unguarded, as though he couldn’t quite mask whatever was simmering just beneath the surface. Anger, jealousy, hurt—you couldn’t tell, but the emotion was unmistakable, etched in the hard line of his jaw and the darkness of his eyes. It reached across the room, pulling you into its grip, and a shiver raced down your spine, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

For a moment, the room around you seemed to dissolve, leaving just the two of you locked in a silent, electric exchange. Joel's gaze seared into you, and your pulse quickened, a volatile mix of defiance and something far more tangled swelling in your chest. You didn’t even know what you were hoping to find in his eyes—regret, maybe, or longing—but there was something there, something that made it hard to breathe.

Without thinking, you turned and grabbed Sam, pulling him into a kiss. He hesitated, surprised for a heartbeat, but then leaned into it, his hands tightening around your waist as if he’d been waiting for this all night.

When you finally broke away, your gaze flicked back to Joel, and for a heartbeat too long, you held his stare. He had seen everything—every movement, every breath—and you knew he hadn’t missed the way you had thrown yourself into Sam's arms, as if trying to prove something. To him, to yourself—you weren’t sure.

And then, just like that, Joel was gone, slipping through the back door and vanishing into the night before you could fully register the emptiness left in his wake.

Sam’s voice broke through your thoughts, concern softening his tone. “Everything okay?” he asked, leaning in closer to catch your eye.

You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as brittle as it felt. “Yeah,” you lied. “I’m fine. Let’s keep dancing.”

You kept dancing with Sam, but the moment Joel disappeared from the bar, the illusion of control you had clung to crumbled, leaving you feeling hollow. The music pulsed around you, Sam's hands gripped your waist, and yet it felt all wrong—like you were trying to use him as a lifeline, but the rope had already frayed. You needed air, needed to escape the suffocating haze that seemed to cling to you.

“Let’s go outside for a bit,” you said abruptly, pulling away from Sam.

“Sure,” he replied, his eyes glinting with anticipation, as if he thought this was the moment things would get interesting.

You stumbled into the cool night air, your head heavy from the alcohol and the heat of the bar. You scanned the surroundings, your gaze flicking around for Joel—pathetic as it was, some part of you couldn’t stop searching for him. But he wasn’t there, and you weren’t sure whether that made it better or worse. The sharp breeze did little to soothe the chaos roiling inside you.

Sam was close behind, his footsteps crunching on the gravel. Before you could say anything, he was already there, his hands gripping your waist as he pressed himself closer.

“Let’s find somewhere private,” he murmured, his lips grazing your ear as his fingers tightened around you.

Your body tensed, a cold dread slithering down your spine. “Sam… wait,” you said, your voice barely a breath. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

He chuckled, a rough, dismissive sound that sent a shiver down your spine, making your skin prickle with unease. His grip tightened as he shoved you back against the wall, the cold surface pressing into your shoulders. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice hardening with a dangerous edge. “You’ve been all over me tonight. Hell, you just kissed me. Don’t act like you’re not asking for this.” The words dripped with entitlement, twisting the air around you into something dark and suffocating.

Your thoughts swam, disoriented by the alcohol and the sudden, unsettling shift in his tone. It was like a jolt of ice water spilling over you—the stark realization that he wasn’t the charming, kind guy you’d thought he was. His hands moved lower, rougher, pinning you against the wall as panic clawed its way up your throat. You struggled to gather your bearings, but the situation seemed to close in around you, suffocating and dark. Where the hell was Tommy? you thought desperately, your pulse thundering in your ears.

“Stop it, Sam,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with fear. “I said no.”

But he didn’t stop. His mouth grazed your neck, and his grip tightened painfully, digging into your skin as he leaned in closer. “God, you’re all the same,” he sneered, his breath hot and foul against your ear. “Act all innocent, but deep down—”

This can’t be happening. Panic surged through you as you tried to push him away, but your arms felt like lead, your mind clouded and sluggish.

“Get your fucking hands off her.”

The voice sliced through the night like a blade, low and vibrating with barely contained fury. Before you could even process what was happening, Sam was wrenched away from you, his body hitting the ground with a brutal thud.

Joel.

He loomed over Sam, his chest heaving, every muscle tense with rage. His fists were already clenched, knuckles white under the dim light. “She told you to back off,” Joel growled, his voice a dangerous rumble that seemed to shake the very air around you. His eyes burned with a fury so raw it was almost terrifying.

Sam scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with a volatile mix of anger and fear. “What the hell is your problem, old man?” he spat, stumbling back as he tried to regain his footing. His lip curled into a sneer, a flash of defiance in his gaze. “Go to hell,” he snarled, and without a second thought, he swung his fist at Joel.

The punch connected, snapping Joel’s head to the side, but he barely flinched. In an instant, he surged forward, seizing Sam by the collar and driving him down onto the gravel with a bone-rattling force. The crack of Sam’s head against the ground echoed sharply in the still night air.

Joel didn’t hesitate.

He dropped to his knees, pinning Sam beneath him as he unleashed a barrage of brutal blows—once, twice—the sickening thud of bone meeting flesh reverberating through the darkness. Blood sprayed across the gravel, and Sam’s body began to go limp, his resistance fading under the relentless, punishing force of Joel’s fists. But Joel didn’t let up, a feral rage burning in his eyes as each strike landed with merciless precision, as if he were trying to erase the very memory of Sam's touch.

“Joel, stop!” you screamed, your voice desperate and raw, but it was as if he didn’t hear you. His rage had taken over, his eyes dark and wild, completely consumed.

At last, Joel grabbed a fistful of Sam's shirt, yanking him up until their faces were mere inches apart.

“If you ever come near her again,” he snarled, his voice low and rough with barely restrained fury, “I swear to God, I will fuckin' kill you.” His words dripped with venom, a promise as much as a threat. Then he shoved Sam away, letting him crumple back onto the gravel in a limp, trembling heap.

Panting heavily, Joel straightened, the fury that had consumed him moments ago ebbing away as his gaze fell on you. The sight of you—pressed against the wall, cheeks streaked with tears, your entire body trembling—seemed to drain the fight out of him in an instant.

Concern flashed in his eyes, raw and unguarded, chased swiftly by regret. His hands, bloodied and still shaking at his sides, hung there uselessly, as if unsure of what to do. All he wanted was to reach out and cradle your face in his hands, to wipe away the tears and assure himself that you were okay. But he stayed rooted where he was, afraid to cross the distance, afraid he might break whatever fragile thing existed between you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and rough with emotion, a jarring contrast to the violence that had just shattered the night. The tenderness in his tone was almost painful, as though each word scraped against something deeper that he couldn’t quite bring himself to say. His eyes searched yours with a desperation he couldn’t hide, needing to know that you weren’t as broken as he felt.

But the space between you seemed to grow, an unspoken divide filled with all the things left unsaid—the reckless rage, the bruised history, and the unbearable longing he could never quite put into words. His hands trembled with the urge to reach for you, to close the gap, but instead, he stayed frozen, the ache in his chest echoing in the silence between you both.

The question hit you like a blow. How dare he act like he cared now, after everything he’d put you through? The ghost of Sam’s touch still clung to your skin, making your stomach twist with revulsion, and the adrenaline surged bitterly in your throat.

“Fuck off, Joel,” you snapped, your voice cracking as you scrubbed at your tear-streaked cheeks. “I don’t need you to protect me. I don’t need you to save me.” The words came out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t care. Anger burned behind every syllable, masking the pain that roiled beneath.

Joel’s expression tightened, his jaw clenching as a flicker of hurt crossed his eyes before he could bury it. “He was gonna—” he started, his voice rough, as if he was struggling to explain himself.

“I don’t care,” you cut him off, your voice trembling with fury and something deeper, something you refused to name. “You don’t get to just swoop in and play the hero after treating me like I was nothing.” Your breath hitched, words breaking apart like shattered glass. “You don’t get to decide when I need saving, or when I need anything from you.” Each word tasted bitter on your tongue, leaving a raw ache in your throat as they spilled out.

Joel’s face tightened, frustration simmering just below the surface. “You’re drunk,” he said quietly, almost like he was trying to convince himself as much as you. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” you shot back, your voice cracking. The tremor in your hands betrayed you, giving away the storm raging inside as you struggled to hold back the tears. “Just like you knew what you were doing when you said those things.” The sob that escaped your throat made the words rough and ragged, but you forced yourself to keep going.

“You can’t treat me like garbage one day and then show up the next, acting like you give a damn.” Your breath shuddered, your voice breaking again.

“I don’t need your pity, Joel. I don’t need anything from you.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving, and you saw the way they hit him by the way his expression faltered, his eyes narrowing as if he were bracing himself against the blow. But he didn’t fight back, didn’t offer a single word in his defense. He just stood there, his breath heavy and uneven, the night swallowing up whatever he might have said. The look in his eyes was haunted, as though he knew he deserved every bit of your anger and more.

You didn’t wait for him to recover. Without another glance, you turned on your heel, stumbling toward the entrance of the dining hall. Each step felt unsteady, the warm night air doing nothing to clear the fog in your mind. It was as if the world had narrowed down to just you and the echo of your own ragged breaths, the silence growing louder and louder the further you walked from him.

Something had broken between you and Joel—something fragile that had barely held together to begin with. It splintered under the weight of all the hurt, leaving shards you weren’t sure could ever be mended. And as you walked away, a voice whispered in the back of your mind, small and bitter: Was there ever anything worth salvaging at all? The question lingered, twisting painfully in your chest, as the distance between you and Joel stretched wider with each faltering step.

•••

A few days had passed since the night outside of the dining hall—since Joel had saved you, yet again. But the anger hadn’t faded; if anything, it had deepened, festering like an open wound that refused to heal. You replayed the events over and over in your mind—the shame, the fear, the helplessness.

It was a vicious cycle, one that left you feeling more fractured with each passing day.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sharp ring of the phone. You snatched it up, the tension already twisting in your gut. The voice on the other end was laced with urgency.

"Hey, we got a big problem," Tommy’s voice crackled through the line, sounding uncharacteristically frazzled.

Your stomach dropped. “What is it, Tommy?”

“Some of our patrol didn’t make it back.��� His voice was grim, a heavy silence hanging in the air. “They’re hours overdue, and we haven’t been able to reach them on the radio.”

There was a pause on the line, a faint crackle filling the gap. “Could be raiders,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “Could be worse. We don’t know what’s out there.”

He took a breath, the sound faint but telling. “Whatever it is, it’s getting close to Jackson’s perimeter.”

His tone sharpened, urgency seeping through. “We need to head out today and figure out what the hell is going on,” he said, his words heavy with the weight of the unknown. “We can’t afford to wait any longer.”

Your pulse quickened at the thought of the community—your home—being in danger. The idea of losing more people, of watching the fragile safety of Jackson unravel, filled you with a dread that settled like a stone in your chest.

“When are we leaving?” you asked, already moving to pack your bag. You grabbed your rifle from its place by the door, the familiar weight of it a small comfort as you slung it over your shoulder.

•••

By the time you reached the stables, Tommy and Maria were already there, saddling the horses with grim determination etched into their faces. Joel was there too, cinching the strap on his saddle, and the sight of him stoked the simmering anger you’d been harboring. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it—there was too much at stake. A few of the other men stood nearby, their expressions tense as they readied their own mounts. The atmosphere was thick with urgency and unspoken fear; everyone understood what was at risk.

“I’m coming with you,” Maria said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument as she adjusted the strap on her saddle.

Tommy turned to her, his face drawn with worry. “Maria, you can’t go. Not in your condition.”

She shot him a stubborn look, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m pregnant, Tommy, not helpless,” she snapped.

The concern in Tommy’s eyes was unmistakable, and you could see the conflict written all over his face. Maria was strong, no doubt about it, but the risk was too great, and he wasn’t about to put her or the baby in harm's way.

“Maria,” you said gently, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “Stay here. You’re needed more in Jackson, with the baby—and with Ellie. The rest of us can handle this.”

At the mention of Ellie, Joel’s head snapped up, a reaction you caught from the corner of your eye.

Maria’s gaze met yours, her expression hardening for a moment as though she was ready to argue. But beneath the defiance, you could see the worry—the fear of what might happen out there. After a tense pause, her shoulders sagged, and she let out a resigned breath. “Fine,” she whispered, her voice tight with strain. “But you all better come back in one piece. I swear to God if anything happens to you, I'll finish the job myself.”

You gave her arm a squeeze before turning back to the horses, a sense of urgency propelling you forward. As you swung up into the saddle, you could feel Joel's gaze still lingering on you, but you refused to meet it.

As you rode away from the safety of Jackson, a knot of unease tightened in your stomach, growing with each step your horse took. It wasn’t just the threat looming out there in the woods—it was the unsettling reality that once again, you were heading into danger with Joel by your side.

But this time, it was more than just your life hanging in the balance; it was the lives of people you cared about, people who depended on you to make it back safely. The weight of that responsibility pressed down on you, and the thought of having to trust Joel when so much was at stake sent a bitter taste to the back of your throat. Yet there was no turning back now. Whatever lay ahead, you’d have to face it—and face him—whether you were ready or not.

•••

The silence between your group was unsettling, broken only by the soft clop of hooves on the dirt path and the whisper of leaves rustling overhead. The tension hung in the air, thick and stifling, like the oppressive heat that lingers before a storm. This wasn’t just another patrol; it was a dangerous mission, and you could feel it in the way everyone gripped their reins a little tighter, their weapons kept close at hand.

Your rifle rested against your shoulder, its weight both a comfort and a constant reminder of the stakes. You kept your focus on the path ahead, doing your best to ignore the occasional glances Joel sent your way. His gaze was hard to miss, like a heat at your back, but you refused to acknowledge it, steering your horse closer to Tommy’s for a semblance of reassurance.

As the path began to curve, Tommy raised his hand, signaling everyone to slow. The horses came to a cautious halt, hooves shifting restlessly in the dirt. Up ahead, just beyond a small ridge, you spotted the outline of a structure—a dilapidated farmhouse with boarded-up windows and a sagging barn beside it, both looking as though a strong wind could knock them over.

But there was movement around the buildings. Flickers of shadows, a brief glint of metal in the fading light. Your heart sank as the realization hit you like a cold wave.

“Shit, there’s a bunch of them,” you breathed, your voice low and tense. The words hung in the heavy air as the reality of the situation settled in—there was no turning back, and whatever waited beyond the ridge was about to test every ounce of resolve you had left.

“Could be more,” Tommy muttered, his eyes scanning the area. “Shit, we need a plan.” He glanced over his shoulder at Joel, who had edged his horse closer, positioning himself beside Tommy.

Joel’s voice was steady, despite the tension simmering in the air. “We’ve gotta be smart about this. Can’t just go in guns blazing. If our people are in there, we risk hitting them by mistake.” His gaze swept over the group, calculating the best course of action. “Here’s what we’ll do. The three of us”—he gestured to you, Tommy, and himself—“will circle around to the west and try to get a look inside. The rest of you, keep a lookout here and be ready to provide cover if things go south. Understood?”

The others nodded in silent agreement, the urgency clear on their faces. Without wasting another second, you adjusted your grip on the reins and urged your horse forward, following Joel and Tommy as they led the way toward the ridge. Your pulse quickened, each step drawing you closer to the farmhouse and whatever waited beyond. There was no room for hesitation now; you could only hope that the plan would hold, and that you’d find your people alive.

You dismounted and quickly tied the horses out of sight, then followed Tommy and Joel on foot, moving silently under the cover of the trees. As you approached the farmhouse, the three of you ducked low, creeping closer to the building’s side.

“Jesus Christ,” Tommy breathed, his voice barely a whisper as he peered inside through a crack in the boarded-up window. You crouched beside him, your pulse thundering in your ears, and saw what had caused his reaction.

The familiar sight of your men lay before you—bound and bloodied, their faces pale and bruised. The dim light inside the farmhouse revealed them slumped against the wall, barely conscious, while armed figures paced nearby, rifles slung over their shoulders. Your heart clenched at the sight, a mix of dread and anger surging through you.

Tommy turned to you and Joel, his expression grim. “Alright, here’s the plan,” he whispered, his eyes darting back to the captured men inside. “We split up. Joel, you head around back and take out the guard by the barn. You,” he nodded to you, “stay here and keep an eye on the entrance. If anyone makes a move, you take the shot. I’ll go in through that side door, see if I can get to our guys and cut them loose.”

Joel gave a curt nod, his jaw clenched tight. “Be quick about it,” he said, already shifting towards the barn.

Here's a revised version to heighten the build-up and emphasize the tension:

Tommy glanced at you, his voice low and urgent. “Don’t engage unless you have to,” he warned, his gaze flickering to the farmhouse. “We need the element of surprise.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry, and nodded. The air felt thick, almost suffocating, as you positioned yourself by the corner of the building. Every breath seemed louder than it should have been, and the seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. You watched Joel vanish around the back, his silhouette blending into the shadows, while Tommy crept toward the side door, his steps deliberate and noiseless.

You gripped your rifle tighter, the slickness of sweat coating your palms. The plan seemed simple enough, but as the silence dragged on, a chill of doubt began to coil in your chest. What if this was a trap? What if they were waiting for you?

Just as Tommy reached for the door, a sudden crash exploded from inside the farmhouse, followed by the chaotic sound of shouts. Your pulse surged, panic seizing your chest as you saw a figure lunge toward the entrance, rifle raised. Instinct took over—you swung your weapon up, finger tightening on the trigger, and fired. The crack of the shot shattered the silence, and the man crumpled to the ground, but the noise had blown your cover.

The night erupted in chaos. Shouts filled the air, followed by the staccato of gunfire. Two figures burst from the back of the barn, weapons blazing. You fired again, catching one of them in the chest, but the other dove behind a stack of crates, unloading his clip in your direction. You pressed yourself against the wall, heart pounding in your ears as bullets tore through the wooden boards just inches from your head.

But then everything went terribly wrong. As you fended off one of the advancing men, swinging your rifle like a club to knock him off balance, you didn’t notice the other sneaking up behind you until it was too late.

A cold blade pressed against your throat, the sharp edge biting into your skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood. Panic surged through you as you froze, your pulse hammering in your ears.

“Drop your gun!” the voice snarled, his breath hot and foul against your ear, his arm clamped around your waist, trapping you against his chest.

In an instant, Joel whirled around, his gun snapping up, aiming squarely at the raider's head. His eyes were wide, and you could see the fear flashing there, a stark contrast to the deadly calm in his voice. His heart must have been pounding in his chest as fiercely as yours, but his grip on the gun remained steady.

“Let her go,” he growled, the roughness in his voice betraying a hint of desperation, sounding more like a plea than a command. His gaze burned with an intensity that could cut through steel, and you caught the subtle movement of his finger inching closer to the trigger. The tension in his stance was palpable, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

The man sneered, the cold steel of the blade biting into your skin as he pressed it harder against your throat, a sharp sting radiating out from where the edge threatened to break the surface. “What’s the matter? She your girlfriend or somethin’?” he taunted, his breath hot and foul against your ear. His gaze drifted over you with a lewd grin that made your skin crawl, a sickening wave of revulsion twisting in your gut. “She’s a pretty one… bet she’d be real nice to take for a spin.” His voice dropped to a menacing murmur. “Maybe I’ll do you a favor and—”

“Don’t,” Joel cut him off, the word like a whip crack in the night, edged with a barely restrained fury. His voice was a dangerous growl, but you could see it—the hesitation flickering behind his eyes. He couldn’t shoot. Not like this. The risk of hitting you was too great, and the weight of that possibility hung heavy in the air.

"Joel, it's okay," you began, reaching out to reassure him. But before the words could leave your lips, a sudden, searing pain shot through Joel’s leg. One of the other men had crept up from behind, driving a knife deep into his thigh and twisting it viciously. Joel cried out, collapsing to one knee as the world blurred around him. He tried to raise his weapon, but the agony ripped through him, and his grip slackened, the gun slipping from his fingers. His strength was ebbing fast, and darkness crept in at the edges of his vision.

“Joel!” you screamed, your voice raw with panic as you struggled against the hold of the raider dragging you away. You kicked and twisted, desperate to break free, but it was no use. The grip around your arms tightened, pulling you backward as the chaos of the moment swallowed you whole.

The last thing you saw before everything went black was Joel crumpling to the ground, blood spreading like a dark stain beneath him, his eyes flickering shut as he lost consciousness. Then the darkness took you, too.

•••

Joel awoke sometime later, his clothes clinging to him, soaked with sweat and blood, his skin clammy and pale. The cold, uneven ground pressed against his back, and a dull, throbbing pain pulsed from his leg, radiating up his spine. His head pounded as he struggled to piece together where he was, each breath ragged and shallow.

Through the haze of confusion, a voice broke through—Tommy’s. Joel blinked, his vision swimming as he saw his brother crouched beside him, his hands stained red as he frantically wrapped a torn piece of cloth around Joel’s leg, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding.

“Tommy…” Joel’s voice was barely more than a rasp, rough and broken. He tried to push himself up, but his strength failed him, and he collapsed back onto the ground, his pulse racing with a sickening dread. “Where is she?” The words escaped in a desperate whisper, as if they were being torn from his chest. He didn’t need to say your name; the urgency in his voice made it painfully clear who he was asking about.

Tommy’s face was a mask of grim resolve, but his eyes betrayed the pain lurking just beneath the surface. The set of his jaw tightened, his gaze flickering away from Joel’s as though he couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. “They took her,” he murmured, his voice rough and edged with a helpless anger. “I couldn’t—I couldn’t get to her in time.”

The words slammed into Joel like a blow, the breath leaving his lungs in a ragged gasp. For a moment, everything else seemed to fall away—the throbbing in his leg, the cold chill of the air—it all became secondary to the suffocating realization that you were gone. Taken. His stomach twisted with a raw, gnawing fear that was almost unbearable, and a cold sweat broke out across his skin.

“I have to find her,” Joel choked out, his voice splintering with a desperation he couldn���t contain. He tried to push himself up again, his hands trembling as he braced against the ground, but the agony in his leg sent a white-hot burst of pain through him, forcing him back down.

Tommy placed a firm hand on Joel’s shoulder, his grip steady but trembling slightly from the adrenaline coursing through him. His voice was low and urgent. “You can’t move, Joel. You’re losing too much blood.” His fingers tightened, pressing down as if to keep Joel anchored in place. “If we don’t get that leg treated, you’re not gonna make it.”

“I don’t care,” Joel growled, his voice fierce despite the weakness seeping into his limbs. His chest heaved with the effort to draw breath, each inhale laced with panic and fury. “I’m not leaving her out there with them. I’m not—” His voice cracked, the weight of his own helplessness crashing down around him.

But Joel's mind was already spiraling, his worst nightmare unfolding right before his eyes. This was why he’d kept you at arm’s length—why he’d pushed you away with harsh words and cold distance. He’d done it because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, of failing to protect you when it mattered most. And now, despite everything he’d done to keep you away, the very thing he feared was happening.

Regret twisted in his gut, more excruciating than the searing pain in his leg, as the truth crashed over him: keeping you at a distance hadn’t saved you. It hadn’t saved either of you. Because now, you were out there—alone, vulnerable, and for all he knew, lost forever. The thought tore him apart, knowing you might never hear the words he’d kept buried deep, the truth behind every harsh word and cold gesture.

He wanted to hold you in his arms, to tell you everything—about Sarah, about Tess, names he couldn’t utter without his insides twisting painfully, without feeling the weight of all that he’d failed to protect. He wanted you to understand how the scars of his past had shaped the man he was, and why he’d been so terrified of letting you in. But more than anything, he wanted to promise you, right there in that moment, that he would never lose you. That if he could just get to you, he’d fight with every last breath to keep you safe.

•••

When you came to, the world felt cold and unforgiving. The rough texture of rope dug painfully into your wrists, and the taste of cloth filled your mouth, stifling your breath and choking off any cry for help. Your hands and ankles were bound tight, leaving you utterly helpless, and each small movement only seemed to tighten the knots, rubbing your skin raw as you struggled in vain.

Then, the pain slammed into you—sharp and all-consuming. As you glanced down, you saw the unnatural angle of your leg; it was unmistakably shattered. The sight made your stomach twist, and the agony radiating from the broken bone was so intense it seemed to pulse through every nerve, setting your whole body alight with a searing, relentless pain that left you gasping for air.

The dimly lit room reeked of damp wood, sweat, and something sour that twisted your stomach. The rough-hewn walls around you suggested this wasn’t a makeshift hideout—it was an old cabin, likely seized by the raiders as a base. The faint light filtering through a cracked window was just enough to cast long, menacing shadows that seemed to close in on you.

You could hear them outside, talking in low, guttural voices. Their laughter was harsh and cruel, mingled with lewd comments that made your skin crawl.

“She’ll fetch a good price,” one of them drawled, his voice raspy and bitter, like gravel scraping against metal.

“Not sure I wanna sell her just yet,” another one added with a twisted chuckle. “Could have some fun first.”

Their words pierced through you like ice, chilling you to the bone. Panic clawed at your throat, and you bit down hard on the gag to stifle a sob, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. You forced yourself to breathe slowly, fighting the wave of dread that threatened to overwhelm you. There had to be a way out—there had to be—but as you tested the bindings, they only seemed to tighten, the rope digging deeper into your skin.

You were trapped, surrounded by men who saw you as nothing more than an object, a bargaining chip, or worse. The reality of your situation crashed over you, heavy and suffocating. All you could do was lie there, helpless, and wait. Wait and hope.

In the back of your mind, a tiny flicker of hope struggled to stay alive, like a candle flame sputtering in the dark. It was irrational, fragile, but you clung to it desperately. You didn’t know if it was because you believed Joel would come for you, or if it was because the thought of never seeing him again without knowing how he really felt was too unbearable. The last real words between you hung in the air, unresolved and sharp, a bitter reminder of everything you hadn’t said.

The memory of Joel’s fierce gaze, the raw desperation in his voice when he had called your name, played over and over in your mind. You didn’t know if he was hurt, or if he was even alive. But the thought of him out there, somewhere, fighting his way to you, was the only thing keeping that flicker of hope alive. It trembled and threatened to die out, but it persisted, just as you did, lying there in the dark, bound and helpless.

You swallowed against the gag, forcing the tears back, and stared at the crack of light in the cabin’s wall. You didn’t know if rescue was coming, but if there was even the smallest chance, you had to hold on. You had to believe that somewhere, out in the night, someone was coming for you. Because if you didn’t hold onto that hope, the darkness would swallow you whole.

•••

The night was pitch-black as Tommy and Joel reached the outskirts of the cabin. They had followed a grim trail—blood droplets and trampled footprints in the mud—that led them deeper into the woods, the sight of it all turning Joel’s stomach with a sickening dread. Each step brought a mounting urgency that tightened around his chest like a noose, pulling tighter with every breath. Time stretched unbearably; each passing minute felt like an hour, and every crack of a branch underfoot was a cruel taunt from the darkness, as if mocking their desperation.

The cabin loomed ahead, its silhouette jagged and menacing against the night sky. Joel’s pulse hammered in his ears, the sound blending with the whispering wind as it rustled through the trees. His focus narrowed to a single, driving need: to find you and get you out alive. He could feel the weight of that need pressing down on him, pushing him forward even as his body screamed from exhaustion and pain. Nothing else mattered. Not the throbbing agony in his leg, not the icy chill seeping into his bones—only the thought of you, somewhere inside that cabin, waiting to be saved.

The pain in his leg throbbed with every step, searing up through his thigh and making his movements stiff and uneven. His face was pale and clammy from blood loss, sweat trickling down his temples, but he ignored it, gritting his teeth against the pain. Tommy had tried to convince him to turn back, to get medical help before it was too late, but Joel had barely listened. Nothing short of being dragged unconscious would have kept him from coming after you.

“Joel, you’re in no shape to do this,” Tommy whispered harshly, grabbing his arm as Joel stumbled over a root. “You can barely walk.”

“Don’t matter,” Joel growled, jerking his arm free. His voice was hoarse, raw with a desperation he couldn’t disguise. “I’m not leaving her.” His eyes burned with a fierce determination, a reckless glint that bordered on madness. It wasn’t just the thought of you in danger that drove him—it was the thought of failing you, of being too late. The idea of losing you tightened in his chest like a vice, suffocating and unrelenting.

Tommy shot him a worried glance, his jaw clenched. “Alright,” he conceded reluctantly, “but we’ve got to do this smart. We go in quiet, no mistakes.”

Joel nodded, his grip tightening on the handle of his knife as they crept closer to the cabin. The faint murmur of voices drifted through the still night air, each muffled word stoking the fire that burned deep in his chest. His hands trembled—not from the cold breeze or the blood loss, but from the sheer, uncontrollable fury that coursed through him, mingled with a fear so deep it threatened to tear him apart. He forced himself to focus, to push down the panic rising inside him. He couldn’t afford to think about what might be happening to you in that cabin. He had to believe you were still alive, still fighting—because the alternative was unthinkable.

Guilt gnawed at him, the weight of his own words echoing in his mind. This was his plan. If you were hurt—or worse—it would be his fault. The things he'd said, the way he'd pushed you away, only made the guilt press harder against his chest.

But there wasn’t time to drown in that regret. Not now.

Shoving those thoughts aside, Joel clung to one truth: he would tear through anyone standing between him and you. There was no room for doubt, no space for hesitation.

As they neared the cabin, Joel crouched low, his breaths coming fast and shallow. The voices were clearer now—gruff, laughing, too casual, as though this was just another night for them. The sound of it made his skin crawl, and a cold rage swept over him. He edged closer, peering through a narrow gap in the boarded-up window.

Tommy laid a steadying hand on Joel’s shoulder, grounding him, pulling him back from the edge. “Looks like there’s six of them,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent. “Three each. Can’t see her—they must have her deeper inside. And who knows, there might be more.”

Joel gave a tight nod, his jaw clenched so hard it sent a dull ache up to his temples. The muscles in his neck tightened, his pulse a relentless drumbeat as his gaze shifted back toward the cabin. Even without seeing you, he could picture you in there—vulnerable, surrounded by danger. The image ignited something primal and ferocious inside him, a raw need that burned hotter than the pain tearing through his leg or the exhaustion weighing down his limbs.

It wasn’t just the instinct to protect; it was a deeper, darker desperation—a refusal to let anything happen to you, to let anyone touch you or harm you. The thought of you in the hands of those men made his blood boil and his vision blur with a barely restrained fury. There was no room for hesitation, no space for anything but the resolve to get to you, to tear apart anyone who stood in his way.

He whispered a silent promise to you there in the darkness—I’m coming for you. Just hold on. I won’t fail you like I did them.

Joel took a breath to steady himself, the burn of his leg wound fading into the background as the raw determination surged through him. With a final nod to Tommy, they moved like shadows, slipping around opposite sides of the cabin. The night was silent but for the faint murmur of voices inside—voices that would soon be silenced.

Tommy signaled from the far side, his fingers held up in a countdown. Three, two, one—

They burst through the doors simultaneously, weapons raised. Joel’s first shot hit the nearest raider square in the chest, dropping him before he even had a chance to react. The others spun around, scrambling for cover, but Joel was already moving, firing with ruthless precision. The cabin erupted in chaos, gunfire cracking through the air, splintering wood and shattering glass.

A raider lunged at Joel with a knife, and he met the attack with a vicious swing of his own blade, slashing across the man’s throat before shoving him to the ground. Blood splattered his hands, but he didn’t flinch—didn’t even slow.

“Joel!” Tommy’s voice called from the other side of the room as he grappled with a raider, slamming the man’s head against the wall until he went limp. “I think she’s in there!” He pointed toward a heavy wooden door at the back of the cabin, reinforced with a rusted padlock.

Joel's heart pounded as he shoved his way past the last raider, slamming him against a wooden beam before rushing to the door. He fired a round into the lock, the metal shattering as the door swung open.

The sight before him made Joel’s blood run cold. There you were, lying on the floor, bound and gagged, your face pale and streaked with blood. Your leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, the bone jutting grotesquely beneath the skin—a broken, mangled mess. The sheer fragility of you in that moment, so helpless and shattered, knocked the breath from his lungs and sent a cold terror coursing through him.

“Jesus Christ…” Joel breathed, rushing to your side and dropping to his knees. His hands trembled violently as he fumbled to cut the ropes binding your wrists and ankles. His movements were frantic, desperate, and when the last knot fell away, he ripped the gag from your mouth, tossing it aside like it had burned him.

“Hey, hey, it’s me,” he whispered, his voice rough and ragged, trembling as he reached for you. He cradled your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over the grime and blood on your cheeks. “You’re okay now. I’m here. I’m not leaving you.” But the words felt hollow, even to him.

How could he say you were okay when you looked so broken, when your body was crumpled like a discarded doll?

Your eyes fluttered open, dazed and unfocused, and a soft, pained moan escaped your lips. The sound tore at Joel’s chest, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt, narrowing to the hollow ache in your voice. He could feel the panic clawing at the edges of his composure, but he forced himself to stay steady, his hands cupping your face as though he could will some of his strength into you.

“You’re gonna be alright,” he murmured, the words barely holding together as he stroked your hair. “I’m gonna get you out of here.” But there was a crack in his voice, a desperation that slipped through despite his best efforts. He couldn’t stop looking at the jagged break in your leg, the sight of it making his gut twist with guilt.

I should’ve been here sooner. I should’ve protected her.

He tore his gaze away from you just long enough to shout over his shoulder, “Tommy! We need to get outta here, now!” His voice was raw, urgent, echoing through the cabin like a desperate plea. He looked back at you, and his eyes held a fierce, unspoken promise. “Just hold on for me, alright? Stay with me.”

But he could see you slipping—the way your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open, the life in your gaze dimming with each passing second. Panic clawed at his chest as he reached for you, as if his touch alone could keep you tethered to him.

Tommy’s footsteps pounded closer, his voice tight with concern as he entered the room. “Jesus, Joel, she’s in bad shape. We need to move now.”

Joel nodded, his jaw clenched with grim determination. “I know. Help me lift her,” he said, his voice barely steady. His hands were gentle but firm as he slid them beneath you, his touch trembling with the effort to keep his emotions in check. “We’re gonna get you somewhere safe,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve got you, baby.”

The word slipped out, raw and unguarded, a reflex that seemed to rise from some deep, unspoken part of him. It hung in the air for a moment, catching Joel off guard even as it left his lips. He didn’t dare look at Tommy, but he felt his brother’s gaze shift, a flicker of surprise that didn’t go unnoticed.

But Joel didn’t care. The word was out there now, and it carried with it a truth he couldn’t take back—a truth that had lingered in the space between you for far too long. His grip on you tightened, his breath hitching as he looked down at you, his expression fierce with a mix of tenderness and desperation. “I’ve got you,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. “I got you, darlin’. I promise.”

And as he and Tommy lifted you, Joel’s heart hammered in his chest, the realization settling in with a weight that was both terrifying and undeniable. He had called you baby—and, deep down, he knew he had meant it.

You couldn’t speak; you could only manage a weak nod, the effort draining what little strength you had left. Your throat felt parched, each breath rasping in your chest, and the pain in your leg was a deep, throbbing agony that made it hard to think, hard to even breathe.

Joel’s gaze dropped to your leg, and his stomach clenched at the sight. The bone was badly broken, a jagged protrusion pressing against your skin, and blood had pooled beneath you, soaking into the floorboards. Your skin was cold and clammy to the touch, a chill that seemed to seep into his bones as he realized the full extent of your injuries. He’d have to be careful—one wrong move could make everything so much worse.

“Easy, now,” Joel murmured, his voice low and strained as he and Tommy prepared to lift you. He slid his arms beneath your shoulders, supporting your upper body while Tommy carefully took hold of your legs. The instant they moved you, a sharp cry of pain escaped your lips, and Joel’s heart cracked at the sound, a deep ache settling in his chest.

“I know, I know,” he whispered, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. “I’m sorry, darlin’. We’re gonna get you out of here. Just hold on for me.” His voice was rough with emotion, each word like a plea.

As they stumbled back through the forest, Joel felt his strength waning, the pain in his leg growing sharper with every step, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He would carry you all the way back to Jackson if that’s what it took.

Tommy’s words echoed in the darkness, but Joel barely heard them; he was too focused on you, on the way your body felt so small and fragile in his arms. It wasn’t lost on Tommy—the desperation in Joel's voice, the raw fear etched across his face. It reminded him of a time long ago, a grief and terror that Joel had carried through the years. And now, as they pushed forward, stumbling over roots and through the underbrush, Tommy saw that same haunted look in his brother’s eyes, the kind that spoke of loss too deep to name.

"Stay with me, darlin’," Joel whispered, the words coming out like a plea as he felt your head loll weakly against his chest. It wasn’t just a command—it was a desperate promise, a vow that he would get you to safety no matter what. Each step through the forest felt like a mile, and the sharp pang in his leg was nothing compared to the fear twisting in his gut.

By the time they reached Jackson, you were barely conscious, slipping in and out of awareness. Your breathing was shallow, your skin clammy to the touch, and Joel had to grit his teeth to keep his own body upright as they carried you into the clinic. The warm glow of the lights felt harsh against the night’s darkness, and the doctor rushed in, barking orders and asking questions, the chaos swallowing him whole.

But even as the people swarmed around you, Joel refused to let go of your hand. He stayed by your side, gripping your fingers tightly as though you might slip away if he loosened his hold for even a second. When Tommy tried to pull him aside, insisting that Joel get his own wound looked at, he shook his head fiercely. “I’m not leavin’ her Tommy,” he said, his voice rough with exhaustion and emotion. “Not for a damn second.”

Tommy didn’t argue. He had seen the look in Joel’s eyes, the raw desperation and guilt that burned there—a reflection of a promise too deep to break. So he stayed silent, watching his brother hold onto you like you were the only thing anchoring him to the world, knowing full well that in some ways, you were.

Tag List:

@valkyreally @ccmoonshine @dlwrish @immyowndefender @babygals-world @zenrobbins0021 @malfoycassimalfoy @damneddamsy @atenceladusiaawfytbwb @frogjumps-world @dendulinka6 @orcasoul @whirlwindrider29 @lol-im-done

@somedayheaven @ohdearvalentine @keseqna @kulekehe

@darkheartgatita @ickearmn @spacegirl-3 @mystickittytaco

@sukunnayuuji @jasminedragoon @merm4id5lut @ickearmn

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[petaltexturedskies]

Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight afforded by these wonderful regions, seems still to have the power of elevating his soul from earth. Such a man has a double existence: he may suffer misery, and be overwhelmed by disappointments; yet, when he has retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit that has a halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures.

Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

[r0-boat]

Whb Angelified Chimera!MC Au

Cw: chapter 6 speculation!!, The kings are shooketh, MC felt useless. MC being unhinged and cool. Sfw

The Tartaros lab was swarming with angels, and angelified victims. They were strong. very strong. Even with the demons at your side it was still hard the angels were pushing back and chances of victory seemed grim. You wanted to help! Do something! Put all you could do was go forward while the devils you knew and loved fought behind you, trying to keep the angels at bay as you reached the room containing the fruit... The reason why this was happening in the first place.

The fruit was nothing more than the size of a cherry. Perhaps from all the experiments angels picked at almost clean. But there was still a little bit left. You held the glowing fruit in your hand it's shimmered with a white light beckoning you to taste. Memories flash in your mind. Leamas, Nina, Ppyong witnessing a friendly member succumb to this fruit. But you also remember that the reason why angelification begins is because demons cannot handle its power.... But you were not a devil. You are the child of a powerful sorcerer. You could do this... You are not as strong as Solomon but with this you could protect the ones you love. You could end this war.

So you took a bite...

Your lower body splitting and shifting and growing, you screamed in pain. It hurt, but it was manageable—white fluffy wings sprouting from your back. Your lower body was almost draconic, with a halo around your tail. It fucking hurt like hell, your bones splitting and cracking, your skin ripping and tearing to form hard scales, you're back itchy as white wings begin to sprout.

Wrath surged through you as you busted through the walls The Angel's eyes widened with terror only to be met with your claws. All you heard was their screams until the broken walls and shattered floor were stained with blood and covered with feathers. The demons, the devils who loved you, looked at you with horror, fear almost morning; what had you become?

Leviathan was terrified His heart racing; he could hardly contain it as he clutches his chest. Deep down, he knew what happened in that room, but he could not accept it. You cannot be this stupid to eat the same fruit That caused pain. A part of him wants to smack you across the face for even considering what you did. But another part of him is so worried sick, and all he wants to do is hug you and hold you close and ask you why.

Satan knew... Something was different. Even with the pure wrath circling within him at first but when he looked at you, seem to have calmed. You are not an angelified monster... When he looked into your eyes he didn't see just emptiness, You are still in there. He reached out to touch you as you slowly leaned down-

Only to be cut short my more angels you let out and inhuman noise your white wings spreading to take flight. Your claws smashing a hole in several walls

Satan and Levi are now practically chasing after you. The lab was big but you couldn't have gone far. Sitri agrees with his king that's something is different about you. You only attacked the angels not them. Ppyong is in shambles... He surely hopes that what he fears is not true What is he going to tell Minhyeok...

Mammon is stopping Angels from coming in. He knows that the glass in this facility is unbreakable. He spent good money on this, and it was holding up rather well. Angels were still getting in from the other side. However, he's doing his part to stop more of them from coming in. That smile quickly wiped off his face when the glass shattered what appears to be a giant monster barreling through the window it's white wings and scent messing with his it's angelfication, But he could smell you?? He almost stumbled backward when he saw the torso of the beast.

you...

He was stunned standing still as you shred through Angel after Angel.

He stood there and watched as you screamed at your new victory and looked at your next opponent. A giant angelified demon, You didn't even know Mammon was there The only thing in your mind was 'angel.threat'

Beelzebub was there when it happened He could just barely see you You couldn't hear him when he screamed no as you put the fruit to your lips. The King's new about your feelings of uselessness They tried to console you they tried telling you that you were just as important as anyone.

Belphegor is on the front lines. They were doing their part, and he was bored. He already knew his enemies 10-fold. But then something unexpected happened as they tried to bring down a vast beast; another one collided with it, starting a fight that he'd only seen in his comics. 'Wait a minute,' He thought as he held out his arm, commanding his devils to ceasefire.

Is that that human he's hurt so much about??? What the heck? From his desk you probably ate the fruit fucking stupid also... Very bold. A move he would never ever see coming from anyone.

After the angels retreat you are still on a rampage though you didn't want to hurt your devil friends the pain was all becoming too much You tried to fly away to push them back with your tail It took all five of the demon kings to bring you down to the ground.

Luckily since you were a human your angelfication was not permanent. But it was not without drawbacks.

You woke up to an angry Lucifer He has heard everything and he is pissed. Worried and pissed. So worried on the patient that he refrains from ripping you a new one for your stupid stunt. Do you know how lucky you are to survive that?

However it's not completely reversed All you have now is evidence of what you did. Your canines are now sharper almost like fangs. And what really freaked you out is that your chest and around your privates were covered in white feathers.

Leviathan is so angry He's shaking and rage and with worry The seat he's in despite his calm demeanor won't stop shaking with his body. Part of him wants to hold you close another part of him doesn't even want to look at you!

Satan his eyes filled with relief and fear as he feels the soft feathers now covering a third of your body. He wants you to swear to him to never do that stunt ever again!

Mammon honestly is amazed with his master, He was worried sick but he was kind of in awe about how strong you were. Bimet disagrees but will not say it out loud (He wonders how much your feathers will sell.)

Belphegor seems very interested in you now...

[frannyzooey]

Go Slow

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit 

Summary: In the quiet of your bedroom, Joel guides you through it. 

--

It’s dark, the sole light in the room coming from the streetlight outside and it’s just enough to illuminate you on top of him: a vision, bathed in muted white. 

You lean back, bracing your hands on his thighs and they flex under your grip when your fingers dig in for purchase. He reaches to steady you, his hold curling around the meat of your hips to guide your movement - a slow, steady roll of your hips on top of his. 

Your thighs are spread wide, have to be with how broad he is beneath you, and the position has your back arching and your chest on display, the slight, weighted sway of your breasts mesmerizing to him. 

The bed is unbelievably soft, a cloud that he spreads out large on top of and it smells sweet, just like your skin. His feet sink into it when he plants them on the mattress to push up into you, burying himself as deep as he can.

“God, yes.” 

You sit up straighter with the shift of his knees and his hands move to your waist, encouraging you keep the severe bend to your spine. 

“Just like that, sweetheart.” He hums low in the darkness, the husky gravel of it even more intimate with how quiet he’s being. “Ride it just like that. Show me how much you like it.”

You do - Christ you do - doubling your efforts with a soft whine and digging your knees into the bed to lift yourself higher, only to sink down on him deeper. You do it a couple times, his hand drifting to palm the weight of your breast and when his thumb skates over the peaked bud, you place your hand over his, holding it in place with a squeeze. 

Your other hand comes down on his torso, your fingertips barely brushing his skin as you rock, rock, rock on top of his lap. 

His face is one of awe, one of rapture, his eyes dark and lost in lust, hooded as they gaze up at you. The pillow is white around his dark halo of curls, and you long to brush the sweat damp ones from his forehead, but you wait, instead giving him this.

When he feels you tighten around him, a breathless smile graces his face. 

“You gonna come on it, honey? Gonna show me?” 

He groans when you nod, his hips pushing into yours harder, faster, enough to make you have to lean forward. One hand braces on the headboard with a curl around the top, and the other settles with a slap on the pillow beside his head. You ride him faster, chasing the gathering, bright heat between your legs. 

“I think this’ll help,” he says, holding his thumb in front of your mouth and you greedily take it inside with a suck, your tongue swirling around the digit with a moan. He lets out his own sound: a broken, deep rumble within his chest at the sight of your lush lips wrapped tight around it and then he’s slipping it wetly from your mouth, reaching down to press it gently against your clit. 

“Joel,” you cry out, forcing your hips to chase the maddening circle he’s rubbing into it. He’s got you trapped: either forward into his skillful thumb, or backwards to be filled up and you want both, your body grinding against his. H

He shushes your moans that get louder with every rock back. 

“Shhh, baby. I know, I know. You gotta be quiet though.”

He’s always talked you through it, his soothing lilt maddeningly arousing when he uses it in the darkness of the bedroom and this is no different, the words burning you up from the inside out. 

You nod quickly, your eyes closing tight and your fingers digging into the bedding as he builds your release within you and when he knows you’re on the cusp, he goes harder: his breathing labored and heavy, his strokes fast and harsh. 

“Fuck, fuck. J --”

Your mouth begins to form his name, but doesn’t say it, instead catching in your throat when your hips lock into place and you push back on his cock until it’s almost too much and that’s when you start to come around it. 

Beneath you, he looks gone, his eyebrows a slight frown over the eyes that stay fixed on you and he tries not to immediately come at the sight of your face right now, at the way you feel like a tight, slick fist around him. 

“That’s my girl,” he pants out, his voice a mix of strained pride and breathlessness. “That’s my fuckin’ girl.”

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Good Omens Season 2 Soundtrack! 😍❤🎵

The Soundtrack CD has wonderful cover and pics and look at the brilliant booklet! :D When you open it it looks like a box with a fly! :D

Options :):

(best to use the local store of course :), the Silva Screen page is thewebpage of the recording company)

CD:

Silva Screen 15.99 €

Amazon.co.uk £10.99

Amazon.com $30.79

Vinyl:

Silva Screen 39.99 €

Amazon.com $53.99

Digital:

Silva Screen 10.99 €

More digital listening options :) (some free)

Episode description and Track Listing :):

CHAPTER 1: THE ARRIVAL - Retired angel Aziraphale and retired demon Crowley's lives are upended when a visitor arrives on the doorstep of Aziraphale's bookshop, bringing chaos. Local shopkeepers Maggie and Nina get locked in to Nina's coffee shop when Crowley loses his temper. Heaven and Hell are suspicious, and Crowley and Aziraphale have a disagreement.

1. Before the Beginning 2. Good Omens 2 Opening Title 3. Into Soho 4. Something Terrible 5. To The Bookshop 6. Maggie and Nina 7. He’s Smoking 8. Tiny Miracle 9. Heavenly Alarm Bells

CHAPTER 2: THE CLUE featuring the minisode A COMPANION TO OWLS - Heaven and Hell are determined to find the missing angel. An overheard song provides Aziraphale with a Clue. Crowley and Aziraphale visit the pub to discuss ways that humans fall in love. While almost 5,000 years ago Crowley is sent to inflict punishments on the righteous Job, God's favourite person, as Aziraphale learns at first hand about temptation, and what Gabriel will and won't believe.

10. Avaunt! 11. The Song is the Clue 12. It’s What God Wants 13. A Mighty Wind 14. Whales 15. Gabriel Returns 16. His New Children 17. Am I Awful Now? 18. Fallen Angel

CHAPTER 3: I KNOW WHERE I'M GOING featuring the minisode THE RESURRECTIONISTS - Heaven sends the angel Muriel in disguise to spy on Aziraphale and Crowley. Aziraphale drives to Edinburgh in pursuit of his Clue, and learns a little about a lot. The couple's visit to Edinburgh in 1827 involves graverobbery, a statue and an unfortunate encounter with a vial of laudanum. In the present, Crowley is in charge of the bookshop, and is disappointed by human beings and the weather.

19. Police Arrive 20. Scotland 21. We’re Going to Hell 22. People Get a Choice 23. My Car is Not Yellow 24. Beelzebub in Hell 25. The Book 26. The Fly 27. Mr. Dalrymple 28. We Need to Cut 29. I’m Going to Save Her 30. Crowley Goes Large 31. Not Kind 32. Beelzebub Isn’t Happy

CHAPTER 4: THE HITCHHIKER featuring the minisode NAZI ZOMBIE FLESHEATERS - Aziraphale's good deed of picking up a hitchhiker on his way back to Soho proves to be a serious mistake. In 1941 Crowley and Aziraphale encounter some surprising adversaries, old and new, as the Nazi spies who almost entrapped Aziraphale return as zombies from the dead, intent on preventing him from attempting a bullet catch on the West End stage.

33. Hell-O 34. Nazi Zombies 35. March of the Nazi Zombies 36. Crowley Pep Talk 37. The Magic Shop 38. Catch The Bullet 39. Zombies in the Dressing Room

CHAPTER 5: THE BALL - Aziraphale tries to bring Maggie and Nina together by organising a meeting of the Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Street Traders Association. In Hell, Shax is determined to launch a full scale attack on the bookshop, with a legion of demons at her command. Nina's heart is broken, as is a bookshop window. Gabriel has a close encounter with Mrs Sandwich and a small plate of cakes.

40. I’ll Let You Have It 41. We’re Storming a Book Shop 42. Monsieur Azirophale 43. The Candelabra 44. Here Comes Hell 45. Gabriel Gives Himself Up 46. Shax 47. The Circle

CHAPTER 6: EVERY DAY - Crowley becomes a Heavenly bee and learns the truth about the Armageddon sequel. Aziraphale defends his bookshop from Shax's army and reveals his halo, Maggie and Nina become warriors, and Jim the assistant bookseller gets some hot chocolate. Crowley and Aziraphale get to the bottom of the mystery of the Matchbox. The Metatron brings an oat milk latte, along with a final offer.

48. Bin Through the Window 49. Gabriel Leaving Heaven 50. The Halo 51. Gabriel Revealed 52. Gabriel’s Love Story 53. Leaving The Bookshop 54. Gabriel and Beelzebub 55. Crowley and Muriel 56. I Forgive You 57. Don’t Bother 58. The Biggest Decision 59. The End?

The vinyl should look like this :) (damn, it gorgeous toooo! :D):

[makethatelevenrings]

Lucky // J. Todd x f!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: smut 18+ ONLY, praise kink, tooth rotting sweetness

Summary: You and Jason were opposites. He was a foul-mouthed, gun-toting vigilante. You were painfully shy, not even daring to look at the guy from across the coffee shop. It doesn’t matter. He shows you how much he loves you regardless.

A/N: still working on catching up with holiday requests! I just wanted a break in between writing them. anyway, it’s cuffin’ SEASONNNN I NEED A BIG BOY, GIMME A BIG BOY

The gradual warmth flooding across Gotham indicated that spring was encroaching on winter. In a small one-bedroom apartment on the edges of the Bowery, you scribbled down a grocery list while you waited for your lover to wake up. Delicate golden rays washed over your skin and seeped into your soul, lighting up your body inside and out. Adjusting your glasses, you peered outside as the sun crested over the tops of the buildings.

The sound of the bedroom door opening caught your attention and you looked over to find Jason watching you carefully. He leaned against the doorframe, gray sweats hanging low on his hips. His firm, solid torso was on display and your cheeks flooded with heat despite the fact that you had seen him like this a million times before and slept next to his half naked form merely hours before.

Jason was the opposite of you. You both savored quiet days in the apartment with your choice of book, a new recipe to try, or a show in the background while you worked on your computer and he napped on the couch next to you. He worked nights and you during the days. He was out in the streets, beating criminals black and blue for going after the innocent. You waited for him to come home so you could ease the sting of his broken knuckles with antiseptic and ice. He was loud, brash, and didn’t hesitate to get in people’s faces if he felt justice needed to be served. You were quiet, shy, and felt it impossible to raise your voice sometimes.

“Morning,” you greeted softly. Sleep still clung to his teal eyes, but a small smile graced his lips. Jason pushed away from the wall and made a clean hop over the couch. He settled his weight on top of you, careful not to crush you, and nestled his head on your chest.

A giggle escaped you and you tossed the notepad and pen onto the coffee table. You tangled your fingers in his messy dark hair and laid a kiss on top of curls. He hummed at your ministrations as you scratched your nails along his scalp and his hands came down to settle on your hips.

No words needed to be exchanged between the two of you. You slid your hands down to run along the heated skin of his back. The glow of the sun illuminated his body and when he raised his head, he was crowned in golden light. A halo perfect for your angelic protector.

His hands slid under your shirt and he tugged it off in one swift motion, tossing it somewhere in the direction of the kitchen. You laughed again and he smiled against the flesh of your breast before his tongue swiped across the pebbled nipple of your right breast. Your grip tightened on his bicep and Jason grunted in pleasure. He loved knowing his girl felt good.

Jason reached up and pulled your glasses away from your face. He gently set them on the coffee table and pulled himself up, straddling your waist but making sure to not press his weight down on you. You reached up and cupped his cheeks, pulling him down to meet your lips in a searing kiss. You slipped his lower lip between both of yours and sucked slightly, savoring the taste of him on your tongue. Jason groaned and slid his hand along the waistband of your pajama pants. He brushed his pointer finger along your clothed pussy and you gasped against his mouth.

Triumphantly, Jason pulled your panties to one side and circled a finger against your cunt. Shocks of pleasure shot up your spine and warmth flooded down into your cunt. You could feel your arousal grow and he tested how wet you were by slipping the tip of his finger between the lips of your cunt.

One finger slid into you, crooking and teasing along the fleshy pad of your g-spot and your hips canted towards him instinctively. Jason nibbled along the side of your jaw as you panted, open mouthed and debauched. His fingers fucked you as his clothed cock rubbed against your hip.

If someone told you two years ago that you would spend your mornings getting your mind and back blown out by your gorgeous boyfriend, you would have laughed and walked right out of the building. Hell, you were painfully shy sometimes. The chances of you talking to a guy was slim. Dating? As if.

But then you kept running into this one customer at the coffee shop under your apartment. The first time you saw Jason, you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him without wanting to shrivel up into a hole and never appear in public again.

After three months of you both glancing at the other, Jason made the first move because there was no way in hell that you would be doing it. He simply walked up one day and asked if the seat across from you was empty. Once he broke past your initial walls, you realized how comfortable you were around him. He was loud, from his laugh to his very personality, but you didn’t mind it. He chatted with the baristas, paid for people who didn’t have enough change or clearly needed a pick me up, and he got in the face of the folks who yelled at the baristas.

You were falling before you knew it. Everything else just fell into place as easy as your heart.

Of course there were bumps. The whole vigilante thing and rich family had come as a shock, but at that point, you didn’t really care. Jason was your Jason. He was the guy who got a lemon poppy seed scone and a cold brew every day. He loved the taste of coconut but hated the texture. He loved to read, always had, and he loved to tell you about the latest book he had read.

He had died. He had come back. Sometimes, he kissed you like it would be the last time he would ever touch you. You didn’t care.

You loved him.

“C’mon, baby. Come for me,” he grunted against your lips as the cord of pleasure in your body pulled tighter and tighter. “God, you’re so pretty. Such a good girl for me. You’re gonna be a good girl and come, right?”

“Yes,” you whispered. “I’m your girl.”

“That’s right.” He kissed you sweetly and you couldn’t help but notice the contrast between the lewd squelch of his fingers scissoring and thrusting out of your sopping cunt and the soft, gentle way he pressed kisses across the bridge of your nose and against your lips.

“That’s my good girl, that’s my baby. God, I love you so much.”

His raspy, sleep-coated voice sent your brain haywire and you opened your lips in a silent, choking gasp as your pussy fluttered around his fingers. He rutted against your hips just a few more times before he stilled. If you looked down, you were sure you would find a growing stain at the front of his sweatpants.

Jason slipped his hand out from your pants and laid his hand on your bare stomach. He collapsed next to you on the couch and rested his head on your breast once more.

“What was that for?” you teased. “Not that I’m complaining.”

He rested his chin on your sternum and blinked up at you with lust-addled eyes.

“Thought it was obvious,” he mumbled.

You shook your head. “Gonna have to spell it out for me, bubs.”

Jason settled a kiss on the skin of your chest, right where your heart beat steadily. “Because I’m the luckiest son of a bitch in this entire city.”

Tag List: @khaetiin​ @mcrmarvelloki​ @gone-batty-fics​ @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @havingarebelliousstage​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @kimm4710​ @kat-nee​ @khaylin27​

[bloustorm]

If you're Red then I'm Blueeeee

tagging uhhhh @achairwithapandaonit @aro-aizawa @aobawilliams

Tag game 👻

This picrew

Tagging (no pressure <3) @j-restlessgeek @lintubintu @crazy-minded-girl @nembzz @mint-ty @alien-girl-21 @fuckthemforthis @bitfruity @wednesdayday and anyone who wants to do it

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Blizzard

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Dark Donna

Word count: 4,808

Summary: You shouldn't have walked in the middle of a blizzard

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open, I'm waiting for yours!!! I love you all!!!

“Uh, oh...” You whispered as a cold current ran through your body. You knew it wasn't the best day for hiking, but you couldn't miss the opportunity that this snowy landscape offered you. You had already been to many places, but none like that strange village. The mystery that seemed to surround those villagers... As sullen and mysterious as the snowy landscape that surrounded them.

It was a perfect place to walk through the snow, if it weren't for the fact that a blizzard seemed to be coming.

“I should have listened to that old woman...” You sighed when the snow began to hurt your eyes. “Well, it would be better to turn around and go back to the… Oh, shit…”

You turned around, being completely sure that you had followed that path, the one that led directly to a beautiful waterfall that was dying to be captured by your camera.

You didn't want to admit it. No matter how hard you looked at the trees, you couldn't tell if you had passed by them or not.

The blizzard raged mercilessly, the wind buffeting your body as you made your way through the snow. And yes, it could be worse. It seemed there was no better time for your little adventure than a few hours before nightfall. Your determination to photograph a beautiful sunset in the mountains was going to be your downfall.

“Okay… Okay… (Y/N), you screwed it up,” you said while trying in vain to make a call on your cell phone. Useless. You had been without signal since you arrived in the village. You didn't know why you thought it would be different in the middle of that frozen wasteland.

The light was becoming less intense and your steps were increasingly erratic. You could be walking in circles and not even realize it.

The snow cut your face like blades. You didn't want to despair, it wasn't the first time you got lost, but certainly, you started to give up.

“Come on, come on...” You said to yourself, continuing to walk awkwardly. Noises similar to the howls of a wolf made you not want to stop. “No… I don’t… Want…To be… Your food…”

You walked a few more steps until the ground gave way under your feet. It was your end.

You slid down some rocks, hitting yourself several times in the process until the fluffy snow cushioned your fall.

“Oh...” You gasped, checking that you hadn't broken anything. “Shit, shit, shit…”

The darkness limited your field of vision, but you could hear the water from that waterfall. You clumsily stood up, brushing the snow off your clothes, preventing your body from freezing early.

“Well, that was close,” you murmured when you realized you were near to a cliff. When you looked up, you could make out something in the middle of that landscape.

It looked like a house, or rather, a mansion, you couldn't tell, the night was darkening. The snow continued to cut your face mercilessly and, although you couldn't see where you were, you thought that that building was your best option.

“Wow... Who lives here? It's impressive,” you sighed when you were close enough for the snow to stop being a hindrance to your vision. “Hello?” You asked out loud, opening the metal fence that delimited the property.

Nothing, the sound of the wind was the only thing that predominated in that place. It would be better to get a little closer.

“Brrr” You shook your body when the small roof protected you from the cold. It looked like an old, abandoned house, but you had no choice but to knock on the door. “Hello?! Anyone there?! Hello!?”

You called out quite loudly and yelled loud enough so that the wind didn't drown out your voice.

“Maybe there's no one here...” You said trembling, with your body freezing little by little.

Behind a window you could see a halo of light, similar to what fire makes when it reflects on glass. You were not alone. Someone lived in that house.

“Hey! Hey! Hello!? Please!” You shouted, hitting the door even harder. “I'm lost and I think, I think I'm going to freeze to death! Hello?!”

Nothing

You were about to give up, looking around for alternative shelter when an ominous creak reached your ears.

One of the old doors opened little by little, letting out the dim light from a candle. The person holding it made you gulp.

It looked like a woman, dressed entirely in black. The light of the candle danced on her face, or rather, on the black veil that covered it. But there was no time to study that woman. You were about to turn into an icicle.

“He, hello...” You stammered, noticing that woman's gaze on you. “Sorry to bothering but… I, I got lost in the mountains. I fell down a small ravine and… Well, the blizzard caught me and…”

For some reason, that almost ghostly presence gave you a certain feeling of discomfort.

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat. The mysterious woman said nothing. You started to get a bit nervous. “I… I, I was wondering if…”

“Who are you? Stupid stranger!” A shrill voice made you take a step back. It had not come from the woman with the veil, but rather came from a strange and disturbing doll that she woman was holding with her other hand.

“What?” You asked confused. Maybe you were already freezing and starting to get delirious. “Please, please, let me take shelter from the storm, I... I think, I think I'm going to freeze.”

Doll and woman looked at each other in a disturbing scene. It was very strange, but you weren't ready to choose another option. The night was already closed and that was your only ticket to not freeze to death.

Luckily, after a few seconds of strange tension, the lady in black moved away from the door, giving a slight nod for you to enter.

“Oh, thank you, thank you very much,” you said, clasping your hands and quickly fleeing the cold.

The house was gloomy, dark, barely illuminated by a couple of candles on a table. It was a majestic house, which surely belonged to a majestic woman. When you finished studying your surroundings, you looked at the lady, who closed the door with a bang that disturbed the strange tranquility of that place.

“Oh, is that a ventriloquist doll?” You asked curiously, looking at that strange puppet. The lady didn't seem to want to move, you could only see that she was breathing like any mortal. That was a good sign, you supposed.

“My name is Angie, you stupid meddler,” the doll protested, making a fuss over her owner. You laughed, thinking this was some kind of joke from that strange woman.

“Hey, you're very good...” You said amused, cautiously approaching the doll. “Hello, Angie, I'm (Y/N)” you said in a childish voice, shaking the puppet's hand, a hand that it immediately moved away.

“But what are you doing, stupid?” The doll protested, making its owner to look at it.

Well, at least you weren't freezing to death, and that you weren't going to get bored.

“I... I appreciate you letting me in, um... Can you tell me your name?” You asked after a few more moments of tense silence.

There was no response, the lady simply walked past you while that puppet turned its head to keep looking at you.

“Donna,” a hoarse voice murmured, this time, coming from the mourning lady. You sighed in relief knowing that you weren't going to have to communicate with that doll.

“Donna, oh, okay, what, it’s a pretty name,” you said nervously, following closely the lady, who opened the door into the house, towards a living room that had a lit fireplace.

“Oh, fire...” You said, eager for any source of heat, approaching that fireplace and extending your arms towards it, letting the heat soothe your almost blue hands. “Wow, I thought my hands were going to freeze.”

“I don't like her, Donna...” You heard the doll whisper, or, well, you thought it was the doll. You couldn't help but frown.

“Leave her be, Angie. She seems harmless,” the lady murmured, leaving the doll on an armchair.

What kind of woman was that? Did she talk to herself? Would it have been better to freeze?

“Excuse me, did you say something?” You asked confused.

 That woman, Donna turned to you and shook her head, leaving the candle along with others on a table.

“Okay... I, I'll leave right away, as soon as the storm stops,” you said, starting to feel too trapped in those rickety walls. Donna nodded.

“I don't think it’s going to stop soon,” she whispered, approaching the fireplace and removing a pot of boiling water from it.

“I won't be a bother, I promise,” you said, stopping shivering from the cold and enjoying the pleasant warmth of the fire.

“Of course you won’t be!” A shrill voice, coming from the armchair where the doll rested shouted. It couldn't have been Angie, no way.

“Angie...” The lady sighed, approaching the chair. “Behave”.

You swallowed again, not knowing if the heat of the fire was enough to make you want to stay.

“Excuse her, she doesn't like strangers,” the woman told you in a soft but hoarse tone, as if she wasn't used to talking to anyone. Living in a place like this, it didn't seem strange to you. “Sit down.”

You obeyed without saying anything, going towards the chair she had indicated and exploring that house with your eyes.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, taking off your backpack.

“Tea?” She offered you, with a voice that betrayed a certain nervousness. Although she seemed kind, something gave you a bad feeling.

“Oh, of course, if it's hot...” You said, hiding the fear you started to feel.

“Of course it's hot,” she responded sharply, making you shift in your chair. “Tea has to be hot.”

“Yes, yes, of course...” You murmured, bowing your head in an apologetic gesture, gratefully taking the cup she offered you.

The lady in black sat in front of you, watching you. You didn't know what she was looking for in your gaze exactly, but the feeling of not being able to see her face was starting to make you uncomfortable.

“I... Well...” You said nervous because of the silence, because of the sound of the wind being the protagonist in that dark room. “Your house is impressive, Donna.”

“Thank you,” she responded, nodding pleased at the compliment.

“It must be quite calm. To live here, I mean,” you commented curiously, bringing up the most absurd topic of conversation you could think of.

“I like the tranquility,” Donna stated, drinking from her cup, slightly moving the veil away from her face. You had to make a superhuman effort not to look.

“I see... It's, it's all quite dark.”

“There is no electric power. The storm broke it” the woman explained, to which you nodded. Thank goodness, you thought you had entered the tunnel of horror.

“Oh, wow,” you said, feigning empathy. You couldn't help but feel very curious about this woman, but also a bit afraid of her.

“I'm sure you're hungry. I can't offer you anything to eat. The elevator that goes to the kitchen doesn't work,” she said passively, as if your presence was not pleasant for her, but nevertheless, trying to sound… Kind.

“Do you have an elevator in your house? Wow, what a luxury,” you said amused, in a pathetic attempt at joking.

“My parents built it like that,” Donna explained, getting nervous for some reason you didn't know.

“Oh, sure... Where are they?” You asked with good intentions.

“They're dead,” Donna said, slamming the cup on the table hard, making you panic.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... Oh, well,” you said embarrassed. You couldn't have a worse day. “I better keep quiet.”

“Yeah, shut up!” Angie screamed.

When you looked at the couch, the doll was still as limp as it seemed.

“Angie...” Donna whispered, with a severe, reprimanding tone. Time to change the subject. You didn't want to think that the doll had spoken for itself.

“I have energetic bars in my backpack. They're not a big deal, but at least it's something... Do you want one?” You asked, using your well-known people skills, that ability of yours to talk to anyone, no matter how strange.

“Energetic what?” She asked, curious.

You took two out of your backpack and offered her one, which she examined carefully.

“Yes, well... It's like eating newspaper but on the label it says that they are apple flavour...”  You said amused, devouring yours.

She hesitated, but she tried out of curiosity.

“The one who made this has not tasted an apple in his life,” the lady said disgusted, but with a funny tone. “But thank you… (Y/N)?”

“Oh yeah, (Y/N), that’s my name,” you said, covering your filled mouth with your hand. “And don't thank me, thank you for let me in.”

“Normally I would let you freeze to death, but I was in a good mood today,” she said passively. You laughed, thinking it was a joke, although it definitely didn't sound like one. You didn't want to ask if it was a joke either, you were a bit scared.

“Well...” You murmured, after a few minutes of horrible silence. “How's that storm going?” You asked, looking towards one of the windows. You wanted to think that you could get out of there, that the blizzard had subsided, but it wasn't true.

“You can stay the night if you want,” Donna offered, getting up from her chair.

“No, it's not necessary,” you said, perhaps too hastily. “I don't want to abuse your kindness.”

“Well, if you prefer to freeze to death...” She said with a low, almost threatening tone.

You looked at the window again. The blizzard seemed unbeatable, tireless. That house, that woman. It was all disturbing, but it was better than freezing to death.

“I... I... It's okay,” you said, sighing defeated. “The truth is that I’m tired.”

“Follow me,” she said dryly, picking up the candle from the table again.

You obeyed, putting the backpack on your shoulder.

Walking slowly, you reached the hall again and began to climb the stairs, trying not to lose the light of the candle that Donna was carrying.

As you went up, a portrait of a woman caught your attention. She was beautiful, so beautiful. So much for an irreverent and shameless girl like you.

“Wow, she is... Don't tell me that you’re that beautiful woman,”  you said jokingly, but at the same time, seriously.

Donna paused, slowly turning her head to look at you. She didn't respond, she continued walking.

You better shut up, (Y/N)

“Here. You can stay here,” she said dryly, as if she were annoyed by something. Had that comment offended her? She must have been flattered by your compliment.

“Thank you, Donna,” you sighed, leaving the backpack on the bed in that small room.

“Good night,” she said, lighting a candle with hers and disappearing like a ghost.

“Good...” You said, before the door closed with a loud bang. “…Night…”

You sighed and shrugged, digging through your backpack, locating your diary. Just a few things that worth writing in that small notebook happened in your adventures but this was one of them.

“Who are you?” You asked the quick sketch you made of the lady and her doll. “The truth is that I am curious…”

Even though your journey through the mountains had left you completely exhausted, you couldn't sleep a wink. The sound of the storm shook the window panes and the surrounding trees cast dark shadows on the wall.

“There were no houses in the village... I had to find the one with the cursed doll,” you huffed, covering yourself with the sheets and squeezing your eyes tightly.

You immediately regretted eating that stupid energetic bar. Your mouth was crying out for some water. You couldn't sleep with that infernal thirst. You had two options: let your throat go dry, or get up.

“Okay... Tunnel of horror, here I come,” you whispered, making the most rational decision.

You took the small candle that Donna lit and opened the door as discreetly as possible. It was in vain, as an ominous creak gave you away.

“Water... Water...” You murmured, illuminating the dark hallway.

Luckily, there was a bathroom right in front of the room.

“That's better,” you said satisfied, having quenched your thirst.

The most logical and normal thing would have been to return to your room, but of course, you were not a normal person, much a less logical one.

Curious, you looked over the railing, hoping, you didn't know what, to see something. The small glow of the fireplace could be distinguished in the distance. Slowly, you approached the stairs.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Slowly, extinguishing the candle, you went down a couple of steps, stopping at that portrait.

“Surely if I had you in front of me right now I would already be trying to flirt with you...” You whispered seductively. “And if that doll wasn't there...” You said later, making a disgusted face at the puppet.

Without taking your eyes off the portrait, you continued down until you reached the hall again. There, you walked slowly to the door, peeking out.

Curiosity killed the... Yes, shut up now, brain

Nothing, there were no signs of life in the room. That doll wasn't even there. Well, you had free rein to explore, or so you thought.

As soon as you entered the room, you froze in place.

The fire illuminated a figure curled up on a sofa. Donna, without a doubt.

She seemed asleep and next to her, that inert puppet.

Stay away. That's what the rational side of your mind told you. Did it have to be repeated that you were not rational?

You took one step, then another, until you were close enough.

“Oh, my God,” you sighed, putting your hand over your mouth to avoid being discovered. The black veil had disappeared. That woman's face was beautiful, but a huge scar covered part of it. She was the lady in the portrait and that's why she covered herself.

That didn't make her seem any less beautiful to you. What now? Are you going to flirt with her?

The woman was sleeping peacefully with a book in her hand. You had no intention of bothering her, nor of continuing to explore. Running back to the bed to draw her beauty was your priority.

“Donna, Donna! The stranger, the stranger!” The doll screeched, causing you to fall to the ground in fright. There was no longer any doubt. The doll had a life of its own.

Of course, the lady woke up scared, looking for the source of the scandal.

“What are you doing?” Donna asked when she noticed your presence. Her single eye hardened, glowing with rage.

“No, nothing...” You said, retreating, crawling on the floor.

“She's mean, Donna! She was spying on you!” Angie accused you, which made you shake even more.

“What? I don't... why is it alive?” You stammered, overwhelmed by all those sudden emotions.

“I shouldn't have let you in,” the woman hissed, walking towards you, with the most dangerous look you've ever seen, with that beauty overshadowed by rage.

“Wait, wait...” You said, crawling on the floor.  “I didn't mean to bother you, What is this doll?”

“Shut up,” the woman said, clenching her fists on either side of her hips.

“Sorry, sorry... Don't kill me,” you begged pathetically, covering your face with your hands. “It wasn't my intention. Besides, I don't know why you even cover yourself. You are beautiful.”

You were telling the truth, but it clearly sounded like a shabby attempt to get that woman to take pity on you.

“Don't think you're going to get away by lying to me, (Y/N)...” Donna threatened, getting closer and closer to you.

“Wa, wait, wait. I'm not lying, really. You are, you are beautiful. I mean... If you didn't want to kill me I would be trying to flirt with you,” you said nervously, trying to stand up.

She stopped, looking at you with a frown.

“Are you serious?” She asked confused, blinking several times.

“Yes, yes... You're really hot, Donna,” you said, squeezing your eyes, waiting for your end.

“You're very vulgar,” she sighed, extending a hand toward you.

Had it worked? Had telling the truth done any good?

“Oh...” You sighed, taking her hand and standing up. “I… I, I'm sorry.”

“Don't you know that it is rude to spy on others?” She told you with a calmer tone.

“I guess I'm curious, that's all,” you said, relaxing your breathing. Her gaze explored your body up and down.

She nodded, looking at you in a different way, with the shadow of a smile decorating her face.

“Hey, about the doll...” You said whispering, looking out of the corner of your eye at the puppet, which, to your surprise, stood up on its own.

“Do you really think I'm beautiful?” Donna asked, with a childish smile on her face, as if you had said something strange.

“Yes,” you said, nodding, turning red with embarrassment. You couldn't deny that you were attracted to her, even if she seemed dangerous.

“You are also very beautiful, (Y/N)” she whispered, approaching, nervously playing with her hands.

“Give each other a kiss and shut up now” the doll mocked, making you look away at it.

“Oh, the doll did it again... Why is it moving?” You asked nervously, disturbed by what you were seeing. You couldn't be dreaming. Your heart was beating very fast.

“Would you like to kiss me?” Donna asked, making you almost break your neck as you looked at her, eyes wide.

“I... Um, what?” You asked confused, with a knot in your stomach, with your subconscious screaming at you to do it.

“I would like to kiss you…”

What was wrong with that woman? She wanted to kill you just a minute ago.

You were an adventurous girl and you boasted about the girls you met during your travels. Donna was the strangest of them all, but also the most beautiful.

“Well, why not?” You said, shrugging, letting yourself be carried away by her figure, by her beauty in the light of the fireplace.

You approached slowly, until you placed your lips on hers. She sighed contentedly, unable to hide a smile as she kissed you slowly, bringing her hands to your waist.

It wasn't a long kiss, but it was an intense one, one that made you forget for a moment where you were and the strange things you had experienced.

“Surely you have met many girls on your travels...” She murmured, kissing you slowly again, exploring your lips with curiosity. You were confused, but you couldn't deny that you were enjoying it.

 It wasn't how you intended to end the night.

“Yes, but...None like you...” you whispered, laughing at that situation. You weren't planning on having an affair with a woman who lived with a living doll. You began to be grateful for being lost in the blizzard.

“You can be sure of that, (Y/N)” she said amused, but with a dark tone, without stopping kissing you, caressing your body, raising the temperature of that house. “My bedroom is downstairs... But the elevator doesn't work,” Donna said, biting her lip. “Do you think that small bed of yours...?”

You, eager to get to know this woman more deeply, nodded. Your unbridled lust had made you forget everything that had happened. Someday it will take its toll on you. Maybe before you ç thought.

“The small bed will do,” you murmured, biting her earlobe. Her lavender scent was intoxicating, as were the sounds she made when you kissed her neck.

Donna pulled away from you, taking your hand eagerly, with desire, dragging you towards the stairs.

It was a night... Too good. That woman was eager, almost insatiable. You couldn't tell how long you were in that bed, naked, giving up to your passion. You moaned, she moaned. What seemed like a terrifying night turned into a series of moans, kisses, caresses… It became something unexpected and electrifying, something you didn't want to forget.

You opened your eyes as the morning light came through your window. Your whole body hurt. Because of the blizzard, and because of the night you had spent with that woman. Woman who, by the way, was not sleeping next to you, was no longer hugging you like the night before.

“Mmm, the doll lady...” You moaned, letting yourself fall on the mattress, confirming that you didn't dream of making love to her. The whole bed smelled like lavender. “Well, it seems that there is no longer a storm.”

You dressed quickly, shivering from the cold, but with your body still warm from passion.

“Good morning,” you said humming, peeking out the door that led to the living room. There she was, in her black dress, with her face uncovered, preparing a breakfast worthy of any buffet.

“Hello, tesoro, how did you sleep?” She asked kindly, walking over and kissing you quickly. You smiled.

“Not enough time...” you purred in her ear, causing her to giggle shyly.

“You scandalous...” the Angie doll said with a singing voice.

“Fuck! I had forgotten,” you said scared, running a hand over the back of your neck. “Em, Donna… What's wrong with that doll? Why is it alive?”

“Come on, come on, tesoro, calm down,” she said, taking you by the hand to the table and pushing you to sit down. She did the same in front of you.

“Seriously, why is it moving?” You asked, grabbing a croissant from a tray.

“I'll tell you another time...” the lady said, ignoring your curiosity for the umpteenth time.

“Mmm, you better hurry up, tomorrow I'm traveling to Poland” you commented, taking a sip of that delicious coffee that she had prepared for you.

“Poland?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, smiling but observing the confused gesture of the lady in black. “It's the end of my route. Afterwards, I will return home.”

“I thought you'd stay a bit longer...” she said, her eyes shining, as if she were pleading.

You feigned indifference and sighed.

“Well, well... Maybe I'll stay a few more days... If that's okay with you, of course...” You said amused, winking at her.

“I would love to,” Donna whispered, ending the conversation.

After filling yourself with that breakfast, you decided it was time to leave. You would have stayed longer, but at least you had to return to the hotel to extend your stay. The truth is that you wanted to know more about her, spend more time with her.

“Then I go down the elevator, follow the bridge... And I arrive at the village...” You said, repeating her instructions at the door of the house.

“That's it, tesoro... Promise me you'll see me again,” she said, hanging on your neck and kissing you quickly.

“Sure, we could have a lunch together if you want.”

You said goodbye with another kiss and started on your way back. The path was sinister, but at least there was no loss and the day seemed clear.

You got into that strange elevator and pressed the button. You frowned when you realized something was wrong. You had neither gone down nor gone up. You had felt movement, but you were in the same place.

“What the…?” You asked to yourself, studying the landscape with your eyes. No, you hadn't moved, the house was still at the end of the road. You started to shake. You pressed the button again and again. You went up the elevator again and again. Nothing, the same landscape.

You left the cabin when you had apparently managed to move around. Some red doors remained open.

“I definitely need that nap,” you said, scratching the back of your neck and pushing one of the doors.

You opened your eyes scared.

In front of you there was no forest, no snowy landscape. In front of you was the hall of that house, you were inside that house again.

“What?” You asked, trying to get out the door. It was impossible. Every time you left, you came back in. “What?”

“I'm sorry, (Y/N)” a hoarse voice startled you. The lady in black appeared out of nowhere. The black veil covered her face again.

“Donna? What's going on?” You asked scared, grabbing her black dress, mad. She didn't move. A childish laugh was filling the house. The doll laughed amused, and you suspected laughing at you.

“I like you, (Y/N). I can't let you leave.”

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

How to Plant Snapdragons | 11

Task Force 141, Keegan & Konig x Female Criminal!Reader

Previous Chapter / Extra Chapter / Masterlist

“So—”

“No.” Ghost replied at once before you could even finish your complaint.

You clicked your tongue and bashed the head of the cartel man before you with a gun you picked up on the way. Blood splattered on the ground as he fell, yet still had the strength to hold onto your foot. You felt a twitch underneath your eye and raised your gun, then sighed. You tossed the gun away, useless without any ammunition, and shook off the man’s hand.

You coughed and wheezed, then massaged your scratchy throat. “Fuck, I'm thirsty.”

“Told ya to drink earlier from the ri—”

“Shut the fuck up, Lt!” you shouted at Simon, who you knew—even though his face, expressions, everything was hidden underneath fabrics—definitely looked proud at the moment as your irritation (instead) started to brew.

“Poor guy breathed his last breath with a living and walking broken record screeching in his poor ears,” Soap commented, shaking his head as he picked up a magazine to examine it to see if there was anything left, but to no avail.

You pitched a pistol at him. Purposely aimed at his face but he was fast enough to catch it. “Asshole,” you mouthed at him, which he merely smirked at.

Then, an explosion echoed from a distance, shaking the ground and air around you. You gazed up above and spotted Graves’ plane circling around the vicinity, aiding you and the group in handling the men of the Las Almas Cartel and your goal: to capture Hassan.

The explosion continued in a series, like an orchestra of death and destruction before you. You would have liked to watch it happening from above, but the circumstances forbid it and so, you had to settle for bashing heads with a gun.

And when your gun had run out of ammunition, you used your blades. The moment your blade had become dull against the skin of humans, you used your hands.

Blood seeped through the fabric protecting your hands, mixing with the sweat within. You let the dirt of people enshroud the own filth of your hands, and you let yourself be the unwanted Iudex of their crimes.

“Hey, hey!” Ghost shouted at you which made you stop breaking the man’s face underneath you with your fists. “That's enough, we have Hassan,” he claimed.

You shrugged your shoulders and patted off the dust from your clothes. “Just making sure he's not going to get back up, y’know?”

“Well, I think he's not getting back up anytime from the hell ya made,” Soap commented, staring down at the man on your feet, and nudged the poor guy. “I also think not any kind of plastic surgery would fix his face if he managed to get back up.”

You cackled, slapping his arm in amusement. “Hey, that's not nice!”

He made a face. “But breaking his face isn't?”

“Never said it wasn't.”

He shot a glance up and shrugged. “Good point.”

“Heh.”

“Are you two done?” Ghost grumbled, walking away with Alejandro. With that, you both followed him down the building and jumped into the helicopter awaiting at the bottom.

You scanned the people of the group, counting the members that arrived with you at the Cartel’s land, and sighed when the number remained the same, except for the ones who the group had lost in the mountains.

You sat on the flooring of the halo, and leaned on its wall, shaking off your balaclava and gloves. You swiped the sweat running down your face, smearing the blood left both on your cheek and fingers, painting your face in dark red.

With all honesty, it felt and smelled disgusting, even though you had gotten used to it.

“Colonel, sir,” you called on Alejandro. “You have a shower in your base?” you questioned, although your words were drowned in the noise of the chopper.

He raised his brows and yelled, “What?!”

“I'm asking if you have a shower in your base!” you shouted back as loud as you could and coughed. Your hand flew to your throat and with a grimace, you massaged it. You had been speaking too much and it showed, making your throat have this annoying, scratchy, and itchy feeling. Punishment for irritating the shit out of everyone, perhaps.

“We do!” Alejandro answered in an equally booming voice.

Not wanting to force your throat anymore, you gave him a thumb-up instead, making him frown and look away in confusion.

By the time the Los Vaqueros, the Shadow Company, along with you, Soap, and Ghost touched down at Alejandro’s base, the sun had already set. But with everything going on, you didn’t have the time to slip past the soldiers’ eyes to take a quick shower to clean yourself. You were dragged down to another vehicle and drove down the road once again.

You kept your mouth shut the whole time, much to the boys’ delight, and maintained your eyes on the road. However, almost everything was dark, even with the headlights of the vehicle, and it made it hard to remember your surroundings. You started counting on your head by from one to sixty and until the third lap, the transport made a stop.

Alejandro, who was in the same one as you and the 141 duo, stepped out first, followed by Graves who was in another with a couple of his Shadows, dragging Hassan out of the vehicle. Soap and Ghost jumped out as well, helping with hauling the guy out and leaving you alone in the car.

You sighed and slumped on the seat, enjoying the darkness and chill of your surroundings, but someone opened the vehicle door. You rolled your eyes and turned to Phillip, who had his hand resting on the roof, raising a brow at you. “You know what?” you started, narrowing your eyes at him, “You look like that meme of the guy with exaggeratedly arched brow, lip fillers, and—”

“Get out.” He snatched one of the straps on your vest, forcefully tugged you out of the vehicle with a grunt, and pulled you in front of the laptop Ghost had set up. “She’s here.”

You grimaced at the sight of Shepherd, looking lax as he had always been. “Sup,” you spat out, but before he could speak, you continued, “What do you need me for in front of the camera when you already have me monitored? It’s not like I can even run away in this . . .” you looked around and cringed at the sound of a howl in the distance. “Where the hell even are we?”

“That is none of your busi—”

“That is none of your business,” you finished, waving your hand around as though you had a puppet in hand. “Goodness gracious, ameliorate your vocabulary, why don’t you? You’re a General. Aren’t you supposed to have a broad lexicon in reserve for?”

Ghost and Alejandro snapped their heads at your way in sync, then glanced back at each other with questioning looks, before their eyes settled on you. Meanwhile, the Shadows stepped back into the darkness of the night, hitting each other to stop themselves from laughing.  On the other hand, Soap turned to his back and hid behind the Lieutenant, pursing his lips to not let out a chortle.

Annoyed, Shepherd frowned and brought his face closer to the camera. “Get her out of my—”

“You're the personification of an egg. A rotten—” Phillip’s hand landed on your mouth and heaved you away from the device. You did not bother to struggle from his grip and simply let him bring you to the 141.

“Keep your mouth shut.” He pointed a finger at you and strode away.

A hand patted your shoulder and you turned to Soap and Ghost.

“What was that?” Soap whispered with a grin playing on his lips.

“Roasted egg,” you replied without a blink.

He snorted, brought his head down to hide his smile, and gripped your shoulder. Whilst, Ghost stepped forward to hide the Sergeant from the camera.

“Hah!” Hassan scoffed loudly, bringing everyone’s attention to him. “To think there would be someone to talk to Shepherd like that.” He shifted his gaze from the laptop to you. “You amuse me, woman. But I don’t know if you’re insane or dumb.”

“The quantity of fuck that I’m giving right now is as much as the sum of the strands of your hair and Shepherd’s,” you remarked, making Soap cough, Ghost elbowed him in a heartbeat, and Alejandro’s mouth dropped open. At the same time, the Shadows turned away and both received knocks on their heads from their leader.

Roast? No. This was fucking furnace.

“Alright, people,” the Coffin clapped his hands and stood before the enemy, “Let's get down to business.”

“To defeat the Huns?” You croaked with a straight face.

Graves could only roll his eyes and mutter, “Lord, give me strength,” Then looked back down on Hassan.

“You speak Arabic? Farsi?” Hassan questioned, to which Graves merely responded with a couple of ‘No’s. Hassan scoffed, a smirk playing on his lips. “Of course not. Then, I shall speak to your lowly, bastardized medieval English, cause you are all uneducated street dogs.”

“He sprecþ swilce he wite þa word of þam Ængliscum Seaxe mid fægere,” you crossed your arms and arched your brow. Once again, attention turned to you and you huffed as you saw Hassan's frown. You stepped forward. “See? You dare utter  medieval English in spite of the fact that you couldn't even fathom what I've said.”

(He spoke as though he knew the words of Anglo-Saxon with fluency).

“You are speaking to a Quds Force Officer.” Hassan returned the glare equally. “Watch your mouth, wench.”

You strode towards him and glared down at the man. “You call us ill-educated alley vermins when you are inferior to maggots.” Then, you put a hand on the jut of your hip. “Be grateful I haven't squashed you under my foot.”

“What's your target, Major?” Graves joined back in and you stepped to the side, to let him stand in front of the Iranian.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he spat. “What was your target when you sent missiles to my land, huh?”

The Shadow painted a smile on his face. “To burn your asses.”

You cringed at his words. “Do a better line, jeez.”

He shot a glare at you. “You’re not helping.”

“Only three things are stopping me from speaking to him fully in his language: Laziness, keeping your fragile pride intact for not knowing how to speak other languages, and so we can all talk at the same pace.” You showed him three fingers, pulled a face, and brought down your arm. “I could talk to him in Arabic or Farsi, mistranslate it intentionally, and fail this mission.”

You gave him the nicest smile you could force onto yourself. “Well, what's your verdict?”

“Just step aside and let the pros finish this.”

“Okay.” You walked back to Soap and Ghost. “Don't come crying at me if he starts talking in Arabic.”

Just as you said that, standing between the duo of the 141, Hassan Zyani began to speak in Persian, bringing Graves' eyes to you.

The group, under Shepherd's command and Laswell’s guidance, was forced to let Hassan go, after obtaining information from his phone. Unfortunately, you couldn't put a hand on Hassan physically, and you couldn't bring yourself to show the others, especially the Lt. and the Sergeant, how exactly you would like to extract intel from people.

You almost burst out laughing when Hassan went along with your humor and made it hard for the Shadow. Nevertheless, you translated for them and talked with the hostage on their behalf, while having to deal with the stare of suspicions at every word you said, which later turned out to be true with Laswell's information.

Now, you stood on top of a building, taking in the sight of El sin Nombre’s Casa, with Ghost, Soap, Graves, and the Colonel.

“My intel told me all the VIPs of Las Almas will be there tonight.” Colonel Vargas stopped for a moment and pondered over his words, making you face him, watching his reaction. “Some are invited, some . . .”

“Voluntold?” Graves guessed, in which the Mexican nodded in agreement.

“Not surprising,” you butt in. “Gatherings like this always have some unwanted rodents. Most to gather intelligence, make amends, make friends, and make enemies. An endless cycle.”

“And why do you know that?” Alejandro questioned within a blink.

“I was raised in a household where such things are quotidian.”

“Are you perhaps  a part of an international cartel or mafia?” He asked, extending a hand to the side as if he was making a point.

“No.” You shook your head. “Not really. My father is a rich man, he hosts parties a lot, and people from different places show up every time. Scheming is a part of their daily palette.”

They all eyed you with suspicions, but among them, you knew Graves who wore a straight face but narrowed eyes, knew of your true upbringing.

“Well, we'll be party poopers then,” Graves shattered the silence. “I got enough shadows to make a whole new party.”

“I prefer if you don't, Hermano,” Alejandro disagreed, stepping a bit closer to the Shadow.

He shrugged. “I'm just saying, a house is easy enough.”

“Even a mansion is easy enough,” you commented, making Graves roll his eyes.

“We are not burning it down, lass,” Phillip replied and stopped for a second before he put a hand on your shoulder, which you inched away from, but kept his grip tight. “The key to opening El Sin Nombre’s doors is you.”

You stared at the hand on your shoulder and a grimace crawled its way on your face. “Ew—”

“No, she's not doing it,” Soap argued, pulling you away from Graves' hold. “I can do it.”

“If you get in there, Hermano, they'll kill you,” said Alejandro with concern on his voice, yet at the same time a warning.

You gave the Colonel a side-eye, offended by his words. He did not disagree to Phillip’s suggestions about you infiltrating the Cartel with the possibility of dying yet immediately spoke when Soap volunteered? Well, you get it, Soap was trustworthy, being a known soldier after all. Then, there was you, a criminal and what, an annoying yapper?

Still, how could he disregard your life after you fought along side him and saved some of his men? The audacity!

Soap was a real sweetheart, though. And to uphold your deal with Price, the best course of action was to walk in the lion’s den on your own.

You patted Soap’s hand on your arm. “I'll do it, Sergeant.”

“But—”

“Intelligence is what they need, no?” You waved a hand to the side. “Then, let me serve them what they want. If their leader is inside and I've confirmed they took a bite, I'll spread the poison as quickly as I can, and get you back better meal.”

Silence once again veiled over the group, their brows knitting in confusion, and Ghost decided to rip it off.

“Speak English,” he commanded.

You sighed and rested a hand on the crook of your hip. “I infiltrate, give them info, if the leader is confirmed, we pounce, and get back more info, clear?”

“Could have said it from the start,” the Lieutenant fired back.

“I did!”

Next Chapter / Extra Chapter / Archive of Our Own

Taglist: @yyiikes , @the-faceless-bride , @cassiecasluciluce , @annoyingstrawberryballoon @unicorngirly1, @thriving-n-jiving, @squidalapobre, @tallicaside @eustassh

[bloodgulchblog]

My analog for Sangheili things is crocodilians.

We know they use incubation tanks for eggs, but also that eggs have solid shells that can be safely handled because there's a scene in Broken Circle where a Sangheili man is basically doing the Sangheili equivalent of kissing babies by helping move eggs.

There's a cultural Thing that some Sangheili are much more accepting of women fighting because they maintain a strong culture that women are permitted to defend a clutch, to the point where it's kind of a euphemism for breaking that "women aren't warriors" taboo.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Flight Practice

Aug 14th, MD Week, Prompt "Flight"

“Um… N?” Uzi's voice was warbly and wary, peering down over the top of a building into the jungle of jagged concrete below, the only light being the ethereal glow of the gas giant and it's orbiting moon to illuminate the broken city.

“Yes?” Her companion replied, cheer written into the base-code of his voice no matter his mood. His silvery hair taking on an almost angelic appearance in the light, a halo of golden lights above his head that served as his eyes. His visor displayed two golden ovals, and his mouth was upturned in a beaming smile.

“I don't know about this.” Uzi looked back at him with her purple eyelights displaying her apprehension, her purple locks becoming slightly disheveled in the breeze, a beanie keeping most of it safe, though her mouth downturn into a frown.

You see, she'd asked N tentatively to give her flying lessons after a sudden and violent transformation that had her murdering and eating a good portion of her classmates during a school trip. And since then, she'd been itching to learn how to use her new wings.

She just… kinda expected them to start on the ground.

“This is the best way to learn how to fly! If you're already high up, then we've already gotten halfway there, right?” N kept his chipper attitude, circling behind her and leaning down to be eye level. Uzi wasn't so confident… the ground looked a long way away.

“I don't even know how to take off! What if I fall?” She replied, throwing her hands forwards and gesturing to the 40 story drop that was laid out in front of her. The disassembly drone in front of her chuckling in return, his much larger frame contrasting with her much smaller one.

“Then I'll catch you.” He assured, releasing his own, bladed wings from his back, making him look all the more angelic as light filtered through them.

Uzi herself took a deep breath, looking back down at the drop before her, and her companion put a heavy, metallic hand on her shoulder.

“You've got this, and I'll be here every step of the way to get you through it. Okay?” He smiled down at her, golden eyes soft and kind as he cocked his head like some curious puppy.

Uzi felt heat come to invade her face, violet LEDs lit up on her visor to mimic a human blush, and she averted her eyes to the concrete roof to avoid looking at him any longer.

“Okay. Fine.” She huffed, only making her much more cheerful companion smile brighter, showing off his fangs.

“First step, bring out your wings.” He backed away gently flapping his own wings in her direction while gesturing to her, she looked down at herself before squeezing her eyes shut and focusing hard on trying to summon her own wings.

She pushed and pushed, but nothing was happening except her face turning more purple as she tried harder and harder, the joints on her mechanical body groaned as she strained them, and small beads of sweat formed on the inside of her visor.

“Woah, Woah! Hey, don't blow a gasket!” N crouched down in front of her, both hands on each of her shoulders as he flashed her a wary smile, “What’s up buddy?”

“Uh… I don’t know how to bring them out, I wasn’t really trying to last time.” Uzi explained, bring her hands together to wring them as N put his thumb and finger underneath his chin, sticking his tongue out as he thought. Uzi couldn’t help but laugh at how silly he looked, which may have been the entire point in him doing it.

“Well… maybe think about how it felt to have them out? Not hungry, obviously, but maybe something you enjoyed while having them out?” He suggested, backing away once more, “Whenever I want my wings, I just think about how nice it is to fly around!”

Something she enjoyed? It wasn’t a lot. She was terrified out of her mind when she’d been transformed and went crazy.

Though… even though they had been falling, talking with N had been really nice, he’d been so understanding, and didn’t once judge her or look scared…

“Hey! You did it!” She heard him exclaim, and she opened her eyes in surprise, not even realizing she’d closed them, she looked backwards and found the dull purple, tattered looking bat wings unfurled from her back, her tail was out too, looking at her curiously. She gave the wings an experimental flap, stretching them out and examining them.

“Awesome! Now all you have to do is crouch down-“ He crouched down, wings spreading out behind him before he lept up into the air with a single mighty flap, sending the newest layer of snow that had fallen onto the roof out in all directions. “-and jump while giving your wings a good flap, you don’t have anti-grav though, so make sure to keep flapping!”

She did her best to mimic his pose from before, crouching down and spreading her wings out behind her, in contrast to him, the lighting did her little favor, instead of being angelic her leathery wings made her look more demonic, the veins within the thin membrane shining through.

Then she jumped, trying to time her flap to be at the same time. And found herself going forward and upwards quickly, she felt herself smile, she did it! She took off! That wasn’t so hard!

Until the second and third flap, where momentum and inexperience caught her off balance and she went tumbling forward into a spin, hurtling to the ground at high speeds.

“OOOOH SHIIIIIIIIIIT” She yelled as she flapped her wings frantically to try and right herself, only causing her to spin faster and making her dizzy, she saw each story fly past her at insane speeds, this was it, she was going to go splat on ancient pavement and be nothing but a black stain on the ground.

She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable, but found it never came. Instead, she landed in a pair of large arms and a warm chassis, which she immediately and instinctively grabbed onto like a cat about to come into contact with water. She trembled as she wrapped her arms and legs around her savior, not caring if she looked silly or not at the moment.

“Well you took off! You just couldn’t stay up…” N laughed, finding a golden blush gracing his face at their proximity, it wasn’t often Uzi was affectionate, even if at the moment that was due to fear. “You good?”

“Y-yeah.” She replied, unconvincingly, and when they reached the top of the building again she was reluctant to let him go, at least until it became slightly awkward and she forced herself to.

“Maybe we can try another way?” N hummed, looking out over the city until a figurative lightbulb appeared over his head. “Hey, I have an idea!”

He bent down in front of her, and pointed to his back, a beaming smile on his face. “Hop on!”

Uzi blushed once more, looking away and out over the building before sighing and clambering onto his back, where his hands came to grip onto her legs, and they took off into the sky, going even higher then before.

“Okay Uzi, spread your wings!” He said once they were gliding high up over the layer of thick fog that clung to the buildings below them, Uzi felt her nerves alight as she looked down.

“What?! It’ll create too much drag! I’ll fly off!” She yelped, gripping onto him more tightly then before.

“No you won’t, trust me!” She grumbled, squeezing her eyes shut and spreading her wings, slowly letting go of N as she felt herself suddenly become weightless.

“Open your eyes!” N’s voice was somewhere below her, and reluctantly she did, finding herself gliding unaided, her wings stretched out above her and the wind whipping up around her, held up by her own wingspan.

“N! I’m flying!” She belted, not feeling this excited once in her entire life, sure she was loosing altitude slowly, but the feeling of the wind underneath her wings was so… freeing.

“Kinda! You’re gliding! Now try flapping!” He was flying belly up, ignoring the laws of physics with his anti-grav just so he could remain where she could see him, and he could remain in saving distance should she start falling again.

She flapped once, the air catching underneath her and bringing her upwards, she smiled as she was brought up closer to the clouds, and found herself laughing as she did it a few more times, enough so that her back touched the underside of a cloud and her wings parted it, leaving her mark on it.

N came up directly below her, smiling as she began to let herself loose altitude, giving her two dorky thumbs up as she giggled at him, a blush on her face she didn’t even try to hide.

“You’re doing great! You can angle your wings to go left and right!”

She did as she was told, tilting her wings so that she tilted left and right as she glided through the air, she got more confident, getting used to the feeling underneath her wings.

“This is amazing!”

N had never seen his friend this happy, and she was doing miraculously well for someone with as little experience as she had, he laughed as she figured out how to force herself downwards, gaining a little bit of speed as she went.

“Just be careful, it’s kinda foggy and any lower there might be-“ A building whipped past him, startling them both as they both looked ahead. Tall dark shapes stretched out before them, hidden by the fog but even from here they could tell that the buildings were dense. -“BUILDINGS!”

N switched over to flying belly down, using his sensors to try to map his way through the quickly approaching buildings even through he couldn’t see them very well, he tried to look for Uzi, but couldn't find her before he had to dodge another building.

Oh no… there was no way Uzi was going to get through all these buildings with her experience, and he couldn't slow down in time without risking hitting a building himself, he frantically looked around, trying to place her.

Finally, he did, just in time to see her come face to face with a dense fallen buildings, and he readied himself to go to catch her when she clipped one.

Only she never did.

She zipped past the first one, expertly gliding into a small hole and popping out the other side completely unscathed. N was taken aback, impressed with the skill.

A flag pole came into view in front of her and she angled her wings to flip over it, body arching to move out of the way and ending facing the same way she started, her face was determined and focused.

It was so… foreign. The way she moved.

He was much too heavy to consider moves like that, dodging buildings at high speeds were difficult, even for him. But she was light enough and small enough to flit over and through buildings no problem.

Another collapsed building got in her way, and instead of trying to dodge it, she scrabbled up it on all fours before taking off again, gliding from building to building without thinking twice.

It was like watching a dance, and he couldn't help the gold tinting his cheeks as he watched her spin into the air to glide through a shattered window, she was beautiful… she was-

“Agh!” He crashed headfirst into a building, chassis crumpling painfully as all of his forward momentum was suddenly stopped by a surprisingly solid concrete wall, the wall cracked when he made contact with it, creating a loud and echoed crack!

And he fell, systems going dark before he hit the ground…

… Rebooting …

“N! Oh robo-god, are you okay!?” There was a voice calling his name and flurried movement above him, every joint and plate he passed ached, and his mouth was uncomfortably dry.

“Eugh…” Was the first noise he made, voice plagued by radio-static and a million miles away, Something thick, warm, and sweet entered his mouth, making him sigh in relief.

His visuals became more clear a moment later as his nanites repaired his flattened body, Uzi was hoving over him, completely unharmed as she held a worker drone arm in her hand, it was still leaking oil. Though her visor was streaked with worry.

“Holy hell, you scared me! Your visor was dark for twenty minutes, I thought you were dead!” Her violet eyelights were filled with tears threatening to fall, and despite feeling like he'd been crushed in a compactor, he couldn't help but feel his core-beat speed up at the though she'd been so worried over him.

“Nah… M’fine. Been through worse.” He croaked put, even though he couldn't remember another time where he could feel his arm snapping back from being turned the exact wrong way.

“How did you hit something and I didn't?” She asked, after another minute of checking him over and seeing all the places his nanites were repairing.

He blushed, so his visor must be fully functional again.

“Oh uh… I got distracted…” He smiled, though awkwardly, now probably wasn't the time to tell her it was her he was distracted by.

“Pfft, see something shiny?” She teased, causing him to laugh too as he felt the last of his wounds get sealed up and the pain slowly subside.

“Yeah… something like that.”

[empresskadia]

Fractured [Master Chief | John-117]

I seriously can't stop thinking about this man, ugh, he deserves the world. I didn't know what to write, so this happened. I have John's Gentle Touches chapter kinda planned out but it's gonna be a hot minute before it gets written and posted.

Post Halo: Escalation

It was one thing to be ordered to take R&R and another to get dragged away for it, or rather, as close to R&R as one could get on a massive ship. John was sure that Kelly was going to tease him as soon as he saw her next, but he couldn't tell you no. Not when he was glad to see you alive and unhurt.

That, maybe, he didn't fail you like he did Cortana.

It was after the third mission since he had reassigned Blue team that he noticed the UNSC Infinity had added to her crew, more specifically when you had marched right into the hanger, hands placed on your hip and Kelly let out a low whistle. "Someone's in trouble." She had teased that made Linda give a short snort as they passed by.

Though it was Fred who placed a hand on your shoulder. "He's all yours, [Y/n]." The Spartan patted your shoulder gently, the request in the movement evident. 'Take care of John.' and your small nod was answer enough.

Your brow raised as the green armor approached, he was glad, no, happy to see you again. This felt like the one thing that didn't seem to have gone wrong, but it had been four years since he had last seen you. Maybe everything between you two had changed.

"Hello, John." You said with that soft smile you always give him.

Or maybe it hadn't. 

The Master Chief simply nodded in acknowledgement; he wasn't sure what to say. Where to start? The loss of Cortana was still too fresh and if he was being honest with himself, a part of him hadn't tried to find you as soon as possible. Perhaps it was the fear that you would see him differently now.

He had failed.

His thoughts were circling when he felt two taps on his chest plate. "Come back to me John. I can hear your thoughts running from a mile away."

"I-I lost her," He admitted.

You were quiet for a moment staring into his visor like you could see him through the helmet, a sad smile tugged on your lips, "I know. I'm sorry." You really were. Cortana had been your friend, one who would tease John with you, one who would help you with your projects and have late night chats with you in the lab, one who always kept you up to date on John's missions regardless of if she was supposed to or not.

"She told me to tell you goodbye. And thank you-"

"And to take care of you?" You guessed, cutting him off before you tapped his chest armor again, the clink vibrating through the air. "Let's get you out of this. I wanna see you, John." And he couldn't tell you no, whether or not he wanted to take off the armor.

He complied.

He could do orders.

He could share this loss with you.

And while he laid in your arms, out of his armor, in the silent room that was broken by your humming, your fingers slowly dancing across his bare back, John almost felt like he was home, like he could survive this loss. His arms were wrapped around your waist, his face pressed against your stomach as your nails continued their movements, gently caressing over the pattern of scars as if you were rememorizing the old ones and studying the newer imperfections. "I missed you," you whispered as your lips pressed against his shoulder, right onto a scar he received from the Didact like you knew where it had come from.  The confession was so quiet that you took in a steady breath as if you were grounding your feelings. "I thought you were gone." He could hear the small quiver in your voice.

John lifted his head a fraction, his eyes meeting yours in a silent understanding. He had missed you and feared the worst. As he looked into your eyes, he understood your fears, a mirror image of his own. The thought of losing you, of facing the galaxy without your presence, was a fear he couldn't bear to confront. John's arms tightened around your waist, not enough to hurt you but to remind him you weren't going to disappear, that you were indeed alive.

"I'm here," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, a silent vow to never let you go again. The warmth of your embrace, the gentle rhythm of your breathing. With you, he felt whole, as if all the fractured pieces of his being had finally found their place.

[petaltexturedskies]

Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight afforded by these wonderful regions, seems still to have the power of elevating his soul from earth. Such a man has a double existence: he may suffer misery, and be overwhelmed by disappointments; yet, when he has retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit that has a halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures.

Mary Shelley, Frankenstein