#camo & crooked

[the-mystery-of-christ]

⛪⛪⛪⛪⛪⛪⛪⛪⛪⛪⛪⛪⛪⛪⛪⛪⛪⛪

🔯🔯🔯🔯🔯🔯🔯🔯🔯🔯🔯🔯🔯🔯🔯🔯🔯🔯

Metatron is the Overarching Angel Of Technology.

🟥🟩🟦🟥🟩🟦🟥🟩🟦🟥🟩🟦🟥🟩🟦🟥🟩🟦

[graphicpepsi]

risk (nsfw, mdni)

OR: what happens when König gets bored on a mission and you just happen to be with him..?

König sighs, leaning back and adjusting himself for the third time in ten minutes. His sniper rifle sits loosely in his hand. Bored eyes scan the environment one final time before they land on you.

"Bored yet schatz?"

"No," You lied, "Just tired."

You had begged him for months to let you come on one of his missions. You wanted to see what a day at work looked like for him. And after months of trying (and months of the older man telling you it was too dangerous) he finally obliged and brought you along.

You wanted to match with him, so you wore camo cargo jeans and a black shirt. Even though he said this was a run-of-the-mill boring mission, adrenaline still coursed through your body at the feeling of it. König next to you, his giant arms holding a gun, the scent of his musk and cologne intoxicating in the confined space.

"I'm bored." He says as if it weren't obvious, breaking the silence. He lets the rifle fall down beside him as he stretches his arms out.

His eyes were trained on the open window infront of him. You were positioned on the highest floor of a nearby apartment complex. He told you his job was to watch for terrorists and shoot to kill.

You bounce your leg anxiously. König couldn't understand what excited you so much about tagging along with him, but it made him happy to see you like this.

Besides, you loved seeing him in his gear. Although you'd never admit it to him. To you, he was a gift from fucking god when he towered over you like that; tactical helmet, cartridges strapped to his chest, utility knives strapped to his thighs- it made him look twice as big, if that was even possible.

Watching his gloved hands unload & reload shells into his rifle could make you drool.

You look up to see his blue eyes locked on you.

"What were you thinking about, love?" He asks. His mask hides the expression beneath those unrevealing eyes.

"You."

"Ja?"

He has to be smiling, you think.

"You come on my mission to distract me?"

"You're distracting me." You correct him, " 'ts not my fault."

He pulls you closer to him in one smooth motion, his strong hands gripping your waist harshly. You're so close to him you can feel his mask move in front of you after each exhale.

"I distract you?" He repeats, tilting his head. His voice drips with knowing curiosity.

You don't try to hide the way your thighs squeeze together at the sound of his thick accent in your ear, the feeling of his giant hand on your side.

"Kö.." You breathe, barely above a whisper.

"Yes, pretty?"

You climb onto him, settling yourself down on his knee, your legs dangling on either side. He breathes out a low chuckle, like he can feel you pulsing on his knee or something.

"You want this, schatz?" He guides you back and forth on his knee with his hands, moving your body like putty, dragging your wet pussy along his thigh.

"Mmfh, please König," You bury your face in the crook of his neck, grabbing at his chest and shoulders for support.

He slides you back and forth, relishing in the way you roll your hips into his knee to get more friction. He presses you down firm as he pushes his knee against your pussy, dragging you up and down until you're a whining mess on top of him.

You're so wet but it's not enough to cum, and he knows it.

You whine into him, pathetically. "More," You try to hump his leg the best you can, but the minimal friction it gets you almost hurts.

"Poor baby," König murmurs, "Can't cum?"

You grab his shoulder as hard as you can, frustrated, even though you know he can barely tell. He grabs your hair and yanks your head out from his neck.

"Such an impatient little brat."

You roll your hips down into him as a response, mind a little hazy.

"Please Kö, so wet f'you." You mumble, looking into his eyes with puppy dog ones. He nearly growls at that. He loves when you get all riled up.

Before you can protest, he flips you around on his lap so you're facing the window, sitting in between his legs.

"Tell me if I need to shoot, ok Schatz?"

Your heart pounds at his voice in your ear, but even more so at the hand groping your pussy, thick fingers dipping into the waistband of your cargos.

"Wh- König, I don't know how to- oh, fuck."

He sinks a finger into you, sliding into your wet hole easily, like your pussy was made for his fingers.

He fucks it into you, slowly, curling it and then adding another one, then another one, and another one.

Four of his thick fingers pump inside of you, curling in just the right spot and vibrating against your pussy. He uses his thumb to press against your clit, pinching it and shaking it underneath him.

Just like that, you're reduced to a moaning, wet mess on his fingers. You lean your head back onto his shoulder, eyes screwing shut with pleasure as he starts shaking his fingers inside of you, thrusting them in and out hard.

"König, Köni, I'm gonna cum, König-" He does nothing but speed up his hand at your whines, and it's not long before you're cumming on his fingers, creamy white seeping in between the cracks. He fucks you through your orgasm, slowing his hand down finally as he curls his fingers inside of you, fucking them slowly into you before taking them out entirely.

Your legs are vibrating, and if he wasn't supporting you you'd definitely fall.

He rests his hand on top of your wet pussy, the warmth of it making you moan. You're so sensitive that just the feeling of his rough palm against your puffy clit makes you whine.

"You gonna cum for me again kitten?" He rubs his palm roughly against your pussy before slapping it hard.

You bite your hand, muffling a loud moan because it caught you so off guard.

He spanks your pussy again, harder, "Get that fucking hand away from your mouth, brat." He slaps your cunt over and over again, your clit pulsing after each spank.

It only took a few rough spanks before you were cumming again, back arching against him with a loud whine.

"Sh, sh, good girl." He strokes your pussy, almost comfortingly before pulling your cargos back up and pressing soft kisses to your shoulder as you come down, panting.

"Oh, hang on."

He hoists his rifle up to his shoulder, takes a second to aim, and then pulls the trigger, sending a shot directly into someone's head.

"There we go."

He sets the rifle back down and pulls you back onto his lap, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

"You did so well, little liebling, good girl." He coos into your ear, stroking your back.

All you can do is nuzzle into him and try to catch your breath.

A/N: that picture made me FERALLLLL y'all wouldn't even believe how i was actin writin this like barkin woofin growlin grrrrrr gyatt DAMN is this man fine. If y'all want me to write sumth just lmkkk thanks for reading

EDIT: image credits belong to @loneghostwolf

[mr-bas00nist]

Ok I know this isn't re related but I had a idea that I thought could be interesting!

Ghost from cod with a trans ftm reader he really likes but they are hung up over some woman from before they joined the military and because of that they haven't been with anyone since, and Maybe ghost proves (😏) to them that they don't need some civilian chick when they have him, "could she make you feel like this" type stuff

Also bonus but I would really appreciate it if they were described as being around the same height as him. Also like how most operators have they're country flag they have a trans flag instead. Also it would be cool if they were a masked operator too, (you can ignore all this stuff this was just extra stuff I thought up wile daydreaming about this😵‍💫)

IM STILL ALL GOOD WITH DOING NON RE REQUESTS BTW

The Things I Could Do

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x FTM! Reader

Cw: Suggestiveness

You sat in your barracks on your phone. You had your ski mask on with your usual black compression shirt and green camo pants, a usual lounging outfit. You were currently alone in your barracks looking at pictures of your favorite fling. Before you went to the military you were interested in asking her out. She had nice blond hair, pretty eyes and a nice body. You looked at the pictures you had of her on your phone before you heard the door creak open.

You look over to see Simon with his gear on, presumably back from a mission. He didn’t say a word as he began to change out of his heavy tactical gear. You looked at the man intently then back to your phone once he was changed. He looked over to you noticing you on your phone. “What are you doing?” He asks curiously. You set your phone down on your chest looking up at the celling.

“nothing special.” You spoke looking back over to Ghost. “Apparently it’s something.” Ghost spoke sitting next to you. “You’ve been on your phone for awhile. Your usually never on your phone.” He spoke raising an eyebrow under his mask. You looked at him with an amused look through your own.

“I would say I’m shocked you noticed that but I’m really not. But seriously, it’s nothing special.” You spoke with a shrug. “Looks like it. You’ve been obsessed with your phone lately.” He looked at you, you still had your eyes on the ceiling. “As your lieutenant you understand it’s my job to make sure your focused and on your best behavior right?” He spoke with his usual stern tone.

“Yes sir.” You nodded as you looked over to him. He grabbed your phone from your hands curious to see what you were so focused on. He looked at the woman on your phone then back up to you. “Is this your source of obsession?” He asks curiously. You nod a bit embarrassed and annoyed at his grab. You take your phone back putting your hands behind your head.

“Who’s she?” He asks looking over at you. “Girl I met before I joined. She sent me a text and I can’t get my mind off of her.” You spoke honestly not daring to lie to your lieutenant. “So your caught up on some girl?” Ghost asked as he looked at you with curious eyes. “Well I mean when you put it like that-“

He gives you a stern look. You sigh, “Yeah, I am caught up on some girl.” You muttered looking away. He leaned over you, “like I said, as your lieutenant it’s my job to make sure your focused and on your best behavior.” He said leaning closer to your face. You take a sharp breath looking at him with nervous eyes. “And that means by any measure.”

He grabs your belt as he tilts his head. “Come on, don’t waste your time on some civilian girl. There are so many things I could do that she couldn’t dream of.” He leaned down lifting your mask up a bit. “She could never make you feel as could as I could.” Ghost mutters into the crook of your neck. Your pulse quickens as you smile.

“You think so?” You ask with a raised eyebrow. He snickers. “I know so.”

[katz-chow]

baggage claim

a/n: having a bad night, this is my version of comfort…also self indulgent like most of my writing.

warnings: chubby!fem!reader, parental trauma, body issues, soft simon, hurt/comfort

there’s a lot of things that simon have not experienced quite yet, such things is the american airport system and how complicated tsa is. however, he landed, he walked, and there he’s faced with the rounding carousel of multicolored bags and suitcases.

he checked his ticket and looked up at the display of numbered areas. ‘11’, that’s the one.’ he watched the mouth of the conveyor belt, its plastic fringes flap against a purple suitcase…definitely not his. but still his eyes trained on that particular spot. then he let his mind wander.

long distance relationships were hard, long distance military relationships were harder. plane rides from deployment back to manchester then plane rides to another continent across the pond, lovely, just how he wanted to spend his first few days on leave: absolutely jet-lagged.

but then he thought of you, precious, precious you…oh his darling lovie and how your eyes shines whenever they make contact with his. you made it worth it. you made every crying baby on the plane, every overpriced water, and every awkward “thank you for your service” and then a bad american accented “thanks”; you made this airport journey worth it.

from here he spots his camo duffle. making way through the people, who’s eyes also trained on the infinite, snaking black, he hoisted it up and carried it with the strap on his shoulder.

his phone buzzed, whatsapp. you.

‘i’m in the lobby, by gate 2!!’

‘I’ll see you there.’

‘🥰😻🫶’

‘❤️’

and just like that, a few minutes later and a lot of sign-reading, he escaped the labyrinth of an american international airport. you stood there, hoodie and sweats on and your head bowed towards your phone. the dark sky outside and the oddly green-ish fluorescent made you look washed out, dull even. but simon knew you, he found you, he always did.

you look up, you wave, a smile adorned your face. you didn’t run up to him and tackle him in a hug that only a soldier could’ve done. and he didn’t have to lift you off the ground from the momentum of the hug, his bag dropping to the tile flooring.

instead you stood still, phone in pocket, as you waited for your boyfriend to get to you. simon didn’t understand, but he figured you might just be tired—which was fair, so was he. so he dropped his bag and wrapped his much larger arms around you, squeezing you tight and breathing you in, nose buried into the crook of your neck. “missed you…”

you smile, arms tight in between your chests as he holds you. he lets go eventually and you feel your body relax. “missed you too. let’s go home” you smiled politely.

simon’s eyebrows furrowed for a quick second but followed you anyway. thoughts ran through his head as he looks at the highway in front of him, one of his hands on your thigh as you drove the two of you home. he recalls the interaction you two had in the airport lobby. you’re distant, opting to curl up into a hug rather than hugging back and rocking side to side or jumping up and down. something’s different, something’s wrong.

his mind snaps back too as you took the exit, signaling the end is near of your driving adventure. the hum of the engine and the bumps of the road filled the air. no music. he furrowed his eyebrows again, medical mask now thrown away as he got into the safety of your car.

and now the safety of your bedroom, which is oddly quiet as he laid in bed, back slightly up as to prop himself up against the headboard. his eyes look at you drowsily as you sat on your vanity in front of the bed. you worked the multitude of skincare on your face and neck, patted it dry, and then climbed into bed, face the same emotion.

simon couldn’t take it anymore. “are you okay, lovie?”

you hummed in assurance, opting to set him down by wrapping your arms around his waist, urging him to lay down with you. he does and he holds you close, sleep flooded him, and just as quickly his succumbs.

he woke up to the sound of a hurt animal next to him, clearly in pain. he rubbed the sleep away from his eyes and looked over at this hurt animal. it was you, curled up, and softly crying.

his heart stopped as he noticed your trembling figure, even with your face pulled away from him. "lovie? are you okay?'

you hold back a whimper as you tried your best to hold back the tremble in your voice. "i'm okay...go back to sleep simon."

he grumbled as he shifted over to you, wrapping his burly arms around, pulling you close. "tell me what's wrong."

the thoughts echoed in your head, resulting in a chill that ran through each muscle of your body, or lack thereof. your mother's words criticizing how you look flows through you mind, drowing out simon's. you grip onto the back of his hand and moved it away from your stomach, ashamed of how plush it was. you can just imagine it, the way it spills out of your shirt, the different rolls, how you sit, how you stand relaxed... you hated it.

simon poked his head up, surprised by your adjustment, but respecting it anyway. his big palm then instead rubs your arm comfortingly. "will you tell me?"

"i hate it."

"hate what?" he inquired, voice low and rumbling. his breath felt hot against your ear as he whispered, fighting sleep away while also wrapped up in your soft blankets.

you finally catch your breath and turn over to him, tucking yourself under his chin, feeling his stubble as you do. you sniffled, opting to breath in his scent and distract yourself from the past with the present. "i don't like how i look."

he sighed and clicked his tongue, arms tightening around you. "has this been bothering you all day?'

he felt you nod under him as he nuzzled his cheek against the top of your head. "what's wrong with how you look, did someone say something?'

he felt you respond again, a shake of your head which led to more rubbing against his neck. "i just don't like how...big i am."

"you don't like your stomach? how soft and jiggly it is? how warm it makes my hands fill, hmm?" he sniffed and sighed, closing his eyes on top of your head. the scent of your lingering shampoo quickly lulled him in. "i love how you look, and don't say any of that shirt your mum said. don't say that shit about how i deserve better than you or something."

you moved your head away from his warm chest to protest, to say that it's true but he growled and held you tighter, preventing you from moving away. "don't even try. it's true alright? i love you and how your stomach feels when i knead it."

you whined and sniffled, his love filling up in your chest-which was once heavy with doubt. it was silly, you decided, that you think he wouldn't like you after coming back from deployment just to stare at you and gag at how ugly you look. of course not.

"you're my baby, you're mine." he reassured you, a pat and rub on your head and then a kiss on your forehead. "and i think you're beautiful."

"okay," you mumbled as he hummed a distant song that you recognize but don't quite remember all the words to. he hummed and kissed you and rubbed your head, fingers raking through the strands.

"now can we sleep?" he complained as you feel a smile form on his lips.

you pulled away from him, pouting audibly, "it's so cold."

"woman, i am literally hold you under two blankets."

yeah you were going to be alright.

[skinnyazn]

Lick Your Wounds

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader (Jaguar) Chapters: 1/? Notes: Thank you to @solidly-indulgent for inspiring the fic with their request of Jag getting injured and Ghost being sad feral, also inspired by how freaking hot and humid it’s been in FL lately, I literally just churned this out at work today oops, maybe one or two more chapters, eventual smut but not yet, sorry not sorry if there are grammatical errors; I can't fucking read,

Part Two | Part Three | AO3 | MASTERLIST

“Ghost, what’s your status?”

Sweat rolled down your temple, trickling the length of your neck before settling in the crook of your collar bone. The humidity was thick, suffocating. Like you could cut it with a knife and it would still cling to you. The jungle was alive with noise.

“‘Bout 20 meters out. There’s a good perch for you comin’ up on your right.”

“Copy.”

You continued to stalk through the foliage, thankful for the screaming cicadas that masked the sound of your movements through the dense growth of flora. 

“Visual on the compound.” Soap’s voice came through your comms evenly.

“Count?”

“Three around the perimeter, two on the roof. Jag should be able to take them no problem.”

“Copy,” you spoke again. 

You saw the perch Ghost was talking about. It was a wall of sorts, with vines reclaiming it. Some old vestige of humanity, forgotten to time. Huffing, you scaled the old stone. Laying supine, you slung your sniper rifle in front of you and peered through the scope. You could see the first target one on the roof, but the second was obscured by the dense jungle. The cicadas screamed on.

“No clear visual on the right target,” you spoke into the comms. “How do we want to do this?” You watched a mosquito buzz by and land on your arm. You slapped it, leaving a bloody splotch on your skin.

“Jag, take your shot on my mark. I’ll ‘andle the other one.” Below you, Simon waded further ahead; his camo blended into the underbrush. 

“Copy. What about the perimeter?”

“Soap, you take right, I’ll take center. Jag do you have visuals on the left?”

“Affirm.”

“Alright then. Work you magic.”

You smiled. “Always do.”

Soap scoffed on the other side of the comms. “We know. Hear Ghost blabberin’ about it all the fecking time.”

“That’ll do, Sergeant.” Ghost barked.

It wasn’t necessarily true. Most of the time his blabbering was muffled into your skin, the wetness of your mouth or the delicious heat of you. They usually came out as low groans. Sharp hisses. You hadn’t really kept what was going on between you two a secret since your rejoining of the task force. But you also didn’t air it out in the open. And when you fucked, you tried to be quiet. Easier said than done when Simon was pressed to his hilt inside of you, kissing your neck and gripping your thighs like it was his latest mission. Maybe you two weren’t being as quiet as you thought. 

“Right.” Simon’s basso voice brought your focus back. “On my count.”

The two men on the roof dropped quickly. The three on the ground followed. A smooth takedown. You slung the weight of your rifle behind you and scaled down the wall, landing with a soft thud. Some sweat splashed off you. 

“Fucking drenched here.” You mumbled to yourself. Soap’s chuckle could be heard on the comms.

“On me, at the entrance.”

A few minutes later the three of you were crouched low next to the perimeter wall.

“Nice of you to finally join us, bonnie.”

You smiled at Soap. Ghost rolled his eyes. 

“Jag, get up to the perimeter and guide us through. Soap, on me. The cunts will be well-armed inside the compound. Let’s keep things quiet and clean.” Soap and you nodded. “Right, let’s get up there.”

Soap shot a grapple to the perimeter wall.

“Ladies first,” he gestured, with his signature buoyant grin.

You clipped your pulley to the rope and ascended. The brief rush of air was a blessed respite from the heat. Hoisting yourself over the wall’s edge, you crouched down. Insects were already starting to buzz around the lifeless man on the floor. You tried not to get any of his blood on your boots as you stepped over him.

Ghost and Soap followed quietly behind. You pressed your body against the hot concrete.

“Christ alive, look at all that,” Johnny whispered next to you.

It was decent sized compound, hidden away in the Lacandon jungle. Stacks of crates littered the grounds, while armed men wandered about. Their radios blasted urbano music. In total, you counted 15 men out in the open, but who knows how many more were inside. Of course the target building was at the far side of the compound. It wouldn’t be a cakewalk, but it was doable. And, the blasting music paired with cacophony of tropical birds and insects made for perfect cover. Soap’s hand clapped your shoulder.

You nodded at him and Simon. “Good luck, boys.”

“Don’t need luck. We’ve got you, Jaguar,” Soap winked and then started to descend the rope on the interior.

Simon’s eyes lingered on you for a second too long. You held the gaze. Then he turned and followed Soap.

After silently taking down the first two men, Ghost and Soap moved quietly ahead.

“Walk us through, Jag,” Simon’s voice came over hushed and gravelly. Try as you might, it always sent heat between your legs when he rasped through the comms.

“One on your left, just around the crate. Use your knife.” Simon took him down with ease. “Got another two crates ahead.” You maneuvered the two through the complex from you perch, watching them exact their deadly dance. “Hold,” you spoke when the two came closer to the target building. A group of four men were lingering outside, chatting and smoking. “Coming up on four. Might be best to cause a distraction.”

“Can’t we just frag these guys,” Soap muttered to himself.

“How many left in the compound, Jag?” Simon asked.

“Two in the North East corner, and one at your eight o’clock. And the four ahead.”

You heard Simon let out a long sigh. 

“Don’t know how many are inside though,” you reminded him.

“Thas what I’m worried about.”

“Your call, L.T.,” Johnny huffed. “They’re gonna hear some booms when I demo the door anyway.”

You could almost hear Simon thinking. You wiped the sweat that was beading at your brow with the back of your gloved hand. Finally he said, “Jag, take the other three. Soap’s got these four. Be prepared for a fight after.”

Your heartbeat sped up. You hated unknowns but that was part of your job. So all you could say in return was “Copy.”

Each kickback from your M82 was a tangible reminder of the death you so expertly dealt. The three men went down with ease, painting the sun-scorched earth in red. And when Soap’s grenade went off, you sucked in a deep breath and honed your focus as you picked off the swarm of men that rushed outside. Time had a funny way of moving while adrenaline coursed through your veins. It was simultaneously slow and fast. Like each bullet left your gun in slow-motion while you moved from target to target. Schrödinger’s Time. 

There were a lot more people than you thought, but the steady breathing over the comms was reassuring that Soap and Ghost were handling themselves. Through your scope, you watched men’s heads swivel as they tried to spot you. But each tac from your rifle met them all the same.

“Take out that fucking RPG, Jag!” Simon shouted over the comms. It was jarring, Simon’s yelling amidst the gunfire and insects.

You pulled away from your scope to spot the target, but the compound was big. When you finally saw him, you lined up the shot and pulled the trigger. You’d hit your mark—watched him crumple. But his aim was already on you, and as his body fell a flash of orange emitted.  You began to move but felt the explosion of the perimeter wall below you. And then everything was crumbling in an eruption of dust. You thought you heard Simon screaming into the comms, but all you could think about as you fell was: who the fuck carries a rocket launcher?

[bits-and-babs]

I am so, so sorry for what you are going through.

I'd like to request another Kane x fem!reader, with them being inside the shimmer. Some of the prompts I love are 2, 11, 23, 37, 42! Was thinking what if reader was close with a different soldier, and was growing closer as things looked bad, though you and that soldier were never anything more than two friends comforting each other in the face of the end, and Kane finally snapped?

Thank you so much for the opportunity to request! Much, much love to you.

-ˋˏ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍-𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 ˎˊ-

— pairing: Kane (annihilation) x F!Reader

— word count: 1k

— warnings: light dub-con elements, creepy elements, biting, choking, jealous sex, breeding kink, cream pie (yes, I know, I have an addiction, WRAP IT KIDS), reference to murder. 18+ you nasty nasties.

kane masterlist I| main masterlist |l send me an ask

It rattles against the bars of his very being, the creature that had been rearing its ugly head since the moment he stepped in here. It’s snarling, threatening to burst through its confines when he sees Vallows wrap his arms around your shoulder in a comforting squeeze.

He’s curdling, twisting into something obscene in his envy.

“Hey,” Kane calls out, voice tight. He sees you look over your shoulder, startled by the noise with these round puppy-eyes that set him alight on the inside, flames of his desire swallowing the creature whole. He crooks a finger at you, watching you approach with a nervous expression on your face as though he’s about to whip you for miss-stepping.

“Come here,” he orders, and his stomach flips when you do exactly that, footfalls stepping in time with his own as he leads the way into the overgrowth. It’s vile, the sickly greed that had enveloped him since entering The Shimmer. Things weren’t right here; reality fundamentally twisted.

You look up at him with this expectant gaze that makes his body sing for you, the threads in the fabric of his being tearing with their need for you. When you open your mouth to question his taking you aside, Kane descends on you with an animalistic groan, smothering your lips with his own and grabbing at your body with greedy hands.

He should be appalled with himself, but you’re wrapping your arms around him suddenly, pulling his body into your own and breathing his name into his mouth— not his title, his name.

The both of you stumble into the flowering overgrowth, the pink petals of the blossom flowers shimmering rainbows like an oil slick as he rips off your camo trousers, his lips brushing the collar of your khaki polo shirt when he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of your throat.

“Kane!” You wail out his name and a pulse of something ravenous washes over Kane’s body. If he wasn’t already scrambling, he’s practically tearing your clothes off you when he tastes the iron of your blood on his tongue. Fuckfuckfuck, he needs this. He needs it. You’re not Vallows’. He can’t have you. You’re his.

He sucks on the split skin across the column of your neck, tasting more of the red blood that stains his teeth. You’re arching off the soil beneath you, pushing your breasts into his chest and whining at the sensation of pressure against your nipples.

“Fuck,” he groans loudly, the envious monster scratching in the pit of his stomach gaining some relief when you work your fingers into his dark curls and press a kiss to his lips. You’re licking your tongue into his mouth, tasting your own blood on his enamel, and Kane’s cock leaps against the zipper of his uniform.

Christ, you barely give him a moment to respond. Your fingers don’t tremble when they reach for the zipper, ripping it down and working his belt open. Not bothering to remove it from the loops, you pull the button quickly, the metal of the buckle hanging at his hip rattling as you work his clothes down his thighs.

Kane growls loudly, grabbing your hips in a bruising grip and yanking your body across the emerald grass to pull you into position. It’s like you know, your thighs hiking up over his waist. You breathe in tandem, sharing one brain as Kane works his cock inside of you with a feral hiss of your name.

“Oh- ohfuckohfuck-“ the praises spill from your lips and it blooms a vengeful pride through Kane’s chest as he brutally slams into you. It’s earth-shattering, each slap of his skin on yours causing your body to hike up the soil and away from him until Kane grabs you and spears you back down onto his cock with a particularly vicious thrust.

“Mhm- Mhm, this fu-fucking Vowels-“ Kane spits, a rasp of something unhinged playing on his voice when you flutter around his cock, pussy gushing against his length, “Could he fuck you lik-like I can? Hmm? Could he fuck you like I can?!”

You’re sobbing loudly, shaking your head quickly as he fucks you into the floor. He can’t help but laugh cruelly, noting the way you look like the antithesis of those nodding-head dogs you see on people’s dashboards because you don’t stop rocking your head left and right.

“Didn’t t-think so,” he gasps as he feels you roll your hips up to meet his, chasing the orgasm you appear to be teetering on.

“Scream my name. Fuckin’ tell him who you belong to, Angel. Come on! I’ll fucking fill you up; go on-“

You do, God, you do. It breaks you apart, shatters your being as you cum around him with a scream of his single-syllable name that bounces off the bark of the shimmering trees surrounding you.

The hoarse cry you let out has him spilling into your sopping cunt, haggard shouts of your name bleeding between your whines. He feels like he pumps you full, painting his cock with a creamy slick as he continues to thrust in and out of you at a slower pace.

Only when you both pause, Kane leaning over you on shaky arms, does reality begin to ebb back into his consciousness, your heaving chest beneath him lulling him back to the sounds of The Shimmer. Birds that sound off, the beauty of the surroundings shifting ever so slightly to reveal the horrors beneath- rotting.

His post-orgasm haze seems to shake the overwhelming jealousy ever so slightly, just enough to give him pause. Shock stills his heart, his eyes staring down at you in fear of his atypical actions.

But he finds it so hard to feel guilt when you look at him, eyes all blissed out and lids hooded.

The Green-Eyed Monster rears its ugly head once more. It couldn’t bear the concept of Vallows taking you for himself.

Kane would have to remove him from the equation.

END

[silverior968]

Tfp gijinkas (3/4) The Wreckers :] I ljike them

Post 1 Post 2

[Image ID: A character sheet with two characters on it. On the left is a human version of Bulkhead from Transformers Prime, who is drawn as a fat black man in his early 40s. His hair is dark brown with a single gray streak in it, and tied in a low ponytail. He also has a beard and thick eyebrows. His eyes are dark brown and he is grinning. There are multiple small scars on his face. His outfit consists of a green camo jacket with reinforced black patches on the elbows and shoulders, a black t-shirt with the autobots logo on it, black and gray work gloves, green cargo pants and brown hiking boots. The design notes placed around him read as follows: "For him and Wheeljack I tried to aim for the early 40s ballpark", "he gets a few gray hairs as a treat", "I incorporated the logo into his design as a print on his t-shirt. It ended up looking like a band shirt, which would be a fun AU idea, if slightly worrying (no band should be injury-prone enough to need a surgically trained doctor on constant standby)" "proper sturdy work boots- also suitable for hiking". To his right is a human version of Wheeljack from the same franchise, drawn as a lean white man in his early 40s. His hair is ash-colored and very shaggy. On his head he has a dark brown cowboy hat. His eyes are grey and he has a slightly crooked nose, like it had broken before and never set the same way as it was before. He also has many small scars on his face and is grinning. In addition to his hat, his outfit consists of a white, green and red plaid shirt that's half tucked, a light gray aviator jacket, a dark brown belt with a silver buckle, dark red trousers and dark brown boots. He is holding his hat with one hand. The character design notes placed around him read as follows: "I want to put him in a salad spinner", "this jacket used to be white but it hasn't been washed like ever", "I accidentally made him look too cool so I had to give him the most dripless outfit ever", "I just had to give him a cowboy hat - he probably never takes it off because he's developed hat hair like this". The last note has a small doodle of him without his hat on, showing that the hair at the top of his head is perfectly smooth thanks to the hat. / End ID]

[html-nae]

T O O F A S T

42!Miles x fem!OC

COLLEGE!AU

(Miles is aged up to be around 21 just to fit the scenario…. THERE IS NO SMUT!!!!!)

WC: 979

The bass of the music vibrated through the floors and the multitude of people made the room hot and humid. Everyone was either dancing against someone or drinking and partaking in the smoke session going on in the house.

The building was crowded and lively, seeing as it was a party to kick off the new school year.

The purple LED lights set a different tone for the night and the choice of music only made it more clearer. It looked something straight out of a music video, almost as if everything was going in slow motion.

Smoke was high in the air making everything look clouded and the loud music drowned out any screaming or noise going on around the party goers.

Red solo cups, random bottles, and half eaten bags of chips littered the counters in the kitchen as Armani looked for a bottle of water to cool down. The short sheer black one piece she wore was rising a little bit and she made no effort to pull it down, too focused on the task at hand.

Crew blasted through the speakers as couples pressed against each other and rocked to the beat of the song. Armani checked the time on her phone while walking out the kitchen, deciding to give up on her mission. She bumped into someone causing her to take a step back.

“I’m sorry.”

She said while looking up at the guy. He was taller than her, even with her heels on. His hair was in two braids that reached his shoulders and he sported a crisp white shirt with camo cargo pants and all white forces. The silver chain and rings glowed under the purple LED lights.

“It’s all good, Ma. Just be careful. I’m Miles.”

He said while he held out his hand. Armani looked at it before placing her hand in his.

“Armani.”

Miles grabbed her hand and raised it above her hand, spinning her around in a circle slowly.

Armani looked up at the boy, his eyes were already on hers. They were almost a hazel color and his lashes were thick.

“Nice to meet you Mani.”

Miles said with a small smile.

“You have a pretty smile Miles.”

She said, keeping her eyes on him. His smile turned into a smirk and his eyes lowered.

“Thank you Ma. You’re really beautiful, you know that?”

Armani smiled and Miles took in her features. They were highlighted by the lights and enhanced her face.

“I’ve heard it a few times.”

Miles chuckled under his breath and grabbed her waist.

“You trynna dance?”

The Afro-latino nodded towards the living room. His eyes never leaving hers. The brown haired nodded and interlocked their hands together, leading the way.

Sonder’s Too Fast started playing.The party goers grabbed whoever was closest to them and pulled them closer, Miles doing the same as the vibe of the party started getting more sensual.

He held Armani by the waist and stared down at her. Miles’ eyes were lidded and his gaze was almost intimidating. Armani felt flustered but kept her composer as he lowered himself and spoke into her ear.

“So what’s up with you, Ma?”

“Whatchu mean?”

She shot back. He turned her around so her back was pushed against his front and wrapped his arms around her waist with his head on her shoulder.

“I can get your number?”

Miles asked, his braids brushed over her exposed shoulder as he angled his head and placed it in the crook of her neck. His breath tickled her neck and she jerked slightly at the feeling.

Armani turned around and moved her arms around his neck looking up at him.

“I thought that was a given.”

His hands ghosted the small of her back as he watched her move to the rhythm of the music. Miles hummed and rocked to the beat of the song.

The electric guitar started playing as the second part of the song began.

Instead of the calm purple color the lights changed to a deep red.

Armani unwrapped one of her arms from around Miles’ neck and hooked her finger under his chain, pulling him closer to her.

His breath ghosted her lips and Armani could taste the mint on his breath.

“Whatchu want, Ma?”

His voice was low as he licked his lips and flickered his eyes down to her lips.

They were slightly parted and shiny from the lip gloss.

“I think you know.”

Armani said. It came out like a whisper, and he almost didn’t hear her over the music. He could smell the vanilla perfume she sprayed on herself and he was certain she could smell his cologne.

Miles hummed once more and gripped her side tighter as he kissed her.

‘I hope you're hurting’

The guitar riff filled the room as Armani and Miles kissed. The red lights made it hard to know where one body ended and the other one started. It was a slow and sensual kiss and made it all the more addicting to the two college students.

Miles brought his ring clad hand up to cradle the back of her head as Armani brought her hands up to his hair, her manicured nails scraped the back of his neck.

Armani pulled away first and giggled when Miles followed her, trying to kiss her again.

“Whatchu doing after this, ma?”

Miles questioned rocking her back and forth.

“Going with you.”

Miles smiled and grabbed her hand pulling her towards the door.

“You like Waffle House?”

Armani nodded as Miles led her towards his car and opened the door for her.

The smell of his cologne engulfed her as she sat down while Miles shut the door and hurried towards the drivers side of the car.

“To Waffle House we go.”

He said as he grabbed her hand and kissed it.

[summermoonshine]

It was late August ;

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader.

Click HERE for the AO3 version. Synopsis: the tale of a summer... and its end. Content: angst; romantic; bit of fluff; slice of life; GhostxReader; Note: I cried, bye.

It was late August ;

But before that, it was a peaceful May night that turned into June when your eyes met for the first time, and with June came the bright stars, the clean skies, the colourful flowers, the heat that turned into warmth on his torn and tattooed skin, the fresh nocturnal wind and birds chirping a less harsh dawn than the winter one.

A dawn shared, after so many years, with someone by his side.

His shoulder dropping its weight lightly on yours, and that crisp, new feeling of possibility.

In mid-June his first laugh; a real laugh, not a smile, not a smirk: a sincere laugh that made his eyes shape like two crescents.

Your heart skipped the first of many more beats, and when your hands found each other for the first time – when you two were sitting on the hood of his SUV looking at the lights of the sleeping city – you knew not to have been born by chance, and that you didn't want to spend that night alone.

After that one, many others followed.

Your clasped hands were enough, though; there was no need for anything else if you had each other.

His insomnia, always present, had become almost a gift: your profile illuminated by the first summer moon, your hair ruffled by the silk pillowcase, your little kissable nose; his arms around your little body.

''Get away from me, doll. There's still time'' - he whispered in the crook of your neck at the end of June.

Each night, every night; softly.

''Go, get away from me. You know I don't deserve you.'' He held you tight, kissed your round cheeks, full of life and sweet as juicy peaches.

''Run away, hurry, I don't have to see you…” He used to say.

“But how, how can I do it if – even if I wish you would leave me – I don't want to lose you?'', and he held you tight and close again, like no one had ever done, kissing your back.

Again, again, again.

''I'm not what you believe me to be, forgive me, doll. I didn't fall from the sky: I re-emerged from the underworld. I'm only capable of losing the ones I love the most'' – he said one night in mid-July.

His perfume, his big body curled up and sweaty stuck to yours, so gentle, healthy and clean compared to his, full of scars, cuts, history: was he sobbing?

Your long, black eyelashes, your big eyes, your relaxed face.

They were the only things that kept alive that man who had been believed dead for years, perhaps since ever, during these months.

Your delicate hands, so tiny, soft – healings, were saving him with every touch of yours.

"Touch me only with your eyes" he had whispered one evening on your doorstep with his camo still on and the tiredness of a day spent in the barracks written in the eyes, but you knew well that what he meant was something else.

So your sweet and full lips had touched his above the mask fabric and it had slipped away, his shampoo-scented dark blond curls had welcomed your hands as if it were natural, and his skin, when you began to taste it in every corner of his body, had become your favourite flavour in this universe.

"I only know how to deceive, make people suffer and make them cry. Stop before it's too late, doll", but you wanted him; and he wanted you.

You knew it and he knew it too.

That strong pain in the centre of his chest suggested it to him whenever he looked at you, whenever he loved you at night, between the creaks of an old creaky bed and a distant, barely lit, strawberry and mint scented candle; lit just like that small - but still alive - flame that lit up the big broken heart of that so big, so sad, but so damn good man for, to and with you.

The first nights of August were a continuous fire.

And there was no sun that could compare with what you and he had created: you were explosive.

Your lips spoke a sweeter and warmer tongue; the pain you didn't know was now infinite pleasure, and his kisses cured everything you thought your body couldn't handle - but in the end you always made it, and this ending was the most delicious ever. Your moans were the fuel of that tireless man and his coaxing sweet, pillow talk.

“I have no eyes, no heart for anyone. None but you, you…” and a warm tear ran down his cheeks and settled on your abdomen. He remained embraced by your hips, your pale hands in his now freshly buzzed hair for the upcoming mission.

It was almost, but his 100 kg resting on your lap reminded you that it wasn't time yet, that it wasn't the time yet, that he was still talking to you.

Because yes, he talked, he always used to talk to you at night. He thought you were asleep, but you were not.

But how? How do you do such a thing? What do you say back and why? The sunlight hardened him, pushed him away from you; the night joined your paths and his heart seemed able to beat, to come back to life. And so you had always kept silence in those moments just to hear his voice, even though you were the real chatterbox - his favourite one. A real relentless talker, always with something to say and that bright smile ready to pain his heart.

He, collector of your speeches, your words, your fears, weighed the words as if they were dangerous, but how many times would he have wanted to tell you that you were his truth, his tranquillity and his cure; that you were saving him, that there was only you, that he had placed his destiny in your hands; because he knew it would all end - that it would have to end, that he had to save you, that all this was an illusion, a delirium, the most difficult torture he would have had to face at the moment of saying goodbye, because he knew he didn't have much time left in his favour.

“Before time runs out, I want you to know that you’re the love of my life. I owe you this, I owe you everything, my doll’’ –

Simon would have wanted to tell you this each and every time that you were next to him, that you were away from him, that you crossed his mind, that he smelt your smell or just imagined it, but nothing like that had ever crossed his lips.

Too hardened as he was by the life itself, he did not feel worthy to speak of love, nor to be worthy of being loved.

It was late August when you, the girl with her head on the moon and up in the clouds, were hit by the biggest pain bomb you've ever experienced and which - you were sure - you would never get over.

Silence had stolen all your words, and that strawberry and mint candle went out at the exact moment in which the house intercom had rung and that man in a uniform, who was not YOUR man in uniform, had handed you the box that now – at this precise moment – you have in front of you, on the low wooden table in the living room crafted by none other than the man you’ve been missing for the past 3 weeks; the table where you lean as if under anaesthesia in search of support; your heavy eyes wear out at the sight of those objects rigorously placed next to each other, as if by keeping them close you could piece together a puzzle whose pieces are burning in front of you.

A crumpled, bloodstained envelope.

Inside of it: a small photo of you and a yellowed sheet: just a couple of short sentences written on it.

On the table, next to this letter-like hurtful bomb, a plastic bag with a metal plate with some letters engraved on it: a military dog tags.

''Lieutenant Simon Riley ''Ghost'', RH+, 237509, Unknown, other''.

You re-read the sentences written in black ink on the blood-stained sheet of the letter: the endearing handwriting that you loved so much and that will never again be able to hatch words, and yet another hot, stinging tear scratches your face and breaks your soul into dust:

"I know you've always been awake. I will come back to hug you every night. I promise, doll.

I am sorry, thank you and… I love you.

Yours forever,

Simon."

It was late August when silence devoured your life, when the wind turned cold and life became a distant diary memory;

It was late August when his heart stopped beating – and so did yours.

It was just late August…

🥀

[denim-devil]

Kinktober day 6 — Hairpulling/Dirty talk

Pairings — Steve Harrington x Male reader

Summary — Knowing that this could be the last time you see eachother, the both of you can’t hold back on your need for the other…

A/N — Yes…I know it sounds a tad- having sex in the upside down but Steve in that army gear or whatever it was (S)CREAM- anyways enjoy!

──────. • ☆:*.☽ .* :☆ﾟ• . ──────

“Take these off.” He whispers, soft yet low as he forcefully pulls apart the button of your jeans. The tone does things to you. Steve always had the spirit of a leader, one that had his ways set, especially with you.

Your jeans were the hardest part, yanking the thick material down until they pooled around your ankles, your boxers joining once his finger tips tug down the thinner, loser material.

Steve’s hands searched the front of you, eagerly wrapping around your cock, you gained a few quick tugs before he retracted, nestling his face between the crook of your neck, his own body pressing against your back, trapping you against the textured bark of the tree and the ruffled wrinkles of his camo shirt.

“Fuck-“ Steve groaned, hazel eyes looking over your arched figure, your lips hanging agape at the growing coil in your stomach, the ache from your own cock was enough to handle.

“I got you this hard?” Steve couldn’t help but smack it a few times, watching it bob. You hiss but not out of discomfort, more so from the waves of pleasure you got every-time he touched the tip.

You nod eagerly, which was more of a sign then anything that Steve had to act quickly, especially with the plan you had in store, that Steve put in place to ensure that the town of Hawkins would come out on top.

But you were just so damn addictive. Kicking down his own trousers and boxers, his cock slaps against his clothed stomach, causing an echo to ring throughout the baron woods.

The bark was cold underneath your fingertips, but the warmth from Steve was enough to keep your shivers at bay. The thunder cackled throughout the dystopian woods, reminding you both you were on a time limit.

You could feel the presence of something heavy resting between you cheeks.

“I need you- shit; Steve ple-please”

Steve reaches down to grab the base of his well-endowed member. He looks down at you one more, as if he was asking permission, you nod, sinking back into him once he pushes past the tight ring of muscle.

You mewl at him once he bottoms out, both of you panting, realising what was eventually going to happen, it pushed the both of you to get started, Steve already slowly pulling out slammed impatiently back into your warmth with a squelch.

“You okay baby?”

It took you time, it was as if the burn he was producing had taken control over you but you learned that it would soon go away, you just had to get use to him.

“Y-Yeah- don’t stop”

You gripped tightly onto the tree, holding yourself up to stable your balance, Steve’s thrusts were particularly harsh, rough even, the grip on your hips was destined to bruise, although you had no care.

“I won’t- shit I never would, always going to fuck you like you deserve, fast and rough; slut-“

Steve’s hands buried themselves in your hair, tugging harshly, bringing your body into his own, whispering a few “fucks” with each roll of his hips.

Your eyes watered at the forceful tug but he kept your head back, resting against his shoulder, practically using it as a tactic to hold you still.

“Steve- it hurts”

You sank back into Steve, your back resting on the camo that covered most of his body. Your hands rake through his hair, pulling him into a kiss that would leave you both breathless, his tongue ravished your own, slipping and sliding.

You pull away once the tip of his thick cock grazed against your prostate, he felt almost impossible deep now with his balls resting against your thighs.

“I know baby, hang in there, doing so good for me, so , so fucking good”

“Steve–” You impatiently groan, loudly. Steve’s hips began pistoning inside you, one of his larger hands spreading your legs, moving it up until he reached his limit deep inside of you, hitting that spot on almost every other thrust.

“Come on- I know your close, cum for me, cum around my cock honey, let me see it-“

His words were enough to send you over the edge, his lips attaching your neck with each load you shot up against the cracked wood of the tree you were pressed up against.

Steve followed upon hearing your broken whimpers, load after load filling you up, his cock dragging back and forth slowly as he twitched against your body, his low groans deep in your ear.

You both stuck to eachother, half matted with sweat, half cold from the unnatural breeze the upside down created.

“Fuck…god knows I fucking needed that”

You both chuckle before turning to him, smiling.

Steve had you and he wasn’t letting you. He rutted up against you before pulling out, watching a thick stream of white gloop slip from your used hole.

Steve admired his work before slowly dressing you, pressing chaste kisses to your forehead.

“Come on, the others will he waiting…” he trailed off before grabbing your hand, helping you along the woods rocky floor.

[jackrabblt]

Neopet Adoptables

Camo Gelert

15 usd

Buy on kofi !

Feel free to suggest more prompts, submit 3 emojis and a specific neopet (can include hybrids) and I may make them ! (Anyone can use prompts, not just me)

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Damage Control - 2x21 All Hell Breaks Loose - Part 1

Bobby feels his age when he runs after the black kid in the camo fatigues. He’s losing ground quickly and his heart is hammering in his chest, but it doesn’t seem to give out on him until he hears Dean’s scream somewhere behind him.

“Sam!!!”

It’s a desperate scream, raw with anguish, and it stops Bobby in his tracks, chilling him to the bone. The eerie silence that follows doesn’t make it any better. All Bobby hears are the black kid’s boots splashing through the mud, away from him, as he disappears in the foggy darkness. 

Please, God, no. 

Bobby turns back around, no air in his lungs, pulse thrumming in his ears, and, in the distance, he sees a crumpled silhouette - two entangled bodies, kneeling in the rain. 

No. Please. 

Bobby wills his legs to move. Coming closer, he hears Dean sob. Sam is in his arms, limp, his too-long arms dangling lifelessly at his sides, a dark red spot glistening on the back of his jacket. Dean is cradling him, inconsolable, rocking back and forth, face buried in the crook of his baby brother’s neck. 

“Dean?” Bobby asks, although there is no point. There’s also no point in taking Sam’s cold hand and searching his wrist for a pulse. Sam’s face is slack against Dean’s quaking shoulder, blood oozing from his open mouth, and his skin is already taking on the gray, translucent hue of death. 

Bobby, too, sinks onto one knee, the mud immediately soaking through the faded denim of his jeans, and the rain falls harder now, dripping from Bobby’s trucker cap and running down the back of his neck. Dean is still rocking Sam in his embrace, his fingers white-knuckled where he’s clutching Sam’s jacket, the brown fabric in his grip dark with rain and even darker with blood that has stopped spreading now that Sam’s heart is no longer beating.

“Goddammit, Sam…”

Tears pushing up his throat, Bobby brushes one gentle, shaking hand over Sam’s hair, wet and too long for his own good. Then he slings both arms around his boys - one dead, one broken in grief - and holds them as best as he can. 

It takes a long time to pry Sam’s body out of Dean’s arms. They’re all drenched and ice cold when Bobby can finally convince Dean that it’s time to move, to at least get Sam’s body out of the rain and into one of the vacant houses of the farm. Sam’s corpse is heavy and unwieldy with his freakishly long limbs, now boneless and threatening to drag in the mud as they carry him inside and put him on the bare mattress of a long-abandoned bed. 

Dean’s a mess. He’s sitting on the bed beside Sam, one hand on his brother’s still chest, tears silently rolling down his face as he stares at him with big, bruised eyes. The kid’s soaked and shivering so hard Bobby can hear his teeth chatter. He needs to get him out of his wet clothes and warmed up, but if Bobby has learned one thing about Dean in the last twenty years it’s that touching him in a state like this will earn him a bloody nose or a broken jaw. 

At least there’s a fireplace in the room, so Bobby uses some of the rotting furniture as firewood. The room lights up in an ominous play of orange light and pitch-black shadows as the flames start to dance, and Dean’s profile looks absolutely feral in its rippling glow, his tears a stark contrast to the set of his jaw and the gleam in his eyes.  

Bobby knows the kid. A tough shell - near impenetrable - hides a soft core in this one, vulnerable particularly to guilt and failure, and he protects it with a thick layer of anger. Dean’s shoulders broadened early in his life after John placed too much responsibility on them - the responsibility for Sam. Although Bobby tried to lift the weight off Dean whenever the boys landed in his care, it was no use. Dean never let his little brother out of his sight, like a soldier on eternal watch. 

Sam going to Stanford, Bobby had thought, would give both boys a chance to go their own way. And for a while, it had seemed that way, even if Dean had seemed to drift after their separation, copying John for lack of purpose. Sam had thrived; Dean had been a work in progress. 

The two of them banding together again had brought that process to a hold - and started a new one. With joy, Bobby had watched these two chuckleheads squabble while gradually redefining their roles and their relationship. But one thing never changed: Dean kept looking out for Sam. It was his purpose - or at least what John had made him believe -, and losing his little brother like that… 

Looking over at Dean, Bobby sees those broad shoulders slumped in failure, and he feels guilt and self-loathing roll off the boy in dark and heavy waves.

A puddle of rainwater and mud has formed around Dean’s scuffed boots. He’s still shivering but doesn’t even seem to notice. 

This has got to stop.

“Dean?”

No reaction.

“Dean!” Bobby steps closer, probably risking life and limb as he reaches out one hand to gently put it on Dean’s shoulder. He’d expected Dean to whip around and snap at him, maybe even punch him. It’s what the kid does when he’s hurting - lash out. Not this time, though. Dean flinches under his touch, spooked, as if he’d forgotten someone else was in the room. Then he turns a gaze on Bobby that makes the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end - it’s the dead gaze of someone who is past saving.

“What,” Dean says, voice flat and empty. 

“You’re soakin’ wet,” Bobby tells him, his own voice not as steady as he’d like. “And it’s cold. I got some spare clothes in my car. I’m gonna go and get them for you.” The faded pair of jeans and worn-out flannel from his trunk will be too wide and too short for Dean, but at least they’ll keep him warm. There’s a blanket, too.

Dean eyes him, unblinking, then trains his gaze back on Sam. “I don’t care.”

In the orange glow of the fire, Sam’s body looks less ghostly and ashen. You could almost believe he was only asleep if it wasn’t for the utter stillness of his chest. Dean’s hand is still resting on his heart, as if waiting for a rekindled beat. But in Dean’s eyes, Bobby sees the horrific depths of all hope lost.

Bobby takes a shaky breath and rubs his beard. “I know you don’t care. But I do. And I’m not gonna sit here and watch your stubborn ass go into hypothermia. You stay put! I’ll be right back.” 

He doesn’t like leaving Dean alone like this. Doesn’t like the pearly glint of Dean’s gun peeking out of his waistband, or the feeling in his gut. Regardless, he turns around and steps outside again, into the pelting rain, trusting that Dean is too out of it and too paralyzed by grief to do something stupid.

As fast as his legs will take him, he treks through the mud, icy rain dripping from his hat, hoping no single gunshot will break the eerie silence of this dark, dark night.

The Damage Control Series - Masterlist

Read the whole series on AO3 here:

[draculas-curse]

Four people sit in a car. With Light's castle is crumbling behind them, disintegrating in the middle distance, fading into the coming dawn and turning to golden sunlight. The skies are bright, and the birds are chirping.

"Are you okay?" Yoko asks, concerned, from the back seat, curled up to one side and leaned against the window door. Alucard is pushing against her otherwise, using her side as a headrest and throwing his legs across the entire rest of the seat row, which is why she doesn't have any more space.

"Mmh," replies Alucard, perfectly succinct. Even though he's hogging almost all the space, he still has to bend his knees up, not enough space in the car lengthwise to accommodate him.

Julius taps his fingers against the steering wheel rhythmically, staring stoically forwards. He's waiting for the castle to finish returning itself to ash before he starts driving, but it's taking longer than anticipated, because the subterranean levels have to filter away too. It's not even Julius' car.

Hammer sits in the passenger seat with his head in his hands.

Yoko's hair is tangled, Alucard lost his suit jacket somewhere and didn't go back for it, Julius' fur print is stained, and Hammer is probably dissociating.

"It's just," continues Yoko, to the abject silence of the car around her aside from the low thrum of the engine, "you get really nasty when you stay up for more than 5 hours at a time, you know?" She sounds earnest instead of catty, peering at Alucard with worry despite how he's crowding her against the door without a hint of personal space or remorse left to show for it.

"I know," Alucard says, and throws his arm over his eyes haphazardly, though they were already shut. He sounds oscitant, the ends of his choppy non-sentences curling with fatigue. "I don't mean to take it out on you," but it's entirely unclear what he's referring to or what he did, because to everyone else in the car, Alucard is the same as ever. Yoko nods anyway, falling silent, and looks out the window absentmindedly. Alucard is falling asleep.

The castle finally finishes falling apart, the last few straggling trails of the cultists' ambition becoming motes of dust in the risen sun. Julius squints as the sunlight bursts through the car windows, then tugs down the sun visor. Alucard groans into the crook of his arm. Yoko kindly takes off her capelet, through some difficult manoeuvring, and throws it over Alucard's face like a shroud. Julius steps on the pedal and floors it.

Hammer still has his head in his hands as they begin to zoom off, car rattling ominously with every chunk of gravel and rock it speeds over. He doesn't seem inclined to not have his head in his hands anytime soon. At some point, his all-green camo started to look like it would fit better in the red mesa.

Yoko has blood under her fingernails, Alucard isn't the only one who's tired, Julius' scarf is red enough that you can't tell what's on it, and Hammer is the only one having a sensible, near-sensible reaction to what just happened.

Four people sit in a car, but five people prepared themselves to brave With Light's castle. Soma's phone shudders on the floor of the car, set to vibrate, splattered with red and cracked across the screen. Mina is calling for the twentieth time in about as many minutes. Without looking, Alucard fumbles for the 'deny call' button, hitting it with clammy fingers. A few seconds pass. The phone starts buzzing again. Yoko grimaces, but quickly smooths out her expression with practise she shouldn't have. Julius is focusing on driving without steering them all off the cliff. Hammer is the only one here who wasn't stocked and prepared to kill a teenager from the outset.

The absence of the castle fades from sight as the scenery changes around them, tinged warm and amber by the vibrant morning.

[adelaidedrubman]

wip mere moments of wednesday remaining

i was tagged over the past couple weeks worth of wednesdays by @strangefable @direwombat @socially-awkward-skeleton @multiverse-of-themind @roofgeese @poetikat for wip wednesday! sending tags back out to everyone above who hasn’t shared today and to @henbased @unholymilf @florbelles @ishwaris @heroofpenamstan @belorage @jackiesarch @confidentandgood @dihardys @marivenah @shallow-gravy @derelictheretic @strafethesesinners @schoute @starsandskies @purplehairsecretlair and anyone else who feels like sharing!

violence warning, wildfire chapter 16 preamble to jessie looting the corpse i posted previously ft. guy becomes the corpse.

She surveyed the landscape with a fresh smile and wide eyes, bringing her tongue out to trail salvia along chapped lips as the wind battered them.

Either Jacob had a smaller militia with fewer bases than John had, or they were just better at concealing themselves. She hadn’t spotted much of anything.

She didn’t know enough about this fucking Jacob guy to say which it was definitively. (He’d been the guy in the camo the first night, right? That had to be him — so she guessed he was into camouflage, perhaps as more than just a fashion statement.)

She sighed, loosening her grip to bring herself to a coast.

She would just have to play it safe until she knew. She would play everything more safely, from here on out.

She closed her fist around the handbrake to come to a softly skidding stop.

If she hadn’t gone that same night, perhaps she wouldn’t have spotted it.

But with full moon barely retreated from its peak to sink back into the horizon, and a strange lull in the low breeze usually sweeping against her skin, Jestiny was able to catch a slight rustle in the bushes just past the split in the road. Down and across the street from the dimly glowing light of the ‘Golden Valley’ sign and its multicolored LED numbers advertising laughably irrelevant per gallon gas prices that now seemed a relic of a bygone era. There, she spotted a figure nestled at the base of the rising wooden frame of a taller, unlit archway.

She hugged the body of her four wheeler, pushing against its frame to slide backward and dismount it, hunkering behind it for cover. She waited for her eyes to train to the darkness, making out the bright orange lettering of ‘F.A.N.G. Center’ and the outline of the body fidgeting in the brush.

Camouflage it was.

She ducked, crawling along the dusty ground until she reached the jagged wall of rock abutting the road. She kept her eyes trained immediately front and down, avoiding any particularly dry patch of the grass tickling her knees that might crunch loudly enough to draw attention as she felt along the hillside for stray chipped stones. Her fingers finally settled on a rock sturdy and sharp enough to be deadly, wrapping around to wield it as effectively as she could.

She crept further, until she met a patch of brittle growth she couldn’t weave around just before her target – then dove. She threw herself atop the man (he was larger than her, she confirmed, feeling his full weight beneath her), shoving the pointed end of the stone towards his throat — hands faltering, fingers fumbling as they met the unexpected resistance of thick cloth guarding vital spots.

Shit.

She cursed, hooking her legs around his torso as he struggled to stand, her stomach pulsing with a fresh jolt of pain in complaint. She jerked her arm around his head to muffle his shouts in the denim cushioned crook of her elbow, frantically feeling along the fabric for an opening — the only one available at his eyes, so she fisted her weapon wielding hand down it to slide past the grip of her other arm until she found the vulnerable flesh of his throat. She quickly retracted the arm, putting the bulk of her strength into keeping herself attached by the tight grip of her legs circling him as the remainder of her power was used to jab the heel of her hand against the back of his skull with full force so that the sharp tip of the rock penetrated cleanly.

Blood poured quite obligingly down the sleeve of her jacket with the action, warming her forearm in an uneven trickle as his legs failed beneath him, her weight tipping him to fall backward and send them both crashing to the ground, him toppling down to pin her in prickly brush.

Ow.

[somelonelywordmonger]

Scry-A-Day #215

February 5, 2024 | Day 1 of Blaze Week

Meet Brooke and Crooke!

Camo Ripple | Terracotta Blaze | Peach Underbelly | Rare Fire Eyes

Camo Ripple | Terracotta Blaze | Eldritch Underbelly | Unusual Fire Eyes

[sofiiel]

There & Back Again | Ch. 24

The Chameleon

↰ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ | ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛꜱ | ɴᴇxᴛ ↱

Amy sucked in the fresh air as she followed Rick and Angel out of the long tunnel. Her hair was damp from the leaky cracks within the escape tunnel, and she was unsure she'd ever get the smell of mildew out of her shirt.

"It smells like a swamp down in that miserable thing. Don't you do maintenance?" Angel grumbled with a scowl.

"No, I was never planning on actually using it, you should be grateful it didn't cave in all together," Rick said. He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and wandered towards a large object covered in Camo, tarp, and other hunting stealth items.

"So wait, let me get everything straight," Amy said, following and wringing out her hair. "You're an ex-Loxion asshole, who's been on the run for the past three - "

"Five" Angel corrected.

"The past five years, you've been feeding this mangy stray dog here," Amy said pointing to Angel who scowled. "Who has, what, powers? And working with a rival group to stop Loxion, and this rival just so happened to have information from another informant that Myrtle is in danger.....in Pittsburgh?" Amy asked.

Rick and Angel pulled away the camouflage to reveal a truck that had seen much better days. It was coated in thick rust and dents that were reminiscent of hitting one too many animals. The front window had several cracks from rocks, and the grill of the truck was painted in the remains of crusty bugs.

Rick watched Angel with concern as his left eye started to twitch. "That...that wasn't you that poofed you and the girl into the tunnel, was it?" Rick asked cautiously. Angel looked up at him, he said nothing, but his clear eyes said it for him.

"Shit, Maybe she should stay behind," Rick muttered.

"Like hell, I will, if Myrtle's in trouble I'm going. We're tied together." Amy protested. "What's it matter if the weirdo gets all twitchy?" Amy asked.

"Angel..." Rick started, But Angel stood tall and glared. "I steal 'abilities' to feed my own, as I cannot tap into my own power anymore thanks to that stupid goddamn chip." Angel spoke in a metallic voice lulling with deep disgust. He rubbed his neck lightly, his short blunt nails clawing at his own skin.

"So I feed off of those who have them as well, I take their power, and It will last me a few years." He explained. Rolling his eyes to look at Amy, he gave a bitter smile, "Only I don't have any more prey now that I'm free of that damned lab." Said Angel.

Amy took a defensive step back. "Well, I won't be your next victim." She barked glaring. Angel laughed. "I can't touch you, the fairy is your friend...remember?" He asked.

"Why's this girl mean so much to you?" Rick asked Angel, he was slightly unnerved by the heavy look of devotion in the boy's eyes. A wild, demented smile crossed Angel's lips. "She's a part of me, I can feel it. He wants her to for a different reason, but..." Angel shook his head, his eyes glaring into the void as he clenched his fists, drawing blood.

Angel's eyes fluttered, and a slight sadness filled them for the briefest of moments, "She's a part of Lilly," Memories flooded into Angel's mind. A small white room, and a woman with a mass of thick kinky hair atop her head smiling down at him. She pressed a finger to her lips and pulled a candy bar from her pocket.

"Papa's a jerk sometimes....but he only wants to see you thrive. Go on...it's your birthday, isn't it, Petey?" Angel murmured quietly, He could remember her words in that deep but soothing voice, like a Billie Holiday record, and a smile that could light up the darkest night. A fearless smile, one of the few that wasn't afraid of him in that awful place.

Angel stood in his silence for a long time, "Pete...you're not there, come on, you know you freak the hell out of me when you do that!" Rick called out. A crooked smile slowly inched across Angel's lips. He looked up at Rick and grinned. 

"And he doesn't freak you out any other time?" Amy questioned.

Rick shrugged, "I'll fill you in on the rest on the way, but you have to explain yourself too." Rick said, pointing at her. Amy shrugged, "might as well." she hummed, watching Rick unlock the doors, "I've told enough people already." she added.

Angel pushed up the passenger seat so that Amy may climb into the back seat of the two-door Truck. Once she was settled, he got in as well.

Looking through the trees, he could see Black cars carefully making their way through the rough terrain. "We got friends." Angel grumbled, a smile ticking back onto his face.

"I have enough strength left...want me to flay them?" He asked.

Amy nearly shivered at the chill in his voice. "Um, no! No! We don't need a crime scene so close to my house!" Rick raged.

Angel shrugged, "you're boring old man." he sighed, leaning back into the sea. "Besides, you might be needed when we get to where we're going." Rick added. "Which is where in Pittsburgh exactly?" Amy asked. 

"How are we supposed to find Myrtle and Rughead?" Amy added, looking at Rick with her brows raised. Rick looked to Angel who closed his eyes, and behind their lids, they started to shift about. "Where are you, little fairy." He whispered.

"Yeah," Amy sang with unease, "not any less creepy," she muttered.

Angel was back in the darkness, his eyes trained on a hospital bed, he could feel static moving around in the air, it made the flyaways of his hair stand up towards the air, and the hair on his arms raised.

But that wasn't just from the suffocating static, Angel walked to the hospital bed, and leaning on it, he rested a hand on Myrtle's arm, his fingers lightly touching the IV dug into her vein.  She couldn't feel him there, he knew that much. Quietly, Angel followed Myrtle's gaze. She was glaring, knives, at a figure ahead of them.

Angel focused, and soon the second figure came into view, "Loxion bitch." Angel muttered, glaring at the oddly dressed woman. Leaving Myrtle's side in the darkness, Angel circled the woman, carefully examining her.

"Do you see anything?" Rick asked. His voice echoes around the Darkness around Angel.

"Myrtle's bound to a hospital bed, The location hasn't come to me yet...but there is a woman." Angel spoke.

Amy watched as Angel's lips barely moved his eyes still closed, still moving about under his eyelids. A faint snarl came to his face, "I know her, she used to work at the lab before the first break-out." said Angel.

In the darkness, he took a step closer to the woman. "Franchesca Torrance" Angel sang with disdain. "Torrance? When did she join with Loxion?" Rick's voice said through the darkness.

"Brenner blamed her weakness after Lilly was....sent away, and then it's said she stole away with several of the kids in the night, But He... helped them escape, that's when they gave him a stronger chip...." Angel explained.

Amy looked at Rick, "is he talking about himself?" she asked.

"No," Angel answered flatly.

In the darkness, he walked closer to Franchesca, and soon he stood before her, nose to nose, staring hatefully into her face. He chuckled giddily under his breath, "I'm gonna kill you, ma'am." He nearly sang. "Very slowly." he whispered.

Angel leaned towards Franchesca's ear, "I will take your drums, your cords, and your teeth." He whispered. "And then I will peel you open."

These words Amy and Rick did not hear, but in Pittsburgh, Franchesca would shiver, not knowing why. 

Angel walked back to Myrtle in the darkness, he touched her face and her shoulder, resting his forehead on hers, in the darkness he closed his eyes. "Now show me...where are you, fairy." He said softly. 

Myrtle's memories flew through his head at agonizing speeds. From the seat of the Truck, blood dripped from Angel's nostril. He could see the Leaving Hawkins sign, He could see Myrtle having fun with Corroded Coffin in Eddie's Van, He could see the way Eddie helped her in the bathrooms, He could see the concert and her interactions there, and finally, he could see the kidnapping.

But he could not see the district or the address of where she was currently.

The darkness faded away rapidly and Angel's eyes flew open, he turned to Rick and shook his head. "She did not see her location." He muttered, turning to glare out the front window. Eyes hooked on the road ahead of them.

"Great now what?" Amy asked.

"I can try again later... I just," Angel sighed, his body shuddered with exhaustion. 

"Yeah, rest up, kid." Rick said comfortingly. Angel leaned his head back and closed his eyes as if to sleep. "I will see if Munson saw anything in a bit." He muttered.

"But Fairy you showed me more than enough, You have her with you....008. You're in good hands, for now." Angel thought, letting sleep take him.

While the guards fought off ferocious mice, Mick had successfully gotten hold of her knife sitting up with her back to Axel's she started to cut his bonds, If she could free him he could take the knife and cut her loose as well.

"Do you think they'll help us?" Jeff asked, "maybe if we buy them time, look, the Mice are starting to go away." Scott reasoned. "Buy them time how exactly?" Eddie asked. "The painful way." Scott said. "Hey! Hey Dumbasses!" Gareth shouted, "what the hell is with the fly goggles? What are you some alien cult? Shouldn't you be at Area 51 or something?" He said laying into them.

It's all it took, one of the frustrated men stomped over to him with Cattle prod in hand. "Wait, wait, I was just -" Gareth's yelps were louder than the buzzing of the prod. "Hey! Lay off him!" Eddie called out furious, but then the prod was moved his way instead.

Myrtle fought at her bindings, "Leave them alone! Please, I swear I won't fight, I'll do whatever you want j-just..." Myrtle stammered. The Tv had been knocked over, she could no longer see it, but now she could hear the muffled cries of her friends from the floor above her.

"But you are giving us what we want, and you can only do so with their help." said Franchesca as he walked to Myrtle's side. 

The woman removed her goggles and mask, smiling down at Myrtle, she lightly pet the top of the scared girl's head. "You see, they will help you open the door to Him." She lulled.

"H-him? Him who?" Myrtle stammered, she didn't like a distant look in the woman's eyes. 

Franchesca suddenly scowled, her eyes becoming sharp, and she grabbed Myrtle's hair roughly. "The monster in your head, the monster in everyone's head. He shares your blood, we will kill him, and keep you to make more. You see..." Franchesca became calm almost instantly, her rough pulling becoming a gentle stroking of Myrtle's hair once more.

"Your DNA is tame, and with it, the research that Brenner failed can be restarted. We can make a force that many will pay top dollar to employ. Perfect soldiers. Soldiers who can fight using parts of the brain most of us have forgotten, soldiers who can tap into a world, most of us have never seen." she lulled.

Myrtle clenched her jaw, "this woman is nuts." She thought. But then she had to wonder. "You did just blast a Tv across the room." Myrtle thought to herself.

Franchesca scowled as she noticed Myrtle's pulse was falling back to steady speeds. "You're calming down." She muttered at her. Myrtle looked at the woman in confusion.

"We can't have that..." Franchesca murmured, lifting the walkie to her lips. "Target the one in the Denim vest and hold it there." she ordered.

Myrtle's heartbeat ran away from her as she started to feel dizzy. "No, no - no, don't! Hello! Listen to me! Don't do it!" Myrtle shouted at the top of her lungs.

Eddie's eyes grew wide as he heard the distant voice of the Walkies of the men. "Myrtle!" He called out, rolling away from the prod. "I knew it!" He gasped, laying on his back, he glared at the man hovering above him.

Drawing his knee's down to his chest, with his legs in the air, Eddie waited for the man to draw close before kicking out as hard as he could. The man with the prod fell to the ground, cupping himself. Groaning and rolling across the worn carpet.

"Fancy suits and no safety cup?" Axel laughed, driving Mick's knife into the neck of one of the guards. Blood shot across his face and clothes, and Mick took the chance to steal the man's cattle prod while Axel stabbed him right to the ground.

Mick jabbed the prod into the base of one man's spine and held it there. "Axel!" She shouted, and without question, Axel slashed the knife across the man's throat.

Jeff watched wide-eyed as the man fell before him on the floor, gurgling. "Holy shit!" Jess screamed.

"Hey!" Eddie barked, having gotten to his feet he ran at one of the men knocking him forward, "Can we get a hand here?" Eddie said, turning to show his arms, which had been bound behind his back.

Axel was quick to cut him free, and Eddie rushed towards his friends, working fast to untie them. Once free, the boys took up as many Cattle prods as they could get a hold of from the fallen guards and used them to help Mick and Axel with the rest.

The group was left out of breath, Axel and Mick covered in blood. "Ew it's sticky!" Axel complained. "Well, maybe next time be less messy, huh?" Mick advised.

"What now?" Eddie asked.

"Axel! Mick!" Kali's cries sounded within the minds of her friends. "Did you hear that?" Axel asked. "No..." Scott said carefully.

"I did," Mick murmured, "Kali," she said turning to Axel who gave a nod, the two looked about quietly. "Your friend? You hear her? I don't hear anything...." Gareth questioned.

"It's an illusion, a vocal one. You wouldn't hear it." Mick explained.

"Where are you!" Mick shouted out at the top of her lungs.

"Shhhhh!" Eddie hushed, "are you crazy, everyone will know something's not right here!" he reasoned. "So let them come, we'll be ready." Axel said. 

Eddie rolled his eyes, "seriously man, if there were this many guys already, there is upstairs and a basement. Probably an attic too in an old house like this." He said flatly.

"All with the potential to be hiding a bunch of mean motherfuckers." He added.

"The attic. The attic hurry!" Kali called to her friends. Without a word, Mick and Axel ran for the stairs.

"Wait! Where are you going!" Jeff called out. "Hello!" Eddie called, chasing after them to the stairs, but his feet stopped him. "Let them go, We need to find Myrtle," said Gareth.

"right but... where?" Scott asked.

Myrtle froze at the sounds of a scuffle over the walkies. "It seems as though your friends made quick work of the pawns. That was surprising" said Franchesca.  The woman looked at Myrtle, watching the electric shimmer in the girl's eyes, they now blazed a violent shade of silver.

 Franchesca held the walkie out to Myrtle, "Have anything you'd like to say before the final act? It seems you're activated now. We've got the other girl. Your friends are no longer needed." She said.

Myrtle's eyes welled with tears, if she took the chance maybe she could warn them, Franchesca had yet to give an order to anyone else. She could at least let them know something was coming.  Myrtle gave a nod and the walkie switched on. "Eddie? Guys!" Myrtle called into it.

Eddie turned and scrambled for the walkie on the floor closest to him. Pressing the button, he held it to his mouth, "Myrtle! Myrtle! Where the hell are you?" He asked frantically. "Eddie, you have to get the guys out! You have to get out now!" Myrtle's voice came through.

"Calm down, where are you?" Jeff said, picking up a walkie of his own off of one of the dead men.  "No time, please, just get out!" Myrtle called. 

"No, what room?" Eddie said.

"Damn it, Eddie, just get out! You can seek help later!" Myrtle shouted, Eddie could hear the tears in her eyes louder than the fear in her words. "McKinney, you tell me right this minute, where are you?" Eddie repeated, calming his own voice down. "She's scared shitless." he thought.

Meanwhile, Franchesca glanced down at the watch on her arm and a catlike smile took over her face. "She's here." she hummed, pleased with herself, shutting off the walkie. "Who's here?" Myrtle asked, following the woman's movements.

"Our Bargaining chip, the last thing Loxion needs is to be tied to an actual crime. Rather than getting rid of a band of teens. It's easier to buy them off." Franchesca mused.

Myrtle glared, "You can't buy them off, they aren't those kinds of people." she barked. 

Franchesca smiled with amusement at Myrtle's defensiveness. "It's almost sad you actually care for them," she said. Myrtle froze and watched the woman baffled as she clicked on the walkie.

"Myrtle, you there?" Eddie asked into his Walkie, "Myrtle come on answer me...." he said again but silence remained. "Shit." he hissed, looking to his friends, but they were just as clueless. "What do we do? Is it the battery or...." Eddie's voice trailed off, he didn't want to think about the or.

Light footsteps could be heard from outside the front door. The boys looked at each other in panic. "This isn't good...." Jeff whispered. Before they could find a place to hide, the door knob turned, the door opened wide and a slender figure entered in.

Spotting Eddie, her dark eyes lit up, and a strained smile crossed her face. Eddie dropped the Walkie in his hand and his body shuddered as he took a step back. "You," he said, the world slowed down as his voice struggled to make the words, "you can't be here." He said.

Water gathered into Eddie's eyes while the boys watched him carefully, "You aren't here anymore." His voice broke. The girl tilted her head and smiled as she held out her arms, "what do you call this then?" She asked, reaching up, she tugged at the end of her hair with one hand. "Feels pretty real," she said with a faint smile.

She stepped inside and let the door close behind her, offering a reassuring smile to the boys who watched almost defensively. "It's really ok," she said to them, She didn't remember Gareth and barely knew Jeff, but Scott she knew well. She used to sing with them.

Eddie continued to step back as they walked closer. "Stop being silly, Ed." She called, Eddie stopped moving away as if commanded. "Huh, you're still a good listener." She hummed.

The girl held out her hand, "come on, take it." she said softly. Eddie was hesitant, but with his hand hovering, he reached out toward the fair hand before him. His palm slipped across her skin, it was faintly warm but also cold in a way it shouldn't have been. As if the circulation wasn't flowing correctly through her fingers.

"Gail?" Eddie questioned weakly. She smiled and gave a nod.

Eddie rolled up the sleeve of her sweater, one thing would tell him the truth, and there they were, lined in perfect rows. Little scars up her flawless skin. "Across the river, not down the stream...remember? I promised." Gail whispered, reaching out her other hand to touch Eddie's hair.

Eddie's arms flew out, wrapping around her, he pulled Gail to him. "How?" He asked, hiding his face in her hair. "How?" He asked again.

Gail stroked Eddie's hair to calm him, and he melted in her arms. "Loxion," She hummed pulling away, Gail held Eddie's face, "They saved me, this is a trade - Eddie. You see...they need your friend. She'll serve an incredible purpose." Gail said cautiously, her words as if reassuring a small child.

Eddie shook his head, "what? What's Loxion?" He asked. "They brought me back." Gail said with a smile.

"I don't trust this, Eddie...." Gareth spoke quietly. 

"I mean...she is here...." Scott said, "what kind of trade?" He asked.

Gail released Eddie's face and turned to Scott, "Me for her, I can come home but Myrtle and Kali must stay." she said. "We can't do that, Myrtle has a family." Jeff chimed.

"If I may." Franchesca spoke into the Walkie.

Myrtle sat in the hospital bed, looking between the woman and the man in the scrubs. The man watched Myrtle with sympathetic eyes, he looked uncomfortable. "Like he knows something." Myrtle thought.

"Who is Gail?" was the other question lingering in her thoughts. She had a powerful but elegant voice, Myrtle could only imagine what she must have looked like. More than anything, the little crack in Eddie's voice as he spoke to her, sent a gentle pain through Myrtle's core.

"She means something to him." thought Myrtle.

"Loxion can and will arrange the situation to where no blame would fall on you boys for Myrtle's disappearance. Her family is questionable at best, you could consider the trade as saving her life." Franchesca offered.

Gareth looked down at his walkie and the boys gathered around him.

"That doesn't sound any less sketchy," said Gareth. "Myrtle will play a role in something historical, an advancement towards the future of the world. While Gail..."

"Don't listen to her!" Kali shouted from the stairwell. Behind her, Mick and Axel now armed with guns and battered from an obvious fight.

"What the fuck..." Jeff exhaled.

Mick and Axel had their guns aimed at Gail. "Eddie?" Gail questioned fearfully, taking hold of his arm she stepped behind him. "Can you please just put those things down?" Eddie asked, his hands in the air. 

Kali however found herself glaring at Gail. "It's a trick, they took someone important to you because they knew you'd be here with Myrtle. It's a setup! Someone told them about you being here, someone knew." Kali warned.

"It's screams planned. You showing up in Pittsburgh, Myrtle stumbling on the alleyway. Those people who chased our crew and trapped Axel. They were Lab men." Mick chimed in.

"Dodo wouldn't have given us tickets to a show just to trap Myrtle. They don't even know each other." Gareth shouted glaring.

"Dodo? Gave you tickets?" Gail asked with a smile. Eddie glanced back at her, mildly confused with how unconcerned she seemed. "Uh....yeah?" Eddie answered. "Is she doing well? God, I miss her, does she still have yellow hair?" asked Gail, offering a fond smile.

"Um... I-it's green now, but, Gail. Seriously? Not right now." Eddie reasoned.

"The show was canceled, and you were miraculously given a 5th ticket. I'm sorry, Eddie, love." A dry voice called as the front door swung open again. As the woman entered, she removed the hood of her jacket and Voorhees mask.

She shook out her sea-green hair, "But I needed to lure you here, to lure them here." the woman said, her eyes glaring at the Walkie in Gareth's hands.

"It's you...." Kali gasped. With wide eyes, she watched the woman. A face she'd never forget, the first face she'd seen on the outside of the Lab. "Hello, eight." the woman greeted with a smile. Kali flew down the stairs, her arms flying around the woman who held her close. "Doris!" Kali choked. 

Axel and Mick were left stunned, as were Eddie and the boys.

"He said you were coming..." Kali stated, collecting herself as she stepped away from Doris. Doris gave a troubled frown, "don't trust him Eight, never." Doris warned.

Eddie shook his head and shouted, "wait!" fists clenched, he took a breath and held one finger in the air. "Can we just make sense of one thing at a time first?" He asked.

Doris looked at him with a Level gaze, "Make the trade and I can answer all your questions." Doris stated calmly. A smirk played on her face. "Trust me, Myrtle's got a cavalry coming." her voice said, words filling the minds of everyone in the room.

"Oh, oooh, ok, what was that?" Scott questioned frightened. Doris simply smiled.

"We've got an old friendship, Eddie...you boys trust me?" Doris asked.

Eddie glanced at Gail, she nodded her head a bit, "do it," she mouthed. "Yeah..." Eddie answered.  His core shook with protest, and his mouth went try as if to stop the words from forming as he took the Walkie from Gareth. "We'll make the trade." He said.

Myrtle's heart sunk, and her eyes flew to the man in the scrubs. The worry on his face had gone and instead, a small smile had formed. "You'll be alright." The man mouthed to her.

However, Myrtle wasn't so sure of that.

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