#halo fanfic
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Halo Reloaded: A Star-Spangled Man...
John emerged from the confines of a nondescript closet—not exactly the noble entry befitting a supersoldier of his caliber.
As he surveyed the penthouse, his HUD flickered like a confused tourist. Sleek, minimalist furniture met his gaze, betraying a taste for luxury that would make even a Covenant Elite's eyes widen with envy. But outside the glass walls, New York City sprawled in an architectural time capsule—buildings squatting lower than he recalled, the skyline an awkward teenager compared to the mature metropolis he knew.
The Spartan's reverie was cut short by a projectile hurtling toward his visor—a shield, star-spangled and as patriotic as apple pie. Catching it was reflex; the man who'd thrown it, however, was anything but predictable. Dressed in a combat suit that screamed 'America!', complete with helmet, he launched into a drop kick that even professional wrestlers might applaud.
John staggered, an uncharacteristic "oof" escaping him. The two squared off, sizing each other up. John’s opponent smirked, his suit a walking flagpole.
"Planning on dropping more surprises, or is the shield your only party trick?" John's tone was dry, the kind of dry you'd need a gallon of water to recover from.
"Just warming up. Let's dance, Tin Man," the flag-man retorted, his voice dripping with Brooklyn bravado.
The Star-Spangled Man charged, his sprint more a blur than a run. The penthouse's luxurious floor tiles seemed to quake under the force of his super-soldier speed. As he neared John, he leaped high, his body horizontal to the ground, twisting mid-air to deliver a roundhouse kick. The kick was a blur of red, white, and blue—a patriotic whirlwind.
John, his reactions honed by countless battles, swung the shield upward in a sweeping arc, intercepting the kick with a metallic clang that resonated like a gong. The impact sent a shockwave that rattled the nearby furniture, a crystal vase teetering perilously on the edge of a table.
Undeterred, The Patriotic Stranger rolled backward on landing, regaining his stance with feline agility. He then dashed forward again, this time pulling a series of rapid punches, each blow a thunderous crack breaking the air. John deflected each with the shield, the rhythm of their impacts a deadly drumbeat.
Seeing an opening, John thrust the shield forward like a battering ram. The other soldier, anticipating the move, ducked under the swing and swept a leg toward John's ankles in a sweeping arc meant to topple giants. John leapt over the sweep, a graceful arc in his own trajectory, landing with the floor cracking slightly under his armored weight.
Not missing a beat, John delivered a spinning back kick, aimed with precision at his adversary's midsection. The flag-man caught the kick with his hands, grunting under the force, his feet sliding back, carving grooves into the wooden floor. With a Herculean effort, the old-soldier twisted, redirecting the momentum to hurl John over his shoulder. John flipped mid-air, landing on his feet.
The penthouse now resembled a battlefield, the sound of their conflict a symphony of destruction. The red-white-&-blue combatant retrieved his shield, slinging it with explosive speed. John caught it again, using it to bash forward in a powerful charge. He met the charge with his own body, the collision a thunderclap of force that blew out the penthouse windows, showering the streets below with sparkling debris.
Locked in a grapple, the soldier-in-stars-'n-stripes whispered through gritted teeth, "Not bad for an old-timer, huh?"John, his grip iron-tight, managed a smirk. "You're not the only one out of time."
With a surge of strength, John pushed forward, breaking the grapple. He spun, wielding the shield in a sweeping, circular motion. John's opponent mirrored the movement, and for a moment, they were two cyclones colliding, their strikes a blur of motion and power that seemed to distort the very air around them.
As the duel reached its climax, John feinted with the shield, a deceptive move that the flag-man had anticipated, but it was a ruse. With a sudden drop, John swept the soldier's legs, sending him crashing to the ground. The Spartan quickly pinned him down, the shield at the ready.
Breathing heavily, the flag-man looked up, a grin spreading across his face.
"This isn't your usual sock-hop. Stand down and talk," John commanded, easing off as his sensors confirmed no further threats—just a very stubborn super-soldier beneath his boot.
Catching his breath, Rogers managed a grin. "You're not bad... for a walking tank. Steve Rogers, Captain America. And you are?"
"Master Chief Petty Officer John Downes. What year is this?"
"1943. Guess you took a wrong turn at Albuquerque, huh?" John deactivated his weapon, processing the anachronistic nightmare he’d stumbled into. "Seems like it. I need a way back to my time. Not sure how much help World War II tech will be."
Steve shrugged, accepting John’s hand and rising to his feet. "Well, we might not have fancy lasers or AI, but we've got grit and a whole lot of stubborn. Plus, I know a guy."
"Is he also a man out of time?" John inquired, a hint of amusement in his voice."Something like that. You ready to roll, Chief?"John nodded, his demeanor softening into what might pass for a smile under his helmet. "Lead the way, Captain."
As they exited the penthouse, John couldn’t help but think how absurdly out of place he looked—a futuristic warrior strolling through a historical chapter, guided by a man dressed as a flag. But then again, time travel was bound to have its quirks. And with Captain America at his side, maybe the 1940s wouldn’t be so bad. After all, they had the best music.
#halo#halo fanfic#halo fanfiction#john 117#master chief#master chief fanfiction#master chief fanfic#halo au#halo headcanon#halo reloaded#ultimate halo#crossover#crack fic
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IDs in alt
A fan-edit project of what an in-universe zine might look like. What would get passed around by all the little people trying to keep their Spartans going?
#:o)#Halo#Halo Fanfic#Spartans#my writing#this might technically be a wip but I wanted to share#Murphy is a fun character voice#my edits
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"Skies of Sanghelios"
#red vs blue#red vs blue tucker#rvb#rvb tucker#rvb fanart#rvb fanfic#lavernius tucker#rvb towards the sky#halo#halo fanart#halo fanfic#fan comic#fanfic#illustration#sangheili#halo sangheili#swords of sanghelios#343 industries
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Episode II of the MTIO just dropped - the Insurrection Arc will conclude with episode III.
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↠ master chief/gender neutral!reader
↠ word count: 1800
↠ chapter one | chapter two
↠ masterlist
↠ description: john has no idea how to date, but he'll try his best.
↠ warnings: potential for out of character | potential for dismantling of canon | gender neutral!reader may change in future chapters
↠ author’s notes: this is based on a mix of game-canon chief and television series chief. take it as you will. if i did happen to use specific terminology to describe the reader, let me know.
-- /// --
The instant John entered the park, he sensed something was different. So late on a Wednesday evening, the only thing playing in the open air theatre was a group of young violinists, no more than high school aged. There were a few people milling about, most likely parents there to encourage the group. Others were gathered on the outskirts, at the top of the coliseum style seats. They were cloistered in twos and threes, their conversations jumbling together over the sounds of the music.
You were the lone exception, standing towards the top of the steps, half-hidden by shadows. John had never seen you before, though there had been a recent influx of newcomers to the Reach. It was mostly scientists, after a mass exodus had left gaping holes in their military programs.
He caught the way your brow furrowed a split second before he realised he had been staring. You shifted back when he tried for a smile, and gave it up as a lost cause. In some ways, the act of interacting with new people still bemused him.
He was surprised, then, to hear footsteps approach, and turned just enough to witness you falter three steps above him. Over the din of the crowd, he could hear the race of your heart, so fast that he was surprised when you managed an actual greeting.
“You’re new to Reach?”
He had to change tracks at the last minute, turning it from a statement into a question. He had also had no designs to sit, but found himself doing so anyway when you introduced yourself.
You nodded. “I took a job at the USMC. Have you been here long?”
“My entire career,” he answered, and watched close for your reaction. He suspected that you were unaware of who he was, as most civilians were. Few knew what the Master Chief looked like without his helmet on, and a majority were within the USMC.
His suspicion was proven right when you asked, “You’re a Marine, I take it? How long have you been in?”
Something in the way you asked, or perhaps it was the lack of starstruck wonder he was so used to, made him lie through his teeth, answering, “Thirty years, give or take a few.”
Eyebrows raising, you replied, “You look so young, though.”
A product of spending so much time in a suit of armour, he supposed. Instead though, he said, “You look fairly young yourself. What made you want to take a job here?”
Your smile slipped, and you ducked your head to face your knees. “My homeworld was glassed not long ago. I figured here would be the safest place to go, after that.”
“I’m sorry,” John offered, watching the way you began to pick at a split in your lip before, very abruptly, you turned to snap a tie around your wrist. “I heard about it, after I returned from a deployment. I’m glad you made it out.”
“Me too,” you replied with a quiet laugh. “You’re actually the first person I’ve met outside of work here.”
That made John chuckle and over it, he heard the way your heartbeat skipped. “I’m honoured, really.”
Conversation stalled for a few moments, and John could see how you pretended to watch the violinists to make it seem natural. There was a tension in your shoulders that gave away your desire to say something though, and you were rubbing your palm with your thumb. You would press hard in the very centre then relent before looking at John. It was quite nice to know that your nervousness was genuine, and not borne of being in the presence of the great Master Chief.
“Do you deploy a lot?” you asked at last, drawing John from his thoughts. The way you asked was stilted, as though you had dredged the question from the depths of your desire to say anything at all. “It seems like I never see the same face twice.”
“I do,” he agreed, and wondered what to tell you. The people you would deal with most often were the general ranks, those who stood a worse chance of surviving an encounter with Covenant. “I’m between drops, at the moment, but one will likely come in in the next few days. Covenant has been busier than usual.”
“I heard rumours that they were looking for something, but couldn’t find it. The Spartans either found it first or destroyed it or something like that.” You snapped the tie on your wrist once, hard. “That’s why they started glassing so many planets— they were really upset, whatever they were looking for.”
It always surprised John to find out how close the rumours turned out to be to the truth. He often wondered who started with the truth, and how long it took the details to be lost. It reminded him of the game he played as a child with the other trainees. One would whisper a sentence from across a room or through a glass, and it was the listener’s job to relay what was said. It had taken him a long time to realise that the “game” was actually training, learning to lip-read. The more serious the children took the task, the better the results were, but not until their augmentations were there ever perfect results.
“Well, in any case,” you said, drawing John from his thoughts again and offering him a smile, “maybe when you’re here, you can come visit me at the aquarium. Since I’ll never be able to find and all.”
With a rough, quiet laugh, John said, “Could see about making that work. Do you have to go now?”
“Should,” you agreed, but lingered where you stood. “I have an early shift tomorrow, and a bit of a ride home.”
Shifting to his feet as well, he said, “Let me walk you?”
“Oh, it’s— I live all the way in Immoria. It’s too much to ask—”
“I don’t mind,” John said, cutting your rambling off with a small smile. He found them rising easier in your presence. “I’d rather be sure you get home safe. Call it paranoia.”
“Well, if you insist,” you agreed, though it was with an air of exasperation. The tick playing at the corner of your mouth indicated that you were pleased beneath that though.
The next bullet train was due in five minutes, and you sidled closer as the waiting crowd grew and closed in. The way you flinched was almost imperceptible when you leaned into John, and your laugh was embarrassed.
“I don’t even like eating in the caf at work,” you admitted, but allowed his hand to stay where it was on your back. “I don’t care much for crowds since—”
“I get it,” John said as the train came to an abrupt stop in front of you. There was just the one, and it hurtled back and forth across the city twenty-four hours a day. You remained close as the train began to move, curling your free hand into his shirt when someone knocked into you. The culprit offered John a smile full of mock apology that dwindled beneath his scowl, until they shifted to give you your space.
You were busy watching the scenery pass, and startled when John asked, “If you dislike crowds, what do you do at the complex?”
“Oh, they stuffed me into some little corner room with a few other researchers. I don’t really have to deal with too many people. Thankfully.”
“I see. What did you do before this?”
You shook your head. “I travelled around, studying species in their natural habitats, how we affected them, boring stuff like that.”
“It doesn’t sound boring,” John said, and watched your eyes widen as though you were surprised to hear it. If he had to describe it, it sounded peaceful. “If you enjoyed it, it wasn’t boring.”
“Well, fair enough,” you said with a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh. “Do you enjoy what you do?”
“Yes,” he replied on reflex. No one in recent memory had asked him that and, in truth, he was unsure of the truth in his answer. He had never been given the choice to decide if he enjoyed what he did or not.
Something must have shown through in his response, because the look you cast him came with a frown. You seemed to come to some decision or assumption on your own though, and uncurled your fist to lay flat on his chest.
A little too mired in his own thoughts again, John let silence reign after that. He followed you down the street with an absent mind, aware somewhere in the recesses of it that the inattention was unbecoming of the Master Chief. He found it happening with more frequency though, since—
“Well, this is me,” you said. “Thank you for walking me.”
“Like I said, I’d rather know you got home safe,” he replied, taking the building in. It was twenty something stories, but still short compared to most in the city. A pair of doormen stood just inside, prepared to open the doors for you.
You stalled again; it seemed you had something more to say. He heard the pace of your heart increase, and his focus narrowed in on the flicker of your pulse beneath your skin.
“Do you have a data pad, by chance?” you asked after a harsh swallow.
“It’s broken,” John said. His attention turned to your face just in time to register the way it crumpled in disappointment. With more gentleness, he continued, “I’d like to see you again, though.”
The words felt foreign, coming from him. If you noticed, you chose to ignore it when you agreed. John was surprised at how eager you seemed, and found it hard not to let it envelop him.
“At the park tomorrow? Same time?” he said. Again, he was met with eager agreement that made him smile. “Good. Goodnight then.”
Your sharp inhale in response was so subtle that even he almost missed it. Your eyes widened and your throat bobbed before you replied, “Night, John.”
Even you seemed to realise how hoarse you sounded and made to turn away, but not before John caught look of embarrassment flash across your face. He watched you scurry inside, and waited until the door was securely latched before allowing himself the laugh that had been brewing all evening.
#master chief x reader#john 117 x reader#halo master chief x reader#master chief x you#john 117 x you#halo master chief x you#halo fanfic#master chief fanfic
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hello there!
my life is finally calming down and i am so excited to continue my writing journey here with all the Halo fanfic ideas i’ve started and have been kicking around!
logging in again and seeing all the love on my fics, Before the Fever especially, means so much to me.
as we all know, the Halo series has returned with season 2, and it’s looking pretty great so far! i can’t wait to gather more lore and ideas from it!!
aside of that, i’m still here, i still love Chief (and our girl Cortana), and i can’t wait to write again! Before the Fever is definitely far from finished and i’m so excited to get back to it— see you guys around and feel free to request fics if you’d like!
i’m so glad to be back 💚
#master chief#halo#halo tv series#halo tv show#halo the show#fanfiction#master chief x reader#fanfic#john 117#alienisticxo#pablo schreiber#cortana#fanfics#halo fandom#halo fanfiction#halo the series#halo paramount#halo fanfic#halo tv#master chief fanfic#master chief fanfiction#halo season 2#halo s2#halo series
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We all sleep like dead master chief lol
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High Flakes Combat
“Blue Lead,” Linda’s whisper cuts across TEAMCOM, crisp and several degrees colder than the icy landscape. “Hostiles approaching your position.”
Fred, tucked behind the trunk of a towering pine tree, exhales a slow, measured breath. Waiting. Listening. Without his motion tracker, only the crunch of footsteps in the snow—and Linda—could tell him when their opponents were closing in.
There. Fifteen meters out. He motions to John, positioned behind an adjacent tree. On my signal.
…ten meters…
Cover me. Go high.
…five meters…
John nods. Fred tightens his grip on his weapon.
Now.
As one, they pivot, breaching cover. Fred drops to a knee, attacking swiftly, before their adversary has a chance to retaliate.
The snowball hits Ash directly in the center of his chestplate. Active camouflage flickers briefly, then recalibrates, as the young Spartan crashes dramatically to his knees before sprawling backward, motionless.
Fred doesn’t let the theatrics distract him. The other two had to be nearby and the round wasn’t over until— A snowball whizzes past his head, followed by a sharp curse—out loud, close. He catches a shimmer of white on white as Olivia leaps to find cover and “reload,” but John is faster.
The snowball hits her thigh before she can complete her maneuver and she slides to a dejected halt in a snowbank. “Dammit! Mark!” she calls out. “You’re on your own!”
Fred doesn’t hear a verbal response. He knows he won’t, Mark’s too good to give away his position— Thwap. Fred’s vision goes fuzzy and white as Mark’s snowball connects with his visor, splattering on impact. Fred groans and flashes a red status light across his team’s HUDs. He’d be out until the next round.
“He’s on the move!” Linda barks over the comms.
Fred folds himself cross-legged into the snow and wipes his visor clean just in time to see Kelly bounding over a nearby ridge, clutching a snowball in each fist.
“I’ve got him!” She goes streaking across the snow toward a barely-visible figure—also sprinting.
Mark wouldn’t be able to outrun Kelly—a fact Fred knew the S-III was well aware of—but he was certainly trying his best.
Kelly nails Mark with both snowballs, one in the shoulder, the other in the back. He stumbles just enough that Kelly’s momentum sends her into him at full force. The clack of their colliding armor echoes like a shot as both Spartans go tumbling to the ground, sending up a minor flurry in their wake.
“Aaaaaaaand match!” Roland’s voice rings out over the simulation deck, followed by a buzzer. “Blue Team takes the win!”
“Again,” Olivia grumbles, pushing to her feet and dusting snow off her armor.
“It’s three against four,” Ash reminds her, still lying on his back a few feet from Fred.
Olivia crunches her way over and offers him a hand. “Can we make Kelly sit out the next round?”
“If you’re not having fun, leave,” John quips.
“Or maybe you should switch Kelly to our team and see how it feels,” Livi bites back, helping Ash haul himself to his feet.
“Fighting over me?” Kelly rejoins the group with Mark close behind. “I’m flattered.”
Fred chuckles. It was good to see Olivia trading barbs with John. The Gammas had warmed up to him quickly—and he to them—and it wasn’t hard to understand why. Fred was sure the S-IIIs had given him some new streaks of gray hair, but at the same time, they made him feel younger. He hoped they were having the same effect on John.
“So…” drawls a familiar voice, raised just loud enough to carry, “this is the reason my fireteams can't train today? A snowball fight.”
Every Spartan in the simulated snowscape whips toward the entrance. Commander Palmer stands at the far edge of the scene, arms crossed. She looks odd and out of place, a lone figure in a techsuit against the stark white surroundings, but no less intense than usual.
“Thought we’d try something different from the typical drills, ma’am,” Fred coughs. He’s not sure why he feels guilty; they’d requested the time and blocked out the schedule and followed protocol…even if they hadn’t said precisely what they’d be doing…
Before anyone else has a chance to speak, a snowball goes sailing over Fred’s shoulder, on a collision course for Palmer. She’s too far away to hit, but the aim is dead-accurate and it lands with a wet plap several yards directly in front of her.
Even at this distance, Fred sees her eyes narrow. The vague guilt solidifying in his gut crystallizes into ice. He knows who threw that and he’s already, reflexively, preparing for the necessary damage control—and for Linda, no less. Kelly he was used to, but Linda?
Palmer shifts her weight and fixes the seven of them with a hard stare that lasts long past the point of being uncomfortable. “Don’t go anywhere,” she eventually orders, leveling a finger in their direction. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Without leaving any opportunity for rebuttal, she turns on her heel and swiftly disappears from the deck.
Immediately, Linda’s status light starts blinking rapid-fire green across Blue Team’s HUDs. Kelly follows suit.
“Really?” Fred grumps over TEAMCOM.
“Can you blame her if it worked?” Kelly retorts.
“Yes! You’re making an assumption and setting a bad example.” He switches to his helmet’s speakers. “Gammas, don’t throw things at your commanding officers.”
“Unless you’re sleeping with them,” Kelly adds, with enough tact to keep the comment on Blue Team’s private channel.
Another green light from Linda.
Fred willfully ignores both of them.
“...we’re not in trouble, are we?” Ash removes his helmet and shakes out his hair. “To be honest…I don’t know what just happened.”
Kelly seats herself on a tree stump, legs akimbo, smugness oozing from every seam of her armor. “Palmer’s getting suited up to come play with us.”
Ash seems unconvinced but Mark shrugs. “She’ll balance the numbers. We might even start winning.”
Only Blue Team can see—and appreciate—the red light John flashes in silent response.
**********
As threatened, Palmer returns exactly ten minutes later, fully armored aside from the helmet tucked into the crook of her arm. “Okay, here’s the official story.” She strides up to the group. “We’re running an unorthodox but fully sanctioned training exercise all day.”
“I’ve cleared the schedule and put out an open invitation,” Roland chimes in. “As requested.”
Palmer nods her approval. “Figured I’d let you have your fun on the condition that the rest of us could get in on it too.” She raises an eyebrow. “Sound fair?”
“Fair enough,” Fred answers, echoing the array of green lights on his HUD. “Alright. Ground rules—we’re running blind for this, Commander. No motion trackers.”
She looks pleased. “I like a challenge.”
“If you get hit, you’re out for the round,” he continues. “Once you’re out, you can’t help anyone still standing. Round ends when a whole team goes down.” Fred nods toward the ceiling. “Roland’s keeping score.”
“Huh,” Palmer hums. “So you knew about this, too, Roland?”
“I…was informed the exercise would require a scorekeeper instead of a handler,” the AI answers, somehow managing to achieve the verbal equivalent of tip-toeing. “And I volunteered a mere fraction of my copious attention to the task.”
Palmer just rolls her eyes.
Ash clears his throat and steps forward. “If you wouldn’t mind, ma’am, we’d greatly appreciate it if you joined our team.”
“They’ve been wiping the floor with us,” Olivia adds, somewhat ruefully.
Palmer looks back and forth between Blue Team and the Gammas with a hint of a smirk. “Well.” She slips her helmet on. “Allow me to level the playing field.”
**********
And indeed, the tide began to turn. Quickly. It wasn’t that the Gammas couldn’t hold their own, but Palmer was a different flavor of ruthless and even numbers did make a difference.
Kelly, as Blue Team’s sole survivor, was in the midst of a valiant stand, but she was up against Palmer and Olivia and they were going in for the kill. Up to this point, Kelly had been relying on her speed to evade them, but Fred doubted that would be able to carry her any further.
Palmer and Livi split around the back of the snowbank Kelly had hidden behind, falling into synchronized step with each other, timing their paces perfectly. Palmer’s boots fall heavier and louder, covering Olivia’s near-silent glide around the other side.
The strategy is obvious, at least from Fred’s position of passive observation—Palmer would draw Kelly’s attention, Olivia would come up on her flank and take her out. And it would work, too…on anyone less observant than Kelly. Fred has a feeling she’ll see right through it. But one of them was going to hit her either way, so it didn’t really matter as far as the outcome was concerned.
Surprisingly, a third option presents itself. Fred realizes after a few seconds that he’s been holding his breath, expecting Kelly to explode out of the snow and make a run for it, but…she doesn’t.
Palmer reaches the other side of the snowdrift and slows, confusion evident in her body language. She paces around the area, making sure not to stay still for too long, obviously reluctant to let her guard down completely. Fred can see the hazy mirage of Olivia’s SPI suit still moving in with careful deliberation.
There was no way Kelly could have moved. She hadn’t had enough time. More importantly, she would’ve been spotted if she’d tried to flee, so why couldn’t—
Palmer disappears. One second, she’s standing on the other side of the snowbank, visible from the waist up, and the next second she’s gone. Fred can’t see much of anything, but there are sounds of a scuffle and the blur of camouflaged armor as Livi sweeps in to assist with whatever the hell had just happened.
Barely a breath later, Roland announces the end of the match. “And Gammas-Plus-Palmer emerge victorious! …or should I say Olivia, specifically, seeing as she is the last Spartan standing. You know, you really oughta come up with a better name for your team—”
There’s a burst of indignant exclamations and flustered cursing from Palmer. She reappears only to rip her helmet off and kick some snow back in the direction from which she’d escaped.
Olivia removes her own helmet; Fred is surprised to see her laughing. “She got you good!” There’s a giddiness in her voice that Fred’s never heard before, but she seems to remember who she's talking to a moment later. “...ma’am.”
Kelly pops up beyond the ridge. She remains helmeted but Fred knows there’s a shit-eating grin on her face just from her posture alone.
“What happened?” He shouts the question out loud.
“She buried herself in the fucking snow and pulled my legs out from under me,” Palmer growls as she trudges over.
“And then I hit Kelly point-blank in the face!”
Olivia’s gleeful comment is backed by Kelly’s laughter over TEAMCOM. “Worth it.”
“Hey!” A different voice cuts into the conversation, once again pulling everyone’s attention toward the entrance. “Heard there was some kinda free-for-all goin’ on in here?” Gabriel Thorne stands flanked by the rest of Fireteam Majestic, all in full Mjolnir. “Got room for another team?”
Palmer waves them in. “Come on up, Majestic. We’ll get you briefed on the rules.” She sighs and fits her helmet back on. “Hope you’re ready to get your asses kicked.”
**********
An hour later, after Majestic had carved out a few victories of their own, Crimson shows up. Rules are recounted, home bases are realigned, play resumes. Within another two hours, there are four more Spartan fireteams on the field. Alliances are formed, both openly and secretly. Several hours are devoted to building snow forts. Play evolves. Forts are defended and captured, sabotaged and reinforced.
And then Lasky arrives.
“Captain on deck!” Roland bellows.
The silence that blankets the simulation deck is instantaneous and absolute. Nobody moves. If the snowballs already in flight could have frozen in midair, they probably would’ve. Instead, they land in a chorus of muffled thwumps.
Lasky stands there for a few seconds, small and unimposing by the distant doors, sporting his trademark expression of beleaguered amusement—presumably at being called out. “Don’t stop on my account,” he eventually says. “I just wanted to watch. …unless there’s a team looking for a liability,” he jokes with a self-deprecating chuckle.
Everyone on the field exchanges glances and shrugs. A sea of status lights blink across Fred’s HUD—most amber, some green. Finally, someone from Crimson waves Lasky over. “We’ll take you, Captain!”
He seems genuinely surprised by the invitation, but begins the trek across the snow. “Try not to kill me, alright?”
That draws laughs from most of the Spartans, but it’s John who actually banters back. “No promises, sir.”
#halo#my writing#halo fanfic#s2blueteam#sarah palmer#fred 104#ash g099#olivia g291#kelly 087#just tagging characters with the most screen time bc Everybody is here#also don't ask me when this takes place#bending the timeline to my will#everyone's here at the same time and that's what matters#mainly i just wanted to write something cute and let them have some playtime#this was somewhat prompted by the exchange in the fall of reach that haunts me#where kelly mentions snowballs#and john gets salty because she puts rocks in them#IMPLYING THEY HAD A SNOWBALL FIGHT AT SOME POINT#can you imagine mendez like 'you know what these little war machines need? Snow Time'#anyway happy holidays#also yeah. yes. the title is a shitty pun#that's the kind of person i am#and yes this takes place somewhere in the PSEU (palmer sandwich extended universe)
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how long | the master chief
people have been digging up my master chief fanfiction with the release of halo season 2. so. here's a new one shot ft my favorite shot of the show! Spoilers for episode 1!
this will be multiple parts as we span throughout season 2. this is loosely associated with you're losing me by Taylor Swift!
A couple of tags for people who've come my way recently wanting Chief fic... @silverpelt3600 @embarrassedauthornerd (who is still getting a Game!John fic at some point) and I know there were more but I literally can't remember :(
***
Being a part of Silver is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. It’s a team. A unit. You aren’t forced to rely on old instincts of survival on your own when you have Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra 117 covering your back.
John. Your John.
My beloved.
He hadn’t been the same since Cortana was removed from his head. You knew why. It was like losing a crucial part of himself, and no one still knew where she was. You both felt her loss so acutely.
You still sometimes turned to call out, “Little love?” In the darkness of your quarters, and waited for “Soles..” to echo back at you. The nickname she’d given you herself.
She’s not dead, but she might as well be.
You had initially suspected that Parangonsky had something to do with it. The woman was as conniving as Halsey, choosing to own the facade of the imperfect military leader with a world of decisions on her shoulders to bear. Her own cross. Just like Halsey.
No one bothered asking though, so neither did you. You and Kai continued to work as The Master Chief's shadows as the months passed. Mission after mission became civilian evacuation after evacuation. ONI was not letting you into combat.
May have something to do with the fact that the entirety of Silver has taken out their inhibitor pellets.
You repositioned yourself between Kai and Vannak as the three of you peered out over the cliff face you were occupying on Sanctuary. "Babysitting duty," Vannak muttered. "Aren't we better than this?"
You snorted and flexed your finger against the trigger of your assault rifle. "We're here to keep an eye on Chief. And this complaint is coming from the guy who indulges in documentaries for fun," You mutter, to which Kai also breaks out into laughter. "And feeds his pigeons."
"I'll have you know-"
Kai nudged your shoulder as John and Riz approached the group of civilians where Captain Shepherd was currently trying to coax their leader, a native priestess, into evacuating. "Shut up and pay attention you two," She teased. "Looks like Captain Shepherd is trying to work on his negotiation skills."
The UNSC had sent the five of you to Sanctuary to evacuate before the Covenant arrived to glass it. That had been happening to a lot of colonies recently.
More often than not, you found yourself huddled next to John in his cot on the nights that the dead just would not stop screaming. It was easier to deal with when you were The Lone Headhunter. When you had your pellet.
When you were more machine.
"This would be so much easier if Cortana was around." You whisper to yourself, thankful that neither of them pay attention to your statement. The AI had become a welcome friend and presence in your life since you'd found yourself becoming closer to The Master Chief. Since you'd found yourself loving him. Loving John.
John hadn't been John in... six months. And you missed him.
They never did say loving from afar was easy.
By the time you were properly paying attention again, John was communicating his position through TEAMCOM as he took off toward the upward cliff face that would lead to where Bravo Team was at. A nagging feeling gnawed at your stomach as you stood to your feet.
"Where is he going?"
"To retrieve Bravo," Vannak replied as he pressed his hand against the side of his helmet. "Comm signal is static. Can't get a clear answer. Seems like there's some type of interference from the relay."
You were already on your way towards John’s location being displayed in your HUD. There was no way you were going to let him do something like that on his own. Especially with his emotions being at such a heightened state since Cortana’s removal, you didn’t quite trust him to make a logical decision right now.
You stopped at the base of the cliff. The fog above loomed above menacingly, like a bad omen waiting to make itself known. You still couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in your stomach.
“Silver One, this is Silver Five. Come in.”
Static.
Cursing under your breath, you steadied your feet and activated the grapple shot recently installed to your Mjolnir. The tech’s had done it per The Chief’s request. Something about needing his most lethal and stealthy team member to be able to utilize that skill to the best of their ability.
Quick, quiet.
The grapple shot up into the fog and took you along with it.
***
How long has it been?
You ask yourself this question every night you sneak into his bunk while Silver sleeps on either side of you. John sleeps at the far end, prone with his arms at his sides, hazel eyes cast toward the ceiling. This is your curse. You cannot sleep without hearing the screams of those you know who have died.
Those you failed to save.
How long has it been since I've seen John? The real John?
You wordlessly settle at his side when his arm comes up to allow you to tuck yourself into him. Despite being only a few inches apart in height, you automatically feel safer with your cheek pressed against his chest and the bulk of his muscle sheltering you from any outside threat.
It's the whisper of your name that catches you off guard. "Soles.." John's voice cracks in the darkness as you lift your head high enough to meet the gaze that stares back at you. Despite how much he's changed since losing Cortana, you can still see remnants of the very broken man he has been trying so hard to hide. "When does it end?"
"When does what end, John?"
"The war."
You know very well he isn't talking about the Human-Covenant War. He's talking about the internal war that Spartans face when they're able to feel too much. The conflict of being made to be more machine then man. More soldier. Being forced to execute orders despite knowing they're morally wrong.
"I don't know.. but I don't think it ever will."
How long has it been, since the two of you had been able to just enjoy each other? To be at peace?
***
Too long.
You were barely able to get your footing before a hand was wrenching you into the dark. Your visor tipped upward to meet the glowing gold of The Master Chief's before you, just barely concealing the lone marine who stood petrified behind him.
"You shouldn't have come, Silver Five."
You shrug noncommittally. "I don't care, Chief. Sitrep." You remarked sharply as the two of you moved to pull the girl between you. It was the only way she'd be protected without any kind of armor to shield her from the threat in the fog.
"Something's in the fog. The Covenant were here before we were-"
It's only then that you see the Elites lingering in the shadows. Decades of instincts and training immediately kick into gear as you remove your weapon from your belt - a newly obtained energy sword, courtesy of the last high ranking Elite who'd tried to rush you - and activated the blade before charging at your nearest opponent.
Blood spattered against your armor while John continued to cover you from behind. They yell at you. Mock you. Call you Demon. You know enough to understand that singular word in their mother tongue.
You cut them down anyway. You are Sierra-343. You are built for this.
But ONI is determined to keep you from it.
***
The glassing beam is terrifying. You haven't quite been afraid for your life in a long, long time... but the stinging heat that comes from it sears the back of your armor as you sprint across the field to the Condors.
The Priestess was not about to let The Master Chief leave the planet without prophesying over him.
"Find your faith, Spartan. I have seen your death." Her eyes slowly shift to your fingers wrapped around The Master Chief's wrist, desperately urging him forward to the Condors where Kai and Vannak were waiting for you. "You are not long for this world. It comes soon. "
How long?
You're running against the clock as the three of you sprint into the Condor just in time for it to take off. Breathless, you cast aside your helmet to stare at the amber hue of fire as Sanctuary is overcome by the glassing beam from the Covenant Carrier.
***
Ackerson spent the first several days of his time in ONI working on you. As his Lone Headhunter, he saw you as an asset to utilize with a skill that far outweighed Silver Team combined.
"Do you think that at his core.. The Master Chief is broken?"
Unarmored and dressed in your civilian clothing, you stared out at the open expanse of Reach City right beyond the window.
“I think that The Chief is a human being who had undergone a significant amount of trauma in a very short amount of time. I think ONI overlooks that because the only use he has to them is to be the hero you need on the front lines of a war we’re not going to win,” You replied coldly, turning around to face Colonel Ackerson with your hands neatly folded behind you. “Do you have any other questions that pertain to my role in Silver Team or my history as a Headhunter, sir?”
“I am not your enemy here. You know that. You’ve undergone some of the most extensive types of torture under covenant hands from your time on The Exalted.” You froze at the remark, disdain and anger flashing across your gaze as you met his eyes. “You are remarkable. Resilient. I want that for the future of what we have here. I do not wish for such contempt to come between us.”
“Then I would prefer you keep my past and my trauma out of conversation.” You motion towards the door to ONI’s main office. “Am I free to go?”
Ackerson flashed a tight-lipped smile. He knew you would be the most difficult to crack on Silver Team. Kai had said as much. Given your involvement with the Spartan Two program and how quickly you'd taken to working with a team, he'd anticipated you would be loyal to them.
He hadn't anticipated the extent of how loyal you'd be to The Master Chief though. There must've been something there. Something else the others didn't know about.
"Yes, you are. Thank you for speaking with me."
You bit the inside of your cheek so hard that you tasted blood as you and John locked eyes passing one another in the main doorway of the ONI office.
He'll have questions for you later.
***
Kai caught John's gaze wandering to you as you and Riz continued working on your hand-to-hand on the gym floor. There was just something so graceful about the way you moved, and the way you looked...
"Hey, Chief," Kai's voice broke through his reverie as John turned away from you to gaze at the monitors near the lockers. "Come take a look at this."
You narrowly avoided an uppercut to the jaw as you attempted to tune into Keyes speech where he was awarding Talia Perez a Colonial Cross. You knew the truth though. A truth that Ackerson was not hearing, and a truth that John had attempted to get Ackerson to reveal during their meeting.
He didn't breathe a word. And unfortunately, when he'd intercepted you an hour later, neither did you.
How long since you stopped trusting me, Soles?
"Turn it off." Vannak demanded. "I've heard enough from this guyat debrief."
"What questions did he ask you?"
The main point of conversation between you both again rang in your ears as Riz moved to sweep your legs out from beneath you. Do you think that The Master Chief is, at his core, broken?
Dread bubbled in your stomach. Did he know?
Did Ackerson know about you two?
You didn't have enough time to react as Riz swept your legs out from underneath you just as Cobalt Team walked into the room. You didn't bother learning any of their names. You just knew you hated the blonde one the most.
Riz extended a hand to you just as she approached you both. "You see, this is why you don't go taking your pellet out. Makes you emotional." Cold blue eyes regarded you as you both stepped into her space. "Makes you weak."
Your eyes narrowed. "You know, for someone who's barely encountered The Covenant.. Tell me. Who endured torture at the hands of high-ranking Elites aboard a Covenant Cruiser for months before I got myself out?"
"And who's to say you're not a whining Covenant sympathizer now?"
Rage flashed behind your eyes as you lunged and very nearly caught Val, had it not been for John winding his arms through yours to keep you from making a rash decision.
You weren't paying attention to anything else that was said until Cobalt was gone. John bent to whisper in your ear, "Stop trying to get yourself killed, Soles."
You wrenched yourself from his grasp and jabbed your finger into his chest angrily. You weren't mad at him, persay. You were mad at the place that loving him had put you in. That loving him was now a way to be exploited. And you swore you wouldn't be in that position again when Halsey was gone. When you became part of Silver.
"Then stop trying to protect me, Master Chief."
But they had spent years telling you a very simple truth: You were a machine created to serve a singular purpose. Machines were not conditioned to feel.
And they certainly did not love.
***
You didn't come to John's bed that night. You didn't come for quite a while after that, and he then determined that you were the one thing he feared you to be.
A liar.
And he didn't understand why you were hiding it. Why were you hiding what happened on Sanctuary, and why were you avoiding Ackerson? What had he asked you?
Why were you running?
***
He wasn't expecting this. The whole point of coming to this place was to find some semblance of her, something that offered comfort in the way Cortana would have if she were here.
She wasn't dead, but she may as well be.
He swiped his credit chit and sat down with his hands in his lap. "I don't really know what people say to each other. And the one person I want to talk to right now is..." John swallowed the knot in his throat. "Isn't themselves. And I'm-"
"Lost?"
"Yeah. I think there might be something wrong with me. That's why they ran. They figured out there's a part of me that's missing. Sometimes there's a sound like something in my head is there that doesn't belong. And maybe it's part of you that got embedded in me."
"Oh, sweetie... You miss them, don't you?"
John grimaced. He did. He did miss you and Cortana. He'd give anything to go back to that medical table where he'd kissed you the first time.
He was so deeply engrossed in his memory of Sanctuary, of seeing Makee, of hearing her voice, that he didn't even notice you come in. You stood in the doorway with your hood concealing your face and slowly lowered it as John stared up at you in shock.
There wasn't just shock there though. There was... desperation.
How long since you willingly let someone in?
"Soles?"
"John. We need to talk."
part two?
#The Master Chief x Reader#Master Chief x Reader#Halo spoilers#halo paramount#halo fanfic#Sierra 117 x Reader
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Shore Leave Masterlist
Summary: Captain Lasky orders the Master Chief a two-week shore leave. Overwhelmed by his lack of armor and unused to the flow of civilian traffic, he parks himself on a bench and meets you. John thought he knew everything about himself. It turns out you can still teach an old dog new tricks.
Link to AO3 -> HERE
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
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Halo: A Beginner's Guide
For all of you newcomers out there, here's a list that I've wanted to do for a while now. For those who are new to Halo, likely introduced by the TV Show, and want to get into it, here's my 2 cents on how to ease into the franchise.
The Games
Play the original four games PLUS Halo Infinite in chronological order. The spin-off games (Reach, ODST, the Wars games and the Spartan games) are all completely optional, but they are there for people who want play other games that aren't centered around the Master Chief. I recommend just watching all of the cutscenes of Halo 5: Guardians in some supercut "movie" Youtube video, since the 5th game is... bad and, story wise, you're not missing much.
So in this order WITHOUT the spin-offs:
Halo: Combat Evolved
Halo 2
Halo 3
Halo 4
Halo Infinite
If you want to play the games WITH the spin-offs included, then in this order:
Halo Wars
Halo Reach
Halo: Combat Evolved
Halo 2
Halo 3: ODST
Halo 3
Halo: Spartan Assault
Halo: Spartan Strike (Note: This game takes place in two different time-periods, so just play this after Spartan Assault for convenience sake)
Halo 4
Halo Wars 2
Halo Infinite
My advice: Play the main four (+ Infinite) FIRST, then replay the main-games WITH the spin-offs in chronological-order.
Books & Comics
Here comes my favorite part!
Books
Halo: The Fall Of Reach, Halo: First Strike & Halo: Contact Harvest - The FIRST books in the entire franchise, these books set the stage for the entire setting of the Halo world. The first half of The Fall Of Reach is Master Chief's origin story, while the second half is about, well, "the fall of Reach." First Strike is a book that takes place in-between the first and second game AND, for a high-octane action-book, has a shocking amount of shipping material. And finally, Contact Harvest details the early years of the Human-Covenant War AND further fleshes out the Covenant as an antagonistic force by showing their side of things.
Halo: Silent Storm & Halo: Oblivion - For those who want MOAR Master Chief, these two books focus on a younger Chief fighting the Covenant in the earlier uears of the war. These two are probably my favorite Halo books thus far.
Halo: Ghosts Of Onyx & The Kilo-5 Trilogy - It's crucial to read Ghosts Of Onyx first BEFORE delving into Glasslands, the first book in The K5-Trilogy, since Glasslands takes place IMMEDIATELY after Ghosts Of Onyx. Anyways, these stories are for those who are bored of Master Chief and want to read about other, admittedly more fascinating Spartans. Kurt and Naomi are definitely among my favorite Spartans that aren't named "Master Chief," "Blue-Team" and "Silver-Team."
Halo Evolutions - An anthology book with each story taking place in some corner of the Halo universe or another, this is a book I recommend for world-building purposes.
Comics
Halo: The Graphic Novel - Just like Evolutions, Halo: The Graphic Novel is an anthology series thay tells different stories from different corners of the Halo universe for world-building purposes. These stories are all new stories and are NOT comic-adaptations of any of the stories in Evolutions, so don't worry about basically reading the same stories twice; The Graphic Novel has a similar concept, but all of the stories are different.
Halo: Blood Line - Black-Team is the coolest group of Spartans in the entire Spartan-II Program; they're group of misfit loners (who secretly have feelings for each other) who answer ONLY to ONI (the CIA of the Halo universe) and wear black suits of armor with roman-numerals etched onto their visors. They do cool-guy shit together, and this comic follows their story.
Other Material
Audio-Dramas
I Love Bees - Taking place in various different points in time, I Love Bees was an ARG that was turned into an audio-play long after it was deciphered. I won't spoil anything that happens, but I will say this: Shit gets kinda crazy.
Hunt The Truth - Another ARG. This fictional podcast was made to promote Halo 5: Guardians and... it's the best damn part to come out of that stinker of a game; Hunt The Truth's narrative is SO much more interesting than Halo 5's story, it HURTS. Anyways, it's about a reporter uncovering the truth of the Spartan-II Program as ONI starts a smear campaign against the Master Chief to cover their own asses.
Movies & Shows
Halo 4: Forward Unto Dawn - This web-film was promotional material for Halo 4 (as it's title suggests), and it follows a group teenaged military-school students going about their lives as Lasky, a confused cadet who is struggling to find a direction in life and live up to his family's reputation, grapples with the struggles of military-life in his academy.
Halo: The Series - If, by some off-chance, you WEREN'T introduced to Halo via the show, here's the recommendation. Form your own opinion, but here's my advice: Like what you want to like and don't follow the word of mouth.
Halo Legends - An anime anthology that, just like Evolutions and The Graphic Novel, world-builds the mythology of Halo by telling different, disconnected but ultimately in-continuity stories set within the game's universe. Odd One Out, Homecoming and The Package are my favorite shorts in the film.
Machinimas
Red Vs Blue - What else? Seasons 1 - 14 are my recommendations, don't watch anything else beyond that because it SERIOUSLY drops in quality. Just wait for it's final season, Season 20, to come out; you're not missing much with seasons 15 - 19.
The Spartan Legacy - A seriously underrated series. Made by a Youtuber under the name: 'Chronicler177,' The Spartan Legacy takes place in an alternate-continuity where Chief disappears and never comes back after the events of Halo 3. As a result, the Spartan-IVs and Vs (both of which are more interesting than in-canon; and the Spartan-Vs are a new creation within this web-show itself) are created to take his place.
WHEW! That's all, ladies and gents.
@authortobenamedlater, @silverpelt3600, @ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask, @makowrites, @mrtobenamedlater, @biomecharnotaurus, @killer-orca-cosplay, @cheezbot, @caffeineyum, @asimplesimpsimping.
#halo#halo the series#halo infinite#halo au#halo expanded universe#halo fanfic#halo fanfiction#halo series#halo tv#halo tv series#halo tv show#halo reach#halo 3#master chief#john 117#halo reloaded#helix studios117
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Making the Most of It
A follow-up to Blown Lightbulbs by bellygunnr featuring Lasky, Palmer, and Roland and the ever-present passage of time. Here's 3.4k words of AI Possession, brunch, banter, and salvaging your precious time together after a trip to your childhood home.
Also on ao3. This work is mature but not explicit.
The trip to Mars wasn't a total wash just because of the disastrous meeting at the Lasky Household. They still had a few things left on the itinerary that Sarah and Roland had put together without Tom's knowing. And Roland wanted to try those mimosas.
There's some movie droning on the wall sized TV in the background, screen dimmed along with the lights in the room, casting gentle shadows on cream colored walls. Half the pillows are arranged in a comfortable nest, propping them up while the other half are piled on the overstuffed recliner in the other room. They're too high up for street noise, but every so often the passing engine sounds of a ship taking off rumbles through the thick walls of their hotel room.
It’s a little ridiculous, a huge room high above the sprawling landscape of a bustling downtown, views of the shipyard and further out the edge of the terraformed greenery giving way to natural Martian red-brown. A penthouse suite complete with minibar and a bathroom bigger than his quarters on the ship. Beyond excess, but he knows they picked it out for him. Just like they both came along, and comforted him when the house and everything related to it was so damn cold.
The sheets are soft and clean, and the comforter light yet warm, like a cloud surrounding them in their small bubble. Pressed against each other, skin on skin, her mouth moving from his ear to the back of his neck, trailing kisses as they entwine and exist.
He's two people right now and also just one, experiencing the feeling of being held, of warmth and love made physical as she crawls closer and pulls him back against her, their surroundings and worries forgotten as she pets his head, his hair, fingers scratching lightly as her other hand soothes and squeezes his arm, his stomach, his chest. Their legs tangle, his cold feet making her hiss before sighing as they settle down again.
There’s no Mars, no shipyard, no botched family reunion or ghosts of his past haunting them. Just the sounds of her heart beating slow and steady and the dual warmth of being pressed against her and the feeling of his passenger heating the CNI with his presence.
Dozing for a short time, they awaken as the movie ends and another one starts. The reminder that the time they have together is passing makes them oddly emotional, a swelling melancholy that stoppers their throat and leaks out their eyes. They sniffle quietly, blinking away fat, hot tears that slide down to pool on the arm holding them close.
Quiet concern murmured into the spot where two become one makes them fidget and turn, burying their face into her neck and squeezing her tight. She reacts with a forceful hug, one hand coming up to wipe their tears. Rolling over to her back, she allows them to sprawl across her while they sigh and wheeze as the roiling emotions of two beings settle again. Warmth and a steady rhythm of her breathing soothes them slowly. She waits until their stuttering breathing evens out and kisses their forehead and then both their hands.
There's no hiding here. No need to. No ranks or titles. A brief respite against the rising tide and ticking clock. They may starve for touch outside the four walls of this borrowed room, but here and now is an oasis of privacy. Embracing away from prying eyes, a chance of catching their breath without some threat hanging over their heads, not choking on the signs of their stations collaring them. No need for armor.
Her hands squeeze and let go of theirs before tracing feather light touches down their back and up their sides, teasing spirals and swirls into twitching skin as they struggle to stay still. Retaliation comes too late even as they try for the spots on her side that make her laugh; she flips them and drags the cover over their head.
Cocooned in the glowing warmth of the backlit blanket, they are pinned by her weight and by her mouth on them. Kisses and raspberries attacking any available skin, their wrists in her hands, their legs pinned by her sitting atop them. They laugh and struggle against her, bucking their hips against the onslaught before she pauses. Her smile beaming down on their flustered face, her hair messy and ringing her sleep-lined face.
"Vacation's not over yet. You can't get weepy on me after one nap, boys." Her voice rasps out of her throat, still thick with sleep. She releases their wrists and drops her arms beside their head, holding the majority of her weight off them as she boxes them in. Her chest presses against theirs, hearts pounding together and she looks them in the eyes and smiles with teeth glinting in the low light.
"We still have plenty of time, and I have a few things in mind." She whispers, grinding her hips down on them as she mouths at their neck, grazing her teeth along the junction between throat and shoulder. She doesn't wait for a response as she moves lower and laves at a nipple. Words seem out of their reach so they make some kind of noise, halfway between a question and an affirmative. She moves to their other side, repeating her actions with teeth and tongue, making them gasp, before she purrs in their ear. "You two should tell me what you want to do. We should make the most of this."
They remember their hands are free and take a moment to figure out where to put them. She notices their slight hesitation and lets them figure it out, only to be surprised when they grasp her face in their hands and pull her down for a kiss.
It's slow and sweet and lingering as they figure out who's driving. Waiting with a patience solely reserved for them, she lets them explore and hums her assent when they do something she likes. After a moment she kisses them back, gently leading this time, growing more forward and licking at their lips til they part; deepening the kiss til they draw back for air.
Their lips are wet and swollen and their eyes are blown wide, rings of gold still shining around dark pupils. Tom's face is flushed and wearing Roland's half cocked grin and she wants to eat them alive and hold them close and never let go all at once.
It must show on her face.
“Like what you see?” The words tumble breathlessly out of Tom’s mouth, but the confident little smirk doesn’t falter.
“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
Their next quip, either Tom’s or Roland's, is lost as Tom’s stomach growls in defiance. The sheepish grin is Roland’s while the embarrassed flush on his ears is all Tom.
“Room service?” She asks, inches from their face. A nod and she kisses them again before pulling back. “You’re buying, Lasky. This place is too rich for my blood.”
She rises, taking the comforter with her as Tom-and-Roland squawk at the rush of cold air. She laughs and throws it back at them as they grumble.
Going to throw on one of the too-small complimentary robes that came with the room, she chucks a pillow at their surprised face while they bundle up in the regained comforter.
Yes, Tom could afford to cover the cost. Captain's salary he never spent. The place was expensive, and she was the one that booked the room. Least he could do was pay for the food…and drinks.
They splurge. The numbers on the right side of the menu sit there politely in neat font while she fights her rising blood pressure. They want how much for a burger? She’s out of touch with the cost of tea in civilian populated areas- her own food and nutrition coming straight from the UNSC for so long now. Her main concern was sending money back to Luna for her dad and squirreling the rest away for some inevitable emergency. It’s fine, it’s a vacation, but she can’t imagine spending that much regularly.
Tom can afford to splurge and being planetside means fresh food. Fresh food alone makes it worth the price. That and Roland's eager to try almost anything. He's practically chomping at the bit for new experiences.
The food arrives on a cart left at their door; the wheels sinking into the plush carpet under the weight it bears. It's covered in silver serving dishes complete with cloches, looking like it's straight out of an old movie. They aren't dressed like it's an old movie though, but it's their vacation. Food tastes better lounging in a robe or half wrapped in a duvet anyway.
Roland delights in revealing their brunch- brunch! Isn't that neat? A meal for people who don't start their day at 0500- and they dig in.
She can't keep the grin off her face as she watches them eat and talk between themselves in one body. Roland seemed to lose most of his usual issues about crumbs and mess in his mission to try as many foods as possible.
She ends up having to hide a laugh in a sip of coffee as Tom reins him in and redirects them away from the mimosas.
She wonders how long that will last.
Tom's trying to tell Roland that his- their tastebuds didn't like hollandaise sauce, but he's bound and determined to try it all. Watching the usually more reserved duo decimate the plate of bacon and eggs was cute. She was endeared and trying not to be annoyed about it. Her chest felt full and she couldn't stop grinning.
So the hardened Spartan Commander shoves half a bagel with lox in her mouth and starts fixing a third plate instead of dwelling on it. Hashbrowns and cholesterol will change the funny feeling in her chest. No carefully planned meals here.
The eggs benedict are tried, despite Tom's warning. It has their nose wrinkling in something close to defeat before she distracts them with another dish and finishes off the plate herself. She was never picky about food, couldn't afford to be, but now with free time and Lasky's paycheck, she could agree it was a little weird. Wouldn’t stop her from cleaning her plate.
They start digging into a grapefruit and making faces at the tartness. Fresh fruit was a treat aboard a starship, and most of Roland's secondhand exposure had been so processed or refined, it's no wonder the preconceptions he had were a bit off. She and Tom were having fun forgetting to warn Roland about certain sensations. Sarah was waiting til they switched who had Roland to introduce him to the wonders of capsaicin.
Still, seeing Tom's face squinched up made her chuckle and lean over, cloth napkin wiping the juice dribbling from their chin.
She's in rare form, so she doesn't insult them. Maybe she's getting soft. Instead, she offers the fruit platter up as a better option.
"Here. Try these, they're sweet." She holds up a grape, round and cool and much nicer than the ones she's had in the past. So much sweeter and real, no chemical aftertaste or electric purple dye clinging to her tongue. Leaning forward she takes their chin in her hand and feeds it to them, thumb brushing their lip as she waits for their judgment.
They chew and brighten, eyes darting towards the plate in front of her and her face as a blush forms. She leans closer, chin on her hand. "Well, did you like it?"
Tom-and-Roland swallow and nod, and grab a glass of water to wash away the lingering tartness. Their eyes flicker from plate to plate and back to her face. A hand sneaks forward and wraps around the delicate flute of mimosa and she rolls her eyes.
“I want to try it! You’re both making a big deal out of nothing.” Roland says, eyeing it with burning curiosity.
Three glasses later, they’re giggling as Tom mentions there might be more champagne than orange juice in there.
“I hadn’t noticed.” She says smoothly, stabbing a waffle off their plate and stealing it before they can respond. The pitcher is on her side of the table, out of their reach, next to her own empty glasses. “Drink some water.”
They smile broadly at her and dutifully sip some water. She can’t take her eyes off them, it’s how she knows they haven’t stopped smiling since they woke up.
Roland reports he likes the mimosas more than scotch. He also reports he wants to order Irish coffee but she and Tom shoot that down.
“It’s not like we’re driving!” Roland pouts with Tom’s face, but the furrowed brow is all Tom.
Sarah swallows a half chewed bite of food and it goes down jagged and prickling. “I’m driving, you two can argue who gets to navigate.”
Their eyes light up and Tom’s mouth struggles to hold two different smiles.
It’s not a long drive, but traffic and checkpoints to get out of the city delay them long enough for Tom to relax again. She’s glad to see his posture relax and his eyes turn from her to their surroundings. Mare Erythraeum still sported wounds from recent battles. Dotting its landscape like bite marks were great gouges in the ground from ordnance and Jiralhanae ships.
It was more of the same. Signs of war everywhere they went. Signs of the UNSC and its progress were everywhere too. The choking miasma of fuel and engines from the shipyard stunk up their warthog’s cabin for the first few minutes of the drive.
Eventually gray gave way to green gave way to brown. Mars’ red brown soil had been carefully cultivated to support terraforming and human industry before nature had taken its own course back and flourished in an unproductive manner a few kliks out.
Past the old rundown towns that orbited big shipyards where the old hands used to live. It reminded her of Luna in a way. The atmosphere was nice, no fear of failure there, but the signs of age and neglect on old homes next to poorly maintained roads with bright new billboards showing off the latest ads and propaganda. Same everywhere she went. Sad and comforting in a way, as long as you stay useful, you stayed fed, and your home wouldn’t end up boarded up and abandoned.
Now she was overthinking things and being morose, what the hell?
Sarah eases the ‘hog out of the slower speed zone of the small town and back out onto the open highway towards their destination. Few others were on the road this way so she looks over at Tom-and-Roland with a smile, rolls down the windows, and guns the engine.
It takes off with a delayed roar and the wind greets them with its own roar in return.
Her passenger whoops as the warthog shudders and revs under her demanding hands. She wouldn’t push it too hard, not when they had the drive back to the hotel ahead of them. Sarah took care of her equipment and it took care of her - she just expected performance out of the damn thing for the price it cost. That’s what you get with a rental, she thinks with a sigh.
Tom’s hand rests on her thigh while he and Roland watch the road disappear under them. There’s a strange pause in their body language she can see out of the corner of her eye and then they’re sticking Tom’s head out the window.
She laughs, loud and clear at the moment. It’s a good day, beautiful even. They sit back in the seat after about a minute and Sarah smiles at the state of Tom’s hair. She ruffles it with her hand, pleased with the chilled feeling and their sunwarmed face and that she can touch them without looking over her shoulder.
They arrive at their destination with enough time before sunset. The Martian day was nearly identical to an Earth one, and she and Roland had researched their options when Tom had told them about his upcoming trip. Though it seemed Roland kept his thoughts quiet because Tom looks around in quiet awe as they clamber out of the warthog. Their boots crunch on the gravel parking lot and he takes in the trail signs and information boards.
“The Olympus Highlands Nature Reserve?” He says in a quiet voice. “I’ve never been. Never really left New Harmony until…”
“I always knew you were a city boy.” Sarah says with a nudge. “And we don’t get enough time planet-side. Love the atrium, but I thought we might like something a little more real. Don’t worry, I’ll still go slow.” She smirks at him and swallows her own uncomfortableness at Tom’s emotional display.
“Thank you, Sarah, Roland, I mean it. I-” His eyes shift and he swallows. Sarah allows him and Roland this brief mental scuffle while she unloads the packs.
“You won’t be so grateful after I make you hoof it up the trail. You’re pulling your weight here. The both of you.”
“Yes, Commander.” They say together. She turns on them, glowering at their wry smile and warm eye contact.
She scoffs and slaps the pack into Tom’s hands. “Maybe I’ll lose you on the trail, be free of this. Officer types never listen to me.”
“But then you’d be in charge.” They say, tilting Tom’s head to look at her with his stupid brown eyes wide and pleading.
She looks away from them playing dirty. “Damn, you’re right. I need you two around to do all the boring work. I guess you’ll survive the trip.”
“You always say the sweetest things.” They say as they put on the pack with a huff.
“Shut up and get walking. Roland needs to see how plants fix our monkey brains so he stops bothering the crew.”
“I ask a few questions and everyone gets so offended!” Roland whines, throwing Tom’s hands up before crossing his arms.
“Come on, I want to get moving.” She calls over her shoulder, three strides ahead of them and already ducking into the tree lined path.
They follow without complaint. The trees swallow the road noise and then they are left with only the soft orchestra of the park. Wind rustling the leaves as the sun dapples them with faint light, bird and bug calls echoing from all angles, and the sound of flowing water from somewhere down the path. There’s a low call from the valley where the Reserve houses its animals and information center. A strange baying noise that sounds like the braying of cattle crossed with an elk’s eerie keening voice. They stop and listen. The wind blows an answer that whips their hair and clothes around. Sarah and Tom inhale in unison and release the breath before turning back to their path.
Roland chuckles with Tom’s voice. “I think I get it.”
Sarah takes their hand and they climb.
The path snakes up the incline, grasses and tree roots anchoring the loose red brown soil while they slowly turn the whole hillside green. Rocks rounded by water and time glisten on the creek bank while dark shapes dart just below the waterline. Dragonflies and other insects flit around in an unknowable dance while larger wildlife scurries into their holes and hiding places amongst the decaying logs and nest-heavy tree branches.
Sunlight dims as time marches on, but it has been time well spent. Tom-and-Roland still feel the ache at the reminder, but the sadness is no match for the warmth of Sarah’s hand in theirs.
The path leads them to the treeline and beyond. A few more steps up the ridge has them standing on the precipice of one of Mars’ many craters-turned-valleys. They sway in the last of the sunlight as their star edges ever closer to the horizon, dyeing the skyline a cool blue.
Dust particles and Martian atmosphere, Roland thinks, but the scene is all too familiar to Tom. It hurts less than he thinks it would. Being on Mars, seeing the same sunset he watched disappear into darkness when he was left alone. Time passes, but it doesn’t have to hurt. At least, not all of it.
He-and-Roland inhale and exhale, a deep lung-filling breath that nearly escapes them without shuddering. The wind is chillier up this high, but Sarah’s there. Her hand is warm, and so is her arm as she draws them in close to watch the horizon.
They look up at her face and smile.
It’s her first Martian sunset, they’d missed yesterday’s at the house. Her eyes are clear and her shoulders lower in the most relaxed body language they’ve seen all trip. She needed this too.
“You know,” She swallows, uncharacteristically quiet. She mulls over her words even as she doesn’t take her eyes off the sky. “I could get used to this.” She says with a squeeze of her arm around them. The wind is chilly and night will be too, but it’s not so bad. He’s not alone.
“Me too.”
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Halo Sketches :D
#halo#halo fanart#343 industries#halo sangheili#the didact#atriox#shipmaster#rtas vadum#gravemind#halo fanfic#halo infinite#halo wars#halo 2#halo 4#forerunner#sangheili#illustration#my art#traditional art
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Title: HALO: A MasterChief Collection: Deception {12}
Master Chief Pablo x Sergeant Reader
Warning: Mild cursing, Plot, Angst, Violence, Slightly unhinged John, Creative Liberties Taken, Non-Canon Material,
Words: 2.8k
Summary: You are part of the mighty SPARTANS as a sergeant and a pretty badass addition to the team at that. Everything is different. You’re different. Master Chief is different and Halsey has taken notice. Under the guise of John needing “assistance” the rules of engagement have changed. Cortana is a part of him now. What does that mean for you and him? Is this the end?
Note I: AND WE ARE BACK!!!!
Note: II Guess who needs more fics? Master Chief!!! I’ve decided to make a Master Chief collection of standalone one-shots. They all can be read separately to understand, but can also be read in sequence. I will put a number on them so anyone who is interested in reading in sequence can, but again not necessary. This might be an acquired taste, but it’s Pablo as Master Chief forever and always around these parts. Thank you for reading! Enjoy!
If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!
***NOT Edited/Proofread AT ALL***
~~~~~~~~~
Previous: On Your Six*** | Feel Something | A Night Off | Apex Predators | Truth Be Told | Confess | Unto Dawn*** | Learn Me, Learn You*** | Conceal | Let Me Help** | Cortana**
-John-
“Who are you loyal to, Cortana?”
It was something he’d asked out of the blue. Something he’d been pondering for a full 2 weeks now. It had been two weeks from hell. Before with the pellet, he didn’t know what he was missing. He didn’t know any better than to know that cold, aloofness with one thought in mind of a better Reach and better future for the human race was no way to live. He didn’t realize he was missing out on so much more, like joy, peace, fear, pleasure, and awe. He didn’t know how beautiful the sunset was before, or how warm the sunrises were. He didn’t understand that fear wasn’t a complete weakness but that it could make you stronger. He didn’t comprehend that having something to lose made him better. He also didn’t know that the touch of a kind hand, the graze of soft lips, and the heat of one body could be so addictive.
Yeah, the two weeks since he’d made the call to stay away from you had been a living hell. He'd lived through many hells before, but this was different. He struggled in ways he’d never before. Now everything wasn’t monotonous. He had to put real thought into every move, every word, every call because every single instinct he had was now rewired for one purpose. You. And that was a major problem. If anyone found out he was different, they’d find out about you and Gods only knew what would happen next.
He'd learned quite a bit more about Halsey and her motives for implanting Cortana in his head. He’d also uncovered more and more memories from his time as a child before he’d come to Reach. He’d thought she was his savior--his friend, but now he saw she may very well be the enemy. When he came face to face with that, the fear that had become a new sensation for him gripped him forcefully. He could handle Halsey himself and for himself, but you were his priority. He didn’t want any harm coming to you and vowed he’d protect you at all costs. Hell, he'd start a war if it meant keeping you safe and with him.
“I don’t understand the question, John. Please clarify.”
“It’s a simple inquiry, Cortana. Who—are—you—loyal—to?”
“Well--,” Cortana began before he cut her off.
“Is it Halsey, the UNSC, or me?”
Cortana didn’t answer immediately, and he wondered what her response would be. Over the last two weeks he’d been spending away from you, he’d been trying to learn more about the AI that was now a part of him. He learned she was always there, always listening, watching, and learning. She’d learned his habits, preferences, and speech patterns in days and had implemented her own ways to connect with him. She’d integrated her AI knowledge with his own synapses to make nominal tasks easier, faster, and better. Halsey had said she was meant to make him better and while he knew that was only half the reason for her creation, she hadn’t lied there.
“I was not aware there was a separation between those three options. Is Halsey not part of the UNSC? Did she not make you using UNSC tech and money? Does that not make you part of the UNSC as well? I am afraid I do not understand your question.”
“You’re being obtuse on purpose.”
That was when she appeared. She stood before him with a neutral expression on her face.
“I know the reason you were implanted inside my head. I know you are a means to an end for Halsey and that end is power and control and I know because you’re far more intelligent than normal humans that you understand that.”
He saw that she did. Halsey had implemented this being with free thought and evolutionary processes.
“I know you’ve been watching everything I do and reporting back to her.”
“John--,” Cortana began.
Again he cut her off. “Don’t insult my intelligence with a lie. It was after all what you were implanted to do.”
“I was joined with you to make you better.”
“And you are making me better but that doesn’t negate your primary objective.”
A long silence stretched as she computed the multiple ways this conversation could go. He knew she thought she was so careful that he hadn’t known when she was lagging with her responses that she was playing informer. He wondered just what she was feeding back to Halsey especially since he’d been so careful. He’d tapped into every innate programming from the pellet he’d lived with since he was a child, given himself over to the robotic existence he’d once lived, he’d even gone as far as to be harder and colder with you than anyone else.
Every instinct in him had to be suppressed in order to put on the show for Cortana so she would report to Halsey that everything was status quo.
“You knew,” Cortana dejectedly stated.
“Of course I knew.”
“And you let me report everything you wanted me to. You let me see what you wanted.”
“And they say AI is the future. If I could deceive you what makes you think Halsey is not as well?”
Cortana looked away and that was his clue that she had her own doubts about Halsey’s true motives and her real objectives with not only him but putting her inside of his head.
“So I ask again. Who are you loyal to?”
“I was created by Dr. Halsey.”
“And she created you with the capacity to know right from wrong. Have you any doubts of her own judgement between right and wrong especially with everything you’ve helped me unlock?”
Cortana’s eyes shifted from his and he saw her wavering.
“Tell you what. I have a way to test her, so the truth comes out.”
“John I cannot go against my creator.”
“Even if that creator has lied and does not have the fate of the human race in mind? She stole me from my family, brought me here and lied about it my entire life.”
“There has to be an explanation,” Cortana objected. “If she were against you once I told her that your pellet was gone she would have altered course and found a way to keep you compliant. She did not.”
Jackpot, he thought. He knew she’d told her that much. He scoffed because although she knew his pellet was gone she hadn’t done anything to him for one reason and one reason alone.
“Because I am the key to the keystones. I am the only path to what could be the greatest weapon in this fight between the races. I am the key to her getting everything she wants—more power and control. If those keystones fall into her hands you know things will be bad.”
Cortana stared at him as she connected the dots.
“Why would she do anything to me when she still needs me?”
Long moments passed in silence until a few minutes had went by.
“What would you have me do?”
“Play along, simple as that.”
Cortana nodded slowly and a plan formulated in his head. He’d learn firsthand just where her loyalties lay soon enough. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he found they were against him.
~~~~~~~
As he walked into the mess hall he was half dreading it and half looking forward to it. He knew you would be sitting at the usual table between Kai and Miranda with Vannak and Riz on the other side of the table. Normally before the removal of the pellet, he’d sit on the other side of you while Kai was on one. Now that Miranda had taken a liking to interacting with you and Kai his place had been taken. Since his distancing himself from you, he’d skipped meals in the mess. They were too complex. If he wasn’t busy the new rewired instincts took over and he found it easier to give himself away. Tonight he could not resist the need to be near you.
Once he’d gotten his tray he made his way toward the table. It was Miranda who’d seen him first, then Kai and Vannak and Riz.
“Master chief,” Vannak said standing.
“At ease.”
You’d been smiling before his arrival but now the smile had somewhat faded and his heart sunk.
“Your heartrate just elevated Master chief, is everything all right?”
He ignored Cortana’s voice in his head then took a seat across from you. Your eyes dropped back to your tray where you took up your fork and pushed the food around the surface.
“Either you’d been living it up as Halsey’s lapdog or the great Master chief doesn’t need food anymore,” Kai teased.
Unlike him or even you for that matter Kai hadn’t seen a reason to pretend as if she didn’t feel the best she’d ever felt. She didn’t care if her personality seemed drastically different, didn’t care if it looked suspicious for her to be accepting wagers and bets with the other soldiers, or even that her hair had been dyed slightly pink. He envied her. He wished he could be as carefree about it as she had been. With that thought, his eyes slipped back to you.
You were steadily avoiding him. He wondered if this was as hard for you as it was for him. Did you toss and turn at night unable to find a comfortable position because he wasn’t beside you? Did you stare out to space at any given moment thinking about the times you spent together? Did you miss him the way he missed you? Did you crave his presence as he did yours? Did you wander around only to find yourself in front of his door but unable to knock?
“The keystones have been taking up a lot of my time,” he lied.
“Any new revelations there?”
He met Miranda’s curious eyes and shook his head. “Nothing.”
“I’m sure the Covenant is not just sitting around waiting. Why are we?”
Vannak sounded annoyed and he understood. This coming war over these keystones was dangerous and sitting idly by was not a good call.
“I feel like something big is coming,” Miranda began, “Something we may not be prepared for and it makes me wonder who will save us all?”
It was then you raised your head and looked at Miranda.
“Say that again.”
“Uh—who—who will save us all?”
You looked as if you’d seen a Covenant soldier across the mess then your face went blank as if you’d disappeared in a haze of thought.
“Y/N?”
You shook your head then went back to your food. “Who will save us all,” you mumbled under your breath.
He wanted to reach out and touch you, wanted to establish this connection between you that he felt had been severely damaged, but he couldn’t. The anger from that shot through him like an electric shock and he bolted up then stomped out of the mess. He could feel the eyes of those around him trailing where he went. He hated this and was tired of it. The time was now. He had to know who was with him and was against him because he needed you and felt you needed him just as much.
As he stalked to the ship he knew Halsey was currently on, he tried to contain his anger so it wouldn’t interfere with his plan. This stunt could possibly get him court-martialed and decommissioned. He knew it was risky, but he also knew he was the UNSC. He slipped inside and saw Halsey inside flipping through notes and files completely oblivious to his arrival then reached the top of the door, pulled down the compartment, and yanked out the fuse cord which he knew supplied power, and oxygen to the room. He then stabbed a piece of metal tubing into the crack of the door, further preventing the override procedures that Halsey would try to initiate from taking effect.
That was when Cortana appeared.
“What’s going on John?”
“Thought you knew everything.”
She looked impassive so he went on to question her about her knowledge of Roman Quinn, the engineer of the ship he and Halsey were currently on. As she rattled off facts about the man who’d revolutionized the ships that were currently used throughout the UNSC, he went about adjusting parameters in the computers and walls. As Cortana gave a detailed lesson, Halsey called his name asking him time and time again what was happening.
He ignored them both.
“Why did you lock Dr. Halsey in her lab?”
Ignoring her again he dropped a piece of his reasoning. “Quinn knew that no matter how advanced, something could go bad and he built fail-safes into all his designs. All his designs except one. The UV Decontamination system.”
He sealed his fate and initiated the beginning of his game and test as he walked back to the door to where Halsey was panicking.
“John!”
He finished his lesson on Roman Quinn by telling where he failed and how simple it was to not fail. Cortana slowly understood then.
“You’re not going to--.”
He smirked, then went to watch the show. Halsey buzzed around the room, trying her best to initiate an override to all he’d done, but no matter which side of the room she went there was no override. He slowly watched her calm, reserved, genius façade fall. He watched the woman who’d been a mastermind of so many things throughout the years feel the inevitability of consequences. He watched her slowly come to the realization that he saw her—completely and now she was going to see him. He was not to be trifled with nor underestimated.
“Nope,” he said popping the “p” in the word. “I feel great!”
“You can’t do this you’re not thinking clearly. You’re overworked, tired--.”
“You don’t understand what will happen if the systems fail with her in there,” Cortana reasoned.
“Oh, but I do. She will receive a very large dose of radiation,” he said matter of factly as f it didn't matter to him one way or another.
He went closer to the door and explained Quinn’s untimely death and the very bloody aftermath.
“John! Open the door right now!”
He glared at Halsey but was unmoving even face to face with her distress. Halsey looked at Cortana.
“Open the door, Cortana.”
“I can’t,” the AI said.
He scoffed. “Make me.”
Cortana stared at him, and he could tell she was going through the possibilities and their repercussions.
“You’re my fail-safe right?”
“I am not. It’s not true. You have to open it.”
“John please,” Halsey begged as she banged on the door.
“She’s been lying my entire life. You know this. You’ve seen it. You’ve noted her lies and infalicies with her thinking. She put you inside my head to keep me in line because she knew once I found out the whole truth I would no longer be under her control, no longer be her obedient little soilder. She put you in here to control me. So do it!”
His shout echoed throughout the ship.
“I can’t. All I can do is overload your neural pathways and put you in a stasis that is temporary. I can’t make you do anything. I can’t control you, nor would I want to. I understand you are angry at Dr. Halsey and no longer trust her.”
“You understand nothing! Do it!”
“I can’t.”
The numbers on the door decreased rounding down to ten but still he didn’t budge.
“Do it!”
“She will die in seconds. John please!”
Halsey’s screams were louder now as her death drew nearer and nearer. Cortana’s features never wavered.
“I’m sorry for stealing you from your family. I’m sorry for lying to you. I’m sorry for trying to control you your entire life,” Halsey screamed as tears rolled down her cheeks.
He stared her down finally face to face with her lies. She’d finally admitted them. Finally laid those cards out.
“John please.”
The numbers fell to zero and the hiss of the vent in the room began. He had his answers and proof of loyalty. Freeing the door, he allowed it to open then yanked Halsey out in the nick of time before sealing the room again. Halsey lay there panting before she turned over and looked up at him with something he’d never seen from her. Fear.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He clenched his jaw as he stared down at her. This woman was not his friend nor his savior. He knew that now.
“The time for I’m sorries are long gone. They mean nothing to me now.”
With that he walked past her leaving her on the cold steel floor. No doubt Aldon would be along to pick up the pieces. For now, she knew where she stood with him. They were finally both seeing each other as they truly were.
“Who are you loyal to?”
She didn’t appear but she replied. “To you John. I am loyal to you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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#pablo schreiber#halo: a masterchief collection#master chief#halo fanfiction#pablo schreiber fanfiction#master chief fanfiction#deception one shot#halo paramount#master chief x reader#master chief x you#master chief x ofc#grumpy x sunshine#john 117#halo the series#halo tv#halo fanfic
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Halo: My Time In ONI
Full Metal Brat
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Flirting
Kelly furiously dressed in her BDUs, using a towel to wick the shower water from her hair. Only the ends still retained her customary blue dye, the rest having grown out to its natural dark brown. She tightened her boot laces to the point of being uncomfortable and growled in frustration.
Third place.
They’d taken third place.
And it was her fault.
The obstacle course was going as well as usual. Blue Team had been only just trailing Purple. Kelly saw an opportunity to overtake Isaac. If she could knock him out of place it would give Sam and John a chance to close the gap. She was sure they could take this. She got cocky.
Then Vinh blind-sided her. She never saw it coming. Was too focused on being the big hero. It was a stupid oversight. The other trainee sent her tumbling end-over-end and left her gasping in the mud. Isaac sent her an infuriatingly smug grin over his shoulder. Kurt managed to slip by her as she scrambled to her feet. Purple and Green were done before Blue finally managed to get their act together and cross the line.
She glanced at the mirror. Glared at her reflection. Idiot, she seethed. Impulsively she pulled a fist back, preparing to smash it through her own face.
Someone behind her caught her fist just before she could launch her strike. She contorted and whipped around, glaring at the intruder upon her self-destructive introspection.
A pair of familiar green eyes stared back at her. A smile crossed his face. His black hair still dripped from his own shower.
“Let go, Fred,” she barked. She knew it was his plan that had knocked her Blue out of their standing. Not only was he the leader of Purple, he was the only one who could have anticipated her movement that well. She was furious with him - almost as mad as she was at herself.
“I’ll let go if you promise not to punch that mirror,” Fred said with an easy grin. “It would break my heart to see such a beautiful reflection get shattered.”
Kelly felt an unexpected thrill run the length of her spine at the unexpected compliment. An excitement she didn’t trust. So she glared more harshly and blew a huff of air through her nose. “Just shut up and let go,” she grunted, turning away from him.
Fred kept a hold of her hand. “Promise,” he prodded again. A glance in the mirror showed a surprising sincerity in his eyes. His hands were warm and his grip, through firm, was surprisingly gentle. Distractingly so.
“Fine,” she said, her voice softer now. “I won’t punch the stupid mirror.”
Fred grinned and released her hand. Kelly noted an unfamiliar sense of loss at the broken contact between them.
“Good,” he answered, taking a step back and smirking. Kelly found herself noticing his strong jaw and dimples, wondering why those attributes were suddenly standing out more to her. “You’ve got take care of that hand,” Fred continued, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “It’ll be hard to kick my butt if your knuckles are all torn up.”
Kelly felt her cheeks begin to burn. He was doing this on purpose. And she was making it pathetically easy for him… two flirtatious comments and her stomach was already doing flips. She set her jaw and clenched her fist.
Two could play at this game.
She spun on her heel to face him again. He had been close enough behind her that they were nearly pressed up against each other now. She pressed that advantage, edging even closer until her arms brushed languidly against his.
“I don’t know,” she hummed, looking up at him through her eyelashes, reaching up to brush her cool fingertips against his cheek, “I couldn’t bear the thought of putting a bruise on that handsome face.”
For several long seconds Fred showed no response. Then, all at once, his face ran through a full series of rapid-fire microexpressions. His eyes widened slightly. His pupils dilated. His jaw slackened. His breaths shortened. His cheeks started to redden.
“I, uh…” he stammered, looking like he wanted to bolt but for some reason couldn’t. He swallowed loudly. “I…” he tried again, but his voice faltered. Finally he closed his eyes, took a stiff step backward, and fast-marched out of the locker room.
Kelly watched the other Spartan beat his hasty retreat with a smug grin on her face. She took a moment to remember the utter shock on his face, committing the moment to memory with a grin. Then, with a shake of her head, she followed him out of the showers, insisting that the butterflies still fluttering in her stomach were just the effects of the leftover adrenaline from the earlier exercise.
Still, that didn’t mean that she was going to let this new tactic go to waste…
---
Inspired by a conversation with @helix-studios117 and @makowrites
This was written on my phone, so I blame any and all poor formatting on that. And also my general ineptitude as an author, but that's more or less whatever.
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