#i'd lose my fucking mind. personally.

[thats-a-mood-gabriella]

I wonder what would happen if those cultists from Apology Tour tried to summon/sacrifice to Stolas now that he's lost his powers and title.

[firkant-fugl]

If I had a nickel for every time one of my parents accidentally (yet completely preventably) broke a mug of high emotional and sentimental value to me, I'd have two.

Which isn't a lot, but it hurts that it happened twice.

[blitany]

at this point i would rather just never place my trust in anyone ever again than keep being disappointed like this

[dragonatthedinnertable]

Fuck, it sucks to be depressed AND on a diet.

I made Healthy Banana & Oat Weight-Loss Cookies, and they taste like cardboard. Boring cardboard. And that's with cocoa powder & cinnamon added.

[musical-chick-13]

HOW DOES ANYONE EVER FINISH A MULTI-CHAPTER FIC

[running-in-the-dark]

oh, I see. it's one of those nights.

[eviefrve]

I appreciate work for getting me out the house but God working Sundays is so boring

[ame-to-ame]

love being nd and have the tism wolf Inside me be so drastically uncomfortable with uncertainty that i physically cannot think about school and having to deal w the unknown of that whole situation without losing 5lbs in 2 days

[battle-subway-ghost]

This idea is objectively fucking hilarious and anon should go ahead and do it.

ok so i forgot if i already asked this but. is it normal to want to battle people with 6 dittos so im literally just using their team? and praying to god they DONT know what a ditto is? and then if they ask about it just denying the shapeshifting blobs were shapeshifting and that was my real team?

hey man. i don't think normalcy is on your mind when you build your team like this

[diomedrian]

I think all of this would hurt less if I blocked him, I don't think I'm angry that he fell out of love. That happens, that's understandable. I think I'm angry because of how he handled it, how he has the audacity still to wake up every day and text me at least once. I want to punch the living shit out of him. I never want to see him again.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-two —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 5.2k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I'm sorry lmaooo nine months... hopefully we can finish this thing!

B

"Hold him close to your chest, or he'll jump out of your arms. Here—like this."

Blue gently cradles the rabbit, then carefully tucks him into Ari's arms, guiding his hands to scoop under Grim's fluffy rear. She can't help but find it amusing that the boy who had taken her riding on such a large animal yesterday looks so wary holding a harmless bunny. A giggle bubbles up, and she bites her lip to keep it in.

"He's so... squirmy."

Blue keeps her hand on Grim, reassuring both the rabbit and him. "He's just ready for his breakfast. Want to help me feed him?"

"Sure."

Blue leads Ari to the hutch where the other rabbits are. She explains her morning routine, showing him how to supply the rabbits with enough grass, leaves, and berries to keep them healthy and plump. Not long ago, she was explaining this to Twix—the very person she forgot to say good morning to in a rush to find Ari outside. This time around, she wonders if Ari is genuinely interested or just being polite. She finds herself stealing glances at his face, studying his expressions perhaps longer than she should. His almond-shaped eyes and dark pink lips catch her attention.

He's cute.

It's not the first time the thought has crossed her mind since these strangers appeared. Cute like the men in her magazines, though he's not quite a man. Not in the way Ghost is. But he's taller than her by a head and two years older, evident in the notch on his throat and the deeper timbre of his voice.

But it doesn't matter. They are only here for a few days.

Blue closes the hutch and rocks on the soles of her boots. "Well, that was probably boring, huh? We could, um, go hunting if you want. Or to the pond. It's fun to swim there. Or maybe—" She pauses, mentally sifting through the limited activities available, frustration creeping in as none of them seem particularly impressive.

"This wasn't boring. Now I know rabbits are just as friendly as horses." He smiles.

"They are... except when Grim gets mad. Then he can be a bit of a jerk. Like if you accidentally step on his tail."

"I'd be pretty pissed if someone stepped on my tail, too."

"You don't have a tail."

"It's just a joke."

"Oh..." she fidgets with a strand of hair. "Right."

"The pond sounds good. It is fucking hot." Ari blows out a breath and swipes at the back of his neck.

"I know. So hot. Hot as balls."

Ari raises an amused brow. "Yeah, uh, hot as balls. Are you allowed to go by yourself, or do we need to ask your dad?"

"I get to do what I want," she lies easily with a shrug. "Buuuuut, we can ask Twix to go with us."

As long as Twix is with her, she suspects she can get away with not asking Ghost, who luckily is hunting with his old captain. It's not that he seems distrusting with these people as he did those first few months with Twix. Rather—she isn't thrilled about him knowing every little thing she does. She's never had anything just to herself. 

Twix is sitting on the porch, looking rather deep in thought as she skins a squirrel. Her hair is long, curtaining her face. When Blue asks if she wants to go to the pond, she agrees easily, claiming she has been meaning to cut her hair anyway with the encroaching warmth of summer. Nereida joins, too. 

Even early, the air is sticky, and the pond is cool and inviting. Ari rips his shirt off and jumps in without even a second to waste. Blue usually swims in her underwear and shirt, but she hesitates with her thumb in the belt loops of her jeans. She didn't consider that he would see her in her underwear. 

A soft touch to her shoulder. It's Twix. "Want me to grab you shorts real quick?"

"Um... yes. Yes please."

She changes into the shorts behind a tree. There is an odd pit in her stomach when she gets in the water. She doesn't quite know what it is, but it's similar to how she feels when she's scared sometimes. Ghost always tells her fear is a useless thing. It doesn't keep you alive. So she ignores it, shoves it down deep, and swims over to Ari with a purposeful splash that even wets Twix, who sits at the edge sharpening her knife.

"Damn. That's gonna cost you."

A splash is given in return, and then they are playing. High noon bounces shimmering light off the water as she tries to keep up with him, but at one point he sneaks up on her and she ends up with a mouthful. Nereida spends her time picking at some bunches of rosemary and Twix cuts her hair. But Blue doesn't notice any of that too much. When the water stills and they pause to catch their breath, Ari climbs onto a rock and shakes out his wet hair. She is quick to find a perch beside him. Absentmindedly, she pinches the bottom of her wet shirt to keep it from sticking to her chest.

"Woah. What happened here?"

Ari leans over to tap her thigh. 

"Oh—" she looks down at the thick scar, "I got shot there."

"Shit. You've been shot before?"

She nods and he moves his hand. "That's your battle scar."

"Battle scar?"

He smiles, eyes gleaming. "It's nice to have some place to swim so close by. Back at our old camp, there was lake but it was a few miles away, so my mom rarely let me go."

"I'm sorry, you know. About your mom. Mine is dead, too."

He half-smiles. "Thanks. I don't think about it too much anymore. My uncle and I have always been close so it helped to have him there." He nudges her shoulder. "You're damn lucky to have such a cool dad, huh?"

"Ghost?"

"Yeah, that guy is a beast. My uncle says they called him Ghost because no one could ever see him coming before suddenly, they were dead." 

"Oh, yeah, he is super cool," she quickly agrees. "He has taught me a lot."

"Shit, really?"

Nibbling the inside of her cheek, she shrugs to feign indifference. "I know how to throw knives pretty well."

"I gotta see that." His smirk etches a light dimple into his cheek. Then, his eyes flash behind her. "So what's up with his girlfriend?"

"Huh?" A divot forms between her brows before she follows his gaze, landing on Twix, whose hair is now just past her shoulders. She is wetting it, running her fingers through the newly cut strands. "Oh—Twix. That is not his girlfriend. She is my friend."

"You mean they don't sleep together?"

"Like in the same bed?"

"That's usually where people fuck, yeah."

He seems ready to laugh. She frowns, head tilting as confusion hums in her chest. "You mean like sex?"

He nods. "You know what that is, right?"

"Yeah, of course. I know all about it."

"You know they're probably doing it, right?"

"Ghost and Twix? No—no," she forces a laugh. "I mean, sometimes I catch him staring at her all weird. But I don't think—I mean, they hardly like each other and she is my friend, really, not his. He used to make me stay away from her, even. But I mean, they do spend a lot of time together now. It's usually to practice fighting and defense. Not to have...sex."

"Don't they share a room?"

"Just right now, because you guys are here."

Ari chuckles. "You really think they aren't fucking in there? She's really pretty. There's no way they aren't."

Blue looks back at Twix. Blue's fingers curl into the soaked fabric of her top. Her eyes flick back to him. "She would've told me if they were."

"If you say so."

T

Your thumb throbs in rhythm with the steady pump of Kyle's arms. Despite pressing it into your palm to dull the pain, the ache persists. You had nicked it while sawing off your hair, and now the taste of blood lingers in your mouth. You were still lapping at the painful pulse when the three men arrived to the pond, carrying a neon orange inflatable raft. They want to test it out on the water before embarking on the 35-kilometer journey across the channel. 

It is the third day of their presence and you can honestly say you've grown more comfortable, given that Kyle has gone hunting with you a few times now. He is easy to talk to, along with Nereida. Price—however—doesn't seem intrigued by you, or maybe you are insignificant in comparison to the rest that is on his mind. That's fair. You don't all need to be friends.

They've been spending most of their time gathering food. Ghost has been helping Price hunt deer to skin and dry into jerky they can take with them. Nereida showed you a patch of wild strawberries she found yesterday, boiling them down into jams before canning them. By having food with them, they will save time from having to hunt along the way. In perfect conditions, it would be a straight path, and they could make it to the Swiss mountains within a month or two. But it won't be a straight path, and obstacles are bound to hinder them.

Kyle audibly growls and straightens, wiping at his percolated brow. "This chamber just isn't inflating."

"It must have a hole somewhere. Check the seams," Price says.

Ghost flips the half-filled raft over with ease, running his fingers along the PVC. "Here." He taps what must be a minuscule puncture because you can't see it from where you sit. 

They patch it up with the little adhesive they have. The unease is noticeable as Kyle keeps pumping in air; they only have enough to cover a few holes, if they come across more. Finally, the six-person raft is full and they toss it onto the pond. Just the sight gets you thinking of all the variables they have to think of on the open water: the weather, currents, temperature. You had a friend in high school who swam across it once. She didn't get even halfway but having to pulled out, vomiting, and near-hypothermia. Open seawater is different than a pool. Unpredictable and quick to change.

"It seems sturdy." Nereida winds an arm around her husband's waist, pressing a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Don't worry about it."

"As long as it stays sturdy."

"It will," she assures him.

The cut has crusted over by the time evening settles and you have to will yourself not to pick at it. You find yourself alone with the horse, watching the sun set behind the trees, as everyone else eats. 

"You probably don't like being tied up here, huh? You'd rather be running around." The coarse mane engrosses your fingers. Cherry bobs her head and a wet muzzle brushes your elbow. It tickles and you smile softly. "I wonder what will happen to you once they leave," you whisper. "Horses can't fit in a raft, huh?"

"No, they can't."

A hand presses into her neck beside yours, the person's arm extending over your shoulder. You crane your neck at Kyle but his eyes are on the animal, thoughtful, brows lowered. You wet your lips and step to the side to bring more space between your bodies. 

"Not hungry either?" you ask.

Finally he looks at you, lips quirked at the side. "Nah. I had a big lunch." He stops petting her and crosses his arms, chin tilting. "Ever ridden a horse before?"

"Once or twice. As a kid."

His eyes almost lean dark green in the cast of orange light, but it must be a mere illusion. "Care to go for a ride?"

His eyebrow rises expectantly. You glance back at the cabin and then at Cherry. "Why not?"

He instructs you how to get on. You grip the knob of the saddle and flex your core, hoisting yourself with more strength than you've had to use in a few days. Kyle sits behind you and grips the reins after untying her. The last time you were on a horse was for a friend's birthday party; you trekked through a ranch on a white pony. Cherry is much taller than that one was, or maybe you're not fond of being so high up. You thread your fingers through her mane.

It is a silent ride at first as you try to ignore the sting on your butt, unused to firm leather seat. He must notice your discomfort because he tells you to relax and lean back. You do, until your spine brushes against his chest. It helps a little.

Cherry trots calmly through the trees, towards the circle of stumps that marks the east. 

"Do you think she will be able to take care of herself?" you break the quiet. 

"I'm sure she will be fine. Smart girl, huh, Cherry?"

The sun has disappeared but it isn't quite dark yet. "Are you scared?"

A breathy chuckle emits from behind you. He must realize what you are referring to—scared for the journey. "Yeah, always. I mean—I'm scared about Ari. He's the last family I got, and as old as he thinks he is, he's still young and naive. I still have to make choices for him."

"I was terrified of losing Joseph," you admit, and swallow. "He was so young and fragile. It felt like...like trying to keep an egg from cracking when your hands are made of stone. But at least I never had to take him to another country."

"That was your nephew? Joseph?"

You nod. 

"Tell me about him."

You rack your brain. "Well, he was seven. And he..." You smile to yourself. "He was the pickiest eater in the world, even when we were all starving. I could not get him to eat meat unless I practically burned it. And he liked to look at bugs. I did, too, when I was young. I used to dig up worms when it rained to show him." He hums a gentle laugh behind you. You find yourself lost in the thought of it for a second. "Sometimes I...I think about how once I die, there will be no one left to remember those little things about him. Then, he will be completely gone, you know?"

You don't know why you're telling him this. You shake your head. "Sorry."

"Don't be. We gotta talk about shit like that or else we'll go crazy."

"I'm pretty sure I'm already crazy."

"Probably." A deer passes to the left and Cherry startles, but he is quick to soothe her with a flick of the reins and a stern—easy. She settles. "Are you scared?" he asks after a moment.

"Of what?"

"Of traveling so far."

"Well, I don't know if Ghost..." you trail off, absorbing the tone of his voice. You stiffen. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"I mean how we're all leaving in a month."

"Wait—stop." You grip his hand over the rein with more force than necessary, urging him to bring Cherry to a halt. You twist your spine and gape at him. "What are you talking about?"

He eyes you with a frown, and rubs his neck. "Shit. I thought he already told you."

"No, he didn't. Tell me," you demand.

He clears his throat. "He, uh, agreed to come this morning, but only if we take another month to prepare and shit. Get his daughter ready, sort things out."

You try not tremble in anger as his words sink in, clenching your hands as your breath picks up. "Take me back," you breathe out, brain racing. "I want to go back now."

The ride back is silent. You feel shaken. Your nail digs deep into the nick on your thumb unthinkingly until there is a smear of blood over your fingers. The others are getting ready for bed when the two of you return, moon bright. You bite your tongue until Ghost leaves to his room, then you follow him, closing the door as gently as you can behind you.

He is halfway through peeling off his socks and stuffing them in his boots when you approach. "What happened to being a man of your word?" 

He looks up, resting his palms on his parted knees, looking far too relaxed for your liking. 

When he doesn't respond, you add, "You were supposed to tell me. You said you fucking would."

Your voice is low but harsh.

He stands, a calm understanding washing through his eyes. "I was about to tell you."

You throw up your arms but try to stay quiet. "Bullshit. You're just saying that now. You've had all day to tell me."

"I was waiting for the right time."

"You think I can't handle it," you accuse, an ugly snarl on your face. "That I don't deserve to be apart of these conversations even after everything I have done for you, and for her. I saved her life! You get pissed at me for not telling you about stupid things, meanwhile you don't communicate something so important like we are leaving with them in a month to fucking Switzerland. Does Blue know? Or do you keep your own blood in the dark, too?"

He growls quietly and takes hold of your chin, tilting your gaze to his. His touch is firm but far from bruising. "I am not lying to you. I wanted to have a conversation right now, where it could just be us. And no—I haven't told her. How I explain this to my child is not your concern." There is a command in his voice that forces you to calm down some, but your breath is still warm through your nose. He moves his hand to gently thumb a strand of shortened hair off your forehead, staring at it for a second, before gripping your chin again. "There is nothing I think you cannot handle. Now, who told you about this?"

Blotches of red crawl over your cheeks. "It doesn't...it doesn't matter."

He is visibly unsatisfied. He taps his thumb against your chin. "Tell me."

"It was...Kyle," you concede in an exhale. "He assumed I already knew."

His eyes darken. "It wasn't his place to assume."

"He didn't mean to." You reach up to pry his hand off, and he relents, leaving your jaw feeling sore. You rub it. "Why a month?" You try to change the topic.

He takes a deep, steadying breath and looks away, jaw flexing. "She needs time. I want to prepare her for all possible outcomes. I still don't think she is ready, but that doesn't matter. There won't be another opportunity like this in the future. I have to make her ready." He sits down on the edge of the bed and sits his elbows on his thighs, collecting his thoughts before adding, "And the weather is a big factor. Just because we have means to get across the water doesn't mean it will happen safely. The current is most predictable in July and August. We will wait until then."

You mentally sort through everything he is saying, willing yourself not to linger on the fact that you are beyond scared. Scared to leave the place you have finally felt safe in. Scared to clearly be the odd one out again. A tag-along. Everyone else in this group has a loved one looking out for them. You have yourself. You don't know if you have Ghost, really—not when Blue is the one he loves. His allegiance can only go so far.

"Okay," you whisper, more to yourself than to him. "A month, then. What about shelter? The nights will be our most vulnerable."

"We'll look for the safest places for the night. There'd be seven of us, so plenty of eyes to keep watch."

"And what if we run into a horde?"

"Well, we have plenty of ammo now for that." He flicks his eyes up to yours. "Thanks to you."

You nibble your cheek, palming your chest as if to calm your heart. 

"A month," he reminds you. "We will account for everything."

"Okay," you say again. There is a tinge of embarrassment over your outburst, but he doesn't seem fazed, as if you hadn't just barged in the room yelling at him. "Okay."

A click of his tongue. "Any more questions?"

"Not...not for now, I guess."

A few silent beats pass. The tension has left the room, leaving you with a wave of fatigue. Ghost must notice because he rises, gesturing to the bed. "Go on, then." 

The bed is yours again. Too exhausted to question it, you slip under the quilt, curling into a fetal position by the slanted ceiling. It's best to enjoy the warmth before you're back on the move. A week journeying through the woods was the worst you'd ever endured, barely surviving. Now, it'll be months, or however long it takes to reach the goddamn Swiss mountains.

The light flicks off. There is a groan in the mattress and heady warmth spills over you. Your eyes fly open. "What are you doing?"

"Getting some sleep."

You turn around to see him lying beside you, flat on his back, with his arms crossed behind his head. "Together?"

"Clearly neither of us fancies the floor."

You flush, feeling his firm thigh brush against yours. "Just... keep to your side."

"I'll be a gentleman, if you're worried."

"I'm not," you mumble. "How do you even sleep in that thing, by the way?"

"Like a baby."

"Don't you think it's weird that Kyle has seen you without it and I haven't?"

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Twix."

"And mental sanity doesn't suit you, Simon."

"Don't recall giving you permission to use that name."

"What, only your old captain gets to use it? How close were the two of you, exactly?"

Teasing him feels better than you're willing to admit.

He grunts. A pillow is thrashed against the side of your face. "Go to sleep."

"Yes, sir," you bite into the pillow.

Your instinct is to flinch closer to the edge, though it is difficult given the small size of the bed and the unnatural size of him. Your knees float off the mattress. Still, his sprawled-out position leaves points of connection. Your back, his elbow. Your feet, his calf. Small touches that do a surprisingly good job at soothing the mess in your brain.

You awake. Warm and rested.

Safe.

Morning light streams in, turning the backs of your eyelids red. Your face nudges forward until your nose brushes against fabric—a shirt. Awareness settles in slowly. Your toes stretch and brush against another set of toes. You realize you’re curled close against someone.

He’s still on his back, his right arm draped across your waist, fingertips resting on your exposed hip. Your breath hitches, and you do your best not to flinch. Your face is nuzzled into his chest, close enough to discern ribs from muscle. His steady breathing and gentle rumbles indicate he’s still asleep. You’re ready to peel yourself away when you notice your leg is on top of his, practically trapping him.

Fuck.

You stay still, devising a plan to extricate yourself without him noticing the position you're in. Then, in one swift motion, you leap up, removing all contact, and breathe hard as if ripped from a nightmare.

His eyes open and he swears. "Jesus. What was that?"

"Just a dream," you lie. "Sorry for waking you."

You jump out of the bed and practically run out before he can say anything; before he can realize how odd it'd be for you to have a dream when you haven't had one since... since staying in his room.

You lock yourself in the bathroom and grip the counter, knuckles whitening in the attempt to erode the feel of his warmth that seems to linger. A lump is forced down your throat as you lean back against the wall and close your eyes for a moment. When they reopen, you look down and lift your shirt, only to find the indent of strong fingertips brandishing your plush hip. Jesus. Your stomach knots and unknots. 

"You didn't like that," you whisper to yourself. You brush your thumb over the marks, gently at first, then palming them hard as if to erase them. You drop your shirt and look at the mirror. "You did not like that."

Before someone can stumble upon you talking to yourself, you comb your fingers through tousled strands and slip out. It seems most others are awake. How could you and Ghost have slept so long? Usually, the two of you are up with the sun. 

"Hey. Morning," you greet when you spot Blue on the porch, belly down, as she plays checkers with Kyle's nephew. She glances over her shoulder. Something in her bright eyes seems...off, but you can't put your finger on it.

"Hi. Is Ghost up yet?"

"Hm? Oh, uh—not sure. I didn't check, really."

"Okay." She looks back at the game and says nothing else. You feel as though she saw right through you. Or maybe that boy has told her everything. Surely he knows about Ghost's plans? Kyle had to have told him. Maybe that is why Blue seems upset, but like he said, it isn't your place to say anything. 

You are itching for a hunt. 

It feels urgent, for some reason. Like you want to get out of here before Ghost can be up, too. You find Kyle and he suggests that the two of you take Cherry so you can get go further south where he claims there is a meadow to look for deer. It is difficult to ride with him behind you and a bow on your back, so he wears it for you. You can feel his eyes on the back of your head.

"Awfully quiet this morning. Penny for your thoughts?"

"I talked to him," is what you give. "Last night."

"Ah. How'd that go?"

"It was fine. I mean, I am getting used to the idea."

"That's good. It'll be worth it, you know. Once we get there. Finally get to have a semblance of a normal life."

A normal life. You almost snort at the thought. 

The morning grows longer, and not even the haircut can save you from the sweat that gathers. You make it to the meadow after an hour of horseback that leaves your thighs bristling. He helps you down and ties Cherry to a tree. You wade through tall, bright grasses that sway in the humid breeze. It looks vaguely familiar, stirring something in your gut that has your boots frozen for a moment. 

Kyle looks back at you, noticing that you've stopped following. "Good?"

"I just—I think I've been here once before. When I was on my own. I came this way." Your eyes scan the surrounding trees, where the meadow feeds into the forest, and an a gnarly oak with distinctive branches catches your eye. "I definitely have been here. I slept in that tree."

You push into the meadow, shaking off the memory. Staying close to Kyle, you listen as he lightly shares memories from the military, careful not to startle any potential deer. He talks about his time in Afghanistan, mentioning that his brother was also there, but at a different base. Kyle didn't even know his brother had died until weeks later because he was out in the field.

"After Afghanistan is when I met Ghost the first time."

"Oh?"

He nods. "He was my lieutenant when I went to Russia. I was scared shitless of him at first. I mean, he had a bit of a reputation and I was only 22."

"He was good at what he did," you say.

"More than that. People said he was up to some shit outside of what he did, but that was just rumors."

You think you spot a streak of gold through the grass, but it is just a stalk of wild wheat. You look back at him. "What do you mean?"

"May have heard a thing or two about him killing a guy off-duty. Of course, unconfirmed, otherwise he wouldn't have been enlisted again."

He killed someone? Like actual murder? You're about to ask more, your mind flashing back to your face pressed against him an hour earlier. Then you spot a deer. Kyle sees it too and motions for you to stay quiet. Your boots are nearly silent as you draw an arrow, squinting to see clearer. There are three deer: an adult female and two fawns. You draw the string and aim for the adult, the easier target.

"I'll get the doe," you whisper.

"Gotcha."

The beady black eyes turn your way, and you hesitate for a moment. There's movement, a flash of grey, and the doe snaps her eyes in another direction. What is she looking at? Your brows furrow, arrow following her gaze, when the answer appears: a Grey launching toward the deer. The three deer run off, and you release the arrow, aiming for the Grey's head instead.

"Motherfucker. Ruined the kill," Kyle mutters.

You weave toward the corpse, surprised to see such a fast one alone, indicating a new infection. The stench is pungent, enveloping you in a thick cloud. You shudder. The Grey writhes, your arrow lodged in its neck instead of its brain. You draw another arrow and aim when a hand suddenly grips your shoulder.

"Twix," Kyle breathes in your ear.

"What?" 

You look away from the Grey and follow Kyle's gaze, your eyes widening in horror as you realize the terrible smell isn't from this single creature. It's hundreds. A dark, grey mist that unfurls through the trees. A growing chorus of agony as their tattered bodies collide—some limping, others hurtling forward in a grotesque dance, but all converging on the meadow.

[s17s17]

My dad's taken to ranting about "the gays", and how one commercial showing guys kissing is "the dumb fucks just ASKING FOR people to hate them more!" like dude can you seriously shut the fuck up about things that scare you like that? Nobody cares that you're scared of literally everyone around you. Nobody wants to listen to it six times a day. Nobody wants to hear it once. The world is a wide open place, and your pathetic little world view is so very small. Your voice doesn't need to make up for it. It never has.

[viisator]

2nd Time • Nishimura.R

Tittle : 2nd time.

Pairing : Nishimura Riki x F!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warning: Sex.

: You and Riki are best friends since middle school.

Not Proofread

• • • • •

"I can't believe this..." You muttered in disbelief. Riki's playing good-knows-what beside you not bothering to give you a glance. You're currently in his room, sitting on his bed with him.

"Hm?"

"Remember when we went to this party last Saturday?" You let out a huff.

"What about it?" Riki glance at you from his phone. When you didn't answer, he immediately put his phone down and shoot you a curios look, making you sigh.

"I just had my first sex..." You whispered, but Riki's eyes grew wide,and you know he heard you very clear, your gaze drop to the bed sheets in shame.

"Seriously?" Then his surprise shifts into a frown. "Then why do you look disappointed?"

That made you groan, gripping your hair frustratedly as your head drop on the pillow on your lap. Riki stare at you in confusion.

"Because I am disappointed..." You lift your gaze and see his deep frown.

"I did it with a junior--look, I was drunk, alright? And I made a promise to myself I'd lose my virginity to the person I love. If possible, once I got married and now-" You didn't finish your sentence heave a long defeated sigh.

Riki scoot closer to you and give you a pat on the back, scoffing a little.

"Why did you even do it if you're regretting it this much?" He asked. You answered with another frustrated groan.

"I was drunk and horny... obviously." Riki rolled his eyes at your remark and grab his phone again to start another game. Ignoring you.

You didn't mind even if he starts another game, you just know that whatever he's doing, he'll always listen to you.

"I hate this..." you grumble again.

"Riki help me..!" You grab his arm and starts shaking him. He gave you a deadpanned look and slap your hand off his shoulder.

"Seriously, What am I supposed to do? make you virgin again?" He said in irritation making you whine in return.

"God I hate this..." You muttered beside him.

"I wouldn't mind it this much if I lose it with you instead." Riki's fingers halt on his game, then he gave you a look.

"Are you being serious?" He asked without the earlier irritation in his voice, instead, this tone of is low and deep, almost above a whisper.

"Yeah, seriously." You rolled your eyes. "If only you took my virginity before that party , I wouldn't regret it this much." You said between sighs. When you glance at him again, there's this unreadable look he has, almost a predatory stare that makes a prey like you very uncomfortable.

"What's with the stare?" You asked, a frown slowly form on your face while his stare's not waverng.

"You're talking about sex." He said flatly.

"I am." You nod with a little uncertainty.

"With me." He added. You nod again in confirmation.

"I mean- if you're offended I brought this up-" He shakes his head slightly before interrupting you.

"That's not it." There's a cool in his voice that made you shiver a little. You swallowed thickly.

"'Just that- you're asking me to fuck you, indirectly." Your eyes widen while your lips parted. Silence filled his room as you stare at him in disbelief while he stare back at you, his expression still cold and blank.

"That's not-"

"You're not entirely not a virgin anymore." He move closer to you, his hand slowly finding your waist, pulling you closer, then in a blink of an eye, you're straddling his lap, his hard cock poking your butt, making you wet and more red on the face. His right hand then roam under your shirt, the soft skin of your waist in his grip, while his other hand held your nape, caressing gently as he pulled you closer, placing your head on the crook of his neck, his lips grazing your ear as his breath hit your skin, forming goosebumps all-over your body.

"If I fuck you right now, I bet you're still tight. Imagine your pussy clenching me, hm?" You bite your bottom lip to suppress the whimper urging to escape your lips as your hands find his shoulders for support, making him smile slightly.

His right hand move down your hip, then your thigh. He give your smooth thigh gentle caresses and rubs as he slowly slips his fighters in your shorts, reaching your inner thigh.

"Riki..." You whispered as you slowly lift your head to give him a glance.

"Hm?" He remove his hand from your nape and hold your cheek instead. "You're not ready yet?" He asked gently, warmth in his tone.

You shake your head. "That's not it- it's just...We're about to do it...aren't we?" The uncertainty in your voice made Riki smile a little.

"Yeah." He plant a small peck on your cheek, then the other cheek then your nose and your forehead, leaving you breathless and flustered. He took your lips with his teeth, nibbling and sucking, his left hand made its way up your shorts reaching your panties, while his other hand tilted your head up to deepen the kiss, his tongue fighting yours and eventually dominating your mouth. His fingers graze your clit, you whimper against his lips, then his thumb stared rubbing like his tongue rubs yours. You break the kiss and grasp for air, clenching his shoulders as his fingers slips inside you one by one, while his thumb rubs, his three fingers enters and exits your hole. Riki couldn't help but let a quiet groan out as he grow even hard by your moans and the way you ride his fingers breathlessly made him want to fuck you to sleep with his cock. Then soon enough, you reached your limits, your moans filled his room, he slowly slips his fingers out of you and caressing your cheek and give you a sweet, gentle kiss on the lips before you collapse against him, both in tiredness and embarrassment from being fucked your best friend's fingers.

Note: I don't care anymore. This draft was when he turned 18, maybe two weeks after his birthday and I never posted this because it's so inappropriate. Sorry btw. But I'm clearing my drafts then I'll quit tumblr because of shame.

[musical-chick-13]

.

[leonsgfpost]

note: Hi! this is my third official post, crazy stuff. Thanks so much for all the support, I didn't think my trash was any good 😭 Btw, I hope you enjoy this too. English isn't my first language, so sorry if there's a mistake. 💕

tags: smut, comfort, insecurities, Leon is so cute, Leon x fem! reader, doggy style, orgasms and more!

Leon loves you madly. He really does. So every time you ask that question, "Do you love me?" he answers honestly, just because he can't tear his heart out and give it to you.

This man is capable of lowering the moon if you ask him to, he would do anything for you. He is honest, he doesn't lie. He wakes you up with soft kisses, on his days off he hugs you as if you were the only thing that keeps him grounded. You are everything to him.

And it's not that you doubt him, but different situations in your past led you to be insecure, to a sour whirlpool forming inside you about it. About him. Even now, when he's balls-deep inside you.

"Leon, Leon-" You murmured between ragged gasps, feeling his chest pressing hard against your back holding you in place. Taking every thrust he gave you. "Do you love me-?" And that feeling inside you came again. You felt like crying. Maybe from the pleasure, or maybe from the overwhelming sensations.

For a moment you think he doesn't hear you because of his current state. Heavy breathing, eyes tightly closed, body sweaty and his mind blank every time he sinks down to touch that spongy spot inside you.

But he wouldn't miss a hair of yours.

"I love you, I do, dear.... More than anything." He affirmed again, because he would repeat it to you every time you want. And the question sounds unreal in his fucked up head, of course he loves you. You're the only person he can open up to, show that young man who died inside him in 1998. He even took the audacity to have hopes, dreams again. Because next to you nothing seemed impossible.

"I love you, I love you." He murmured in your ear along with the low moans he couldn't contain, not when your walls were sucking him in so good. And I'd be lying if I said not now he's the one who wants to cry. He'd kiss every part of your body, kiss you all over until he could make you forget everything. Just like he does when he's with you.

His hips try to keep his deep rhythm, while his arms search for a way to embrace you to keep him grounded. Your ass is smacked by his pelvis every time he plunges in, over and over again with ambition. The wet sound of your wet pussy is the complete opposite of the cute words coming from Leon's lips.

"You're the only one for me, you're everything to me...Oh, G-God-" Now he started to ramble, trying to get his whole cock inside you until he can fuck your brains out and make you forget.

"Fuck, I love you, baby-!" His voice was already shaking, but I didn't know if it was from the effort of pushing you or the effort not to cry over you like a fucking baby.

"C-Come on, say you love me too." His voice tried to sound demanding, but it sounded like a plea. A desperate plea to know that you loved him too, because he wanted to be loved. He needed it.

"I love you, Leon. I-I love you, I love you so much." You said obediently, your voice coming out choked from having your face buried in the sheets. Your hair was disheveled, little beads of sweat trickling down your back and trembling thighs trying to support your weight. And little tears began to fill the corners of your eyes.

Maybe he had already fucked your brains out.

And Leon's chest tightened, pushing his lips carelessly into your hot cheeks. He was always so sweet even when he was fucking you like you were a slut. His cock bullying your bruised pussy again and again, because he couldn't catch a break. You were the air he needed to feel alive.

You made him feel alive.

As alive as he was now, as his hips began to quiver and his thrusts became sloppy, feeling his cock contracting tightly inside your walls. He could lose his mind right now for you.

His fingers moved down to play with your painfully throbbing clit, you let out a high pitched moan and your walls tightened feeling the familiar euphoria explode inside you, your orgasm coming in a sloppy way. Your body immediately relaxed into the sheets, trying to recover, but Leon wouldn't slow down, not when he was so close too.

He released your clit to run a sticky hand up to one of your tits, kneading it as if it were his own anti-stress toy. He carelessly kissed your wet cheeks and his hips pushed all the way in, releasing all his seed inside you. His cock contracted and discounted with spasms, giving you all of him.

"I love you." He whispered weakly, hugging you and trying not to fall on top of you. His heart beating fast in his chest, beating for you.

Because Leon Scott Kennedy loves you more than anyone. And he would devote every day of the rest of his life to prove it to you, if you let him.

were there too many "I love you"s? haha, sorry! But I can't help but think that Leon really needs a lot of love.

Let me know if u liked this, thanks!! 🎀💗

bye, bye (💌)

[n109hunter]

Fates Rewritten -

pairing: sylus x mc word count: 3,058 summary: After MC wakes up from an all-too-real dream, she struggles to piece together the fragments from another life - and rushes to seek out the only person who can soothe her sorrow. tags/warnings: SPOILERS for Beyond Cloudfall (Sylus Limited Myth), first person, angst, emotional hurt + a little comfort, established relationship a/n: This is my entry for the fanwork contest on twitter. I wish I'd had a little more time to polish it, but deadlines be deadlines. It was largely my need to get some of the intense emotions out after reading Beyond Cloudfall and "fix it" in a mostly canon compliant way.

(ao3 link)

I woke in a cold sweat, body aching with the all-too-real memory of growing horns and a tail - but more than that the pain of losing him. As if I’d really lived it. As if I’d really lost him. 

I’m vaguely aware of tears streaming down my face as my hands clutch mindlessly at my chest. Unable to calm the racing of my heart, my lungs burn as if I’d just been fighting a horde of wanderers. My waking mind rails against the possibility of any of that being real, but I know - I know too damn well it was all true. My mind and body resonated with those memories and the damning pain too deeply to have been false.

A wellspring of grief swells up from my chest, emotions too big to name let alone reason with overwhelm me and get lodged in my throat. I have to see him. It’s the only thought I can firmly grasp onto as I choke on one sob after another. 

Trembling from head to toe I climb out of bed, scrambling around my room as my body attempts to go through the habitual motions of getting ready. I go to grab a shirt but quickly drop it on the floor in favor of a jacket - I don’t have time to change, my pajamas are fine, I just need to see him. As I leave my apartment I almost forget my helmet, before hurrying back frantically to grab it. 

It’s dark outside, probably some early hour - I could have called him, but those kinds of thoughts weren’t processing. The overlap of memories is disorienting: I didn’t have anything like a phone I could have called him with in that lifetime. 

An orphan, raised on stories of slaying dragons, branded a sorceress to be executed… To be told such a fanciful story would have been one thing, but to remember it? Not everything entirely, nor clearly, but I remember enough. More than that: I remembered how I felt, and I can feel it all too keenly myself. The desperation, the anger, the desire, the hatred… And the love. The depth of our bond that tugs at me so violently now: I need to see him right fucking now. 

From a street lamp overhead Mephisto tilted his head as he watched her amble towards her bike, her movements… odd. He was a smart enough bird to know something wasn’t right, and sent a message to Sylus. 

I don’t think about how it is probably exceedingly dangerous to ride in my current state of mind. I’m too preoccupied taking countless fragments of moments and holding them to the light, seeing how they overlap.

“Do you know what you look like right now?” His voice asked me, layering gently over itself in two very different times. 

“What a smug expression.” || “You’re a young dragon who just grew her horns.”

I remember when, indignantly, I bit his hand in an act of defiance against fate. And I remember when, with that confident, captivating look on his face, he bit my hand playfully in the café.

Speeding down the streets towards the N109 Zone, countless memories re-arrange themselves in my mind. How many times? How many times had he reached out to me, spoke to me in a secret language only we could know, hoping to trigger a spark. 

And I had known it all along, deep down. From the first time I saw him, when I looked into his eyes and felt that insatiable urge to devour him. When I absorbed the aether core and saw that dreadful moment where his clawed hand grasped mine and stabbed him through. Every time our aether cores formed the linkage between us, or even that time in the cathedral, where we played the organ together… 

“You actually remembered.” He had said.

How many times have I asked him to explain? And now… Now I think I might understand a little of why he didn’t. At the very least, I can’t imagine how to explain it if it was me who remembered first. 

But at the end of my dream I was left alone, clutching the last fragment of his soul as my body painfully transformed. It was then I woke up with an anguish too great to bear, but also: a smoldering determination. Or rather, maybe it was better to call it ‘defiance’, of the fate we’d been handed. But I can’t fathom what might have possibly come next. With a grief that big, part of me doesn’t want to.

All I know for sure is: I have to see him. He’d been bearing the burden of it all this time alone, I can’t bear the thought of him being alone one more moment. To say nothing of the sickening nausea that wrenches my gut remembering how it had felt to watch him die. I have to see him with my own eyes, feel him with my hands, know that he is real and alive.

By the time I arrive at the base I’m somehow more disoriented than I had when I’d woke up. I feel like a time traveler several times over. The ride had been such a blur I barely remember it, which is a scary thought, but I don’t care to linger on it. My mind and body feel out-of-sync, and when my body sways it takes a second longer for my mind to correct it. I feel… drunk, almost, or drugged, like the first time I came to the N109. 

What am I going to say to him? I wrack my brain for a single word to start with, but before I can grasp anything I’m torn back to a dream within a dream in a flower field, I think of the flowers he took me to see a few weeks ago. 

Sylus is so damn good at reading my mind, would he know just by looking at me? 

The familiar sound of a crow calling startles me, and when I shake my head the synchronization of my body and mind gets a little better. Mephisto lands on my shoulder, and it’s a comforting weight. 

“…Were you following me?” I stroke a finger against his neck absently, out of habit. He leans into it as if enjoying the attention, but I suspect it’s more of a friendly gesture for my sake. 

The doors swing open and the faces of the twins greet me. 

“Hey there, boss-lady.” Kieran starts in his usual, friendly tone, but then it shifts as if he’s unsure of something. “Uhh, boss isn’t here right now, but he’s on his way.” 

“He said to get you anything if you needed.”

For a moment I simply stare back at them as my brain processes these new inputs. As often as I come here nowadays, it wasn’t like they needed to roll out the red carpet for me or anything, so this welcome is… a little odd. Then it clicks, and I glance at Mephisto again.

“You told on me.” It feels nice and a little grounding to know my favorite mechanical crow is still looking out for me like always.

He turns his head away and gives a short, indignant caw. He’s being stubborn and a little shy.

“I’m just going to wait in his room…” I tell Luke and Kieran as I walk in, handing my helmet over to them. They step aside, but I hear them trailing behind me a little ways down the halls - they’re shuffling and dragging their feet on purpose.

“All right, but… just let us know if you need anything.” Then, silently, they fall back into the shadows. 

Do I look as bad as I feel? My face does still burn from crying so much, and I feel tired enough for two lifetimes of shared memories. 

Once I step into his room though, an inexplicable comfort washes over me. I feel a tension unravel and a new wave of grief as I hug myself, consoled in the smallest sense seeing signs of him.

Mephisto flutters over to his perch, but keeps a silent eye on me. Lingering in the middle of the room, I scan the familiar sights slowly. The art on the walls, the records and record player… My heart twists recalling that he hadn’t appreciated music ‘back then’. 

It all makes sense, doesn’t it? The hordes of trinkets and weapons he collects are much the same as back then. I can’t help but wonder how many of the weapons were collected from people who had tried to kill him, like those kept in his lair in Tarus City. 

A searing anger kindles within me at the thought of it, and a realization follows that once again my beloved has been branded a villain in this life. I cling to the anger, it’s so much easier to deal with than all the pain and grief, but it isn’t nearly enough.

I can’t bring myself to sit so I simply stand in the middle of the room, hugging myself tighter. What I need to do is get my thoughts and emotions under control, and figure out just what the hell I’m possibly going to say to him. But just thinking about how to open her mouth and utter the words makes me feel like I’ll start sobbing again. Or vomit. Maybe both.

Maybe he already knows. We’re bound together, we’ve shared dreams before… Again my thoughts derail as a heat warms my face recalling a certain dream I had a few months ago. I pat my cold hands against my cheeks, and internally squash down my shame. So what if he knows about that? 

Except, he knew all along and never told me so many other things, too. Part of me desperately wants something to be angry and indignant about, but instead all I’m left with is a sweetly sharp and aching pain: I love him so much. He’s always trying to be so considerate of me, and I know it’s because he wants us to live this life that we have together, right here and now. I feel so sure of it in the depths of my soul, as if his heart beats steadily alongside my own whispering this answer.

Tears are running down my face again. How can one person cry so damn much?

The door opens behind me, and I realize I haven’t thought of a single thing to say to him. My throat feels tight and my brain is just as uncooperative as it’s been this entire time.

Behind me the familiar sound of his footsteps approaches, and he softly says my name like a question, gently coaxing me to look at him. 

He told me before: between him prying and me opening up, he prefers the latter. Today, I might need him to pry a little. But more important than anything: I need to see him. 

That one overwhelming feeling that brought me here turns me on my heel. Without hesitation I rush to him, taking his face between my hands and tracing every detail with my gaze. He does the same, searching my face for answers - not yet reading my mind, it seems. 

I trace his jawline with my fingertips, brush my thumbs over his cheeks, my attention lingering briefly in places where scales grew like armor once. For the first time since I woke up I am seeing clearly, my body and mind in sync, the world and all things settling into place as I trace a finger down the bridge of his perfect nose and then brush it over those irresistible lips. 

And of course, those eyes. His utterly captivating eyes that pull me in and keep me. It hurts to think that I might have ever been afraid of him. I know now better than ever before (and I definitely knew it before) but he is, of course, utterly deserving of that fear. But not from me. Never me.  

Sylus’s hands rest on my waist. He doesn’t move away from my inspection, and for several moments says nothing either. He simply watches me in return, a slight furrow in his brow as he waits patiently - no doubt assessing every possibility as to what might have drove me here in this state. He’d raze Linkon - even the world - if something upset me. If I asked him to. 

I need to put his mind at ease. I wet my lips and take in a breath, but the words die on my tongue. 

“What happened?” He asks gently when he sees me struggle. Then, with a hint of pain -or maybe guilt- in his voice: “Did you have another bad dream?”

Despite everything, I smile. I also barely choke back a sob, but I still can’t help but smile. His hands draw up to cup my face and gently wipe the new tears from my raw cheeks. I manage a small nod to give him some measure of an answer, as I give him another look-over. 

He’s here. Alive. My dragon is here with me. I have to tell him I remember. 

But those aren’t the words that come spilling out.

“I love you.”

That’s the most important thing. Even if I can’t stop myself from crying again, I have to tell him this, even if I’m shaking as I press my hands to his chest, gripping the fine fabric of his suit and leaving wrinkles. 

“I love you so much, Sylus.”

He looks a little stunned, which I might have delighted in any other time. It’s subtle, because it’s Sylus, but his brows are slightly raised and lips parted as he tries to make sense of the state I’m in and the words I’m saying. Maybe I’m making it worse. 

“You-?” He starts to speak, maybe to ask something, or maybe he figured it out. But at long last the next words are there in my mouth full of bitterness and relief, hope and grief, and too many emotions to name let alone stomach, so I fling them out to be rid of them at last.

“I remember.”

It barely scratches the surface, but it tells him what he needs to know for the moment. In dozens of moments in our time together I have seen looks like this one on his face. Where memories overlap and he has to carefully bite back his words and feelings. I understand it very well now. Right now he’s wondering: ‘How much?’ and it’s not as though I could answer that for him in a single word. I’m certain there is still so much I don’t remember. 

“Is that so?” He asks slowly, brushing a hand over my hair soothingly. “And what exactly did you remember?” 

Yeah, I should have seen that one coming. I touch his face again, gazing into those stunning ruby eyes as I try to find more words. I’ll start simple.

“I remember a dragon.” Yes, that’s an easy place to start. In my memory he is breathtaking beyond words. “A beautiful, lonely dragon, who spoiled me rotten.” I feel a smile return to my lips, and I can feel the smug satisfaction of the Sorceress burn hot in my chest. ‘Rotten’, yes, by the standards of the Ivory City. But she had embraced her true desires, her true self.

Sylus closes his eyes for a moment and lets out a quiet laugh, a smirk on his lips. 

“You actually remembered.” He sighs, and though he sounds relieved, there’s some other emotion I can’t quite place. It might be close to the ‘guilt’ that sometimes colors his voice when he feels bad about plaguing my dreams with his wounds. Which seems fitting, in a strange sense. Painfully fateful in another.

How many of those dreams were actually ‘real’? Like the dreams we created between our bound souls, like warmth born between clasped hands. 

It doesn’t matter right now. Probably. 

“But… you left me.” I can barely get the words out, they’re quiet and break under the weight of emotions, but at the very least I don’t cry any more. I might actually be all cried out, but my head is definitely starting to hurt about it. 

“You should know that’s not possible.” He speaks in a low, soft voice. There’s an undercurrent of forcefulness that betray strong feelings, but he’s purposefully speaking so very gently. He takes my opposite hand, twining our fingers together. “Our souls are bound together. I am always with you.” 

“But you died.” I know it’s true, I felt it. He isn’t exactly denying it either. 

“And I’m here now.” 

His words are irrefutable. That’s all that matters now, isn’t it? It’s also not like I haven’t seen him survive the impossible before. It isn’t an answer, not exactly, but it settles some of the loud confusion in my head regardless. 

I touch my fingers just below his right eye. A familiar hunger thrums gently in me, but it doesn’t frighten me. For now, it’s enough knowing that it’s proof of our bond.

“Yeah…” I murmur, aware of how unconvincing I sound. Softly holding my chin he leans closer, so his eyes are all I can see.

“And I’m not going anywhere.” His words sound like an echo of our oaths to each other. The ring clear and strong, unwavering; the confidence he always embodies reverberates within me. I squeeze his hand tightly. 

“Good.” I feel my resolve overlap with the Sorceress’s from that moment he nearly slipped through her fingers completely. “You’re not even allowed to think about leaving me.” Her words overlap with my own, and I watch a smile form on his lips. “You’ll always be tied to me. Forever.”

That’s right. We’ll tear down any fate that tries to keep us apart with our own hands, and then we’ll reforge it into whatever we desire - together.

He lifts our hands and places a soft kiss against my knuckles. Time and again I’ve seen emotions pass over him that I couldn’t understand, but now I see more clearly. The warmth of relief eases his shoulders and bolsters him. I think… maybe he didn’t even expect my remembering to soothe him as much as it does. 

“That,” he says as his thumb sweeps over my lips, “is a fate I will gladly accept.”