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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 9 months

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Ghost x City Girl Reader

After your car breaks down on you unexpectedly in the middle of the night, you're left with no choice but to call the only number left available to you... Ghost.

NFSW 18+ Shameless Smut, Porn w/ Plot, P in V sex, Intimate, Steamy Makeout, Build-Up, Banter, Drama, Flirting, Seducing, Dry-Humping, Romance, Hatemance, Enemies to Lovers Trope, Cheating, Toxic Relationship, Light Angst, Characters are Flawed, Ghost and Reader are mean to each other, however things start to change, can be read like a one-shot, but reads better with context

WC: 6.1k~

Author's Note: I finally finished this chapter! Personally, I like how it came out and I like where it's going so far. Since the hatemance has been established, the only way to go is up, right? Please let me know what you think though! And please enjoy~

Masterlist

NGMLTS Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Six

"Come on, come on, come on-"

You step forward towards the edge of the road, making sure not to accidentally step 5 inches deep into another puddle of rain water. There, your eyes catch sight of another pair of car headlights on the fast approach in the distance.

Its florescent glow expands like tiny, white orbs within the black of night, speeding by ever closer each passing second.

Perfect timing.

You stick your thumb out, using your other hand to try and wave down the approaching vehicle.

"Hey!" You call out, as though they can hear you over the sound of their own vehicle. The growing sounds of trees around you blowing in the wind like it were trying to conjure up a tornado hadn't helped either. "Hey, I could use some-"

The car zips by, carrying a gust of wind which insultingly hits you on its departure. You scoff to yourself, watching their red tail-lights slowly disappear down the road, and suddenly you're reminded of the predicament you'd just found yourself in.

That's the fourth car that's driven past you since your car unexpectedly decided to take a shit on you halfway through on your drive home.

Deep down you knew you should have just had your date pick you up from the jump; your car being a piece of shit had been a secret to absolutely no one. Just three weeks ago, the damn thing died on you in the parking lot on your way home from work. However, you've had one too many experiences with being trapped at someone's place without a vehicle to know it's best to be your own ride home.

Or that would normally be the case.

Honestly you wished you'd just Ubered now that you're outside, stranded on some empty road too far from town to walk but just far out enough to be an inconvenient for anyone willing to come get you, in the dead of night at that. But at least it had stopped raining.

Its residue still remains on the dark roads. You knew you had been out far in the boonies just from the lack of streetlights, seeing how pitch black your surroundings had been. It almost felt like a wall of sorts, some sort of abyss, boxing you in. It makes you feel like you're being watched (even though you're absolutely not).

Still, it motivates you to step back into your car, settling into your driver's seat with a frustrated huff.

By now, the remainder of the car's heat had been zapped out, all its interior lights completely dead. Some false sense of hope drives you to try and twist your key in the ignition once more, only to have your dreams retroactively crushed once you see the key completely stuck in its hole, just as it had been for the past forty minutes now.

It brings you to check your messages another time. You'd all but gone through your contact list trying to find someone that could come get you; that tends to happen when it's 1am.

You called your date first, seeing as he would be the closest to you and it hadn't been like you'd left on bad terms.

One month, now that you think about it. You hadn't noticed the time flying by, though it's not to say your time together had been anything remarkable. Just a change to your usual FWB and one-night stand order. He liked taking you out on nice dates and you liked going back to his place to fuck, and seeing he wasn't insufferable, it worked, for now.

However, his ringer had gone straight to voicemail when you called. At first you questioned why that could have been, but then you'd remembered him mentioning his phone being on the verge of death in the midst of the movie you'd been "watching". It crossed him out all the same.

Soap and Price were some of the least reliable men to reach at night, though it had only been because they valued their sleep, and did so like professionals. You weren't surprised in the slightest when they hadn't picked up.

You didn't even bother calling Gaz; the man didn't have a car. And every other one of your friends was either too far away for it to be worth the drive or just unavailable. By the time you'd called the last name listed on your lifeline and it didn't pick up, the hopelessness started to bubble up again.

But then you remembered one other person you could call, someone you're sure wouldn't even bother... if he even picks up.

Ghost.

The phone sits in your hand, purposefully procrastinating, as your eyes toiled on his contact name on your phone. Reluctant.

There's really no way he would pick up; he'd all but made it clear to you that he'd rather do without your being around him as is. What makes you think he'd want to get out of bed in the middle of the night for you?

And yet, your gaze lingered on his number.

Who else was there, if not him?

You slowly dial in his number, nausea swirling in your stomach at each press, until you've heard the phone begun to ring.

You place the cool glass to your face, listening to the other line ring, awaiting to hear that familiar automotive voice message system of his.

However, the air catches in your throat when you've actually heard the other line pick up, sounds of covers shifting and a man's heavy sigh filling in this period of silence that's gone on far too long for you.

"You do realize what time it is, don't you?"

You roll your eyes, sinking back into your seat as you settled in for this conversation. Welp, you called him, and here he is. Time to deal with that.

"I had no idea," you say sarcastically.

"Should probably buy a watch then," he teases.

"You offering?"

"No."

You can't help but do anything else other than smack your lips together in response. "I'll just keep doin' me then, boo," you say.

"A shock to no one, I imagine." You hear Ghost groan gruffly on the other end, clearly having been in bed. "So what then? Your date end poorly or somethin'?"

While he had been making a jab at you, his words were more revealing than he realized. Clearly, he'd still been thinking about you, despite wanting to act like you'd been the one bothering him right now.

It makes you giggle under your breath, though you're loud enough for him to hear. "It went great actually," you say. "He really knows how to wine and dine a girl down."

"No doubt letting a man actually treat you like a woman for a change is a new experience for you," Ghost remarks.

"Guess it just took finding the right guy for the job," you remark back. "He's got you on a run for your money, Manchester."

The right guy, meaning anyone but Ghost, he'd imagined. Not in any tangible way beyond whatever lust-filled mistakes you two continuously shared between each other.

Ghost pauses for a moment. You know your comment had gotten to him somewhat. Though he spares little time for you to rejoice in it.

"He can have it," he says coldly. "We're done, remember?"

You're not sure why, but hearing him say that to you yet again -- with not a heartbeat to spare, it only seemed to make your own heart run a bit colder.

Ghost only continues, his patience having run thin since talking. "Why are you calling?"

You hesitate to speak at first, your pride already having been bruised just having to call him to begin with. You sigh lightly to yourself, regaining your composure and cutting right to the chase. After all, what reason was there to be nervous? This was only Manchester.

"I need your help," you say plainly. "My car broke down and I'm in the middle of nowhere. I tried calling literally anyone else... but you're the only one who's actually answered. So... look, if you don't want to, just tell me now so I can call someone else, alright?"

Silence.

You have to look down at your phone to see if the man had hung up on you suddenly; it wouldn't have surprised you. But no, he'd still been on the other line, merely existing with his tightly shut lips.

After some more seconds have gone by, you've found the silence has driven you mad.

"Look, just forget-"

"Where are you now?"

That's not what you were expecting to hear. His words stop you dead in your tracks, your heart beginning to race once you finally had a plan in motion.

You sit up in your seat, already typing in Ghost's address into your Google Maps so you could get a good estimate of how long you'd be waiting. You wanted to cry when you saw the double digits, and nearly did when you read that 27 minute drive time.

You hum to yourself, trying not to sound too disappointed as you spoke.

"Well..." You sigh. "...It's not close."

"How far are we talking?"

What is he doing right now? He's been asking himself that questions since he tied the laces to his boots and slipped into his hoodie on the way out the door. He must look like a fool right now, he's sure.

Seven miles out had been how far you were from his place. Evidently, by the 4th mile out, Ghost had started to grow somewhat ticked off (seeing as it was now almost 2 am), but alas, he'd already been in his car and this far out, so there was no point in complaining about it now. Though he still couldn't believe he was doing it.

The night air feels good rushing through his open window. The icy wind scraps by him, leaving his pale cheeks a rosier pink, his short blond hair thrown about, and his knuckles a cold white, with the speeding swishing sounds of his car rushing down this long, empty road.

Ghost brought his balaclava with him (he had an extra one tucked away in his glove box), knowing he'll have to put it on once he's picked you up. Until then, however, he'd enjoy the freeing sensation of the wind against his skin, as it's the only thing reminding him that he is in fact driving to come get you right now and not just dreaming this.

He knew the smart thing would have been to say no. Ghost didn't trust himself almost as much as he didn't trust you not to try and escalate something out of this situation. That's how things always happen between you two after all. And yet... here he is on the road now. He'd ask himself what that was about, but he knew himself well enough.

Your car starts to come into view of his headlights on the side of the road, as Ghost has felt walls in him begin to form themselves, preparing for your presence.

He pulls his car behind you, quickly digging in his glove box and retrieving his balaclava before exiting the vehicle. It may be dark, but even then, he wasn't about to let you see him exposed so soon. Not like this, anyhow.

"There you are!" You step out of the car, dramatically swinging your arms out before slamming your door shut behind you. "You take the scenic route?"

"And I got gas," he adds.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms as a cool breeze brisks by. "Of course you did."

Ghost looks you up and down unabashedly, seeing the attire you'd chosen to wear for your date tonight -- some outfit that wasn't too skimpy, but still left a lot for a man to crave more for. He can only imagine how much your date must have enjoyed himself with you tonight... it's started to make his chest tight just thinking about it.

"I didn't want to call you," you say all of a sudden. However, when you've seen the look he gives you after hearing that, it makes you soften up somewhat. It had sounded rather harsh out loud, didn't it? So you then sigh, "I wasn't sure you were gonna answer..."

Ghost sighs, the man simmering down now having seen you become more lax. Though he doesn't say anything. He wasn't quite sure what to say, because he would have answered if you called him. He did. Yet, admitting so out loud would make that something more real than what he was willing to admit. So he stays quiet.

You do your best to bring things back to ground level between you two. However, whether it be because you'd meant to do so, or just did not care for the weight of your words, you go on with your small tangent.

"I called Soap first," you say. "Then I tried Price after that."

"Ah," Ghost says dryly. "I'm well aware that I'm the afterthought."

"Maybe so, but... I called you still, didn't I?"

"And I still came," Ghost says.

You've paused for a moment, and your voice is softer than any tone he's heard from you before. It puts him on edge and makes his heart feel caught in his throat.

"Yeah, well..." You say. "Thank you."

Funny. He's never actually heard you say thank you to him before, and it's got him more giddy than he thought he would be.

"Don't worry about it." He approaches your vehicle now, taking a closer look. "So what's wrong with it?"

"I don't fucking know," you sigh frustratedly. "I've already taken the damn thing in for repairs three fucking times already and it still keeps doing this. I'm just sick of this fucking thing at this point-"

You kick your tire out of frustration, only to have the tips of your toes connect roughly with stiff, cold, rubber, your foot doing nothing to even make a bulge to it on impact. Immediately you yelp, though you tone it down, so as not to embarrass yourself in front of the lieutenant. No doubt he was in need of some more material to use against you at work later.

Of course, he can see that you're frustrated by the situation, and rightfully so, he thought. He never liked having car problems himself.

"Need me to jump it then?" he asks.

"You can try."

And try he does. The man's come prepared, having cables already packed away in his trunk for situations like this, having been here before. You step to the side and let him contend with things, assisting wherever needed, and sharing no other words beyond trying to fix the situation.

Once the cables were all attached to the batteries and his car was running, it didn't take long for the silence between you two to become defeaning.

You both stood leaning against your cars, staring off into the surrounding woods. Lost in separate thoughts that somehow always led you back to one another.

You kept looking over at him, taking quick glances with your peripherals. He kept his gaze ahead, not having wanted to look at you too much. Each time he did, he felt something stir in him that he hadn't wanted.

But for the first time in maybe ever between you two, it's Ghost who breaks silence before you.

"Have you thought about Friday?"

Naturally, it would be about work.

The word Friday brings a reaction out of you, reminding you of things you didn't yet wish to think about. This Friday. The day you and Ghost will be sent out on a month-long assignment together. Alone...

It wasn't like you two haven't fought together before; often times the others thought you made a great duo, in fact. Combatively, that is. If it wasn't his swift and collected movements on the battlefield, then it was your own cunning creativity which often gave the team the edge they needed.

As a whole team, it was easy to work with him -- you couldn't bicker if there were a million different things to pull your attention. But you wouldn't be with the team this time. It would just be the two of you now, a feet which had NEVER been done before.

You sigh again, hugging your arms to yourself to keep warmth.

"Don't really want to think about it, if I'm being honest."

"Will you be ready?" He asks.

"I'm always ready, Manchester," you jest. "What about you? Are you ready to be stuck with me for a month?"

Dryly, Ghost says, "I'm jumpin' for joy just thinkin' about it."

You chuckle at his comment, which surprises him, for some reason. Normally, your low giggles felt weighted with teasing mockery. However, the lilt to your voice now had been something more... welcoming.

And seemingly, you've noticed it's made Ghost somewhat more chatty than usual, given his silence earlier.

"So your date..." he unintentionally lets his words begin to drag. "You said it went well earlier?" He now asks, no longer caring how the question might come off to you. A simple answer would only suffice.

However, he already knows he can't ask questions like that without bringing the she-devil out in you.

"Mmm," you hum. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Ghost groans. "Forget it."

You're silent for a moment, and it makes Ghost think the end of that conversation. Though, you spend the time thinking, weighing between talking or silence.

"My date went fine," you say to him. "We didn't really do much. Nothing worth talking about anyway."

Ghost crosses his arms now, looking down at his feet rather bashfully, kicking a small pebble that had been rested at his boot.

"So do you like him?"

"He's alright," you say. "He's real sweet. Super understanding; I've never met such an open-minded guy before. Except for Soap maybe..."

You unknowingly begin to go on about this mystery man from before, describing him in delightful detail, all of which seemed to contrast with Ghost.

"I've never had a guy do that for me before." You said more than once, and Ghost was sure it had been true. After all, he hasn't necessarily been kind to you to begin with. Hearing now the differences it would have made only made him wonder of the what if's.

By the end of your small tangent, he'd felt your point had been made clear enough. But then you end everything you've just gone on about -- the compliments, the ups, and highs -- with a final comment.

"...Though... I don't see this lasting long."

He can't deny, that had actually excited him to hear, even as it doesn't make sense to him. Though he covers it under his usual, husky voice he wielded so dangerously. "Why's that?"

You look like you want to tell him the truth. You almost do, but it hadn't been a matter of pettiness as to why you don't quite answer the man. You instead shrug, keeping this nonchalant attitude you desperately wanted him to see you for.

"I don't know," you say. "He's kinda boring."

Ghost chuckles. "Boring?"

"He's just a bit too... simple for me? It's hard to explain."

"Not toxic enough for you, you mean?"

You laugh under your breath, having found some humor in his jab. "Maybe," you admit, sarcastically so. "Maybe I need a little screaming and petty arguments in my life. It just makes everything feel so much more... passionate."

Ghost just shakes his head. "You say that now."

You begin to smirk. "I don't know," you turn to look at him. "You must like that stuff too, Manchester."

"I don't," he says.

"Bullshit," you laugh. "Admit it, you eat this toxic shit up."

"You're wrong," he says. "I loathe it. It's unbecoming."

"If that's how you feel, then what were you doing fucking around with me then?"

It's a valid question, one that makes the man grow silent. What had it been about you that often turned him from his better judgment? It couldn't have just been the sex. No. Otherwise, it wouldn't burden him so much to know you thought of other men so much more highly than him, half of which being of his own doing.

Unsure of how to answer you, the man simply says to you, "I don't know."

The silence comes quickly, but it is felt by you both. Had another car not driven by to break this sudden trance, perhaps this conversation would have gone further. You both wondered as such, even as you wouldn't say so out loud. But it's the longest you've spoken without insulting each other. That significance would not be lost.

Eventually, your car managed to turn on, its dim lights twitching back to life amidst the night. Having not wanted to be put in a situation where he'd have to turn around, Ghost volunteered to follow you back home in his car. That way, if you broke down on the road again he could at least drive you back home himself.

You had been more than grateful enough to thank him again once your car had been running, smiling in ways you've not done toward him before in the past. In those moments, it had been easy to forget about all of that, having felt himself smile back beneath his mask, from time to time.

The drive back to your place is a short one, the roads having been empty, given how late it was. Ghost follows you to your driveway, watching you park at a small, one-story home you'd recently gotten on post. He remembers his way here without your guidance, having come here on his own so many times now. He'd even picked out a spot in your driveway he liked to pull into -- that same spot beneath the tall tree in your front yard.

Now that you were home, Ghost remained in his car, prepared to see you wave him goodbye before pulling out. However, you do no such thing, instead exiting your vehicle, and approaching his window.

He rolls it down, giving you a curious look. "Something the matter?"

"Wanna come in for a quick smoke?"

No, he thought. He should say no. He already told you he was putting an end here to this. An end to this toxic game of back-and-forth romance. What kind of man would he be if he could not keep his word with something as simple as this?

He would only be a man, and a human one at that.

Ghost has already stepped out of his car and followed you over to the entrance of your home. And just as he expected -- as he had feared and wanted -- once inside, having heard the front door shut behind him and the faint sensation of your body brush by towards your living room, he knew this wouldn't just be a quick smoke.

It started out with the two of you on your couch. The minute he sat down he felt the late hours start to hit him like a tidal wave, his eyes having grown droopy and tired. You looked the same, your movements having slowed since arriving home. Though it hadn't made you any less chatty.

In between grabbing a lighter and a pack of smokes for you two (a transaction that took you five minutes to do), you both gossiped about work. Ghost always knew you were a scandalous sort, however, it had shocked you seeing how willing the lieutenant had been to participate in the conversation. He had a lot more to say than you would have thought, in fact.

Once the cigarettes were lit, things only grew more random, Ghost feeling the urge to ask you the oddest hypotheticals he could think of off the top of his head. He had been serious when asking too, judging your answers, and providing his own afterward.

And while you two couldn't put it into words, at the moment, this had felt good to have.

You sink back into the couch, having finished your cigarette, and felt that final headrush. You enjoy it. You enjoy this.

You look to the left of you to see Ghost, his large body having sunken the couch down so much that your legs couldn't help but rest against his boulderous thighs. His mask is lifted, and his scarred lips finish off his cigarette. He blows the smoke out in front of him, as his eyes stay forward. And all the while, his body has felt every bit of your presence near him.

"Why don't we ever do this?" you ask suddenly.

Ghost looks your way, finding your eyes. "Do what?" He asks, his voice a low and raspy thing, vibrating through your whole body.

"This," you gesture around you. "Actually sit down and talk like this."

"You're not usually the best company," he says.

You pout. "Have you been around "you" before, Manchester?"

"I know the bloke pretty well, actually," Ghost jokes.

You scoff, a smile curving on your lips. "Then you know that he's an asshole a lot of the time."

"I do know that," he admits.

His honesty catches you off guard. You had been prepared to say something witty back too. Now it wouldn't work quite as well, his response spinning your mind in a curious way.

Ghost speaks before you, having been digesting this conversation in full himself. "To answer your question," he says. "I saw no point in trying to talk to you like this. You didn't like me. That much had been made clear, so I didn't bother. "

"So... you didn't wanna talk to me or be my friend," you say. "Yet you'll fuck me. That checks out."

Now you catch him off guard with that comment, watching his jaw tighten. It does so even more when he sees the little laugh you let out in response after.

"I'd doubt we'd make good friends anyway," you sigh.

"What makes you say that?" Ghost asks.

"It just wouldn't work," you say, and then start to grin. "We'd just keep wanting to fuck each other, I feel like. That or kill each other, whatever comes first."

"Wha', you can't fuck your friends?" Ghost jokes, feeling parts of himself bubble joyously when he sees you laugh.

"Not if you want to stay friends."

And there it was that Ghost almost felt the words leave his lips, the question and the answer. Who said you two had to stay as friends? Who says this has to stay as anything?

"Well..." he thinks to himself, looking down at his lap, as he lets his callous thumbs rub softly over his rough palms. He's now noticed your legs resting against his thigh, and how close you've been this entire time, your body heat having felt as cozy as a blanket to sit beside. "We haven't fucked tonight."

You smirk. "We haven't been at each other's throats all night, either," you lightly cheer. "A new record."

"This make us friends then?"

Ghost notices your leg shift, as you invite them to rest on his lap, his arms having nowhere else to lie but on top of them. Having them hugged so close to him, feeling your calves shift over his crotch (purposefully he's sure), quickly started to fog his mind of any previous thoughts he now had.

You watch his gaze follow your legs, traveling up slowly, making their way up your torso, past your chest and to your neck, then stopping on your lips, which you've licked into a playful smile. His dark eyes finally find yours, and he sees that familiar look in them. The look of trouble.

"I can't be your friend, Manchester."

"Why?" he asks again, his voice low, humming through you and making your body ache for him.

"I already told you why," you say cooly. "I want to fuck you too much to be your friend, Simon."

"Well, I already told you we can't."

"Then what's your hand doing?"

Indeed, this whole time you've let his voice soothe you, words be damned, you've felt his large hands slowly slide their way up your thigh, fingers grazing you roughly, craving to feel the flesh of you beneath your clothes.

His hand pauses at the brink of your hip, his body having leaned in more since doing so. It's pressed you more against the couch, your body slowly being caged by him.

Despite his actions, his eyes look at you with frustration, a million thoughts running through him. You were driving him mad, and he couldn't get enough of it.

You merely watch his eyes drop back down to your lips, and you smile. You lift your hand up, bringing it to his collar and letting your finger hook beneath the fabric. Your smile widens as you've felt his throat swallow against the gentle graze of your finger, his mask still having been lifted up to his nose, and his breath tickling your skin. You slowly pull him closer.

He doesn't even resist, his body moving along to your guiding hand, until his face had only been an inch or so from you, his eyes half-lidded and lost.

Despite the confidence you let off, your heart raced furiously in your chest. This hadn't felt anything like your times before, where the banter had been short, seeing as the real reasons for it were often carried out in swift succession. This had felt slow. Intimate. You had his mouth so close to you, and it kept buzzing in your mind, the whole thing that had him not wanting to do this from the start. The reason for this reluctancy. Some jealousy and measly lipstick.

"Kiss me," you say.

You swear you can hear his heart beating through his chest, watching the gears shift in his head and feeling the bulge in his pants start to brush against your leg. Rather than let him come to his own conclusion, you do the thinking for him, pulling him down by the collar and guiding his mouth to yours.

The second your lips touch his, it's as though no other actions mattered to him beyond having all of you right here and now.

Ghost kisses you roughly, letting his hands cup over your face and his body completely cover you, arms caging you in like a prison. The weight of his body takes your breath away, making you gasp into his mouth, as you've felt him grind himself against you. By now, his cock was already resting painfully so in his jeans, and you've felt him take that pain out with each gruff thrust he made against you. The second your lips have parted, his tongue has entered in, massaging itself against yours as though to have the complete taste of you with him.

As his lips did their absolute best lapping away at your mouth, the lower half of himself humped between your legs furiously, parting them at every motion and leaving you throbbing from each brief departure. You can't help but do anything other than hug your arms over him, hugging him close and letting your lips keep pace with him.

His body feels every bit of your hands run against his chest, hooking around his neck and lacing beneath his mask to feel his hair. Your legs hook around his waist naturally, hips jirating against his just as ravenously, as though you'd been craving him all day. The smallest of movements you make send him deeper into a passionate frenzy, turning the man near primal.

You wanted every bit of him right now just as much as he had wanted every part of you -- it had the man completely drunk in you. Large hands cupped so firmly over your cheeks as he kissed you that you felt consumed by him, neither of you having spared a breath away. His hands slide down your neck, making their way to your breast and aggressively groping them, reminding himself of the parts of you that you allowed him to misbehave himself with. The parts of yourself that would always be his.

He thumbs your nipples through your shirt, letting his fingers roll against them, and feeling your chest rise with each moan that it conjures. Your lips part again, your voice like ecstasy to him. He'd stay like this forever if he could. That's truly how he felt at this moment.

After a while, he couldn't keep himself from slipping his hand beneath your shirt, finally feeling the warmth of your body against his skin, before retaking your breast in your hand to continue his work.

By now you've kissed each other raw, your dry-humping having grown vigorous and hot in nature; the room filled with your heavy panting and his low grunts. Ghost's hips viciously pulsate against you, the bulge of his cock bumping in just the right amount of friction against your clit to the point that you hadn't even needed to feel him inside you to feel yourself soaking through your pants. Having felt it only made him press harder against you, as the man made an equal mess of himself.

It had felt difficult casting you aside with you so ready to have him every time you've graced his presence. Ghost knows he was making a mistake, letting you play with his emotions, but good God did you make him feel good when you wanted him to. You drip-feed him that lustful attention you give away so carelessly, and Ghost took each drop with begrudging starvation.

Your hands continue to curve behind his neck, your fingers teetering at the edges of his masks and keeping him pulled in. They touch the most sensitive parts of the skin behind his ears, parts of him that haven't been touched by anyone in years. Your fingers continue to slowly glide their way up, gently pushing his mask up more and more.

Almost as though to distract you from continuing with that action, his hands shoot down to your pants, as he's no longer able to hold himself back from you. He pries them from you, throwing both that and your panties to the floor, before lowering his own jeans down.

His massive length rested against your pussy heavy, almost like a veiny leg of its own, the man rubbing and smacking himself against you to his heart's content, groaning gruffly to himself each time. He grabs onto your legs, hooking them over your arms and letting your feet rest over his shoulders, as he pushes your knees back to your ears, preparing your body for a vicious pounding.

With no hesitation, once he's settled his body over you, he drives his cock in, his girth stretching you uncomfortably as he pushes himself so deep that he's felt his balls smack against you. The second he's felt you clench around him, your legs tightening over his body, and your lips parting with a sharp hiccup-like gasp, he lets himself go into his favorite mind-numbing pace with you.

Ghost fucks you into the couch, his cock smacking in and out of you with barely a second reprieve. Each time you've felt he might slow down, he only goes faster, making sure to hear the visceral sounds which left your cunt at each thrust, squeezing an orgasm from you that he's felt shake your entire body against him.

Yet feeling your orgasm hadn't been enough, it would never be enough. He kept the pace going even after, wanting to feel every breath that left you be wrapped in him, and every thump of your heart against his chest be because of him.

Through the sheer mayhem, he put both your body and mind in right now, you bring your hands back up to his face, returning his gaze to you. With your eyes locked, you can make out every detail, every feeling you each had harbored, both the good and the bad. He would have all of you, and you would have all of him.

"I don't want this to stop, Simon," you pant out.

Ghost finds himself at a loss for words, having replied to you in his head, and carried it out through action instead. He brings his lips down to you, kissing you once again, and making sure that you could feel every part of his reply through the taste of him.

His arms hug across you tightly, the quick and brutal rhythm he had growing erratic and desperate. He groans against your lips as he's cum in you, feeling himself pulsate against the deepest parts of you.

Ghost doesn't move from on top of you, having buried his face in the crook of your neck and wrapped his arms over you. You lie beneath him, your own arms wrapped lazily over him, hugging him against you like a weighted blanket, simply holding his heaving body to your own. You rest your cheek against the crown of his head, your eyes looking up to your ceiling as you've both now felt the dreariness of the night finally hit you.

You both pant, out of breath, now left with the uncertainty of what would be tomorrow. For once, you don't say anything to break the silence. You just let him lay there, and you do too. It would be morning soon enough.

Read Part Six Here!

My goal here is to start turning a toxic relationship into a maybe not so toxic relationship. It's gotta start somewhere. I just want to write about flawed individuals (it's nice feeling seen lol). But, I hope the dialogue worked, I really liked it. But anywho, that's it with my rambling.

@deadbranch @homicidal-slvt @argella1300 @poohkie90 @sarraa-26 @quincessimus @cabreezer0117 @glitterypirateduck @0-444-4444 @crazymela @13thprogenitor

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged/untagged for the next part! If I'm not told, I won't tag because I feel like an instigator! Thank you, uwu

#ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #call of duty #modern warfare ii #call of duty modern warfare ii #mwii #mw2022 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #ghost simon riley #no good men left to spare #ghost mwii #ghost mw2 #Spotify

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lynzishell · 2 months

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what kind of love are you

💖TYSM for the tag @sirianasims💖

✨Phoenix✨

Love as a Choice You choose to love. Love does not come to you easily, but every day you wake up and choose it. It would be so easy, wouldn't it, to grow cold and callous and grim. But you rise to greet the world, making the conscious effort to find something, anything to love. When you fall for someone, you do not kid yourself of their flaws. Instead, you resolve to see them for who they are, mistakes and all and you love them all the same. Your love is work, and it does not come easy. Your love sweats and toils. It is calloused and sunburned; it bears scars and comes with stories. Your love is worn, but it is no less valuable for it. Being loved by you is like being loved by a gardener, a mother, a teacher. Your love may not always be the simplest, but it is worth the effort.

✨Dawn✨

Love as Youth Your love is buoyant. Your love is bountiful. It is ageless, and it will never age. When you fall in love, it is breathless. It is joyful and endless, it is magnificent. You think it, like your youth , will last forever. Youth is eternal, and so is your love. Your love skips rocks and tells stories, your love roasts marshmallows over fires, and laughs freely. Your love does not take itself too seriously. Your love is jumping into puddles just to watch the water splash, and dancing in the rain, and it is watching Sunday morning reruns of cartoons to feel young once more. Your love is forever, forever young. Being loved by you is to be loved by the summer months. And those never end, do they? Well, I won’t tell if you don’t.

This was so fun, and I'm shocked at how accurate they are!!

I'm going to tag: @igotsnothing, @beebeesiims, @zosa95, @honeyjars-sims, @bakersimmer and anyone else that wants to give it a try!! 🫶🏻

#curious if you guys think these are as accurate as i do lol #i'll share atlas and asher's results tomorrow #tag game #oc tag game #aries outtakes #phoenix extras #dawn extras

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flovoid · 2 months

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What kind of love are you?

Love as Youth

Your love is buoyant. Your love is bountiful. It is ageless, and it will never age. When you fall in love, it is breathless. It is joyful and endless, it is magnificent. You think it, like your youth , will last forever. Youth is eternal, and so is your love. Your love skips rocks and tells stories, your love roasts marshmallows over fires, and laughs freely. Your love does not take itself too seriously. Your love is jumping into puddles just to watch the water splash, and dancing in the rain, and it is watching Sunday morning reruns of cartoons to feel young once more. Your love is forever, forever young. Being loved by you is to be loved by the summer months. And those never end, do they? Well, I won’t tell if you don’t.

Love as a Choice

You choose to love. Love does not come to you easily, but every day you wake up and choose it. It would be so easy, wouldn't it, to grow cold and callous and grim. But you rise to greet the world, making the conscious effort to find something, anything to love. When you fall for someone, you do not kid yourself of their flaws. Instead, you resolve to see them for who they are, mistakes and all and you love them all the same. Your love is work, and it does not come easy. Your love sweats and toils. It is calloused and sunburned; it bears scars and comes with stories. Your love is worn, but it is no less valuable for it. Being loved by you is like being loved by a gardener, a mother, a teacher. Your love may not always be the simplest, but it is worth the effort.

AAAA THANK YOU @roos-bowl-o-soup for the tag!!!

also tagging @elderwisp @elksun @circusjuney @buttertrait @nikatyler @ninawhims @autumnserenade @machinegrl @acuar-io

& anyone who wanna do it go do it! also if you are tagged and don’t feel doing it just ignore this!

#floyd cyprus #draco almond #omg I actually cried.#the results of them both is so on point.#this quiz is everything they even gave me more more inspiration #I also cried at draco how he actually did love someone but they didn’t love him back. so him can’t choose who to love is harsh-#AND ITS SO TRUE how if anyone was loved by floyd is just sooo refreshing he literally will make you happy and youthful forever #the fact it said on draco that love does not come to him easily is so true… hurts.#(When you fall for someone you do not kid yourself of their flaws. Instead you resolve to see them for who they are) I ACTUALLY CRIED.#a detective who fell for a criminal no? LOSING MY MIND.#floyd facts #draco facts

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bakersimmer · 2 months

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What kind of love are you?

Thanks for tagging me, @sirianasims 💛 & @beachyserasims 🤗

Laila - Love as a Flaw

Cowering, your love hides in the dark. In shadows and under cover of night, your love runs from corner to corner, afraid to linger, afraid to be caught. Afraid, afraid, afraid of everything. When you fall in love, it is with alarm bells ringing. Your love is a mistake, a flaw in the code, a purchase you don’t remember making and desperately want to return. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t want this. It’s a problem–– your problem ––and you would do anything to pass it off, burn it away, scoop it out of you with bare hands, or carved out with hooked knives before it can destroy you. Get it out, just get it out now. You don’t care who you hurt in the process, only that you can’t afford to be hurt first. Being loved by you is to be loved by a figment of the imagination. It is to be loved in halves, or not at all.

Laila isn't that dramatic, but close 🤔

Martin - Love as Youth

Your love is buoyant. Your love is bountiful. It is ageless, and it will never age. When you fall in love, it is breathless. It is joyful and endless, it is magnificent. You think it, like your youth, will last forever. Youth is eternal, and so is your love. Your love skips rocks and tells stories, your love roasts marshmallows over fires, and laughs freely. Your love does not take itself too seriously. Your love is jumping into puddles just to watch the water splash, and dancing in the rain, and it is watching Sunday morning reruns of cartoons to feel young once more. Your love is forever, forever young. Being loved by you is to be loved by the summer months. And those never end, do they? Well, I won’t tell if you don’t.

Yep. "It is joyful and endless, it is magnificent."

I'll tag (feel free to ignore) @zosa95 @swallowprettybird @bunnithechubs @someone-elsa @aleksa-sims

#MartinsESC #Martin Archer #Laila Mellov #tag

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vestaclinicpod · 9 months

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Audio Drama Sunday - 6th August ✨

Hello, August, and happy #AudioDramaSunday! My ears have been well looked after this week!

SPOILERS!!

🌲@hellofromthehallowoods (128) My toxic trait is that I am an absolute SUCKER for a story with mother-child conflict. Percy’s life is (was?) so horrific on so many levels, if anyone deserves a Dogsmell cuddle, it’s Percy. Also, can we talk about how the line ‘Diggory, for all their love, was one more obsession unto destruction’ just opened up my chest like a clamshell to better stab me in the heart? I feel like Zelda needs to go on some kind of watch, she’s a law unto herself and I worry what will happen when her luck and tenacity reach their limit!! I love that Walt’s house is still being used as a sanctuary for those who need it.

It’s one thing to haunt the narrative, it’s another to leave a legacy of kindness which blooms eternally. 🖤🗡

🧛‍♂️ A GREAT week of @re-dracula!! Updates from Mina are a tonic for the soul, and updates from the Demeter are . . . well, excellent in their own way. Alasdair Stuart has been amazing in this role! I listened to the sea shanty while cycling in the rain and it created such a mood. Yes, I was being splashed by puddle water, but, hey, at least I wasn’t on the Demeter!

🧬 Regina Prime (5) Another stunning episode of Regina Prime has left me with even more questions than answers! We’ve been given a glimpse of the vitriol Omega harbours for Regina Prime and some idea of what she’ll do to achieve her goal. It’s . . . intense.

💫 Wolf 359 (33-37) GOD this show!!! I was initially a little sceptical over why this show was still so many people’s favourite, even years after it was released, but I totally understand. These characters are perfectly flawed and I’m hooked on all the mysteries! Also - the EIFFEL LORE. I need to know! What?! What happened?!!?

🎩 @ethicstownpod (6) Nothing is going well in Ethics . . . this podcast really worms into my brain and makes me think about it all day. I’m also camp ‘try to fix this mess in case it makes it makes it better for someone somewhere’. Come on, January, there are some brains in jars that need you to work it out!!

🥾@doyoucopypod (4) Horror tropes! Come and get your horror tropes!! I felt a little evil, but this ep made me grin so much. Every time they tried something new to help leave the Dead Zone, it just so obviously wasn’t going to work! Besties, put that map away, you don’t even know how to read it!!

I have a week off next week and I can’t wait to fill it with lots of listening! There’s new @malevolentcast to enjoy, we’re out of the @nightvaleradio hiatus, and I still need to find out what the deal is with Angela in Tiny Terrors! Hope everyone has a lovely weekend!

#audio drama #podcast #podcast recs #audio fiction #audio drama sunday #audiodramasunday #audiodrama #hfth spoilers #hello from the hallowoods #regina prime #re dracula #ethics town #do you copy #wolf 359 #w359 #malevolent #tiny terrors #welcome to night vale #wtnv

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nekrophoria · 2 months

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What Kind of Love are you

Thank you for tagging me @drawing-way-outside-the-lines 💙💙💙

Mel

Love as a Flaw

More characters under the cut cuz I couldn't contain myself xD

Lyall

Love as a Choice

Serena

Love as Youth

Roland

Love as a Threshold

Your love does not ask for much. Your love does not take. Your love is free, and unquestioned, and here for wherever needs it. When you fall in love, it is as gentle as a breath in the night. It is quiet, and it is effortless. It is tender. If your love was a house, it would readily welcome all who come through. If your love was a hearth, it would warm the hands of whoever stopped by, whether for a day, a month, a year, or forever. When you fall for someone, it is without strings, without conditions, without need. You love for the sake of loving, for the sake of caring for those who need it. You love with a giver’s heart and a giver’s hands and are made so much stronger for it. Being loved by you is to always feel at home. Your love may not always be well-received by those unprepared to linger, but it is unforgettable all the same.

Simon

Love as a Force of Nature

Your love is like whiplash –– it comes in with the rain, it blows the doors wide open. When you fall in love, it is sudden and hard and immense. It is powerful. It is earth-shaking and world-ending. Nature is a force, and that force can be destructive if you're not careful. See how the world is doused in gasoline and set on fire –– your love consumes, your love takes, your love burns. You're hot and cold all at once, a hurricane and a wildfire bound together in skin, and when you're in love, it can feel like it's eating you alive from the inside out. When you love, it is with everything you have because it is everything you have. Be careful, darling, because not everyone survives the storm.

Just realised I forgot to tag people...tagging @wolfavens @nocturnalazure @rebouks and @veone!

#Sims 3 #Ish #Tag game #Oc: Melvin Holloway #Oc: Serena Mason #Oc: Lyall #Oc: Roland Lynch #Oc: Simon Davis

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hammerhead-jpg · 1 year

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Kody's "pond rant" and what it means

I NEED to talk about the Kody park episode otherwise I will DIE

CW: discussions of mental health and suicidal thoughts

I used to think that Kody was a villain that was just evil for the sake of evil and was kind of poorly written, but since rewatching the park episode I changed my mind (I still think there's flaws with his writing but anyways)

I don't know if you remember but in the episode where Kody and Freelancer were at the park Kody had this whole rant about the park pond being dirty

At first I thought he was just being like "waaah waaah I'm a water elemental and I'm connected to dirty water how grossdd" and it was partially that but there was a deeper message.

I'll type out the whole rant so you can see:

"See that water? This city loves to tout that this park has a "gorgeous built-in water feature". It's a hole in the ground with a cheap, flimsy fountain in the middle of it. The pump gets so full of debris from the litter people throw into the water that it doesn't even pump half of the time. And it reeks. That's the glory of unprocessed unattended gray water at play. It might as well be sewage at this point. But it's water. It's the same stuff that courses through your body. That revitalizes you, keeps you clean, keeps your thirst slacked. It's the same thing that connects every scrap of land on this god forsaken planet. I can feel it. Not with my hands, nothing that trite. I can feel it. In my senses, in my core. My powers touch it, and it touches back. The water is disgusting, you can see the scum in it, the trash that has been thrown in it. I'd never swim in it and I'd certainly never drink it. But it's connected to me. Irrevocably, inescapably. That algae-ridden sewer water is a part of me. One that I can't sever myself from. All I can do is stare at it, wish someone would come clean it, or wish that it was just gone. Just fill the hole, start over. It'd be better for everyone, even if it was a loss. I hope you understand the gravity of what you did."

And if it weren't obvious enough, later:

"People look at me like they look at that scum-filled puddle."

If you still don't get it: Kody is basically making a metaphor.

He is the puddle. He's a bad person, but (in his mind) there's nothing he can do about it. He just wishes that someone would come and fix him, or just wishes he was simply, dead.

I first thought that this was simply the classic manipulation tactic of saying that you're gonna kys to make the victim feel bad and summit to you in the worries that you might actually do it but,

The thing is, everything that he's saying in this metaphorical rant goes against everything he's said before and after it

He is constantly saying that he's actually the victim, that he was just trying to help them and that everyone just pulled out their pitchforks and convinced them that he was in the wrong

But in this rant, he admits that he's a bad person and needs help.

And he usually doesn't speak in these metaphors for no reason.

It really seems like a silent confession, wether or not FL got it or just thought he just started ranting about about the dirty puddle for no reason, we don't know

He recognized that he's a bad person and needs help, but his idea of getting help is someone coming up to him with a magic wand and declaring "there! You're fixed! You can go out and live in society now!"

He doesn't recognize that the only person who can fix him is himself. Clearly when he got counselling but didn't seem to get any better, it's because he couldn't even admit out loud that he is the problem, he possibly even started believing his own lie.

He was a loner who couldn't get close to a person, so he sought after a person who was unknowledgeable and unaware of his doing. When that person eventually found out and he was pushed to a corner, he turned on the defensive and started gaslighting and manipulating like his life depended on it. Once that didn't work, he just went away to a new place where nobody knew he did anything wrong in the first place.

I always see people saying or implying that Kody didn't really get a deserving punishment for his actions, but I disagree

Because it's just going to keep happening to him.

Until he admits to his wrongs, he's just going to keep doing wrong things and then running away when he can't gaslight everyone around him.

Also he like, got completely decked by Damien in the inversion

I hope it's clear by my wording but I don't think that just because Kody has suicidal thoughts that suddenly means that he's absolved of all his wrong doings, he is very clearly supposed to be an antagonist, I'm just not the kind of person to quickly get rid of and stuff a character into a box before sending them flowing down the river just because they're a bad person and hurt my pwecious wittle babies

While there is some things about Kody's storyline that I didn't like I definitely see that he's a much deeper character than I first thought.

#redacted audio #redacted kody #redacted asmr #redactedaudio #redactedverse #deckkody

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bulletproofbanditsorbust · 1 month

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Bulletproof Bandits, chapter 1

Feb. 7th, 2023

Characters: oc!Russell Davon, oc!Dylan Harley

Word count: 1405

Warnings: Violence and gore

Summary: Russell is chased by a gang of mutants, until he gets backed into a corner. You’ll figure out how it goes :)

A/N: Guys. It’s happening.

Very, very, very special thanks to @arnold-layne for giving me tips and examples on how to write some of the action. We basically co-wrote the thing and I’m so so grateful to have you invested in this. If it wasn’t for you, Bulletproof Bandits wouldn’t even exist!! mwah love you <33333

Rhinestone City, or Hazardville, as its inhabitants would lovingly call it, stood out along the west coast of the State of New California. Its prides were the local species of overgrown twine - which was mostly harmless, if it wasn’t for the giant venus fly traps and thorns that grew up to a finger long -; the orange glow of the sky that would turn to blood red at the late dawns and early sunsets, with purple clouds looming over the urban landscape; and the corpse-eating fireflies, about five times bigger than the ones that you would usually see in the countryside during summer. The holes in the roads, filled with perfectly still murky water, would work as mirrors for the mutants that inhabited the town, or portals to the other dimension, if you looked too closely while high on the drugs sold at the black market. Despite its flaws, Hazardville was quite the charming place.

But Russell didn’t have the time to admire the butchered beauty of his town, because he was running at breakneck speed through its streets, splashing his stolen boots in the puddles and scratching his face and hands against the twine that grew conveniently at the height of his eyes, chased by a gang of armed-to-the-teeth raiders who really wanted him dead. His red hair a flame lighting up the unusual grayness of that day in Rhinestone City.

He expected to be followed by two of them, which was manageable, although they must’ve called reinforcements, since the pairs of heavy-duty boots seemed to have multiplied. He could discern two, maybe three more people behind him. Overall, there were five of them.

Five men thirsty for blood.

Russell's blood, specifically.

"Don't let him escape!"

A bullet flew by Russell’s cheekbone.

"Get the little bastard!"

Another gunshot.

"You son of a bitch, come back here!"

Usually, if the job had a risk this high, he’d just dump the package somewhere and go on his merry way, but this one was different. This one was a mission for Robin, the Death Baroness, or the Black Widow, depending on who you were asking, and Russell didn’t need another disappointment on his record from her. Plus, she promised good money (“And maybe something else”, according to her) and Russell needed it real bad at the moment.

The gangsters were shouting and cursing at him as he cut short into an alley. While he looked behind him, Russell met the wall with the side of his face and almost fell over.

Ouch.

Russell turned around, as two other men climbed down the nearby rooftops.

Now they were seven against one.

Shit. A trap.

Russell had a gun, too, but he had exactly three bullets. He had no choice but to pull out his pocket knife.

“Oh… little kitty got scared?” snickered who seemed to be the head of the group, in between wheezes. Half of his face was covered in red blisters, his pearly eyes bulging and most of his teeth had fallen out. Jesus, the radiation didn’t spare this one. It was a miracle he could talk at all.

“Tsk. Scared? Who’s scared?” Russell grinned, as he put his armed hand in front of him. A familiar tingle and warmth coming from his chest going through the blood in his veins began to fill Russell’s body. That warmth that he so so detested but only in the aftermath, always in the aftermath.

It’s you who should be scared.

The one covered in blisters advanced. “Come on. Give us the shit and no one will get hurt.”

“What? Uh… let’s see”, Russell searched his pockets with his free hand. “I got a couple crackers, though I’d think twice before eating them, a flask – empty, sadly, didn’t get to refill it… oh, and half a pack of cigarettes! You want one?”

“You talk a lot for someone who’s about to die!” laughed the other, coming closer.

“Stay back”, said Russell, slowly.

The raider ignored him and came even closer, pointing his gun at Russell’s head. “Give us the package or we’ll take it off your dead body.”

As menacing as he sounded, Russell could barely hear him, as the blood filled his ears and his vision. The voices were back, telling him to kill and maim and murder.

“You’ve made a grave mistake” His tone was grim and emotionless.

Bang-Bang-Bang-Scream.

“What the fuck, Junkhead, he was mine!” accused the one who had the boy at gunpoint.

“You guys were taking too long!” responded one of the gang members on the side of Russell.

“Don’t you fucking dare doing that again!” Roared the other.

While the two were arguing, Russell noticed he was shot twice, one bullet in his left shoulder, and one in his stomach. He noticed he was bleeding profusely, too.

The voices in his head grew more insistent.

Russell snapped.

Russell stabbed the man that held him hostage. A scream tore the air apart. Another stab in the throat. The screaming stopped. Panic ensued among the raiders. Someone shot, bullets fell on the concrete. One got caught by Russell, who gave it back to the sender with the same velocity it came with. Right in the middle of the eyes. “Bullseye!” hissed Russell in perverted joy.

Russell charged against three other men, swinging his knife left and right. One of them with two rusty machetes tried to sway his weapons in an attempt to hit the redhead. Duck – a strand of red hair glided to the ground. The head of the raider hit it faster, though. The other two tried to run. Little did they know, they were already de- and there they went, falling face down in the dirt.

Russell turned around. The last survivor was backed up in a corner, paralyzed in fear, looking at him, trembling.

Russell slowly walked towards him, his head inclined to the side, which made tufts of red hair fall back on his eyes. A demented smile made out of crooked teeth decorated his freckled face.

"So, Junkhead…" Russell hissed, coughing up blood. "Do you want to die too, or do you want to live to tell the tale?" He pointed the blade to the other's throat.

The man slowly raised his arms without losing eye contact. His long curls and beard couldn't hide the horrifying effects that the radiations had on him. "Y-you… you monster��"

Russell pressed the blade against his neck, licking his blood-covered lips. "Answer me, you coward. And don't move."

"Please… please just let me live…" The man yelped. "I have a family!"

Russell sniffed. All of a sudden he could feel the burn of the gunshot wounds. He let out a groan, grasping his stomach.

I need to find Dylan.

The man slowly made a step back, trying to escape Russell's knife, who promptly slit his throat with one last effort. The lifeless raider fell at Russell's feet.

"You stupid bitch…" Russell spat out a blood clot on the now dead mutant's face. "I told you not to move!"

The murderous instincts were starting to fade away, substituted by a sense of heaviness. All of a sudden, everything was less clear and the colors began to dissolve.

Russell held himself up against the wall, trying to walk, but could barely stand up.

Shit.

Everything hurt. The arms, the legs, the two bullets inside his stomach and shoulder.

The boy crawled out of the alley. His mouth filled with blood.

And collapsed.

"...sell… sell…"

A familiar voice.

"Russell… Russell! Wake up! Talk to me, Russ!"

The boy who was calling his name shook him.

Russell let out a scream of pain, eyes wide open. That's when he realized it was Dylan. His long black dreads were brushing Russell's face. All he could see was the bright red of his bandanna.

"Fuck! Dude, don't touch me there, that's where they shot me!"

Dylan's green eyes lit up. "Oh thank God you're alive…"

Russell groaned.

"Where were you, dude?!" Dylan kneeled, grabbed Russell's arm and wrapped it around his own shoulders. "I was looking for you!"

"Dude… You know I love you, but I don't need a babysitter."

"I beg to differ." Dylan objected, while he got up with Russell on his back.

"Then beg!"

"You are on the verge of death! I am literally carrying you!"

"Ugh… I would've been fine anyway." Russell mumbled.

"Where were you directed?"

"Uh… To your house."

Dylan sighed. "See?! It's good I found you. At least it's not that far from here. Let's go."

#thats right i am reposting the entire thing as well #im not saying that you should read it again but i have edited it a bit since i first posted it #a.#bulletproof bandits

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acidheaddd · 2 months

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what kind of love are you?

Tagged by @tau1tvec this time! Again, not a couple, but I picked two at random that I thought would be fun, so here's Ian and Sáile!

Love As Youth

Love As A Flaw

Ian's is spot on, I think. He tends to fall fast and hard, sometimes... a little too hard for some people. He is very devoted when he loves someone, but also still slightly guarded? There are some subjects he really doesn't like to talk about and will try to avoid, though if pressed enough, he'll crack. Ian's the epitome of class clown and so he kind of feels it's his job to make people happy and make them laugh above anything else. Why bring them down with the more serious aspects of himself and his life? This shows up a lot in his current relationship with Clover -- as he knows she's had a terribly traumatic upbringing and he never wants to bother her with his own problems or backstory. Her happiness is the only thing that matters to him.

As for Sáile... Yes and no? She is very afraid of love, that's true. But just like Ian, she loves hard and is very devoted. To a fault. The moment she feels she is becoming vulnerable, she wants to run away. Because that means giving up her independence to an extent. It means giving her love and energy to someone else that can potentially hurt her, and she doesn't believe she can trust very many people not to. Her husband, Alex, already has. She ran away from him the first time, hurting him in the process, and now that they are back together, married, and with two kids (one biologically his, the other not), he's ended up hurting her in his alcoholism, his judgmental...ness, and control issues. But she's already given herself up to him completely, she finds it difficult to pull away. It was hard enough for her to give in to her love for him... she really doesn't want it to be in vain. She still loves him.

#ts4 #sims 4 #the sims #ian knox #sáile castellano

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elksun · 2 months

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What Kind of Love are You?

Love as a Flaw Cowering, your love hides in the dark. In shadows and under cover of night, your love runs from corner to corner, afraid to linger, afraid to be caught. Afraid, afraid, afraid of everything. When you fall in love, it is with alarm bells ringing. Your love is a mistake, a flaw in the code, a purchase you don’t remember making and desperately want to return. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t want this. It’s a problem–– your problem ––and you would do anything to pass it off, burn it away, scoop it out of you with bare hands, or carved out with hooked knives before it can destroy you. Get it out, just get it out now. You don’t care who you hurt in the process, only that you can’t afford to be hurt first. Being loved by you is to be loved by a figment of the imagination. It is to be loved in halves, or not at all.

was tagged by @flovoid ! i tag @bibliosims @prophetictattoo @elderwisp @acuar-io (feel free to ignore ofc!)

#ts4 #sims 4 #oc.atticus #oc.judah

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lescarbille · 2 months

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Try to convince you to read my next landoscar fanfiction when it came out on ao3 : Every dead man should tell some tales Main tags : lovers to enemies to lovers | forced partnership | spying | alternative universe - magic | fake pretend relationship | morally gray characters First part of chapter 01

October 13 | four years ago | Close to Orsay train station, Paris

At midnight, there is silence.

Paris is bathed in a mystical atmosphere under the light of the moon. Its silvery shards project, it is the only witness of the night, no one dares to go out, not when darkness can arise and engulf Life. The press writes about it, bloody corpses on the road, bodies which go back up to the surface after weeks in the Seine.

Security does not exist in the dark.

The cobbled streets usually bustling with activity are deserted while the immense clock of the Orsay station strikes the twelfth stroke of midnight. The rain falls heavily on the monumental iron needle at its pinnacle, on the ground of Paris. The drops create a morbid symphony against the cobblestones, glowing with a spectral radiance and trembling in front of the flickering street lamps.

“Oscar !”

Running footsteps sound sporadically, while wisps of steam escape from manholes, dancing like ghosts in the humid air before dissipating into the darkness.

“Oscar !”

Two silhouettes can be seen in the night. The first is that of a man running, thin and athletic, with erratic head movements, trying to catch a glimpse of the second: Oscar who is in the darkness as if he had always belonged there.

“Oscar! Oscar! Stop! You coward!” the voice shouts.

Oscar's silhouette stops in front of a puddle glowing with a kaleidoscope of blue, purple and other colours of the night. The rain falls on his flattened hair, making him look miserable, but his brown eyes shine with a pugnacious, almost angry glint as the second figure joins him, kicking up the water with each of his strides.

“I have to call you a coward to make you stop! What the hell, Oscar!”, his voice cracks when he says his name again. “Why do I hear you’re leaving? Why are you leaving ? Why is it Charles, Charles Leclerc, of all people, who tells me that you are leaving!”

Oscar doesn't respond, he stares at him placidly, expressionless and emotionless. Lando would be lying if he didn't say it broke his heart. Oscar always looks at him as if he were capable of dislodging the stars from the sky to offer them to him, he looks at Lando as if he were the most precious star in the universe, he manages to see in Lando something that his scarlet hands prevent him from seeing.

He flinches.

“Oscar, say something!” he orders, pursing his lips, his chest starting to hurt. “Oscar, I swear that if you abandon me, you better assume it and tell me why by looking me straight in the eyes! You promised to stay.”

Oscar turns around and starts walking, without expressing the slightest emotion or the slightest word. A painful sob escapes Lando's throat, as he shivers from the cold as the icy water from a night's rain seeps into his bones. He is trembling with fear, the first person who loved him for everything he is, flaws and qualities, has decided to leave him without a word, without a “goodbye” like a thief. He's shaking with grief, it's all-consuming, the way his whole body collapses, his chest becomes so painful he feels like he's being suffocated, and he could die right there.

Lando takes two strides, smashes his foot against a deep puddle of water which trembles his feet and calves, a puddle which resembles an ocean between them and which wishes to engulf and drown him, the drops of water resembling the claws of an underwater creature.

He grabs his wrist, his long fingers wrapping around the joint, his skin frozen like the dead, before it reflects the warmth Lando loved to snuggle into and call: “home.”

“Please, Oscar! Please say something! I’ll go with you, explain to me!”

Oscar's shoulders hunched, an imperceptible movement under the moon's silver glow. He almost looks like a ghost, his expression still blank when he turns to Lando again. He hates it, the way he always kept his thoughts to himself, never letting any of the sadness, pain or anger show, when they were younger, it frustrated him.

Oscar takes his hands in his, the pressure is gentle, and Lando feels something cold fall into his palm.

For a pivotal moment, Oscar seems to hesitate. Lando sees so much pain behind his brown eyes that he can't feel his breath catch.

“Oscar, please. I don’t want to force you into a loop to explain to me, we promised never to use our power on each other and I don’t want to break that promise. I’m here. Tell me. Please.”

And Oscar lets go of his hand.

The rain separates them.

Lando wants to create a loop, a time loop, it's his power as a Medean, he can change the recent past, relive it, change the outcomes. He wants it. He wants Oscar to talk to him, he wants him to stay, he refuses the rain, the darkness, the obscurity, and the cold. He knows them too well, and he doesn't want them in his life any more, not when he can have Oscar.

And yet he remains there. Still. Immobile.

His Medean gifts bloom on his skin, and he does not use them.

A thick, impenetrable wall, almost solid rain, a boundary they can no longer cross because Lando is too injured to climb against that wall and try to reach it again and because Oscar already seems far away, too far away. He’s blurry like an image already tarnished by time.

Time is a cruel entity. Oscar is even more so.

He sniffles and holds back another painful sob.

He opens his hand, there are two simple silver rings. A promise that wasn't kept, a goodbye, a secret that Lando didn't know Oscar was keeping and that leaves him with more questions.

Midnight has passed, and the death knell of their breakup tolls, with only the icy rain and darkness remaining to accompany him.

Notes : - The Musée d'Orsay in Paris was a train station which closed in 1910, reopening in 1986 under the name of the Musée d'Orsay, where you can find impressionist paintings such as Monet, Cézanne, Degas, Manet, Van Gogh… The story does not have a specific year, especially because it is an AU with magical realism, but it can be placed between the end of the 19th century and the very beginning of the 20th. The Musée d'Orsay is, in my opinion, of all the Parisian stations, one of the most beautiful with a series of massive clocks that can be seen on the Impressionist floor. - Medean = people with magical abilities. It comes from the Greek sorceress and priestress of Hecate : Medea. It is also inspired by the Atlas trilogy written by Olivie Blake. - Lando's power is to create a time loop of a present past several time in a row in order to change an event.

#mctwinkles #f1 fanfic #landoscar

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rainykthebroken · 5 months

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magolor 8, 16, 21

Thank you for your ask !

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

That's a pretty tough question, especially considering that most of us are on the same page when it comes to the character. I even find the fact that some people have quite opposite interpretations of Magolor extremely interesting! But perhaps what I like least is pushing Magolor's characterization to one of two extremes: either he always remains a pernicious being biding his time to betray Kirby again, or he's far too nice and we lose the certain malice and imperfection that remain inherent to the character.

The prologue of the RTDL remake at least proved that Magolor had changed and faced up to the consequences of his actions (while showing that he had a sense of humor in using Master Crown as a means of payment).

16. What's your least favorite ship for this character?

I don’t necessarily hate any ship in the Kirby fandom, so I think it’s best if I give a personal ranking of the most popular ones with Magolor:

1# Magolor/Taranza = for a variety of good reasons that I will explain once I finish AWA, but I think most can understand why.

2# Magolor/Marx = both have similar backgrounds (having betrayed Kirby) while also possessing very different tempers. However, I see them more as best friends. Having two lovebirds with the same type of trauma can be good, but I prefer how Magolor and Taranza have both made very different mistakes, yet it can be watered down to each craving desperately the love and admiration of someone.

3# Magolor/Meta Knight = while I don’t think MK could fall in love with Magolor, especially after he betrayed them in the past, this ship can always lead to slow rebuilding of trust, and I love that.

4# Magolor/Susie = both are engineer and have a trauma revolving around Another Dimension. However, I think the role of friends, with a hint of rivalry, works perfectly for the two of them.

There are many more ships like Magolor/Daroach, or Magolor/Galacta Knight, but I don’t have strong opinion on them, even if they can lead to very interesting fics.

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

Oh boy !

I love writing him for a lot of reasons, but the most obvious is his imperfection. Magolor has many flaws, we can all agree on that, but where he could have sat on his own puddle of misery and hatred, he pulled himself out of the hole he'd dug for himself.

Most importantly, what I like the most doing while writing him is developing and deepening his mental state. Even if he is reformed, scars are still there. His past as a villain doesn’t have to define his future. Magolor slowly understanding he don’t have to be ashamed of having emotions, that crying is not a sign weakness, that showing vulnerably wont result in him getting automatically hurt: that is the salt of my fanfics about him.

As for the thing I dislike the most writing with him, it’s difficult. Paradoxically, I’m always afraid that by showing the most vulnerable side of Magolor so many times, I’m stripping of the legitimate badass aura he has in the mind of my readers. So the things I like best writing about Magolor must always be used sparingly, otherwise these scenes lose their impact through overuse.

Again, thank you for your ask!

#rainyk post #ask game #magolor

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tenebraevesper · 6 months

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Five Nights at Freddy's: Masterpiece, Night 0: Masterpiece

''Oh friend, old friend, this is, this is the end for us, for this, we've reminisced. But now, we're here confused, and full of fear. There must be another story I'm sure we would all like to hear. So many questions, but there's only one to be answered. Who are we, who are we? Who are we?''

– Masterpiece by CG5 ft. B-Slick (Bendy and The Ink Machine)

xXxXxXx

How long has it been? Days? Weeks?

The room was cold and dark, the air damp and musty. It has been long since anyone entered it and even longer since it had been closed. There were puddles on the floor and water stains on the walls. Cobwebs were spread in the corners of the room like a bizzare Halloween decoration. Two old and broken arcade machines were standing against the wall, a thick layer of dust having formed on them.

Are they still here? I don't see them.

An old costume, or rather, an animatronic suit resembling a bunny, was leaned against the wall, his head slumped down. The fur of the suit had turned green, a far cry from its original golden colour, after years of neglect. Tears on the suit exposed the animatronic endoskeleton inside it, as well as a pink, flesh-like substance that coiled around the endoskeleton, having merged with it. Half of his left ear was missing, exposing the wires.

Heh, they probably thought they won. They have no idea how wrong they were.

The animatronic had a rather odd history. First, it had been created as a mascot for a small family diner, alongside a jolly golden bear. Aside from being a robot, it had also been designed to be worn as a suit, with the endoskeleton being forced into the suit and held via spring locks, allowing a performer to put the suit on and perform.

Perhaps, I should've tried harder.

However, that kind of design had a dangerous flaw. A wrong move would result in the endoskeleton parts being released, slicing the performer into pieces. It was actually unknown how many victims the suit had claimed and whether any of them survived. The suit's true nature had been held secret for a long time, but after too many accidents, it had to be retired and hidden inside a secret room.

Strange that they left it here. They had probably forgotten about this place.

People had come and gone, new animatronics were created to perform and yet, new never meant safe. There had always been danger lurking in this restaurant, like some kind of curse. Murders, haunted animatronics, small accidents ascribed to glitches and malfunctions,… It was a wonder it had lasted this long.

But you haven't forgotten about me, Henry. There's nothing that could ever erase all the suffering you went through. It is impressive, isn't it?

Nevertheless, the restaurant had finally closed its doors. They couldn't pretend nor ignore it anymore. The animatronics would behave oddly every night, scaring the living daylights out of the night guards, who would either quit the next day or… leave through different means. There was a reason they invested so much money in bleaching the floors and removing the carpets. The reinforced blast doors were new, though.

Do you even know why I did it? You probably had been asking yourself that ever since you decided to not get anymore involved with your creations. It was quite a tragedy.

Not many knew the reason why the animatronics were so aggressive towards the night guards, or any adult for that matter. The staff didn't know that the animatronics, despite being robots, actually had souls inside them. Souls of murdered children, but souls nonetheless. It was obvious that a scared and angry child would lash out at anyone who even remotely reminded them of their murderer.

I wonder what you would say if I told you that you were the one who led me to this discovery. There is life after death, or rather, life that can be tied to animatronics. I simply had to learn more about it. I wanted to know what benefits and negative effects it had, you see. My experiments led me to the discovery of what could be called pseudo-immortality… at least, if you wish to have your soul tied to an animatronic.

All those children knew was pain and suffering, wasting away as they tried to find out how to escape their fate. Their conclusion was that they needed to kill their murderer, else their souls would never rest. Of course, that it what they assumed. They didn't know whether their souls would be released if they finally got rid off the man who made them suffer for so long.

Those children… I should've thought that they would try to get revenge on me. After all, there were so many rumors about the animatronics' behavior. It wouldn't be hard to conclude that their souls caused the animatronics to approach any adult with the intent of killing them. Nevertheless, it is fascinating what they have become… They were almost perfect. Almost.

After the restaurant's final closure, the building started to fall apart. It was a ruin and the rumors that accompanied said ruin prevented people from entering it. Memories of the past accidents were still fresh and the fear spread like fire. However, this didn't stop one person from going inside.

I had to take them apart. They have proven to be too dangerous. My actual intention was to use the parts as study material, but it seemed like a miss in the end. Or maybe it wasn't? Does the soul still stay attached to an animatronic even if the animatronic gets dismantled? I still haven't heard anything from them and I can't leave this bloody room. It sometimes feels like a cruel joke.

Their programming told them to follow the strange noise, but when they arrived at the room, they got struck by an axe. Pieces flew in every direction. It didn't take long for them to be completely torn apart by the very man who had already killed them once before.

I should've taken the animatronic's programming into account. How could I even forget about the internal map? Why did we even put one in the springlock animatronics? It doesn't matter in the long run, though. The children have been guided by the animatronics, but I know that I can take over this suit and use it as my new body.

They were free now, but couldn't enjoy their freedom for too long. After chasing the murderer into the hidden room, they hoped they could finally achieve their goal. They believed their wish had been granted when the man ran over and put on the lone bunny suit that had been hidden inside the room. They watched as he rose, laughing at them like a madman, telling them how they achieved nothing. His gloating lasted only for a few seconds, followed by screams of pain as the sharp metal pieces of the endoskeleton were driven into his flesh. Blood flew through the tears, the animatronic falling down, twitching as the man's life drained slowly away.

It was agonizing, but it was worth it.

The animatronic lift his head, revealing his silver eyes, which started to glow in a green colour.

What I created, what we both created… Henry, you have no idea. Although, I sincerely doubt you would take the nightmarish path I had taken. I don't think that any of us could even imagine to find themselves in this situation. We both took different roads, but only one rose above the ashes.

xXx

He rose his head, looking at the camera. He was close to the office, having already been in this corridor numerous times, but would always get drawn away by a distraction in the form of child's laughter.

Or was it just Balloon Boy's voice clip?

He was capable of controlling the animatronic to some extent, but the animatronic's programming would sometimes take over, driving him further away from his actual goal. He needed to go to the main office. He wanted to visit the very person who was sitting inside the room, trying to keep him at a stalemate until daylight.

What time is it? It doesn't matter. I will find a way inside, mark my word.

It felt a little strange when he first arrived here, at this horror attraction. The only reason he was even found was because some fans of Freddy's decided to create an attraction for those plagued by nostalgia… murders and haunted animatronic be damned. Or, maybe this was the true reason why this place was created? Not many places could boast about having a bunch of haunted robots as entertainers.

I wonder who will last longer. Don't worry, I'll make sure you won't die alone. I'll stay with you, watching while your life is drained out of you and only an useless body is left. I sincerely doubt you'd be able to achieve the same I did. See, there are no spare animatronics. However, knowing you, you wouldn't do that.

They called him Springtrap, unaware that he would embrace his new name and identity. It sounded rather twisted, but so was he. All of the animatronics that had been created had been lost to time and decay, while he took the spotlight. This was his stage and the person inside the office was just an attraction in his amusement park.

Old friend, no matter how you look at it, this is the end. Your story has ended, while mine will continue. I know your thirst for revenge, but I won't let you fulfill that desire. There's only little time left, but so much to do. For now, I'll have to satisfy myself with taking care of you.

He walked into the next corridor, only to see flames licking the walls. The building had been engulfed into a fire.

xXx

This won't do it. He threw the piece away. This neither.

His new body had been damaged by the fire, but he still managed to escape. Now, he needed to find new parts for the suit before it fell apart. While it was tedious and annoying to take into consideration the fact that he'd have to also repair the animatronic every so often, he was still satisfied with the result.

All that was needed was heat. Remnant falls apart at high temperatures, but I'm not sure if you even knew it before the fire. Now, our creations have perished in the fire. Or did they? Don't you remember? I may have looked careless, but I did wonder what happened to them. It has been a long time since I've been there.

He kept on searching for parts. All he could think now about was how to fulfill his desire for blood.

xXx

We're here…

Flames spread through the corridor, but he found himself unable to escape.

This is how it ends…

It was a trap, just like predicted. Nevertheless, he still entered it. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was pure idiocy on his part.

I can't believe you have chosen this ending. Life doesn't mean much to you after losing a loved one, right?

He reminisced, listening to the agonizing screams. His vision blurred as he started to lose consciousness.

I'm already dead, Henry. I don't fear dying again.

''This ends. For all of us. End communication.''

xXx

The fear, the terror… Tell me, who are we? You never knew the real me, did you?

The man, William Afton looked down, not daring to look at the nightmares that trapped him inside this place. This was his punishment and he couldn't escape it.

Who knows, maybe the story will live on. Maybe it will be forgotten.

He heard the steps approaching him again. He knew how this night would end.

This horror story, everything that had been created and destroyed…

He looked at the Puppet, who toyed with him like a marionette tied to strings, over and over again. He had accepted his fate.

This was my masterpiece.

xXx

The Story Continues...

Five Nights at Freddy's:

Salvaged

Even after escaping Hell, William is still haunted by his past. Back as Springtrap, he's forced to confront his past self, accepting either atonement or annihilation. To his surprise, he gains unexpected assistance from Sam, who is investigating the rumors surrounding the new Fazbear location…

Links:

#Current Chapter

#Next Chapter

#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story (Masterlist)

#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story #Five Nights at Freddy's: Masterpiece #william afton #springtrap #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #five nights at freddy's 3 #fnaf 3 #freddy fazbear's pizzeria simulator #freddy fazbear #chica the chicken #bonnie the bunny #foxy the pirate #golden freddy #henry emily #charlotte emily #the puppet #ultimate custom night #fnaf ucn

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the-present-is-a-gift-au · 1 month

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Chapter 34: In Which Darkrai is a Tattle-Tale

Kip woke up sprawled at the edge of a dig site, his blurry vision not helped by the dim light of torches set into tall poles only marginally keeping the site from being shrouded in complete darkness. Their flames were weak and sputtered as they struggled not to die out entirely, and even in his groggy stupor Kip rushed over to renew their flames. An inventor had designed them to burn indefinitely, not needing anything but time in the sun to renew their fuel reserves. At nightfall, they would automatically spark to life and keep the dig sites Kip and his team worked on perfectly lit. That wasn't to say the curious torches weren't without their flaws— they needed to be relit manually every so often as a sort of technological hiccup.

Kip didn't think anything strange of the situation he was in. It was often a task that fell to him to relight the torches before dinner— he wasn't much of a cook, but he knew how to tend to the torches well enough to claim it as a chore that spared everyone his presence in the kitchen tent. So he went to work sparking them into renewed brightness with the flint and steel he always kept handy in his archaeologist's bag.

No, he didn't think anything strange of the situation he found himself in. But then he looked down at the dig site at his feet.

He fell back in a startled flurry of limbs when he saw the familiar runes of the rainbow stoneship below him, breaths coming in terrified gasps. He had practically memorized them on that awful ride away from where Twig vanished before his eyes while he clung to her and sobbed, begging her not to leave him. What was going on? Why was he digging here of all places? Where was his team? Why was—

“Ah. I hadn't thought that this would be a worrisome setting. You'll have to forgive the mistake— It's not often I try to make a nightmare comfortable.”

Why was he hearing Darkrai's voice behind him?

Kip whirled around as the scene melted and his surroundings shed themselves like a second skin. He was standing in a dim cavern with no exits, Darkrai himself standing several yards away. He shot into action, launching a forceful blast of water in the direction of the wretch who had nearly ruined the world, harsh enough to bore through stone—

—but then the water harmlessly fell to the ground in a puddle, barely splashing a droplet just shy of Darkrai.

“None of that, thank you,” the Legend huffed. He added in a murmur under his breath, “I thought he'd be more willing to talk things through than she was…” then spoke up. “I'd like to speak with you.”

“I don't have anything to say to you, you monster!” Kip spat.

“I thought so. Thankfully, I don't require your response—” He barely dodged Kip’s next blow, a powerful punch that he swung his full weight into. “Enough. I don't want to have to restrain you. I came to have a civil discussion, not to fight.”

“What is there to discuss? You're back and we have to stop you again, but this time we know what we're up against, and Twig won't be stuck protecting me now that I can hold my own. Now face me!”

“Stop.” He evaded several more blows, catching Kip by the arms and holding him in place against the cavern wall. “I do not want to face you, I want to tell you something important—”

“Let go!”

“It concerns your partner.”

“What are you talking about? What concerns—” He froze. “What did you do to Twig?”

“If you’d stop so desperately trying to engage me in combat, I could tell you. Are you done yet?” He asked, radiating a potent exasperation.

Kip didn't answer, but didn't launch into another strike when released. Darkrai drifted away several paces, hands still slightly outstretched if Kip made another move to attack, but relaxed when he remained in place.

“Your cooperation is appreciated,” Darkrai said, voice lofty and almost sarcastic in its tone. “I am not not a man who finds meddling in his nature, but this instance requires it of me. Your partner has behaved in increasingly worrisome manners, and it has forced my hand. You need to speak with her.”

“Wh—” Kip struggled to get out the words he wanted. “Why in the… What the heck are you talking about?”

“There was an instance in which we had a… confrontation. She expressed a desire for me to kill her, and stated I'd be doing her a favor by doing so. I had assumed it was a means of spitting in the face of death, but having observed her in other circumstances…”

Kip furrowed his brow, absolutely bewildered by this conversation.

“I worry. That is all I will say. I worry for her, and I request that you keep a watch over her that accompanies my own— as well as request that you speak to her candidly about the concerns you no doubt hold yourself.”

“I don't…” He opened and closed his mouth several times. “You wanted us to kill ourselves, and now you're worried because you think Twig is suicidal.”

“I don't suspect it is an active desire, but yes. It is concerning when one holds such a craving for so permanent a reprieve from their concerns.”

“You wanted us to kill ourselves,” Kip stressed. “And now you’re— What changed? Why act all of a sudden like you care? Is this a trick?”

Darkrai hesitated. He hesitated. Kip could barely believe his eyes when he saw him glance away in discomfort.

“Answer me. What changed, Darkrai? I don't— I don't trust you. Why should I? Why shouldn't I think that this is a mind game to get Twig to consider…?”

He finally met Kip's gaze. “She brought to light that I've been wrong in a great number of things, most of all in how I thought the world a place that deserved to burn. Your partner showed me kindness where she could have shown me spite. I intend to return that debt.”

“What debt? What are you talking about?”

“Ah.” He seemed nearly startled by his question. “How to explain it…” Pausing, Darkrai considered how to respond. “I believe both Grovyle and Twig herself mentioned her having taken in an amnesiac roommate?”

Kip was so shocked he jerked awake in a flash.

***

Twig couldn't deny it any longer. It was so painfully obvious, and she couldn't ignore it anymore, because there was no way around it— ever since his afternoon nap, Kip had been staring at her weirdly. She couldn't shake the feeling that he had questions he wasn't asking, but was near bursting with the urge to say.

He pulled her aside after Dusknoir set out to meet with Magnezone and the magnemites while Celebi and Grovyle went out for a walk to get some sun. “Hey, can we talk?”

An icy dread speared Twig through the gut. “S-Sure, what's up?”

“I'm sure it's nothing, but— um…” He fidgeted nervously, not meeting her eyes. “How have you been? Since the whole… Not-Cresselia thing?”

Frick. Heck. Dang. “Fine. Why?”

“I just… I know that it really freaked you out that one time when you thought I'd— y’know?”

(Twig unwillingly recalled how she'd thought Kip had heeded a disguised Darkrai's urging to sacrifice himself for the sake of the world. The panic and grief that she'd felt then was unlike anything she could ever put into words. It was a numb, aching, hollow pain that swallowed her whole, and she had sobbed deep and hard enough to turn herself almost inside-out when she found him safe and well as he watched the sunrise.)

“Yeah, it was freaky. I don't want to ever go through that again.” she murmured. “Why bring it up?” Her eyes widened. “Kip, are you—? I love you, alright? More than I can say. I couldn't imagine life without you. Don't ever even dream about—”

He put up his flippers in a placating gesture. “No, no! It's not like that! I just— uh—” He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck to ease his anxiety. It was a tell of his that Twig knew all too well. He didn't want to say this next bit, whatever it was. “I just… I wondered if you maybe… I was wondering if you were thinking about that sort of— route personally.”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“Are you okay? Really, Twig, are you? Have you considered…?”

Twig gaped at him in silence for a long moment, dumbfounded. “No,” she finally said, voice a squeak even though it was mostly true. She hadn't considered such things in a long time. Not seriously, at least. She still had those urges when she upset someone, thinking that they would be happier with her gone, but she knew that it wouldn't accomplish anything if she actually acted on it. They wouldn't know the difference if she was there the next day or not. She might as well stick around and try to make amends as a result.

Kip watched her quietly, a sorrowful look in his eyes. He didn't believe her.

“I mean it, man. I'm not thinking that way anymore. I'm fine—”

“Are you really fine, though?’

“Yes,” she stressed. “I've got my problems, but that isn't one of them. Not enough to worry about it, anyways.”

Kip took a moment to respond. “You'll tell me if it ever gets worse, right? And I'll tell you if I ever feel anything similar. Promise?”

She bumped her fist against his curled flipper in a silent affirmative, then nodded. “You got it, buddy. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

He gave her a look of horror.

“It's a saying,” she hurriedly explained. “Not literally. Just a saying.”

“Oh. Okay. Gotcha.” Her friend fidgeted nervously for a moment, then threw his arms around her in a hug. “I love you, Twig. I love you a lot. I can't handle the thought of you being gone.”

She blinked a couple times, startled, and patted his back. The hug made her bones ache with longing to melt into the kind gesture, but she managed to hold up an unaffected front. “I love you too, man. I'm— uh— I'm gonna go for a walk.”

“Alright. Be safe.”

“Will do.”

Twig was going to have a breakdown one of these days. She knew it. With their farewells bidden, she hastened outside to catch her breath, uttering a quick prayer that she wouldn't bump into anyone while she felt so fragile.

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