#zombies x male reader

[clarks-letterman]

URGGGGGEEEEE!!!!!!!!!! | zed necrodopolis x male!reader

a/n — putting this as male reader because it's implied. not explicitly stated but I don't want to misadvertise the fic lol, gender neutral pronouns and body parts used. I don't really like the smut in this but the idea was funny to me… this fic will definitely be non-canon by the time Z4 releases!!

summary — Zed goes to Mountain College and gets a sex toy, his roommate comes to their shared dorm at a bad time.

words — 3k

warnings — smut! 18+ | implications of sex and actual sex occur, uses of the word "gooning", zed zombies out and they fuck so... feral!Zed, slight dubcon!! - first zombies fic so it may be ooc or just poorly written

~~~

Fall was in full swing at Mountain College. Soon the tops of roofs would be snowcapped and walkways would be sprinkled with salt, but for now, everyone tried to enjoy the weather while it was still warm. Sloping sides brought the occasional gusts of wind that all of the early morning go-getters had to deal with. They had to learn the hard way to bundle up if they wanted to make it to class without becoming the next monster to roam the Earth—probably as a snow yeti or something similar. The lecture halls were grand to handle the kind of metamorphosis a lot of human and inhuman students would be going through over the course of their early adult years. The only place where people were forced to grow together were the dorm rooms—as a push for inclusivity at Mountain College left everyone in close quarters to someone—or something—they had no clue existed before college. It was another thing to learn about, to understand that the small circle of your hometown isn’t the only circle to exist. People have groups that come in all shapes and sizes, and not all of them are going to fit together nicely, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be an effort. But there was one unspoken rule that everyone had to learn, regardless of their major: don’t enter a room with a tie, sock, or anything hanging off the door handle. Not at parties, not in classrooms—if there was such a thing to happen, and especially not at your dorm.

When Zed arrived at Mountain College, he never expected anyone to be as pro-zombie as they were. His roommate was insanely warm and kind to him. No one really hid who they were here. They were at that stage where they left the conformities of high school and living with their parents to being so overwhelmed with freedom that they had no way to grasp everything they had. The freedom; the new flaws determined by society were still unclear. Zed was one of those people, being free from the shackles of Seabrook and Zombietown’s driving force in unity to being another student in a sea full of them. It wasn’t to the same extent that he had gone through, but the established scene of breaking free from your past to start something new is what really pushed him to start trying things. He wanted to be a part of the community and to do that, you have to understand the area first. 

Zed started by doing most of his workouts around campus, then transitioning over to the city that was built around Mountain College. The short drive down to the city below could be completed in a timely manner during a daring jog down the road leading to the developed area. He never wore more than a tank top and shorts for his morning runs. The college was north of the city, so he only ever rarely went into the downtown area during his morning runs. He decided to go farther on his run today since he had an upcoming game and needed to burn off the endless brain-fest for dinner from the night before. So many calories, so little scores during his big game was how he viewed it.

Most of the shops still weren’t open, but there was one on this block that was still open. It turns out that the shop was not opening early in the morning, but in fact, closing after a very late night. The neon signs had yet to be turned off, and one reading ‘OPEN’ in big illuminated letters drew his attention. Next to it was a red triple-X sign.

The fleshlight was cobbled together with scraps and carefully welded parts to resemble the repurposed items of Zombietown. It reminded him of home, and the clerk told him that the toy was advanced, deceiving the average person by appearing to only be made of scraps and to have the basic, archaic function of just fucking it. Inside it was a hidden set of magnetic coils that both provided the correct amount of electromagnetic pulses through the zombie’s dick to prevent them from turning into the much more unpleasant version of themselves and it heightened the feeling of jerking off while the machine made contact with the skin from the inside.

He listened to what the clerk had to say about remembering to take off his Z-Band so it wouldn’t overstimulate him to the point of numbness, and that the side effects of it were mainly just slowed brain activity from “too much gooning.” As Zed would be quick to learn, it was called going cockdumb. There was the opposite, too, where his zombie side would forfeit all rational thought and quickly take whatever the closest thing to fuck is around to poundtown.

He learned quickly, though, and did as he said when he got back to his dorm. The order of instructions was simple: get yourself ready—get your dick hard, is how he interpreted it, take off the Z-Band, and use the fleshlight to calm all of his zombie urges. Before he started any of that, though, he placed one of his ties around the door handle facing the hallway. Then he got undressed, stripping down until the full-body mirror over his closet’s sliding door reflected his pale figure and vibrant green hair. He stood in the frame, checking out his recent gains for a second—still eternally lanky, but he was starting to fill out in the places that mattered.

His hands roamed over his body until he got down to his nether regions. Zed rubbed his dick until he was hard enough to stick his dick in the fleshlight, then watched in the mirror as he took off his Z-Band. The area around his eyes started to darken and dark veins started coursing all over his body. He took a few deep breaths before reaching for the fleshlight, each breath drawn in becoming more raspy as his insides changed in a way he couldn’t see. Carefully, holding on to it with an intentionally lighter grip so as to not overuse his own strength, he guided it over his cock and watched his tip disappear into the slit. He moaned, it was tight. He moaned again, it was vibrating. And then he looked back up at his reflection, the monstrous features were gone. 

Zed never told you about his little reveries into sex and pleasure as the weeks went on. After that faithful day, he found that he came harder and started to crave the feeling of release more and more. The feeling was simply addictive to him: a mix of tingles from the electro-pulses and genuine pleasure from the stimulation. But with how frequently he did it, there was bound to be a day where mistiming or miscommunication would expose him in the act. Today was that day.

It was around two in the afternoon, the ground was covered in a thin layer of snow and Zed had stopped his morning runs in favor of a quick indoor exercise and then moved to jerking off while the sun rose—you were returning to your shared dorm with the zombie from a lecture, notably earlier than usual. It was a Gen-Ed for biology, something that Zed had learned when you approached him one night in the hopes of having him help you. If he remembered correctly, it was about zombies—a newly implemented unit in the curriculum, now finding its way into its own circle of life. New studies emerged about the carbon emission of their dead cells that Zed couldn’t help with, but he explained how he felt that he functioned and the way he and plants interacted. That was at the beginning of the semester and it was how he found out that your class ran until around two-thirty. Usually.

Zed was enjoying his time inside for a change. Having finished his classes for the day and feeling the testosterone of his morning workout preserved through it all, he decided the best thing to do during his alone time was to use his broken-in toy. Zed was confident enough to not hide his sex life—well, he was confident enough to act like he was having sex with someone else, not his sex toy or the fact that he edged himself until he literally couldn’t hold it in anymore. That part was thankfully undisclosed by everyone since they knew not to enter his dorm, but you entered without thinking. He was laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling like the white ceiling was painted over with the limitless stream of thoughts flowing out of his head. His eyes were shut, soft moans slipped out and he barely shifted the fleshlight on his dick out of the fear of blowing his load too early.

His load threatening to come out dissipated quickly, though, when he heard the door handle click. Then the hydraulic mechanisms that would normally push the door shut started to whir as it opened. He reached for the blanket he slept under, letting the fleshlight hang off his dick so he could find something to cover himself up. He was mad at himself for slipping into the habit of playing with himself while naked, but it was so much easier to bunch his comforter up against the wall and lay in bed with easy access to all of his holes. In the seconds—which felt even shorter for him—he covered his lower half and just accepted that you would see his bare torso. With enough smooth talking, he could convince you that he had just woken up from a nap. 

“Don’t be mad.” You said, coming in, hoping that he wasn’t with a naked girl or anything. You tried keeping your view of the inside of the room as limited as possible by turning your head just in case. “But I got out early ‘cause of the weather and I saw the sock…”

The only issue was that his fleshlight was forming a bump in his sheets, meaning that he couldn’t be laid down without it looking like he had a huge dick—or what would be the more reasonable explanation: he had a sex toy. Either way, it looked unnatural. So while you were still acclimating to the sight of him, purposefully looking away to give him time to cover up. You were still under the impression that someone else was in there, but you heard the clatter of something hit the floor, followed by a hasty curse under his breath.

You decided that you had given him long enough and finally looked into your shared dorm room. On the floor was a machine made out of old zombie parts that seemed to have broken into pieces, scattered around a pair of bare feet that padded around the carpet in panic. Your eyes trailed up to see Zed, naked and with a raging hard dick. Still freshly coated from the lube he pumped into his fleshlight, still wet enough to glisten in the sunlight pouring in the window behind him. And to say he was naked didn’t mean much, because he was truly naked—no Z-Band in sight on his body. His dick was red for only a second before the veins on it darkened along with the rest of his body. 

Somehow, his dick looked to be bigger, more intimidating. The dark shade it turned caused it to look like anything but slimming. His chest started heaving and that drew you to his arms, bulging with thick black veins that trailed up his arms and increasingly curved arms. They started finding their way to his midsection until his hands reached his dick. Neither one touched his pulsing cock, but motioned around it as if he knew that the fleshlight was unusable. He started fucking the air like he knew the presence of it from his more conscious and tame state.

Incoherently, through a gust of grunts and growls, he started speaking. It sounded like the friendly words he used during your past exchanges but were blatantly needy and desperate. You couldn’t quite hear what he said, so you moved closer under the assumption that he still had some control. Some sense of sanity without his Z-Band on. But as soon as you were within his reach…

Zed grabbed you, pulling you closer to his naked form. You looked at the dark circles around his eyes before meeting his actual eyes. A few words slipped through—as if he could still recall the language he had used for years somewhere deep in his brain—slurring out a loose connection of words that sounded like: “You break it… I break you…”

Zed’s mind was everywhere yet nowhere at once. His feral side was feeling and processing all of the emotions from his “human” side. So many things in his head were whirring for the first time in a while, and nothing was shutting down to compensate for the rising new emotions of rapacity—the urge to have it all and take it all. His head was already running at one-hundred and ten percent so now he needed to claim things in the room. To make things his. His room; the little voice in the back of his head that he suppressed about being annoyed by the fact that he had to share a room with you was finally being heard. You’d walk out of this—or better yet, be carried—with a new perspective on ownership.

Sex with Zed was fast. The urges brought on by his true zombie nature allowed him to rip off the clothes you wore to attend class. They were in shreds, adding to scattered bits of his broken toy, some landing on the sharper parts of it so that you didn’t have to worry about stepping on something painful as he guided you to his bed. It was the closest one to him and the easiest to throw you down on since the sheets were all undone, unmade. He would make you a mess in the next few moments so it didn’t really matter to him.

But for the first time, Zed was faced with a challenge in his zombie brain. He had put you on his bed—the faint smells of sex and sweat emanating into your nose from how much he jerked off in his bed, typically covered by his comforter—but now he looked at you, laid on your back, head on his pillow, and he was faced with one of two choices: did he want to cum in your mouth or your ass? He wanted to do both, and he hit his head in frustration, grunting. The simple thoughts his undead brain was meant to handle couldn’t stomach this as easily as brains.

A feeling deep within him told him that your ass would bring him the greater amount of pleasure, so he hopped on the bed with you, kneeling. His increased strength allowed him to lift your legs easily and with an unmatched haste. Your hole was in clear sight, and he wasted no time in burying himself down into it and lapping away. It was another sensation he had, thanks to consuming a million videos of porn in his spare time. That, and he was still a zombie. Flesh was something that he wanted to taste during his feral frenzy. It was the only thing his tongue tasted: the saltiness of skin. He felt so good, and you wanted to bury your fingers in his vibrant green hair to push him deeper into you, but that seemed a little too risky in his current state. Besides, he didn’t stay down there long. His head reared up a few moments after going down on you, his clear intention to fuck you until he comes, not the other way around.

Thanks to already fucking his fleshlight, his dick was still coated in lube; still sheening with its slick surface reflecting the light. When he put his dick in, he didn’t feel any friction, and he wouldn’t have cared if he did. The friction didn’t bother him and if it didn’t bother him, then it shouldn’t bother you. It never became a problem, though.

Zed decided that the perfect position to keep you in was with your legs over each of his thin shoulders. He started thrusting, taking little to no time to go as fast as he could. He was desperate, uncaring if you needed time to adjust. But, like everything else about his zombie-heightened feelings, what it took to make him cum went up too—much higher than his regular edging point. 

Zed was a quick learner. He found which spots made you feel the best—well, which ones made your face twist and your head turn into his pillow as he fucked you. That seemed to make him climb to the peak faster than anything else. Your ass was tight and soft, sure, but it was your reaction to how he dominated you with his big dick that really made him get going. He unleashed a flurry of moans that were deeper than the voice you got used to hearing.

Wet sounds and slapping filled the room until he came for the first time. You could feel your ass burning from the rough slapping and the way he kept up the skin-to-skin contact—breeding you until he was out of breath. Just like when he first transformed into the beastly version of himself. 

Zed pulled his dick out and you could hear the wet gushing, as well as the feeling of your hole leaking with his cum. He must have been really pent-up because it was already ruining his sheets and still seeping out of the tip of his dick. You looked around for his Z-band, still gathering your surroundings and acclimating yourself to the point-of-view of his bed. It looked to be on his dresser and within arm’s reach, so you went to grab it. But Zed stopped you, guiding your hand to his dick that was still hard. This was going to be a long night…

#zed necrodopolis #zed necrodopolis x reader #zed necrodopolis x male reader #zed necrodopolis x y/n #zed #zed x reader #zed necrodopolis x you #wally clark #wally clark x you #x male reader #milo manheim #x reader #wally clark x reader #milo manheim x reader #milo manheim x you #milo manheim x male reader #zombies 4 #zombies 3 #zombies x reader #zombies x male reader #zombies x gn reader #fanfic

[heartfullofleeches]

Femboy Zombie Yan with no lips + Monster Darling with no visible mouth unless they are eating-

Zombie Yan: [sighs] Just like everyone else. They always get so grossed out when my lips staring rotting again. That was the worse date this week. Oh well, have fun with everyone else down there for me, okay?

[The zombie finishes unearthing the hole he dumps all of his victims in and turns around to throw in the newest to the pile only to find it missing. A few feet away - a figure with no mouth stands, holding the body in its arms]

Zombie Yan: H-hey! That one's mine, you jerk!

[The creature remains silent - a faint crack heard as it unhinges its jaw, skin pulling and tearing round the area where its mouth would be. Sharp teeth latch onto what remains of the corpse's neck - chewing as the creature quietly stares]

Zombie Yan: C....cute.... I have some fresher meat in the fridge if you wanna hang out sometimes. You probably don't get many kisses either considering you barely have a face. Maybe we can fix that for each other??

[The creature runs off into the woods]

Zombie Yan, giving chase: WAIT! I'm sorry for being so forward! Can we just cuddle first?!

#yandere zombie #femboy yan #yandere #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere x reader

[dr3c0mix]

Eat Your Heart Out

Yandere!Zombie Horde x Male Reader

Cw: Apocalyptic world, nsfw, mention of death, dub-con, poly relationship, gangbang (yup uhuh this is happening)

A terato request by @xweirdo101x, hope you like it! (*´∀`*)/

💀 You don't remember the last time 'normal' was the norm in your life. Bustling streets became barren and gigantic cities were nothing but ruins and hot spots for survivors or whatever monsters ruled the surface now. Ever since the start of the virus outbreak, the world fell apart into something out of an apocalypse movie, where the only rule was survived and pray the infected doesn't find you.

💀 You could remember however, how this all started. not only was it because of a virus, but it was man-made. It was supposed to be humanity's saving grace, a way to cure all ailments and boost the abilities of whoever took it, but it turned out to be a horrific world-destroying disease that ruined the mind of everything it infected. Humans, animals, plants, almost everything mutated into mindless, bloodthirsty monsters.

💀 You winced at the memories of seeing the news on tv, the sight of people running and screaming from infected, their snarls echoing in your mind as the memory of seeing your friends die in front of you one by one flashed in your mind. You groan, knowing how hopeless it was in this world, but your will to live was too strong.

💀 Living in the ruins at was your town isn't so hard, there was always food to scavenge for in the old mall which you lived in, and you were the only one left to your knowledge so there was no competition for supplies.

💀 Although there was a tiny problem...

💀 A small horde of zombies decided to take residence in the mall as well. Unlike their movie counterparts, they weren't heaps of rotting flesh but pale-looking creatures that looked like they didn't eat in days, albeit with bits of their flesh missing but nothing too gross. They still moaned and groaned but at least they didn't smell from a mile away. At first you were very weary of them, but after a certain encounter, you found out they never seemed to be interested in attacking you.

💀 They were surprisingly docile, only getting aggressive at other monsters that wandered in the mall.

💀 You didn't know the virus mutated once again, allowing certain infected to regain a bit of their consciousness.

💀 The horde met each other through wandering aimlessly before bumping into one another, they formed somewhat of a pack or group of sorts, knowing they were all different from the rest of the monsters that infested the world.

💀 You noticed the horde would be around wherever you went, the food court, the arcade, the cinema, it was like they were following you.

💀 Although they never tried to eat you at first sight, you still didn't want a fight with an entire horde, so you avoided them whenever, much to their dismay.

💀 You would then see one of two of them follow you around. You'd be spooked for a bit before realizing they would copy anything you did. You jumped and yelped and the zombie following you would do the same.

💀 The zombie would coo and purr at you, sniffing at the air like a lost pup. You hesitantly put down your weapon and walk closer to him. You get out a soft 'hello' and the zombie gurgles out a 'hi' back, making you utterly astonished, taken aback by the zombie's intelligence.

💀 Ever since then you would study the horde and their behaviors. They all had different personalities which intrigued you further. You decided to give them names as you couldn't just call them 'zombies' all the time.

💀 One with the flesh from his right arm missing was named 'Screw' because of his tendency to collect shiny bits and bobs from the ground of broken objects. He was shy but loved to show you the things he's collected.

💀 Another had parts of his ribs showing, but surprisingly nothing inside was named 'Ribs' as he fiddled with his most of the time. He was curious and a bit hyper, always wandering the most and the fastest among them.

💀 One, which was probably the smartest, had only one eye, which he could move from one socket to the other by tilting his head was 'Soda' because he had the quirk of copying you eating or drinking. One time he copied you drinking a bottle of soda pop and he gurgled in happiness over the fizzy taste. He knew what certain things were if you told him and he recognized objects in pictures like dogs or planes, things you haven't seen since the first wave.

💀 The last and most likely the leader was named 'Bo' as he had a dog tag on him, probably from serving the military when he was human. Despite his stomach being missing he was weirdly strong, always protecting the rest of the horde when there were monsters that were more aggressive than most.

💀 You and the horde quickly grew a bond, sometimes they even found food for you or protected you from danger or even other zombies. You never knew what drove them to be so protective, but you were happy you didn't have to live alone anymore.

💀 You noticed the horde being more affectionate, being found wandering closer and closer to where you usually stayed. You figured it was because they were so close to you until one managed to make its way into the boarded-up store you lived in.

💀 It was Screw looking through your clothes, sniffing and rummaging your shirts and underwear, you remember they relied on smell a lot and assumed he wanted to look for you and followed your scent into your home.

💀 Unbeknownst to you, they were absolutely in love with you. They came to the mall for refuge and found something much better, a lovely little mate to call theirs, one soft and squishy and warm and very very tough, something that is important when surviving in the wastelands. The times where you would touch them whether it was a light brush on their hands or pats on their shoulders of heads were the best. Your warm body making contact with their cold, dead ones.

💀 The horde had enough of you hiding and running away from them all the time, playing a teasing game of cat and mouse with them, they wanted to take care of you don't you see? They won't hurt you! You're their little mate!

💀 Bo sent Screw to track you as he was always the one to follow you around back when they first came to the mall. He followed your scent to a small hole that was hidden behind a dumpster. He crawled inside and was hit with the most powerful smell of your sweet scent he could ever encounter. He coos, knowing he found your little nest.

💀 The others were standing by the dumpster, waiting for a signal from Screw that the area inside was safe for them to enter. Meanwhile you were trying your best to shoo Screw out, scared that he might hurt himself with all the delicate objects and weapons you kept in your home.

💀 Ribs heard your voice and gurgled happily, quickly crawling inside, Bo and Soda going in after him.

💀 You finally got a purring Screw in your hands as you spot the others entering your home through one of the entrances you made. You feel your eye twitch as you try to process what was going on.

💀 Screw was happily cooing in your arms as Soda limps over to you smiling and chittering, his hands on your arms as Bo curtly moves closer to you like a guilty puppy.

💀 You then notice you didn't see Ribs and you turn around as you're tackle-hugged to the ground by the zombie along with Screw, the two of them cuddling and rubbing themselves on you as you try to wriggle out of their hug.

💀 Soda leans down beside you three as Bo does the same, the four undead men now cooing and purring all over you.

nsfw under the cut !!

💀 You try to calm them down until you feel Soda's cold breath on your neck. You shudder as he licks and bites on your sensitive skin, leaving hickies and marks on your neck and shoulders.

💀 Screw sees Soda giving you affectionate bites and cups your face to kiss you. You try to get him off you, but he gripped your thigh in response to your resistance.

💀 Bo claws and grabs at your crotch area as Ribs held your hands, kissing and nuzzling into them lovingly. You let out a moan from all the stimulation and you feel your cock twitch from under your pants. Bo chitters at the tent that has formed and rips off your pants as easy as unwrapping a present.

💀 Your cock springs up as precum runs down from your tip. Bo purrs and brings his mouth to your member, his tongue swirling around it as you feel the purrs in his throat from the taste he's feeling.

💀 Never have you previously considered letting their mouths near you, but now you couldn't help but find pleasure in them kissing and licking you so lovingly, like their viral hunger for flesh was twisted into something more...lustful...

💀 Bo pushed himself off of you and aligned your ass to his now throbbing cock as you hear the scratching of denim and faint zips of zippers being pulled with soft coos.

💀 He prods at your hole with his dick before slowly ramming it in your hole. You felt the others' cocks next to you as you take Screw and Soda's members, pumping them gently, earning gurgles of delight from the two.

💀 Ribs places one of his hands on your cheeks and pumps his cock next to your mouth, asking for consent. You chuckle and open your mouth, making Ribs chitter and thrust his cock into your throat, fucking your face excitedly.

💀 All you could think about was how much pleasure you were feeling, you came many times along with them, your hole getting filled to the brim with their seed. The cold temperature of their skin was merely an after-thought as they held onto you, your warm insides keeping their dicks hard for you.

💀 After you all were done, you were drenched in sweat and your hole was seeping cum, your penis twitching from the overstimulation from the gang bang you were the focus of. They brought you to your bed and huddled around you, they didn't need to sleep but they stayed by your side gurgling to each other how cute and adorable their mate is.

💀 Now you don't really have to leave your little home as they would always keep you gently nestled in the bundle of blankets and soft things they found around the mall. They would take turns with whoever would stay by your side for the day as the rest wandered around in search of food or trinkets to bring back to you and maybe a survivor or two for a little snack.

💀 All in all, they can't get enough of you, and you can't help being stuck with a zombie cuddling you/fucking your brains out 24/7

i didnt mean to write them so asfjnakfeqkgkaeg they are such little meow meows i cant-

#yandere x reader #oc yandere #yandere oc #yandere #terato #teratophillia #monsterfucker #monster x human #monster smut #monster lover #zombie #undead #x reader #x male reader #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x male reader #trans male #x male y/n #yandere x darling #yandere x gn reader #yandere x you #why did i make this #arf arf #bark bark bark #poly x reader #polyam mlm #polyamorous #polyamory #poly relationship

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

Love After Death

Yandere Skeleton x Fem Reader

I’m obsessed with Kate Bush’s song ‘Army Dreamers.’ So I decided to write a story about a soldier who died during a war, but he came back to life just to fulfill his promise of coming home to his lover…

There was a Great War many years ago between monsters and humans. A war that took countless innocent lives all due to the human’s greed. A war that took the life of your lover, Zered. Your childhood sweetheart.

Zered was a young sorcerer from the magic tower. A prodigy and pioneer of magic with a heart of gold. He was the man you had planned to spend the rest of your life with. You wanted to run your fingers through those blonde curls until the two of you were balding and wrinkly. To look into those sea foam eyes until you couldn’t. To press soft kisses against his full lips until your lungs burned. You loved that man more than anything in this world… but the war took him from you.

Zered may have died a hero of the empire, but you couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped its fingers into your heart. Your beloved was no nothing more of a war story. A great sorcerer who was able to take down the dragon enemies to give time for reinforcements to arrive. A war hero. And they couldn’t even bring a single remain of him back to you…

You sighed as you sipped on some homemade ale. Your eyes glanced at the sun’s rays that danced across the hay fields in sorrow. This was the cottage the two of you were going to live in for the rest of your days. The one you’d start a family in that was now cold and empty. It didn’t matter that the sun hit it perfectly each time, Zered wasn’t here.

You rock back and forth in the rocking chair. The birds weren’t singing their melodic tunes like they normally did. Which was odd. Why weren’t the birds singing- you almost screamed when you see a dark figure slink through the meadow towards your cabin. What on earth was an undead doing here?!

You quickly sprang up from your chair and fell over since you were a bit tipsy. Crap. Crap. Crap! You needed to head inside before that creature got to you.

You let out a shrill shriek of terror when the skeleton stood in your porch. Its red eyes stared into your very soul as it tilted its head to the side. Oh god… this was it. This was the end. You were going to be ripped apart by this hideous creature-

You went still when the creature threw itself into your arms as it released weeping noises. The skeleton whined and shook as its arms wrapped around your body in a tight hug.

“H-home. I… home.” The skeleton’s voice was a spin chilling rasp. A small tuft of blonde on its head showed that it was once human.

What did it mean by being home- wait. This cousin possibly be?

“Zered?” You gasped when the skeleton pressed its teeth onto your cheek like it wanted for press a kiss against your cheeks. “Zered, what happened?”

“Home… home.” Zered was barely to rasp out legible words. The skeleton cupped your face in its palms. “Love you… I home.”

#female reader #yandere fic #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere obsession #Yandere skeleton #yandere lich #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere concept #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere fantasy #yandere boy #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere soldier #fantasy #yandere short story #Yandere zombie #monster yandere #yandere monster #monster x reader #yandere drabble #light angst

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yanderes in a Zombie Apocalypse...The Kind Survivor

Imagine the zombie apocalypse starts and suddenly the entire world itself is turned upside down. Those who survive are the ones who can adapt quickly or be lucky enough to be dragged by the former. You re some of the few that adapt turning everyday items into tools and weapons to guarantee your survival. While you could go at it alone you don’t. Shaking your coworker or classmate out of their horror-stricken state and saving them from being eaten. 

“Hey you better move it or you’ll end up just like them.”

Maybe you know you’ll be lonely or that you can’t leave someone behind or maybe it's because it's them. Always so forthcoming and so kind to you before the world turned into this. Maybe you consider this payback for their hospitality, either way, you’re leading them away from the danger to regroup somewhere safe.

“T-thank you (Y/n).”

“It's fine, Wendall. Just keep moving we can’t rest here.”

“Right!”

He’s the Kind Survivor, the one who holds onto his sweet, trusting persona. Leaving you to be the untrusting hardened protector. Your roles become clear as you unwillingly are added to a group of fellow survivors. Of course, it’s him who proposes staying with the team still silently accepting your unspoken alliance. Even when the group discards your opinion for their own plan, he advocates for them, soothing your anger.

“I don’t trust them Wendy!”

“(Y/n) we can’t do this alone! We have to trust in them!”

“Until we can’t. What do you plan to do then?!”

“T-then we can leave. Okay (Y/n)...I’ll start thinking about us….about you more okay?”

“Thanks… I’ll be more open-minded.”

For a while, this will work, with your Kind Survivor becoming an important voice in the group while you gain their respect and reverie. Wendall couldn’t be happier, falling into a sense of normalcy as he watches you grow emotionally. For a while, this feels right. 

But this doesn’t last.

The first betrayal ruins him opens his eyes. One selfish member's actions put everyone at risk but who suffers the most is you. Led out on a fool’s errand only to be swarmed and backed into a corner. Nothing but your wits and survival instincts to let you lead the remaining scouts with you. You’re holed up in a roof for days, forced to stay quiet, stave your hunger, and remain vigilant. As you hoped, Wendall and the surviving group arrive with food and medicine as everyone reunites.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)!”

“Hey, Wendy.”

“Oh, my–(Y/n) you can’t believe how happy I am to see you!”

“...I trusted you’d come…and you did.”

No one’s more happy to be reunited than your Kind Survivor who doesn’t dare relay the frustrating tale of that one’s betrayal. Only holding you close and rubbing his face against your head as he burns your scent into his memory all over again. It's another member who tells you while Wendall lasor focuses on checking you for any and all injuries. You don’t seem all that perturbed–your inclination to trust the others was right—all was well. Sure there was betrayal but you didn’t like that one member much at all so it wasn’t much of a deal to you. The same cannot be said for your Kind Survivor.

“I’m okay Wendy. I’m fine.”

“You haven’t eaten in days I wouldn’t call that fine.” 

“Wendy I–”

“Hush. Eat before anything…please.”

He’s still so sweet. Always so kind. But something's…amiss. The other members feel he’s not the same. Those on midnight watch find his eyes staring at your resting form, not even moving away when they joke with him. When he does turn to look at them, there’s something fiery, something dark lingering behind those eyes before he hides them with his typical amicable smile. They begin to fear him.

“Ah, Wendall-san?”

“What is it? Jjitjg?”

“Uh, nothing never mind.”

The members have a right to. Wendall is dealing with an anger he’s hardly ever experienced. All his life had been a constant string of highs—working his dream job, meeting you, getting to hang out with you. But then the world turned mad which didn’t initially scare him as much as it should. Somehow being saved and haphazardly comforted by you it still wasn’t so bad. He thought the same when you both joined the group. But when that one member betrayed the whole team it shattered him. How could they?! Leaving his (Y/n) out there! When they so courageously followed the so-called leader on this goose chase!? What was his baby doing now while they simply huddled in fear of that one?! How were you feeling being so far for so long?! 

He? He was dying. 

Would you be disgusted that your Kind Survivor was truly contemplating letting all the others die while he went to search for you? Disgusted in knowing that it was he who was behind that one’s sudden psychosis? He didn’t care!

But when he saw your smiling face he was relieved but still fuming. This..band of wretches was why you were bedded for a week. These worthless meat sacks were using up the supplies meant to take care of you. These fleas were eating all the food that should have rightfully belonged to you.

It was a rising resentment. Pushed down and suffocated every time so that he could steer this group right and properly encourage your latest streak of compassion. It made you so much more integral to the group, as a protector and a leader. 

It made his skin crawl. He was so proud of you.

It was another member’s incompetence that puts the nail in the coffin–the entire group’s coffins. Since the death of your old leader the group was out of sync; squabbling and running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Of course, the most incompetent one volunteered for the role; forcefully pressuring the others to follow their lead. It led to chaos. The chaos that relied on you to save everyone again. Again, forcing you to risk your life.

“This–this–this is the second time–”

“That I’ve survived the impossible? Don’t know, guess I’m just the best human shield there is.”

“No! This is the second time you’ve almost died because of them! I can’t–I can’t!”

He snaps. 

You can calm your Kind Survivor all you like but the damage has been done. He’ll bow and apologize to everyone who’s witnessed it. But he’s not sorry. He’s determined. At a moment's notice, he fights to free you from them even if you resist. Physically you might be able to overpower him but he shouldn’t be underestimated. After all your Kind Survivor has learned so much. So many ways to subdue you, so many ways to trick the group; running off with you will be easy. With so much time to plan he’ll get his plan off without a hitch. 

By the time he’s done, you’ll both be miles away from the ruins that were this ragtag team.

“I’m sorry (Y/n)...I thought we’d be safe with others. Now I know we’re better off on our own; where only we can trust each other.”

Your Kind Survivor has grown a lot and he’s learned not everyone’s worth both of your compassion. In fact, he’s made the executive decision to actively keep it and you all to himself.

By any means necessary.

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere zombie apocalypse #yandere survivor oc #yandere original character #yandere oc x you #yandere oc #male yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere survivor x reader #yandere survivor #yandere male oc

[simp4konig]

“𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞.„

𝕲𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖝 𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗-𝖓𝖊𝖚𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 𝟏𝟒,𝟖𝟎𝟕

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐙𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐬𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭, “𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭”, 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐬.

𝐈𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭. 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝?

...

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*𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖! 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧!!! 🔥

*⚠️ 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭! 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭! 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓!!! ⚠️

*𝐂𝐖s: 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐔𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 (?). 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐞. 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐌𝐚𝐣𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 “𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡„. 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧.**

**Let me know if there's anything major that I've missed! ☺️

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“𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭„ ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @rustic-guitar-notes ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @best-soup ☆ @lotionlamp ♡ @trepaika ☆ @luci4theminorannoyance ♡ @nightlyvoids ♡ @skeletalgoats ♡ @aethelwyneleigh27 ☆ @arrozyfrijoles23

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Simon "Ghost" Riley always had been a puzzle you couldn't solve. Always had been, and always was.

Stoic and stone-cold, it seemed, who did not respond with any warmth whatsoever, as a fire was put out in his adolescence, never to be rekindled again.

All that remained of his softness quickly became a hardened shell, ashes and dust from the extinguished flame left behind, not a spark to be reignited ever again.

The mask he wore became who he was, and he became the "Ghost" persona. Simon Riley was no more, and he hadn't been for years; he was Ghost, ghosts of his past forever haunting him, until he himself became a ghost of who he used to be.

So, Ghost was a distant man; which, was also always a contradiction — physically in close proximity to you on the few missions you had been paired with him, shoulder to shoulder with the both of you looking into the scopes of your sniper rifles, yet practically on another continent in terms of relations and closeness.

You were a rookie, and it seemed to you that Ghost viewed you in disdain for that.

With each attempt you made to become closer, he'd retreat back further into his shell. You'd think you'd be able to thaw his icy exterior, at least by mere degrees, yet his melting point grew higher with each interaction, the distance between you growing despite you trying to close it. Him recoiling at each attempt you made to come closer, as if your warmth burned him.

Every attempt at casual conversation was shot down. Stepping a couple of steps away from you, not looking at you at all, he would physically make the distance between you two further apart.

"Keep it tactical," he'd mutter. "If it's not about anything of importance, don't bother wasting my time. You got that?"

"Was only asking how your day was, you know," you grumbled, arms crossed defensively as you looked off to the side, hurt. "What's not tactical about that?"

"I hate small talk. Nothing tactical about it."

With that, he'd storm off unceremoniously, not sparing you even a single glance.

You'd jog after him, the treatment he was giving you making you feel like an unwanted dog. "Sir, hold on—!"

Ghost halted, and you would have crashed into the human wall had you not slipped in the combat boots a size too big for you.

"Not 'sir'." Dark brown eyes narrowed into yours.

"It's Lieutenant to you, rookie. Get that through your thick skull." Turning away from you with his arms crossed firmly across his chest.

"On second thoughts, you could be of use for somethin'."

Side-eyeing you, his words dripped with sarcasm. "That thick skull of yours could be a sniper's worst nightmare."

"Look, si— I-I mean, Lieutenant— I was just wondering—"

"Look, don't waste my time, yeah? Not here to bloody babysit a blooming toddler that can't keep itself busy."

Work with him was kept strictly professional before the outbreak — well, more so "stand-offish" as opposed to professional.

There was no point becoming acquainted. You two were vague associates, had occasionally been deployed together, and Ghost rarely associated with you when if wasn't on a mission, always acting aloof.

"Gotta stay focused, soldier. Especially in these circumstances."

"I'm not a soldier, you know," you remarked, daring to roll your eyes as he had his back turned. "I don't have the training that you have had, or the experience. I'm just a rookie."

"All the more reason for you to stay focused," he repeated matter-of-factly. "So, get a grip, soldier, because that's what you are now. If you don't have what it takes to survive, might as well lay down on the ground and wait to die."

And those working dynamics hadn't changed whatsoever after the outbreak.

The outbreak of a virus.

Almost the whole human population was wiped out by a world-wide epidemic, a plague that could not be cured.

The virus gave those infected the ravishing urge to purge anything living, a diseased mind wanting to spread its disease.

Like a parasite, it sucked out all of your life essence, your conscience fading as your body deteriorated, until had degenerated beyond repair.

Rabid like a stray dog, you would no longer be human. True, you were still you, yet you weren't you, only a monster in human form.

A corpse, violent and violently out of control, driven by animalistic instincts; instincts to kill, and to ravage fresh, human flesh like a savage, ripping apart meat off bone with sharpened canines.

Out of 8 billion people, 2 billion had been killed by the military's efforts to reduce the spread of the disease, while 5 billion roamed infected.

Out of the billion that survived, millions were driven to suicide, and those that remained fought and killed each other like primitives for basic necessities such as food, water, and territory. It was survival of the fittest, though few were fit mentally and many had gone mad. It would make one wonder whether there were any sane people left.

Of course, you and Ghost found out the hard way, when you two were deployed on a mission.

A mission quite unlike the few you had been deployed on before, as you two were retracing the steps of the police, trying to gather information on their whereabouts.

Shortly after police cars had arrived on scene of an emergency, communications with them were lost almost immediately.

And what's worse, was that Shepherd's forces had been supposedly involved in the incident.

You two had been dispatched by helicopter almost immediately, and upon landing, you realised that this would be the perfect opportunity to prove yourself to Ghost.

The place was strange.

Wide streets, dotted with brick buildings. Ominously flickering street lamps. The gentle drip-drip-drip of rain, collecting in shallow puddles.

Something about the streets being so deserted, no lights lit in apartment windows and nothing stirring in the alleyways, put you on edge.

Ghost, on the other hand, was completely calm, laser-focused.

A voice came through his earpiece. One of a female. "Ghost, what's your status?"

"Approximately 500m away from the target area," Ghost said robotically, scanning the surroundings like a machine. "No contact at all, and nothing out of place."

The voice hummed with satisfaction. "Good. Make sure you've got each other's backs. You never know what lurks in the unknown."

"Roger that."

"What lurks?" You asked, turning to Ghost in slight fright. "What does she mean by that?"

"Well," he shrugged. "An ambush, for one. Could be anyone hiding out in these streets. May not be as deserted as they seem."

A shrug. "But then again, you'd know that if y'had some common sense."

You two walked soundlessly ahead, footsteps in sync.

Rain dripped onto your gun, collecting into small droplets of water.

Once, you stepped into a puddle, and as your boot made ripples in the water, you swore you saw something. Something distorted in the water's reflection.

A wrinkled face, with glowing orange eyes, with sunken eye sockets and sullen cheeks, baring it's yellow teeth at you.

About to lunge at you from behind.

Whipping your head around in fright, you saw nothing there, and Ghost shot you a questioning look, a brow raised.

"What's gotten you jumping like that?"

"It's nothing. I just—" You shook your head, shaking off the fright. "—I just thought I saw someone. But there was no one there."

A dry, monosyllabic chuckle from Ghost. "Seeing ghosts, are we? Come on. Get your bloody head in the game, and focus."

You two walked ahead, yet you still couldn't shake off the sixth-sense telling you that something was wrong.

The figure you briefly caught a glimpse of made you paranoid, and you'd look over your shoulder every so often to see if something, that something, was behind you.

Nothing was, yet that didn't make the goosebumps go away, or your pulse to slow down.

Eyes closed, you breathed in and sighed. Almost immediately, you gagged in disgust.

"Eurgh! Lieutenant, do you smell that?"

Ghost quirked a brow again. "What?"

You sniffed again, and retched, tasting vomit in your mouth. "That."

The putrid odour of rotten flesh.

"You're right, I smell it," he wheezed, and fixed his balaclava. "Bloody disgusting. Smells like—"

"A dead body," you whispered.

"Dead bodies," Ghost corrected. "That isn't just one corpse. No corpse smells like that. There's gotta be a heap of these, all rotting away."

A chill went down your spine. "So you're telling me that all of the policemen just... died? On the spot? And they've just been rotting here, despite it bringless than a few hours?"

Ghost shrugged offhandedly. "Sure seems that way, don' it? Though, I admit, I'm jus' as lost as you are on this one."

Sighing deeply, and beckoned you with his head. "Come on. Let's keep going."

Looking back down, you immediately you noticed it.

A thick, magenta mist swirling from the ground and rising into the air, swiftly shifting into shapeless shapes.

It slithered like a snake up your leg, neither a fog nor a gas, but instead behaving like a liquid.

You were mesmerised, and couldn't help but take in in, if not but for a moment.

Out of nowhere, a snarling creature was sprinting straight at you, with those same glowing orange eyes.

Baring its sharp teeth at you, it had a crazed look in its eyes, pupils dilated and its sceleras blood red.

Sprinting straight at you, you realised.

Before it could register to you what was happening, what that thing was, and what to do, a single bullet went through the creature's head, straight through between its eyes.

"Godamnit, soldier!" Ghost yelled. "For Chris' sake, you should have been paying attention. You have a gun, so bloody use it, will you?"

Shook by what you saw, you had to protest: "Yes, but Lieutenant, did—"

"No 'but's," he snapped. "Eyes on the back of your head at all times, don't I tell you enough already?"

Still shaken, you tried again to physically shake off your nerves, in vain, and steadied the rifle in your hands.

"N-no. You're right, Lieutenant. You tell me enough already."

Looking down at the swishing mist, you still couldn't shake off the goosebumps on your arms.

Walking slightly behind Ghost, he suddenly stopped in his tracks, armed and ready.

He held a hand out to tell you to be quiet, and stepped aside.

Your eyes widenened.

Police cars toppled over, some completely destroyed by a rocket launcher, in a circle clumped on one side.

Shrapnel and sharp glass lay scattered on the ground, while guns were carelessly left behind.

Further along, army vans and trucks were parked, abandone. Doors left ajar and windows half-closed, as if the people there had struggled to escape, and left at the last second.

There were thick, black tyre marks from the wheels of one of these trucks leading north, that had skidded rapidly away. Away from something.

Sound of glass cracking under your foot brought your gaze to the ground. Lifting your boot, you saw what looks to be a vial. The contents were empty.

"Bloody hell..." Ghost shook his head, and, calm and composed, put two fingers to his ear piece. "There's been a shootout here, but no bodies. Any updates?"

No response.

Ghost's fingers moved to his earpiece again. "Ma'am, I repeat, there has been a shootout here, but there are no bodies. Do you copy?"

Nothing.

A cold chill tickled your spine, only this time, your body temperature dropped by degrees.

"Lieutenant, something's not right."

"More like everything is not right. Haven't you noticed?"

You gaped at him stupidly. "Wh-what?"

"That there's no bodies. Look around."

Ghost was right — not a single corpse was on ground.

It was as if everyone here had ceased fire and fled, dispersing into all directions, not caring at all whether they had been shooting at each other moments before.

There was sudden rumbling from the distance, and under your feet.

For a second, you thought it was an earthquake at the way the ground shook so forcefully.

You two looked into each other's eyes, Ghost's dark brown ones wide with alertness, while yours were wide in fear.

Soon, it dawned on you that it was not an earthquake. It was the stomping of feet, running in unison. A stampede.

"What the—?"

A cacophony of high-pitched screeching echoed from the othet side of the street.

Finally, you saw them on the horizon.

Dozens, at least fifty or more, were running right at you both.

Some, were limping, their broken leg trailing behind them like dead weight, yet still were driven by the fire in their eyes.

Most, however, were sprinting straight to you with inhuman speed, sprinting faster than any Olympic athlete could have done.

Horrified, you stared, having never seen such a sight in your whole life. If it had not been for Ghost shaking you violently, you'd have stood there, like a deer in headlights, yapping jaws of imminent death just a few yards away.

"Bloody hell, soldier! Snap out of it!"

Rescued from your trance, you had no idea what to do. You hadn't enough magazines to kill so many. There was nowhere to hide, you thought.

"Back to the chopper, now!"

Ghost pulled your arm, yanking you beside him, and you two bolted from where you came, you dropping your rifle in your haste to get away.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins, energising you in a way you had never been before.

Your sudden stamina shocked you, but you had nothing else on your mind, your mind screaming at you to run! Run! RUN!

Your feet were moving so fast that they were a blur. When you dared to look back, you nearly tripped over your own feet. The was horde less than fifty metres away.

Ghost had broken off into a full sprint at the sight of the helicopter, still on the ground, and you had been filled with hope.

Then you saw from the distance that the pilot that had piloted you here was slumped in the front seat. Two zombies had gotten to him and had ravaged him mercilessly, his jugular gushing blood, his collarbone protruding as they tore through skin and muscle.

Without thinking, Ghost pulled them off the corpse, and shot each in the head.

He spared a second's worth of mourning for the man, before pulling him out from the front seat and setting his body at the back compartment.

When you caught up to him, the horde was nearly nipping at your heels. "Fuck, Lieutenant! What are we gonna do?!"

Without warning, Ghost shoved you inside, manic. "For fuck's sake, get inside already!""

Your eyes widened in fear. "Do you even know how to pilot this thing?!"

Ghost slammed the helicopter doors, while you had a death grip on. "'Course I know how to pilot this bloody thing! I was part of the Special Air Service. I know what I'm doing."

Fiddling a little with the controls, and furiously mashing a few buttons, you miraculously got into the air.

The flight had heavy turblence. Ghost nearly crashed the thing into a tall building, yet managed to swerve in time.

And with that, you two were off. Panting, gasping for breath, gasping at the horrific scene that replayed like a movie reel.

Yet, it was awfully quiet, a contrast to the loud thoughts inside your head.

Just the whirring of the helicopter blades and the purring of the engine.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the tornado of thoughts and the narrow escape from storming, snarling creatures all headed for you as fast as whirlwind, metres away from throwing themselves and taking you to the ground, tearing you apart, you calmed. Calmed yourself enough to the point where you were no longer in a hysteria.

"S... Sir?"

He grunted in acknowledgment, not bothering to correct you this time, eyes staring fixedly ahead of him and piloting the helicopter in silent concentration.

"S-so—" Stuttering, because you were shuddering at the premise of what had just happened, shivering from a continuous cold chill and persistent goosebumps.

"—So, uhm, wh-what— what do you think happened back there?"

For a few agonisingly long moments, Ghost was agonising quiet, clearly contemplating what was at hand. The quiet was deafening.

"Listen. If I'd had to hazard a guess—" Ghost began, still staring ahead of him solemnly. "—I'd say those were zombies."

When he turned around to spare you a glance, your dumbstruck expression seemed to frustrate him.

"Fuck, what's with that expression, soldier? If that mouth of yours is open for any longer you'll bloody catch flies."

"Z— zombies?"

Although recovering slightly, enough now to speak steadily, you were dumbfounded.

"Y-you can't be serious. You've gotta be taking the piss!"

His eyes narrowed, and he glared in warning. "Think I've lost my head? Christ, you haven't ever watched a zombie apocalypse movie, or summat? The resemblance was uncanny. Those were not humans."

Tilting your head in confusion and curiosity. "You watch... Zombie movies?"

"Oh for crying out loud—" He pinched his temple in frustration. "—I'm telling you that we're in some serious shit, that there might even be an ongoing apocalypse, and you're more moved by what I apparently watch in my free time? Bloody hell—"

After a thoughtful pause, you turned to him, eyebrows furrowed. Suddenly serious.

"It doesn't make sense, though."

"Sure it does," he growled. "Life doesn't imitate art. Art imitates life. There had to have been inspiration somewhere."

"You're still going on about those zombie movies?" You groaned, tempted to face-palm yet to scared to be so blatantly disrespectful. "No. I mean, why? Why have people become zombies?"

He let out an unamused chuckle. "God, could you be more dense, you?"

"What was the reason we went on this so-called operation? Think. Think this one time, as I can you don't do it often enough."

Rolling your eyes, you immediately froze in the spot, eyes wide.

It hit you, that there could, could, be a connection. If Shepherd's men really were involved in the shootout, then...

"Look, I didn't tell you," you said, swallowing. "I stepped on what looked to be a test tube. Or a vial, I'm not sure. It had purple stains on it."

"A sample of the virus that went wrong?" Ghost proposed. "I suppose it wasn't meant to be airborne. They used it as a last ditch effort to get the cops off their tails."

"How can you be so sure that is what happened? What if it was just a mistake?"

Ghost turned around, arm slung around the back of the adjacent seat, and his eyes were dark. With a mocking tone: "Oh yes, because genetically engineering a virus that causes people to eat other people was obviously a mistake. And the shootout was just a slip of people's fingers."

You crossed your arms indignantly, annoyed, and Ghost took advantage of your offense by continuing:

"By now, they've definitely made adjustments. Engineered it so they have more control over it."

Despite being annoyed, you audibly gulped, your defiant demeanour dropping instantly. "Y-you sure, Lieutenant? I-I mean— how can you be sure of this?"

Wordlessly, dark brown eyes darkening, Ghost said: "Positive."

Turning around, his shoulders tensed up suddenly. "I'm just prayin' that I'm wrong."

For close to half an hour, you two were flying back where you came from.

From afar, the base, with its several camps and adjourning buildings, temporary tents that had become permanent ones due to the lack of time to put them down, military trucks parked in neat rows, vehicles just as they had stood when you departed, untouched, stood like an imposing monolith, despite being far wider than it was tall.

There was none of the usual commotion, however, the hustle and bustle of people rushing to and fro, the stamping of feet and the grunts of effort from the distance as soldiers took part in drills, of purring car engines and whirring helicopter blades transporting soldiers on a distant mission. It was quiet.

Upon landing, you looked back at the corpse in the back compartment, and swallowed air, throat bobbing strenuously.

"Lieutenant... what are we going to do about... him?"

Ghost, after a few moments of studying you closely, murmured: "Take the body back to his family, of course."

You furrowed your brows. "Didn't you say we may be in an ongoing apocalypse?"

Sighing deeply, Ghost's shoulders sank. "I did. But I've been prayin' that I'm wrong, and jumped to conclusions. Maybe this fella has a family to return to. Doesn't seem right to leave him to rot, does it?"

Right at the entrance, you two exchanged an uneasy look at each other. Neither of you were saying a word.

Tentatively stepping through the threshold, you held your breath.

It was a good thing you did. The stench — the odour of death and decay — made you gag.

You had not imagined anything, refused to imagine what it would be like inside. And, inside, it was worse than you could have possibly imagined:

Bodies were slumped against walls, crumpled up in heaps on the floor. Guts were splayed on the floor. Half-eaten intestines and pools of blood, right where the corpses were.

Many had fear stamped on their faces, with wide, frightened eyes and gaping mouths, and flies had been swarming to the soft tissue of the eyes and tongue until they fleed from your presence.

Some had already been infected, dead yet living, and were feeding off the rotting flesh of the victims with a crazed look in their glowing orange eyes, flashing like a cat's.

Their fingers were gnarled. Had skin peeling off their hands, revealing tendons and bone, nails morphed into claws.

Others had not fought without a struggle, it seemed; guns were held by the dead in a deathly grip, empty cartridges and bullet casings were littered on the floor, and some even had grenades in the palms of their hands, having had not reacted quickly enough to pull the pin and launch them at approaching hordes.

Some of the zombies were laying, lifeless, with a bullet between their eyes, others with wounds in their abdomen and chest. Black blood oozed out like sticky goo.

Ghost stood as still as a statue, taking everything in. Wordlessly, he unholstered his pistol and walked towards the nearest creature.

And shot it right in the head.

A mercy kill, to put whoever the monster had been before its infection out of it miserable suffering, its mortal torment.

He would do the same with the rest. A few of them even looked up at him, dazed, not knowing what was coming for them, and hissing malevolently, before a deafening bang rang out and echoed down the hall.

When Ghost was done, he was panting, out of breath as if he had run a marathon.

Although he did his utmost to keep his breathing steady, each exhale was shaky, feeling like at any moment the air in his lungs would vanish.

"The virus," He said through gritted teeth. "It is here. It's real."

Hands clenched into fists, he was actually trembling. "It is real."

For an agonisingly long time, Ghost had his back to you, yet with the way his shoulders were slumped and his back hunched forward, he was forlorn.

Feeling like it was wrong for you to speak up, yoy hesitated, your voice barely above a whisper:

"Lieutenant? What do we do now?"

Ghost didn't respond. His shoulders rose and fell with each shaky exhale, doing everything he could to stay composed.

"...Sir?"

Cautiously, you tip-toe'd towards him, hesistant to speak up again.

He sensed your presence, and slightly turned his head around so he could see you in his periphery.

Surprisingly, Ghost was incredibly calm in the way that he turned to you. His breathing was steady now, and he no longer let out laboured breaths. It was almost like he was back to his usual self. This trauma would become nothing more than a mere memory, another one to stack on top of the memories that were emotional baggage he carried on his shoulders.

Staring straight into your eyes, his voice was quiet, but he spoke directly. Assertively.

"'s you an' me, now, soldier. We're all we've got."

And that was that. That was all there was to it.

You and Ghost were lone survivors.

No one had survived the ambush, despite having double-checked every cupboard, every barricaded room.

Those inside had gotten bit without realising in their bid to stay alive, to survive, and instead of human survivors, you'd be faced with surviving zombies that you would have to put down. One at a time.

Something told you that maybe, just maybe, Ghost's intuition was right.

That Shepherd had unleashed this disease, right here, as a means of destroying their opposition quickly, to clear their names.

After all, with everyone dead or infected by a virus that made them lose the capacity for human thought, who would be there to oppose them?

The reality that likely, very like, this was true, made your stomach churn.

That a corrupt individual with a mega corporation would corrupt humanity rather than bringing salvation, sickened you.

Had he even known the chaos that would ensure?

Ghost, having hauled canisters of fuel into the closest military truck, slammed the door closed.

With you two inside, in a single motion, he started the engine, and pressed his foot on the pedal, pulling out slowly.

In hesitation, for a minute, his hands shook, knuckles on the steering wheel turning white from how tightly he gripped it.

You didn't say it out loud, but you thought it was ironic: hours earlier, Ghost had been hellbent on making his way back to base, had even saved a comrade's corpse with the promise of restoring his dead body to his family members, yet now, he was creating as much distance between it and the both of you as possible, not turning back even once. Could not turn back, as there was no family for that man to be restored to, and no one, no one, to turn back to.

Weeks passed — or were they months? The days merged into one blur, indistinguishable from each other.

Encountering zombies became day-to-day to you. The ones you encountered could be shot straight through the skull. The parasite fed off the brain, feasted off mortal thoughts, yet with just one pull of the trigger it would die on the spot.

Fighting off a third, fifth, seventh, eleventh, nth small horde, no longer struck the same fear in you. You had quickly adjusted to the circumstances. Your new life.

You two spoke little in the beginning. Quite frankly, there was little to say.

How could one approach this subject? Of imminent doom following this global doomsday? Of having lost colleagues, comrades, in a single instant, and not even having been able to help, to even witness it, because you two were assigned on a mission that had been pointless in the end?

Sure, you knew who was to blame. So what? What was there to do with this information? Vengeance was not the answer anymore, as surviving was the priority. Besides, you didn't even feel vengeful. All you felt was numbness, and the burden of this knowledge that should have been forbidden.

Walking through various locations, all abandoned and lifeless, a wave of déjà vu would crash into you, flooding you with memories of what cities used to be like.

Seeing cars all in one cluster, stuck forever in a traffic jam, metal heavily rusted and weak gusts of wind made it all the more eerie. Especially more eerie, given what the cars had been lined up to do. To escape.

The quiet unnerved you. Filled you with dread. You dreaded the silence, yet flinched at sudden sounds.

Echoes of screams were brought by the wind, whimpering voices begging to be freed, begging the callous soldier in front of them not to shoot them, their children, promising that they weren't infected, they swear! Alas, kneeling, facing a brick wall, they'd be shot. One at a time.

The best thing about walking through these locations was that the two of you never saw the chaos, the catastrophic damage, the devastation, all happening in real-time. That, in a sense, was also the worst thing about this apocalypse.

You two were not associated with the events, and, realising that you'd never experience what millions of other people had collectively experienced in those moments, their final moments, left you disassociating for hours at a time, your feet walking on their own.

Something about seeing the cities stood still, frozen in time, a relic of the past, that fateful day of panic and fear preserved in a time capsule, and unaltered. Untouched. So unlike what they had been not so long ago, made you shudder. To think that it used to be lively, full of life, and so lifeless now, was a surreal feeling.

It made you feel out of place. As if you shouldn't have been there.

You had to be there, though. Supplies would rarely last and food in your surroundings was scare.

Ghost seemed to know exactly what to do. He led you towards the dilapidated pharmacies and the rundown convenience stores, most of what was left of the medication and tinned goods thrown onto the floor, piled in heaps.

What remained of past haphazard searches from other wandering individuals, was scattered. It made you wonder whether those people that took the supplies from where you were were still alive, and if not, how shortly after they had died.

Over time, you two became comfortable in each others's company, as you had become so uncomfortable with the mutual silence, you sought comfort in each other's presence.

And, although Ghost wouldn't have ever admitted it, the truth was, he was in desperate need of comfort, too, regardless of who you two used to be to each other before all of this.

Ghost's icyness thawed, and he came out from his shell, slowly.

Soon, though, his sarcasm wasn't directed at you as much, and you two could actually exchange banter, meaningless puns with the most God-awful punchlines, as a past-time.

Warming your hands over a small fire, you'd quip: "Lieutenant, what do you call a dictionary that smokes weed?"

A huff, his attention fixated on handling his rifle, wiping down the remains of a carcass that had splattered onto it. "I'd rather not know."

You had a shit-eating grin on your face, like a Chesire cat's. "High definition."

Ghost's eyes locked on your face, deadpan. "Fuck, that was terrible. I wish we'd go back to the times when you'd say nothin'."

Back to silence you two returned.

A heavy burden was on your shoulders, weighing the two of you down.

Out nowhere, Ghost spoke up. "Y'know why an oven and an microwave broke up?"

You rose an inquisitive brow, tilting your head in interest. "Why?"

"They argued frequently, and jus' overall weren't on the same wavelength."

You were mildly disappointed. "That... was your idea of joke? Really?"

"Hold your horses, soldier. Y'didn't even hear the actual reason as to why they broke up."

A deep sigh, shoulders sinking in an exaggerated movement, and you rolled your bored eyes playfully. "Ugh, go on, then."

In a deadpan voice: "They broke up, because neither of them could be turned on anymore."

"Oh my God!" You groaned. "That was so gross! I can't believe you said that!"

"What can I say?" A shrug, still deadpan. "I'm just hilarious, and you're not. Clearly, you don't have what it takes to be a comedian like me."

"It was not remotely funny at all! Did not even laugh!"

Ghost leaned in, his voice low. "But you're smilin'."

"Okay, okay, fine. It was a little funny!"

"Damn straight, soldier. 'Course it was."

To you, you two were closer.

Although Ghost was still his brooding self, and put up his gruff front, you knew otherwise.

You were shocked by him when one day he told you to drop the formalities.

"Look, having you address me as Lieutenant now seems redudant. Call me Ghost."

"Lieutenant, I—"

"Come on, soldier. I want to hear you say it."

You swallowed. "Gh-Ghost?"

"Thas' it," he said with a drawl. "You're learning. 'S about time, isn't it?"

Yet the warmth that radiated off him now could not be mistaken for anything else.

You thought you two had formed a bond. You really thought you had.

Bonded over the shared fear, the shared experienced, your shared journey to nowhere.

Which is why you hadn't understood why would Ghost leave you for an hour every couple of days.

For exactly an hour, it seemed. You didn't know, because you didn't have a working watch, but Ghost was punctual, so you assumed that it was true.

Like clockwork, he'd leave at a specific time, and come back an hour later, refusing to explain what he had been doing on his excursion.

"Jus' 'ad somethin' to do," he'd reply briefly, and return to what he had been doing before he left.

"This 'something' — couldn't I have done it with you, Ghost?" You'd eye him, hands on hips, eyebrows furrowed in suspicion. "And what is the need for that bag? You're gonna break your back carrying that thing with you all the time!"

Without fail, he would bring along his backpack, which was in all actuality a heavy dufflebag slung over his shoulders. A bag too big to be carrying for a small errand, you thought.

He'd glare at you, and act defensively, huffing. "I can handle it on my own, don't worry your little head, a'right? I can manage."

"You know," You'd say, tone softening. "I worry about you, okay? It worries me not knowing where you are, and what you're doing."

After a pause, his eyes would slowly crinkle in a smile, and his tone would soften, too. "Yeah, but I know where you are, don't I?" His voice dropped to a low murmur, a gentle hand on your shoulder reassuring you.

You were stunned. Here he was, touching you, when he had always recoiled at the faintest brush of a shoulder. You were blushing.

"Just stay put for me for the one hour of the day, yeah? You don't need to worry about me, soldier. I know what to do."

With him gone, you'd be worried sick. You felt not helpless — you trusted Ghost, and knew that he'd protect you — but useless, sitting there idly, practically twiddling your thumbs, not knowing what he was getting up to.

This went on for God knows how long. Each time, he was oddly secretive, and act as inconspicuous as possible so you wouldn't be suspicious of whatever he was doing.

Each time, he had made it back at exactly the same time, hurried footsteps hurrying back to your temporary hideout and going back to cooking a can of something over a crackling fire.

It was so strange, as it seemed to become routine to him, his movements mechanic, and his depature precise down to the last second. Robotic. Like clockwork he'd make it back.

Unable to take the mystery anymore, you followed him. Not close enough to blow your cover, yet far enough so that you'd always catch him taking a corner before he'd walk out of sight.

It wasn't long after walking through winding alleys that you came across a building — the tallest one in the surrounding area, in fact.

Climbing up the staircase, two flights behind him, you reached the rooftop, and watched from afar as Ghost unpacked his large bag.

It puzzled you seeing him take out technical equipment. Cables, a power pack, a rudimentary router. Alongside other hardware foreign to you, mouth agape at the sight of such prehistoric technology, there was radio.

Before you put two-and-two together, there he was, listening to the same radio with bulky headphones, a cracked red bulb blinking weakly.

Intrigued, you creeped a few steps.

When you were behind him, you leaned forward, arms behind your back. "Ghost, what are you listening to?"

He jumped up, startled, and immediately turned it off. For the first time ever, you saw him flustered.

"Was it music?" you teased. "A heavy metal fan whose blown their cover now? Maybe even a trash pop enjoyer? I mean, If you're into that sort of thing, you don't have to keep it secret, you know."

He coughed, clearly caught off-guard by the sight of you expectedly leaning down to him, but shook his head vehemently.

After pulling himself together, he looked you in the eye. "No."

"Aw, then what was it? Were you listening to radio static? It's my favourite song, you know."

"If you're gonna be such a smartass, then there's clearly no need for me to tell you."

You shook your head, smile vanishing. "Okay, wait! I was just messing. Please tell me?"

"I discovered Price's signal," he grunted as a matter-of-factly, quirking a brow at your gobsmacked face.

"Been communicating with him these past few weeks. Said Soap an' Garrick are with him, an' they're still with him."

"Oh my God!" You clasped a hand over your gaping mouth, gawking at him in shock. "That's amazing!"

"Mhm," he hummed. "They've told me their coordinates, and update every couple of days, when the sun is highest in the sky."

"When's that?" You said eagerly. "Maybe I could speak to them, too! Tell me when!"

Shrugging off-handedly. "Depends on the day." he said simply.

Barely able to contain your excitement, you didn't catch on to his innuendo, and couldn't help but exclaim: "So you could regroup! Right? You could reunite with the Task Force?"

A stone-sized lump got lodged in his throat, and his Adam's apple struggled to swallow it.

Yet, he managed to nod, though with his neck so stiff it looked as if he was shaking his head at the same time.

"Yeah, soldier. Yeah. I could."

You furrowed your brows. "Well, what's stopping you?"

"Well," he replicated, "they're thousands of miles away. That's the whole point of this journey, don't you think? What, you think we've been trekking aimlessly?"

Ghost said no more, and you were glad you didn't have to, either, a lopsided smile sheepishly tugging at the corners of your lips.

He busied himself with dismantling his set-up, putting his equipment away.

"Come on." He heaved himself up, and, with a stiff hand on your back, led you towards the way out. "About time we get out of here, hm? I'll see if I can contact the lot tomorrow."

"Okay," you said, grinning. "I daresay, though, your equipment is kinda out-dated, Ghost. Maybe we could pop in the hardware shop for some upgrades?"

He let out a monosyllabic chuckle, the usual for him. "Sure. We could even upgrade our TV to a 4K flatscreen one. Get with the times, and all that."

One day, though, he hadn't made it back at the same time.

Maybe he got caught up in conversation this time. That was it, surely! Surely that was it?

Leg bouncing in agitation, anticipating his return, you had a sinking feeling that this time, however, this time, something was not right.

You could say that you let your curiosity get the better of you. But you wouldn't have called it that, more like your trepidation clouded your rational judgement.

As, turning a corner, you hadn't even heard the feral snarling of a small horde of zombies over the voice incessantly telling you to find Ghost, and had no clue that you'd be pinned down by a zombie.

It lashed and thrashed at you wildly, bearing it's stained rotten teeth and sallow, black gums.

Harsh spit sprayed your face, and to your horror, the others had surrounded you, growling in hunger.

You had mere seconds to act, you knew that. If you didn't pull out your gun in time, you'd be torn to pieces in mere seconds.

Yet, paralysed with fear, all you could do is stare wide-eyed, you felt helpless. You locked eyes with the creature, its naturally orange eyes glowing brightly, possessed.

Just before the zombie's jaws could clasp around your face, it was shot in the head.

The body crumpled on top of you, knocking the wind momentarily out of you.

Peeking over the corpse, there was uproar among the horde, and they all hissed in unison, heads turning in the direction at the shot, before brain matter and bits of skin were blasted by a heavy calibre rifle.

Ringing disorientated you. Only flashes of someone's legs could be seen in your blurred vision, before you realised that you were lying on the ground, an entire pack of wild zombies around you.

Frantic, you heaved the body off you, and struggled to your feet, full of adrenaline, and locked eyes with Ghost.

Ghost was holding off the horde one-manned, and he grunted with effort as he snapped a zombie's neck while using another as a shield, his rifle shooting at a third rushing from behind you.

"For fuck's sake, don't jus' stand there like a bloody git! Shoot, soldier!"

Snapped out of from your daze, you suddenly realised just where you were, you whipped out your pistol and shot as many zombies as you could from close-range in your haste to get to Ghost.

Slitting the throat of a zombie about to throw itself at Ghost, you used up the remaining bullets in the magazine on another, and gritted your teeth as you changed mags with shaking hands.

Back-to-back to each other, you two were overwhelmed by the horde, but the close proximity to each other meant you had teamwork. Worked as a team.

You fired two bullets at two zombies, bodies crumpling into lifeless heaps, and aimed at a third.

Pulling the trigger, no shot fired. No shot was fired.

Looking down, you fumbled with the pistol, you pulled the trigger frantically, yet the bullet was jammed. Panic-stricken, you were desperate for it to fire, in despair to be in this situation, now, of all times.

Just as you looked up and felt the zombie's cold fingers lock on your shoulders in a death-grip, head about to pounce at your neck, Ghost growled and pushed you to the side like a ragdoll.

You saw nothing as you fell to the ground again, but slashed at more zombies in a frenzy, not many left now.

Killing the final one in your periphery, your head whipped around just in time to see Ghost wrestle the zombie to the ground and stomp its head, snapping the final zombie's neck in two like a twig.

Panting. Chest rising and falling, rising and falling, in painful breaths.

Ghost exhaled deep, deliberate breaths, black blood splattered all on his gear, dark blood staining his skull balaclava, his cargo pant legs, his gloved hands.

For an agonisingly long time, you couldn't catch your breath.

Finally, Ghost turned to you, looking grizzly, nearly sinister, had it not been for the dark brown eyes brightening a little and looking at you intensely.

He trudged to you in three wide steps and took you by your shoulders, shaking you a little.

"Soldier! Are you okay?"

Breath hitching in your throat at the emotion in his usually emotionless eyes, you nodded wordlessly.

You took in your surroundings and the horde you two had massacred; bodies contorted in impossible positions, heads and backs snapped in half, limbs broken so that arms and legs looked double-jointed. Orange eyes had become dull, and were no longer glowing, dim.

Looking at the ground, the zombie, its head grey brain matter and black-red mush, lay lifeless, bleeding black blood.

Wordlessly, you two two nodded, and limped back to your temporary base, completely exhausted.

It was a calm night.

A skinned hare roasting over a crackling fire, cooking the out-of-date contents of your tinned food and eating it with a dull silver spoon, you two sat in an uncomfortable silence, which was deafening. A silence that you dreaded.

Yet, the silence was far more welcome than the high-pitched screams and guttural growls of zombies from before, and you sighed deeply.

A sky so black that it cast a shadow on the trees, your surroundings, plunging you into a darkness had it not been for the lifeline of the lashing flames, There were a few twinkling stars in the sky, blinking in morse code, trying to relate a secret message to you that you missed.

With Ghost basking in the orange glow from the fire, looking so thoughtful as his unfocused brown eyes stared a thousand yards, gloved hands holding a flask with a steaming hot stew, warming his cold fingers, your first thought was that he looked alluring.

The skull-print balaclava pulled up to his nose so he could drink, days' worth of salt and pepper stubble sprinkled on his jaw, the sleeves of his hoodie riding up to reveal scars that caked his skin, most deep, some shallow, some recent while most years' old.

To you, he looked handsome.

Then, mortified by this thought, you shook your head vehemently, the warmth on your cheeks coming not from the fire.

Looking down at the half-eaten tinned slop in your hands, you suddenly lost your appetite, and set it aside.

Ghost noticed, and turned to you, about to ask you, but you held up a hand before he could interrogate you.

"I'm alright, Ghost," you said, convincing yourself more than him. "Not feeling hungry."

"You gotta get somethin' down your system, soldier. We've a long journey to go yet."

"I know. I mean, not to be a picky eater, but eating canned slop is not appealing to my taste buds."

Ghost let out a huff. "What? This cuisine not suited to your sophisticated taste, soldier? My bad, let me bring out the caviar, your highness," he deadpanned.

You roll your eyes. "You're hilarious, you know that? If only there wasn't a booing crowd throwing tomatoes at you. You'd be a top-tier comedian."

The corner of Ghost's lip twitched upwards, before he shot you a one-sided smirk. "Knew you'd come around eventually."

You didn't know why, but the way his jaw moved in the smirk was attractive. Physically shaking this thought off, you shook your head with a smile, unable to contain the silent laughter of your shoulders.

Again, you two returned to a silence. Funnily enough, this one wasn't uncomfortable like the one before, even with the light banter moments ago. This silence was unbearable, like the high-pitched screeching of tinnitus in an empty hall.

You stared at Ghost, almost in anticipation, as if it was he who was the reason for the unspoken change in atmosphere, yet he seemed to ignore you, too taken with looking ahead of him thoughtfully.

Swallowing the dryness in your throat, too awkward to initiate conversation, you looked at the fidgeting hands, picking at the dirt under your nails.

When Ghost unexpectedly called your name from the dark, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

"What's wrong, Ghost?" You asked, worry etched into the lines in your face.

"I need you to do me a favour."

At that, your eyebrows rose to your hairline, then furrowed in surprise and suspicion. Ghost, was not, not, the one to ask for favours.

"...O-okay? What's the favour?""

"Look." He stated simply. "I want you to promise me something. You can do that, can't you, soldier?"

You were becoming even more suspicious. What was the need for him to be enigmatic? Your interest was piqued, however, and you nodded wordlessly, hanging on his every word.

"I want you to promise—" He coughed into his fist, clearing his throat roughly. "—that when I'm ever, ever to turn into one of these..."

"...things—" Shivering, which surprised you, given how much heat was radiated from the fire. "—then... Then I want you to shoot me dead, a'right?"

Your jaw dropped to the ground, so taken aback not even by his request, but his bluntness.

"What— what do you mean, shoot you dead? How could I do that to you? I can't—"

"No." He interrupted, definitive. "It will have to be done at some point."

"Of course, I wish I could... avoid, this situation, but, inevitably, it's inevitable," he grimaced, tugging at his collar in an awkward gesture that was unlike him.

"And you have to do it when the time comes. No hesitation. No second-thoughts. Just pull that trigger, and put one right between my eyes."

Ghost stared at you, eyes stern. "Now promise me."

You stammered. "B-but—"

"No. Promise me now. That you'll protect yourself from the monster I'll become."

"Ghost—"

"No, promise."

His eyes penetrated yours, his gaze inescapable and domineering. Clearly, he would not let you weasel your way out with any weak excuses, or your pathetic reasoning. It was evident that no matter what you were to say, Ghost would refuse to listen, only becoming more dismissive.

Reluctantly, you found yourself nodding, breathing out a breathless: "I promise."

Ghost hummed in satisfaction, pleased, and said no more.

"Good. See, wasn't so hard now, was that, hm?" He asked, yet you said nothing.

"Hey, cheer up..." Tone softening, as he reached a callous hand to place on your knee in an attempt to reassure you. "It's not like I'm asking you to do it now."

You sniffed fiercely, eyes glassy. "Then why would you ask me in the first place?"

"Why? Because at some point, I'll turn."

He shook his head. "It won't be you, though. Never. I would never, ever, let you get bit."

His breath hitched in his throat, and your eyes widened slightly in surprise.

Ghost took a sip from his steaming flask, seemingly unfazed by the sensation of burning on his tongue. In fact, he even relished in it.

His lips were tightly pressed together into a needle-thin line. "When you shoot me, you won't be shooting me, y'know."

"Therefore, you must not let your emotions get in the way. What's the point of me getting infected, in an attempt to save your life, only for me to kill you in death?"

You pondered this over for a moment. "What makes you think you'll get infected saving me? Maybe it could the the other way around. You can't be so sure."

Ghost's eyes had an ironic glint, and flickered like a light bulb about to blow a fuse.

"Oh, trust me. I'm sure."

You sat up, straightening your back. "Hey, what is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, it's not s'pposed to mean anything."

"Hey! Are you mocking me?"

For the first time in this conversation, Ghost chuckled. He couldn't help not to, with how childishly you were acting.

"Maybe a little bit. But you just make it so easy for me, that I can't resist."

You groaned, and rolled your eyes.

"Well then, maybe resist being an ass."

Ghost quirked a brow at how you spoke, yet decided not to scold you like he always did. Instead, he offered you his flask.

"Will put hairs on your chest."

You scrunched your nose at the contents. "Let me guess: carbonated piss, vodka, and liquid shit? My favourite."

"Made an order at a cafe, and I got served this slop," he shrugged. "They even spelt my name wrong. Would you believe that?"

You shook your head in mock disbelief. "Unbelievable. You better have gotten a refund for that."

"I didn't pay. Made a beeline for the exit. I wouldn't pay a cent for this shit."

Unable to keep up the act anymore, you snorted, and stifled your silly giggles by clasping a hand over your mouth.

"It's tea." Ghost said. "I'm not thirsty, anyways."

"You gotta get somethin' down your system," you said in an over the top gruff voice. "Promise to shoot me when I get a papercut. I won't be able to go on—"

Wordlessly, Ghost placed the flask in your hands. The fact that instead of a scowl on his half-masked face was an ironic smirk surprised you, and he said:

"Drink that, and go to sleep, yeah? I'll keep watch."

"What about you, though?" Your eyes frowned. "Won't you sleep?"

"I'm good. I'm a light-sleeper, anyways, and I won't exactly get a wink of shuteye with your snoring."

"Hey—!"

"C'mon. Rest up."

Taking a swig of the hot beverage, you felt a warmness wash over your body, cleansing your soul, and heating you right from your fingertips to your ears.

"Thanks, Ghost," you said with gratitude. "You sure you'll be okay tonight?"

Ghost nodded, staring deeply into your eyes.

You sighed, and moved off the wooden log to unzip your sleeping bag to nestle inside, like a worm comfortably in a cocoon.

It didn't take you long to fall asleep, as the crackling of the flames lulled you to sleep, whispering in harsh, yet warm voices a bedtime story in the language of fire.

When he heard your soft snores and saw the way your sleeping bag rose and fell with each muffled breath, he untied his boot laces.

With you asleep, he finally dared to peel the coarse fabric that had dried with blood, like cardboard on his skin.

Wincing in pain as he pulled up the material coagulated with blood, his calf had an evident bite mark.

The skin around it had not rotted, yet, but was raw, with the surrounding flesh pulsating as if it had a human heart beat.

Gritting his teeth with each maggot that he picked out from his calf, burrowed deep in his flesh, feasting upon it, he blinked indifferently at the wound, already accepting of his fate.

The bleeding had stopped. That much Ghost had going for him, at least.

Stomping on that zombie's head was cathartic. Watching its brain matter splatter on his boot, a lifeless body with a head of grey, slimy mush, brought instantaneous relief.

Yet, when reality sunk in, and he realised that killing that zombie in that heated moment would not take back the bite mark, that moment of relief transformed into the weight of an even heavier burden on his shoulders, an added weight to the emotional baggage he had been lugging for years now.

His gaze turning to your concealed body, burrowed in your nest, he hobbled over to lay his own sleeping bag over you, and took off his coat. Tucking in the sleeves under you so you were cozy, he sighed again, and slumped on the ground some metres away.

How was he going to break this news to you? You were a smart cookie, even with the shit he gave you all of the time, and were bound to figure it out on your own.

But he couldn't. Not yet, anyways. He still had a base to get you to.

He couldn't burden you with this information. He couldn't.

Only when the end was in sight, the base on the horizon, you headed straight towards civilisation, could he make his peace with shortcomings, the way you'd sob and shout at him, how you'd curse as your fists pounded at his chest, voice so hoarse and choked with tears all you'd be able to do is sob.

Or, maybe he wouldn't at all.

Maybe the gentle breeze in your hair, sun reflected in your rolling eyes that were unamused by another humourless joke, dry, unwashed skin positively glowing in the setting sun, the cracked lips twitching in a desperate desire to stretch into a smirk, and the way your body was hunched over under the weight of your heavy backpack, head bobbing in blind, naive determination to reunite him with his team, to have been there on the journey, was not a sight he had wanted to taint.

He'd tell you to walk straight, and you'd babble obliviously on about something, and slowly withdraw from your side. You'd get swept away by the crowd in the base, with familiar faces, arms hugging you from all sides and welcoming you with warmth, as a shot rang out in the cheerful commotion, his cold body laying on the even colder ground.

When the time came to it, he would have likely said nothing. A selfish need to preserve the memory of your not knowing, of your being blissfully unaware and never being burdened with the truth, was a mercy.

Just how it would have been a mercy kill for you to shoot him when push would come to shove, just was it merciful to spare your sanity and your innocence.

When you woke up, Ghost had slowly started developing symptoms of a common flu in the night.

Nothing too alarming, yet alarmingly out of character for him to be unwell, and you raised your alarm.

"Jus' pnuemonia, soldier," he'd say, voice hoarse, before coughing into his fist.

"What about these?" You insisted, taking out medication from your backpack. "And plenty of rest? Doctor's orders!"

"These drugs that the doctor prescribes don't ever work on me. Besides, we've got places to be. I'm not wasting my time in waiting room."

This time, Ghost's sarcasm didn't amuse you like you always pretended it didn't. Worry gnawed at you from the inside like a parasite, and your eyes were pleading. "Not even for me? Please? Jokes aside, you really should rest. It's fine if we cam out here for another few days or so.

At that, his eyes softened. "Gonna 'av to bear through it. Like I would have otherwise. 'S not the end of the world."

There was an undertone to his words that was so subtle you hadn't noticed. The ironic smile betrayed nothing.

Not the end of the world for you, it wouldn't. For him, it would. His life on this world would be over. Would end.

The next day, Ghost slurred his speech.

When Ghost was speaking as you two were hunched over some grub, you'd catch drool running down his chin and collecting in pools on the sides of his mouth.

As soon as he realised where your eyes were looking, Ghost immediately went to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

He ate isolated from you then onwards, and would have his back turned to conceal his eating.

Sinking his steel bat into a head of an approaching zombie, he'd grunt with effort now.

Ghost, trudged rather than walked, stomping his feet, as if each foot weighed a tonne and was a weight he had to lift each time.

Feet faced in opposite directions, perpendicular to each other, and legs wobbling as if sea-sick. It meant that he was limping, as if he had a walking impediment.

"Ghost, are you okay?"

"Twisted my ankle when we were fighting that horde," he hissed through gritted teeth, voice as monotone as always. "Don't worry about me, soldier. We're going to get you to that base."

You started. His ankled hadn't been twisted when you were running away just now. But, you reasoned, it was probably the adrenaline that kept him going, that had heightened his senses yet numbed the pain.

Then, you halted in your tracks. "Base?"

"Cap'ain's base," he clarified. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

He was limping. Walking like he was ineberiated, core off balance and like his legs too long for his body.

He was no longer as affectionate with you. Showing signs aggression, getting frustrated with small-talk. He'd rather grind his jaws in silence, nearly growling.

"Hey, I just— I wanted to thank you. For saving me. I mean, that day, when we were fighting that horse. You saved me."

He grunted. "Don't get used to me saving your ass all of the time."

"I won't! Really, Ghost, I'm grateful. I couldn't put it into words."

"But?" He snapped. "Spit it out."

"W-well— I mean, you should rest. For Christ's sake, you're barely able to walk! Your ankle isn't going to heal if you keep putting pressure on it! And on top of the that, you're fucking sick!"

"I've had worse. It's not like my foot will dislocate itself on its own." He snarled. "Besides; choices have consequences. I chose to save you. I could turned, and left you to the horde. But I didn't. And that had its consequences."

"Had? What are you on about? You mean has, because you damn near broke your fucking leg! You're close to a fucking cripple!"

"I can walk just fine, soldier. You're just overreacting."

"I'm overreacting?!" Your eyes bulged out of your head, and you almost erupted in fury. "Then how will your team react, seeing you like this, huh? You think they won't be overreacting, huh?!"

He gave you a death glare. "You're right, soldier. They won't be."

"Look..." you began hesitantly, wincing at his sharp voice that stabbed a dagger into your already breaking heart. "You won't die if we don't make it there by this week," you insisted, "so, won't you please rest?"

"Soldier, I won't rest until we make it there by this week." He'd smile his iconic ironic smile, one that you still couldn't interpret nor comprehend as to why. "We've not long to go. And then, I'll consider resting."

"You promise?"

He stiffened up, still as a statue.

"I don't make promises," he grunted, and stormed off.

Your heart sank.

"Hey!" You jogged up to catch up with him, taken aback by his sudden change in character. "Why not? It's not even life or death, like the promise I made to you! What's the big deal?!"

"I can't make promises," he stated as a matter of factly, almost as if it was common knowledge and he was putting it in simple terms for you to understand.

You were seething. "What do you mean you can't?!So I made you a promise, promised to shoot you, for what? For you to end up being a fucking hypocrite?!"

"I mean," he emphasised. "It's not in my moral code."

Almost grinding your teeth in frustration, you quipped back: "Just as it is immoral of you to withhold information! What is so immoral about you—"

Your heart sank so, so much deeper, so deep it was lost in an abyss.

In deep water, drowning.

It couldn't be true. Couldn't be.

"Oh my God."

You took two steps back. Not in fear of Simon , but in fear of the situation itself.

"...You're... y-you're bit, aren't you?"

Shoulders tensing up, Ghost moved his hand towards your shoulder in an attempt to placate you, but you flinched.

"Y-you're bit! Oh my fucking God, you're—"

You couldn't breathe. It was like you were suffocating, your head underwater.

For the first time ever, you understood the irony behind Ghost's smile.

Hyperventilating, you recoiled at each of his attempts to console you, refusing to allow him to.

"Won't you calm down, soldier? It's alright."

Ghost was beginning to lose his temper. "Calm down," he hissed. "We can talk about this."

"FINE! Let's fucking TALK!"

Ghost was walking ahead of you, walking so fast that you were out of breath jogging after him.

Doubled-over wheezing for oxygen, you looked up with a heaving chest. You two had reached a wide warehouse, making up for its lack in height it its width.

The metal around the door hinges had heavily rusted to the point that it took kicking a side-door down until it finally gave enough lee-way to slither inside through the small gap made.

Brown eyes darkened, and narrowed at you. "Inside."

You shot him a scowl, tempted to give him the middle finger, but backed out at the last second, realised it would be childish.

As you two were inside the warehouse, the bolt tightly shut behind you and all windows and doors locked, ensured that the place was completely abandoned, and barricaded the entrance as a safety precaution... you two got into a screaming match.

"SO?! Are you going to FUCKING tell me why you chose to say nothing?!"

"About me being bitten? Really? And what would me having told you sooner changed, huh?"

"Uh, HELLO! You're fucking infected! You were bitten by one of those zombies, and that was, what? A WEEK ago?"

"It was because this is the exact type of interaction that I was dreading. For fuck's sake, rookie, I knew you'd blow y'fucking lid like this! What sort of a soldier bloody are you if you can't fucking calm yourself?"

"Oh, me?! Blow MY fucking lid?! How fucking dare you! You're the one always calling me a fucking soldier when I'm not!"

"Fuck, don't you get it? It's your own damn fault for being so goddamn reckless!"

You seized up, eye twitching. Positively seething.

"What— what did you say?"

"For fuck's sake, I told you, didn't I? I fucking told you to stay put!" Ghost yelled. "There of course had to be an itch in your ass and of course you had to go bloody wandering, straight into danger!"

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "What, so you're fucking blaming me for you being infected? Is— is that it?"

"Wait, no—" Ghost immediately backtracked. "—you're misinterpreting what I fucking told you!"

"No, I interpret it loud and clear," you said, tone dripping with venom. "It's my fault. I get it. It's my fault for wanting to get involved. My fault for fucking caring about you, because I was worried sick and worried whether this outing would be your last—!"

Tears of fury were streaming down your faces in rivers, a waterfall of emotions all crashing into you at once.

You sniffed angrily, and avoided his eyes, feeling vulnerable. "I-I— I care about you, Ghost! Don't you get it? I have always cared!"

"I just guess—" Your wobbly, cracked voice, blotchy cheeks, quivering lip, and puffy pink eyes made you look pathetic, you knew.

You didn't care. Feelings pent up for far too long now came hurtling out along the floodgates, and you were in utter despair.

"—I-I just guess I never should have cared, should I?"

Ghost stared at you with a steely gaze, stoic and remorseless.

"Well. I told you to keep work strictly professional, didn't I, rookie? What can I say, aside from, it's your own fault?"

He stormed off before you could call after him, slamming the nearest door in this workhouse and locking it from the inside.

You sobbed, feeling more pathetic than ever, and crumpled on the floor in a disgarded heap, like a pile of trash.

Ghost slammed his fist against the door.

"Goddamnit—"

Keeping work strictly professional his ass.

He fell in love with you. How could he not have?

Always trying to hard to break down the walls that he'd stubbornly keep building, brick by brick, you tore down those walls.

Like a human bulldozer, you demolished his reinforcements, and his bare scaffolding, his vulnerability, were exposed to you.

The moment him and you returned to base, he was hit with a gut feeling.

That, at that moment in time, it was truly you and him left. There was no one to save, no one to save you. No one to save you, aside from him. Realising that it was he, he the only one who could get you to safety, and no one else.

And he hated you.

It wasn't a hatred, or a loathing. You gave him no reason to, and were none the wiser.

He never hated you, never. It was you that he hated, the one that broke down his reinforcements and rekindled the fire inside that had been ashes.

With every time he pushed you away, kept you at arm's length, he found himself pining for you more.

And he hated you. Hated you because he loved you.

He hated your voice because it soothed him like a mother's voice would her own child.

It didn't matter when you cursed, when you hissed harshly at him in a mock anger, when you sniffed and your nose twitched. All these things about you made you human, and he realised that even if humanity was lessened, humanity was less, there was still humanity in you.

And it made Ghost feel not like a ghost, a haunting phantom, of the Simon Riley he was, but the Simon Riley he ought to be. Your Simon Riley.

He hated you because you made things all the more difficult for him. If he just was to push you away, to distance himself, he thought, surely your inevitable parting of ways would be less painful.

But it didn't get any easier. Not at all.

If anything, seeing the dejected expression you would fail to hide in time, the way the sparkle in your eyes dimmed just a little after getting rejected once more, meant that gnawing guilt ate Ghost from the inside out.

He reasoned that he was doing all of this for your own good. For his own good, too. No strings attached, with no attachment to you, your parting of ways would have been easier.

But it was this act he insisted was selfless, that was selfish. The fact of the matter was, he needed you as much as you needed him.

He hated that you made him feel this way because these feelings were dangerous.

At any moment, at any point in time, you could be ripped away from his callous hands, leaving a void that was already empty as it was.

Emptiness inside of him that only you could fill, feelings which would never again be fulfilled with you gone, and he could not bring himself to admit that regardless of how much you needed him, it was him that needed you.

Most of all, he hated you because you were the only good thing that he had left.

If you were to die, there would be no reason for him to keep living.

Yes, he had told you that he was on his own mission to track down the Task Force, but, he had known long ago that it was just a delusion he was playing into, an insane idea that managed to keep him sane as it gave him some purpose.

It was a lie he spoon-fed you, forcing you to believe in a lie that he himself was beginning to believe in, realising that at the end of the road, was would be nothing left for him.

Ghost lived for you and did everything in his power so that you too would keep living. You were just a rookie, had your whole like ahead of you, and deserved to live past his own years. Deserved to live, and outlive a person like him, as he knew that he didn't deserve to.

With that logic, he just never knew that he was willing to die for you, too.

He had cheated death once. Faced the Grim Reaper and spat in his face.

But not this time.

He swore he was hallucinating the cloaked figure in the corner of this room right now, sneering, domineering, with glowing orange eyes.

This time, he wouldn't claw his way out from his grave, the taste of blood and dirt repulsing him in his mouth and his limbs weary, yet tasting the sweet, fresh air of freedom; this time, all that he would ever taste is the dirt. Buried for good six feet under a nameless tombstone marking his grave.

As he saw his bruised leg pulsating, he couldn't control the unnatural tics, his calf twitching as maggots swarmed to feed on his decomposing flesh.

Whole body spasming painfully, his arms and legs jittered as if his limbs as if they had a severe form of arthritis, yet each involuntary contortion of his limbs brought agony, agony, agony.

The bags under his eyes had gotten bigger, hollow eye sockets with milky white eyes that had a thousand yard stare now.

Deep grey veins bulged out of his hands to his forearms, all the way past his biceps, shoulders, and neck. Throbbing in rhythm to his synthetic pulse.

Pupils were sensitive to light, and had adapted to the darkness.

Skin was far paler, sallow and sickly-looking, sagging in places and skin cells starting to peel off.

And, despite the layers of clothing he had on — a tank top under his shirt, a jacket, a hoodie, and a tactical vest, all underneath a thick winter coat — he was freezing, and constantly shivering from the cold.

Constantly cold, cold, cold.

The realisation that he was watching himself decomposing into a corpse in real-time was a horrific one.

Few times could Ghost admit he was horrified, as he had become desensitised to horror after his exposure to it from a young age, witnessing horror beyong imaginable that he was wholly unfazed by.

This, however? It was not horrifying. It was torture.

His brain, however, had self-awareness in tact and sufficient enough for rational thought.

His limbs did not do what he told them to do, though — would seize up, as if having an epileptic seizure, the feeling of writhing on the ground in agony as he was also electrocuted, imparting his movements.

It took every fibre of his being to hold off the urge to take your body in his claws and to rip it apart with his teeth.

He was a prisoner of his own body, unable to break free of the virus consuming him from the inside out, the way his cells were mutating alternating his strings of DNA, his code, coding for an intense desire for flesh. For your flesh, because you were the closest living being in his proximity.

Not to mention, that his teeth were decaying, too. Black gums bleeding, yet tongue salivating excessively even though he'd have thought his body physically incapable of producing saliva.

He yearned to bite into a chunk of your flesh, to lick his dry, coarse lips, his mouth stained with the sweet taste of your blood.

To chew on the meat of your neck, and watch in fascination as a fountain of blood sprayed from your neck like a hose, blood splattering on the walls as you screamed in agony, struggling in vain to push off the crazed monster—

Ghost let out a shaky sigh, and after a moment, regained his composure.

Looking back now, Ghost could have amputated his leg. He felt the jaws close around his ankle and sink his teeth to his bone at that exact moment, felt his skin, muscle, flesh, be torn apart by sharp canines.

As soon as you two were safe, he could have hacked off his lower leg with a saw at the abandoned warehouse you two were camping outside that night that he would have surely been able to find, no matter how rusty and the bluntness of the sharp blades.

But why? Why butcher himself? What was the point of doing all that in a frantic effort to cease the disease infecting his entire body when he'd be crippled?

He wouldn't be able to protect you. Instead, he'd be dead weight and drag you down. A burden that you'd be burdened with.

You were skilled, intelligent, and lucky, too. Yet you were only human. Your luck, as plentiful as it was bound to run out.

And, through no fault of your own, a gang of deranged lunatics would ambush you and kill you if it meant they could divide your possessions amongst each other, a horde of zombies would come storming in like a mass hurricane and devour you when you were at a dead end, succumb to starvation or, you would succumb to an injury like he was succumbing to.

He couldn't let that happen. He had to keep going, would only rest in peace when he knew you were at a secure hideout, a safe location, free of danger. At that, he'd gladly pass away, his mission completed.

And his mission would never have been completed if he had been hobbling with makeshift crutches, holding on to your shoulders for support, weighing you down with his weight and having been powerless had a zombie, zombies, found you.

Then again, he couldn't have blamed them. Just one sinking of teeth... just a small chunk of the juicy meat of your thighs or arms... j-just to quench his thirst for human flesh—

Ghost punched his arm, hard.

No. He couldn't.

The temptation was becoming too great to resist.

He could overpower you, could, but he could not do that.

To you, of all people. His love.

He had shut the door in your face. It was like driving his own dagger through his own heart at your forlorn face, but it had to be done. His love for you was dangerous.

Having these thoughts was dangerous. Not just thoughts to kill, but thoughts to kiss you, just once. Just once, before he died.

How he would have had liked to feel your lips on his, to bite down on your lower lip.

Harder, and harder, until he pried your mouth open with inhuman grip and snapped your jaw, ripping your gums with his own teeth, oh so delectable—

Ghost hurled the lone chair in the cellar.

"Godamnit!"

He was self-aware, but not self-aware for rational thought. Not anymore.

Only minutes ago had he been thinking straight. Now, he couldn't differentiate his desire for you, between his desire for your flesh.

Calmly, he limped towards the turned-over chair in the corner and set it straight, and slumped on top of it, feeling like a sack of potatoes.

It pained him knowing that the last time he would see your face would be frowning, your lower lip quivering, chin and cheeks blotchy from the salty, bitter tears of your argument.

You would blame yourself, would go on thinking that this was your fault.

It was never your fault. Never.

It was never your fault that he got bitten.

It was never your fault that he loved—

"Ghost?"

Your voice was shaky, hoarse with tears. At any moment, it seemed, anything to trigger you would cause your emotions to tip over in an explosion of anguish, and you could maintain your composure.

"Ghost. P-please come out. I'm sorry."

A muffled voice on the radio spoke to Ghost, yet he said nothing in reply.

Putting your ear to the door, the loud noise obscured much of what you could hear from the other side of the door, meaning you had no idea what was going on in there.

Yet, if you really, really concentrated, then you'd hear vague shuffling in the room, heavy footsteps moving things.

"Ghost? Please. Please come out."

You still waited.

Waited for Ghost to say something, anything, anything at all, to hear him respond, reply, acknowledge your presence at the door, to at least acknowledge the voice on the radio.

By the sounds of it, the voice was beginning to get emotional with Ghost's unresponsive state, his lack of reply, and it began emphatically ranting about something, all unintelligible from your side.

Slumping on the floor, your back to the door, your chest rose unevenly with each inhale, fell as unevenly with each mournful exhale.

You hadn't thought you'd really be mourning.

As, a sickening crack behind the door suddenly brought you to your senses.

Panic-stricken, you banged on the door with your knuckles. "Ghost, Ghost! You okay? Ghost!"

Knocking turned to hammering with your fists, afraid and desperate at the same time. Yelling repeatedly: "Ghost! What happened?" "Are you okay?" "Can I help?" "Ghost, please. Please!" "Say something!" "Please!"

The door would not budge, and no noise came out. Ghost would not respond. Or maybe he couldn't.

You resorted to kicking the door, using your entire body weight to tet it to open. To no avail.

"F-fuck—" Too desperate at that moment to care about the ringing from shooting from close-range, your hands scrambled for your pistol and shot the door handle multiple times, grimacing when high-pitched ringing in your ears was splitting your skull open louder than you could have anticipated.

Miraculously, the handle fell off. But something was in front of the door, and even with your entire body pressed against the door, the door stayed put.

Full of adrenaline at having made some progress, in your blind haste, you hurled your entire side to the door.

And, the door slid an inch, a vertical line revealing little in the room aside from the light from the awning window. It was progress.

Energised by this sudden success, you became a makeshift battering ram, not caring for the grey and green bruises already that had surely formed already all on your side.

Inch by stubborn inch, the door moved outwards.

The door flung open, and what had obstructed the door — a tall metal filing cabinet — crashed onto the ground, with yellowed paper spilling on the ground, fluttering like butterflies.

At the sight before you, you froze.

There Ghost was, sitting cross-legged on a chair.

That same skeleton mask, the same gear, the same body, true, but it wasn't him. Not anymore.

The sickening crack you heard moments before made sense now.

His jaw, dangling inanimately, was off-center. It was completely broken.

Dislocated, it seemed, through brute force. Broken with his own hands, his hands shining with wet, black blood.

His neck was strapped to an unfolded metal chair by his own belt. His chest and waist also were binded to the chair, but with with thick rope, tied intricately initially, then had devolved into a sloppy loop when the task got too fiddly.

His arms, likewise, were strapped to the arm rests, wrists handcuffed for good measure, yet Ghost's left forearm had broken out from his restraint, and his nails had scratched metal, deep claw marks in the armrest.

The radio had been loud. Loud, so it obscured the sound of his struggle.

You suddenly doubled over, hands on your knees, thinking that you were about to vomit.

It hit you, that he had been doing this while you had stood there, idle, none the wiser.

Immediately imagining Ghost thrashing around in this chair, fighting the spread of the disease, all the while you sat there idly and ignorantly, you regurgitated what you had eaten, tasting vomit in your mouth.

You gagged, groaning in disgust, but swallowed it all in one go and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

Torn between looking at Ghost and not looking at him at all anymore, you found your gaze gradually going down.

His ankles were also bound to the chair legs. One of his calves, however, was completely decomposed, to the point that you could see his tibula and the tendons in his foot.

An airy gasp escaped you, silent. No sound came out.

The skin around it had deep black veins, and had frayed, decayed, oozing a slimy pus, with maggots feeding off the rotted flesh. Already, flies had swarmed around his corpse through the open window.

It was clear. Using his last remains of sentience, what remained of his consciousness, his humanity, Ghost tied himself to this chair.

Yet, something must have told him that this wouldn't last. His belt, the ropes, and even his handcuffs wouldn't have been enough to hold him back.

As a last resort, be broke his jaw. You knew immediately why: as a final precaution, in order to prevent himself from infecting anyone. From infecting you. From biting you.

You were unbelievably calm processing all of this. Too devastated to move, you now understood the voice that was speaking to Ghost on the radio.

It was as if the sound was on mute, your world at a stand-still, and some higher power had unpaused this moment. Like some cinematic choice made by a director.

And the plot twist, was that it was neither the voice of Soap, Price, or Garrick. This was a stranger, a female, speaking:

"—a safe zone. Here, there is safety, and we can guarantee your protection."

You recognised that voice. It was the female commander talking through Ghost's earpiece.

"Humans have not yet gone extinct, and humanity in our safe zone exists.

"To anyone that is out there, you are welcomed. We will welcome you with open arms and tend to any and all of your wounds.

"You will be fed, will be given shelter, and will be a member of our community of survivors.

"If you are hearing this, our coordinates are ***°**′**″ N, ***°**′**″ E. Keep this channel on. We can track you, as long as you play this message.

"Every day, we broadcast this message at 1200 for an hour, just as we have done yesterday, the days before, and will continue to do so tomorrow.

"There is a safe zone. Here, there is safety, and we can guarantee your protection.

"Humans have not yet gone extinct, and humanity in our safe zone exists. There is food, water, warmth, and shelter. Close to seventeen thousand of us have regrouped — civillians, farmers, teachers, doctors, scientists, soldiers — and are rebuilding civilisation a day at a time.

"Your background does not matter. We take in anyone able-bodied and fit to contribute in any way possible.

"We have a pharmacy, with medication, with antibiotics, with inhalers and with insulin.

"To anyone that is out there, we will take you in, and you will be protected. You are not alone.

"I repeat, If you are hearing this, our coordinates are ***°**′**″ N, ***°**′**″ E.

"Every day, we broadcast this message at 1200 for an hour, just as we have done yesterday, the days before, and will continue to do so tomorrow—"

You shut off the radio.

Ghost had been lying to you.

Lied to you about the Task Force. Lied to you about the journey you two had been making.

Had lied about having been bitten, and it was only through chance that you had found this out.Ghost had been lying to you all this time.

You broke down in hysterics, your calmness taking a 180 all in the duration of seconds.

Why, why? Why didn't he tell you? Why couldn't he just tell you?

This whole motive, the reason to keep going, was all a lie. A pretense.

It was a selfless act, yet to you it, couldnt have been more selfish. How dared he keep this from you? How dared he? Why didn't he tell you the truth?

Curse you, Ghost! you thought, wailing in pain as hot tears cut your cheeks.

Vision blurred, you looked up, stricken with grief, and glanced into those milky white eyes of his.

For a moment, a wave of serene had crashed into you, and your crying calmed. Mind was tranquil.

Ghost wasn't thrashing around like a zombie would in his restaints.

Wasn't bearing his teeth, lunging forward to sink his canines into your flesh.

Wasn't letting out a guttural roar.

It was clear that he had before you entered, the restraints that did little to restrain him evidence of that.

Yet, he observed you in a docile manner, and his broken jaw made him look pathetic.

His eyes weren't glowing, neither, nor were they orange. Just white.

You had thought he was blind, as his pupils were pinpricks unresponsive to light, but his eyes followed your every movement, watched you intensely.

Completely still, he stared at you with unblinking eyes, unable to swat the flies landing on his eyeballs with his wrists cuffed. Maybe not even feeling them at all.

Perhaps you were imagining things, thinking irrationally when hysterical, but you swore there was more to those eyes. Recognition.

A hesitant hand moved towards his face, wavering yet unwavering in its purpose.

When you cupped his masked cheek, his eyes conveyed a certain sadness, and were apologetic, almost as if his eyes were apologising. Conveying an apology through his eyes that he couldn't ever had through words.

Silently pleading for forgiveness. For you to forgive him. To understand.

It was unbearable. You couldn't bear to look him in the eyes anymore. You couldn't bear this.

His eyes narrowed, gaze as penetrating in death as it had been while he was alive. Even more penetrative, almost as if seeing right through your very soul.

The promise. You had of course remembered. The promise you had made that night had weighed heavy on your mind ever since.

It was unbearable. The thought of what you had to do was unbearable.

You promised. You had promised. Even if Ghost wasn't one to make promises, you were.

Your pistol on the floor where you had dropped it while collapsing, shimmered in the slither of sunlight that broke through the crack in the window.

With effort, you stretched your arms and reached for it with all your might.

You couldn't bear to hold your gun in your hands. Hands were clammy, so your grip was weak, and fingers too weak to hold it properly.

Even with both hands, you couldn't steady the shaking, the swallowed sobs causing your throat to go dry, and to choke on oxygen.

Head turned away, waterfalls of tears streaming down your face in gushing rivers, you pulled the trigger.

And a deafening shot rung out, echoing in the cellar.

You knew what you had to do. You did.

You had promised him. Promised Ghost.

But you didn't have the strength to do it.

The bullet pierced through the handcuff restraining his other wrist.

The metal fell to the floor with a dull clang.

Ghost, mesmerised, raised his hand to stare at it, not fully registering to him that this was his own hand.

You broke his promise.

Guilt overwhelmed you, as you denied a dead man's wish.

Without looking up at Ghost, you crouched down, and with your pocket knife, began working at the thick ropes binding his body.

When you stood up, Ghost had not budged. Had not even moved a muscle. His eyes were on you, unblinking.

"Come on, Ghost," you whispered, in the same tone of voice that Ghost himself would use when he used to address you.

Eyes widening, he allowed you to pull him up to his feet, no longer towering over you like he always did with his back hunched over now.

Your eyes softened at the sight of him, fresh tears brimming at the corners of your eyes, but you wiped at them before they could fall, and smiled reassuringly at Ghost, the ways that his eyes would smile reassuring you.

"Our journey isn't over, s-s—soldier," you whispered, voice cracking.

"My journey has always been you, Ghost."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N: Happy New Year guys !! 🎉🎉🎊🙌🎆🎇🎇 Startijg the year off strong with a fanfiction TWO MONTHS in the making!! 💥🥳🔫 Sure do hope all tjis work was worth it 😍, bc i SWEAR im not postijg anytjing for ANOTHER two months bc I am EXHAUSTED 😭😭😭😭💔💔💔

#aking10592_ ≛彡 #zombie ghost #zombie apocalypse au #Ghost x reader #ghost x reader #Ghost x female reader #ghost x female reader #Ghost x male reader #ghost x male reader #ghost x gender neutral reader #Simon Riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x you #Simon Ghost Riley #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #cod fic #cod ghost #ghost modern warfare #ghost riley #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley call of duty #Ghost x you #Simon Riley x you

[xmalereader]

Leon S. Kennedy RE2R X Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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Authors Note: IM ALIVE YOU SONS OF BITCHES and I bring you some porn. I want to apologize for the long hiatus that I had, but during my long ass break I was able to do some writing along with creating new ideas now that my era for Leon and Conner are back it’s possible that I will make many more crossovers between these two and more!!

Summary: Reader is a mafia leader who becomes attached to none other than Leon Kennedy after the new rookie saved his life.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, MDNI, blowjobs, RE2 Leon, sub Leon Kennedy, Dom reader, mafia leader, alcohol, possessive, manipulation, death, language, more plot than porn, mentions of murder, modern AU, no umbrella, no virus, rookie Leon, officer Leon, slight angst, some fluff too, slight dark theme, praise kink, good boy kink.

Word count: 2.6K

—

-

Leon didn’t know how he ended up in this position, sharing the same bed with the cities most powerful and dangerous man ever of Raccoon City. He didn’t expect himself to spend passionate nights with a deadly man who will kill anyone wit

He met Y/n by accident. He was injured and alone in an alleyway, his torso held a bullet wound as he coughed up blood. It was pouring that night and Leon was on patrol when he found the man, slumped against the wall as he quickly helped him. Leon had no idea that the man he was helping was Raccoon City’s most feared mafia man. The leader of the brotherhood who caused trouble for the city but kept his work clean and hidden.

He had bandaged him up and carried him back to his place due to his patrol shift being over and living close to the area. He provided him a place to rest for the night until the next morning, Y/n was a lot better. He looked healthier and the bleeding had stopped, Leon had wanted to ask for his name or help him return home only for his apartment to be stormed in by men with guns out and pointed at him.

Y/n had stopped his own men from shooting his helper and demanding them to lower their guns. It only took Leon a few minutes to figure out who the man is, putting the pieces together Only to find out that the man sitting in his apartment was the most wanted man. Leon was in shock to even move or say anything as Y/n collected his things, thanked him and left with his men.

Leon didn’t hear from him again until two months later. He meets Y/n on accident again, bumping into him when arriving to the towns bar to get a drink due to the stressful day that he had and in hopes of finally relaxing only to find out that Y/n’s owned the bar and that he too, was relaxing on the same day as him.

Y/n knew not to mess with the RPD, but couldn’t help himself to approach the young officer and Introduce himself properly. He gives him his name and offers to buy him a drink which Leon kindly rejects until the other pushed on, convincing Leon to accept the offer as the two sat side by side at the bar.

Drinks in hand as the weather outside grew cloudy and rain began to pour. Leon knew how to control his alcohol, but due to todays stressful day he ended up drinking more than what he was suppose too. His tipsy self had automatically opened up to the Mafia leader, telling him about his past and the fact that his parents were murdered and that he was on his own. Telling him that his parents killer was never captured and how the police gave up on his investigation. He grew up wanting to be an officer of the law in order to help people.

Y/n felt sympathy for Leon, smiling sadly at the man as he removes the drink from his hands and replaces it with a glass of water. Leon was in pain and still grieved for his family along with blaming himself on the death of two cops that he befriended on his first day only to loose them that same week. It was during a shoot out that he lost his friends, causing his stomach to twist and fill with guilt.

After that he stopped asking for partners and rejected them, too afraid to lose another.

Y/n watched Leon spill his feelings and thoughts to him. Too drunk to probably remember the events tomorrow as he rambled away, getting the other man’s attention who listened closely. It wasn’t until the clock stroke midnight that Y/n helped Leon get back home, offering him a ride and driving in the silent car as the officer next to him leaned his head against the window.

Upon arriving to Leon’s apartment he’d help him inside and gently lie him down in bed. He’d also remove his gear and make sure that he’s comfortable. Before he passed out, Y/n had leaned down to whisper soft encouraging words to him, praising him for his hard work and reassuring him that the death of his partners wasn’t his fault.

Leon had already fallen asleep, giving the other man a glimpse of his vulnerability. After that night when Y/n returned back to his own home he couldn’t help but think about the young officer who had helped him and let him know about his past. The expression that Leon did when talking about his family and friends caused him to grow protective and perhaps a hint of possessiveness that the cop riled out of him.

The next few weeks end up with Leon receiving special intel from an anonymous user who gave him locations of drug labs along with criminals full names and background. He didn’t know what to think about and figured it was fake until he presented it to his director who looked into it and sent a team out to investigate while Leon was stuck behind a desk.

Imagine there surprise when the intel they received was true, bringing in multiple criminals with various evidence of their activity. Leon had given the file of evidence that sat on his desk a glance, eyes narrowed as he clearly knew who it came from. He didn’t tell anyone when he made his way to the bar, keeping his uniform hidden and entering the place. His eyes scanning the room until they land on Y/n who casually drank a glass of whiskey with his other comrades.

Without hesitation Leon had tossed the file on to the table towards him, getting Y/n’s attention.

Y/n eyes the file and sets his glass down.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Leon asks while Y/n flipped through the file, turning to his men and clearing his throat. “Why don’t we discuss this somewhere else?” He collects the papers and comes to a stand, glass in hand as he drinks the last amount of alcohol before making his way towards the back where Leon followed.

“I’ll be in a meeting, make sure no one disturbs has.” Y/n had told two guards who stood at the entrance of his office door as they both nod in understanding.

When entering the office the minute the door closed behind him, Leon is quick to hold his gun out. Aiming his weapon at Y/n who leaned back against his desk, showing no signs of fear.

“Why give me this?” Leon asks, nodding towards the file in Y/n’s hand.

“I simply wanted to help.”

“Bullshit, the mafia doesn’t give a shit about this city.”

Y/n frowns. “This one does.” He tossed the file on his desk.

“What do you think I do here, Leon?” Y/n’s voice is full of venom as he pushed himself away from the desk, taking small steps forward and approaching Leon who takes hesitant steps back.

“I know that your a criminal and that you've killed many people. I know that you launder money and don’t care about the law.” Leon’s hand grips tight around his gun, heart racing as the other takes another step forward.

“I’m cleaning up the streets, I’m doing what your people can’t.” Y/n began to explain. “I’m making this place better by putting the bad people down and protecting those who need it.” He lifts his hand, fingers gently wrapping around the gun as his face softens. “I’m protecting people from experiencing a tragic death—just how you lost your parents.”

His words cause Leon to freeze in place.

“Do you really want people like that roaming freely?” Y/n lowers his gun, fingers moving up the gun and to Leon’s wrist where he pries the gun away from his hand. “I looked into your parents—I know that your upset because the man who killed your parents is roaming freely and continuing on his work. I know that the man who did it has killed more families after yours and faced no consequences because he was never captured.”

Leon gasps, feeling the others fingers grip his chin and facing him. “I can change that. Let me change that.” Y/n’s voice is soft and seductive. “Let me help you.” Leon can feel his warm breath against his face, the others eyes darting down to his lips before looking him in the eyes again.

Leon should be pushing back, pulling away from the man in-front of him only to cave in to his seductive words as the other swoops down to capture his lips in a deep kiss, catching Leon by surprise as he feels his warm tongue caress his lips open. Y/n’s hands are on his torso, pulling him closer, their chests pressed up against each other.

One minute, Leon is kissing the cities most wanted man and the next he’s bent over his desk while Y/n fucked him from behind, hands on either side of his head as he whispered praising words.

“Look at you, taking me in so well.”

“You’re perfect.”

“My good boy.”

“All mine.”

Leon had sobbed out a moan, pleasure coursing up and down his body as he allows the other man to do as he pleases, hitting all the right spots. Feeling a pair of warm lips, kissing and marking his neck as he picked up speed on his thrusts. Leon’s moans and whimpers echo around the office, ignoring the thought that the guards outside could hear everything.

Ever since that first day they spent together, Leon didn’t stop visiting.

Y/n’s men has grown concerned at the fact of an RDP officer visiting and knowing their location, worried that he would later turn his back against them and giving up their location. But, Y/n had reassured them that he kept Leon on a tight leash and will do anything to make sure that it wasn’t broken. He’d provide Leon names, locations, dates, deals, anything to keep him from betraying him and Leon never noticed his charisma.

Their relationship continued on for three years, enough time for everyone to know that Leon Kennedy was fully under Y/n’s control.

—

“Leon.”

Leon is startled by Y/n’s presence, upon entering his own apartment that Y/n had tried to convince Leon to sell and move in with him but the young officer had grown attached to his new home awhile back. Y/n knew that he couldn’t argue with Leon and allowed him to keep the apartment.

“What are you doing here?” Leon is quick to asks, eyeing the man up and down and taking in his appearance. He wore an all black suit, hair brushed in a proper way as he sat in his living room couch.

Y/n sighs softly and comes to a stand. “I’ve come to let you know that I am to be heading out on a business trip to France.”

“France?”

Y/n nods.

“What exactly is it? If you don’t mind me asking.” Leon questions, removing his shoes by the doorway and setting them aside before moving to his vest.

“I found out that my little brother has gotten himself into some trouble and must go to clean up his mess.” Y/n had rolled his eyes at the thought of his little brother causing a mess back in France, perhaps getting himself killed in the process which wouldn’t surprise Y/n by a lot. His brother was known to cause trouble, he was in charge of an assassins organization and wouldn’t be too worried if he found him dead due to him double crossing people on deals.

Instead he focused his attention on Leon, giving him a faint smile. “I’ll be back sometime next month.”

“A month?” Leon stumbled in his step, removing his pants as Y/n steps forward to keep him up right and chuckling. “Yes, my love. This business can end up taking some time and I want to spend as much time as I can with you.” He whispered his last few words, lips pressing up against his cheek and trialing down to his jaw.

Leon shudders under his touch, leaning into him as he sighs deeply against his neck.

“Y/n—“

“Don’t talk, just relax and let me take care of you. Let me hold you tonight before I leave.” He placed his hand behind Leon’s neck, fingers grazing against his jawline before pulling him into a kiss as Leon pressed up against him, lips slotting together in a perfect fitting form.

Leon felt Y/n’a hand slowly stroke down from his side, sensual heat spreading under his skin as Y/n lowered himself down to his knees, pushing him up against the wall. A gasp escaping between his teeth as Y/n’s spreads his thighs. Leon’s eyes widen, whining as he felt his fingers graze over his hard on.

“Shit, your adorable.”

He hears Y/n purr, pressing his face against his thigh, licking and biting until his fingers wrap around the waist hand, pulling his boxers down to free his hard on. Leon hissed, head falling back and can hear Y/n chuckling below him.

“Don’t hold back.” His hand is wrapped around his cock, giving him a few strokes before placing a kiss on his head, feeling him shutter and squirm under his grip as he smirked. He doesn’t wait to take in his length in a smooth sweep.

“Y—Y/n!” Leon’s eyes widen, hand balled into his hair as he threw his head back. He could feel y/m nose brushing up against his crotch, subtle but overwhelming all at once. The hot wet heat of Y/n’s mouth around his cock sending shockwaves of pleasure stuttering up his spine. The man sucked him off, humming pleasantly, and Leon could feel tears prickling the corner of his eyes, overwhelmed with sensation as Y/n held his hips down hard against the wall. “P-please, I’m—I’m not gonna—”

Y/n pulled off him with an obscene pop, grinning down at Leon as he looked up with him desperately.

“You can cum, it’s okay.” He said, making a show of licking his lips. He went back down on Leon, and the man bit his lip, hard, trying not to buck into Y/n’s mouth as he fought the noises escaping his mouth.

Suddenly he felt a wet finger brush against his entrance, and Leon’s eyes went wide. His orgasm ripping through him, hand gripping the receivers hair and bucking into his mouth, releasing his relief. Y/n bucked off him, chuckling to himself as he licks his lips and swallowed down his cum, cleaning his mouth with the back of his wrist and glancing up to Leon.

“Oh my god.” Leon breathed out, leaning against the wall as he pants. “That was—“ his face grows red, embarrassed to say anything else.

Y/n stands from where he kneels, brushing their noses together, hot breath against his lips as he pulls him. Their lips slotting together, Leon came taste himself on his lips and whines in pleasure, pulling away and licking his own lips. The man before him grins widely, fingers trailing up to grip the back of his neck.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

#male reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #Leon Kennedy x male reader #RE2 #re4r spoilers #AU #No zombies #modern au

[issa-pheonyx]

yandere slasher fics when ?? 👀

maybe rz! mike myers, obviously silent but deadly—willing to do any to please🧎🏽

but honestly i’ll take whatever,, masked yandere slashers currently has me on my knees

can i be🧋anon btw ? you know me mamas ;)

𝗔𝗔𝗔𝗛𝗛 𝗕𝗔𝗘 𝗛𝗜𝗜𝗜!!! 𝗢𝗸𝗮𝘆, 𝗜 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗜'𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗹𝘆, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗺𝗲. 𝗢𝗳 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲🧋𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗽𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗥𝗭!𝗠𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗠𝘆𝗲𝗿𝘀, 𝘀𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗹𝘆 𝗻𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝘃𝗶𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿. 𝗘𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆~🌚

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

-Of course, growing up Michael's childhood was not easy. He went through shit with his family. Not even at home he is at peace, school was hell too. However, the only person that showed him kindness and respect was you. He found it strange since no one has ever shown that except for his mom and baby sister (yes, she was just a baby, but still a purity of what he never had, to show love for his lil sis), but for it to be a whole stranger? That's new

-Other than that, he would try to build up the courage to even greet you. When it comes to you guys living right by each other he would immediately walk inside the house if he catches you grabbing the mail, you didn't get the chance to wave at him cause he's not outside anymore. Sometimes he would catch you by the windows either downstairs in the kitchen as you're washing dishes doing chores or you're upstairs in your room just staring in awe. In school he would quickly walk pass you by the lockers during break times saying "Hi(Y/N)-" then dips

-On Halloween though he finally confronted you in the morning before heading to school knocking on your door. He was nervous and you were surprised that he is actually there. He asks if you wanted to join him to go trick or treating with his family, you agreed, and there was that. During school hours you both talked about how much you love Halloween and he even asks what you're going to be as. When you confessed he promised to make you a mask that'll look sick and suits the costume...unfortunately it didn't go well

-You were wondering why he was taking long and you attempt to convince your parents that he must be busy making a mask for you, but alas he was outside all bloody, holding his baby sis, cops everywhere, etc. You found out he killed his stepfather, his big sis, and her boyfriend. It shook you to the core and you noticed he was also holding the mask that was suppose to be part of your costume before you guys planned trick or treating...

-When he was put into the asylum it was...tough. Of course, with Michael's quick temper and being above violence it was very complicated amongst his mothers end and you were her support too in need since you were Michael's only friend. It was years now, Michael all grown up and you were Michael's last hope since his mother's passing. You were shitting bricks-you don't even know he looks like now. They had security around and all eyes on him. You sat on the table waiting for him and when you first saw him your eyes widen from how much he really grew and felt intensely eerie from the mask he is wearing and being hunched over from how tall he is

-Lets just say it was both a creepy and awkward conversation. He sit in front of you and you just look at him, nervously, saying: "Hey, buddy...long time no see. Did you, um, make the mask like you promised you would?" He nods, finally a response other than an intimidating glare. "Oh yeah? Will I ever be able to see it?" He slowly glances behind the security then back at you,"Oh! Security wouldn't like that, huh?" He shakes his head. Throughout your timely visits it was typically 'yes' or 'no' questions. That's how you would both communicate

-Eventually, when you planned to visit him again you received a call from his doctor, Samuel Loomis, that Michael has escaped and is roaming free. Killing. You were petrified and he alarmed you to be at home, locked, as safely as possible. That will not work anyway, Michael has a way and will find you. It would be a game at first attempting to make you paranoid that you swore you saw him outside staring at your bedroom window only for him to disappear when you grab your phone to call the police only to check back and he is gone. He will pull these moves to manipulate you, thinking you're just getting it into your head, feeling confident that you're hiding from him very well

-Afterwards...that's when the real game begins. He starts to stalk you everywhere you go-revealing himself that 'yes, it's me, and don't worry no one will find you', demonstrating his classic knife that he is going to kill you...but, he stops. The look of confusion, hesitation, and defeat, He killed the majority of his family, why wouldn't he killed you? You were some sort of hope of his sanity? He grows frustrated and flees when Dr. Loomis finds you both or attracts attention from law enforcements or random citizens

-He acts like and guardian angel, but as death. Whenever there is cat-caller, group of gangs, or little shits stealing or throwing things at you best believe they're dead. The only time you were able to be face-to-face with him is when you try to run away from him and he ends up grabbing you, pinning you against the wall or onto the floor with his knife pierced through the wall. His heavy breathing through the mask was loud and his intensely staring into yours showing fear, but would back off and flee, because he needs to cool off from what was making hot and bothered

-Lastly, when he starts to build up more boldness with the physical interactions with you it seems like his touches becomes more suggestive, rough, and curious. His mind tells him to kill. Kill everyone, even those who were marked into his past. But, he couldn't. His body would react differently as he lets his hands wonder your body, curiously and roughly, and tilts his head hearing you react as you mewl and whimper. Is this...is this what his big sis and boyfriend do? Lets just say it led to more and made you puzzled, yet you felt like you're betraying yourself cause of his big hands roam your body. I mean I don't blame you👀

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣

#mdni #yandere #issapheonyxasks #yandere male #lemon #lime #male yandere x reader #yandere x reader #male yandere #x reader #rob zombie halloween #rob zombie #rob zombie michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers x y/n #slashers #slasher movies #michael myers #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n #slasher x you #slasher x s/o #headcannons #headcanon

[loveundrwrld]

came back yandere - undead yandere x reader

(content warnings: death, mentioned cannibalism, some minor gaslighting stuff from the yandere)

if someone had asked you if you could bring anyone back from the dead, there’s only one answer that you would pick. your dearest, closest childhood friend leon, who you lost when you two were just starting off college together.

you were completely broken by the tragedy and decided to move away from your hometown to transfer to a new school. you wanted to start all over, to put the loss out of your mind. 

when you come back to visit your hometown after graduating. . . you feel as if you are losing your mind. it feels like you are seeing him everywhere. even though you know it’s impossible.

eventually, one day, your curiosity gets the better of you, and you follow him. you want to see for yourself if you’re going mad, or if the friend you keep seeing out of the corner of your eyes is really there. despite knowing it’s hopeless, you desperately want any chance of seeing him again.

you actually end up bumping into him as he stops unexpectedly- he noticed you following him, and, to your surprise, he’s real. not an illusion that your desperate, grief-riddled mind came up with, but a real, solid man. one that looks exactly like the friend that you have lost. 

unbeknownst to you, to him, you're just a passing curiosity, an odd person who's been watching him from time to time while he was walking to the graveyard to sneak in a little snack.

you politely apologize and excuse yourself, but he smiles, unbothered, and lets you explain yourself.

he knows while you tell him about leon, about how much you care for this friend of yours, that he cannot possibly match the person you are describing in anything except appearance. he remembers nothing at all about his life, but he's never cared about anything except himself before in the short life he knows. there is no way that could be him.

but, he sees the desperation in your eyes, and the love that you have for this person who shares his face. and suddenly he's hit with a kind of hunger he's never remembered having before.

he’s suddenly overwhelmed with a vicious, overpowering desperation that matches your own. to have your love, the love that this leon had lost.

he knows now that he will take that love from you. no matter what he has to do.

“i'm leon,” he lies. “i’m so sorry you’ve missed me.”

over time you spend more time together, wanting to be closer to the friend you once knew. and he goes above and beyond, being the most sweet, considerate friend you’ve ever had. even kinder to you than he ever was before. 

he doesn’t spend any time at all with his friends and family, but that’s ok because he’s making up lost time with you, right? it’s not strange at all that he would want to spend all of his time around you, knowing how depressed you were after he died. and sure, he won’t talk about his death or his mysterious reappearance at all, but that’s just because he doesn’t want to disturb you with any depressing details. it’s not that he’s keeping secrets.

if you notice that he’s acting any differently . . . he immediately changes what he does, going back to how you say he used to act. if you express any confusion on his preferences changing . . . well, there’s always a reason for that, with him.  what, he used to hate watching horror movies? well, he was just going along with what you wanted to do, he was just being polite.

he’s your best friend, just like you wanted . . . he’ll be anyone you want him to be.

#yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #gender neutral reader #zombie x reader #male yandere #undead yandere #leon north

[cobwebs-in-autumn]

Zombie Apocalypse au where the 141 save a younger more helpless Male!Reader from a hoard surrounding him and just…..not letting you go. They catch you when you try to run from them and drag you back to their bunker, amused when you try and fight them off, just bending you over and fucking the attitude out of you. Constantly leaving a butt plug in you so they can pull it out and take you whenever they want. Tying your hands up and whipping your ass raw if you take it out without permission. Groaning in your ear as they fuck your ass and telling you they wish it was a cunt so they could breed you full 🧡🧡🧡

#cobweb writes #cod #call of duty #cw: non-con #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #zombie apocolypse au #male!reader

[slashersxoxo]

Braiding Michaels hair

i just realize as I'm posting this I didn't link my ao3 on my last post..... Dammit.. Anyways, here's a RZ Michael Myers fic I wrote yesterday teehee <3

Summary: Michael sat on the floor between your knees while you sat on the couch behind it. It had taken a lot of convincing and a lot of begging for him to let you do this. What were you doing? Braiding his long blonde hair of course!

Words: 453

Reader: Male (pronouns are never used)

Ao3 link

Michael sat on the floor between your knees while you sat on the couch behind it. It had taken a lot of convincing and a lot of begging for him to let you do this. What were you doing? Braiding his long blonde hair of course! You were being as careful as possible, trying not to tug on his hair as you braid it into a long strand. Michael was sitting quietly, his mask discarded onto the coffee table next to the cassette player that was blasting Black Sabbath (Michaels choice of course.) 

You nod your head along to the loud metal music as Michael sits in silence. Your fingers work diligently in an attempt to finish his hair as quickly as possible, knowing he didn’t like to sit in one place for long. “Everything okay down there?” You question. Michael just responds with a small huff. A short chuckle escapes our mouth as you return your focus on his hair.

The room falls silent again, minus the heavy metal blasting from the cassette player, but it wasn’t one of those weird awkward silences you were well acquainted with. It was a nice silence, a silence that was a soft humming of a fan on a warm summer's day. You lean back to look at your work after a few seconds of fiddling with the hair tie. A large grin extends over your face as you look over the careful braid you had made in Michaels, normally disheveled, hair. 

“I’m done!!!” You annonce happily as you stand, walking around to face Michael. He tilts his head up at you as your hand extends out to him. “Come on!! I want you to see it!” Micheal rolls his eyes and huffs, but obliges and takes your hand. The two of you walk into your bedroom where a tall full body mirror is sat on the wall. “Look!!” You point to the mirror, and Michael walks over. 

His eyebrows raise in a slightly surprised expression. He hadn’t expected it to look so nice. He tilts his head and watches the braid follow the motion of his head. His eyes flicker over to you, you’re bouncing on the heels of your feet in an excited manner. “So?? What do you thiiiink?” You inquire expectantly. Michael looks away to the ground, then back at you, and nods. He gives you a thumbs up, along with a small half smile. 

You giggle happily and clap. “I’m glad you like it!!! I can do it again sometime if you like.” Michael nods again, and you nod back. This will probably end up becoming a normal thing from now on, seeing as it got the Michael thumbs up of approval.

#Halloween 2007 #Rob Zombies Halloween #rz michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers x male reader #slasher x reader

[heartfullofleeches]

Femboy Zombie Yan who's the cutest boy...when he's wearing his makeup/disguises. His lips have mostly rotted away, right eye plucked clean from its socket likely at the time of his demise. His hair is neck length, but he had been growing it out longer and it never reached the length he wanted before his death so he wears wigs to make up for what he could've had... Face masks hide the "little blemish" disrupting his beauty and he swaps between a prosthetic eye or an eye patch depending on his mood.

Eating human flesh returns him to that gorgeous doll he once was and eases his temper for a time which is why he never approaches his darling in an empty stomach.

Creep Reader has zero interests in him when he's healthy and pretty looking.... They're unnerved by his adorable face and that captivating eye staring back at them. He just wants them to look at him, but they refuse. Everyone always tells him how cute he is, why can't they?

Heartbroken and determined, he fails to take the weather in account as he pursues the love of his afterlife - a strong gust of wind snatching his protection from him right before their very eyes.

"Ah! My mask! Don't look at me... Don't look!.... Eh, y-you want me to smile?.... You think I'm cuter this way? Even with all this flesh between my teeth? Oh, love - I knew you were the one for me!"

#yandere zombie #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #yandere blurb #male yandere #femboy yan

[dr3c0mix]

What does goth man look like 👁️👁️

whaT DO THE ZOMBIES LOOK LIKE???

this reminded me that i had a wip of the zombie horde in my procreate ghhghhhghgh but i want to give yall a little more than that so im also throwing in some headcannons and stuff from when they were alive &lt;3 <3 <3

💀 Ribs' hair is bleached blonde! It also has a faint smell of weed, hmm.

💀 Just as he is now, he was very hyper. He used to go to a lot of parties and raves. He was actually at a beach concert when he got infected.

💀 He reacts to rock music, if you play a song near him, he’ll turn to where the sound is coming from and go to it and hop around happily, it’s a good way to find him if you loose him in the mall.

💀 Screw looked like he was a scavenger like you before turning into a zombie, you found old cans of food and an almost empty flask of water in his bag amidst things he probably picked up, things he very much didn’t need anymore in his current state.

💀 He and Ribs found a pair of scissors in your drawers once and you came back to your bunker to Ribs cutting Screw’s hair. They both just stared at you with Screw’s hair all over the floor, that’s why his hair looks a bit choppy.

💀 He gets cold easily somehow so he clings onto you the most, the others are a little jealous..

💀 Soda has a lot of burn scars on his shoulder, you make it a point to not use fire around him as he chirped and cooed worryingly when you lit a match to warm some food.

💀 His hair is surprisingly soft, a bit dry but it isn’t as covered in blood and dirt like the others.

💀 his shirt is slightly in better shape than the rest of his clothes, he’s probably had to change it after a while.

💀 Bo looks like he’s lasted longer than the others considering his supposed military experience and a bandage present on his leg ever before finding him, he’s had in on for a while.

💀 The sides of his face are scratches and torn, revealing his teeth underneath, it makes it hard to chew sometimes but that’s why he focuses more on getting the others food more than himself.

💀 He’s a bit of an attention seeker so if you see him beekeeping the others in line or doing something good, please praise him, he’ll be so happy. The others tease him for it because he resembles a dog when he leans down for you to pat his head.

Anyway here’s your funny little zombos !! Hope you like how they turned out ! I promise to give y’all a proper drawing of goth next time too!

#yandere x reader #oc yandere #yandere oc #yandere #terato #teratophillia #monsterfucker #monster x human #monster smut #monster lover #zombie #undead #x reader #x male reader #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x darling #yandere x gn reader #yandere x you #poly x reader #polyamorous #polyamory #poly relationship #opossumdoodles

[thatsmef1nnb0]

Yan! Zombie and M! reader

(I'm not that good at grammar, but I try.)

As you stare at your television, your mouth lay agape. "LOCKDOWN. STAY IN YOUR HOUSES. A NEW VIRUS HAS BEEN IDENTIFIED" You roll your eyes, "it's like covid all over again." A sigh escapes your lips.

Little did you know that you were so very wrong. This wasn't another disease that kills and leaves their victims cold and unmoving. It wasn't a virus like the media said, but a spore. The spore's first step was to kill you, get your immune system to attack itself. Then it will grow and continue to the frontal lobe where it takes your body and uses that very body to spread the spore's kin through a bite.

Lucky for you, you were fortunate enough to have just enough food and water until your first encounter.

BANG BANG BANG

You shoot up from your bed, baseball bat in hand.

CRASH

You hear quiet murmuring from the room over, carefully but surely you make your way to the kitchen. A pale, scrawny figure is scrambling across to floor to try and fix a cup it had broken. Its eyes red and wide quickly move to your frame.

It lets out a small screech, as soon as it took its eyes off the broken cup a shard of glass stabs into his thigh. Another screech, a louder one. A lot louder. The zombie moves from a crouching position to a "all over the place" position. Which is true, you flinch and dodge at every new location it decides to sprint to.

Even if this thing would probably attack and ruin your life forever if you tried to help him, you did.

After a long back in forth from your reassurances and the pale creature's squeals and screams, you finally found a way to calm him down. Now that the creature was tied to your heater you dampened the wound and patched together the skin, The creature started giggling and shaking halfway through.

"What?" you ask the creature forgetting that the man across from you most likely has no clue how to talk or what you're saying.

The man with the pale skin and messy hair points to you and gurgles happily. You took it as a sign that he found you ridiculous, when in reality he found you immaculate. You didn't know this yet but you would feel the same about him soon. <3

#yandere x male reader #ftm reader #yandere x reader #male reader #zombies! #zombiez! #!!! <3 #yandere male x male reader #hashtag #yandere zombie #mlm yandere #slight yandere #zombie #<3 #broken glass #broke my cup

[looseratinthegarage]

S/o who takes full advantage of being in a relationship with the Slashers

Tw: I’m too lazy, read at your own risk

Michael Rz

•You were walking home from work, it was a pretty easy day, but that was about to change. Some douchebag started cat calling you, you ignored him to the best of your ability.

• “Come on, baby, I could show you a good time.”

•You started walking faster but he followed.

• “Not interested.”

•He started getting irritated by your unwillingness. He caught up to you, he grabbed your arm and spun you around. He was surprised to see you smiling.

• “You’ve done fucked up,”

•A noise from the alleyway to your right caught his attention, his grip on you loosened subconsciously. Michael emerged from the shadows, the mans eyes widened with fear.

• “I was just playin’ around, man- holy shit that's the boogieman! Wait-”

•Michael grabs the man by his throat and throws him to the ground. The man gasps and tries to crawl away. Michael kicks him onto his side, the creep begins coughing agonizingly and rolls back on his stomach. Michael pulls out his knife and turns it in his hand playfully. He kneels down and grabs a fist full of the mans hair, lifting his face off the cold concrete. He slammed his head back down and stabbed him repeatedly.

•Once he’s satisfied, he’d return to you. You stand on your tippy toes and pull him down for a kiss. He wraps his bloody arms around you and pulled you close to his chest.

• “...Mine…”

Yautja

•You and your mate were currently on a trade planet, aka a space mall. He had to restock on some supplies, and you just wandered around looking at all the cool things. While you were distracted with something shiny you accidentally bumped into someone. You went to apologize but before you even had the chance the alien turned around with an angry look. He leaned down and got in your face.

• “Your kind has no place amongst us, you are vermin!”

•You press your hidden distress signal, it sends out your location to him. Once the round object vibrated on his hip he quickly looked at the location.

•The man grabbed you roughly and shook you a bit. You heard angered clicking behind you and had a shiteating grin.

• “oh did I not mention my mate is Yautja? Whoops…”

•The alien's heart dropped and he went pale. He set you own and dusted you off.

• “M-my apologizes, hunter!”

•Your mate grabbed the man’s shirt and pushed him to the ground. No one batted an eye at this, it’s not unusual for the Yautja to pick fights. He pressed his claws to the man’s throat.

• “If I see you even look in my mates direction again, I’ll skin you alive, am I being clear?”

• “y-yes, sir!! It won’t happen again!!”

•Your mate nonshalontly lets him go. He is very lucky to be alive and scampers off with his tail in between his legs.

•You walk up to him with a loving smile and he puffs out his chest pridefully. He wraps his arms around you and you paw at his chest. He leans down and wraps his mandibles around your face, it’s his version of a kiss. You happily kiss him back <3

I have a pt 2 in the works >:3

#slashers #horror #slasher community #slasher x reader #halloween #michael myers #rob zombie michael myers #slashers x reader #predator x reader #rz michael myers #michael myers x reader #male pred #alien vs predator #avp #yautja one shot #yautja hc #yautja #yautja x reader #predator one shot #alien vs predator requiem #wolf predator #predator

[gloomiebearwritings]

W.I.P Whenever~

A teeny tiny snippet from something that'll take ages to finish because life is busy ( •̀ ω •́ ) Inspired by talks I've had with @chadillacboseman

It had been a few weeks since the outbreak started, and at least a solid two weeks since you’d lost contact with Simon. 

You hadn’t had any contact with anyone else either- just huddled down in a house you and two others managed to make safe enough to stay in for the time being. 

By now nightfall had already set in and both companions were still gone- maybe they got trapped or had to settle down for the night in some hole they found themselves in. And after making sure things were still holding up, you chose to try settling down for the night yourself.

But you didn’t even reach the end of the hallway before you heard the outside hatch leading to the basement fly open with force. The sounds of one of your companions racing towards the door, begging you to hurry up and open it- when you did he was covered in mud and soaking wet. His eyes were wide open as he frantically spun around to shut the door, but a strong, sickly gray hand grabbed the door away from him and practically ripped it off its hinges. 

From the near pitch black doorway sprung one of the un-dead who quickly pinned your companion against the wall, not even leaving you a second to consider helping him as he was dug into- leaving you only enough time and room to make a mad dash for your emergency exit. 

You didn’t even make it to the handle of the hatch before you felt the thudding footsteps come barreling towards you, and the feeling of two strong arms wrapping around your waist that ripped you away from your escape. The arms practically crushed you against the cold, wet material behind you, not even letting a sound escape you. 

And yet nothing came of it, you were just held there in a crushing grasp against a sopping wet un-dead. Something was off- you opened your eyes to see in the reflection of the window that familiar skeletal mask illuminated by the moonlight that peeked out from the clouds. Yet there was nothing there, those once warm, lively eyes were as cold as ice- hazed over just like all the others. “Simon-”

You could swear his eyes widened for a moment, as if he realized what he’d done before letting you go only to have you spun around to face him. 

His jaw hung slack as he stared you down, eyes looking like they were searching for why you were so stiff and leaning as far away from him as you were. It seemed like he was trying to find his words, or at least get them in line for you as his hands gripped your waist harder and harder. You'd think he was trying to crush your insides. Leaning in closer to your face, even as you pulled further away until you felt the wet skin of his lower jaw press against your forehead- a low rumble left him as if he was pleased with himself for “kissing” you. 

Now the edge of his headgear rested against your forehead as he remained leaned over, his milky eyes staring into your own as if to make sure you weren’t going to try bolting away from him before slowly bringing one hand away from your waist up to your face, his bloody glove leaving a streak across your cheek. As disjointed as his movements were, he seemed genuine in his attempts- even if it was leaving blood across your clothes and skin. “Y/N-” He barely croaked out, his voice sounding hoarse and worn out.

None of the others had ever uttered a word before, only screaming and yowling whenever they spotted something to tear apart. You pressed him, questioning if he actually understood what he just did or where he even was- but he didn’t respond, only straining out your name as he brought his bloody thumb over your lips. The feeling was horrendous and made you scrunch up, earning what sounded like an amused hum from Simon. 

The next few moments were still a blur, it still felt like a dream. You could remember hearing something coming into the room, the feeling of being ripped from his grasp, and the thud of your head on the floor. Between the blinding pains in your head you swore you saw Simon pick up the infected and break them in two, but at this point almost anything went.

Laid awkwardly on the bed you raised your head just enough to spot Simon at the end of the bed, facing away from you. Wanting to believe it was just a nightmare or that you were still dreaming you called out his name- but he didn’t turn to look at you, only stood up and left the room. You wanted to believe it was a dream you were having so badly that you couldn’t even be mad at him for walking away, only calling out his name louder until he came back into your blurry vision. He silently set down a glass next to you on the nightstand before moving your legs over enough for him to sit there next to you. You genuinely couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the water he brought you, only fixating on trying to force your vision to clear enough to see his face, only really grasping that familiar skull shape and his hand on your arm when you tried to reach for it.

You thought maybe he’d shove your hand away, only to be comforted by the feeling of his bottom lip against the back of your hand- his bare bottom lip against your bare skin, and it felt wet. 

Quickly you pulled your hand back to your side, glancing at it to see red smeared across where his mouth had been. You would have shot upright on the bed and moved as far away from him as you could if he hadn’t turned and moved practically on top of you to keep you still. 

His weight knocked the air out of you, his skull mask grazing the side of your face it used to when you’d play your games of cat and mouse- and just maybe in your delirious state you wanted to believe it was just that as you wrapped your legs around his waist, teasing him by questioning who really had who now. And while he never responded verbally, he hummed aloud and pressed his masked face to yours before pulling away to hover over you. Your vision was still blurry enough that your mind saw his sweet face instead of the ghastly, blood covered skull, smiling back at you in that sweet, familiar way. 

The feeling of your hands cupping his face made him feel alive again, forgetting wholly just what he’d become as he dipped his head down to kiss your face again like he did earlier in the night. He forced himself to stay aware enough of himself to not kiss your lips or nip at your skin- he wanted you alive as yourself for as long as he could keep you that way. He could feel it, mixing with that painful hunger, the feeling of missing you- of being inside you. It was fucked up beyond belief, he knew that much, but he also felt he had nothing left to strive for or want anymore. 

#my works #x reader #x gn reader #x male reader #cod ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod x gn!reader #zombie!ghost #zombie!ghost x reader