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nsharks · 11 months

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bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part ten —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 2.3k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: this chapter kicked my butt. thanks for the patience~

An ear-splitting gunshot bites the ground near your boot, close enough to feel the heat simmer through the worn leather. It takes everything in you not to freeze in terror. You grab Blue and run.

Adrenaline kicks into high gear once again, but with her dead weight and your lack of strength, you know you can't get far. You manage to tumble behind a stack of rusted bins just as another round fires.

Blue clings to you. "He's following us!"

Your heart sinks as your fingers reach for your bow— you left it.

"Give me your gun," you sputter quickly.

She shoves the unfamiliar weapon in your hands. A tremble consumes your body as you peek over the barrel to find your target. For a second, you see your attacker as he passes by one of the jeeps. A young man no older than yourself.

Without hesitation, you close an eye and go for his heart, but the bullet grazes the top of his shoulder with a spray of blood. Used to a bow, you aimed too high.

He barks out a swear and then lifts his rifle in retaliation. Before he can shoot, a Grey bursts through the window of the jeep, clamping down on his neck. His throat turns to gore. The gun falls from his grip as screams of pain quickly turn to muffled groans.

Relief and horror pound through your veins. That was close. Too close. You have to get Blue out of here. But how—

There is no chance to decide. Suddenly, she screams again. You whip around to meet the slash of a long knife and the flush of cold air as your coat is torn. Someone has snuck up behind you. You fumble with the gun but the attacker knocks it out of your hand, then fists your hair hard enough to make your scalp burn. It happens so fast. You can't even get a good look at him— only the wild stare of his eyes and the strength of his stature. Whoever these people are, they are certainly better fed than that man in the woods.

You thrash against him, hurling saliva at his face. Apparently, he didn't expect that because he hisses, "Fuck."

You use the distraction to grab your own knife, the only weapon on you, and blindly drive it into the taut muscle of his thigh. He howls, letting go of your hair, and you slip away just enough to dodge the next swipe of his blade.

The fight is short-lived. You've grown stronger, but not enough to fight a man. He is skilled and bulky. Your attempts to hit him are futile. His knife catches you in the forehead, sending a curtain of blood down your face, and he grabs hold of your hair once again.

"Gonna cut your throat first," he murmurs, low and gravelly. "Then your little lamb's."

He will kill you. Then her. You can't let him. You won't. Something animalistic takes hold of you. You do the only thing left you can think of— bite. Hard. The sickening taste of human flesh and hot blood fills your mouth as you rip out a chunk of his nose.

"You bitch!"

He clutches his oozing face. Blue shouts at you, her finger jutting toward something— the Grey. Done with its first meal, it draws toward the scent of fresh blood. Before your attacker can recover, you throw all your weight at him, which isn't much, but it is enough to make him lose his footing and veer into the Grey's path. It grabs hold and sinks another bite into his face.

Suddenly, two more gunshots ring out. One to the Grey's head, and the other through the man's eye. Both bodies flop dead to the ground. Before you can panic, a wild-eyed Ghost returns in long strides.

"Blue!" he bellows.

"Dad!" she yells back.

He heads straight for her, quickly dipping down to check her bandaged leg and search for any other wounds. Fear has forced her eyes to stay open, her body stiff and alert. There is a wet stain at the crotch of her jeans.

"They tried to kill us," she cries.

“I'm here, baby. I won't leave you again.”

You wipe the blood off your face and glance around, panting so hard your lungs hurt. The air reeks of carnage and gunpowder, but the firing has ceased.

"They attacked us," you speak in a raw shout. “Two of them. Did you— Are the rest gone?"

He nods. "Could be more nearby. Let's get out of here before we find out."

He slings the rifle over his shoulder and scoops up Blue without an ounce of the effort it took for you to do so.

He moves fast. Retrieving your bow, you push hard to keep up with him.

Twilight tints the sky purple. You make it past the fence and zig-zag through the medical tents when movement catches your eye again.

"Ghost, to the right!" you scream.

You knock an arrow onto the string, aiming for the distant figure. But the movement multiplies, more shadows lurking towards you with uneven gaits. Not people. Greys. The realization forms a pit in your stomach.

"They can fucking smell us," you choke out.

"Hit the faster ones!"

Arrow after arrow, you aim for the ones that move with the stamina of a more recently infected. To your right. To your left. Ghost carries Blue with one arm and shoots with his handgun. More and more crawl out like cockroaches, no doubt catching a whiff of the blood that stains all three of you.

Two built like linebackers run wildly up to Ghost from either direction. He shoots one, while the other grabs him by the shoulder. You launch an arrow at its skull, your aim more precise now that you're not shooting bullets, and it lets go of him with a squeal.

When the trees grow thicker, it becomes harder to see them. Despair pushes a cry up your throat when you slap a hand back to your quiver and feel two arrows left.

A slippery mix of mud and leaves suddenly takes you down to the ground, your knees landing on a hard tree root. You swear under your breath, fumbling to get back up, when a Grey you hadn't noticed behind you lunges on top, slamming you back down. Pain shoots through your ribs as you frantically roll around, thrusting a forearm against its throat to avoid its opened mouth and kicking your knees into its chest. Then, a fiery bullet lodges into its forehead, the Grey going limp on top of you with a splatter of brains and coagulated fluid.

"Get up, Twix!" Ghost barks.

You shove the body off and scramble to your feet, legs feeling like jelly, but you force them to keep running.

You whip a brief look behind you.

"There's too many— I'm almost out of arrows!"

"The river," Ghost throws over his shoulder. "Those fucks can't swim."

You realize his idea when the roar of water greets your ears. Ghost doesn't hesitate to sprint onto the rusty rebar, slipping his gun away to hold Blue with both arms.

You follow behind, forcing your eyes on the bank ahead as you slow down to keep balance. All you have to do is get across and the river will take care of the rest. Heartbeats pound in your skull, each step requiring an unfathomable amount of focus that you struggle to muster. You're about halfway there when you hear the splash of Greys falling in, and a brief glance below causes your footing to falter.

This time you fail to grab the beam.

Cold water envelops you like a million needles.

A mouthful of water burns down your throat, and for a moment, you can't move. Can't breathe. Everything spins around you. It's not until your feet collide with something hard - the bottom of the riverbed - that your brain registers what's happening and you kick out to propel yourself up.

You break the surface for a gulp of air before the current pulls your head back under. Your arms flail around in search of something to grab. Just when you latch onto what feels like a log, a hand seizes your ankle with a hungered screech. You slam your foot back, over and over, more water filling your mouth as you struggle to kick the Grey and hold on at the same time.

Finally, the rotten skull caves in and the current sucks it away. With your leg freed, you haul yourself up the log toward the edge of the river. You begin climbing up the cliffside, using the twisted roots as footholds, your hands digging into caked soil. You're almost to the top, but you feel numb and weak. So weak. You can't find anything else to grab. The wet sole of your boot begins to slip.

"Grab on!"

A gloved hand stretches down. Ghost is crouched above, Blue now on his back so can he lean over. You grip his hand and he pulls you up, until you collapse on the ground, wet and shivering.

You cough up water and bile.

"Bloody fucking hell.”

It's been a while since you've thought about dying. You've made it this far, instinct always taking the reins and pushing you onward. But now, as the reality of the cold, wet clothes clinging to you sets in, you consider asking Ghost to just shoot you. It would be quicker than freezing to death, and a much better fate than drowning or turning Grey. At least you know Blue will be safe now.

Before you can form the words, you hear the shuffling of fabric. A jacket, a beanie. Set on the ground beside you.

"Take off your clothes. Put these on."

The rest turns into a dream. You don't remember putting the clothes on, or standing up and moving your heavy limbs. You don't remember getting to the hunter's cabin, but the next thing you know, you are curled up on the floorboards beside a small fire, inhaling the musky smell of Ghost's oversized jacket, with the blanket you brought tucked around your bare legs. You don't feel cold anymore. Your head pounds. You can hear the steady rhythm of your heart, slow but present. Behind you somewhere, Ghost tends to Blue. You know this because you hear him whisper to her as her sobs are muffled by biting onto a shirt. Amelia, Amelia, he says to her. A name you've never heard before. He must be cleaning the wound, the pain of it causing her to thrash and kick. Then, the sounds fade, and you know she is asleep.

When your eyes finally tear away from the flames, you spot Ghost hunched over, lifting up his shirt. Dark blood and ink stain pale skin.

"You were shot?"

His eyes snap up. He regards you for a moment, and it is now you notice that most of the white of his mask has been stained with red from his kills.

"Knife," he says.

You don't know why you offer, or why he silently accepts. Somehow you end up knelt beside him, your cracked fingertips cleaning the puncture wound in his torso without a single word exchanged. It's not deep enough to need stitches. You clear the blood and dab on antiseptic. The only sign he feels any pain is the flex of corded muscles beneath your touch and the occasional sharp inhale through the mask. His skin is oddly warm, a temperature that does some to ease the tension in your muscles.

When you're done, you roll the shirt back down. He doesn't say thank you, not that you expected him to.

You break the silence with a voice that barely hovers above a whisper. "You could've let me freeze."

His brows lower. "You could've let them kill her."

"I would never do that." When he doesn't respond, you glance at her sleeping form. "She's okay?"

"Just a graze," he confirms.

"She lost quite a bit of blood. She might need a few days to rest."

Your gaze shifts back to his. You quietly add, "Did you recognize them? Were they a part of the military?"

"Maybe. Their gear was. Didn't know them, though."

"Why did they try to kill us?"

He gives you a look. Of course. He tried to kill you for the same reason once.

"They have a camp nearby," you murmur the answer, more to yourself than to him. "Something to protect."

He gives a slow nod, then moves to grab his rifle and a hoodie to slip on in place of the thick SAS jacket he lent you. As he moves to the door, you realize what he plans to do. Keep watch.

You slip the beanie off and run your fingers over the cut on your brow when he says something just before leaving.

"For someone who once asked me to kill them, you fight hard to survive, Twix."

You don't know what to say. Just hours ago, you almost asked him to kill you again.

There's a beat of silence and then, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Do you fight so hard."

A breath sticks in your throat, and you stare at the floor. You're not sure why he is asking this, or why the answer is so hard to give.

"I... I don't know."

With that, he leaves. You watch the fire turn to dark embers. The faded adrenaline has left you with a fatigue you have grown familiar with. If you weren't so tired, maybe you would still be scared, your mind filled with fresh memories of gore and death and screaming. But you fall asleep quickly, scooting beside Blue and sinking into the warmth of his jacket.

#simon riley x reader #ghost #zombie apocolypse au #simon ghost riley x reader #fanfiction #cod #cod mw2

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mrsparrasblog · 6 months

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Mission save the human race Pt2

Pt1

You spend the night talking to John after you can't sleep anymore. Too many thoughts enter your brain. Getting pregnant at this time is dangerous, but it's what every good person would do, right? Save the human race.

"I'm a bit afraid."

"You don't need to be, Dove; I'm going to support you; either way, you saved Johnny." he reasured you.

"What if I die while giving birth? Then the whole thing is useless."

"First of all, you are a doctor; you can explain all these things beforehand, and we are soldiers going to take care of you; we would be better than delivery nurses, well, maybe except Kyle."

You chuckled. "And, um, do I need to sleep with every one of you?"

"Not at all, love; you have free choice; you can just choose one, or you can have more than one, you know since the chances are better."

"And they sure want me?"

"I think yes. Look at you."

"You only say that because I'm the only woman on earth."

"Not at all, dove; you're my type, even if there were millions."

"Liar," he pulled your hand and laid it down on his rock-hard dick.

"See how much I want you, and that's only by looking at you."

He stroked the hair out of your face and captured your lips in a kiss. The kiss was shy and thoughtful at first but turned more and more into a battle of dominance, and you knew you wanted him. "So fucking gorgeous. I wouldn't want to share you, but I'm a good man."

You rested your head against his shoulders. "I want to do it with all of you, but not together," he chuckled at your words and how flustered you got to admit your desire.

"We can talk further tomorrow; just let me cuddle you now." You fell asleep, almost suffocating in his strong arms.

------------

The next morning, you went upstairs, entangling yourself from John's massive body.

You went straight to the room where Johnny lay, checking on his fever. He cooled down overnight. You were kind of proud that you managed your surgery well without proper equipment and medication; you're a fucking genius. If the Hopkins had seen this, they would have regretted declining you after medical school.

You rubbed a paste on Johnny's surgery wound and disinfected it.

You were a bit unprofessional as your eyes glanced down at his pure muscles; you wanted to trace them down with your fingers, of course only for medical reasons. You heard the door open, and Simon stood in front of you, only wearing briefs. His thick thighs were covered in scars, and his pecs were well-defined and so fucking tall. You wanted to climb him like Mount Everest, and you sure as hell will soon.

"My eyes are up here, darling." You blushed as he noticed you staring.

"Sorry, you're just so tall, and it's hard to look up." You laughed at your own lie.

"Price told me about the little plan." He walked close to you, pinning you against the wall with sheer force. His calloused fingers touched the hem of your shirt. "I look forward to helping you, and Johnny too. Play a bit with the other boys so you'll be stretched out for both of us."

"Both of you," you breathed out in fear and arousal at the same time.

"We like to share sweet little things like you," he said, pressing his erection towards you and fucking hell which horse was that.

"I know it's big," he said and you swallowed, afraid.

"I'm going to make your stomach swell pretty fast, Doll," he said, pushing you against the wall, his fingers groping against your round ass.

"Simon-"

"Shh, doll, it's okay. We're going to take care of you soon."

You just nodded, unable to do, think, or say anything.

"Just be a good girl today and give your sweet cunt to the captain; he has a thing for cute innocent girls like you." He kissed you around your neck and then let go, making his way back to his boyfriend.

So they would share you. Should this make you feel afraid or aroused?.

You tried to shake it away and went to the kitchen, preparing some fruits for breakfast.

Price awoke to find himself alone in the bed, the sheets cooling against his skin. He sat up and stretched, yawning widely, before looking around for you.

Finding you in the kitchen, he smiled and walked over, wrapping an arm around your waist from behind.

"I feel so domestic with you around me," you said, taking in his smell.

John chuckled, leaning in to kiss your neck. "Domestic? That's a new one. But I like the sound of it." He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "You know, I could get used to this—being with you, taking care of you."

"Already acting like I'm your little wife."

He smirked, his lips curling into a smile. "Well, if it means I get to be your husband, then I think I'm going to like this arrangement very much." He turned you around to face him, his hands sliding up your arms.

"Are you fulfilling your husband's duties then?"

John leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. "Oh, I plan to," he murmured before capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and dip, asserting his dominance and affection at the same time.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, needing to go on your tiptoes to reach him.

John's body reacted to yours, his hands moving lower to squeeze your butt through your clothes.

He pulled back slightly, looking into your beautiful eyes as he trailed kisses down your neck and shoulders. "I love the way you respond to me," he said, his voice sounding horace and full of lust.

"And how do I respond, John?" You sounded cocky, and the awareness to not tease a man twice your strength left your body.

John's lips curled into a sinful smile. "With fire, Angel, just like this." He bit down gently on your earlobe, eliciting a soft moan from you. "You're so fucking sexy when you submit to me."

"What makes you think I'll submit to you easily?"

Price's eyes narrowed slightly, but his voice remained soft and commanding. "Because I know you want to," he said, trailing his fingers down your stomach and teasingly tickling your lower abdomen. "You love the feeling of being taken and owned." He pulled a slap on your ass, showing you how he in fact owns you right now.

"Oh, do I now?" you asked.

He chuckled, kissing your neck again. "Oh, yes. You do." He ran his hand up your thigh, gently caressing the inner part of your thigh and teasingly brushing against your pants, which were already soaked.

"You're so responsive,"

"John, everyone could walk in the kitchen any moment," you whined, afraid of what others would think of you. You gave in so easily that it didn't even take you a week to decide to become their personal fucktoy.

His eyes flickered at the door for a moment. "That just makes it more exciting," he said, his voice deep and husky. "The thought of someone walking in on us and seeing you like this turns me on."

"Oh, it turns you on how they see how good you take care of me."

"Yes," Price admitted, his voice low and raw with desire. "I love the thought of them watching me claim what's mine." He slid a hand down to cup your pussy through your panties, his fingers teasing your swollen clitoris through the fabric—you hadn't had this friction in a while, making you almost cum from it.

Mhm, John, stop, I didn't shave." Well, you trimmed, but try to shave properly in an apocalypse.

Price's eyes glinted with mischief as he leaned in to whisper against your ear. "I don't care if you haven't shaved—I even prefer it this way," he said, his beard tickling against your skin. "I want you just like this- all natural."

He nipped at your earlobe before trailing kisses down your neck, his hand still buried in your panties. "You're so fucking sexy," he murmured against your skin.

"You think so?" You knew you looked good, but good enough to be desired by these seven literal gods. You doubted it.

His eyes are burning with pure desire for you. "I fucking know so," he growled, pulling you closer and grinding his hips against your body—his erection was already there, and it was fucking big. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, Angel."

"You're the most handsome man I've ever seen." Well, you couldn't quite decide which of them was the hottest, but he didn't need to know that right now.

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Flatterer," he teased, kissing you gently on the lips. "But I'll take it."

You kissed him deeper, moaning into the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in a heated dance. He could feel your warmth through his pants, and it only made him harder.

With one swift move, he lifted you onto the kitchen counter, pinning you under his strong arms. He lifted you like you weighed absolutely nothing.

"Mhm, John needs you," you whined. You could not hold your composure anymore; you felt lust for him - primal lust for him—like nature wanted it to be; you were animalistic.

"You have me," John said, his voice rough with passion. "Always." His hands moved deftly to slip off your shirt.

Now you sat there on the counter only wearing a bra and some short skirt with spread legs so he could always reach your begging mound. You thought about how any of the boys could walk in at any second, and it only fueled your desire. In the deepest twisted place in your mind, you thought about them taking you at the same time. You blamed it on ovulation week or not being fucked for years straight.

And even though of the sex you had before was frustrating, your ex just couldn't get you off, rubbing on your poor clit like it was a lottery scratcher. How many orgasms you faked, and you asked yourself if you needed to fake one with them too? This would be disappointing.

Price took a moment to admire the view before him, his eyes roaming over your exposed skin. He reached up and undid your bra with practiced ease, letting it fall away to reveal your perfect breasts. His mouth watered at the sight of them. "You're so fucking beautiful." Price smiled as he leaned in, his lips brushing against one of your hardened nipples. "I could spend all night just worshipping these," he whispered before taking one into his mouth and sucking gently.

"Then do it," you whined, wanting him to suck your nipples.

"With pleasure," John replied. He continued to lavish attention on your perfect breasts, his hands teasing and pinching the nipples while his mouth moved from one to the other, lapping at them with hungry kisses. You could barely take it longer. Your eyes darkened from hunger.

You slipped off his shirt as he continued to suck on your hard nipples.

You oggled over his muscular frame; he wasn't the lean muscle type; he had thick, delicious muscles with hair on top of them; he was the pure definition of masculinity; your primal needs chipped in when you saw him, thinking of how you resembled the perfect pair.

He groaned as he felt your hands on his skin, his muscles tightening at the touch. He pulled away from your breasts for a moment, looking down at you with a predatory smirk. "You like what you see?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

"I love what I see."

"Good," he replied. He reached down and pulled your panties off, tossing them aside before leaning in to lick a path up your stomach towards your breasts again. You freeze because of your exposed sex; your wetness has already flowed down your thighs.

"I'm going to make sure you scream for me."

"Pretty sure of your skills?" The bratines never left your body; you were lucky that John was a soft dom, and you would regret your bratines sooner or later on Simon's Day.

"You have no idea," John growled, his voice thick with desire. He took your hardened nipple into his mouth once again, sucking and biting gently before moving on to the other one.

"John, I need your mouth somewhere else." You slowly grew impatient, your hole almost begging and crying to finally be stuffed.

"Oh? And where would you like that?" he asked, his voice still rough with lust. He continued to tease your nipples, flicking his tongue over them as he waited for your answer.

"You know where," you whined, hoping he wouldn't let you say it. For fucks sake, you were a medical professional, but you couldn't say that you wanted him on your vagina, stuffing you so badly that it reached your cervix.

Price smirked knowingly. "I've got a few ideas," he replied, his hands sliding down your body. Before he picked you up and laid you down on the kitchen table.

"A fine meal needs to be eaten on the dinner table." You blushed at this sentence.

He looked up at you, his eyes burning with desire, as he took in the sight of your exposed, dripping cunt. "You're so wet for me," he whispered before lowering his head and pushing his tongue into your pussy.

You screamed loudly at the sudden friction grabbing his hair.

John moaned at the taste of you, his tongue lapping up your juices eagerly. He used his hands to spread your legs wider, giving him better access to your most sensitive spots.

"That's it," he growled. "Let me hear you scream."

"John," your moan filled the whole house, and you just hoped you didn't wake Johnny up. Poor boy needs his sleep.

"Fuck, yes," Price panted between licks and thrusts of his tongue. He reached up to grab one of your legs, pulling it over his shoulder as he continued to eat you out.

"mhm feels so good." You moaned, your eyes closed.

"John hummed in response, his tongue swirling around your clit. He reached up to squeeze one of your breasts, eliciting a moan from you. "You feel so fucking good," he murmured, loving the way you were responding to him.

He pushed two fingers into your tight hole, fucking them in and out while he continued to eat you out.

"Don't stop," you begged and felt a bit pathetic. You let an unknown man eat you out, which wasn't the worst part. You let seven fucking men breed you.

"I won't stop," he promised, his voice low and rough with desire.

You shook completely under him, screaming in pleasure. He moaned at the sounds you were making, his arousal growing as he felt your body tense and quiver under him.

He picked up the pace, his fingers thrusting deeper and faster, while his tongue worked overtime on your clit.

"I'm going to---- fuck." you screamed.

He felt your walls clench around his fingers, signaling your impending orgasm. "Cum for me," he growled, sucking even harder on your clitoral area, leaving a small bite on your clit.

And for the first time in your life, a man was competent enough to let you reach an orgasm, and it felt better than everything you felt in your life before you saw stars shaking like you had an exorcism, and so you came squirting all over His tongue. He groaned in delight, his tongue thrusting deep into your pussy to catch every drop of your sweet nectar.

He continued to lap at you, savoring the taste of you as he held your hips down firmly, not allowing you to take away his meal. You thought they looked starved when they ate your food for the first time, but this was a completely new level of starving.

"Fuck," you were a bit embarrassed as you saw the wet puddle on the table and his beard completely drenched." I never squirted before. I'm so sorry," you apologized, your cheeks burning red.

He chuckled, raising his head to look at you. "There's nothing to be sorry about," he assured, his voice filled with warmth and understanding. "I've never had a woman squirt before, either."

"Was it bad?"

He smirked. "Oh, I'd say it was fucking incredible." He pulled his fingers out of your puffy hole slowly, licking them clean before leaning in to capture your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. You could taste your cum on his tongue, and it was so messy and hot at the same time.

"Do you want me to suck you off, or do we go straight to the fucking part?" You asked, wanting to make him feel good too.

He stepped between your spread legs, his erection jutting out proudly. He looked down at you with a predatory grin, his hand reaching out to cup one of your breasts. "As much as I love to see you on your knees for me, we can't waste an ounce of cum, sweetheart."

"Can you go in slow? I didn't have someone inside in years," you asked, afraid, especially not someone so thick. His dick was perfect, comfortable, 7,5 inches curved to the right and fucking thick, and he had a vein that probably would press against your G-spot perfectly, and fucking beautiful dark curls between his legs, making him seem only more masculine than he already was.

He nodded and positioned himself at your begging entrance, teasing you with only the tip of his cock before slowly pushing inside. "You're so fucking tight," he groaned, savoring the feeling of your warmth enveloping him.

"God, you're the biggest I ever had." He almost pulled you apart; it burned to take him inside, and without proper preparation, you sure as hell wouldn't be able to take him.

John chuckled at your words, pleased with the compliment. "You'll have to tell me how it feels when I'm balls deep inside you," he murmured, thrusting deeper into your shaking body.

Feeling you start to relax and take him deeper, Price began to move faster, his hips grinding against yours in a sensual rhythm. "Fuck, I love how you take my cock," he growled out between gritted teeth.

"Oh God"

"John is enough; no need to call me God Sweetheart." He picked up the pace even more, slamming into you with primal force. His free hand moved to grip your breast roughly, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. "You like that? You want more?" he asked breathlessly.

"I want your cum, John," you whined.

Hearing those words sent a surge of lust through his body. He pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into you, hitting your sweet spot perfectly. "Gonna cum all over your pretty little pussy, going to make you so full of my cum."

"Yes, John," you whine.

"Going to make you all round, going to fucking breed you."

You whined and moaned; the primal need to let him fill you up and mark you as his own filled you. You needed this, and not only for selfless reasons; you enjoyed it as much as he did it.

"You're going to beg me for my cock after this." He pounded into you harder, his dick twitching with anticipation. "Feel that? Feel how much I love fucking you?"

"Yes, feels so good." You whined, "Breed me, John." You didn't know what took over you, but you didn't care. Shame is for post-nut clarity.

Hearing your whine only made him more turned on. He slammed into you again and again, each stroke deeper than the last. "That's it, baby. Take it all. I'm going to fill you up so fucking good." John leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'm going to make you a mommy," he growled out before slapping his massive cock against your g-spot once more.

He could feel his impending release as he continued to thrust into you; he never had something perfect like you—such a good woman between his filthy, not-worthy hands. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you tightly as he pushed deeper into you than ever before. You felt him hitting your cervix.

"That's it, baby. Take my cum. Let me empty myself inside you."

"Yes, please, Daddy, cum in me."

Price groaned loudly as he felt himself erupting inside you. His hips bucked wildly, driving his cock even deeper as hot, thick cum filled your wanting womb. He held nothing back, emptying himself into her before finally pulling out with a wet pop. "There you go, baby. That's what a real man does to his woman."

"And I'm your woman?" You asked completely out of your mind, probably about hormones.

John smirked, pulling you into his arms. "You sure as hell are." He kissed you passionately.

"Now we need to make you a mommy."

"Well, you already came to me," you giggled.

He rolled his eyes. "I've got plenty more where that came from, sweetheart." He traced his finger down your stomach. "Now let's see about making you a baby; besides, I don't want any of these muppets making you pregnant before me." You didn't strike him as the jealous type since he shared you with seven men, but maybe it was the thing about being the first that fueled him.

"You have the stamina for a second round? Price grinned, giving you a wink.

"With you? Hell yeah." He pulled you close and kissed you again, starting to nibble on your ear. "And this time, I'll make sure I hit the back of that sweet cunt of yours." He carried you to the bed and laid you down.

The bed dipped at his weight, his hard cock still rock-hard against his stomach. He positioned himself between your legs and looked into your eyes. "Ready for round two, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy." You knew how crazy it made him when you called him this.

Price leaned down and captured your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he thrust his hips upward. He groaned into the kiss, feeling the head of his cock push against your entrance once more. "God damn, you feel good."

You put your legs on his shoulders. He imideatly kissed your ankles and hit you deeper with every thrust. He couldn't help but moan in pleasure. He looked into your eyes as he began to move his hips back and forth, slamming into you with each powerful stroke. "Fuck, you're so tight."

You clenched around him, and it only fueled his primal instincts. "That's right, baby. Let's make you a mommy." His fingers dug into your hips, pulling her closer as he continued to pound into you.

"Mhm, going to cum soon, John," he grinned as he heard your moan.

"That's it, baby. Let it out." He felt your cunt clench around him as you shook from the orgasm he had just given you.

"Thank you, Daddy."

"You're welcome, Dove. Now let's see if we can get you pregnant." With that, he pulled out of your pussy and rolled over onto his back, beckoning you to straddle him once more. "Ride me until you're ready for another."

You let your hips fall on his thick cock, whining as he spread you in half, and so you began to ride him, your boobs jumping up and down.

He moaned at the sight of your ass bouncing against his full balls as you rode him hard. He grabbed your hips tightly, helping you to move faster and harder on his shaft. "That's it, baby. Ride me until you can't take it anymore."

He reached up, grabbed one of your perky breasts, and began to play with your nipple while you rode him. "Do you want me to crawl inside you again, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy," you nodded and clenched around him just at the thought.

Price loved the way you answered. "Then keep riding me, dove." He pulled on your nipple gently, watching as you let out a small cry of pleasure. He continued to play with your breast while he watched your ass bounce up and down on his cock.

"That's it, baby. Show Daddy how much you love his cock."

"I love it so much, Daddy."

He groaned as he felt your pussy clench around his cock. "Oh, fuck yes. You feel so good." He continued to play with your breast while he started to circle your clit while you rode him.

John's voice dropped to a whisper as he spoke his darkest desires into your ear. "I want to fuck you in every hole, dove. I want to mark you as mine and give you all the babies you want."

He continued to rub your clit in small circles as you rode him harder. Price could feel his orgasm building quickly. That's it, baby. Give Daddy what he wants." He reached up and pinched your nipple hard, watching as you let out a sharp cry of pleasure.

"I want you to cum for me, baby. I want to watch you squirt all over my cock."

"Mhm, fuck," you moaned. You couldn't take it any longer.

He continues His work on your abused clit Till you clench around him and squirt all over His dick.

John groaned as he felt your pussy clench around his cock and squirt all over him. "Fuck, yes. That's it, dove." He continued to rub your clit even after you came, wanting to draw out every last drop of pleasure from your body.

"Too much, Daddy," you whined as he overstimulated you.

Price chuckled softly at your whines, his fingers still working on your clit. "Sorry, dove. Did I go too far?" He asked teasingly, knowing full well that he hadn't. Instead, he loved pushing your limits and seeing just how much you could take.

"That's it, dove. Give Daddy all of it." He whispered in your ear before pulling out of your wet pussy and slapping his hard cock against your slick mound once more. "Daddy going to fill you up now, and you're going to take everything, understood?"

You were too fucked out to talk; you just nodded.

He fucked with a mean pace into you, his balls slapping against your ass, leaving his mark, but that wasn't enough; he needed to mark your breasts too, to show everyone he was the first to have you - the first to hopefuly impregnate you. You were his, and he was only a good captain for sharing his priceless angel. A pure act of selflessness from him.

With a final thrust, he erupted himself inside you. Hot, strips of his sticky cum painted your inner walls white. "Take it, sweetheart, let me fill you up." He pushed his cum in your hole all over again and then removed his dick out of your red, swollen cunt. He held your legs up. "I don't want my cum to flow out of you before the job is done."

You thought he would leave after the act, but he didn't, so his affection was real. He cleaned you up with a towel, massaging your sore thighs and almost forcing you to drink enough water since you squirted so much. "Did it feel so good for me, Sweetheart? I never had such a perfect woman before," he whispered against your skin. " Gonna worship you and give you everything you need, okay?"

You nodded and cuddled against his fury body, easily falling asleep after this activity.

#cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #call of duty #tf 141 #smut #tf 141 x reader #tf141 smut #john price #captain john price #john price x reader #john price x you #breeding k1nk #zombie #ghost fanfiction #simon ghost riley #john mactavish x reader #kyle gaz x reader

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dmitriene · 1 year

Text

ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ.

❝ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 ❞ 𝘻𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳.

❝ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 ❞ 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘶𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘺.

❝ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 ❞ 𝘓𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛 𝘚𝘔𝘜𝘛, 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘥𝘶𝘣 𝘤𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢, 𝘥𝘳𝘺𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦.

❝𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦❞ 𝘪 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘢𝘮 𝘪 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘢𝘭𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

The world has turned into a nightmare.

A viral outbreak has engulfed an underground military base, spreading like wildfire.

Panic, chaos and isolation had become the new normal and as you sat alone in your dark house, your heart ached with worry for Simon, your lover.

You recalled that fateful day when he left for his mission, his strong arms around you, his lips softly brushing against yours as he whispered — «I'll be back soon, love»

Little did you know that it would be the last time you'd feel the warmth of his embrace.

Weeks had passed since that fateful goodbye and you couldn't help but replay that moment in your mind, the taste of his lips, the warmth of his embrace, Simon calling you when the virus first broke out, his soothing voice assuring you that everything would be fine.

You sobbed into the phone, overcome with fear, but his words and the words of his comrades convinced you that they would return home unharmed.

But as the days turned into weeks, the news grew grimmer, the base was locked down and your calls to Simon went unanswered.

You clung to hope, ignoring the growing sense of dread that settled in your chest, until one day, instead of Simon returning, a letter arrived at your doorstep, it was from the army, and you knew what it meant before even reading it.

Your trembling fingers traced the words, polite and formal at first, gradually morphing into condolences and the dreadful confirmation that he had died trying to protect his team inside the abandoned underground base.

You clutched his dog tags to your chest, the metal cutting into your skin as you fell to your knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

The pain was unbearable, the loss was too great, your life became a desolate, empty space, an emptiness where there once was love and warmth.

From that day on, your life felt empty.

Friends and comrades reached out, offering condolences and encouragement, but you couldn't bring yourself to move on, you locked yourself inside your house, spending endless hours in bed, the pain of loss weighing you down.

Unbeknownst to everyone, Simon was not truly gone.

The virus had found a home within his body, refusing to let him succumb to death entirely, he had become a creature teetering on the brink of life and death, a zombie with a tenuous connection to his former self, his consciousness was clouded, but he clung to one vivid memory — your warmth, your love.

It was instinct, an inexorable drive that drove him forward, he had to find you at any cost.

The virus left him with one goal, one destination imprinted in his mind — the path to you, to your home.

Outside, the world fell into chaos.

The streets were overrun with the infected, the remnants of humanity struggled to survive, but Simon came through it all, a ghost among the living dead.

He retained some of his old skills, an uncanny ability to navigate treacherous, unknown terrain.

The journey was risky, full of danger at every turn — he encountered groups of survivors, some hostile, some desperate, but he avoided them all, driven by the sole desire to get to you.

His body had scratches from countless encounters, but he continued to move forward, his mind focused on the beacon of your love.

Meanwhile, you remained locked in your house, oblivious to the outside world.

The days blurred into each other and you couldn’t shake the memories of Simon, the love you shared and the emptiness that replaced it.

On a moonless night, while you lay peacefully in your bed, he returned.

The room was dimly lit, the soft light of the moon coming through the curtains gave the entire surroundings a soft silvery hue, you had just calmed down from your recent tantrum, the remnants of your pain still hanging in the air as if a storm had just passed.

Unbeknownst to you, your front door had been forced open, but you remained blissfully unaware, lost in your daydreams.

His grip on the doorknob went unnoticed and his frustration made him growl quietly as he struggled with it, leaning down and feeling the space under the rug, his movements oddly instinctive.

The key hidden there was easily found, Simon did not remember how he knew where it was, he could not explain, as if some primitive knowledge led him here.

With the key in his hand, he quietly entered your house, so quietly that it might have seemed like a ghost slipping through the door.

He moved with predatory grace, his senses heightened by an invisible force, the living room was scanned with an attentive, methodical gaze, and the door closed behind him with a quiet click.

Simon's senses heightened as he inhaled the familiar fragrance of your presence, it was intoxicating, making his growls turn into low, guttural moans.

It was a sound born of instinct, a desire that drove him forward, towards you.

He followed an invisible path as if guided by an invisible force, his movements were smooth, he paid no heed to the dirt he left on the floor, his sole focus on reaching you, the door to what was once your shared bedroom was open, the gateway to his final destination.

You lie under the covers, in the cocoon of your safe bed, unaware of something else that has silently invaded your space.

With deliberate care, he approached your bedside, the mattress groaned beneath his weight as he knelt, his decayed hand sliding up your waist.

You whimpered in your sleep, murmuring his name, the scent of your arousal filled the room, driving his animalistic desires further.

His fingers tugged gently at your lips, a gentle gesture that belied the growing tension in the room, and you stirred, turning away from him, and the blanket slipped, exposing your body in pajama shorts and a silk tank top that had ridden up slightly, revealing your waist.

Simon couldn't resist the temptation, his growl deepening as he leaned over you, one knee on the bed, his cold, clammy hand roved your waist, eliciting another whimper from you.

His hand moved deliberately, fingers tracing patterns on your bare skin as his hips instinctively jerked forward, eliciting a low whine from you as you sleepily whispered his name — «Ngh, Simon…»

Your scent intensified, a heady, intoxicating aroma engulfing him, and a familiar note in your voice as you reached out your hand to touch his face, repeating his name once again — «Simon…»

But something was wrong.

You glanced at your palm, eyes widening in horror at the sight of dried blood, panic surged through you, and you were about to scream when Simon covered your mouth with his mangled hand, muffling your cries — «No, please!»

You sobbed into your hand, tears welling up in your eyes, you struggled to breathe, the metallic taste of iron and the sickening smell of rotten flesh assaulting your senses as you felt his clothed bulge rubbing against the thin fabric of your shorts right in the middle of your clothed cunt.

Panic overtook you as you said his name in desperation and realization, recognizing him as Simon, but this Simon was no longer yours.

His grip on your waist intensified, there was an animalistic demand in his touches, his cold fingers contrasting sharply with your warm skin as he reveled in the feeling of the heat, his growl became more and more insistent and heavy, more faster.

You whimpered, your pleas muffled by his hand as he continued his relentless exploration of your body and the steady movement of his hips — «Simon, please, stop!»

Your mind was in a whirlwind of emotions, fear and desire fighting inside you, you whined softly, your eyes widened in horror and confusion and he stopped for a moment, his hand now caressing your cheek, his growl softening as if he was trying to comfort you, to convey that he was still here.

And then, with a sudden, savage motion, he sank his teeth into your neck.

As his sharp teeth pierced your skin, you couldn't suppress the guttural scream that escaped your throat — it was a primal scream of agony, an instinctive reaction to the excruciating pain coursing through your body.

Blood gushed around the wound, an ominous crimson stream running down your neck in a slow, never ending cascade as the metallic taste filled your mouth, mixing with the acrid smell of the room.

You could feel the warmth of your life's essence flowing down your skin, a sensation both nauseating and frightening.

The strange throbbing pain continued at the side of the bite — it rushed through your body like a foreign feeling — as if every nerve ending was on fire, sending sharp electrical pulses of pain through your limbs.

Your muscles tensed and twitched involuntarily, a cruel reminder that you were powerless against this terrifying intrusion.

Your heart was pounding wildly, its relentless pounding adding to the agony as it pumped your life blood faster and faster.

The room seemed to spin, your vision blurred as darkness approached the edges of your vision, you felt dizzy, disorientated, as if your entire being was being drained.

And then your vision began to blur, and you felt that you were losing consciousness, and the world around you was disappearing.

In your final moments of awareness, you heard his hoarse voice, distorted and distant, but filled with possessiveness, uttering a chilling statement that sent a shiver down your spine

— «You're mine»

And then everything went dark.

taglist: @roseglazedlens, @scar-crossedlvrs, @daydreamrot, @valsthea, @kennedyswhore dm me if you want to be tagged in my works or open my taglist.

#[ ✒️july writing ]#simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fic #simon riley x you #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley fic #simon riley fanfic #cod fanfic #cod fic #zombie!ghost

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tanked-up · 1 year

Text

SOAP IN THE NEW ZOMBIES TRAILER

(also when he said “little one” caused something I swear-)

#Soap’s just too much #ghostsoap #call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #cod modern warfare #kate laswell #laswell mw2 #modern warfare ghost #cod video #zombies cod #zombies trailer #modern warfare fanfiction #ghost mwii #ghost x soap

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nomizombie · 9 months

Note

hmm clingy bodyguard könig x reader?

Clingy Bodyguard!König x GN!Reader

[SFW/Fluff...ish?] ; gender neutral reader, no usage of y/n, some swearing

[A/N] ; omg!!! sorry it took a little long i was conflicted about what i should write for this prompt... :,)

"I said, you don't have to come with me this time."

"I'm not allowed to let you out of my sight, as per my contract."

You let out a sharp huff and cross your arms. No matter what situation, where you're going, or who you're with, König is constantly insisting he comes with.

"Holy shit! I'm just going to the store a few blocks away! You don't have to tail me for that." You hiss at him. This always happens when you try to go out.

"You could get hurt on the way there! Scheiße- what if some delinquent decides to rob and stab you!?" He shoots back, eyebrows knit in concern.

"Oh. My. God! It's literally a ten-minute walk!"

"I don't care how far it is. I'm coming or else you don't go. I'll lock all the doors in this house if I have to." He narrows his eyes at you and the jingling keys strapped to his waist tell you he isn't bluffing.

A heavy sigh leaves your mouth and you give in, despite your protests.

"Alright, fine. Let's go." you comply.

Still, once you two have reached the store, he continues to trail close behind like a lost puppy, or more accurately, a wild animal chained to you who glares at anyone who gets just a bit too close.

König continues to insist that his contract forces him to cling when really, he just can't leave your side.

dividers by @mmadeinheavenn ^_^

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bzurk · 4 months

Text

zombie!au 141 x reader

dark content ahead! you've been warned.

It’d been hard at first. Women weren't treated well when people turned on each other, both healthy and infected. You were lucky when the virus started;

You were a dog trainer, surrounded by canines trained in personal protection. It was easy to scare people off. On your travels, your pack grew, a congregation of man’s best friends who were left behind. You had a whole arsenal, eventually; hunting, tracking, attacking.

This winter, though, was particularly difficult. Game was scarce, the ground frozen solid, the older dogs weakened by sore joints and aching limbs. You had run out of supplies weeks ago, trading your trained mutts for scraps and tools. Your only companions were your two remaining dogs, your only hope the compound in the distance, surrounded by wires and gates. The facility's noise, perhaps, was scaring off any nearby game. Maybe, it was already infected. Your doubts were alleviated when you saw little shadows moving about the tarmac.

You walked up to what you hoped was the front gate, arms raised and guns holstered, dogs plastered at each side.

“I come peacefully!” You bellowed, staring straight through the chain links towards the silhouetted figures. They grow closer, slowly, weapons raised and glinting blindingly under the sunlight. “I mean no harm. I would like to know if you have any food to spare. I can trade you for it.” You swung out an arm to gesture to your dogs.

The men wore fatigues and vests, packed with gear and weaponry. Well-equipped. They must have food, fresh game, stocks of MREs, dried rations.

“What you offerin’?” A man’s rough voice called back.

“Can take one of the dogs, if you’ve got enough of worth. I don’t part with them easily. Both trained, they are. Good at keeping out infected.”

It wasn’t long before Price’s three subordinates were staring at him with wide, pleading puppy-dog eyes. “Can we keep ‘em, Cap, please please please?”

Price had to admit you were a sight. Tousled, blood-stained, covered in tattered winter clothes that could barely keep out the cold. A hunting rifle strapped to your back, knives peaking from your pockets. A capable girl. Not many women out this far. He hadn’t come across one in months, not since venturing to trade with nearby settlements. Three or four months, at the least.

“Would you like to come in, love? Looks like you could do with a night of rest.”

They were nice, these four men, if not overly charming and kind. But they were nice enough to let you, and your dogs, in, even providing a tour of the premises – insisting guns were left at the door, of course. You were correct in assuming they were well-stocked. They confirmed they’d been residing in the base since outbreak day, though people came and went. They fed you, and even your two dogs. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the human company.

The base was a stark contrast to the wasteland outside. Boxes of food and warm blankets, running water, and electricity powered by a generator. The men showed you their hydroponic garden, where they grew fresh vegetables, and a storeroom stocked with preserved foods and medical supplies. It was a veritable haven.

They introduced themselves: Captain John Price, Lieutenant Ghost, Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish, and Sergeant Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick. They shared stories of their missions before the outbreak, their camaraderie evident in their banter and shared glances.

You felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you had found a place where you and your dogs could be safe, at least for a few nights. These men were skilled and seemed trustworthy enough, and their compound was secure. It was enough to put your tired mind at ease.

Perhaps too at ease. It didn’t take long for your body to slump in your chair, almost sliding out of it, if not for the hands that held you steady. Your eyes were fuzzy, your hearing diminished to a faint ringing. You could feel a wet snout nosing your limp hand, firm and warm palms divesting you of your coats and the weapons hidden in your pockets, strong arms wrapping around your waist, your tummy digging into a warm shoulder as you were thrown around like a sack of flour.

“Nice little pack of mutts we’ve found, aye, lads? Don’t you worry, we’ll take good care of you. Train you up well.”

if this gets enough interest ill turn it into a fic

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crunchyheartbeat · 1 month

Text

Zombie apocalypse -Ghost-

TW: Zombies I guess It is a bit of a longer read compared to some of my other post.

This was hard, really hard in fact to wrap your mind around. Part of you was wondering if maybe you had lost your mind along the journey that you've had to take alone. Being left alone by isolating yourself on your own decision is one thing, but doing it because everyone you loved was taken from you by the dead, the biters, walkers, whatever the hell you want to call them, is something else interlay.

Your alone with a six foot zombie, covered in what seems to be army tactical gear and plenty of weapons on his body, just staring at you. Staring like your the only thing that is occupying the space in its brain.

Holding your knife tightly in one hand, crouched beside a couch hoping that it had missed your precense. You had killed the few zombies that were in the living room but you couldn't believe you somehow missed him. "Honestly it's over for" you thought to yourself. There is no way you can fight a zombie of his size. Maybe if you had better nutrition intake but up to this point all you have really eaten is bags of noodles and cans of beans.

He's not moving... He isn't attacking you... He is just staring...

As you slowly rise to your feet, your legs shaking and your knuckles turning white from holding your knife to tightly, you noticed that his jaw is broken. A bit of confidence makes you take a step backwards, trying to head to the door. If his jaw is broken then it will be harder for him to eat you.

As you slowly continue walking towards the door and looking at him, you see him slowly raise his arms. Eyes widening and a breath sucked in your ready to make the run the last bit of space that is left between you and the door. Counting the steps as you run. one. two. three. four. "waaagh" Stopping in your tracks and turning your head, you thought maybe you heard wrong. Did this thing just try to talk, just try to say wait. "waaagh" Soft and horse, it says it again. Eyebrows raising and fear striking through your body, you focus your attention to his arm, then his hand, then the bag of chips he seems to be holding in them.

"What do I do" You think to yourself. You are obviously imagining it, going crazy from the lack of anything social in your life up to this point. You've been surrounded by zombies for so long you think one is trying to be friendly. You watch as the zombie tosses the chips towards you. as far as it can throw with the few broken fingers it has. Another grunt passes the zombies lips, head jerking towards the chips, and walking towards the couch to sit down upon it. Lifting it's hand and patting the couch next to it to signal you to sit down.

If you would have known months ago when this outbreak started that you would come across a zombie that is capable of still holding on to some part of his past self then you wouldn't believe it, but being here with Ghost while he walks along side you, defending off any harmful things that you guys come across, your thankful for him.

So I have an absolute love for zombie ghost to begin with and I'm thinking of maybe adding a few more of these cause any zombie ghost fanfiction is French kiss not gonna lie. But I hope you enjoyed reading and let me know if you would like more of zombie ghost post!

#fanfic #fanfiction #call of duty #cod #simon riley #simon ghost riley #zombie ghost #zombie apocalypse #zombie simon riley

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luminousscorch · 2 months

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Weak

Simon Ghost Riley x oc (Clarissa), gore, angst, character death (au), mention of infected, MW2, zombies (au)

A mission involving a hostage is set into panic after an unforeseen visitor makes its intentions known.

word count: 1654 approx

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Siren had been alone with Task Force 141's hostage for 12 hours on the dot. She listened constantly on her comm for new orders, only checking in every hour to allow them some peace of mind. Other than that, Clarissa had received no new intel, learning bits and pieces of how their current mission was going from Price, who she was reporting to.

Their hostage had just fallen asleep and Siren took this advantage by eating for the first time in many days. She also took this moment to miss her battle buddies… and Simon… she had been away on missions for longer and the sniper only imagined that he felt the same way about her being gone with no news.

Swallowing, Clarissa threw her trash in an old garbage bin and threw some old trash over it. Old habit.

Doing a perimeter check and finding nothing but old bootprints from her force, Siren returned to the old wooden house and sat down to clean her guns. She didn't usually do something like this on a mission but her anxiety was making its way up her spine like frostbitten vines, determined for her to return to the inner depths of her brain.

Clarissa Cole had just recovered from her first, and hopefully last, self-destructive mindset and everyday it lurked, just outside of the shadows, with its cold fangs and piercing green eyes to rip her down again.

Funny how even when you're actively trying to avoid it how it is still the only thing you think about; like a former addict to the thoughts of a high.

Her ears pricked at a sound. A growl. An animal, maybe? No armed force would growl to get her attention, right? Siren waited, still as stone as she strained for another noise, something that could either confirm or deny that their hostage and her were in danger.

None came.

Continuing to tear apart her guns, they lay scattered in front of her as she went through the motions. Take them apart, put them together….

"Your guns are an extension of yourself." A memory of Shepherd's visit at her boot camp echoed in her ears. "Remember every groove, every sound. Keep every piece close, know without thinking where each part goes. Danger is everywhere and imminent."

Another growl, louder this time, made Clarissa stop in her tracks. Fear gripped the back of her eyes as the woman slowly looked up at the window, which was clouded over and cracked. Her fear turned to terror as she saw the silhouette of a man just disappearing out of sight. She struggled to get a gun put together, Siren was never good at close combat and if this person was a danger, she would be easily outmatched.

Fitting the last part on her pistol, Clarissa barely had time to take the clip out of her pocket before the door almost flew off the hinges. Terror was not the word she would've used, it was something far worse, like her soul itself recoiled in her skin but Clarissa's body made no movement.

The thing that stood in the doorway was not human. It's eyes veined with blue, skin an ashen color, teeth yellowed and bloody were bared like an animal, clothes ragged and torn, the growl it was emitting was dry and cracked, white foam bubbled at the corners of it's mouth.

Siren quickly gained her bearings, spinning on the ball of her foot and trying to dart to the hostage's room. Before she could reach the hallway, the thing rammed into her side with a shriek, jaws snapping.

Clarissa kicked at it, her pistol clip bounced across the old linoleum, leaving the woman to fend for herself. A roar rumbled in her throat but it was encased in horror as Clarissa realized nothing she was doing was deterring it.

Finally peeling it off her, Clarissa did a mix between a crawl and a run to the hostage room, fear in her seaglass green eyes as she heard the snarl behind her, met with its fingers scratching at her throat from behind. Speeding to her knife, Siren spun, simultaneously causing the thing's nails to scratch her neck deeply and stabbing it in the shoulder before using a kick to distance the two of them.

By now, the hostage was screaming. Blood gushed from the side of her throat as she used anything and everything in the room to block the door.

"Be quiet!" She growled at him before falling to the ground, adding pressure to her wound. Catching her breath in large gasps that dried her throat, Clarissa turned on her comms to everyone, not just Price this time, "I am requesting backup, something's wrong. I am injured. Again, I am requesting backup. S.O.S." She repeated herself three times before shutting her comms off. She couldn't bear to hear any of her men, her fiancé, her best friend.

Blood soaked through her fingers and she tore her jacket off and replaced it with that. The door was being pounded on, it had already been broken in places, the thing's eyes darted into the room and lingered on her… then it picked up the pace.

Facing death was a part of the job. Clarissa had been faced with it countless times but none had been like this. She ordered the hostage into the old closet and told him to keep quiet.

As the door splintered and caved, the woman remembered Soap's jokes, Wasp's friendship, Price's mentoring nature, Gaz's stories, but her thoughts lingered on Ghost, her Simon, whom she loved more than her heart allowed; the man helped right her, helped teach her that a man's touch could be good, helped teach her to love; the night before the mission, the two had spent it in each other's arms, loving as if it was their last.

The creature was almost through the door. Narrowing her eyes and picking herself up from the floor, Clarissa Cole was not going to die here.

···

Ghost's blood ran cold when Siren's S.O.S came across the comms. They had just dealt with a horde of infected people, the area was clear and they were due for extraction, he had even felt a twinge of excitement thinking about getting back to Clarissa.

He met eyes with Wasp, who was already looking at him with terror. She was alone. The team simultaneously began replying to her comms, begging for more information. The sound of the helicopter filled Ghost's ears as they climbed in and made an immediate u-turn to Siren.

Her silence made Ghost sick. He felt as if millions of ants were crawling over his skin, anxiety making his jaw clench. Soap put his hand on his shoulder and Ghost couldn't even look at the lad.

They could see from a distance that the door was open and Ghost felt bile climb his throat as the heli dropped them off, turning the engine off. Price pushed himself to the front of the group.

Everyone was silent as they stepped into the quiet house. Ghost swallowed thickly as he saw the scattered parts of her rifle on the table and floor, the clip in the kitchen. The hallway where the hostage was being kept was in front of him off to the right. A pit in his stomach grew bigger as Wasp stepped around him, paler than a sheet as he aimed his gun into the dark hallway.

Ghost finally found his bearings and followed close behind him. He almost dropped his gun when he realized the walls and floor were covered in blood, drops and finger trails.

When they got to the door, Ghost was holding his breath as Wasp reluctantly swung the destroyed door open and a loud shuffle gave him a flash of relief. As Wasp swung his flashlight around, Ghost saw that the room was bloodied, a body lay across the room in the corner, it was unfamiliar… unfamiliar and dead. That was a good sign.

"Siren?" Ghost's voice was the one she needed to hear so she would feel safe enough to let her guard down.

A low groan from by the closet alerted the team as they rushed in. Ghost quickly went to advance to his partner but a swift fist to the chest stopped him and he barked out. "What?" Simon's voice died in his throat as he saw her. The love of his life was unrecognizable; white skin, blue veined eyes, jaws dripping with gore as she looked up from the body of their hostage.

"Oh," Ghost's voice cracked as his knees buckled under him, "Oh, no."

He hit the ground the moment one of their guns went off, putting Clarissa to rest. He crawled to her and reached her with a shaky arm as Simon felt his vision blur with tears, her skin was cold as if it had been in the freezer, closing her eyes and wiping the blood from her mouth with his hand, Ghost weeped for the woman he loved.

The team around him was in shambles as they came to terms with the death. Price had to leave the room to request pickup for her body, Soap stared at Ghost and Siren shell shocked before leaving the room himself, Wasp was unmoving from the corner.

Ghost couldn't give two shits what they did right now. This was the woman he was going to propose to, he wanted a life with her, have stupid kids and live a domesticated life with… her S.O.S message played on loop in his head, the last traces of her voice. Feeling anger of the situation deep within his core, Ghost carried her outside to the heli, eyes teary but narrowed and angry… so angry at the events that unfolded here and before that. Simon Riley was not going to let her death be in vain.

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24kvlaks · 12 days

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Guys how old do you think I am?…..

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shinmiyovvi · 2 years

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UNDER THE RED MOON CONCEPT

As promised, I will introduce to you guys the concept of my Cod Zombies Au before showing you the character portraits and emblems 💖

Title: Under the Red Moon (Mostly focuses on Primis only)

(Note: These 5 countries are fictional and only inspired by real life countries.)

Plot:

Set in the 1920s, Aetheria, a land where it is divided by 5 countries; Schtulberg, Kirizaki, Yelenovsky, Maloñoz, and Bromden. Vampires hunt down their prey during the night as death rates keep getting high due to the casualties that every city of the country encounters. The 5 made an allegiance with each other to form a group of vampires who will aid the military for killing vampires, which is named Los Caballeros de Drácula or Dracula's Knights. They will hunt vampires through the night and will make sure to keep humanity safe from the clutches of the blood-thirsty vampires and rogues who will bring chaos to the land of Aetheria.

Characters:

Valena Villanueva (OC):

- First Lieutenant of the Los Caballeros de Drácula.

- Born in Savodiña, Maloñoz.

- A former marksman and works as a florist in their flower shop in Savodiña.

- Was bitten by a vampire while trying to save her parents and saved by an unknown group of human-turned vampires, making her a vampire as well with immortality and immunity from the sun.

Nikolai Belinski:

- A nobleman from Yelenovsky.

- Born in Anugrad, Yelenovsky.

- Aside from being a nobleman, he is also a writer.

- Was saved by Val from a vampire while having a stroll during a full moon.

Edward Richtofen:

- A scientist in Schtulberg.

- Knows much about vampires and usually makes technological weapons for the Knights.

- Born in Volkrieger, Schtulberg.

- Lost his parents when he was young.

- Has a little sister with him.

Tank Dempsey:

- A captain from the Bromden Army.

- Born in Oakridge City, Bromden.

- Aids the DK with any weapon that can repel the vampires.

Takeo Masaki:

- A swordsman under the Kirizaki Force.

- Born in Mizuna, Kirizaki

- Knows traditional techniques in taking down the vampires.

- Even though he uses traditional ways to kill his enemies, he also mixed his weapon with technological enhancements.

Organizations:

Los Caballeros de Drácula/Dracula's Knights:

- An organization where a group of vampires from different worlds hunt down monstrous vampires during the night. Mostly used technological weapons and their incredible abilities as vampires, Members of the DK have a tattoo on their neck with the logo of the organization. All of the members are not immune to the sun, which the organization made an extract that is mixed to the blood where they can be immune to the sun.

Catilisia Militia:

- A military organization in Maloñoz who use Maloñozan enhanced weapons as they build it with enchanted artifacts for their weaponry.

Bromden Army:

- A military organization in Bromden who aids the Red Moon with ammunition and weapons for their vampire hunting sessions during the night. They made technological weapons with the help of the blueprints from their neighboring world Schtulberg.

Kirizaki Force:

- A military organization in Kirizaki where these men use both traditional and technological methods of killing vampires. Their weapons are also made from blueprints from Schtulberg.

Group 539:

(Note: I just reversed 935 to 539 cause I ran out of ideas to name it.)

- A group of gifted scientists who help the 4 countries in aiding them by building and enhancing the weapons with the latest technology they can offer for the organizations, especially for the DK.

Slavidogrod Association:

- An association in Yelenovsky where trained men used heavy machinery and latest technological weaponry which are provided from Schtulberg. They also made their own enhancements of their weapons and exported them to the other worlds.

#codz au #fanfic concept #I can feel this fic would end up in the goddamn corner like the other three (⁠´⁠°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥⁠ω⁠°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥⁠｀⁠)#cod zombies #call of duty zombies #cod zombies fanfiction

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neoarchipelago · 1 year

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Does the fact I want to fucking jump Zombie!Ghost makes me a monster fucker?

Today's big question given to you by my mentally ill self.

Hi Mr psychiatrist... (He knows my Tumblr account)

#fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost cod #cod mw2 #zombie ghost

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nsharks · 9 months

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bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part sixteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.2k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

"I can't believe I woke up early for this."

You loosen your muscles, turning to dead weight in Ghost's arms, before using the awkward position to slip away.

"No one said you had to be here," Ghost throws over his shoulder before his gaze fleets back to yours. "Good. Again."

Blue groans as you reposition yourself for the basic defense maneuver. You can see why she'd find this boring— Ghost started you off with a move so basic it was almost insulting when he explained it. But you quickly realized his reasoning. Each time you do it, your pulse tampers down less and less while in his arms. He's had to remind you a few times to "Breathe, Twix"— the order so quietly uttered into the shell of your ear that Blue likely didn't even notice. Perhaps you have grown used to taking orders from him, or maybe having Blue close by is helping, because you've been able to ward off the threat of panic so far.

"Fine, I'm out of here," Blue rolls her eyes the second you've finished the move again. "Let me know when you—" she jabs a finger at Ghost, "—decide to make things more interesting." As she leaps off the log she'd been perched upon, she adds: "Oh, and don't get too close, Ghost. She might bite."

"So I've heard."

Heat rises to your cheeks. And then— you're alone with him. You take a swig of water from the canister Blue lent you to ignore the awkward feeling in your chest. "Again?" You wipe your mouth. "Or have I passed your test?"

"Test?" he repeats, the gravel in his voice rolling over the word as his brow lifts in question.

"Well, I haven't... had a repeat of last time, and it's been an hour. I think I've proved that I'm ready for something a little more..."

"More what?"

More interesting.

"Hand-to-hand, I guess. Something harder."

He rubs his jaw, as if to feign consideration. "Right, then. Let's try another one."

The next one he shows you is still simple, except you fail every other time. Basically, he gets behind you and you have to sidestep to avoid the trap of his arms. Somehow, Ghost's movements are light as a feather even though he's built like a rock.

But then you get better at it. The next two days pass in much the same manner until you start to react a bit faster. He teaches you a few more basic tactics. How to wriggle your wrist out of someone's hold. How to avoid being grabbed from the front by rolling to the ground. All defense. After hours spent with him, he doesn't even have to remind you to breathe anymore. Chopping wood in the evenings helps, too. You go to bed exhausted and wake up ready to practice before Ghost even touches your shoulder.

On the third day, he gets you up even earlier. You cram your wool-covered toes into boots, confine your hair in a hasty bun, and follow him to the clearing that has become your makeshift training ground. It takes you a moment to register that some things are different: his boots have been replaced by sneakers, and his jeans by loose, black gym shorts. The exposed skin is strange, making your eyes widen. If Blue were awake, she'd certainly comment.

His calves mirror the strength of the rest of him, and on the left leg, swirling ink catches your eye, reminiscent of the tattoos you discovered when tending to his wound. Skulls and a dagger; perhaps corny, but fitting for him.

"Have you tried it?" His voice cuts through your thoughts.

"Tried what?"

"The bow."

A white cloud forms around your mouth as you nod. "Needed some getting used to, like you said."

Yesterday you had a hard time shooting a chipmunk you wanted for lunch, so you spent the early afternoon firing arrows at oaks until the new bow started to feel like an extension of your limbs again.

"Let me know if I need to adjust the string."

"Will do," you say, almost mumbling.

When you reach the familiar circle of trees, you bounce once on your toes and crack your knuckles. Ghost retrieves something from his pocket. A roll of gauze. It is tossed at you without warning, and your hands fumble to grab it.

"Wrap up," he commands. "Your hands will thank you for it."

You look up at him, brows raised, but begin covering your palms and knuckles. When you're done, you throw the roll back to him. Ghost stretches his arms above his head and splays his feet into a firm stance, jerking his chin at you in a go-ahead motion. Your brows furrow as you try to understand what the fuck he's doing.

"Go on. Get ready."

"Um. Ready for what?"

"A little hand-to-hand."

Your mouth falls open. "What?"

He shrugs. "That's what you wanted, right? I think you're ready for it."

"That's not what I meant," you almost laugh, shaking your head. "I didn't mean I want to— to fight you. I just meant we don't have to stick to the basics."

"We won't." There is the slightest trace of amusement in his voice, so faint you wonder if it's even there. "You have ten seconds to get ready, Twix."

"I don't even—" you sputter, eyes flying open. If you weren't awake before, you are now. He seems completely serious, his hands in fists and his shoulders squared.

"Five."

"Oh, fuck me," you exhale, balling up your bandaged hands. Did he get you up at this hour so there was no chance of Blue joining? He didn't want her to watch him finally annihilate you? You don't think he would seriously hurt you, not after everything, but that doesn't mean your heart doesn't begin to thump wildly when the seconds are up. Neither of you makes the first move; you are focused on keeping yourself distant, and he is circling you like a predator, flicking his eyes along the length of you.

"What the fuck is that stance? I could just tap you and you'd fall over." His amusement has faded. "Is that how I showed you to stand when chopping wood?"

You shake your head, teeth gritted, and fix it, spreading your boots against the soil.

"Better."

Then, he's lunging. You forget everything about your stance and prance to the side like a skittish deer. There is a moment of relief when you successfully dodge him, only for it to abruptly end when he darts around your back and hooks an arm around your neck. Your heart skips over a beat. Holy shit is he fast.

"Be aware of your surroundings at all times," he chastises against the top of your hair. His hold is not aiming to fully restrain you, so when you claw your nails into his arm, it loosens and you slip away, staggering three strides before facing him with your fists up.

"What's the point of raising your fists if you're not going to hit me?" Ghost circles you again, and you have to shift your feet to keep up with him. "Come on, nurse. Where should you aim?"

"You're too tall." Your chest heaves. "I... I can't reach your face or neck without you blocking."

"Use the height difference to your advantage. Reach places that I can't."

You pause to think about it, studying him.

Ghost almost growls. "Stop hesitating. I could have killed you by now."

A mix of annoyance and determination makes you leap forward, jabbing your knuckles at the part of him where you know his liver would be. He captures you by the elbow before the blow can land, and sends you stumbling to the side, a few wisps of hair cascading over your face.

"Liver. Not bad. I might've let you have it if you moved quicker."

A hiss leaves your lips as you whirl around and punch directly into his core this time. He allows the hit, but your knuckles ram into solid muscle instead of the vulnerable stomach you hoped for, and you recoil with a wave of your hand, cussing under your breath.

"You hurt yourself more than you hurt me."

"Well, should I just kick you in the dick then?" you retort without thinking, flexing your fingers. Luckily, the gauze absorbed most of the damage.

"That's always an option."

His tone is serious, to the point that you almost give it a try, but then he's closing in on you again, sending you back to the defensive. He doesn't hold back. You run in circles and duck frantically, earning a few hits to your ribs. He doesn't use enough force to send you down to the ground, but enough to knock the wind out of you. Rapid breaths fire through your lungs and beads of sweat percolate your hairline. Ghost, on the other hand, appears unaffected.

"Fight back," he says in a mild voice; almost bored.

You nearly throw your arms up. "I would if you'd give me a fucking chance."

"You said not to coddle you."

"I'm aware. That doesn't mean you have to—"

Your spine suddenly meets something hard. A tree. He's backed you into it without you even realizing. When Ghost takes another swipe, you dip your head down and then use his recovery time to grab onto a branch and hoist yourself up.

You're barely perched upon it when a hand grips your ankle and drags you back down, an audible gasp reverberating in your chest as you land flat on your back with Ghost on top. His hand quickly cradles the back of your skull before it can crack on a hard tree root, while his other hand captures both of your wrists.

"You good?" Although he is the one who has you effectively pinned, his tone seems sincere. He scans your face from your forehead to your parted lips.

"Just... peachy."

His brows furrow. "What was your plan once you got up there?"

Labored breathing splinters your voice. "I didn't have much of a plan, really."

He speaks flatly. "I can tell."

"You had me cornered," you point out.

"You should have been—"

"Aware of my surroundings," you finish for him, exhaling deep through your nose. "I know."

Your eyes shift around, from his covered face to where his chest just barely presses into yours. It's all so close. Uncomfortably close. You can feel the steady pace of his heart against your sternum, and make out the faintest flecks of green in his eyes.

An ounce of fear and something else you can't quite discern balls up in your stomach, making you swallow. You've been pinned like this before and nearly had your face eaten. Ghost simply stares at you, as if waiting for you to make a move, but when you tug on your wrists, his grip doesn't relent.

"Could you... could you maybe get off of me?"

He shifts some weight off you, if only by a little. "Relax and think," he murmurs. "What are your options here?" The curve of his lips tightens before he adds, "Besides biting my nose off. I'd like to keep that for now."

With a sigh, your eyes slide up to the awakening sky. Hues of violet and orange stare down at you. "Do I... do I even have any options? You must weigh like a ton." The words are past your lips before you can shut your mouth.

"You always have options."

"Doesn't mean any of them will be effective," you say.

His eyes darken, and the green disappears. "Why do you do that?"

"Um... do what?"

"Doubt yourself. After all that you have survived." He sounds irritated.

"As if you haven't doubted me?" You can't help it; you scoff. "You told her I wouldn't come back that time I went on my own. I mean, I'm still weak, remember? No amount of chopping wood will make me as strong as you or those men who almost killed us."

"It's not about strength," he replies.

"That's easy for you to say," you wiggle your wrists for emphasis. "You have nothing to be afraid of. You were cut out for this shit from the start."

"I have everything to be afraid of." His eyes narrow, but his voice softens. "And so were you."

"Me?" Your voice slightly elevates, and a lick of anger curls within you. "I should be in grad school right now, or maybe I would've quit nursing and gone into something useless and hate my life, but I was never meant to kill anyone, let alone fight them. I was meant to be young and stupid and make mistakes. Now, if I make a fucking mistake, it will cost me my life." Your nostrils flare as you huff, sending a piece of hair flying up into his face, and you writhe beneath him. "Get off of me, Ghost."

But he doesn't.

Beats of silence linger in the small gap between your bodies.

You should feel embarrassed for saying all those things, but instead, you think about what he said:

Don't hesitate.

The ball inside you is a fiery mix of emotions that you usually try your damn hardest to ignore and break and shove away.

But now you let it spread through your body like a sizzling tide, from the tips of your fingers down to your toes and... to your knee. Before you can change your mind, you slam it upward as hard as you can into the apex of his groin.

"Fuck," Ghost mutters, the only sign of any pain aside from the brief moment that he closes his eyes.

His hold loosens only by a little, but it's enough for you to slip out from under him and find your way back to your feet, your chest rising and falling.

He clears his throat after a moment and rises.

"Good." The two of you share a stare-off for a few seconds before he shakes his head, saying again: "Good, Twix. More of that."

You rip your gaze away from him, cheeks hot, and say nothing as you snatch the canister and bring it to your lips, but the water does little to cool you down.

You shiver in the bitterness of twilight, your fingers red and numb, wishing for a pair of gloves. The fireflies are coming out, dots of luminescence darting around you. You swing the axe down again, throat raw as you grunt, and then you add the broken logs to the growing stack. Sudden light footsteps announce the end of your alone time.

"It's me," Blue greets kindly.

You drop the axe, hands feeling stiff, and turn to face her with a breathless smile. "Hey. What are you doing out here?"

"Checking on you. Ghost went hard on you this morning, huh?" she says with a sigh. "I could hear you guys. You were a bit... loud. Made it hard to sleep."

"Not too hard. I'm… I'm good."

If she is unconvinced, she doesn't comment on it. Rather, she hugs you. A warm one. You return the embrace before she pulls away.

"I also came because I wanted to invite you to a bonfire."

"Bonfire?"

"Well, with all your..." her eyes flicker to the pile of logs you've conjured over the past hour. "...special workouts, we have a lot of wood now. I told Ghost to make a big fire outside and we can cook dinner over it. It'll be fun, come on. Ghost is making tea, too."

Soon enough, your sore fingers are tingling, holding a warm, ceramic mug of tea. Ghost chucks another bundle of wood into the fire, spitting out smoke and embers, and sits on a tree stump while Blue takes the folding chair. Your hair is down, tucked behind your ears, and a patchwork quilt Blue grabbed from her room lays across your lap. The mug burns pleasantly against your lips when you take a sip, the herbal taste sliding down your throat. Whatever plants he used to make it work together perfectly. It reminds you of the tea your mom used to make when you were sick.

"Do you like it more well-done or is this okay?" Blue asks, meticulously spinning the skewered squirrel meat over the fire.

"That's good, thank you."

Ghost cooks their dinner, and the three of you eat and sip in a comforting silence. You avoid looking at him, opting for the starry sky above your head, where bold stars beam even brighter than the fireflies. It's quite nice. When you're done, you toss the bones into the fire and listen to them splinter.

Blue breaks the silence. "Would you rather be burned alive or be attacked by a bunch of squirrels with rabies?"

You take another sip of tea. "How many squirrels, exactly?"

She taps her chin. "One hundred."

"I think if it were fifty, I could handle them. One hundred, probably not. I'll choose being burned."

She makes a face. "That is a terrible death."

"Most deaths are terrible."

"Fair enough. Ghost?"

For the first time since this morning, you steal a glance. His elbows rest upon his splayed knees, and the orange flames reflect in his eyes as if they were twin black, mirrors. "I could handle the squirrels."

She snorts a laugh. "Even you can't survive rabies, though."

He shrugs. "Takes some time to kill you."

"Let's play a different game," you interject. "Maybe something a little less... morbid tonight."

"Like what?" Blue chimes.

You shrug indifferently. "What other ones do you know?"

"Not that many. You tell us one, Twix."

"Well, I know one good one. You have to act something out and then we'll guess what it is. But you can't talk."

"Oh, that's easy."

"Try it, then," you nod at her.

She leaps up from the chair, nearly spilling her tea in the process. Without hesitation, she puts on a stoic expression and begins shooting finger guns. Quiet laughter shakes your shoulders.

"Are you, um... Ghost?" you guess, making her throw her arms up.

"How did you guess so quickly?"

"It was a bit obvious."

"Not to me," Ghost murmurs. "Terrible impression, kid."

Across the fire, you glance at him again, and his eyes meet yours, reminding you of the events that took place and the words that you spat. Emotions pulse against your ribs, like a swarm of flickering fireflies, but you fail to catch and examine any of them.

A tug on your arm ends the shared look. Tea splatters around the rim of your mug as Blue ushers you up. "Your turn now."

"Alright, alright."

You decide not to feel humiliated with both pairs of eyes on you. They've both seen much stranger things than you act out a squirrel, which must be a good impression because Ghost guesses it right away.

A sudden crack of lightning in the distance puts an end to the game before Ghost can have a turn, which you suspect he is pleased about. He puts out the fire just before clouds roll in, blocking out the stars, and a drizzle of rain begins. Back inside, you kick off your boots and sink to the sofa as Blue says goodnight. Once she’s in her room, Ghost pauses in the threshold of the hall and speaks over his shoulder.

"Get some sleep. You'll need it for tomorrow, even if it's raining.”

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #fanfiction #cod #zombie apocolypse au

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mrsparrasblog · 6 months

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Mission save the human race Pt1.

Pt2

2090 Days since it happened since your life changed completely. You can still remember the day of the outburst like it was yesterday. You were stuck performing an appendectomy on a five-year-old, and then there were shots – the military evacuating us. You didn't take it seriously at that time; thought it would be like every pandemic, and there would be a cure soon. But after weeks spent with your family in a military camp, you knew it was nothing like this. You remembered how the military shot women who even got near to a zombie – too much of a risk that they could get infected. The irony of the whole thing was that women were the carriers of this unknown virus, while men only turned when they got bitten. Women turned by a simple scratch of a zombie, or when they died of any cause, they would turn in a glimpse of a second into these brainless creatures.

After it went completely downhill and more healthy people got shot without any remorse, your dad, brother, and you tried to flee out of the military base, resulting in your dad and brother getting shot, screaming you should just take their gun and leave as fast as possible. You never felt more remorse than leaving their corpses behind, but you had more than enough years to mourn them and pray for forgiveness. On the way to a safe place, you noticed small details, weird details. You got scratched, even bitten on the way, expecting to fully turn into a brainless monster – but you didn't, and to this date, you didn't know why. Well, there wouldn't be a lab anymore to find out anyway, so you just accepted it as a blessing first. But after a while, you learned the true curse of living in this shithole.

The survivors were scarier than the zombies and almost as inhuman as them – while most didn't try to hurt you since a surgeon always could get handsy in a zombie apocalypse, you still saw the horrors of self-proclaimed "Leaders" who killed in the most inhumane way just to prove their dominance. They weren't better than animals. You saw how different groups tried to start wars with each other to win resources and territory. There was still enough place and enough resources in the world for both of them to survive, so it was just a power play. If you had had a say in this, you would have tried everything to start a civilization with many people trying to rebuild humanity with strong people as guards, people farming, and people working in the infirmary, but no one ever listened to you. Why should they, as the Apocalypse proceeded, the hatred of women got only worse – "The reason for the apocalypse," resulting in women getting used, tortured, and raped if they weren't useful in other ways, and you thanked every day your mother who practically forced you to study medicine instead of law.

After months, you finally had enough and ran away from the camp – not tolerating the inhumane ways. You wondered if you were the inhuman one for leaving people there who you could have healed if you had stayed, but sometimes you needed to be egoistical, and you at least tried to stay as innocent as possible through the apocalypse. You lost everything but not your good heart which made you incredibly proud of yourself.

You didn't know how you survived this. You didn't have a particular skill set; sure, you were a pediatric surgeon before all of this, you were capable, you were smart, which probably led you to survive. But you weren't something that was of use like a soldier or police officer. God, before this Apocalypse, you didn't even carry your groceries to your apartment. You were screwed but somehow you still survived, with your one handgun that you nicked off the corpse of your dead dad. The irony was you didn't even use it in three years; you never used your gun – god, did you even know how to use it? You highly doubted it.

You claimed yourself a small cottage in the forest. It wasn't much but pretty well-hidden, and you built-in safety measurements so no walker could surprise you by night. You lived in a shithole but at least in a comfortable manner. The house had three small bedrooms, a kitchen with a tiled stove, a fireplace, a water source, and enough space outside so you could grow all sorts of vegetables and fruits. Pumpkins, potatoes, cucumbers, tomatoes, strawberries, and raspberries highlight your perfect garden. You even had some apple and cherry trees you took great pride in. Before all started, you couldn't say you were good at gardening; even your cactus didn't survive the neglect you put them through – but you used all your remaining time learning about farming and providing for yourself, growing plants you can use as medication. In your imagination, you would somehow manage to have some chickens and cows, but you knew it would draw way too much attention, and you liked your hidden lifestyle way too much for this to happen. You were quite naive; you thought this would stay this way until-.

You heard sounds from your garden – nothing unusual since some local animals came and tried to steal a carrot or two, but then the sounds of multiple men echoed.

"Fuck."

They blundered in weird ways, talking about finding a safe place and raiding something. You ran upstairs, grabbed your handgun, and hid in the closet.

"Fuck, here isn't anything useful," a man with a hoarse voice and a British accent cursed all my cabins violently.

"Johnny, you will get through this; you won't die on me," a man said with a worried voice.

"He has a fucking bullet in his shoulder; how can he fucking survive this?" A bullet in his shoulder, probably not gone through. If it didn't hit anything major, his survival rate would be 80% in a normal world, depending on the material of the bullet; he could survive or die. If it's lead and stays inside his body, he will be dead in at least 4 days from lead poisoning. If the wound isn't properly cleaned – blood poisoning. If they take it out of him and don't properly sew him – death. This man hasn't a high chance of surviving. You could at least triple the chance of his survival, but if you get out there, you would probably lose the chance of survival by several digits. Your morale was high; you swore an oath to help every human you were capable of saving, but was it worth more than your own life?

"Shut the fuck up," the worried man screamed at the other.

You decided to stay in the closet, a choice you'd later regret, your lack of courage weighing on you as survival seemed uncertain. Tears slowly started to fall from your eyes, running against your soft rosy cheeks. Your handgun was clutched tightly in your sweaty palms, your breath trembling from pure horror, convinced that today might be your last.

With a sudden grunt, the closet door swung open. Before you stood four imposing men, each holding big machine guns, and a fifth man, held by another, similarly armed.

In front of you was a middle-aged man with brown hair, a fishing hat atop his head, and the most amazing blue eyes you had ever seen. He was tall and muscular, with a well-groomed beard for an apocalypse. Handsome and scary simultaneously.

The second man was one of the most attractive individuals you'd ever laid eyes on. He had brown-golden skin, trusting brown eyes, and a cap perched on his head. His gaze held a mix of awe and confusion as he looked at you.

The third man was colossal, ripped with muscles, and possibly the tallest person you'd encountered. He sported a blonde buzz cut and blue eyes that glowed red, giving him an intimidating aura. With an unhealed scar across his eyes and some stubles, he probably was incapable of growing a beard because of the scar tissue.

The fourth man looked similar to the one with the fishing hat; the only difference was his dirty blonde hair and tattoo sleeves. You noticed the prosthetic leg and wondered whether it had been dealt with properly – you sure as hell could help him too.

The last one was the man who got shot, and held by the scary men. He was the shortest of the group but still taller than you by several inches. His hair was in a funny mohawk, and he was ripped – not a bit; he was built like a fucking powerhouse. You couldn't shake the thought away that if you had known him through med school, learning anatomy would have been different – all those muscles – focus.

You thought that your potential killers were all good-looking, each in different ways. Despite this, you still pointed your gun at them, and they held their machine guns at you.

"A woman – I thought they were all dead," the man with the cap said, making you curious. All dead? When you last left your forest two years ago, there weren't many women, but there were still some out there.

You gathered all your remaining courage, shaking as you said, "Leave me alone, or I shoot." They laughed at you. Okay, they had more people and bigger guns, but you could still harm at least one of them.

"Oh, dove, your gun is still secured," the man with the fishing hat said, trying to hold out a laugh.

You tried to fidget with your gun, but you didn't know how to unsecure it. So, you just lowered it and held your hands up in the air.

"We don't have time for this shit. Knock her out or something; we need to fucking save Johnny," the scary man said, sending shivers down your spine out of fear.

"If you don't kill me, I'll save your friend." Win-win situation; you'll survive, and your morals are saved.

"Shut the fuck up. How could a stupid girl who can't even use a gun save him?" the scary man screamed. You were sure that he had a special bond with this Johnny, sure as hell best friends or lovers by how he acted.

"I'm a surgeon; I can remove the bullet," you said.

"You're a surgeon?" the tattoo man asked in disbelief at your claim.

"Which field?" the scary man asked you.

"Uhm, I was a pediatric surgeon."

"Does he look like a fucking child to you?"

"Simon, we don't have much choice. It's better than nothing; he will die if we don't do anything," Fisher hat man tried to convince Simon.

Simon agreed. "What do you need?"

You were afraid to be a bit rusty, but you'll make it. "Okay, one of you will bring me as much water as he can gather, one needs to guard the door. I don't need any interruptions in my surgery. One needs to stay in the room; this will hurt as hell without proper numbing. My surgical equipment is in the closet by the bathroom, as well as the medication I produced. You need to tie him to the bed; I don't know how, and I don't care, as long as he doesn't try to kill me while I try to fix his shoulder, and I need a promise that I won't be killed if he doesn't survive."

"Yes, ma'am," the tattoo guy said and was on his way. All the men worked efficiently, making you wonder if they had some military background since they listened better than my old residents, at least.

The man who introduced himself as Kyle - by the way, the only one who introduced himself to you - tied Johnny to the bed. Everything was now prepared, and you tried to make this place as sterile as possible.

You sat down on Johnny since you couldn't stand properly by the bed for the surgery and had the advantage of holding him down with your body weight.

"Hey Johnny, this will hurt a bit, okay, but you need to be strong, okay?" You talked to him like with your child patients, but that didn't matter right now. Right now, it mattered to save him.

Johnny spoke completely drowsy from the pain, "Am I deid, Lt? Or how come dae I see an angel oan tap o' me?" You chuckled; even in pain, you noticed that that man was a total flirt.

"Shut up, Johnny, and survive," Simon said.

"Love ya, Lt."

"I love you too, idiot." You were right in your thoughts; they were indeed a couple and a handsome one. You couldn't shake the feeling away, though, that he probably would kill you in the most vicious way if Johnny didn't survive.

You slid your scalpel through him and started the surgery after at least six terrible hours of fear and exhaustion; you were finished; you saved him. You were a bit envious of Johnny; Simon stayed the whole time by his side without being grossed out or yawning for a second; they loved each other. You never experienced that kind of love and never will...

Now he only needs to survive the aftermath of the surgery, which will be harder for his body than the actual surgery since the adrenaline wore off. You were glad that you were able to nick some antibiotics and real medication from a nearby emergency station. You were always better safe than sorry.

You removed the blood from yourself and washed yourself with cold water, which felt like an eternity till you pronounced yourself clean enough. You put on some cozy clothing and walked to the living room where three men sat sandwiched on the small couch. Simon stayed by Johnny.

You planted yourself across from them and looked at them until Fisher Man Hat spoke.

"Thank you for saving our man; I'm John, by the way."

"Alex."

"Well, you already know my name; how can we call you?" Kyle asked you.

"Uhm, everyone always called me Dr. Angel, since the kiddies compared me to one," you replied, telling them the truth.

"Beautiful nickname for a beautiful woman," John said.

You couldn't hide a blush, and Kyle asked you how it came that you lived alone. You explained your life story without boring them for one second.

"Tell me something about the six of you."

"Uhm, we were special forces back in the days before everything went downhill. We protected some scientists who worked on a cure, but they didn't make it and died in one of their experiments. We are originally seven, but the other two are on a raid right now for our camp. I know we probably scare you, but if you want to, you can stay with us, no strings attached. We know how humanity changed, and being the only woman alive makes it even scarier, but we will protect you since you saved one of our own," John explained. You were still confused, only woman alive? How is this possible? Well, you were immune to the virus, but you didn't need to tell them right now since this would make you even more vulnerable.

"Only woman alive?"

"Yes, dove, the woman's got instinct with them, the human race." You gulped; your moral codex spoke to you again. Shouldn't you prevent that from happening? Or is this nature's plan? You didn't want to think about it further.

"Does anyone of you want to eat something? I'm starving," you exclaimed, trying to change the subject to something less uncomfortable.

"You don't have to feed us; you already did enough," Kyle said.

"Nonsense! I'm hungry, and I have more than enough vegetables to feed a whole army," you protested and walked towards your kitchen. You took out the preserved tomatoes and potatoes and wanted to slice them, but a tall figure already removed your knife from your hands.

"Let me help; it's the least thing I can do after you did so much for us," Alex said and started to slice the vegetables while you tried to heat your pot. The other two put plates on your small kitchen table, making it feel incredibly domestic for you. They looked like husbands caring for their wives, and you wanted to shake out the thoughts in your head. You were just underfucked from the whole apocalypse, but deep down, you knew they did something to you, made you feel a tight knot in your stomach.

You took one portion up to Simon, who still gathered around Johnny's bed. With a sudden movement, the tall man hugged you tight, almost crushing you with his sheer strength.

"Thank you for saving him and sorry for being mean to you."

"I understand; I'd do the same if someone I dearly loved would be injured in this hell of a life," he tried to pull a smile at my words. "Here's some hot food, and give Johnny his antibiotics in an hour, okay?"

"Hot food? I haven't had that since forever."

I laughed, "Get used to it, big boy." He raised a brow but didn't question it.

You went downstairs and saw the men laughing while waiting for you like true gentlemen. Kyle blushed a bit when you came down, and they instantly stopped their talk. You asked yourself what they talked about, maybe something that would be dangerous. They ate like starved men and told you how long they didn't have anything warm in their bellies, making you realize how lucky you were in your cottage with your grown food. The only thing you were missing was someone to warm your bed—stop it, you said to your inner thoughts.

You gave the remaining boys some blankets and showed them enough places to sleep, and as they didn't mind sharing, everything went perfectly. Alex took the patrol for the night, telling you it needed to be done even if you never patrolled for the last two years. The other men called you naive for it. You checked one time on Johnny if he had a fever or anything like that, but to your luck, he was fine, still asleep and high on medication. Simon slept beside him, and you couldn't stop yourself from putting a blanket on top of him. He deserved the comfort after taking care of his boyfriend that way.

John walked you down to your room, talking a bit to you, which gave you more comfort than you wanted to admit. You were a human after all, and humans missed humans when they lived two years in isolation to survive.

"Did you ever think about what it means for you to be the only woman alive?" he asked you.

"It's pretty weird to think about it."

"Kinda."

"I guess the human race will go extinct then."

"There are ways if you decide to—you know, save the planet and everything. You seem like a girl who always wants to do the right thing."

"You mean getting pregnant?"

"Exactly, saving the human race and everything."

"Would it be selfish if I let it die?"

"A bit, but it's your choice. I will always protect you from everyone who wants to take advantage of you. You're part of the team now."

"And what if I decide to want to save it?"

His eyes lit up. "Then, of course, I'd support you, like every man on this team. I think most of my boys wouldn't be repulsed by helping you to reach this goal." You blushed hard. Did he just tell you—shit.

"And what about you, John?"

"I'd be more than willing to participate. You're incredibly looking, dove, and I'm just a man behind all this."

"I'll think about it," but you couldn't shake away the feeling of them—you could have all of them.

"Take your time, dove." He kissed you on your rosy cheek and left you completely crazy alone with your thoughts. It was too long ago, and you felt the familiar feeling building up inside of you. Fuck it, you thought and decided to speak with them about it tomorrow. You're a good person after all, right? And that's what a good person does?

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dmitriene · 1 year

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ɪꜰ ɪ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴀ ᴢᴏᴍʙɪᴇ; ɪ'ᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴇᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴀɪɴ.

❝ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 ❞ 𝘻𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘹 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳.

❝ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 ❞ 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦.

❝ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 ❞ 𝘻𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘺𝘱𝘴𝘦, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵, 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴, 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

❝𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦❞ 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘪𝘬𝘵𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘢𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘴𝘰 𝘪 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦'𝘴 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯! ᠌ ᠌𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 — 𝘱𝘪𝘤 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 @ave661

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

The world fell into an eerie silence — a silence that resonated with deep seated fear.

The once bustling streets were now deserted, the echoing emptiness interrupted only by the distant growls and shuffling footsteps of the undead.

You were scared beyond words and fear gnawed at your heart as you tried to come to terms with the nightmare that had taken over your life.

— «God, this can't be happening» you whispered to yourself as you looked out the window and watched as a group of zombies shuffled past your house.

Neither you nor anyone else was prepared for the catastrophic events that unfolded.

The virus, a mysterious and merciless force, spread like wildfire, leaving destruction in its wake, people you knew or loved turned into grotesque predatory creatures, and the world turned into a realm of chaos and despair.

However, amidst the darkness that befell humanity, you clung to a glimmer of hope — Simon Riley.

He was your anchor, your support — Simon, an experienced soldier who had served in the army, had a unique set of skills that promised protection.

You fervently believed that he would protect you from the horrors of this new world.

Simon's voice cut through the tension in the room, his tone laced with determination — «We'll make it through this, together»

It was a belief that you held with unshakable faith, but the harsh reality of the apocalypse did not discriminate.

Even the strongest soldiers could not withstand the relentless onslaught of the undead, and Simon was not immune to danger lurking around every corner.

The day that will haunt your nightmares forever began like any other.

You were in the small, dimly lit kitchen, hastily preparing food from canned food you found during the reconnaissance mission you and Simon had been on together.

There was a hint of desperation in the air, but you tried to console yourself with the presence of the person you loved.

Simon came home that day and your heart sank when you saw him, dried blood clinging to his clothes like a creepy badge of honor and his demeanor embarrassingly quiet and tense.

Worry crept into your voice as you asked if something was wrong, but he brushed off your worries with a soft kiss to your cheek and then your lips.

The consolation was fleeting and he diverted your attention by asking about the food you were preparing.

You smiled, albeit with a hint of concern, and began to describe the impromptu dish you were preparing — «It's just some canned beans and vegetables, Simon, but it'll do»

Your words sounded like a mixture of mundane details and hope that everything could be okay as long as Simon was with you.

He listened attentively, but there was a growing concern in his eyes that was impossible to ignore.

As the days turned into weeks, Simon's behavior underwent an ominous transformation as his once stoic nature gave way to irritability and a creeping paranoia began to overwhelm him.

He began checking windows obsessively, his gaze constantly drawn to unseen threats.

— «Simon, you're scaring me» нou said quietly, reaching out your hand to stroke his face — «What's going on? You can talk to me»

But he dismissed your fears, offering vague explanations that only increased your fear.

The outside world was unforgiving and you clung to the hope that Simon would protect you, but his inexplicable behavior shattered that hope, leaving behind a gnawing sense of fear.

Then, one fateful evening, as you watched Simon through the doorway, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you saw this — an ominous bite mark on his shoulder.

Terror gripped you like a vice, your eyes widened in panic, without thinking, you retreated deeper into the room, seeking refuge under the safety of the blanket.

Your heart was pounding, and you desperately tried to convince yourself that this was a hallucination, a figment of your imagination, born of the horrors of this new world.

When Simon came out of the bathroom and walked over to you, laying down and pressing your back against his bare chest, you felt his lips on your neck.

His voice, laced with tension, asked if everything was okay, and you hesitated for a moment, fighting your fears, before finally, quietly, muttering — «Yeah»

Relief washed over you as you relaxed in his arms and closed your eyes, trying to escape the horror that was engulfing you.

You fell asleep but the worry still lingered in the back of your mind, little did you know that the nightmare had just begun and the darkness of the apocalypse was gathering around you.

The room was shrouded in a deceptive calm, a refuge of fleeting peace amidst the relentless chaos that had become your new reality.

You lay in bed, pressed against Simon's body, finding comfort in the warmth of his embrace — the faint, rhythmic sounds of your breathing mixing with his, a fragile symphony of hope in a world torn apart.

Simon's voice, barely louder than a whisper, abruptly broke through the silence — «You sure you okay, love?»

You nodded, your eyes heavy with fatigue — «Yeah, just.. can't shake this feeling of dread»

The night was quiet and your sleep was peaceful until an unfamiliar noise disturbed the peace, causing you to stir, awakening from the depths of your sleep with a sound that seemed out of place in the eerie silence of the apocalypse.

Sleepy, you sat up and looked around the room, searching for the source of your concern.

Your heart sped up as you realized Simon wasn't next to you, panic set in and you screamed his name in a quiet but insistent tone, the syllables hanging in the air — «Simon, where are you?!»

The only answer was a guttural growl that seemed to come from the shadows.

— «Simon?» you called again, and now your voice was shaking with fear.

But before you could understand the identity of this figure, before you could understand the pale, ghostly face that was slowly becoming visible, it rushed towards you with blinding speed.

Panic overtook you and a scream ripped from your throat as you stumbled backwards.

The flashlight fell from your hand and clattered to the floor, casting a crazy, chaotic light onto the stage.

In that fleeting moment, you saw him — Simon.

His once familiar face was now a grotesque, nightmarish parody of itself, his normal brown eyes pale and milky, devoid of the warmth and recognition that once inhabited them.

Horror filled you as you witnessed undeniable proof of his transformation.

The ominous bite on his shoulder exuded darkness and dark veins snaked out from it like tendrils of malice, your worst fears came true — Simon had turned into one of the undead.

Instinctively, you tried to back away, but he was faster, he rushed at you, his hands gripping your wrists in a vice grip.

Pain shot through your wrists as he squeezed them, and tears welled in your eyes as you sobbed in fear.

In that terrifying moment, when he suddenly turned his face towards your neck, a primal guttural sound escaped his twisted lips.

He was on the verge of giving in to his monstrous instincts, the insatiable desire to feast on your flesh while your heart ached from the profound loss of the person you loved.

But then, in an astonishing display of willpower, Simon gained a glimmer of control, his face contorted with struggle, and he turned away from you, letting go of your hands.

The brief respite allowed you to gulp for air, your body trembling with a mixture of fear and relief, and your knees threatening to give in to your weight and collapse any minute.

Your eyes widened as you watched in disbelief as Simon's hands moved to his own jaw, squeezing it on both sides.

And suddenly, in a nightmarish act of self preservation, he broke his jaw, and a sickening crunch echoed throughout the room, he did it, did it so as not to bite you and not succumb to the insatiable hunger that haunted the undead.

You jumped up, your heart pounding, your mind reeling from the horror of the scene.

Trembling, you carefully held his face in your trembling hands, whispering his name through your tears as his growls became quieter, as if he was trying to comfort you, to convey to you that no matter what happened, he would never allow himself to hurt you.

Simon's voice was heard, hoarse and barely audible as he pressed himself against your trembling palm — «M'sorry, love» he managed to say hoarsely, filling his sluggish speech with remorse and a deep feeling of love.

He closed his eyes, a milky veil still covering his once bright gaze, and you realized that even in the depths of this nightmare, there remained a fragment of the man you loved, fighting against the darkness that threatened to consume him.

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