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mrpenguinpants · 3 years

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Genshin: Roommate HCs [V1]

To be honest, I just wanted to ramble some more and let my brainworms take over. This is sorta late but Happy Valentine’s everyone! I was gonna post this earlier but this honestly took me a long time to write so I moved it to today.

Once again, this is 90% crack 10% content. Seriously, as much as I love writing this non-serious fics. Why do you people like this?

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Based off my ramblings with Keqing anon: Link

Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @kaechu @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife @dokidokisama @rokipersonal@minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki @hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @nonniechan @htnicayh @genshins1mpact

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Diluc

What? Diluc has a roommate? Did you blackmail him in living with you? Is that even possible? Did you throw yourself in front of his car because you needed someone to pay for your student loans and the easiest way was to file a lawsuit? In this economy no one would blame you. Diluc seems like such the self-isolated character that would murder his roommate in cold blood but in reality, he act’s detached from the world because he forgot how to socialize and he’s desperately trying to cover it up without choking. That or he’s trying to learn how to astral project. If he could drink away the pain he would but instead he buys 20 packs of grape Kool-Aid and injects it into his veins.

Does not and will not ever have a normal sleeping schedule. You’ll wake up to him working, come back home to him working, and will sleep to him still working. His daily dose of Vitamin D is from the brightness of his screen rather than the sun and he’s filter feeding at this point. It’s concerning. He’s going to crumble and he’s bringing the world down with him. Through the power of tax evasion. But as soon as he needs to walk out into society, he pulls movie magic and looks like perfection. It’s both physically and mentally disgusting.

He’s actually is a really nice roommate to have just so long as you give him space. Great cook and knows to clean up after himself. Though he does have crash and burn days where’s he’s completely out of commission. You could set the entire apartment on fire and he would sleep through it. The entire two weeks are dedicated to zombie eye marathons and then he’ll suddenly collapse and sleep for 46 hours straight. When he wakes up from his hibernation he’s the most groggy and nonsensical person. His life blood is coffee because you keep hiding the 5 hour energy away from him because, you know, life is enjoyable and those cancer bottles will actually kill him.

“University sucks our money out of our bodies faster than our will to live.”

Beidou [Happy Birthday Queen 💕]

Despite her appearance, she’s actually really strong and it scares the piss out of you when you’re doing something or scrolling through your phone mindlessly and you suddenly get your spine re-arranged when she slaps you on the back to ask what you’re doing. Likewise, when she hoists you up and throws you over her shoulder so you come with her on her 3am convivence store raids for alcohol. It’s either you change now or else we’re walking out of the apartment in your t-shirt and no pants self. She can and will carry you under her arm that way. It’s both incredibly attractive and horrifying at the same time.

She’s really friendly and a great talker if you’re alright with her “I must hold you in my arms, fresh prince of bel air style”. It doesn’t matter if you’re taller than her, she’s doing it. She does however, get in a bit of trouble from her rowdiness and you often get noise complaints but Beidou just passes them off to Ningguang and everything is fixed. She has ovaries of steel when neighbors rather confront her personally and she’s ready to 1v1 in the parking lot. You’re trying to desperately hold onto her shirt to stop her from pile driving your neighbors for the third time this week but she’s too strong.

She’s constant party until we die attitude and suffers the hangover in the morning. It’s actually really funny to catch her in her hangover moods because whatever filter Beidou had, which is none, is gone. She really takes “cursing like a sailor” or the next level and the amount of creativity she comes up with is actually impressive. She can be a bit messy but she’s really likeable and always down to go anywhere with you as long as you’ll do the same. It’s a very ride together, we die together situation. You’re my best friend, you’re dying with me. I’ll see you in hell.

“Imma T pose over my dad and then crash the car into the parking garage.”

Kaeya

Kaeya on the surface seems like such a chill roommate. And he is for the most part. But he’s such an ass. Your things are his things, no questions asked. If you just bought a really nice sweater or you had leftover food, that’s his now. He’s innocent until proven guilty even if he’s literally holding your lunch. The pure amount of bullshit he can spit out to convince you that no, he did not pull the fire alarm because he wanted an excuse for not going to work, puts him on Shakespeare level. He’s also very pretty, way too pretty, sir can you share some of your genes?

But aside from that, he’s actually super dependable. You forgot something at home? Sure, he has nothing better to do so he can bring them for you. We’re missing eggs? No problem, he’s just by the store. You’re 95% sure that he just wants to be cheeky and make you thank him for 20 minutes before he actually hands you what you asked for. It’s better for you if you never tell him anything you’re afraid of because Kaeya has no social cues, or more like he throws them out the window, and he’s probably a psychopath.

He’s incredibly private of his room and things despite his attitude towards yours. You’re convinced he either has a secret lab or that’s where he’s storing the bodies. I was the good guy but due to unfortunate circumstances, I need to stab a bitch. But he’s a really good serious talker for those 3am, because everything happens at 3am, talks about life and the meaning of the universe. It absolutely wrecks your sleep schedule but some of the things you talk about are the most crackhead things like what’s the lowest amount of money someone would have to pay you to walk outside without clothes? It’s a legitimate question.

“Never before have I been so offended with something I 100% agree with.”

Jean

Okay, what world did you save in a past life to live with his absolutely wonderful woman? Mother Teresa take a load off, take a seat. You have nothing to worry about. She’ll bring home little treats back home and it’s the most wholesome thing ever?? Is this what love and affection feels like? We’ve been starved for so long. She says it’s not a big deal and anyone would do it BUT THE MOMENT SOMEONE BUYS FOOD FOR YOU. IT’S A MAGICAL MOMENT. They are forever stuck in your will until proven otherwise. An absolute ray of sunshine that must be protected.

She does get super busy so you don’t often see each other or get to hang out as much. She’s a bit of a workaholic but a lot more easier to talk her into taking a break. She’s also a pretty decent cook but she prefers baking and jesus christ, girl can you calm down? Be still my beating heart, I’ve been smitten. Has mother hen vibes that you’re not sure if she’s your roommate or if she adopted you into her family. It’s time to start a petition for the Jean protection squad. Given the opportunity, I would aggressively hold your hand.

She’s always open to whatever you want to do. Any recommendations or things that you like she will try out at least once despite her busy schedule. She’s lowkey lonely because work consumes her so any time you want to hang out or do something together, she jumps on it like she’s feral. She get’s a bit shy to ask if she can join in on your plans because she doesn’t want to bother you or intrude no matter how many times you tell her that’s okay, she still get’s a bit iffy about it. Please save this girl before she trips. In your arms. Platonically. Just kidding haha. Unless?

“I can’t wait to see you happy and not hating everyone again haha.”

Childe

First impressions of Childe were great, until he opened his mouth and you realized how much of a two brain cell child(e) he was. He has two braincells because they constantly have to 1v1 in his brain. He’s lived with a lot of siblings so he has no social awareness or concept of privacy that you’re lucky if you come home and he’s half-dressed. It doesn’t matter if you’re 2 weeks older than him, he’s going to call you 82 years old and why your bones aren’t being fossilized at this point. He’s such a little shit, this fucker licks the yogurt lid peel.

He get’s really restless when he’s stuck under house arrest, because apparently 1v1ing in the parking lot of a Wendy’s is illegal for some reason, so he makes dying whale noises until he get’s to go outside again. But he’s actually a really wholesome guy, probably because of his younger siblings, that he’ll sometimes get you something because you seemed down and it’s such whiplash? Who is this man and where did he come from? You’re starting to have a change of heart before he tells you that he got banned from the library for accidently punching the school’s computer. How you “accidently” punch something you have no idea but Childe always comes home with some sort of injury. Maybe he’s just incredibly clumsy. For your sanity, you’re going to go with that.

He’s actually so uncultured that it’s crippling. You can’t blame him too much considering his upbringing and it’s great that he’s so interested in learning new things but...child no...It makes you want to take your spine out of your ass and rip it like a Beyblade. Watching him take chopsticks and stab his food like it’s marshmallows makes you want to fall into a blackhole and let the chair consume you.

“I, too, fantasize about beating the living shit out of people.”

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Is this another tag yourself game cause I resonate with Diluc. I’m crying in insomnia. As much as I enjoy writing these fics I absolutely hate tagging them. I remember I used to have a tag anon but that was back when I wrote for bnha.

Valentine’s Day was fun tho. I had a drinking game with friends as we played league then ended it off with a movie night.

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winter-soldier-vibes · 3 years

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We Need You

Bucky x reader

Word count: 1901

Summary: Bucky comforts a reader with imposter syndrome (inability to believe that one’s success is deserved)

Warnings: imposter syndrome, low self worth/self esteem, feeling worthless, slight angst, mostly comfort

A/N: I have issues that present similarly to imposter syndrome, but I don’t experience it fully or severely. You belong and wherever you are, you fucking earned that. You worked hard to get where you are. I hope this fic can bring you some comfort, I apologize if I did not serve the topic justice. Sorry it took so long! As always, if anyone needs anything from me or just wants to talk and vent, I am ALWAYS here! <3

Tags: @buckys2thicc @buckfics @thatfangirl42 @mardema @barnesplums @bucks-bunny @stucky-on-spiderman @peggycarter-steverogers @freigeistundanderes

Add yourself to my taglist! Masterlist

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You were calm, cool and collected. Smart, dedicated, and hard-working. You were an Avenger, one of the more valuable assets to the team with your training in hand to hand combat and knowledge of weaponry.

At least, that’s how everyone saw you. Everyone except you.

Every “job well done” translated to “I could’ve done better” for you. Compliments in a way felt like pity to you. Like it was all a lie or something. You could’ve been better, you didn’t think you were anything special.

Anytime someone gave you praise you would wave it off with a small smile. Everyone saw it as you being modest, but internally you just couldn’t accept it. You couldn’t accept praise knowing you could’ve done better.

Settle for nothing less than perfection. But nobody’s perfect.

You were endlessly grateful for your team, your family, but you couldn’t help but feel like you didn’t deserve it. You had so much good in your life, but you felt like you had to keep proving yourself.

You had everything you could ever want, but you still felt like you had to earn it.

You thought you had done a good job at keeping it hidden. Imposter syndrome you had heard someone call it at one point. You had looked into it, realizing more and more of it resonated with you. You didn’t feel that you deserved your spot on the team, even though most of the team could agree that you were one of their best fighters.

You were also one of the kindest people on the team, and everyone enjoyed being in your company. Again, you wrote it off as them feeling obligated to talk to you rather than them choosing to talk to you.

Everything you thought about yourself, the degrading names you called yourself, and the way you waved off all of your achievements didn’t match up at all with the way anyone thought about you.

It went unnoticed to most. You would put up a front, small smiles and thank you’s occasionally. There would be small side comments that you would make occasionally, but it was nothing that would cause red flags to arise.

It’s nothing, really.

I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done.

It’s no big deal.

No worries

That’s why I’m here I guess

Compliments were deflected. Whenever you received criticism you would internalize it even though you knew it was nothing against you. Friendly advice to improve job performance. But for you, it reinforces the thought that your performance needed to be improved.

No matter what you did, you would never be good enough. You used to chase achievements, telling yourself that if you did well enough, if you did good things, that you would feel a sense of self worth. That maybe if you achieved things you would be filled with a sense of pride.

Instead you were left feeling as though you didn’t deserve any of the recognition you received. In a way, it made you feel even more insecure.

You thought that if you accepted the praise you would seem self indulgent or boastful that if you said what your achievements were you would seem prideful. So you accepted them with a small smile and thank you. At least until people moved onto the next topic and you drop the smile when it seemed safe. When no one was watching.

When you thought no one was watching.

Which is how Bucky had come to notice the discomfort you had.

When he had first joined the team, he was very quiet. He did a lot of listening and observing, not wanting to speak much himself. That was understandable to anyone. So when you had been introduced to him and your skillset had been mentioned and you waved it off saying no big deal, he had noticed how you shifted as if you were uncomfortable and your smile dropped as soon as the attention was on someone else.

He didn’t think much of it. If anything it had to do with being uncomfortable around him.

But as time passed he started relaxing around everyone too, especially you. He was still accepting what he had done and who he was now. He was still reserved but he wasn’t silent. The two of you had become good friends, being two of the quieter personalities on the team.

Now you had someone to keep you company when you stayed at the outskirts of Tony’s parties.

But as more time went on, he noticed small things that you did. Behaviors you had, things you said. Clutch phrases. The way you would seem embarrassed when people complimented you. The way you would say that there were no worries even if you were the only reason that a mission was successful.

Sometimes when you thought you were alone or no one would hear, he would catch you mumbling things to yourself. Things like yeah right to compliments before giving a genuine response. The slight shakes of the head in protest. The nervous habits you had when you got a compliment. The little things that others were too distracted to notice, too small to

Bucky was an observant man.

Which is how one night, you hadn’t realized him come into your room to talk to you about something that Bucky completely forgot about once he saw you. You were sitting down at your desk, head in your hands and rubbing your eyes.

Jesus why am I so stupid

What the fuck is wrong with me

They don’t mean what they say

How could they like you?

I’m worthless

Just like everyone else

I don’t belong here

You were so trapped by the marathon of degrading thoughts that you hadn’t heard Bucky come in. He stood beside you, concern etched on his face.

“Y/n?” you jumped slightly and took your hands away from your face, blinking in surprise. You had been crying. Why was he here?

“Y/n what’s wrong?” he asked, coming over to you.

You shook your head and shrugged, wiping a few loose tears from your face. “‘M fine Buck,” you whispered, struggling to keep your emotions out of your voice.

“Y/n,” Bucky said, crouching down in front of you. “You wouldn’t be crying if something wasn’t wrong. It’s okay to be upset, there’s nothing wrong with that. Just tell me why you’re upset.”

You shook your head again. “Really Buck, I’m fine.”

“Y/n, I may not be able to read minds like Wanda, but I know something’s bothering you.it’s okay.”

You sighed, taking a breath before looking at him. “Do you guys really mean it?” you suddenly asked meekly.

Bucky drew his eyebrows together in confusion. “Mean...what?”

“After missions, when you say I did the right thing, that I did a good job, that you guys need me - do you mean it?”

Bucky looked more puzzled now. “Yeah, of course we do. Why else would we say things like that?”

“If you thought you were supposed to.” you said suddenly. “Or if, you know, you wanted to be polite, or you thought I wanted to hear it, or you didn’t really mean it I don’t really know I -”

“Y/n, hold on, slow it down...What?” Bucky said. “Why on Earth would you think that?”

You crossed your arms and shrugged. “I dunno, I just don’t really feel like I’m all that valuable to you guys here. I don’t do anything you guys couldn’t do without me. I make so many mistakes all the time and no matter how hard I try I just don’t feel like I belong here.”

Bucky took a minute to look at you. He had known you doubted yourself but this was beyond what he had thought. To think that you, y/n, weren’t valuable to this team was a crazy idea to him

To you it was the truth.

“Y/n, no, we need you. Why on Earth would you think you don’t belong?”

“Because I haven’t earned it. I’m on the team, I fight with you guys, but I still don’t feel like I should be. The mistakes I make all the time, the wrong calls, the selfish calls, bad judgements...I could go on. I just...no matter how much good I do it doesn’t make the mistakes go away.”

“Y/n, you are one of the best people we have, we -”

“No I’m not,” you said firmly, surprising Bucky. You shook your head. “You guys don’t need me. I don’t deserve to be on this team.”

“And I do?” Bucky asked.

You looked back at him. “What do you mean? Of course you do. Your the best fighter we have, Steve's best friend, we need you.”

“But I’ve made so many mistakes. You know all of the horrible things that I’ve done y/n. I was made into a weapon.” he said.”

“Bucky you know that wasn’t your fault. You didn’t choose that and you would've done anything to stop it. That’s different. You’re a great fighter and a good person, Bucky.”

“So are you.” he stated simply. “Do you believe that?”

You took a deep breath. “I believe you believe that. But that doesn’t mean it’s true.”

Bucky put his hands on your shoulders. “You are a fighter. A hero. You’ve saved so many people doing things that some of us couldn’t or wouldn’t do. People out there remember how you saved them. How you protected them and gave yourself to them. That was you, no one else. You are a part of this team, you help make it what it is. We would be lost without you. You put your blood, sweat, and tears into this team. You give your heart and soul to this team. You’ve earned every goddamn bit of praise you get and more. You fought your place onto this team and you deserve to be here just as much as everyone else here. So when your head tells you that you don’t belong or that we don’t need you, tell it to fuck off. Because you’re one of the best people we have.”

By now you had tears in your eyes again, but not ones of shame. Ones of appreciation and relief. You had wanted to hear those words directly for so long and to be affirmed in that way was something you needed. “Thank you Bucky,” you said softly, giving him one of your first genuine smiles at a compliment.

He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. “Anytime. Anytime you want a reminder, you let me know. I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it before you can start to believe it for yourself.”

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damselofblueroses · 3 years

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Bambi, Prologue

You are my Bambi, girl, I am your candy, tell me what are you waiting for?

Summary: As an archaeologist who works on the Ancient Greece, you were on the verge of excavations' session. While you have been preparing your team, you learned that your institute decided on your team has to work with another team as they wanted the outcome as a collaboration. The head of other team was your biggest rival, a scumbag in your eyes: Byun Baekhyun.

You two were supposed to work together for three months, in a Greek Island, Chios.

Could you manage to not kill Byun Baekhyun for three months?

Content: AU, heavily Greek mythology, enemies to friends.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story will be four or five chapters if I will not change my mind in the meantime. It is inspired by my major; however, I do not have a complete knowledge on archaeology, I am a historian. If I will make a technical mistake, please let me know. I am willing to receive any kind of feedback; you are more than welcomed to drop a message.

Prologue

The Mid of April, Sejong Institute, the Department of Archaeology

“Could you give me Bulfinch?” you asked to your teammate. “I have to check the layers of the Underworld.”

“Here you go.” Junmyeon gave the thick book to you. While you were searching for the details in your mind, Junmyeon was dealing with the plan of construction.

You have been knowing each other since the last 10 years, working together was nothing but natural as breathing for both of you. Junmyeon was older than you and supposed to be superior to you, however he decided to pursue a career not in the field, but in the library, you became the leader of the archaeological team of Sejong Institute.

“Indy,” Junmyeon called you by your nickname. You automatically lifted your head, your nickname became your Pavlovian weakness, sometimes you forgot your real name. “Be a good girl and pass me the cookie jar.”

You wholeheartedly laughed at his face expression and threw him his favourite chocolate cookie.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” you asked, stretching your body. “My battery is literally going down; let’s grab an americano.”

“Only if you buy me a carrot cake.”

Junmyeon had a sweet tooth, as he opened the package and swallowed the cookie just without even chewing.

“Okey, big boy.” you smacked his shoulder, standing up. “You are goddamn lucky for having that fast metabolism, you know.”

“My darling girl, I work out in a fucking routine.” he grinned like a 5-year-old boy. You really loved to see his cockiness. “My body ratio is not a heavenly gift; I gain every muscle with tears and blood.”

“What kind of god can reward you, shitty dandy?” you chuckled. “You are a walking blasphemy.”

“Still better than you.” Junmyeon pulled your hair by laughing.

“You are definitely right.” you lolled your tongue out of your mouth. “Come on, move your bloody but peachy butt!”

Actually, you were shy, quiet but quick to make sharp remarks. However, Junmyeon was more than a teammate; he was the closest one to a brother for you, you have been always so relaxed when you were with him. The outcome of your friendship was the freedom of speech, you could be vocal as much as you wanted. Junmyeon was never offended by anything you would say, the same applied also to you. You were his dear sister, your families became friends because of you.

You could not imagine your life without Junmyeon.

“What do you think about the digging session?” you asked to him when you were waiting in the line. Junmyeon was trying to select his dessert, carrot cake was already forgotten.

“Well, you will be the team leader, that is sure thing.” he huffed. “Most probably they will ask you who do you want in your team, and you will not name me if you want to live.”

“You are the last one who I am going to choose when it comes to work in the trenches.” you smirked. “Who wants a cry baby in the field?”

“Oh.” Junmyeon turned you, shooting a dirty look, which only led you to bite your upper lip in order to prevent bursting into laughs. “You need a brain; those muscular tough babies cannot figure even how to use tools out.

“But they do not run away when they see a bug.” you could not help but start to laugh. “Do you r-

“Shut the fuck up.” Junmyeon covered your mouth with his hand. “You are banned to talk about that incident from now on. Ever.”

“But,” you took his hands off you, tears forming in the edges of your eyes due to the memory you remembered. Junmyeon gave you a deadly stare, but you could not help. “You were running over the hill because you came across to a spider in your trench. Didn’t you give up on becoming Indiana in our first digging session?”

“No, I preferred to protect my own dignity.” he shook his head, then he also burst into laughs. “Jesus, I hate spiders and one Indy is enough for the family.”

“At least you learned that X never marks the spot before quitting.” you murmured, then pointed what you want to him. “Blueberry muffin, Jun. It looks yummy.”

“At least you learned that rolling in the dirt is not for the people who has a class.” Junmyeon ordered two americanos, one blueberry muffin and one red velvet cake. “Jokes aside, there are some gossips. Did you hear any of them?”

“Damnit, yes.” you exhaled and pinched the bridge of your nose. “The Executive Board is thinking to build a collaboration between us and Sunkyungwan people.”

“Yeah.” Junmyeon sat down on a chair, helped you to settle yourself. “And if they do, you know who is going to be the other team leader, right?”

“Do not tell me.” you covered your ears with your hands. You knew, you already heard the possible name, however even the possibility was giving you nothing but headache. “That’s why I asked your opinion. If that bastard will be my fucking colleague for Chios, I think I will pass this session”

“Hell, over my dead body.” Junmyeon aggressively grasped his little fork. “I know how much you guys despise each other, but this is your fucking career. Do not even dare to think you can turn your back to an opportunity.”

“But, Ju-

“No.” he was firm as fuck. “If they will give you the excavation of Chios, you will be fucking happy and you will accept their fucking propose. Chios will be the icing of the cake for you, you always want to lead an excavation in the Aegean.”

“You are right.” you knew when the occasion called to not push Junmyeon’s limits. Career came first, the rest is not important was his mentality. “You are right, but I really do not draw myself working with him.”

“Ignore him. You do not have to see him every day, ditch him in the field, goddamn.” Jun chewed a mouthful bite of his cake. “I do not want you to be facing with the Board, standing for no ground. If they will manage to build the connection, Sunkyungwan will appoint Byun Baekhyun as the leader for sure.”

You did not answer his god-fucking-damn-it prediction, but even thinking about it made you want to puke.

You vividly remember Byun Baekhyun, a fucking tease, and a smartass, from your bachelor years. You were not the type of people who could easily hate someone, but you hated Byun Baekhyun since the first day you met. He was a cockhead and dandy, he was a real scumbag, always so full of himself, underestimating everyone and their abilities, thinking he was the star of the universe. To your dismay, both of you were accepted from same university for your master and you had to endure his presence till he accepted the offer of Sunkyungwan.

You never tell this to Junmyeon, hell, he would not spend even a second to kill you if he would learn this, but you turned the offer of Sunkyungwan just because of Byun Baekhyun’s acceptance.

You hated him to the bits.

And you really did not know what the heck you were going to do if Sejong’s Executive Board was going to approve the collaboration. You looked at Junmyeon, he certainly was not going to let you to turn the offer down, and this time you could not hide the fact from him.

You grunted inside of your brain.

The Beginning of May, Sunkyungwan, the Department of Archaeology

Byun Baekhyun was happy.

More than happy till now.

He just stormed into his room, trying to register the news.

You? Were you really going to be his fucking colleague for fucking three months?!

He remembered you very well, and he was %100 sure of there was no person in this universe, he despised more than you. He even could not endure to share same atmosphere with you. He always wanted to fuck your attitudes out of you since he met you.

And was he really going to see your fucking face for three months, in an island?!

It had to be a bloody joke. A bloody plot on Baekhyun.

“I said,” he screamed when he heard his door was opened. “I do not want to see anyone!”

“Even an old friend?” a kind voice asked, Baekhyun immediately turned to the door.

Junmyeon was there, smiling to him. Baekhyun was startled, he was definitely caught off guard.

“Hyung?” he murmured. “Junmyeon Hyung?”

“Yeah.” Junmyeon’s smile widened. “May I come or not?”

“JUNMYEON HYUNG!” Baekhyun forgot you for a second and threw himself onto Junmyeon. He loved Junmyeon very much, enough to forgive his close relationship with you. “Welcome!”

Junmyeon smiled and hugged to Baekhyun but averted his eyes from him.

There was a plan in Junmyeon’s mind since years, and he had the chance of making it true after the news of collaboration. He averted his eyes also from you because he did not want anyone to understand his real intentions about you and Baekhyun.

Junmyeon smiled to Baekhyun.

#baekhyun fluff #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun smut #byun baekhyun #baekhyun #exo baekhyun #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun angst #exo series #exo fanfiction #exo x reader #exo fanfic #exo smut #exo #exo fic #exo imagines

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Part 3 of the disowning fic where Sirius calls Reg and Remus tells James (with Sirius’ permission ofc) and when Walburga calls Reg, he rips into her like never before. James rushing to Sirius’ house and basically having to be restrained from going to her house with Reg in tow.

Hopefully that makes sense. Sorry it’s probably really badly phrased

This makes a ton of sense--thank you for sending it in! Writing Regulus is such a neat challenge, since he and Sirius are so similar and yet so different. Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Part 1 II Part 2

TW for disownment and past child abuse (mentioned)

If Sirius ever met the person that invented showers, he would kiss them on the mouth. With tongue, if requested.

His phone hummed on the coffee table; when he made no move to grab it, Remus reached over and flipped the screen up. “Reg is on the way.”

Sirius hummed and cuddled into his chest, tightening his hold on his waist. Gentle fingers combed through his damp hair and he was warm all over in the best way. His face and eyes still itched a little, and his throat was raw from crying so hard, but at least he finally felt clean. The ache in his gut had dulled.

Remus pressed his lips to the space just above Sirius’ ear and wrapped his arms around him, tracing patterns on his upper back beneath his shirt. The skin-to-skin contact was something he never knew he needed so much—he couldn’t imagine living without it now. “We should go on vacation sometime this summer,” he mused, absently braiding a few locks of Sirius’ hair.

“Where?”

“I dunno. Somewhere warm, where we can swim and you can get all sexy and tan.”

Sirius laughed against his chest and breathed in the honey-lavender smell of his soap. “As long as you promise to freckle.”

He could feel Remus smiling. “I’ll do my best. It wouldn’t have to be a long trip, either—maybe a week in Florida, or California.”

“Alabama?” Sirius teased.

“Honey.” Remus kissed his forehead. “If you take me to Alabama—” Another kiss. “—I will take the biggest spider I can find—” A third kiss, so sweet in comparison to his playful threat. “—and put it in your shoe.”

Sirius snorted. “Just divorce me, that would be nicer.”

“Mmm, no, you’d miss me too much.”

“Put a spider in my shoe and we’ll see if that’s true.” Remus’ shoulders shook under him as they laughed and Sirius kissed his collarbone, then closed his eyes. “Do we have time for a nap before Reg gets here?”

“Maybe. How fast does he drive?”

“Not as fast as Pots—”

The doorbell rang, and then kept ringing; someone knocked insistently on the door, and Sirius groaned as he untangled his limbs from Remus and wandered over.

Regulus was not alone on the porch.

“What’s her phone number?” James demanded, practically smoking with fury as he and Regulus stormed into the house. He let out a furious breath when he saw the open envelope on the kitchen counter.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at his little brother. “Did you call him?”

“Of course I called him,” Regulus scoffed. “We also called Logan.”

“Isn’t he in Canada for the rest of the week?”

“Yeah, but he said he’d be here on Friday.” Regulus gave him a quick once-over and a stormy look came over his face. “When did she drop those off?”

“She didn’t. The mailman did, just after five.” Something bitter tinged Sirius’ mouth. “That was after she tried to make Remus give them to me.”

“What a bitch.”

“Reg!”

“It’s true,” Regulus snapped, though his anger was clearly directed elsewhere. “She’s a horrible coward and you deserve better.”

James held his phone up to get Sirius’ attention. “What’s her number?”

“I’m not giving you her phone number, J.”

“Reg, what’s her number?”

Regulus bit his lip for a second, then shook his head. “She won’t know who you are, and she would sue your ass faster than you could blink if you lost your temper on her. Me, on the other hand…”

Sirius put his hand over Regulus’ phone. “Don’t do this. If she disowns you, too—”

“If she disowns me I’ll throw a fucking party!” Regulus all but shouted. The room went silent. “I am sick and tired of hiding and watching them hurt you. She doesn’t control me anymore.”

“I’m not letting you get hurt for me.”

“And I’m not asking for you permission.” Regulus stepped back and dialed a number; in the kitchen doorway, Remus and James watched them in a mix of shock and concern.

The call connected and Regulus’ whole face went stony. “What is it, Regulus?” a tinny voice asked.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Walburga sniffed. “Please, Regulus, we’ve discussed this. You have to clarify your intentions—”

“Did you disown my brother?”

“He’s not your brother anymore.” Disdain dripped from her voice and Sirius’ throat constricted as cold fire lit in Regulus’ eyes.

“He’s more family to me than you ever were.” His tone was even and deadly.

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

“Shut up.” A protective urge jolted in Sirius’ gut and he almost smacked the phone out of Regulus’ hand. “Just shut up.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re a coward and a liar, and I hate you.” A fine tremor slipped through and Regulus gritted his teeth. Remus touched Sirius’ elbow gently, and he gripped his hand tight.

“Listen here, you silly boy—”

“You don’t get to hurt him anymore. Sirius is a better person that you could ever dream of being and the fact that you can’t accept when your own son is happy—”

“He disgraced us—”

“You disgraced us!” Regulus snapped. “You and your rules, your blood money, your parenting that belonged more in a prison than a house! I’m not stupid, Mother, I know what you did was wrong!”

There were a few beats of silence. “I did what I did to prepare you for the real world.”

“The real world doesn’t give a ten-year-old a black eye for breaking a plate.”

Sirius closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as Remus inhaled sharply next to him; James cursed under his breath. The plate had been one of his grandmother’s, part of a twelve-piece set that they were using for Thanksgiving. One flipped corner on the rug had sent him flying, but the porcelain shard in his hand had hurt less than Walburga’s fury.

She was breathing hard on the other end of the line. “The world is a cruel place, Regulus.”

“No crueler than you.”

“Watch your mouth, you ungrateful child, or you’ll find yourself in the same shoes as that stain on our family tree.”

A flinty look came over Regulus then; if Sirius didn’t know better, he’d say he looked almost smug. “Do it. I dare you to look the media in the eye and tell them you disowned one son for being happy and the other for calling you out on your terrible parenting.”

“We disowned him for being a failure and a disgrace.”

Grey met grey as Regulus spoke next, his gaze never flickering from Sirius’ eyes. “Happily married to the love of his life, youngest captain in the league, with two Stanley Cups under his belt? Doesn’t sound like a failure to me, and far from a disgrace.”

Remus squeezed his hand as Sirius swallowed back a few tears that had started to gather. He offered a weak smile and the corners of Regulus’ eyes crinkled slightly.

“I’m hanging up the phone now,” he said, smooth and collected. Walburga was utterly silent. “Never contact me or my brother again. If you disown me, at least have the dignity to do it in person.”

He hung up and slid his phone into his back pocket. “Jesus,” James half-laughed behind them. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“That was really brave, and really stupid.” Sirius said as he walked forward. Regulus met him in the middle, tucking his head under Sirius’ chin in a tight hug. “Thank you.”

“Brave and stupid, huh? I’m turning into you already.”

Sirius flicked his ear with a grin, but never loosened his hold. “Brat.”

“Love you.”

He closed his eyes and felt Regulus’ heartbeat through his palm. “Love you, too.”

“Will you at least give me her address so I can egg her house?” James asked once they separated, already moving to give Sirius another hug. He melted into it; James had the incredible ability to make him feel completely and utterly safe, like the world couldn’t touch him as long as he was there.

“As amazing as that would be, I’d rather not see you arrested.”

“Fair point.” He pulled back a bit and James searched his face. A wrinkle appeared between his brows. “How can I help?”

“This is nice.” Exhaustion made Sirius’ limbs heavy and his head was starting to throb from his earlier breakdown. James pulled him back in and two more sets of arms followed, forming a shield all around him. He felt Remus kiss his cheek and Regulus’ hand splay over his ribs; James was steady, an anchor in the storm. “How am I going to tell people about this?”

“You don’t have to,” Remus murmured.

“If I don’t, she will.”

“Then tell them the truth,” Regulus said. “Maybe not everything, but the relevant parts.”

“We’ll be here with you.” James’ voice was soft. “Us, and the rest of the team. Anything you need.”

Sirius didn’t say anything, but he did sink into the warmth of their embrace and let the weight of fear and unease lift off his shoulders. The burden wasn’t his alone; it never had been.

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sorry-i-ship-drarry · 3 years

Note

Hi, i really like your drabbles!

Will you please write something where Harry and Draco are flatmates and friends and one day they were hanging out watching a movie and laughing and having fun and out of the blue Harry says Can i kiss you and then they kiss and Harry gets emotional because he is overwhelmed and draco falls for him more. ❤

Thank you 😊

40. Just keep swimming

I will be combining this request with next of my prompt - Patting others back. Hope you like this and thank you so much | after a bad day at work, as a friend, Harry tries to cheer Draco up by a movie night | fluff | domestic |

Fan art taken down because of confidentiality.

Credits - @upthehillart

" Draco is that you ?" Harry called out as he turned off the stove, walking out to see who walked into the flat.

" yeah " he sighs.

" ooh, that sounds terrible. Bad day at work huh ?" Harry asked as he took off the apron and threw it in the kitchen

" the most terrible day ever. It was all a mess, this new potioneer just fucked up each and every single of the potion claiming he was disturbed because of some family problem and I couldn't even yell at him because of that, then midway the potion making for st. Mungo's, my assistant fainted, basically spilling all of the potion we had been brewing for a week and above all my boss yelled at me for something I didn't even do and i- just can't . I'm done with the day " Draco looked he could almost cry.

" oh dear. That's bad " Harry sympathetically said as he walked upto Draco and gave him a friendly hug.

" i know the perfect remedy to fix your day " Harry suggested

" please, anything " Draco sighed taking off his coat and hanging it next to the door.

" go take a shower then, you stink of something really awful, like rotten pumpkin juice-"

" must be one of the potions " Draco rolled his eyes

" okay nevermind. Go. Take a shower. Food is done and I'll take care of the rest, yeah ?" Harry asked as he walked behind Draco and pushed him forward to walk to the bathroom.

" you're a great friend Harry " Draco sighed.

" I know I am. Now go " Harry patted Draco's back almost reaching the bathroom.

" whenever you're done " and with that Harry walked back into the kitchen, sighing to himself. This was again a lost chance.

" great friend " Harry scoffed to himself, disappointed. Shaking his head, he set his priorities to fixing his flatmate / best friend's mood right.

Done everything perfectly right, Harry chose the movie to watch, set the lightings to low, pizza on table, red wine for the mood and fluffy Blankets and of course pillows.

And woof.

" how could I forget you, snuffles " Harry scratched the dogs neck playfully " you're the perfect mood twister, now aren't you, aren't you "

" he definitely is " Draco walked in still looking tired..

" Jesus, even Voldemort would look better than you right now, not to mention without a nose "

" ha ha ha, very funny potter " Draco rolled his eyes and plopped onto the couch. Snuffles joining him on the sofa.

" I can't believe this dog. I gave him a name, I was the one who bought him, I take him to the vets, for walks, and even buy his favourite food and yet he loves you more than me " Harry whined as he plopped next to Draco watching him kiss the top of dogs head.

" well harry I am sort of irresistible" Draco smirked

" sod off malfoy " Harry rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the amusing joke.

" so what are we watching ?" He finally asked as snuffles got more comfortable into his lap.

" finding Nemo" Harry replied

" perfect " Draco relaxed further into the couch and harry turned on the movie.

" you don't wanna talk about it though ?" Harry asked

" This is much better. I'd rather not boil my blood by reciting again how shit my day was. Thanks for this by the way, you always know what to do " Draco gave Harry a smile , crossing his legs over the sofa, sitting more comfortably.

Passing the pizza, the wine, not to forget the spaghetti Harry made, Draco was full and was more comfortably invested into the movie, while harry was more invested in peaking glances at Draco watching the movie.

" can I lay on your lap ?" Draco suddenly asked.

With his heart beating a little louder and suddenly very much awareness of tongue in his mouth and the socks in his feets, he whispered a " yes "

And Draco got comfortable in Harry's lap, snuffles falling asleep through the movie over Draco's torso.

" i love this turtles dude part, They're much more cooler than anyone we know and the way they just say dude, gosh, coolest thing ever "

" aren't they ?" Harry chuckled as he lightly untangled Draco's soft hair with his calloused fingers

"okay tell me, if I had to one character from this movie who would I be ?" Draco asked suddenly looking up at from his lap.

" hm, that's a tricky one " Harry pouted thinking about the answer for a minute or two " i think you're the Nigel, the pelican "

" hey " Draco swatted Harry on his chest laughing " I don't have a big mouth "

" are you sure ? Have you seen yourself when you eat the brownies your mom sends " Harry laughed softly

Draco gasped " they're really good, okay. You don't underestimate them. You should try them by the way "

" well my dearest darling friend, I'd try if you'd leave me some, big mouth Nigel " Harry laughed but was immediately attacked by a pillow at his face.

" you're mean. I just had a terrible day " despite that fact, he couldn't resist laughing with Harry.

"oh sod off. You're not going to get my pity " Harry scoffed, still grinning at Draco, adjusting his spectacles.

" you're really an asshole " Draco rolled his eyes, glimpsing at the motioning movie.

" and yet you keep me around. You're the one who have Stockholm syndrome " Harry covered his face, and as anticipated he was smacked by a pillow in the face "ouch -"

" what, did I hit you too hard ?" Draco rose a few inches immediately

Harry's expression changed from being fake injured to snickering.

" I can't believe you -"

" always works " Harry laughed

" you- I can't believe you use that trick " Draco rolled off his eyes collapsing back into his lap

" and yet you fall for it everytime " Harry chuckled

" you know what, one of these days you're actually going to be hurt and I won't give a damn about you" Draco fake sneered at him

" oh is that so ?" Harry cooed in a baby voice, softly pinching Draco's cheek

" Harry- don't- "

" aww, you're angry " Harry continued in the baby voice

" don't- I said stop. Stop with the voice, it's annoying " draco desperately tried to swat Harry's hands away from his face, but he couldn't possibly entirely deny that he didn't like it.

" aww, Little pelican is angry " Harry pouted

" hey- I'm not little- you idiot " Draco smacked Harry with a pillow again, repeatedly almost sitting up in that process and getting through Harry defenseless ways of trying to protect himself from it, and breaking into a fit of laughter.

" okay- okay stop " Harry cackled

" say I'm not a pellican -"

" but you're the one who asked "

" well you could've said I'm a Nemo or Marlin. He's cute"

" oh yeah, you probably are, little and desperately trying to prove yourself "

" okay- that - was -rude " Draco smacked him at every word until Harry grabbed hold of the pillow and threw it across the room, immediately tickling Draco.

"Merlins fuck- gah- stop- agh " and he took the fall to the ground gracefully, taking Harry down with him.

Harry looked at Draco only for a brief from top before they both started laughing to death. The movie only served as a mere background noise to their laughs and their bodies almost pressed against each other.

" you had to take me down with you " Harry calmed down only a little staring down at Draco

" I never take the fall alone Harry, you knew that about me when you first became friends with me " Draco grinned. Harry shook his head at the slight truth in the absurdity. He looked down at Draco, laying there defenseless with the sweetest grin over his face, his fringes casually very perfectly sprawled over his forehead, his eyes shining with the dim light and the happiness that had Found a way into him. It was impossible to look at draco underneath him and not feel lovestruck.

" you know what, you're definitely a dory " Draco chuckled

" oh I am now " Harry widened his eyes in fun surprise

" oh yes, completely imbecile "

" not to forget you've forgotten almost everyone of my boyfriend's name everytime we meet. You would call them anything but their na-"

" Can I kiss you ?" The words were out before he could've rolled his tounge to stop.

Draco looked at him in complete shock which didn't help Harry currently at all. His eyebrows shot up through his fringes in extreme shock of the sudden question. The bowl of chips next to his hands crashed onto the ground and suddenly the shark from finding Nemo seemed much smaller..

" you- you want-"

" never mind. It was just a stupid question. It was- a - just pure curiousity. It doesn't matter. We sho- should just finish the movie and lets just pretend I never asked -"

" yes-"

" this- wait what ?"

" I said yes, I'd like that " Draco's lips curled into a little smile.

Shocked but with a good surprise Harry returned the smile and with consent leaned down to kiss draco softly over the lips. They could hear the soft noises from the TV but harry was clearly more focused on Draco's hands going up his back and the softness of lips pressed against his, the tenderness in the kiss and the lopsided smile Draco had held. Draco was no stranger to that as well, he too was focused on Harry's hands going under his shirt, not in a furious way but a soft gesture to find more intimacy and for someone who looked they would kiss roughly, Harry worked his lips like it was a master plan he had always been working on if ever given the opportunity to enunciate. They were lost for seconds, minutes, hours maybe but it felt like forever to share that brisk intimate kiss. Neither of them had even realised they were out of breath until they had started heaving and only the other one noticed and stopped kissing at once.

Harry smiled down at Draco, until the sudden realisation hit him that they were still on the ground.

" wanna get back on the sofa or is floor too comfortable for you my majesty "

" you'll never change, will you ?" Draco shook his head as he took Harry's hand and got back up on the sofa and landing in his lap once again but this time his eyes were Only focused on Harry. Who strangely enough was looking blankly at the TV with-

" Harry, are you crying ?" Draco rose up a little bit

" uh, no. The movie-"

" we just kissed and you care about the movie-"

" no, it's not like that-"

" seems like it-"

" oh calm down you idiot. I just- I got a wee bit emotional" Harry sighed

" why ?"

" because I finally kissed you. Do you even realize how much courage it took to even ask you that. I'm overwhelmed that you Returned-"

" your feelings ? Harry, I cannot express you enough how much I like you. All the past relationships- I understand not a good point here but listen- they never worked because they're not you. I've always liked you Harry, well pretty much always "

" really ?"

" of course. I'd been pining on you for ages. It's good to know you finally feel the same "

" I- I've been pining for long too. I mean I may have never told you but-"

" you stalked me in 6th year all year long and desperately tried to cross paths with me every chance you got in 8th year. Yeah, I bet even snuffles knows about that "

" oh "

Draco smiled softly, cupping harry's face " hey, I like you and you're worth it. You were always worth the wait, even if you still want to wait. My feelings would probably never change for you Harry. It's pretty darn hard to run away from you " Draco shrugged

" well-"

" I like you harry, I do " Draco reassured again knowing Harry was feeling overwhelmed and insecure.

" I like you too Draco " Harry finally gave Draco a smile before leaning down to kiss him again, with a small smile curving at the corner of his lips.

And when they broke off, Harry and Draco once again became invested into the movie, the difference being, they both couldn't wait for more tomorrow's to come and Draco couldn't help but fall deeper for Harry.

But then maybe, Harry was his dory If Draco was a marlin or even if he was Nemo, Harry would make sure to go above and beyond just for him and that was enough to keep Draco swimming in his love for him.

Requests open

Day - 39- cuddle me in | Day 41- quidditch field victories

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dixonsmonroe · 3 years

Text

Near To You

Summary: Daryl and Rick had everything, until they didn’t. But when Daryl meets Jesus, he learns that there are always second chances when it comes to love.

Pairing: Daryl x Rick, Daryl x Jesus

Word count: 4k

Author’s notes: i actually found this in my google docs other day and apparently i wrote this 2 years ago so enjoy!

Warning: mentions of smut (18+), fluff, pining, canon level violence, i will never stop loving desus

Daryl hadn’t taken kindly to Rick right away. He didn’t like him when they were still at the camp and Rick had a gun to Daryl’s head, and told him in his best ‘good-cop’ voice, “We don’t kill the living.” It was like that for a while; anytime Rick started off on his pep talks, Daryl wanted to knock him in the teeth. The longer Merle was gone, though, the pep talks became less annoying and even kind of comforting.

After they left the CDC and ended up at the farm, Daryl still kept his distance, but did whatever Rick needed him to. He actually enjoyed being around him, and working in a group as a team. He felt useful around the farm; it was work he knew how to do. He also noticed the only time he was ever annoyed at Rick anymore was when Shane was around. Shane would make some dumbass remark, Daryl would antagonize him, and Rick would keep them from fighting. Shane would leave and Rick would just look apologetically at Daryl, who would shrug it off and assure everything was fine.

Nothing had ever happened until the prison. They had been there for a while, and after Lori died, Rick had started to come back to them bit by bit. He was currently in a peaceful farming phase, which was plentiful for the group, but still a little out of character.

Rick met Daryl in the guard tower for first watch shifts after everyone went to bed.

“The place is lookin’ good,” Rick looked out over the whole prison, over the crops they had grown and the reinforcements around the walls. “We really made this place home.”

“Took a lotta work, but it was worth it.” Daryl replied, smoking his cigarette, “You got us all here.”

“Couldn’t have done it without my right hand,” he smiled. Daryl stifled a grin and looked away, trying not to let Rick see him blush.

They had been together like this a thousand times, just the two of them, hanging out. They were best friends, they were family. But sometimes Rick would laugh a certain way or he’d get all focused and solemn or he would push his hair out of his face and Daryl would freeze up. Rick was a strong leader, and a good friend. He had Daryl’s full loyalty.

“How’ve you been doing?” he asked.

“Much better. Rick nodded. “I know I lost it a little bit, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I’m figuring things out.”

“You need anything, lemme know.”

Rick stared out the window in silence for a few moments. “There might be something.”

Daryl glanced at Rick, who was now looking at him, albeit a bit nervously.

“What’s that?”

Rick looked hesitant now, like he was mentally backing out of whatever he was going to say. He leaned closer to Daryl still, until their hands were touching. Daryl glanced at Rick out of the corner of his eye. He could feel Rick’s body heat so incredibly close, and it made him shiver. Rick finally took his hand and held it as they looked out across the yard. Daryl fought back a grin and gave Rick’s hand a squeeze, leaning against him.

Nothing more had happened until about two weeks later. In those two weeks there had still been plenty of secret hand holding, stolen smiles and glances, the like. But one day after an especially tolling run, Daryl had made his decision. It had been rough out there; it was him, Rick, and Maggie, the car had stalled and they almost got taken out by a hoard. Daryl watched Rick almost get bit and he felt like he was about to lose everything he cared about. He had thrown the walker off of him after stabbing it and helped Rick up. He patted Daryl’s shoulder and nodded towards the car.

The moment they knew they were completely alone back at the prison, Daryl kissed Rick. The best part was Rick kissed him back, as if this was normal, as if it was how it had always been. Rick’s hand went to Daryl’s cheek and they leaned their foreheads together.

“I—“ Daryl started but Rick cut him off with another kiss.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I wanted to do it first, but I couldn’t find the right time.”

“Me too.” Daryl replied. “Figured you almost dyin’ was as good a reason as any.”

Rick chuckled, leaning back a bit, thumb running over Daryl’s cheekbone.

That was how it was after that. They didn’t tell anyone, not Glenn, not Carol, not anybody. There were nights where they would sneak off to an abandoned cell or hallway and just take their time, take in every bit of each other.

One night was different. Rick still had Daryl pushed up against the wall, still inside of him as they came down, slowing their breathing.

“I love you,” Rick breathed out so quietly, Daryl wasn’t sure he’d heard it right. He just turned his head around his shoulder and kissed Rick sweet and soft. Rick’s eyes were a little wide, pride and ego slowly melting away.

“I love you,” Daryl said finally. Of course he did. He always had.

It was like that for a while; sneaking off to fuck after everyone went to sleep, spending guard shifts paying attention to their job, but also pausing to make out like teenagers or just talking about everything. It was bliss Daryl had never experienced in his life, and it was with his absolute best friend.

The day the prison got broken into, Daryl left with Beth and there was no sign of Rick anywhere.

He and Beth had been through some shit, Daryl had gotten drunk and acted like a total asshole, and Beth was nothing but understanding, even though he may not have deserved it. That night, they sat on the porch of the house they had found, having a heart to heart. Beth, even with her naive nature that made Daryl have hope but also made him a little bitter. He’d never had the option to be optimistic in his life, always on high alert.

“You wanna know what I was before all this?” Daryl asked softly. “I was no one. Nothin’.”

Beth looked sad for a moment, but nodded for him to keep going.

“Until I found Rick and the group.” He continued. He had never told anyone about him and Rick, never ever. But Beth was understanding, and as much as she talked or sang or whatever, he knew he could trust her. She and Maggie felt like the younger sisters he never had.

“Rick and I—“ he took a breath before he spilled all the things he had never told anyone. “We were together. We’ve always been close, always been his right hand. But at some point it was more than that.”

Beth grinned dreamily. “Do you love him?”

He nodded, a small smile on his face thinking about it. Everything was shit right now, but despite everything he’d said when he yelled at her earlier, he knew they had to find Rick and their family.

“We’ll find them again,” Beth reassured. “We’re going to.”

He had lost Beth. He was alone, until he found the Claimers. He missed Beth, he missed having someone he trusted and who kept him sane. These guys were brutal, they were guys he knew not to cross.

The night they had found the guy Joe was looking for, Daryl heard a voice and immediately knew who he was.

Daryl heard Joe threatening Rick, so he stepped out of the shadows.

“Joe!” he said, causing him to turn towards Daryl. “You gotta let these guys go. They’re good people.”

He made quick eye contact with Rick, careful not to give anything away but screaming on the inside because Rick looked both terrified and relieved to see him. Michonne looked angry, but also so fucking scared at the same time.

He argued with Joe, he really tried.

“Hey, you want blood. I get it.” Daryl put his crossbow down and held his arms out. “Take it from me, man.”

The blows started almost immediately. The other Claimers just started wailing on him as hard as they could. He was praying he didn’t crack a rib or get kicked in the face or fucking die.

Joe’s voice was barely audible to him, Daryl’s heart pounding in his ears. “First, we’re gonna beat Daryl to death, then we’re gonna have the girl. Then the boy. Then I’m gonna kill you.”

Daryl knew he had to get up, he had to fight back, he had to save them. He had seen a man drag Carl out of the car and throw him on the ground, holding him down and unbuckling his belt. Oh, fuck no.

He listened to Rick plead with Joe, pleaded with him to let his son go, just let him go.

A gunshot rang through the air. The men stopped beating Daryl, and he got up to fight. It was rough, and he saw Rick stagger against the noise, and when Rick seemed almost incapable of fighting any longer, he looked Joe in the eye.

“What are you gonna do now?” Joe taunted, before Rick bit down on his neck and tore out his jugular.

Daryl couldn’t believe what he just saw, Rick unhinged and willing to do anything to protect his own.

They killed the other men, left them in the road and rested until morning.

Rick was sitting on the ground, back against the car, still covered in blood. Daryl poured a little water on a rag and handed it to him.

“We should save that to drink.” Rick said.

“You can’t see yourself, he can.” Daryl nodded toward Carl in the car. Daryl sat down next to him while he cleaned his face. “I didn’t know what they were.” he said sadly.

“How’d you end up with them?”

Daryl looked down at his lap. “I was with Beth. We got out together. I was with her for a while.”

There was a pause of silence until Rick asked if she was dead. Daryl shook his head and said she was just gone. He told him how he ended up with the Claimers, how they were looking for some guy, how he’d almost left them, but didn’t.

“That’s when I saw it was you three, right when you saw me.” His voice was sad and low. “I didn’t know what they could do.”

“It’s not on you, Daryl.” Rick took his hand. “You bein’ back here with us now, that’s everything.”

This was the first bit of physical contact they’d had since the prison. Daryl finally felt warm, even with how much he hurt after being beaten half to death, Rick’s hand on his was everything he needed right now.

“I love you,” Rick said quietly. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

Daryl nodded, and gave his hand a squeeze. Rick said it, but Daryl could tell he was still shaken up.

“Hey, what you did last night; Anybody would’ve done that.” he said reassuringly.

“No, not that.” Rick replied. Now he looked like he was trying to hold himself together. Rick had gotten violent before, but it was always to protect someone. His family was in danger and he saved them. “It ain’t all of it, but that’s me.”

Daryl knew how sad he looked, but he couldn’t help it. “You’re a good man. You protect your own,” Daryl lowered his voice a bit. “You’re the person I fell in love with, no matter what you do.”

Rick leaned into him until his head was resting on Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl kissed the top of his head and squeezed his hand.

They made it through Terminus. They made it through Grady hospital. They had most of the group back.

They lost Beth.

Daryl barely spoke the entire time they walked towards Washington. His family was there for him, and gave him enough space at the same time. Now that they had more people, Rick was busy leading all of them. Daryl knew it wasn’t his fault, but they began to drift apart. Things were rough, until they found Alexandria. Rick became constable, and had been making friends --and enemies-- all over. Most people respected him, but Daryl felt so out of place.

Rick had spent two nights at Daryl’s house, making sure to not draw attention to themselves. They had sex that night, but it was different. Rick was there with him, of course, but it almost felt sad. Like it was the last time they would be like this. They fit together so well before, but after all this time apart and everything they went through, they were different people.

The next night, they didn’t even fuck. They physically slept together, but that was it. Daryl had been wanting to have this conversation for a while, but he obviously didn’t want to do it after sex.

“Are you good?” Daryl asked as they lay next to each other.

Rick had his elbow on the pillow and rested his face in his hand as he turned towards Daryl. “I’m good. Are you?”

Daryl shrugged. “Feels like things are different. With us.”

Rick nodded solemnly. “I’ve had a lot goin’ on. I’m sorry I haven’t made time for us.”

Daryl shook his head. “Don’t feel bad. You’re doing so much good for everyone.” Daryl sat up then, wrapping his arms around his knees. “I know you’ve been eyeing Jessie. I noticed it almost the moment we got here.”

Rick sat up and put his hand on his shoulder. “I would never, ever do anything to hurt you. Nothing has ever happened with her.”

“I know,” Daryl said sadly. “But I get it. I ain’t the last person on earth.”

“Daryl, I know there’s still people out there, but I made the choice to be with you, you’re not just some guy.” Rick said firmly, but Daryl heard his voice falter. “You’re not just some option.”

“I love you,” Daryl said quietly. “I’ve always loved you and I always will. But I don’t want to hold you back. I’ll always be here for you when you need me, I’ll always do anything for you.”

Rick’s voice cracked. “But?”

Daryl finally looked at him and took in the heartbreak on his face. “But I need to let you go. I want you to be happy, and I’m not what makes you happy anymore.”

Rick looked like the wind had been knocked out of him, but after a moment Daryl could tell he was done denying the truth.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I never wanted to make you feel like you weren’t important. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Daryl took Rick into his arms and kissed the top of his head. “At least stay tonight?”

“Of course,” Rick said. “Anything for you.”

It took a few weeks before Daryl’s heart stopped feeling like it was going to fall into his stomach every time he saw Rick. He knew Rick had kissed Jessie, and he knew that it never turned into anything more. He stayed on the edges of Rick’s life, trying to keep a little bit of distance so he didn’t die from pining after his lost love.

When they did end up going on a run together, it felt like old times. Not like nothing romantic had ever happened, but that comfort he felt whenever he was with Rick. He missed his best friend, and he was starting to be okay with that being all they were.

That’s when they met Jesus. Daryl was annoyed with him immediately, but he fought back this nagging feeling of attraction. He didn’t trust the guy, and he certainly didn’t want him around his home. But little by little, Jesus started to grow on him. Before Daryl knew it, they were working together a lot more, and they worked together well. He hadn’t felt this way ever; his feelings for Rick were completely different. Jesus was not only charismatic and caring, but he was out and proud. Daryl had had one sexual relationship with a man who was openly gay, before everything went to shit, but it was still before Daryl had come out. He pushed his feelings to the back of his mind, not wanting to think about what another heartbreak would do to him at this point.

The Hilltop was bustling with activity. Everyone was doing some sort of work; laundry or farming or building something. Daryl was making new arrows on the Barrington House porch, and Rick was beside him lacing his boots and waiting for Maggie to come by. She and Rick had some sort of business to discuss between the two communities.

“First nice day we’ve had in a while,” Rick said, pushing his curls out of his face. “You goin’ hunting before the party tonight?”

“Yeah, gonna try and bring back something big.” Daryl nodded. “I don’t know what you mean, though. ‘S fuckin’ hot.”

Rick laughed. “Maybe if you didn’t wear a leather vest everywhere.”

Daryl rolled his eyes and went back to his arrows. He eventually felt Rick nudge him, and when he looked up he saw Jesus and Maggie down the street walking towards them.

“Y’know, I think he likes you.” Rick said.

Daryl looked at him and scoffed. Rick was trying to wingman for him now, great.

Daryl looked back in Jesus’ direction. He did actually have a little bit of a crush on the guy; he was a good goddamn fighter, but still a gentle, caring person. He certainly wasn’t hard on the eyes, either.

“Hey,” Jesus greeted them as they walked onto the sidewalk.

“Rick, you ready?” Maggie asked.

Rick stood up and patted Daryl on the shoulder. “Ready. Hey, Jesus, you busy today?”

Jesus shrugged. “No, not really. Do you need something?”

“Yeah,” Rick said, the smile undeniable in his voice. Daryl knew exactly what was about to happen, fuck. “Daryl’s goin’ huntin’ today. Trying to have enough food for the party tonight and then some, couldn’t hurt to have an extra pair of hands.”

Jesus smiled. “Yeah, absolutely.”

Rick nodded and walked off the porch and off with Maggie.

“Bye, Daryl!” Maggie threw Daryl a smirk over her shoulder. This was a goddamn conspiracy, Daryl knew it.

“So, when were you planning on heading out?” Jesus asked.

Daryl cleared his throat and pushed his hair out of his face. “Probably twenty minutes? Gotta finish these arrows and then I’m ready.”

“Cool, I’ll grab my stuff and meet you back here?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah, that works.”

Jesus walked toward his trailer and Daryl watched after him the whole way. Jesus definitely liked him as a friend at least, they had started staying closer to each other during missions, often opting to work together. They made a good team, and Rick definitely noticed, putting them together on jobs a lot more recently.

It had been a good hunt, Daryl and Jesus hauled back a deer and a few squirrels. When they were done there was about an hour before the party started. They started walking toward Barrington House so Daryl could get changed and Jesus and Maggie could catch up on the day.

“Y’know, I’m kind of excited for tonight.” Jesus said optimistically. “I never used to be the party type, but this feels more...I don’t know, comfortable, I guess.”

Daryl nodded. “Parties are different when they’re with family.”

“I don’t know, you seem like a total party animal.” Jesus nudged him and Daryl smirked back at him.

They walked into the house and said hi to Rick in the foyer.

Jesus started heading up the stairs and turned to Daryl. “I’ll find you at the party later.”

“See you then.” Daryl said back, and watched Jesus disappear into Maggie’s office.

“Hey, you’re gonna get drool on the floor if you don’t stop now,” Rick teased. Daryl snapped out of it and turned toward him.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” Daryl huffed.

“Yeah, you do.” Rick smiled. “I know that look on you, Daryl. Remember?”

He shook his head and laughed under his breath. “Shut up, Grimes.”

The party was really, really nice. Everyone was gathered around a bonfire and there were tables of food setup all around. It was homey, and full of community. Daryl leaned against a tree and looked out over the crowd.

“Hey,” Jesus walked up to him then. He looked nice with his hair down as opposed to the bun he put it in when they were hunting. Even with the bun he looked good, which annoyed Daryl to no end. You couldn’t look that good all the time, it wasn’t fair.

“Hi,” Daryl replied. “How’s it goin’?”

“Pretty good, it was nice to shower after today. It really is too hot for that trenchcoat.” Jesus shook his head.

Daryl shrugged. “Could just get a vest.”

Jesus smiled. “Maybe. Yours does look pretty nice.”

“I bet it’d look nice on you,” Daryl smirked. “Too bad we’ll never know.”

“Harsh,” Jesus nudged him.

They joined the party once more, until the kids started to go to bed. The adults stuck around for a while, and everyone was still drinking and eating and having fun. After drinking a good amount of whiskey, Daryl and Jesus had a slight buzz going on. They were laughing together, maybe even flirting a bit, which Daryl didn’t normally know how to do, but with Jesus it was just easy.

Jesus turned to him at one point, and it was like everyone else fell away. He saw Jesus look at his lips, then look away quickly.

“Wanna go drink some more at my place?” he asked. Daryl would’ve been nervous, but the liquid courage helped with that. He was pretty sure he knew what this meant, why Jesus wanted to be alone with him.

“Yeah, I do.”

Back at the trailer, Jesus got two cups and poured some more whiskey for them. He handed Daryl a glass and took a sip of his own. They sat on the couch, Jesus sitting against the arm so he could face Daryl.

“That was pretty fun,” Jesus said. “Felt...normal.”

“Whatever that means,” Daryl sipped his drink. “But yeah, it was nice.”

“I’m glad you’re around more,” Jesus said after a few moments. “It’s really nice getting to see you.”

Daryl blushed and drank a good amount of his whiskey and put it on the table.

“I like bein’ around.” Daryl’s voice was low and gravelly, the alcohol relaxing him. “I like bein’ around you.”

Jesus was the one to blush now, but he seemed a little more confident. They were sitting closer together now, one of them could easily lean in to close the space. Jesus did, after a second of contemplating, and his lips were as soft as Daryl had imagined. Daryl pushed back a bit more, deepening the kiss, and one of his hands instinctively went to Jesus’ hip. Jesus put his hand on the back of Daryl’s neck, holding him there. Jesus pulled away first, putting his forehead against Daryl’s as they breathed each other in.

“Thank god,” Jesus laughed under his breath. “I wasn’t sure if that was going to go well.”

Daryl raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes at Jesus. What was that supposed to mean? Did he expect the kiss to be bad?

“No! I mean—“ he put his hand on Daryl’s cheek and looked sincerely into his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if you liked me back. I didn’t know if you’d want me to kiss you or if it was going to freak you out.”

Daryl couldn’t fight the small grin on his face. “I’m glad you did. I didn’t know if you wanted it.”

“Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page now.” Jesus smiled, and for the first time in a long time, Daryl felt like something was going right.

#daryl x rick #daryl x jesus #desus #twd #rickyl #twd fanfic #twd fic #desus fic #desus fanfic #my fic

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animalkingdom-an0nymous · 3 years

Text

False God- Sean Wallace

Disclaimer: No gifs or photos are mine unless stated otherwise.

Warning: A violent, smutty NSFW Sean Wallace fic. What if that last day ended differently? What if Sean made it out with his wounds? And what if there was someone from his childhood who haunted him just as much as he haunted her?

Subject: Sean X Y/N

Growing up, Sean Wallace and I were one in the same. We liked the same jokes, ate our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cut the same way- in triangles- and our only real difference was that I was an American. Our fathers, both legendary crime bosses in their own right, were great business partners and made each other filthy rich. We were dangerously similar.

Until we weren’t.

I’d been in America when Finn Wallace was murdered, and I’d stayed in America during the aftermath. My father had cared deeply for Finn, but the world we lived in was fucking brutal, cold, and my dad would never risk my well being by allowing me to go to the UK to be with Sean.

Hearing about all of it had been a nightmare, though. Hearing about murders and the carnage, communities and families wiped out when Sean locked the city down. My heart ached for the boy I once knew and feared for the man that was, and then, just as quickly as it all blew up, the flames went out. All was quiet.

Sean Wallace was dead.

Or so the world thought. My father, who had an in with Billy and Jac, knew the truth. The Wallace family had connections within the police force- cliché, right?- and when a few of their own found him lying in a pool of his own blood, bleeding out from his fucking face, they quickly pronounced him dead at the scene. I didn’t know the ins and outs, didn’t care to, because the life I lived now was so far from the life I was forced to live as a child. All I knew was they got him out of there and Sean Wallace, as London knew him, was dead.

I needed him to stay that way.

It had been nearly a year since then, nearly a year since I last had the nerve to ask my dad about him. I think he knew how I felt, knew I had gone to great lengths to distance myself from him and my mother and the hellish, brutal life they created. But that didn’t mean my dad didn’t love me. I knew he did in his own, twisted way, and I knew he caught on to the hurt I felt whenever Sean’s name was mentioned.

So he stopped mentioning it.

Billy and Jac were stateside and living under different names, that much I knew. I had yet to see them, but I knew they were close enough to drive to because my mother had made sure to mention in her last email that their “home was beautiful and they think it was quite rude of you not to come around and visit, Y/N.”

It was bullshit. Billy and Jac didn’t feel any type of way about me, we were never close. That was reserved specifically for Sean and me. And look how well that turned out.

I was haunted by the ghost of a man I didn’t even know anymore.

He was labeled as a terrorist and maybe that’s what hurt more than anything. I could never scream from the rooftops how much I fucking loved him because that’s crazy. Because who could love a terrorist? Who could love a man that had murdered, cheated, stolen to get his way? And if I did love him, what kind of woman did that make me?

It was a thought that had been in my mind on replay all day long, the musings drifting into the night as I drove towards my childhood home. I had made the agreement with my parents- namely my father- that once a month I would return home for dinner. It was nearly a two hour drive but one that I committed to because if I didn’t I knew they would show up at my apartment. And what twenty-something year old woman wants her parents showing up at her apartment unannounced?

The gravel ground under my tires as I pulled my all black BMW into the driveway. It was already dark and I knew my mother would have something to say about me showing up late, but at least I showed up. Sure, I was still wearing the navy blue pantsuit I’d worn at work all day and I usually changed whenever I had dinner with them, but my mind was occupied tonight. By thoughts of Sean. By thoughts of Sean getting his face blown off. Did it hurt? Did he remember? Would I ever know?

My father met me at the door. Six foot three and wide like a linebacker, the man was not to be messed with. He was no nonsense and the only people he smiled at were me and the people he was going to shoot right before he shot them. You can do what you want with that information.

“My little angel,” he said and reached for me, taking both my hands in his and bringing them to his lips. It was a simple gesture but one he did every single time. It was the one constant my dad ever provided me. “How was the drive up?”

“Traffic wasn’t too bad tonight, but I ended up getting out a bit later than I thought I would.”

He swung an arm around me as we made our way through the marble foyer, my heels clacking against the floor. “My art gallery owner. Your mother and I are so proud of you.”

I raised my eyebrows. He was feeding me bullshit, both he and my mom wanted me in the family business more than anything, but from the time I could voice my opinion I let them know. No. I would be taking no part in the family business.

Not that I didn’t know my shit. I knew my way around a gun shop and had a better shot than half the men my dad hired to protect us. I hit harder than my first two boyfriends and let everyone know that my last name was still my last name and not to fuck with me. I knew I was untouchable.

That didn’t mean I was embracing the lifestyle.

“Yeah, business is going great, I even hired someone part-time to help out.”

“Background check?”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Of course.”

“Family ties?”

“Her name is Mindy and she’s from a farm in rural Kansas.”

He paused and raised his eyebrows, one of the rare times my father ever looked shocked. “She doesn’t even know what our last name holds, does she?”

I shook my head. “Not a clue.”

He laughed his hearty, deep chuckle and stopped us at the bar cart outside of the dining room. As always, he grabbed two tumblers and threw a handful of ice in each before adding to fingers of whiskey. Our favorite. One of our few commonalities. “Proud of you, kid.”

“Thanks, dad.”

I was about to ask him how his week was when my mother’s voice drifted in from the balcony. She liked to drink her wine out there at night, before dinner. Just one glass, but it was a ritual she followed religiously. Her voice was somewhat raspy, a little cold, and I could hear her laughter as though it was wrapping around me like a vine.

But that was the thing; my mother drank her wine outside alone. That was her time. So who was she laughing at?

I glanced over my shoulder at my father to find him looking as though he was at a loss for words. It was so rare that he was speechless, a man of his stature always held a level of composure that was sometimes shocking. But not this time.

“Dad, wha-“

“You’re going to want to finish that drink, angel.”

My blood ran cold at his words. His tone was low, suddenly serious. The lighthearted moment from before was gone, something dark and heavy in its place.

I should have listened to him and finished the drink because as soon as I turned around I was met with the coldest, most pristine set of blue eyes I’d ever seen. Eyes that I once swore I would drown in someday.

Sean Wallace was standing eight feet in front of me. It was the first time we had seen each other in years, the first time I’d seen him since he was… dead.

His face was… fucked. Marred by the bullet that ripped through his left cheek on that fateful day. The skin was raised, almost burn-like, and left a medium sized indent in what would otherwise be a perfectly symmetrical face. His left eyelid held a little lower and it looked like he tried to cover up the other, minor scars with the facial hair that littered his jaw and around his mouth.

But even with the new, broken face, Sean Wallace was still the most breathtaking man in the room. His suit was impeccable and fit him like a glove, the stormy gray matching the storm that seemed to be raging in his eyes. His tie was a navy that matched my own suit and it felt like the universe was pointing at me and laughing. It felt like that bitch was having the time of her life watching me suffer.

“I…” I started, unsure of how to finish.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I know this” he held a hand up to his face “is a lot to take in.”

I already shook my head, my stomach turning at the thought of him thinking he was ugly. “No! No, I… I, I’m, I wasn’t-“

“Best private schools in the state and she still has that damn stutter.” My mother’s cutting voice ceased my own and I bit at the inside of my cheek. She came around the corner in all her glory, designer dress, perfect manicure and not a hair out of place.

She made me fucking sick.

“It’s nice to see you.” I finally managed to get the words out, although I didn’t know if I was talking to Sean or my mom.

“Jesus, Y/N, you couldn’t even change first?”

“I think she looks great.” Sean’s voice caught everyone off guard and even my mom turned to look at him. “Beautiful, really. You always looked great in a suit.”

I knew he was referring to my high school graduation. Sean was two years older and had flown in to see me graduate. My mom, ever the lady, was determined to force me into a nightmare of a ball gown while I wanted a simple, chic suit. Sean had been there for the entire screaming match, laughing at my mother as she tripped over the dress she had been hellbent on making me wear.

I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged my lips and nodded at him. “Thank you.”

He nodded in return and said nothing else.

“Let’s eat, shall we?” I felt my dad’s hand on my back as he ushered me into the dining room. My feet felt like stone blocks were attached to them as I walked, feeling Sean directly behind me with his eyes burning holes into my suit jacket.

We all sat in silence with the ghost of my past sitting directly across from me. Sean made no secret that he was staring at me and it reminded me of the ignorant young boy I once knew. Sean knew he was handsome, powerful, and could easily get his way. He held himself with the confidence of a man who had everything and it seemed a gunshot to the face didn’t change that.

“You’ve managed to stay under the radar.” I noted as one of the maids poured red wine into my glass.

“Y/N!” my mother scolded.

I raised my eyebrows and didn’t glance in her direction, my eyes holding Sean’s. “What? Are we supposed to sit here and pretend everything is normal? You want me to ask him about the weather?”

“Y/N…” my father’s tone held a warning in it.

“No, she’s right.” Sean spoke up as I took a hearty gulp of wine. “Facial reconstruction had me laid up for a bit. Reconstructing an entire cheekbone can be tricky. And expensive.”

I nodded. “Especially when the entire cheekbone belongs to a dead man.”

The room fell quiet with even the staff scurrying to disappear. My mother was glaring at me and I was sure my father was too, but I didn’t care. I’d spent my entire childhood and teen years caring about and loving Sean only for him to cut me off when he became Finn’s minion and then fake his own fucking death a few years after. He got so caught up in the Wallace life, in the life I thought we both hated, that he forgot about me. And I was angry about it.

“I deserve that.” His accent was the same as always. Smooth. Elegant. The best that private school could buy. “I should have reached out sooner as I knew my siblings were in touch.”

My mother, the martyr, was quick to reassure him. “Sweetheart, you don’t owe us anything. We’re just so happy you’re alright.”

She was so warm with him, a complete contrast to how she acted with me. It was a constant reminder that she always wanted a son and ended up with me instead.

My father opened his mouth to speak when his right hand, Marcus, walked in with a phone in his hand. His face looked pinched, stressed, and my father immediately stood. “Excuse me.”

Sean nodded politely and turned to my mother, but she was already standing and following behind dad, sensing his stress.

“Should we be concerned?”

I shook my head, my eyes still trained in the doorway. “I doubt it.”

Things were quiet then. Too fucking quiet. So quiet I felt like I was suffocating. I took a sip of wine. Then another. Another until my glass was empty and the bottle was taunting me from the center of the table.

“You have every right to be angry.”

“I’m not angry.” I was instantly defensive.

His smile was small, but it was there. “You always were a shit liar.”

“You were always a good one.”

His smile disappeared then and I was soon sitting across from the gangster that was always lurking underneath. Sean could do cool, calm, and collected. But he could only hide the angry, arrogant Wallace traits for so long.

“I… can’t remember the last time we were face to face.”

I shrugged my shoulders, suddenly uncomfortable. “Christmas. Six years ago. Kingston.”

His smile- God, that fucking smile- reappeared. “You threw a drink in my face.”

“You called me a spoiled fucking twat.”

“You were acting like one.”

Now it was my turn to smile. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help it. My early twenties were filled with vodka soda fueled arguments and boyfriends that my family- and Sean- hated. I was so different, that girl doesn’t even seem real anymore.

I was about to respond when I heard shouting coming from down the hall. My father’s office.

Sean and I stood at the same time, both of us sensing a certain level of danger. My father rarely ever shouted, it had to be something catastrophic for him to raise his voice like that.

Entering the hall, I quickly grabbed my bag next to the bar cart and produced my glock before tucking it into my waistband. Sean watched me silently the entire time. He was getting a little too comfortable with staring at me.

“Always prepared.”

“Family business, right?” I shot back at him over my shoulder as we neared my father’s study.

“No, no, fucking No! What do you mean they’re all dead? An entire fucking warehouse of people and they’re all fucking dead?”

My heart stopped in my chest. That was… impossible. The warehouses were untouchable, no one knew where they were unless they were part of our inner circle. Our microscopic inner circle. Which could only mean one thing…

It was an inside job.

“Fuck.” I spat. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Y/N, something’s happened.” My mother appeared in the doorway as we approached.

“Who did it?” I asked, getting straight to the point. “Any ideas?”

My dad was seated behind his wooden desk, a desk so large it was fit for a king. When I was a child I would spend hours in there reading on the stuffed leather couch while he worked silently. It was one of the few places I felt “safe” growing up.

“Kensington’s dead.” Our eyes met.

Rodger Kensington was my father’s longtime business partner and someone who was like an uncle to me. He’d been there at my prom, my graduation, and when I took my first steps. He was… family.

“Shit.” Sean’s word was quick and quiet, but then I remembered he knew Rodger too, and he knew what this meant.

“What about Sherry? The kids?” I was desperate to make sure their little ones were alright, they were all so young.

“They’re fine. They weren’t home, they-“

My father never got the words out as one of the staff walked in. I had turned at the sound of him entering the room, just barely meeting his eye as he raised his arm, a small handgun pointed directly at the man whose home we were in.

“Y/N!” My mother screaming my name like that would haunt my nightmares for months after.

A single shot rang out and my ears rang, a gasp leaving my lips as I reached for the gun in my waistband. But it wasn’t there.

The man was dead, a gunshot to the temple with crimson blood spilling all over the Italian wood floors. And then there was Sean, standing at my side with my gun pointed straight ahead, a dead look in his eyes.

It was all dangerously quiet and I could hear my own heartbeat, but only for a moment. Because as soon as I took a single breath, shit hit the fan.

My mother released a blood curdling scream, Marcus rushing to her side and grabbing her as she collapsed. My father, stoic, stood and walked over to the wardrobe near the window, swiftly pulling out guns and rounds of ammo. More security rushed in and I stood next to Sean, everything moving in slow motion. I could hear voices, hear my dad barking commands at his security who acted like his soldiers.

“There’s blood on my shoes.”

“What?”

What? Did I just say there was blood on my shoes? But it was true. My expensive cream suede shoes had blood splatter on them and I was ninety percent sure there was bone fragment near my heel.

“Blood. On my shoes.” My voice sounded far away.

Sean was suddenly in front of me and tucking my gun back into my waist while everyone shouted around us. “I’ll buy you a new pair. Bought them at the store on fifth, yeah?”

“How the fuck did you-“ I stopped, putting two and two together. “Have you been watching me?”

Sean’s face changed then and he straightened his shoulders. Our height nearly matched but only because of my heels, and I knew his gesture was dominant, authoritative. “I promise we can talk about that later, but-“

I pushed past him and walked towards my father who was barking orders into a phone. “Did you have Sean keep tabs on me?”

“Y/N, this isn’t the time for you to complain about your independence.”

I slammed my hand down on the wooden desk the same way I had watched him do it so. Many. Times. “Answer me!”

My father, all six foot three of him, stood tall and looked over me even with a desk separating us. “Watch yourself, young lady.”

“What the fuck is going on that you hired someone to watch me? That you hired Sean to watch me? What aren’t you telling me?”

He paused for the briefest of moments while everyone moved around us. I could hear safeties being turned off, my mom screaming down the hallway, and feel Sean standing close enough that I could smell his cologne.

“I’ve known for a bit that someone on the inside was giving information to Merkov brothers. Rodger and I spent months sifting through the weeds trying to figure out who it was. We had a break last night, I was going to tell you everything-“

“Four black SUV’s were spotted five miles from the property. Moving quickly. We need to go.” Marcus had appeared in the doorway sans my mother, his face wiped of anything sort of emotion. In fact, Marcus may have been the most emotionless man I had ever come into contact with. I would even venture to call him heartless.

“Shit.” My dad scrubbed a hand over his face. “I promise I will tell you everything, angel.” He looked at me, the desk separating us. “But right now you need to go and it can’t be back to your apartment.”

“Dad, I…” I had no idea what to say. I couldn’t go back to my apartment in the city, there was most definitely a hit out on my family, including myself, and Sean Wallace was back from the fucking dead. My day was going from bad to worse, my life blowing up in a twenty minute time span.

But I knew my last name, knew the weight it carried. I knew I had a certain responsibility to handle my shit and handle it well, with my shoulders back and my chin up.

“Where am I going?”

He was already on the move and I was on his heels, following him down the winding hallways of the home I grew up in. It was the same house that was sure to be shot to shit as soon as those SUV’s showed up.

“Harbor House.” He barked over his shoulder. “You can drive down there in the charger. Tinted windows. Marcus, have Anthony load a bag into the car. Ammo, guns, everything she’ll need.”

“No one knows where Harbor House is except us.” I reminded him. His business partners may have known about the warehouses and my father’s permanent residence, but Harbor House was for family and family alone.

“I’m not taking any chances, Y/N, not with you. Sean will accompany you and you’ll stay there until you hear from me. I’ll call-“

“What?” I cut him off. “Sean’s not coming with me.”

“I’m not taking any chances with you.” He repeated.

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

Sean cleared his throat behind me and I refused to look at him. I knew he was offended by what I’d said, but quite honestly I was offended by everything he had done since stepping foot in my parents’ home that day.

“This isn’t about what you need or want, Y/N. He’s going with you.”

I was about to fully lose my temper when shots rang out through the house. I reached for my glock and turned the safety off, immediately ducking behind a marble pillar with Sean’s hand on my elbow, holding me still.

There was yelling and gunshots, some of the housekeepers screaming bloody murder from the second and third floors. There was no way those SUV’s were already on the property, no way. It had to be someone else.

Someone had burned our entire fucking family.

“Dad!” I yelled as a bullet whirred past my head.

“Y/N, go! Now!” I could hear him but I couldn’t fucking see him. Marco was beating the shit out of a man dressed all in black, ripping his gun away and firing off a round into his chest. The smell of blood and gunpowder burned my nostrils and I winced.

“I’m not leaving you!” I screamed so loud my voice cracked.

“Sean!” My father shouted. “Get her the fuck out of here! Get her out now, kid! Now!”

I glanced over at Sean, warning him with my eyes not to touch me, but it was too late. He ripped the gun from my hand and wrapped an arm around my waist, tugging me backwards.

“Sean, no!” I screamed, trying to pull away.

“We have to go, Y/N.” He dragged me down the hall while I fought him the whole way , dragging my feet and scratching at the suit clad arm wrapped around my waist. He finally stopped at the side door at the end of the hall and yanked it open before tossing me in.

I stumbled across the cold concrete of the garage and caught myself against the car I was supposed to be leaving in.

Sean locked the door behind him and turned to me, my gun still in his hand. “In.” He motioned to the car.

Still the same, bossy man he always was. Without responding, I turned and made my way across the expansive garage, shoving a table out of the way and yanking open the drawers of a metal cabinet.

“Y/N!” Sean was losing his temper and we were losing time.

“You took my gun!” I finally screamed back, practically growling at him as I picked up twin Berettas and tucked them into the back of my waistband. I grabbed a rifle to throw into the backseat, and one more Glock since Sean had unceremoniously stolen mine and left me empty handed.

He was staring at me as I made my way back to the car, his chest heaving. God, he still looked good. A gunshot to the face only amplified how rough and beautiful he was. Dumb fucking asshole and his dumb fucking face.

I grabbed the keys from the wall and tossed them to Sean who caught them with one hand.

Show off, I thought to myself sullenly as I got into the passenger side, my heart leaping out of my chest. I was about to leave my parents to potentially die. My childhood home was being torn apart, half the staff that knew me since I was a child were now lying dead in the same house they’d dedicated their lives to. It made me sick.

“Just focus on driving.” I told him as the garage door began to rise. I could already see the shadows of feet on the concrete leaned halfway out the window, my nine millimeter raised. One shot to the knee and a man fell, a second shot between the eyes and he was done.

The second man was smart, moved off to the side and just out of aim, and Sean floored the gas pedal while I kept watch.

“Your left.” I said quietly and pointed the gun in front of him, sending shots flying out of the driver’s side door, taking out the second man who had been waiting for us.

“Three of them in front of the gate.” Sean nodded towards the gate at the side of the property, all of them holding assault rifles and aiming at us. “Duck.” he commanded with the car still in reverse.

“What?”

“Duck.” I felt his hand grab at the back of my head he shoved me down, my forehead nearly knocking against my knee as he picked up speed. A loud blast blew out the back windshield and then there was a loud, violent thunk.

His wide palm was still resting on the back of my head, grip so tight it made my scalp prickle in a way that annoyed me. My body had no business getting turned on while in the midst of this shit.

When the tires squealed against the gravel and we went surging forward, I sat back up. I could see smoke coming out of the windows, bullet holes in the brick and mortar. It was a fucking war zone and we were on our way out, leaving behind my family and any shred of sanity I had left.

Fuck.

* * * * * *

The ride to Harbor House was almost completely silent. Sean, ever the Brit, would curse out other drivers every now and then even though ninety percent of the mistakes were his own. Maybe I should have insisted on driving, but at the time the only thing I could think about was whether or not my parents got out.

Although we were never close, I didn’t wish death on my parents. Sure, I resented them for bringing me up in a life of chaos and violence and I’m well aware they caused me a lifetime of trauma, but that didn’t mean I wanted them dead. Definitely not murdered.

It was nearly midnight by the time we arrived. Harbor House was in an exclusive neighborhood and every home had a gate. It had been years since I was last at the house, but it held the only fond memories from my childhood. Harbor House and the Wallace house always felt like home to me. Strange that I was sitting next to a Wallace and not a single shred of me felt comfortable or at home. It was strange, when we were kids he was always my safe space.

I punched in the code and black iron gates opened up, promptly closing with a loud clang behind us. The property itself was a sprawling estate with a two floor home as well as a large yard, pool, and separate guest house. It was on the edge of a cliff and overlooked the Atlantic. Isolated. Safe. Private. The kind of place my family relied on to keep us safe.

“Pull the car into the garage, we’ll get a rental tomorrow.” My voice was monotonous. I felt so drained of every emotion other than pure exhaustion. I was covered in blood, my clothes smelled like gunpowder and sweat, I needed a hot shower.

Sean silently pulled into the garage and killed the engine. We sat there quietly for a moment, so quiet I couldn’t even hear him breathing. If he had any blood on him, I couldn’t tell. From this angle he looked every bit the GQ model. It was only when he turned his face to look at me that I got a glimpse of the mauled left half and got angry all over again.

I was angry at my parents for birthing me into this.

I was angry at whoever burned us.

I was angry at Sean for disappearing from my life in favor of violence. But I was so fucking angry that he had let it go so far that the world thought he was dead.

I almost wished he was.

“There’s five bedrooms. I trust that you’ll find one far away from me?” I phrased it like a question but we both knew it wasn’t.

He gave a curt nod.

The house was exactly as I remembered it. It even smelled the same. Hardwood floors, light walls, French doors leading to a beautiful deck. A kitchen so modern it would make Gordon Ramsey cream his pants. It was the homiest home my family had. It was my haven.

Only now Sean was here to cast a shadow over it.

“There’s plenty of clothes in all the guest bedrooms. My parents like to be prepared for every emergency, you know that.”

Sean nodded as he closed the door that connected to the garage. He locked it and was quick to set the code. The code that he definitely shouldn’t have had.

“How did you-“

“Your father.”

I raised my eyebrows incredulously. “My father gave you the codes to Harbor House?”

He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, eyes narrowing. “He gave me the code for the gate too, but I was polite enough to let you do it. That’s something, innit?”

He was being a smart ass, pushing my buttons on purpose simply because he could. Or because he’d had enough of my attitude. Either way, I wasn’t having it.

“You must be so fuckin’ proud of yourself. You still have an in with my father even after the shit you pulled in London. My father, Sean, not me. You don’t have shit with me and you made that perfectly clear.”

He squared his shoulders and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as I sat on the edge of a beautiful cream colored sofa. I couldn’t wait to sink into it tomorrow with a good book.

I quickly fingered at the straps on my heels and kicked them off while mentally preparing for whatever speech he was about to throw my way.

“I’ve really had enough of you talking to me like I’m some shit person. Enough, Y/N.”

I stood back up, hating that I was smaller than him now as I turned on my heel and headed up the stairs. “If you hate my attitude so much then leave me the fuck alone and let me take a shower in peace.”

* * * * *

My shower was hot and relaxing and everything I needed. As soon as the steam surrounded me, I was able to calm down a bit, and once the hot water hit my skin I was able to sigh in relief. Washing off the blood and grime left me feeling like a whole new woman.

So new, in fact, I briefly forgot about the bane of my existence showering down the hall.

Sean. Showering. Sean in the shower with water dripping down his chest and into that perfect V of his hips. Sean’s hot, wet body pressed against mine. Sean’s-

“Can you not?” I said to my reflection as I ran a brush through my hair. Even when I was angry at him, violently angry, it was impossible to deny that he was attractive.

We never hooked up, not even when we were young. But there was always something there. We flirted. We toyed with each other. We got into nasty arguments. People noticed, my friends made comments. I always ignored them and played it off and said it was because we knew each other forever and just connected that way. They all argued that it was more.

I ignored them.

After changing into a comfortable pair of loose cotton pants and a long sleeved shirt, I made my way downstairs. The windows were open and I could hear the waves crashing against the cliff side. My favorite sound. It gave me peace. It soothed me.

The kitchen was empty and I grabbed a bottle of red wine with every intention of drinking the entire bottle. After pouring a rather large amount into the pristine crystal stemware my mother bought, I threw my head back and took a long, large sip.

Ugh. That’s better. I closed my eyes and took another sip, getting lost in the sound of the waves and the dark, cherry taste of the wine. A moment of peace after all the bullshit I had to endure tonight.

It was only when Sean cleared his throat that I realized I wasn’t alone. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs wearing black sweats and a white t-shirt. Simple. Clean. Comfortable. If this had been a few years ago I would have been aching to curl up against him.

“Kitchen’s all yours,” I said as I grabbed my glass and bottle, preparing to go out back.

“You told me you didn’t want to talk to me anymore.” His words cut like a knife to my retreating back and it made me pause, not yet turning around. “You fucking told me you were done.”

I knew what he was referring to. The last time we spoke had been over the phone, maybe four years ago. It had been a normal night with normal conversation and normal “I miss yous”. Sean had truly been one of my best friends and closest confidants. And then the conversation turned ugly when he informed me his father was sending him out on a seriously violent, potentially fatal, mission. Our argument had gotten vile and I said horrible things. He did too, including telling me to “stop acting like a girlfriend because you’re so fucking lonely”.

That had been my breaking point. He reminded me so much of Finn then. He dressed like him, spoke like him, became a carbon copy of him, and I was having none of it. So I had told him to fuck off and lose my number, to never call me again, to pretend I was dead.

It was the one time Sean listened to me and the one time I wished he hadn’t.

To this day, I got embarrassed when I thought about what he had said to me. The way he screamed and the way he humiliated me. Maybe I was lonely, maybe it came off as clingy, but my intentions were always good and I never thought I was a burden to him. But after that last conversation I spent years telling myself that’s exactly what I was. A burden. I checked in too much, my double texting him probably got on his nerves. Constantly complaining about our families when I knew how fortunate I was to live such a lavish life made me sound spoiled, he got tired of it. I spent years convincing myself there was no possible way he missed me and I didn’t miss him either.

“Do you even remember our last conversation?” I turned slowly to face him. “Do you remember what you said?”

He took a step forward and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Of course I do. I’ve had plenty of time to think about it- you. I’d been out drinking with my father-“

“And then turned into him?”

“Oh, fuck off then.” He shook his head, his frustration evident as he rounded the marble island in the kitchen. An expert, he seemed to know where everything was. The glasses. The whiskey.

“I’m not wrong.” I defended myself.

Sean laughed and the sound was hollow, sarcastic. He took a sip of whiskey before turning to me with a cold look in his eyes. “And I wasn’t wrong that day either. Was I?”

I scowled at him to mask the absolute hurt I was experiencing. My heart ached. He’d known he was hurting me. He didn’t care. He remembered and he didn’t care.

“Oh, fuck you, Sean.” I whispered before quickly pushing through the french doors and stepping onto the deck.

“Oi!” Sean shouted as I slammed the doors behind me, taking off down the steps, wine glass in hand.

“I’m not done talking to you.” Sean was hot on my heels.

“The conversation is over.”

“Like hell it is.” I felt long, thick fingers curl around my elbow and then he was hauling me back against him. “You say what you want to say and then think we’re done. We’re not.”

I ripped my arm back and shoved my finger in his face. “I’ve waited four years to say this shit to you!”

“So have I!” He shouted back, the vein in his neck becoming prominent. The female part of my brain wondered what it would feel like to run my tongue along that vein, feel it pulse against my mouth.

Wrong time, I thought to myself and shook my head. “You fucked off for four years, faked your own death, and now I found out my father has had you following me. I don’t know what kind of weird, stalker fetish you’ve developed, but it’s really not doing anything for me.”

Okay, maybe that last part was flat out bitchy, but at that point I didn’t care.

I drained my wine glass while I waited for his response.

“Would you like to tell me about your fetishes?”

“Sure, they all involve watching you bleed out.”

“Should have been there a year ago then, yeah?”

I didn’t have a response for that. I zeroed in on the left half of his face, the scar on his cheek. His cheekbone curved differently, probably because it was handmade, and his scar disappeared into his stubble. He looked so vastly different from the Sean I used to know. He was hardened by life, by Finn’s life. Thirty and angry and alone and legally dead.

I ached for the Sean I once knew, but this wasn’t him.

“How long have you been watching me?”

“A little more than three months.”

“Three months?” I was shocked. I’d had a tail for three months and I didn’t even know it? How embarrassing.

“You wouldn’t have known.” It was as though he could read my mind. “I’ve always been better at it than you.”

“You’re so fucking cocky.” I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or slap him, so instead I walked past him and back up the stairs, making my way back into the house to refill my glass. I knew he was following me, knew that the alcohol in my bloodstream was making me feel bold, more bold than I was sober.

Sean closed the French doors, the lock clicking with a tone of finality. I was too aware of it.

“You were shit as hide and seek when we were kids.”

“So that makes you a better spy?”

His tone was serious when he responded. “I was never spying on you. I didn’t have access to your flat. I didn’t follow you around with that ugly wanker with gray hair.”

“Leave Beckett out of this.”

“Beckett?” It was the first time his face had resembled something other than anger. He looked amused. “You’re dating a man named Beckett?”

I cocked my head to the side, narrowing my eyes. “We actually aren’t discussing my dating life, we’re talking about my stalker.”

“Stop saying that. It was to and from work. Only when you were out in public.”

“That doesn’t make it okay!” I finally shouted. None of what happened today was okay. Sean, my dad, the shootout. None of it was okay. “You don’t get to keep up with my fucking life when I have to pretend you’re dead!”

“Lower your voice.” Sean took a step forward.

“Fuck off!” I shouted even louder than before. “You don’t get to just come back and bark orders at me. This isn’t London, Sean!”

“Enough.” He took another step forward and I backed up, reaching for my wine glass.

He was so calm, so fucking collected while I was beginning to fall apart. I hated him for it. Fuck Sean Wallace, I wanted him to hurt the way I did. So, without thinking twice, I hurled my glass at him. Sean barely dodged it, whipping his head to the side as it soared past him and landed on the floor in a million little pieces.

He was a blur as he flew across the kitchen, growling as he slammed my back up against the wall. I cried out as searing pain sent shock waves down my back, but I was too angry to focus on it. My hands instantly went into fight mode and my fingers caught the tip of his nose as I swiped at him, but he pulled his head back, out of my reach.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” He roared in my face. “Are you bloody mental?” His hands circled my wrists and he pinned them at my sides, effectively halting my movements.

Stuck between Sean and the wall, I suddenly couldn’t breathe. “Let me go.”

“The fuck I will.” He squeezed my wrists harder.

“Sean.” I shoved myself against him and he did the same thing, his face even closer than before. I could smell the whiskey on his breath, see the smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. God, he was a sight. “Fuck. Off.”

His eyes zeroed in on my mouth as I enunciated the words, nostrils flaring slightly. My breasts were pressed against his chest and I couldn’t move even if I wanted to, because suddenly we were staring each other eye to eye and I couldn’t look anywhere else. I was drowning the way I always imagine I would except this time I didn’t want it. I wanted no part of it.

“Don’t even think about it.” I whispered softly.

“Or what?” Sean’s remark felt snide and childish, something I would have happily said to him had he not leaned down and slid his lips over mine. It was a light touch, so soft I barely felt it. But I still gasped because it was Sean’s lips touching mine and I hated that I liked it so much.

At the sound of my sharp intake of breath, he smirked. “I fucking knew it.” And then he smashed his lips against mine, not letting up on the grip he had on my wrists.

Sean’s tongue pushed past my lips and slid against mine, weakening my reserve just a bit. He tasted good, his scruff scratched against the edges of my mouth and I reveled in it, loving how rough he felt.

He fucking engulfed my mouth, taking complete control of the kiss and demanding that I give him more. Forgetting the position we were in, he let go of my wrists in favor of cupping my face, wide palms against my cheeks.

I should have pushed him away, should have told him to leave, but the simple truth was that Sean Wallace knew how to kiss. He kissed like a man, held my face, stroked rough thumbs over my cheekbones, and swallowed my moans. He crowded me, stood so close our torsos were touching while we made out against the kitchen wall. Our tongues touched, teeth clashed, and when I sucked Sean’s bottom lip into my mouth the groan he let out was guttural. Animalistic.

But the noise was enough to bring me back to reality and I shoved my hands against his chest, pushing him away from me as hard as I could.

Sean stumbled back and caught himself on the counter. He was just as caught up as I was, his eyes wild, cheeks flushed red.

“You’ve got some nerve.” I cleared my throat and wiped my mouth, still tasting him on my tongue.

“Me?” He had the audacity to smile, still clearly fired up. “You were the one sucking my lip like it was my cock.”

My cheeks felt hot. The way he said cock with the accent and the smirk… it murdered me on the inside. It absolutely killed me how good it sounded. “You wish.”

“Every fucking night.” Sean stepped forward again. “I think about you sucking my cock every. Fucking. Night.”

His admission left me breathless. It felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me. The thought of Sean laying in bed at night and thinking about my mouth wrapped around his dick lit me up. I was hot everywhere.

“Sean-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He crowded me again, this time wrapping one arm around my back and pulling me against him. “For once in your life, please, Y/N, shut the fuck up.”

Cupping the back of my head, Sean kissed me again. I wanted to fight him, wanted to tell him to fuck off, but that would only prove him right. I really did have a problem with shutting the fuck up.

So, I kissed him back. I gave it my all, twining my arms around his neck and leaning against him. Sean tongue fucked my mouth as though he’d been dying to for years, and after his admission I wondered if he had. His body felt warm against mine and feeling his fingertips glide along the exposed area of my lower back made my knees nearly buckle.

He smiled against my mouth and before I knew it, Sean was sliding both hands down, gripping my hips and hoisting me in the air. My legs locked around his waist instantly, ankles crossing at the small of his back while he carried me through the kitchen.

Our mouths never stopped touching. I’d been waiting years to kiss Sean. I’d been waiting years to slap the fuck out of him as well, but right now the only thing I cared about was keeping our mouths fused together for as long as humanly possible. I felt drunk on him, on the taste of whiskey on his tongue.

I didn’t realize we were in the living room until Sean sat down on the couch with me straddling his lap. I took the opportunity to pull back slightly, his lips chasing my own, and I smiled at the way he leaned forward. I cupped the right side of his face, loving the way his scruff felt against my soft palm. He truly was beautiful, the red-brown hair and beard, the plump mouth that spent more time scowling than smiling. His freckles, God, when we were young I could have spent hours counting them.

And then there was that scar. That brutal, obvious scar. The trauma his body must have gone through made me sick and when I reached up to run my fingers over the jagged, raised skin, Sean was quick to grab my wrist in a bruising grip.

“Don’t touch me there.”

But I wanted to. So badly. But it was clear in his reaction, in the stiffness of his body, that he was serious. Of all the limits Sean DIDN’T have, touching the left side of his face was one of them and I had no choice but to respect it.

“Fine, how about you touch me then?”

It was all the incentive Sean needed and he flipped me onto my back, hovering over me with one hand braces on the back of the couch. Our eyes held as I slid my hands down his chest, his heartbeat pulsing under my hand as I slid lower, lower still until I gripped the hem of his shirt and yanked it up. He leaned back, only for a moment to rip the shirt off his head and send it flying.

Fair skinned with broad shoulders and a tapered waist, I itched to lick the V that disappeared into his waistband. He may have been injured, but he hasn’t been resting this last year. Sean didn’t have the body of a man who rested, he had the Jody of a man who was constantly pushing himself. He was strong in every sense of the word and it made me pathetically, desperately wet for him.

“Your turn,” he said against my lips, fingers playing under my shirt and sliding along my ribs. “You’re so fucking soft.” He whispered against the skin of my cheek.

Unable to help myself, I reached down to cup him through his sweats. Jesus… Christ. “You’re so fucking not.”

Sean laughed then, but I was dead serious. Either Sean was hiding a gun in his pants or his cock was just that fucking solid. And… thick. Even through his pants I could tell. I squeezed once and he let out a guttural groan, the sound sending shock waves between my legs. I wanted that sound on a loop for the rest of my life.

He pushed my shirt up and over my head, eyes zeroing in on my breasts. “Fuck me…” He trailed off, cupping one in his hand and giving a firm squeeze as he settled his eight between my legs. I could feel him against my clit even with barriers of clothing separating us.

“I always wondered what your nipples looked like.” He licked one gently and my back arched hard, my whole body tightening. “They’re so much better than my imagination.”

Sean fastened his mouth against my nipple and he sucked, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bud while I writhed underneath him. My nails scraped through his shirt hair, digging into his scalp and holding him against me. He said he had wondered what they would look like, but I spent the better part of a decade wondering what this would feel like.

Fuck, it felt good.

Sean’s hips ground against mine as he moved to my other nipple, hands roaming felt over my body, gripping my clothes thighs and sliding up my sides. Tracing along my collarbone, fingers tugging at the nipple that wasn’t getting any attention.

I felt like a horny teenager, aching to have him inside me as fast as humanly possible. My nails raked over his shoulders and he gave a delicious growl in return, leaning up and hovering over me again.

“I’ve thought about your mouth on my cock for ages, but right now the only thing I want is to be buried inside you. That okay?”

I was modding before he even finished speaking. Fuck a blowjob, fuck foreplay. I didn’t need that with Sean, not now. Right now I just needed… connection. I was almost desperate for it and it fucking terrified me.

Sean leaned back on his knees and hooked his fingers into my pants, tugging them down in one swift move and leaving me completely naked and sprawled out in front of him. His eyes raked over me and my breath hitched in my throat. He could see… everything.

“Fuck me… this body was fucking made for me.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, wiggling my brows. “A bit cocky, yeah?”

“No.” His face was serious, eyes focused as they raked over my breasts, my hips, my legs, zeroing in on the spot between my thighs. Sean slid one long, thick finger over my slit and I cried out, my body stiffening. “I knew you’d be bald here.” He repeated the motion. “Been dying to see that tattoo on your thigh for ages.”

I’d gotten the tattoo when I was 20 and officially moved out of my parents house. It was one of those stupid young decisions, but I didn’t regret it. It was a snake that wrapped all the way around my right thigh, the snake’s tongue permanently engraved on my inner thigh like an invitation. Or a warning.

“And?” I asked inquisitively, rubbing a hand absentmindedly down my stomach.

“And I think this body was fucking made for me.”

His lips came crashing down on mine again and I wrapped my bare legs around his waist, loving the way his hip bones pressed into my thighs. He littered kisses over my cheekbone, an oddly sweet gesture, and then absolutely assaulted my neck, licking and biting and nipping at my collarbone until I cried out.

I reached down, yanking at his sweats and pushing them down his thighs with my heels. I was fucking dying for Sean Wallace to be inside of me, I couldn’t even breathe because I wanted him so badly. Needed him, needed to know what it was like to feel him.

“Sean.” I gasped as he braced one hand above my head, the other one gripping his cock and lining it up at my entrance. I gripped his bicep when he pushed the tip in, my nails digging half crescents into his skin.

“Sean.” I repeated his name, this time somewhat panicked because what the fuck was I doing? Was I really about to fuck him?

“Remember when I told you to shut the fuck up?” Sean’s eyes met mine and he gave one sharp, hard thrust and was suddenly inside me so deep I swore I could feel him in my cervix.

I didn’t even have time to gasp, my mouth fell open in a silent scream and Sean’s groan was something I’d think about for months. He was so deep I felt as though I couldn’t breathe, looking up at him completely frozen.

“Oh, fuck.” He finally breathed out. “That’s right, so good you can’t even speak.”

“I… hate you.” I finally managed, leaning up and catching his bottom lip between my teeth, tugging so hard he let out a groan of pain.

“You don’t hate me.” Sean pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back inside me, giving me no warning or time to breathe. But the yelp I let out was enough to make him smirk.

Cocky bastard.

Fine, I could play. Tightening my legs around his waist, I raked my nails down his back and watched his face change, jaw clenching tight. I licked his collarbone before sucking the skin there. I sucked hard and didn’t stop until I felt his fingers tangle in my hair and yank me back, forcing me to look at him.

“You’re not the fucking boss right now.” He practically growled the words, not letting up on the grip on my hair. He pumped in and out of me, my scalp pricking with a weird, pleasurable pain that left me moaning for more.

Sean’s thrusts got harder and I cried out when he hit that spot, so deep I could feel him everywhere. “Sean!” I cried his name, my breath hitching in my throat.

He let my hair go in favor of those perfect ducking fingers wrapping around my throat. His thumb pressed firmly under my jaw, I had no other choice but to look at him as he fucked me into oblivion.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He groaned, pressure on my throat tightening just a bit. “Thought about you every fucking day.”

I was instantly thrown back into reality. Everything that happened that day. The shooting. Sean coming back from the dead, all of it.

“Nope, stay with me.” Sean commanded, sensing my disconnect. He slowed his thrusts leaning down to lick at my lips lightly. It was oddly erotic and I found myself whimpering for more. “That’s it, relax for me.”

“I…” I started desperately. “I can’t. Sean-“

He squeezed my throat harder and I suddenly gasped, my air being cut off. “Relax.” His voice was oddly soothing. “You can still breathe.”

I shook my head.

He paused his thrusts, once again settling deep inside me with my legs splayed. “Yes, you can. I’m not squeezing that hard. Breathe.”

I took in a breath. It was shallow, but it was there. Letting it out slowly, I repeated the motion, Sean catching on and thrusting every time I exhaled. It all felt different like this, barely able to breathe and dripping wet onto the couch. I’d never wanted someone more and I was terrified, I’d never been “handled” the way he was handling me, treating me like I was his.

“Been waiting years to feel you come on my cock.” He groaned when he released my throat, leaning back on his heels and looking down at where we were connected. “God, you’re soaked. Made a proper mess all over me.”

I moaned because at that point words were not possible. My stomach felt tight, I felt like I was going to cry or laugh or scream. I felt like I was going crazy.

And then Sean rubbed his thumb over my clit, watching me jerk, and I knew I was done for. He did it again and again, giving me shallow strokes while he rubbed the little bundle of nerves that were certainly going to send me into a tailspin.

“Sean, please.” My back arched and I shouted, so fucking close, teetering on the edge.

“Come all over my cock so I can watch you lick it off after.”

My mouth fell open and I screamed his name, my orgasm hitting me like a ton of bricks. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling Sean lean over me and wrap an arm around my back.

He picked up the pace while I clung to him, whispering in my ear about how he’d wanted it forever, how this was his, how I was his. It was overwhelming, yet I couldn’t bring myself to do anything other than rake my nails through his hair and whisper his name over and over again in his ear.

“Fuck.” Sean’s groan was long and low, stroking into me one, two, three more times before holding himself still, his climax hitting him as hard as mine hit me.

His arms shook as he held himself over me, eventually collapsing onto my chest in a huff. We sat there silently, the sound of the waves crashing against the cliff side lulling us. Sean’s right cheek was pressed against my breast and his dick was still inside me. He was as close as he could possibly be but I somehow wanted him closer. I wanted to fucking absorb him into my body, keep him there forever and enjoy the weight of him on me.

“Sean?” I whispered, wondering if he was still awake.

“Hm?”

I ran my fingers lightly over the back of his neck and delighted in his shiver. “I’m really glad you’re not dead.”

He lifted his head then, searching my face for some sort of emotion, but I forced myself to remain stoic. It took Sean fucking my brains out for me to realize how much I missed him. How much I fucking loved him. But I couldn’t tell him that, I couldn’t give him that much power over me.

“Today was the first time in a year that I was thankful that bullet didn’t kill me.” Sean’s words were honest, quiet.

We didn’t say anything after that, we didn’t really need to. In that moment we were safe, together after years of being apart, and now all we had to do was wait for word from my father. Until then, I was going to enjoy whatever time I had with Sean and I prayed I would never have to pretend he was dead again.

#joe cole #sean wallace #gangs of london #gol #smut #fic

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wincore · 4 years

Text

wasted nights | liu yangyang

pairing: yangyang x reader

words: 5.5k

summary: firstly, you don’t think you should have survived this long. secondly, this might be the zombie apocalypse but your survival doesn’t feel as threatened by zombies as it does by liu yangyang. thirdly, you’ve chosen the worst time to develop a crush.

genre: zombie apocalypse!au, fluff, humour(?)

warnings: mention of injuries & blood, violence (against zombies), dumbassery, do not attempt during an actual zombie apocalypse

song rec(s): wasted nights - one ok rock

a/n: october birthdays get halloween specials~ although this one is just full of unnecessary appearances by cats. also campfires because october campfires hit different. (i’m definitely saying this because i was born in october) also not me writing this as a joke and reaching 5.5k words </3

It’s two hours till sundown.

What would you be doing on a day within the ordinary? Likely getting back from after school activities, chatting with a friend or feeding the stray kittens by the school building, or maybe pretending Liu Yangyang doesn’t exist—the possibilities were endless. Now there’s only one.

“Yangyang,” you call, more worried than not.

On a day out of the ordinary, you wish you hadn’t prayed for your exam to get cancelled the day all of this broke out. You wouldn’t be scavenging like some sort of rodent and you wouldn’t be standing at the gates of an abandoned shrine, though now is undoubtedly a better time to pray. It’s not the best of situations (especially not with a certain little rascal attached to your side).

And understatements are definitely your thing now.

“Yangyang,” you call a little louder this time, eyes shifting around the shrine area.

Should you step in? He asked you to wait, the stone steps now looking a little glum without him skipping over them. The only signs of life you’ve seen around has been a family of raccoons looking rather smug and a single spotted dove preening itself atop a branch. The lack of visibility into the forest surrounding the shrine bothers you, like something could jump out any minute and you suck your teeth, growing annoyed. Where is that boy?

You tap your foot against the ground soundlessly. What if a zombie were to pop out? They might be slow but the sight of them is still gross enough to paralyze you. Yangyang has his baseball bat with him, which leaves you defenseless in terms of weapons. Still, it’s not like the bat would have done you any good. You are, in the truest sense of the word, average at any sort of combat and freezing at the limbs comes to you more naturally. Zombies are not fun; whatever nonsense Yangyang has been trying to explain to you for weeks is optional, as is every other suggestion that comes from his mouth. It’s quiet and quiet, creepy shrines have never been your favourite place in the city.

You hear a low growl behind you, stiffening at the sound. Best case scenario, it’s a big rat. You’d rather not think of the worst case. Eventually, you gather some courage and turn slowly only to jump back with a short scream.

Yangyang takes the old festival mask off to reveal a giant grin on his face, urging you to knock it right off. The anger that follows is natural and he should be used to it by now. Yangyang continues smiling, as if he didn’t just pull your soul right out of your body, and when he opens his mouth to say something, you’re quick to land a swift punch to his gut. He lets out a pained cry, dropping to the ground in a squat.

“Don’t do that,” you seethe. “Why can’t you greet me normally?”

“I’m okay!” He signals a thumbs up while the other hand clutches his stomach.

“I didn’t ask.”

He moves his hand to place it over his chest. “Ow. Oh, and to answer your question, it’s because you don’t want to do my special handshake with me.”

“Hm. Get up. You said there were supplies here. What did you find?”

He pouts, finally getting up. “I can’t believe you’re just using me for supplies.”

You cross your arms. “Just get up already.”

Yangyang springs up despite the (admittedly) strong blow to his stomach and presents to you the plastic bag he’d been holding. In any other circumstances, it would spark some disapproval on your behalf but it turns out, those things do outlive most everything. For a moment, the ridiculous image of pulling a plastic bag over a zombie’s head crosses your mind.

Yangyang finally responds, taking out whatever items he recovered. Not everything is useful however; he’s simply taken to collecting knick-knacks.

“I found toothbrushes! Maybe your breath will stop stinking—”

You raise your clenched fist as a threat.

“—I was kidding. Obviously. You have lovely breath.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in an attempt to contain your exasperation.

“Also, I found clean water so I filled up some bottles and yeah, I couldn’t find much else but oh! There was this huge cat and I mean huge like a big chonk kinda guy, you know? And I’m sure he was, like, trying to tell me something, like, he kept hissing when I went near him but…”

You wonder if Yangyang ever gets tired from speaking so fast, his words fading out of your comprehension. You shake your head, clearing your throat.

“Can we leave now?”

Yangyang raises an eyebrow, almost smirking as the gears in his head turn.

“You’re not… superstitious, are you?” he asks. “I heard there’s a lot of reported sightings of ghosts here.”

“No,” you blurt, quick to deny. Yangyang might have seen you crying after getting lost in the dark, almost fainting after encountering a zombie for the first time or even in deep sorrow after you lost your friend—but there’s still part of your dignity to protect before you can admit your fear of ghosts. There’s just something about this abandoned shrine; there are no visitors apart from the caretaker and if loneliness is responsible for anything, it’s making lonely things seem a whole lot scarier. You’d rather leave before the sun sets.

Yangyang laughs. “Who do you think would win in a fight? Zombies or ghosts?”

You roll your eyes. “That’s so stupid. Obviously ghosts.”

“No. Okay, maybe. I just think…”

There he goes again.

You wonder if he was always this way—when you passed him by in the hallways, when he shot you a polite smile at club meetings or when you saw him being loud with his friends blocking part of the sidewalk. You’re sure he couldn’t have been entirely sane.

“Oh my god.”

Yangyang’s voice jerks you back to the present. You follow his line of sight to a cardboard box beneath a particularly dense shrub; it's a large one—quite possibly a carton of some commercial product which doesn’t matter anymore. However, it’s not the details of the box itself so much as it is the contents that grab your attention.

You can almost see the sparkle in Yangyang’s eyes as he views the cats huddled together inside the box. They don’t seem to mind each other within their personal space—you count four of them, tightly packed and eyes closed in a late afternoon nap. How the box hasn’t ripped apart yet is quite a mystery, and what’s more troubling is how at ease they seem to be with the entire human race in disarray.

You grab Yangyang by the collar before he can make his way to them.

“Don’t harass them,” you say, massaging your temples. “Jesus, it’s like they’re glued to each other. Do they have to be in the same box?”

“It might just be the last cardboard box left on earth.” Yangyang shrugs.

The cats mind their own business, grooming their fur or closing their eyes in an odd sort of bliss. You wonder what it would be like to be so unbothered by all the chaos. It reminds you of someone.

“Come on,” you urge, thinking back to older times. “Don’t think I forgot how much you used to bother old Louis back then.”

Louis was the university cat, fed with so much love that he eventually started avoiding people like the plague. You wonder how he’s holding up for a brief moment.

“Don’t think I forgot how you were back then too.”

“What do you mean?” you snap, glaring at him.

“You were already a zombie,” he says before engaging in a cheap mimicry of you, drooping his eyelids and taking slow steps muttering, “I… must… maintain… gpa… grr.”

You almost take off your shoe to throw it at him before deciding it’s not worth your time. Ah, if only you had done that during club meetups, perhaps you’d have felt better about him joining. Everyone treated him so differently, and you hate to admit you now understand why.

Everyone loves a good troublemaker.

And there happens to be another thing special about your sole competitor for the debate club’s president position. Apart from his strange antics (charms, he says), even this virus—this fuckall literal killer virus can’t infect him. He’s immune—an occurrence with a possibility lower than you finding him attractive. (There, you said it.)

You look at Yangyang still talking about Louis and a small smile crosses your face. You’d feed your right arm to a zombie before you admitted it but it’s nice having him around. You furrow your brows at the sudden familiar bubbling in your chest and shove it away in a flash before your conscious decides to tell you what it is.

Your heart jumps to your throat when you make eye contact with Yangyang, turning away in a rather awkward manner. Oh, the end of the world does awful things to you.

“Are you listening?” Yangyang raises an eyebrow. “Oh my god, you weren’t listening at all.”

You roll your eyes. “I was distracted.”

“By me?” he offers in a sing-song voice, prompting a smack from you. It’s easier to pretend this way.

Yangyang massages his shoulder with a huff. “Why are you hitting me so much today? I’ve counted like eight and the day’s only just over.”

“Sorry,” you mumble before clearing your throat. “I mean, you’ve also said something annoying, like, more than eight times today.”

“I’m not annoying.”

There’s a pause.

“Okay, maybe a little bit.”

The sun starts to lay in rest by the time you reach the city. Compared to the green, red and yellow of the yet standing shrine, this place is in dull monochrome with the occasional coloured signs that flicker to life. You force yourself to think but have a hard time remembering if it was always this way. Was it any different with the rushing cars or apathetic crowds? You can’t tell. You were part of them, after all.

“Hey, how about a bottle flip challenge but with traffic cones?” Yangyang thinks aloud, walking backwards as you pass by a particularly well-lit alley.

You roll your eyes in response. Is it the lack of people making him that way? Your unflustered companion looks at home among neon lights, all of them seeming to point towards him as an answer to a question you haven’t quite figured out yet.

You glance at the alley just a second longer. The electric lanterns still glow red, and although dim, there are many. The shops almost look like you could enter and be greeted with a crowd of university kids or a group of office workers drinking away in celebration of the weekend. You sigh. It’s most certainly deserted inside; there’s no doubt. At the most, the tables are still arranged neatly and the meat grills aren’t completely rusted. You wonder if it’s a Friday.

There was never much grass in the city but whatever growth there was has withered into a mustard yellow or a lamenting grey. An empty city is hardly appealing, but you can’t deny the ill-favored things you’ve done the past few months in the absence of people—a part of you questioning whether breaking into supermarkets is still against the law when no one’s around to keep it. You smile at the memory of Yangyang pushing you around in a shopping cart, though you’d gotten drunk off the (stolen) liquor prior. The neon lights hanging as a banner over sketchy shops sometimes spark alive before dying down over and over again, and to be fair, you don’t think they ever shined too bright. Ironically, they’re the liveliest thing about the city now.

The sky’s soaked in ink at a time you assume to be around seven in the evening. You walk closer to Yangyang without realizing; it’s not often you’ve been out this late the past few months.

“Hey.” Yangyang snaps you out of your daze. “Be careful.”

The words are strange coming from him but you understand why. You look up ahead with caution and a shiver runs down your spine as you stare at the intersection, a lone, tattered figure droning aimlessly. It’s only one, you tell yourself. And they’re slow.

The memories of your previous encounters send warnings over your skin, shivers begging you to run as fast as you can. You would if it weren’t for Yangyang’s grip on your hand, tugging you forward gently and though it’s something he does every time, you wonder if he knows how you’re really feeling. His footsteps are soundless, with the same red sneakers he’s worn since the beginning of this but something tells you it’s not the shoes that give him a cat’s footfall. The purple lights flicker on and off over the shop on the opposite street, the suddenness of it making you latch onto Yangyang for a short-lived moment. You’re quick to let go, throat too dry to make any sound.

You curve around what would be a straight path, careful not to be in the creature’s line of sight when you cross. The streets seem wider when they’re so empty, and somehow it feels more unlawful this way. Yangyang signals to you to stay closer, and you follow before bumping into his back when he stops abruptly. There’s absolutely no sound, the feeling in your gut much worse than at the shrine.

“Something’s wrong,” Yangyang whispers.

A strangled shriek erupts from your mouth when something launches itself onto the two of you, making you land on your butt. You would’ve placed your hands over your eyes, but you’ve learned how to be less of a coward these past few days.

A shaky breath leaves you. A cat. It was a stray cat. The little asshole looks at you with almost twinkling eyes, tail swishing from side to side before deciding you’re not worth its time. Your shoulders sag, a moment of relief despite your stiff muscles.

“Uh, (name)?”

You look up only for your stomach to fill with dread. The zombie from before is staring directly at the two of you, the same vacant look in its eyes that has haunted you for the entirety of the apocalypse.

“It’s okay, he’s too slow,” Yangyang reminds you, voice barely a whisper as he helps you stand.

“We can just take the other street—it’s a little longer but it’s mostly safe and there’s no way he can—”

Yangyang is interrupted by a sickening growl from behind you and you jump back. There’s another one. And another. You count four more before holding back a swear. Yangyang grabs you by the shoulder and the two of you take a step back, onto the sidewalk. There’s a shop behind you; you read a smeared sign above the plastic door curtains indicating a dumpling place. Even if you were to hide in there, there’s no guarantee you’d be safe.

But if you’ve learned anything in these months, it’s that anything is always better than nothing.

The night has settled in completely, you realize. You’re about to tug Yangyang to the inside as you turn around, only to freeze up in your spot. A pale woman emerges from the store, her makeup still fresh but you know that look, the look in her eyes. How cruel.

“Please,” she mumbles, taking a step towards you and you think you might just cry. It’s not long before she turns, you think with dread.

You stumble back to Yangyang when she emits a blood curdling screech, lunging at you and to either your alarm or worse, relief, Yangyang pushes you back. You watch with wide eyes as the woman sinks her teeth into his arm, nausea growing at the sight of blood. He moves fast though, his arm swinging the baseball bat to meet the woman in the head, hard enough to knock her out. In these few moments, one of the zombies is close enough to reach an arm out towards you and you swear you can hear the horrid sound of his bones cracking when you step back. The longer you remain in this state, the slower you are. You suppose you should take comfort in these words but when you look at it, you still see a man.

Hollow. They’re all hollow.

You take a deep breath.

Just as the thought crosses your head, you see Yangyang swing his bat again, meeting the zombie on the head and much to your wide-eyed horror, the head flies off into the dumpling shop and the body reacts with just about as much confusion as you do. It wildly waves about its hands in the now vacant spot before crumpling onto the road with a quiet realization.

Yangyang makes a face, pressing his knuckle to his mouth to prevent himself from what you presume is gagging. However, when you look closely, he seems to be holding back a laugh instead and very painfully so. You know he has a habit of laughing at the most inappropriate times but this, it really takes the cake.

“Home run?” he suggests, turning to you with a sheepish half-grin. There’s no hint of malice in his voice and you think that it’s probably not that he enjoys swinging his baseball bat at zombies.

“You’re disgusting,” you reply, shaking your head.

“Maybe I should leave you here then.”

You can’t believe he has the gall to be cheeky with blood running down his arm and four of the undead drooling at the sight of you two.

“Do you think we can find ingredients that aren’t stale here? I miss having dumplings.”

“Yangyang.”

“Okay, okay.”

The other ones are still far enough and the two of you take this chance to run off towards the street Yangyang mentioned earlier and safely out of view. You notice him panting heavier than before, and your eyes scan over his arm in worry. The bite is ugly, red with oozing blood, and you hold back the urge to ask him if he’s anaemic.

Yangyang follows your eyes before an ‘ah’ leaves his lips. He spins his head to the right, trying to catch a glimpse of the wound in the same manner a dog chases after its own tail. He puts the bat down to try and twist his arm to see the injury but you stop him, clicking your tongue at his silly behaviour.

“You’re not twelve, Yangyang,” you scold. “Let’s get back to the hotel first.”

He shrugs, and you think some provoking words are ready to leave his mouth when he simply picks up his bat and walks off. You blink before quickening your steps to catch up with him. The blood dripping down his forearm makes you feel a little unwell but you know better than to touch infections.

It takes around fifteen minutes longer than usual to reach the hotel—Yangyang was right. It is safer here, with no zombies lurking around the corners. He must have been out late when he was scouting, you think with distaste.

You reach the now-rusting gates of your haven without trouble and the moment you reach, Yangyang falls to his knees, heaving a breath he seems to have been holding. You rush to him, eyes frantic when you reach your hand out to him, and he flinches, moving away from you.

“Don’t,” he mutters before getting up. “You turning into a real zombie would be my personal nightmare.”

It’s not enough to curb your worry but you follow him nonetheless, the stupid, wavering grin on his face making you unable to decipher what he’s really feeling.

The familiar smell of honeysuckle washes into you as you pass by the entrance, locking the door behind you as Yangyang falls onto one of the chairs in the lobby. Kunhang happened to be passing by, a muffled swear leaving him when he sees the blood on Yangyang’s arm.

“You didn’t touch him, did you?” he asks, pulling on his gloves to further see the wound. A former med student is the best you have here, and somehow, you’ve never seen him complain about having to take care of someone as bothersome as Yangyang.

You shake your head in reply to Kunhang and watch as he runs from shelf to shelf to procure more bandages than you’ve ever seen in your life. You’ve been seeing an awful lot lately.

“We’re going to run out of bandages in a week if he keeps this up,” Kunhang says with a frown, moving so fast you can barely see his hands. “He’ll be okay, I guess. The virus just makes him dizzy.”

He’s probably thinking the same thing you are. Something serious happening to Yangyang is a little bit of a miracle. Maybe he’ll finally be set right in the head.

Even so, you know Kunhang is worried despite his quick response, his frown lines deepening once he’s done wrapping up. He sighs before waltzing off to discard his gloves.

It’s not that you aren’t impressed by Kunhang; you’ve just seen him do that too many times to count. And of course, it’s mostly Yangyang on the receiving end. They might be good friends but this also happens to be the only time they're serious together. Moreover, Kunhang seems to beat Yangyang in the talking-for-twelve-hours-straight department. You have to admit though, being in charge of first aid for the few people stuck in this hotel is not an easy business.

You take a seat opposite to Yangyang, dozing off in his chair and wonder if you should wipe the drool off his chin. Disgusting, you think to yourself, but another part of you dares to offer the word cute.

The best thing about barricading yourself in a hotel during the apocalypse is not having to worry about beds. There’s at least five hundred rooms in this skyrise, more than enough for, what, sixteen people? The place is so big that you hardly run into the others. The only rule around here is regarding the pantry—to write down who’s taken what on the notepad stuck to one corner. Despite what movies show, people are far more helpful to each other in times of need, more so than usual even. You relax into the chair, the velvet cushion feeling comfortable against your back.

There’s a nice communal feeling in this place.

You frown. It’s not like you can stay here forever.

At the very least, you can pretend each sundown and sunrise is ordinary here. You close your eyes, and slowly, thoughts of why you’re trying so hard to remember life before this drift away.

Yangyang wakes up before you do, grinning like crazy as he shrugs you awake. You stare at him through groggy eyes, untangling your limbs from yourself. The cold seeps into you and you shiver, hugging yourself.

“We found the keys to the lounge,” he rushes, albeit in a gentle voice. “Guess what?”

“Unh?”

“There’s a campfire spot over there! The others already started but I thought I should wake you up.”

It’s just like him to be excited about something like that. You get up nevertheless, Yangyang pulling you through the stairs and onto the only elevator that seems to work around here. There’s quite a few things about this hotel left to be figured out. You’re going to have to start worrying anyway when the power from the generator runs out.

Kunhang and an older man, Mr Kang, are the only ones there once you reach. You had expected it but the lounge is gigantic and a small part of it provides the artificial campfire area. There are paintings of wild animals and trees for children, you assume, on the walls only cut off by a large vent on the ceiling. The fire burns bright over the large circle of soil and firewood, whose authenticity is debatable. You sigh at the warmth, having grown tired of the autumn weather’s mood swings.

Kunhang greets the two of you with a grin before delicately poking Mr Kang to at least acknowledge your presence. It’s funny, the lot of you.

The place is a little small, considering there’s a literal fire in the middle of the room. You almost sit on Yangyang because he shifts too suddenly at Mr Kang’s disapproval of proximity, a small yelp leaving you whereas Yangyang, for the first time, looks like he’d rather die. He mutters an apology, and two of you manage to sit a good two feet apart, sudden awkwardness rising in the air—all of it unnoticed by Mr Kang. You heard he was a banker but if Kunhang and Yangyang had a polar opposite, it would most certainly be him. You can’t even remember the man’s voice.

You think you should say something but Kunhang’s laughter breaks the silence. There’s an unspoken exchange between him and Yangyang, piquing your curiosity though you aren’t sure what you should be asking. You just assume it’s one of their stupid inside jokes.

“I left your gift on your table. You can add it to your dumb shoe collection,” Kunhang tells Yangyang, smiling before standing up to stretch. “I’m going to bed. Mr Kang, won’t you accompany me?”

Mr Kang gets up begrudgingly and you’re about to ask them to stay longer when Kunhang turns to you enthusiastically. “Good night, (name). Don’t have too much fun. Although, I suppose there’s no better time to have too much fun either.”

You watch with furrowed brows as the two disappear into the doorway and down the stairs. You spend a couple of moments in silence before clearing your throat. When it goes unnoticed, you turn to Yangyang despite the warmth on your face.

“It’s not dumb,” he mutters to himself, a little zoned out.

You stare at him for a few moments and the familiar feeling rises in your throat, now with a little voice to accompany it.

Cute.

You cough, distracting yourself with any and all thoughts you would rather have, even of the zombies. Now isn’t the time—or is it the perfect time? You shake your head, calming yourself.

“Does it… hurt?” You ask, eyeing Yangyang’s arm.

He looks up as if broken from a daze, the campfire lights still dazzling in his eyes. You hold back a laugh. He really is a child; if he’s so easily mesmerized by fires, that is.

“Probably not any worse than the lady I whack-a-mole’d. Now that must’ve hurt.” Yangyang puffs his cheek before looking straight at you.

You stare back. It’s not the weirdest thing he’s said.

“What? I feel bad beating the crap out of zombies sometimes,” he says, scratching the back of his head.

You hum in response. The thought of Yangyang developing a conscience is almost as bad as having to think about zombies. Though, you’ll have to admit, it does give you a strange relief. Zombies can’t really feel pain—they are, after all, numb in every possible sense—but some part of you wonders if it’s alright like this. Morals and survival aren’t meant to overlap.

You feel the need to distract yourself with something.

“Hey,” you call, moving closer to Yangyang such that your shoulders almost touch. Before you know it, you brush the hair from his face, trying to style the mess into something more neat—a thing you’ve been wanting to do since the first time you saw him. Every time you’d see the messy mop of hair at an official event of the debate club, you’d have this strong urge and an almost putrid form of annoyance. You still don’t know how he managed to get in.

“You don’t look terrible with parted hair,” you muse. “You could’ve looked more decent at the debates.”

You look down from his hair to see Yangyang frozen, eyes wide as if a deer in the headlights.

“Are- Are you not breathing?” you ask.

Yangyang sucks in a large chunk of air, fast enough to choke on it and break into a coughing fit as he turns away from you. You reach out to pat his back but he waves his hand at you, indicating he’s fine before he can turn to you.

You look at him with no particular emotion, the night breeze having worked its way to you.

“What was that about a gift? Are you and Kunhang getting things for each other without telling me?” you say, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

There's a short pause, filled with the crackling of fire.

“It’s my birthday,” Yangyang says with a small smile as the campfire lights dance across his cheeks.

And yet, the words come out sad as if he’d been waiting for an occasion to tell you. You look at him, eyes widening ever so slightly accompanied by the loss of words and take a sharp breath.

“I’m not going to ask for a gift,” Yangyang teases. “Don’t look so worried.”

You open your mouth and close it again, unable to explain the gentle wash of sadness overcome you when you see just a boy. For all the talking he does, he never asks for much.

“I mean, I- I liked spending the day with you. Why do you look so sad? Did I say something? Again?”

You look over his features, from his brow bone to his wide eyes to his lips and the conclusion arrives as gently as the end of the world. What’s the worst that could happen?

You quickly pull him into a hug, still careful of his injury, and a vaguely embarrassing sound escapes Yangyang, something akin to a sheep’s call. He clears his throat which turns into coughing before he can wrap his arms around you, his breathing soft against your shoulder.

“I’m- I’m alive, you know? I don’t think I’m dying any time soon. I- I can’t even get infected! You know that.”

“That’s not why I’m- I…” You pull back, steeling your eyes so you don’t feel the warmth of embarrassment.

Just like you prepare for debates, you think to yourself. Maybe Yangyang was right about you being a zombie—the way you follow the same drudging formula.

“I like you,” you say, your words more of a strained whisper but they’re out before you know it. You can fake confidence, you tell yourself. It’s horrible timing and spending your (potentially) last days with someone who rejected you is just another way to shoot yourself in the foot.

But part of you has been wanting to do this for so long that you almost don’t mind.

Yangyang sucks in a breath, pressing his knuckles to his mouth as he straightens.

“That was- Wow. Okay. I- Uh. Wow.”

You let the heat grow stronger in your cheeks, racking your head for an explanation or even a lie. Maybe you can say it was a mistake.

“I- I meant…” You lose track of your words. You can’t lie.

“I’ve never been confessed to,” he blurts, and if you squint, you swear you can see him blushing.

“Huh?”

Yangyang coughs again, followed by the same embarrassing sound. “That was- That was the first time.”

The silence between you is accompanied by the crackling of fire and the soft path-making of wind. You’re at a loss for words, something that you should be used to by now—they clearly belong to someone else.

“Oh my god, that was so stupid,” he says, pulling a horrified face as he frantically waves his hands about. “I meant to say I like you too but I- I guess I forgot to say it out loud. Ah, crap- I sound even stupider now, don’t I?”

Your lips twitch, trying to contain your smile but you’re seized with uncontrollable laughter anyway. The mortified expression on Yangyang’s face makes you burst into another fit of giggles before you can somewhat compose yourself.

“I think that’s the longest you’ve been quiet for,” you say in between recurring laughter. “Did anyone ever tell you being able to talk fast doesn’t get you ahead in debate clubs?”

Yangyang frowns.

“Oh, I just joined because I thought it’d get on your nerves,” he says, not a hint of jest in his voice.

You straighten away from him, the smile dropping from your face.

“You can’t be serious.”

He grins sheepishly, scratching the back of his head and offering no explanation. You huff in exasperation, getting up abruptly to avoid another oncoming headache. It’s a little difficult, considering you have the human version of it right beside you.

“Wait- Where are you going?” Yangyang scrambles up to his feet. “It’s my birthday, you know?”

You turn around and put your hands on your hips, a small smile on your face at the sight of him. “It’s midnight already.”

“Oh. How was I supposed to know?”

You laugh, shaking your head. Maybe the little rascal is special.

“Hey,” Yangyang calls. “You know, since this is the end of the world and all…”

You stare at him, heartbeat erratic at the lack of distance and despite the fading of teenage fantasies. Yangyang shifts nervously, glancing here and there while simultaneously trying to keep eye contact with you, an action which makes you hold back a chuckle. There’s a particular twinkle in his eyes but he can’t seem to be able to look at you straight.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, finally.

And what a daring end to the world it is.

#yangyang x reader #wayv x reader #cznnet #yangyang scenarios #wayv scenarios #yangyang imagines #wayv imagines #yangyang fluff #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #moonwrites #if you think the header is stupid thats bcs it is #graphic design is my passion <3 #you can pry the troublemaker x good kid trope out of my cold dead hands :)

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neonponders · 3 years

Text

👀 👀 👀 👀 Oh jesus oh lord. Deeper Than Skin is finished so I’ll enable another wip.

@ghostofjellyfishforgotten I hope you don’t mind me using your tags on this vampire!Billy / blood donor!Steve post as inspiration! Your brain is just too big for me not to pass up an opportunity to write vampire shenanigans.

Read on ao3 ~

🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹

Steve didn’t judge people who worked as donors—

Fine, as an adult with a better awareness and compassion, Steve didn’t judge donors. He might’ve said some shitty things to Jonathan Byers when he worked to make his family extra money.

Honestly? Steve admired that. Jonathan being underage and having the guts to figure out how to get into the donation clinic, and then to let…

Steve knew he was a coward in a lot of ways. He knew it when he called Jonathan a queer who enjoyed leeches sucking on him. He knew it when he lost to the punches Byers threw. For a skinny, half empty blood bag, the guy could really hit. And Steve knew it when he almost ran away from Nancy and Jonathan fighting off the rogue vampire who kidnapped little Will Byers.

But Steve didn’t run away.

Just like he didn’t run away from the couch he sat on with his mother while his father explained…a situation that left Steve digging deeper and deeper into the gap between fear and bravery. Maybe call it disassociation. Or confused shock.

“You what?”

Harrington senior never took well to being interrupted. But he sighed from across the coffee table and reiterated, “The family is in debt.”

“No. You. You’re in debt. This is your problem.”

The man certainly didn’t take well to having his own mistakes shoved under his nose. “This isn’t for debate. This is the way things are and need to be.”

“No,” Steve repeated like a broken record clinging onto its song. “This is your fault. Who’s made me work minimum wage jobs to teach me a lesson? Who’s refused to pay for me to go to community college? Who hasn’t let me work in their company? And who made the shitty gambles with your company’s stocks? You shoved me out, so it’s definitely not my problem—”

“The contract has already been signed.”

Now his mother shifted her posture on the couch beside him. “Excuse me?”

Steve’s father moved his blunt nails over the armrest of his wingback, fidgeting. At least something put fear into the old bastard’s heart.

“There’s nothing I could do. The market has been evolving ever since vampires gained their rights and opened up their decades and centuries old bonds—”

“Vampire legislation passed over a century ago,” Mrs. Harrington purred. Sometimes the worst anger was the quiet kind. “You have no excuse. You lost the game, and you sold our son. Is that what we’re to believe?”

“That’s not possible,” Steve intercepted. “Slavery isn’t a thing anymore. Even I picked that up in history. And I would have to be there to sign the contract! It’s my—”

“Steve,” his father silenced. “When enough money is involved, anything is bought. And you’re not like anyone else.”

Mrs. Harrington fumed, “Do not talk to him like he’s a prize pony!”

“Except to a wealthy vampire, he is.”

Steve could only sit in weighted silence for a moment. He always joked to himself that he’d be disowned one of these days. For being a disappointment. For all of his bad grades. For giving his friends alcohol and cigarettes. For only being able to get jobs that required no qualifications or experience level at all. For discovering he liked kissing boys at the grimy music venues Robin took him to. Maybe living at home for too long. Or leaving the smell of burnt pancakes in the air too often because he always struggled with the first one—

“Vampire?” he croaked. For some reason it hadn’t dawned to him until now but…shit.

Holy shit.

Steve wasn’t being sold off to be some billionaire’s secretary for life. He was being…truly sold. Like…goodbye, Steve, who likes spring nights and summer mornings. His favorite food is breakfast and he wishes he kept with the music lessons his mom paid for instead of being peer pressured into sports. Whose best friend was Robin Buckley because she was brave and funny and stuck with him during his ironic and a little bit terrifying queer awakening…

Hello, Donor 0235. Blood type O. Allergic to nickel and checks off all vaccination requirements.

“Steve’s not wrong,” his mother echoed like a voice deep in a cave, drawing Steve out of his thoughts. “He is the one to sign the contract. Not you.”

“He is still classified as our dependent and on our insurance,” his father refused.

“So being an adult means nothing in this country?”

“They have our family records, Annette!” he exclaimed. “There is a dual government in this country even if nobody below upper-middle class sees it. The human government had to cede a great deal because the vampire population is massive. And they’ve kept track of all the Sanguis families! Name changes, and two World Wars did nothing to save us—”

“The what?” Steve all but whispered.

His mother rotated her hips to face him. “We only have legends about how it happened. Paleolithic gods making deals, vampires crossbreeding humans to make a certain kind of blood donor, human evolution after symbiotic deals were struck—but that doesn’t matter. The point is that there are people in this world with abilities that preserve themselves against vampires. That’s why you healed in less than two days after that silly fight by the movie theatre.”

His father intercepted, “The genes skipped your mother but fell to you.”

Steve’s eyes widened as his mother confirmed, “To protect us, girls have been promoted in the family tree for generations. Through marriage, their names could change, and make them harder to track.”

Steve countered toward his father, “So this really isn’t your place to sign my life away. Like five times over.”

“I quite agree,” his mother turned back to the man she’d married. The man who was supposed to protect her and her children with his name and promising, growing business.

At least Steve wasn’t the only failure in the family.

His father massaged his forehead and defended, “As I said. Humans’ government is far easier to corrupt our way into forgiving any debt. The vampires, however, are inconsolable. The bastard would have my business, the cars, our house, and taken his time discovering Steve on his own if I hadn’t—”

Steve took after his father, but he was his mother’s son as they both stood up from the couch, furious that this man had thrown his own kid under a vampire’s bus—

“Get out of the house, Steve.”

His head whipped around at her. “I-What?”

“Get out of the house,” she seethed, but not at him. “I don’t care where or what you do. Go.”

Steve didn’t need to be told twice but he hadn’t managed to grab his car keys or his shoes before the house and his ribcage trembled with his parents’ arguing. He went in his socks outside and put the shoes on in his car.

Then…he didn’t know where to go. Running the hell away seemed like the obvious solution, but if vampires really had such a network, what was the point? And if he left, what would happen to his mom?

Steve drove on autopilot to the video rental store. Robin. All he had was Robin, who took the lollipop out of her mouth when the bell on the door twittered. “Hey, dingus, it’s your day off—Steve?”

He couldn’t really remember driving. That probably should have raised more red flags than he already had, but for now, the black and neon carpeting of the Family Video was blurring and swirling…

“I’m gonna throw up,” he heard himself say.

And Robin in that distant, echoing cave his mother had spoken from, “Outside! STEVE!”

#harringrove #vampire!billy #blood donor!steve #sanguis #neonponders #pondermoniums #ghostofjellyfishforgotten

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rrickgrrimes8 · 3 years

Note

Can I get rick grimes x gender neutral reader

The reader was an elite solider in the U.S army when the virus happened. They been traveling the South for five ½ years alone. So now they landed in Georgia when the Saviors and Rick Group are at war. One day Rick is attacked by the Saviors, but the reader saves Rick from the Saviors with a rifle but escapes before Rick ever notices. Days later the reader meets Rick (like how Jesus met Rick.) But Rick captures the reader and interrogates him. In the end Reader reveals how he saved Rick. Rick then forces the reader work/live with the group even though the real.

A Soldier ~ Rick Grimes imagine

hey sorry for the delay ive been super busy coz i just started school back after isolating and i’ve been doing exams all week

also for anyone else who requested i’ll try and complete them soon really sorry please remember i haven’t forgotten about yall i’m just busy

anyways @iawaythrown hope you like this thank you for requesting

let me know if there’s any mistakes so i can fix it thank you x

masterlist

request guidelines

request are open

The sun had set hours earlier but that didn’t stop you. Unrelenting you continued through the heat and the exhaustion. You couldn’t stop. Not now. Not after everything you had gone through. Even before this, you wouldn’t allow yourself to stop. Being one of America’s pride and joys serving as a respected sergeant. You had served 10 years before the world went to shit and it made you laugh now. You always thought that the meaning of your life - the purpose - was to protect and serve against threats to the U.S.A. If only you knew that your greatest threat was against the dead now living. You were grateful, more than anything. You had a lot more in this world than others did. And now 5 1/2 years later you were still going. Never stopping. Not for anything.

Except... when you caught wind of a certain curly-haired man. He was being attacked and was substantially outmanned. You thought the best use of your time was to protect people just like you had in your previous life. The man was cornered now by the time you’d made the decision to help him. Three men dressed in leather charged him with any weapon they could find. He fought against them - to the best of his ability. Which seemed to be skilled at least. You gripped your trusty rifle, aimed the scope and without hesitation fired.

One man fell.

Then the next.

And then the last.

The blue-eyed man scoured the area for you, curious about the location of the shots. You, however, were smarter than that. You didn’t know this man. You didn’t know if he deserved what those men would’ve done to him but you did know trust is to be earned in this world not given carelessly. You ducked away out of his vision. But you never strayed far from the man.

You could say curiosity got the better of you. Naturally and from a very young age, you’d always pester, investigate, fight for answers when they really weren’t warranted. Your mom used to tell you how curiosity killed the cat but you preferred to say it saved the cat. Being curious never hurt anyone and it certainly came as an advantage to you. When meeting people you knew how to hide, how to watch. And yes it may be creepy but it was necessary. You weren’t stupid, far from it, so why stop your ways now?

The man didn’t return back to a camp after the attack - one that you knew he had due to his clean and well-presented appearance. He continued through the area, meeting up with a tall brooding man accompanied with a crossbow. The two seemed close. Although despite how few words conversed between them, you knew they were. If either of them fell into some trouble the other protected. They were family - maybe not blood - but no doubt in your mind we’re they like brothers.

It had been days now and these men were still on their run. By this time you were even doubting if this was worth it but you shook off the thoughts and continued. It wasn’t your intention to draw attention to yourself. Hell, it was something you were taught against. But it happened. You, rather carelessly, stumbled across them. It all happened so fast. You saw someone in the woods - walker maybe. But at that moment you decided against your inner workings and ran. Stupidly you ran straight into this man.

“Watch it,” He growled pushing you back slightly. They glared at you threateningly, guns were drawn.

“Wha’ ta hell ya doin’?” The crossbowman snapped. His deep southern accent growing darker through his words. He was on edge. It being clear that interactions like this hadn’t always been a blessing.

“Was just passing through. Calm yourself, alrigh’?”

Unimpressed he looked to the blue-eyed man who was fixed on your stance. “You looked in a hurry. Trouble heading this way?” The man inquired warily.

“Nah not really,” You paused looking back to the area, “Well maybe I'm not sure.”

“Not sure? What's back there?” He looked at you suspiciously hand still grasped around his colt python. You didn't say anything to them as a sound overcame the atmosphere. It sounded like a twig, perhaps just a wondering dead but they didn't see the rational side. "Who are you? Who are you with?" The blue-eyed man barked edging the pistol closer to your face.

"Hey, chill man. My names y/n, alright? And I'm not with anyone. I'm on my own, okay?" The men shared a look before turning back to you unbelievingly. You opened your mouth to justify your case but was interrupted by a smack to the side of your head. You fell to the ground, gazing at the two men still.

And then... nothing.

Hours later your eyes snapped open. Alert, you searched through the room. It was a cell. A traditional one with an iron gate. One you knew from past experience weren't the easiest to break out of. Especially after spotting a man floating around the exit. "Hello?" Your head burned as you spoke likely due to a concussion but you powered through it. The man stopped pacing and glared at you. He was a dark-skinned man, holding what looked like a stick. But the main thing was that he was clean. You had noticed earlier how the two men didn't look as ragged and dirty as you did. Telling you they had a home. Now seeing him proved it.

"Hello," He said back, "Names Morgan, yours?" Your rational side shut your mouth for you. You didn't know these people. Hell, they kidnapped you. They didn't deserve your name. And you resented how you caved earlier and told those people. "Not much of a speaker, huh?" Again silence, "You didn't have to be afraid of me. I won't hurt you."

Begrudgingly you responded, "I'm not afraid of you." "Your not?" "No, I'm not. Not of you. Not of those men who brought me here. Not of anyone," Morgan almost laughed at your response.

"You're quite brave, aren’t you?" You shrugged etching a smile on his face, "you'll fit right in here."

"Who says I want to stay?" You countered. "I have a feeling," He smirked before another person entered the room.

"They awake?" Morgan nodded and exited.

The blue-eyed man from earlier entered your view. No words were exchanged between the two of you. You understood he still perceived you as a threat, which you knew you very well could be. You'd do what you have to. That's what you told yourself. After years of service to the army that swam around your mind like a mantra. You'd done some horrific things for your country now and before but you didn't let it rot you to the core like your comrades. You did what you had to. There was never an exception. So if these people decided to try something you'd do what you have to.

"Who are you?" He interrogated swiftly. Telling you that this wasn't his first rodeo. He was a cop or maybe even in the army like you.

"I already told you," Coldly you returned.

"Yeah well, I don't believe you," He persisted.

"I don't entirely know what you want me to do with that," you scoffed, "I can't force you to believe me. But I know my name. I know I'm alone. I know I don't mean to bring harm to your people unless I have to."

The man grunted. He hated how he began to believe you slightly. "Why were you running then?"

You sighed, "I was following you."

"You were following us?" He growled, "Why?"

"You were attacked. Those men I killed them," You revealed, "I was curious. So I followed you. I saw a walker or maybe it was a person... I don't know. I ran and bumped into you. That's all. I have no ulterior motive."

"Just because you tell me you have no ulterior motive doesn't make me inclined to believe you," He let out a harsh breath.

"What more do you want, huh? Want me to do a polygraph?"

He chuckled, "No. Of course not. But I don't trust you."

"So let me go," You promoted.

"I can't do that," he shook his head erratically.

"Why not?"

"You're valuable. If what you say is true that you did save me. Then I... we can't let that go, alright?"

You gaped at his confession, "So you're gonna force me to stay here?"

"Not exactly... we'd prefer if you did from your own will but if we have to," He quirked his eyebrow at you, "What do you say?"

Sarcastically you laughed at his proposition, "You're crazy."

"No, I'm Rick. Rick Grimes. And this," Rick gestured to your surroundings, "is Alexandria. Hopefully your new home."

"How do you know I'm not gonna kill you all in your sleep?" You furrowed your eyebrows at his naivety.

"I have faith that you won't. I searched you when you were out," He went into his pocket pulling out a medal you had gotten for serving in Iraq, "A soldier? I was a sheriffs deputy myself and I know I wouldn't have it in me to kill all the people in here - the children. I know you wouldn't either."

"You're right I wouldn't but... but we're not the same, Rick. We never will be," Rick tilted his head.

"I know," He spoke honestly, "But I feel like we're similar. You'd do a lot to save someone you'd never met. That's someone we'd like in Alexandria. Y/n you saved me. And I know you can save a lot more. So what do you say?"

You sighed moving closer to the cell door, "Okay."

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x gender neutral reader #rick grimes #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes twd #the walking dead #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead request #the walking dead x reader

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whumpasaurus101 · 3 years

Text

19th April, Plant Day!

I cannot tell you how tempted I was to write abt fungi but I didn’t want @brutal-nemesis to kill me :) so I can safely say that there is no fungi do not worry :D

Cw: plant whump / ‘stabbing’ sort of / deep cuts / caretaking after / fluff / angst / my gaey boys not having a good time tbh / Alicia being a bitch as usual /

Asher wasn’t happy. He was in Alicia’s house and Jack was right at her feet, kneeling. She raked her hands through his hair. Aaher looked at her in disgust from where he knelt, far away from them both. Why did Rodger have to leave him with this bitch? He would have prefered anyone, anyone over her. Jesus, he’d rather stick a fork in his own fucking eye than be here.

“Anyways,” Alicia sighed, “I want to go to the garden centre to revamp this house and whatnot and the two of you can come if you behave, Asher, I’m looking straight at you. Think of all the fun you could have if you don't throw a fucking tantrum, huh? I’ll even let you two go off for a bit if you're good. But keep in mind, I throw knives like a fucking champ so if one of you decides to try and run, you’ll get a knife in your fucking neck, understood?”

The garden centre was huge, Asher’s eyes lit up as he saw the building. And then there were people, normal people, not sick psychos! Couples, families, you name it! A sudden yank ripped Asher from his thoughts as Alicia pulled back on his top. He stumbled back and Alicia spoke in his ear, “Listen up big boy, you make one single sound to any other people and I will fucking kill you, got it?” Asher quickly nodded, scared to speak.

She forced a smile, “Good, now, let’s not waste any time!” The three walked into the centre, Asher standing in between the pair as he was least trusted. Alicia had her handbag rested against her forearm as she strode in.

There were plants everywhere. Some crawled up the wall, some hung from the ceiling and some were neatly potted and shelved. Asher, completely lost in his thoughts, didn't realise how fast he was walking until Alicia yanked him back, “What the fuck did I just tell you?!” Asher lowered his head, “Sorry.”

Both Jack and Asher followed Alicia obediently as she strolled around the store. Eventually, she had had enough. “Alright, alright! You're starting to piss me off! Just- just- ugh, just go -and stick together. But I swear that if either one of you tries something funny, I will slit both of your throats. Asher looked to Jack who smiled at him. He followed him to the outside area as they held hands in front of them so Alicia couldn't see.

Jack pulled Asher into a corner that was hidden by trees and kissed him gently, wrapping his arms around his waist. Asher chuckled, “Nothing funny, huh?” Jack smiled, “Fine, we can just stop you know, look at these… trees?” Asher chortled, snorting slightly at the end. He traced his hand against Jack’s cheek and jaw, rubbing it slightly, feeling the short stubble.

He brought Jack’s face closer and pecked him on the nose. Jack brought Asher’s hips closer, they kissed again as Jack raked his hands through Asher’s hazelnut hair. “What. the. Fuck?” They both pulled away with a jolt.

Alicia stood there, gobsmacked, “I-you.” She couldn’t form any other words than, “What the fuck.” Asher couldn’t breathe, “Pl-please don’t tell Rodger!! Please!!” That’s when Alicia smiled and chuckled, looking at Jack, “So you’re into Asher, huh? You like the ‘bad boys’?” Jack gulped, blinking fast, “Alicia, please! I-��

Alicia slapped him hard across the face, “I asked you a fucking question!” Jack whimpered. Asher looked in shock, finding himself frozen in shock. “Yes! Okay! I love him, I mean, what is there not to love about him? He’s perfect! He’s brave and he’s handsome. He’s there for me when I need him and he makes me happy every fucking day!”

Asher felt his cheeks flush a deep red. Alicia looked at him blankly, “How sweet. But you know this is simply just not allowed.” The two boys gulped. “Alicia plea-”

“Shut up!!” Asher flinched as she took a step towards him, caressing her sharp nails scraping against his cheek, “Now, now Asher, you know he’s way out of your league!” She cackled, “I mean, what’s the fucking age gap?” Asher clenched his jaw. Her thumb’s nail slightly pressing into his cheek as he let out a yelp.

“Alicia,” Jack raised his voice. Alicia turned to him, nails still digging into Asher’s skin. “Please, he didn’t-”

“You know what?” Alicia sneered, “I don’t think you understand. You are mine and Asher is Rodger’s. You are not permitted to even touch him.” Her grip tightened as blood now ran from Asher’s cut.

“I know, I know, Alicia, please, don’t do this, it was all my fault! I started this! He still doesn’t understand the rules!” Alicia sighed, yanking her hand away, making the cut bigger. “No, he doesn’t, but he will.”

Asher had no clue what she meant until an hour later when he was tied to a chair in Alicia’s kitchen. Alicia circled him, shopping bag in hand. “Have you ever heard of a honey locust?” Asher just glared at her in response, dried blood stuck to his cheek form earlier. “No?” She hummed, taking out what looked like branches of a tree. “Hmmm, well, I was going to give these to Rodger to use them on you, but I guess I can just get more and use these bad boys now!!”

Jack pulled at his cuffs which kept his hands right at the fridge’s handle, “Alicia I-“

“SHUT UP!!!!” Both boys flinched at how loud Alicia was. “Stop sticking up for your bitch all the time! You are mine and he is Rodger’s. And the bast way for you to understand things is to hurt people that you love.”

And with that, she got a thorn and quickly moved it down Asher’s collarbone, leaving a dark red line which blood fell from. Asher let out a howl of pain. His restraints left him unable to double over and protect himself.

Alicia snickered, “Oof, that’s a deep one. Oops?” She did the same thing on the exact another side. This continued until deep gashes covered his abdomen.

When she got bored, she picked up the thorns one by one, piling them into her hand. She dropped the branch and grinned at Jack. She approached a trembling Asher and traced one of the sharp thorns all across and down Asher’s arm, causing goosebumps to rise on his skin.

Without warning, she quickly stabbed a thorn straight into his arm. He yelled, he couldn’t take all of this pain. “P-please, no more! I- AGH!” He was interrupted when she poked another one right under the previous thorn. He felt his vision starting to blur.

Alicia, noticing he was starting to blackout, decided it was enough, for now. “Oh what now? No ‘smart comments’? You see, after a while, I do start to miss them. Its quite satisfying to be honest! You know, Rodger being unable to control his mutt while Jack just sits right at my side like a good bitch.”

Asher saw Jack flinch through his blurred vision. Jack had never heard Alicia call him that. It was always Rodger who did, never Alicia. Did she prefer Asher? No, no, she couldn’t! She loved Jack… right? He looked to the two, Alicia was running a hand through Asher’s hair with a smile as the other’s head lolled to the side as he slowly drifted out of it.

---

Jack was allowed to clean Asher’s wounds. He had a tweezers and was trying to pluck the thorns out from Asher’s delicate skin. Asher let out painful moans as he rocked back and forward. Jack blinked away his tears, “Ash- Asher please, I need you to stay still.” Asher did but once the tweezers were back on the last thorn, he flinched. Jack rolled his eyes, “ASHER! I NEED YOU TO FUCKING-” He froze the minute Asher’ tear-stained face and puffy eyes turned to him. He looked as if he was about to absolutely ball crying.

“Asher, oh my god, Asher, I am so sorry!” Asher blinked and the tears followed. They streamed down his cheeks as his chest rose and fell fast. He whimpered and bit his lip to stop himself from sobbing. “Asher, please I- I didn’t mean to! I’m so sorry!!”

Asher sniffed and blinked rapidly, “ ‘s alright, y-you didnt m-mean to.” Jack’s heart felt heavy but he had to keep cleaning the wounds before Alicia would come in and make some snarky comments. “This is going to sting- wait, I might have some pain killer I can give you, mkay?”

Asher nodded weakly. “Alright, give me a second.” He got up out of the empty bath they sat in and walked to the bathroom cabinet. He scanned through the shelves and his eyes landed on one of the orange containers.

He opened it up and poured two pills into his palm. He then got a glass and filled it with water, knowing the water from the bathroom probably wasn’t the best but it was better to get rid of all of the pain Asher was in already.

He handed Asher the pills and glass. Asher looked at him, waiting for a nod of approval before putting the pills in his mouth and washing them down with the water. “Th-thank you” His voice was hoarse. Jack wiped tears of his own and sat back behind Asher.

Asher’s flinches were less violent. Jack smiled, knowing that his love was in less pain. No- no, not his. Rodger’s. The heaviness settled in his heart once more. Surely there was some way of keeping Asher. Keeping? What the hell was wrong with him?! Maybe he didn’t deserve Asher. Maybe it was for the best.

He looked down as he felt Asher’s back press against him. He was asleep. His adorable face looked so peaceful. His eyes were closed and he wasn’t in pain. His angry face was relaxed and the usual crease in his eyebrows was gone.

Jack gently traced his cheek with his finger. His scar had been reopened and looked painful. After a few moments of peace, Alicia burst through the door, “Jesus fucking Christ, you cant keep your hands off him, can you? After what he went through because of you!” Jack’s head snapped up to her, “Alicia, please, let him sleep, he never sleeps! Please, I’ll do anything!” Alicia fake smiled at him for a moment before shoving her arms under Asher’s arms and dragging him out of the bathtub. Asher let out a yell of shock as he was brought out of his sweet peaceful dreams back to this phscho bitch.

“Alicia, leave him, alone, please!” Alicia just giggled in excitement, “No way, this is a fun thing to play with. You two think you're so in love. But none of you knows what love is!” Asher hung his head in shame and embarrassment. Jack noticed, he knew that Asher had absolutely no memories of his childhood, he didn't know what love was. Jack felt terrible.

Alicia looked between the pair with a shit-eating grin, “Well, you guys must be tired! Asher, you can sleep on the floor in the kitchen. Jack, you're sleeping in with me!” Jack knew better than to refuse. Asher was dragged out of the room and Jack was left sitting in the bathtub, waiting for Alicia to come and show him who he really belonged to.

—-

Taglist:

@as-a-matter-of-whump @yesthisiswhump @appy-polly-loggies @jordanstrophe @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @likeit-or-whumpit @milk-carton-offical

#whump #whump story #plant whump #plant day #I’m sorry for this #heh #the Gaey boys #are not having a good time I’ll be honest #Asher #jack #Alicia #plants #no fungi #:)#not this time #asher #whump drabble #drabble

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