#would die for nick grimes

[teapartyprincess4two]

Y/n and Matt get closer when it's just them 2 in the house, and i was thinking Fluff and Smut like a lot of Smut. Maybe Matt is a virgin but Y/n aint so she teaches him???

End of the World- M. Sturniolo

pairing: fem!reader x Matt

classification: Zombie Apocalypse AU, smut, fluff, angst/sad (kinda? Idk it’s a mix of everything)

inspiration: request^^

warnings: 18+, MDNI, set in modern day, use of y/n, literal sex, slight cursing, zombies & general apocalypse stuff (death, lnives, guns, killing, blood, hunger, dehydration, etc.), kinda long

summary: No one deserves to die a virgin, not even at the end of the world.

—

If anyone would’ve told you two years ago that you’d be huddled around the hood of a car, staring down at a worn out map, covered in blood, you would’ve called them crazy.

Two years ago your life was convenient. Now? Now life was simple, all you had to do was survive. All the things you wished would disappear; homework, bills, work, none of them mattered anymore. But they were easily replaced with an even greater burden, a zombie apocalypse and the end of the world.

Two years ago you wouldn’t have had even a spec of dirt under your fingernails, yet here you stand covered in blood that isn’t yours, weeks worth of dirt and grime, and sweat dripping down your forehead. Your hair is pulled back into a ponytail, exposing your shoulders to the harsh Texas heat and further working towards dehydrating you.

Two years ago you wouldn’t so much as hurt a fly. Now you wouldn’t think twice before pulling the trigger if it meant you had a chance at survival.

Two years ago you didn’t have to worry about where your next meal was coming from or if your bedroom was secure enough to sleep in. But the world has changed and so have you.

It’s been months since anyone in your group has had a good nights rest or a warm meal. All you’ve done is run from anything that threatens to harm you. Although you’ve all managed to set up a temporary moderately safe camp within the woods, it’s been difficult to stretch resources that are already scarce.

Food, water, clothing. These are all things that you wish you didn’t need. Why? Because leaving camp to retrieve them is dangerous. But, it’s been 2 days since your last run, and canned goods can only last so long, especially when there’s mouths to feed.

Chris uses his knife to point to an unmarked location on the map, “Nick and I will head south. I saw an old water tower in that direction when we passed through, maybe there’s a town nearby.” He uses the back of his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead before returning it back to the map, tracing the blade up a road.

“Matt and Y/n, you two try looking in this area. We haven’t checked there yet and if we’re lucky it hasn’t been completely ransacked. You might find something…” Chris pauses, taking a look at the group of people not far behind. They’re chatting, all of them wearing exhausted expression and filthy clothes. “…something to get the group through the next couple of days. We can’t stay here anymore, place is crawling with infected.”

Chris became the leader of your group easily. He had a great way of talking to people, of showing them that even though the world was ending, the glass was still half full.

“You want us to split up?” Nick whisper shouts, a clear alarm evident in his tone. “Remember what happened last time? We lost a third of the group!” Nick flails his arms in desperation, almost like he’s willing Chris to realize the stupidity of his actions.

Nick was reasonable and smart, but too kind for his own good. If he wanted to, he could’ve become the leader of your group and done just as good of a job as Chris, but Nick was too empathic to take on that responsibility. He felt the needs of the group and often was led more by emotion than by reason or logic.

“You think I don’t know that?!” Chris bites back.

You stand next to Matt, watching the argument unfold. This was typical for Nick and Chris, but it stressed you out every time.

“If we had more people, we wouldn’t have to split up. But we’re low on supplies and can’t wait around for food to magically appear,” Chris says.

“If we hadn’t split up the first time, we’d have more people,” Nick snarks, storming away. Chris groans, running his hand through his hair. This was much more responsibility than he could handle, but as the youngest, strongest members of your group it was up to you all to pull the heaviest weight.

“We’ll be fine. Y/n and I are always careful,” Matt finally chimes in, placing a firm hand on Chris’s shoulder to ease any tension. “Besides, that part of town is pretty deep into the woods. I doubt any infected will be lurking and if they are, Y/n’s good with a gun and I’m fast.”

“I’m fast too,” you chuckle, knowing that Matt is trying to make light of a dark situation.

“True. I just gotta be faster,” he replies, sending you a cheeky wink. You laugh, earning a small round of laughter from Chris and Matt in return.

Chris visibly relaxes, grateful that at least one of his brothers isn’t giving him a hard time. But truth be told, Matt didn’t agree with Chris’s plan, he was just smart enough to keep it to himself. He knew that doubt created fear, and once fear infected you, you were as good as dead.

That’s what Matt was good at, being quiet. It came in handy on runs like this, especially because he was so quick on his feet. It’s your favorite characteristic of his, he’s a good listener, he’s observant, and you know that you’ll be safe as long as Matt is with you.

“Alright. Let’s head out, we’re gonna lose the light,” Chris instructs, jogging in the opposite direction of the camp to begin loading up a few trucks with guns and ammo.

“You two can take the car.”

Matt mulls the idea over. A car would be faster, but definitely much louder. Noise attracts anything looking for its next meal, especially the infected, and with only you to cover him he’s not sure he’s willing to take that risk.

“Nah. We’re walking. The town’s not too far, we’ll make it back by tomorrow morning the latest,” Matt replies, tossing a rifle in your direction. You’re quick to catch it and just as quick to respond, “Are you sure? A car would get us there and back before dinner.”

He understands your concern, but he can’t risk losing you, not after all the losses he’s already suffered. “Just trust me,” he murmurs, the look in his eyes being enough to calm your nerves.

“Whatever you have to do, Matt. Just come back,” Chris says, slamming the trunk shut.

—

Leaves and dry grass crunch under your feet with every step. It’s late summer and the Texas heat has managed to kill everything left alive that wasn’t infected.

You’ve been walking for two hours, only running into a few infected on the way, managing to take them out with nothing but your blade. Matt hates using guns, in fact you’ve only seen him use them on very rare and necessary occasions. You never understood his apprehension, I mean it’s the end of the world for Christ’s sake, but you’ve never questioned him.

“Heads up,” Matt whispers, nodding his head in the direction of a gas station.

You follow his gaze. It seemed like an easy place to loot. Apart from the few rotted corpses that roamed the exterior, only parked cars litter the parking lot, most of them still connected to the gas pumps.

“We’ll go in through the back. There’s got to be dry storage there,” Matt says, crouching and leading you towards the back of the building. You hum in response, readying yourself with your weapon and following closely behind.

Your scent must carry because as soon as you’re within 10 feet of the infected, their attention is drawn to you. Their arms are limp at their sides and their walk is more of a stagger, but it always manages to get your blood pumping.

“Hurry!” Matt whisper shouts, reaching behind him for your hand. Soon he’s pulling you into the building, shutting it securely behind you and bringing his pointer finger up to his lips to instruct you to keep quiet.

“I’ll go left. You go right,” you mouth, beginning to walk the aisles of the store while ensuring to keep your back to the wall. Matt nods, perusing the aisles as best he can while his life is in immediate danger.

Infected bite and claw at the glass windows, snarling as they watch you and Matt like prey. Sometimes you wondered what their life was like before they were bit, but the second one is close enough to harm you, all sympathy leaves and you don’t think twice before unloading the clip.

When you’re sure the building is secure you put your knife away and grab a shopping basket, securing it in the pit of your elbow as you load it with as many supplies as you can. Chips, jerky, candy, canned food, oil, rags, water, any and everything you two can carry is being thrown into these baskets.

“How are gonna get all of this back?” You ask Matt, noticing the even greater pile he’s accumulated. He scratches his head, taking a look around for something that’ll help lighten the load.

From the corner of his eye he spots a few duffel bags. Matt grabs a few and motions for you to begin packing them with as much as possible. “If they get too heavy I’ll carry them.”

“Bet you wish we had a car now,” you chuckle, neatly organizing the duffel bags.

“Not when those things are staring back at me,” Matt says, shuddering as he looks behind his shoulder to see the group of infected that have pooled at the entrance of the building.

—

You’re carrying two duffel bags full of supplies, one weighing on either one of your shoulders. Matt’s holding three, two rest on his shoulders and he’s carrying the other in his hand. He holds the straps so tight that his knuckles have managed to turn white.

The both of you are exhausted from the strength you’re using to carry this supplies back to your camp, from the long trek up-hill, and the energy you exerted to take out at least a dozen infected.

You stumble on a rock, the weight on your shoulders making it difficult for you to fix your footing. “Hey, you okay?” Matt asks, examining you with his eyes.

“I’m fine. Just tired,” you wheeze, hunching over and supporting yourself with your hands on your knees.

Matt’s tired too, of course he is, but it’s not like you two can set up camp in the middle of nowhere while surrounded by infected. He remembers seeing a few houses further up the road, it’s not a long walk and if you can make it, you’ll be able to rest there until morning.

“C’mon I think I saw a neighborhood, just push through a little longer. We’ll rest there for tonight and pick back up in the morning, okay?”

He waits for you to catch your breath, rubbing your back and comforting you, but never once letting his guard down in case something gets a jump on him.

You take a deep breath, straightening up and adjusting the duffel bag’s straps on your shoulders.

“Okay.”

—

The walk to the neighborhood was much longer than you thought, and you were starting to wonder if you were lost.

“Are you sure this is the right way?”

Matt looks at you from behind his shoulder, subtly rolling his eyes before averting his gaze forward again. “You wanna lead the way, princess?”

The nickname makes you chuckle, mostly because you knew Matt used it when his mood was starting to sour and that only ever happened when he was hungry or tired. By the looks of it, he was starting to become both.

A small town comes into view just as you’re about to reply. It looks like you’ve stumbled across the Main Street, and as packed as it is with abandoned businesses and stores, a residential home is nowhere to be seen. “Didn’t I tell you I saw a town,” Matt snarks, a hint of sass laced in his tone.

You hum. “No. You said you saw a neighborhood. There isn’t a house anywhere to be seen. We might as well season ourselves for the damn infected to eat.”

A twig snaps in the distance. Your voices, although relatively quiet, have already worked towards alerting the undead of your presence.

“Shut up,” Matt grits, pulling you close to his body. You know better than to argue, instead pressing your back against his and unsheathing your knife.

Snarling and growling echoes through the town, bouncing off the buildings and making it difficult for you to pinpoint exactly what direction they’re coming from. That doesn’t stop Matt though, instead he uses the hand that isn’t holding a knife to grab your arm.

“Stay close,” he mouths, so inaudible that you almost don’t catch it. You nod your head, taking a fleeting look at your surroundings before following Matt through a back alley between a cafe and a gym (or what used to be a cafe and a gym).

The alley is a dead end, fenced off at the end with nothing but hungry zombies reaching through the metal rods in attempt to grab you. The old you would’ve screamed and cried for help, but you’ve learned to suppress your fear in order to survive.

You take a firm hold of your knife, stabbing it into the head of as many infected as you can. Quiet grunts emit from you and Matt as you clear the path, watching undead body after body hit the ground. For a second you feel sad, but only for a second. You don’t have time for trivial things such as emotions anymore, especially not when a trail of flesh eating monsters follows closely behind.

“Through here. C’mon,” Matt ushers, opening a door that leads into a gym. Although it’s safer than being stranded outside, the brick walls can only protect you for so long. You do a quick sweep of the room, looking for anything useful while also ensuring there aren’t any hidden surprises.

Once you’re sure it’s safe, you motion for Matt to follow you with a head tilt. He locks the door behind him, barricading it with an old elliptical before following you into the next room.

You enter a changing room, lined with showers and lockers that were sure to have at least one fresh pair of clothes. You set the heavy bags you’ve been carrying down, sighing with relief as you stretch your shoulders. Matt does the same, joining you in rummaging through the lockers for a new, clean shirt.

A lot of the clothes is tucked away in backpacks, most of it being unflattering male clothing, but you weren’t big on fashion nowadays. “Here. Found this for you,” Matt says, tossing a white tank top your way. You hold it up in the light, “Cute. Thanks.”

You’re about to change your shirt, without any real warning for Matt, so he quickly looks away and fixes his gaze on the shower heads and tiled walls. His hands fiddled with an unopened bar of soap he found in one of the lockers. Matt doesn’t know why he grabbed it, it’s not like he had access to running water, but a man could dream.

“I wonder if the showers work,” he thinks out loud.

You stand behind him, wearing only your bra and underwear as you wonder the same thing. God knows you could both use a shower right now. “Hmm,” you hum, tilting your head in wonder.

“Only one way to find out,” you shrug, pushing past Matt and sauntering over to the knob. You twist it quickly, patiently waiting for even a single drop of water.

Nothing, just groaning pipes and a slap in the face for naivety.

“Guess they don’t,” you say, standing under the shower head and looking at Matt with a sad smile. He chuckles, and just as he’s about to give up too, hot water spurts out abruptly, hitting the back of your head and running down your spine.

“Holy shit that’s hot!” You gasp. In all the excitement, Matt forgets how inappropriate it would be to join you in the shower under regular circumstances, and throws his clothes off. You’ve somehow already managed to remove your remaining clothing and have started scrubbing at your skin with your bare hands, letting the water run down your face.

“Matt! Hurry before it runs out!” You say, waving your hand behind you blindly. He doesn’t skip a beat, joining you under the shower head and letting it relax his sore, aching muscles. The water draws an audible groan from his lips, bringing you back to reality. You were naked and taking a shower with Matt, someone who was a stranger to you before the end of the world.

Suddenly, he remembers the bar of soap still in his hands and he accidentally takes in your naked figure as he opens it. His dick immediately rises, a clear indicator that he’s enjoying the view.

“Turn around,” he instructs, running the soap under the water and lathering his hands up. You do as your told, immediately feeling his fingers tangle themselves in your hair as he massages your scalp. It wasn’t necessarily an in depth hair wash routine, but it would suffice for now.

Soon, you’re turning around and rinsing the soap from your hair before reaching for the bar and instructing Matt to do the same.

“Here lemme get you now.” You shuffle behind him, tip toeing to reach better. Although it was odd and unexpected, you were glad to be sharing this moment with Matt.

The rest of the shower is silent as you and Matt bask in the warm water that runs down your bruised and battered bodies. You try keeping your limbs to yourselves, save for the brief moments Matt’s erect member brushes against your thigh or butt, but it’s hard when there’s only one shower head. You want to say something, mostly because you’ve had a crush on Matt from the moment you met him and his group, but you don’t. This isn’t about pleasure, not in this world at least. It’s about survival and the second you forget that, you get hurt.

“Haven’t felt that clean in years,” Matt chuckles, shoving a shirt over his head. The shower seems to have brought his spirits up, providing both of you with a new surge of energy. Little things like running water meant so much more now, especially when you’re trudging through highly forested areas and fighting for you life on the daily.

As you’re about to reply, a loud bang echoes through the locker room, followed by the sound of shuffling in your direction. You’re putting your pants on, buckling them quickly as you try to keep quiet. Your eyes are wide in fear and anticipation, watching Matt for a signal on what to do next.

He doesn’t say anything, instead grabbing the duffel bags from before and darting his eyes towards the exit. Your gun, which you hadn’t used at all today, rests in your hand. Matt holds his as well. He’s on guard, raising the weapon close to his face as he inspects the area.

You follow behind him trying to keep as quiet as possible, fully expecting him to shoot whatever lurks behind the wall. But, as you near the exit, you see it.

Tense shoulders relax, lowering your weapon and sheathing it back into your belt. A squirrel sits on the cement floor, grooming itself and chittering away. You want to approach it, maybe even pet it, but Matt stops you with a hand to your chest.

Unlike you, he’d inspected the entirety of the situation and didn’t let himself become distracted by the first cute animal that crossed his path. After recognizing that it was a squirrel, he wondered what could’ve lead it into the building in the first place, causing him to check the window it entered through. A reanimated corpse stood right outside the window, dragging its feet as it paced back and forth in search of the fluffy animal.

“Let’s go. We’re done here,” Matt ordered, pulling you back towards the exit. And just like that, you were off to find somewhere to sleep, leaving the fluffy animal to fend for itself.

“Bye little guy.”

—

“Forgot how quiet and boring the world is,” you huff, slumping down onto the worn out mattress. Whatever energy the shower provided you was now long gone. You and Matt walked for another hour before finding the initial neighborhood you were searching for. And, after that, you spent another hour finding the perfect house and clearing all its rooms.

“Quiet’s nice,” Matt replies with a soft groan, joining you on the mattress. It sinks with his weight, the coils creaking as he becomes comfortable.

“You’re just saying that cause you want me to shut up so you can fall asleep.” You kick your shoes off and unbuckle your belt, letting it fall to floor with a soft thud. A smile tugs at Matt’s lips. “Right now yes. But in general, quiet’s good. Means we’re safe,” he replies, toeing his own shoes off.

Matt shuts his eyes, fluffing the pillow under his head and willing himself to finally get a full nights rest. This house is safe. He secured all the rooms, barricaded the doors, and his weapon is on standby. He can finally rest and relax. But, of course, your mind begins to wander and when your mind wanders, your words follow. “Guess you’re right… But quiet also means you’re not learning anything about the people you care about.”

A deep breath causes Matt’s chest to rise and fall. He doesn’t understand why you’re trying to be all philosophical at the end of the world. Nonetheless, he responds, “I know you, Y/n. I know you’re strong, I know you’re a kind person, and I know you have my back. I also know you’re annoying, but I trust you and I learned all that from watching. Sometimes you just have to watch people. In quiet. Can we sleep now?” He turns onto his side facing away from you in hopes that you’ll drop the topic and fall asleep.

You stare at his back. “Those are all things you learned about me now. I was nothing like this back then.”

Matt takes another deep breath. It’s obvious you’re in the mood to talk, maybe because you finally feel safe enough to keep your voice anything above a whisper, so he decides just to give in and turn your monologue into actual dialogue.

“Back then?” He asks. Matt shuffles on the mattress, now staring at the ceiling as your eyes remain on him. “Yeah, before everything went to shit. Before the end of the stupid fucking world when the little things used to matter. You know, like first kisses and picking the perfect outfit for a date with a cute guy.”

Matt picks at his fingernails, listening to every word that escapes your lips. When you put it that way, he really didn’t know anything about you. “Okay, so tell me about yourself then. Pretend like we’re not in a strangers house, in a strangers room, on a strangers bed, and tell me all about Y/n… Before the ‘end of the stupid fucking world.’”

You chuckle, preparing yourself for the vulnerability you’re about to put on full display, but now that he’s put you on the spot it’s much harder than you thought.

“Okay so… you already know my name. Hmm. My favorite color is pink?”

Matt scoffs. “That’s the real you? C’mon, you can’t go on this whole tangent about how you were different before and then say THAT.”

“Fine fine.” You think for a second. “I was a waitress at a hotel bar. Mixing drinks was easy, the customers were nice, my coworkers made the job tolerable. Mostly only worked weekends because I was at school during the week��� I went to UCLA. Go Bruins!,” you let out a breathy laugh, “My siblings were going to visit me that weekend, the weekend it all happened. They had planned the trip for a long time and finally were gonna make the drive.”

Your mind goes to a dark place, the only thing anchoring you being the hand that Matt places on yours. You clear your throat before continuing, “I had a small off campus apartment. Cleared the living room out and everything for them. Even deep cleaned.” Matt squeezes your hand.

“College was fun while it lasted. My parents worked really hard to send me off. They threw me a going away party and everything, even dressed up my dog as the school mascot,” a small pause as you recollect your thoughts, “I had a puppy named Pig. Well he wasn’t a puppy, more like an old fart, but the name suited him. Named him after my favorite animal and because he had the pinkest nose when he first adopted him.”

You feel yourself becoming increasingly sad as you reminisce on what once was. “You know what? Maybe quiet is nice,” you laugh solemnly, wiping the tears that are rolling down your face.

Matt offers you a warm smile, thinking of something, anything, to get you to smile again. But he can’t help it, he’s curious, and since you’re already on the topic he wants to pry further into your personal life. “What were you going to school for?”

“Engineering. I’m shit with numbers, but I was pretty undecided so my parents just chose for me. Brandon would help me a lot. He was really smart… really sweet… But enough about me, tell me about you. Who was Matt before all this?”

Matt ignores your question, instead posing one of his own. “Who’s Brandon? Was he your boyfriend?” He cringes slightly, both at his boldness and at his lack of awareness of your vulernable, emotional state, but his curiosity keeps getting the best of him.

You snort. “Brandon? God no. He was my best friend, sure, but I was definitely not his type. Plus, I never had time for anything serious. I made time for the fun stuff, but never the commitment.” Matt couldn’t hide the relief on his face even he tried. A relationship status meant nothing during a zombie apocalypse, yet he found himself relieved to know that your heart didn’t belong to another.

“I’m sure you had girls swarming you,” you continue jokingly, poking Matt’s sides with a teasing edge. He makes a noise, something between a groan and chuckle as he runs his hands down his face.

“I take that as a yes?”

He hums, remembering the short lived internet fame he shared with his triplet brothers before shit hit the fan. “Some would say that. If you consider subscribers and followers as swarming girls.”

You visibly cringe, “Oh God. Were you one of those thirst trappers? Bet you went to influencer parties and vlogged your morning routine.” Matt laughs loudly, a genuine laugh, one of the few you’ve heard from him since you met.

“Rent was due, okay?” He replies between laughter. Soon you’re both laughing, bodies clumsily bumping as you clutch your stomach and wipe away tears. Your bodies are impossibly close, closer than they should be on a queen sized mattress, and you only notice it once your laughter dies down.

Your eyes have locked with his and your noses even manage to graze. Neither of you make an effort to look away or even to apologize for invading the other’s space. Instead, you do the unthinkable, the one thing you didn’t allow yourself to even think about doing even when he was naked in front of you earlier. You kiss him. You lean forward and close the gap, moulding your lips onto his.

Matt doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate the kiss. His hands find a comfortable resting place on your upper thigh and lower back, using the little energy left in his body to pull you closer. One of your hands lays on his chest while the other gently weaves its way through his hair.

The kiss is sweet and innocent, and it could’ve been over by now, but because you’re both so touch starved you separate for air and dive right back in. You moan against his lips, caressing the side of his face your thumb before moving so you’re cradling his waist. Subconsciously, as if on instinct, you grind down onto him, wanting to feel and explore him further.

Matt wants to go further, and he knows you know it too, especially with the display he put on earlier in the shower, but he’s a virgin who’s afraid to disappoint. So, he pulls away from the kiss and holds your hips in place with strong hands.

“I— Give me a second,” he murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut and gulping so hard his adam’s apple bobs up and down. Matt’s mind is racing, every possible outcome for this situation playing through his mind.

You sense his apprehension, plus it’s written all over his face. You never want to push his boundaries or make him uncomfortable. So, you do the only thing you can think to do. Quickly, you shuffle off of him and off the bed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I just thought— today in the shower— I’ll sleep downstairs on the couch.”

You begin to gather your things, leaving Matt dumbstruck as he stares between you and his raging erection. If he didn’t speak up now, you were going to get the wrong idea and he’d miss his chance at a shot with you. Your face is red hot with embarrassment.

“Wait.” He reaches out and grabs your hand, gently pulling you back down onto the mattress.

Matt prepares himself for the vulnerability he’s about to display. He’s nervous, embarrassed, scared, and to top it off you’re the hottest girl he’s ever seen. And it’s not just because you’re the only one left either.

“I’m a virgin.”

Your eyes blow open in shock. “But earlier you said about the? I just thought?” He laughs at your inability to form a coherent sentence, but he gets the gist.

“It was hard to trust people when I was famous, especially girls. I never knew if they truly liked me or just wanted to have my name associated with them for the clout. But it’s different now, I know I can trust you. We took a shower together without making it weird after scavenging through old worn out clothes to find something slightly newer than what we had. You’re covered in the blood of monsters we killed to keep each other safe. You’re here with me when I have nothing permanent or safe to offer.” Matt pulls you back onto his lap, sitting up against the bed frame so your torsos are parallel.

“I should’ve said this a long time ago, but it’s hard to find the time when you’re fighting for your life on the daily… I care about you, Y/n. A lot. I’m not sure what to call it yet, but I care about you and I trust you. I trust you enough to do this.” You’re touched by his words, feeling their effect on your heartstrings and your throbbing core.

“I trust you too, Matt. So much more than you’ll ever know.” In that moment those words felt more real than an ‘i love you’ ever could. Matt leans forwards and kisses you, holding you by the neck. This kiss is different than the one from before, it’s needier and laced with lust.

His hands travel towards your tank top, tugging until he successfully untucks the fabric. You pull away from the kiss and lift your arms, allowing Matt to remove your shirt in one swift motion. The smile on his face as you slowly begin roaming your hands all over his body is genuine, filled with admiration, love and lust.

Your fingers beginning slipping his flannel over his shoulders, your mouth falling down to his broad shoulders to pepper kisses on the skin there. Soon, you’re both removing the rest of your clothes and Matt’s excitement has him flipping you over on the old, worn mattress. He gawks at the sight beneath him. You lay there completely exposed with only the soft moonlight that trickles in through the blinds to illuminate your body. Matt takes it all in, relishing in your beauty like it’s the last time, because in this world it very well might be.

A gentle hand trails from his stomach down to his penis, tracing the outside of his cock and watching intently at the way Matt’s eyes screw shut in concentration. It’s been so long since he’s touched himself and the sight of you alone is enough for him to combust, but he pulls himself together. You trace your thumb over the slit, coating his member with the natural lubrication that’s already spilling out before dragging his cock along your folds. Matt’s breath hitches at the new sensation, you already feel so warm and soft, he doesn’t know how he’s meant to last even one second once he’s actually inside you.

“We can stop if you want to.” Matt gulps, shaking his head feverishly. He doesn’t want this to stop, he’d never want this to stop, even if it hasn’t even really started yet. “No,” his voice is choked, “don’t stop.”

Your lip is caught between your teeth as you continue to guide the tip to your entrance, finally unwrapping your fingers from around him and instead wrapping your legs around his waist. Finally, Matt moves, sinking his cock into you slowly until he’s completely bottomed out. The initial feeling is euphoric, so euphoric in fact that his arms wobble as he tried to keep himself from collapsing on you. You love seeing him like this. A strong man who’d do anything to protect you, so weak and vulnerable from your touch.

His head finds the place where your neck and shoulder meet, forehead resting in the divot there as he slowly begins thrusting. Soft grunts and groans brush against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. Praises fall from your own lips as his tip continues to kiss your cervix, egging him further in helping you reach your climax. But tonight was about him, as long as the man on top of you convulsed with pleasure you’d be happy.

Matt’s hips snap against yours, picking up the pace as he chases his orgasm. It’s so close, right on the edge, and from the way he sounds and feels you’re close too. “Keep going, Matt. Don’t stop,” you moan, pulling him in closer with your legs around his waist. Matt whimpers your name, sucking and biting on the skin of your neck harder with each passing thrust.

“I’m gonna cum,” he grunts, words choppy and interrupted by pants and moans. All you can do is whimper in return, snaking a hand between your bodies to rub your clit. As soon as your fingers touch the sensitive bundle of nerves, your body goes into overdrive. Your legs are shaking, pussy fluttering around his cock as you grip his shoulders and moan his name. The feeling of your walls pushing and pulling around him, mixed with the way you chant his name, pushes Matt over the edge. His hips tremble slightly as he spills his load inside of you, his inexperience making it to where he’s unable to pull out before the wave of pleasure washed over his body.

Your bodies remain intertwined for a while, both of you trying to catch your breath. Matt reluctantly pulls out of you, relishing in the way your body chases after him. The mattress dips as he slumps into the spot next to you.

“Thank you.”

You turn to face Matt, a confused look on your face. You’re not sure where this will lead your relationship, but you never expected a thank you after sex, nor had you ever received one.

“Thank you?” You chuckle, curious to where the conversation was heading.

He hums. “Yeah, for not letting me die a virgin.” You can’t help the snort that follows.

“Well in that case, I guess you’re welcome. No one deserves to die a virgin, not even at the end of the world.”

Matt smiles again, a sight you’ll never grow tired of. He leans in for a kiss, pulling you close and keeping you there. The kiss is sloppy, mostly because you’re both exhausted from the days events, but neither of you dare pull away. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring or if there will even be a tomorrow, all you know is that this moment right here is real and you’d like to enjoy it for as long as possible.

“Get some rest, we have a long trip tomorrow.”

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

Thank you so much for this request my sweet anon. I’m currently rewatching (binging) TWD and needed to get some zombie apocalypse type story out of my system, so I hope you don’t mind that I used that idea on your request. Also, I know you requested for the reader to teach Matt and I didn’t include really any of that here. I focused on the whole Virgin!Matt aspect of it all. Hope you all enjoy, sorry for not writing a lot recently :P I’m deep in the trenches of Daryl Dixon fanfiction right now so if u need me, that’s where you’ll find me (if u can’t already tell by my reblogs lolol)

ps, I didn’t go to UCLA so if that’s not the mascot don’t kill me. A quick google search told me that much

luv u all xxx

- L.A.M.B 💗👼🏻

—

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[nichenarratives]

Hurricane Heller 13

Entire works can be found on AO3 here.

last | first | next

[Tw: mentions of gore, cleaning wounds and stitching gunshots]

13. Administrative Leave

Mordecai has been there for hours, the compress held to his swollen face while he stares at the ceiling. Clutching his last connection to his family and his lost faith in hand, the tuxedo periodically runs his thumb over the ornate outer face of his pocket watch, waiting for a decision from Savage regarding his position in the organisation's well-oiled machine.

Everything about Fiores he'd proposed before their fight had been lies. The kid he bailed out was definitely an employee, but didn't work the tables that night. He was busy getting beaten, for being caught for the minor offenses and risking bringing the police knocking on their door. Mordecai simply baited the underboss' temper into a fight and ended it before the claims could be challenged, making Fiores look guilty in front of his enforces.

That doubt might save his skin, if Savage actually decides to interrogate the enforcers on what happened, but it's just as likely he'll order him a shot between the eyes to be done with them both at once.

When he last checked his pocket watch, it was almost four in the morning. Mordecai has been here for over three hours now, suffering through the waiting game as his head slowly went from an intense throbbing, to a dull ache echoing his pulse. His eye has swollen shut completely and his jaw feels bulbous and hot, making his sinuses ache, but it's all things that'll heal with time, if he's permitted to live.

It's his leg he's concerned about; the wayward bullet nicked him, searing through the outer thigh of his right leg and raw muscle, creating a shallow channel through his flesh. It's excessively painful, nauseating to look at and difficult to rest on the hard, tiled floor comfortably. His foot goes numb if he stays still too long, so he has to shift it often, which opens the clotted mess of blood and grime that's caked the frayed fabric to the wound.

Not that being comfortable would help much. He can't leave the launderette until Savage hands down orders, nor is he content to sleep with weapons pointed at him. Exhaustion claws at his consciousness, but the leg wound keeps him from succumbing to sleep, and he supposed in that regard it's a temporary benefit.

A door squeaks open. The eleventh hour is nigh.

He doesn't open his eye at first, assuming the worst is about to transpire with hushed voices in the threshold, but the click of a fine heel feels particularly out of place. Mordecai frowns before cracking his eye tiredly, to be met not with the barrel of a pistol, but a woman dressed like a school ma'am with a large Gladstone bag held before her.

Slightly shorter than average, the woman is dressed smart but demure; a sensible kitten heel and pantyhose in black, a navy skirt set with sharp box pleats, a navy suit jacket, and white shirt sporting a wide ruffle collar draped over the suit jacket. A navy cowl is pulled over her ears too, casting her face in shadow. Sharp blue eyes look the young tom up and down beneath the hood before she turns to the man at her shoulder. "I need a bowl o'boiled water an' some rag. Clean rag, mind. Th'boy don't need sepsis too."

Once the man has his marching orders, the woman places her bag on the floor, carefully kneels beside it and clicks the top open. Mordecai lowers the defunct compress to his lap as she rummages around in her bag, producing a bottle of a clear white liquor, some bandages and cotton pads. Not his executioner then, but his nurse. Perhaps I won't die tonight?

Bag left open, the woman turns back around and without warning, takes hold of his chin. Digging her claws in a little when he tries to shake her free, she waits for his protests to subside before turning his face to look at his eye and jaw, leaning in far closer than Mordecai is comfortable with. "Jus' bruisin'," she informs briskly, releasing his chin and lowering her cowl. "Y'leg migh' need stitches, but won't know f'sure 'til I get this muck off. Face is fine, though."

Mordecai is surprised to see the colourful fur beneath her cowl; a burnt orange pelt, black ear tips and thick brows, with similar black markings around her white muzzle. Bright turquoise eyes stare back into greens, all vibrancies of pelt and iris not seen natively in New York without tabby stripes. When he stays silent, she raises a brow. "Starin's rude. You want fixin', I'd suggest y'stop gawkin'."

Dark ears fold as Mordecai scowls, hackles raising. "I wasn't staring," he states, then looks away as a steaming bowl of water is placed between them. "At least, not intentionally."

"Don't matter if y'meant to or not. You'd get a smack if y'was my kid, even at y'age." She shakes her head in disapproval as she unscrews the bottle of spirit, measures a capful, and dumps it into the hot water. A second capful gets dumped in the water too, but the third is held towards Mordecai. When he doesn't take the offering, the woman sighs and pressing it into his hand, starts soaking the rag in the solution. "Get it down y'lad. This isn't gon'be fun withou' a little liquor."

The tuxedo scowls. "I don't dri-"

He cuts off with a sharp gasp, spilling a little of the shot as a solution-soaked rag presses to the raw flesh of his thigh. He tries to jerk away from the searing pain traveling through the entire appendage, but a strong hand holds him steady, the other working at the clotted mass connecting his wound to Mordecai's torn trouser leg. His toes curl, his claws drag at the cracked tiles and his head hangs as he weathers each wave of pain with nausea in his throat until it subsides.

There's no sympathy in the lines of her face when their eyes meet through his fringe, the nurse only motioning to what remains of his liquor cap before rinsing her rag. The solution turns a sick shade of pink, little clumps of blood and tissue floating away as it's rung out. Mordecai inhales shakily and knocks back the burning liquor without complaint beyond a hiss and an unconscious shudder of disgust.

Between the wound cleaning, cutting off a pant leg (the tom refused to disrobe in front of them), four stitches and binding on a dressing, the ordeal lasts an hour. Mordecai downed a second shot in lieu of actual painkillers while being stitched up and feels woozy as he's escorted to a car waiting to take the tom home. "Y'on admin leave," the nurse states as he's bundled into the back seat. "Th'boss'll be in touch soon."

Mordecai isn't quite sure what admin leave is, but he's never been so grateful to fall face first into his mattress that night, not even bothering to take off his shoes or jacket. Crumpled clothes and filthy sheets are a tomorrow-Mordecai problem, he decides as he curls up under his duvet, bandaged thigh carefully positioned to not to jostle the wound. Sleep…

-.-.-

Knock knock knock!

The sound pounds directly in Mordecai's skull, an incessant and painful thump synchronised with his pulse as it thrums in his ears, head, and neck in tandem. The monochrome tuxedo tries to open his eyes and groans when the pain only intensifies in the afternoon sun. Scrunching up his face, he lays an arm across his eyes and swallows thickly, his mouth excessively dry. Water… I need-

Knock knock knock!

He squints up at the ceiling, realising the knock wasn't just a symptom of mind but an actual knocking. Repeat, insistent knocks unlike those offered when required for a job. It takes a great deal of effort for Mordecai to sit up, pivoting his body so his - still shoe-clad? - feet touch the floorboards, a pulse echoing awfully in his ears as he pushes to his feet.

The tom gasps as sharp pains shoot up his right thigh and his leg gives way; Mordecai stumbles and falls against the nearest wall with a further grunt, stitches in his leg straining against the movement. It's then the memories return: the kid he interrogated, his fight with Fiores, the gunshot, the nurse and finally, the paint-stripping liquor far more potent than a Sabbath wine. His head swims; he swallows hard. I'm… hungover?

Knock knock knock! "Mordecai? Are you there?"

A familiar voice, though the tomcat can't quite place it in his current state. Balancing against the wall, Mordecai tests his weight on his throbbing leg before hobbling toward the front door, which seems like miles in his compromised state, a palm pressed to the wall for security the entire way. Pausing at the threshold, he runs shaking fingers through wayward morning hair before opening it.

Nataliya's smile falters immediately, hands flying to her muzzle in shock. "Oh my- what happen?"

It's then Mordecai looks down at his disheveled state: a suit and tie from the day prior still worn, now creased beyond an explainable median; one of his pants legs roughly cut off at the top of his thigh; a thick bandage wound around said exposed thigh; his shirt cuffs unfastened and collar loose, suspenders dangling down his back; and his face blown up like a balloon, pince nez broken and wonky on his deformed snout.

Mordecai sighs and without even trying to deter her, turns to hobble back inside. He's thankful when Nataliya accepts the silent invitation and slips in behind him, closing his door with a gentle click before he's hovering around his limping frame. Nataliya follows him around worriedly, almost helping him a few times before she withdraws again, uncertain what to do or even if it's appropriate to assist.

"Mordy, what happen?" The tuxedo almost laughs when she asks that, but a preliminary chuckle jerks his injuries and he grunts quietly instead, carefully sliding in his armchair. How could he explain last night without mentioning his malicious job? He takes off his pince nez and rubs his eyes slowly, kind of glad she's there, until the silence allowing Nataliya to say more: "You Ma ask me to see you okay, but I see you… very not okay."

The mention of his mother stills the tuxedo, hackles raising as he glares at Nataliya over his hand. Of course his mother is involved; she's the only reason he and Nataliya ever met, he's sure of it. Now she's got the girl doing reconnaissance on her son because he's not been home in three weeks. His hand lowers to his lap, pince nez replaced as his scowl only deepens, aching jaw tight. 

"That's why you're here?" He asks, perhaps the coldest tone he's ever used with the girl cutting the air. Large black ears fold back as Nataliya recoils slightly. He has no empathy for the girl though; he's too pained, too exhausted, too angry. His gaze narrows as his frustrations finally boil over. "Not because you are concerned for my health, or that we were somewhat close, but to appease my mother."

"I was w-"

"Does she still insist we should be betrothed?" he interrupts, not wanting to hear excuses or justifications. He's heard too many such things - usually lies - when torturing the truth out of targets as Savage's puppet. He's so sick of always being someone's puppet. "Or was that inane suggestion finally put to rest once I abandoned Sabbath services?"

Tears well in her yellow eyes, features crumpled sadly, her hands wringing before her as she tries to find words while targeted by such an intense anger, especially from someone she didn't believe capable of such hatred. Eventually, she sucks in a breath, her body shaking and tail tucked between her legs. "Mrs Kovitz h-has soup for you. Matzo ball s-soup. Your Ma said you… l-like it."

With that final offering, Nataliya makes a hasty exit from the apartment, slamming the door behind her to mask her sobs. The thin walls hide nothing as she runs down the stairs and into the street in floods of tears, leaving Mordecai alone with his thoughts once more. 

A flurry of mixed emotions he doesn't quite understand bombard his mind at once and in an attempt to quell them, Mordecai grabs the nearest object - one of his father's old books - and throws it at the door with an anguished cry. Not surprisingly, the book falls uselessly to the ground after striking the door, doing nothing to mediate his unsettling emotions or relieve his pain.

He feels hollow, an avocado skin scooped free of bland pith and left to rot in the sun, empty and meaningless, beyond openly decaying. Still hyper-aware of every neuron singing in his brain, incapable of processing the stimuli, Mordecai cups his face in his hands and breathes, hoping if he stays like that long enough, it'll all just… go away.

[farfromhome97]

Born Cursed : The Beginning

War Is Near

Warning: nakedness, self-doubt, cursing, some sexual tension, fighting, gore, overall carnage

18+

The warm water soaked away my aches and pains as I stared off into space. Using a washrag to thoroughly clean the sweat and grime from the day away, noting different nicks and small bruises the many days of training had given across my body.

Placing the rag on the side of the bath, I ran my hand over the surface of the water in front of me, finally contemplating the current decisions I was making.

I had to do what I needed in order to survive. Still, the prospect of war wasn't something that came with ease.

I would be killing other humans by the end of tomorrow. Trying to explain to myself that it was either them or me, that these people were destroying the Earth and I was just helping keep it the way it was.

I was doing what was right in order to survive.

But, even trying to justify my actions, the little voice that followed me everywhere spoke to me:

It should be you to die instead.

My jaw went tight as I clenched my teeth together, my fist balling as I held them underwater against my thighs, trying my best to keep calm.

Even so, the condescending tone of my fathers' voice was still loud in my head.

You know he'll do the same to you when he can't use you anymore. Nobody will ever want a cursed thing like you around.

Pulling my hands over my ears I whispered to myself, telling him to leave me alone, to deal with his voice when I needed to focus was just like him, always furthering negativity at the perfect time.

No matter what you do you'll always be useless, just like your mother. Worthless as the day she gave birth to yo-

"Just shut UP already!"

I shouldn't have screamed it as I smacked my ears over and over, yelling to my father that he was wrong.

No matter what I did, he always spoke in times of doubt, knowing I had no choice but to become stronger, more level-headed.

Not for Sukuna, not because of my father, but for myself and because I needed to.

Sighing as I tried to drown out his voice, I prayed loudly to whoever listened to give me strength and courage, lying to myself that I wasn't scared before dunking my head below the water, staying submerged for over a minute or two, watching the bubbles from my nose float up to the surface, the voice finally dying out completely.

Before I could lift myself from the water, two large hands plunged below the waters surface in front of me, shutting my eyes from shock as I tried to push the hands away from me, only for them to take a hold of them and pull me up from below the water to the surface, the sudden change causing me to inhale a small amount of water.

The flickering lights were dimmed from the water in my eyes as I coughed water from my mouth. Before I could speak I swung my hips backwards inorder to be released, only to feel a third hand grasp the small of my back and pull me forward, my eyes shooting open to find Sukuna smirking down at me.

Yelping as I did my best to cover myself, I flailed in his grasp telling him to let me go, watching as his eyes my face before raising a brow.

"So fickle."

Was all that was said before he did let me go, water soon filling my vision once more as I swam to the other side of the bath.

"I am not fickle My Lord, I was bathing! Whatever made you pull me from the water?!"

Instead of answering me, Sukuna only gazed down at me with a smirk, crossing his arms in front of him.

Huffing, I stood from the water, sticking my tongue out at him, crossing my own arms and puffing my chest out in hopes to appear taller.

Instead, I only received loud laughter, blushing as the curse held his stomach and threw his head back, the sound echoing against the walls, I was still as bare as the day I was born.

A small yelp left me as I covered myself again and darted back below the water, only stopping when it reached below my chin.

"Yes, fickle indeed, little mortal. No need to be so shy, being naked is to be in our natural state."

Coming to sit on the edge of the bath, Sukuna grabbed two bath towels in one hand as another reached across the water and threw them on my head.

"Mortals always have been shameful. Such pity."

Instead of covering, I stood as they fell to the water, made my way to the edge, climbed out of the tub only slipping slightly before sitting on the edge next to him, pulling my other leg out.

Once I was fully seated I looked over at Sukuna, watching as his smirk disappeared and something unfamiliar, a look I'd never seen before crossed his face. His nostrils flaring slightly as his breaths deepened, noticing from the corner of my eyes when his biceps tightened under the grip of his hands, only speaking when he said nothing, my voice barely a whisper.

"Am I shameful now, Lord Sukuna?"

Looking up at him, shrugging before I stood, and made my way out into the many hallways, running slightly when I left, clutching my goods and heading to my room, giggling the whole way.

I almost slipped several times, my laughter bouncing off the dark hallways as I heard Sukunas steps behind mine.

Finally at my rooms door, the door handle becoming slippery due to wet hands, cursing with my laughter as I finally pried it open, running to my wardrobe immediately getting dressed.

Walking to the little table I had everything for my hair to be taken care after a good dunking, letting the oils brush down to make sure my ends stayed hydrated.

Hearing the knocking of who I assumed to be the king himself, jumping, since never once had he knocked on anyone's door he was king he owned everything here.

Putting my face in my hands, I peeked as he walked through the door, crouching down to fit through the frame.

"I am sorry, My Lord, I-"

"You are not shameful, Y/N."

Sighing, I crossed my arms over my chest, looking up at the tall curse in front of me. He has always been beautiful, but in the lighting of my room on a summers night, he looked angelic, as if sculpted by the gods, something I did not consider myself to look like.

He had no reason to be shameful. Even still, I couldn't let him know how weak I felt, not when being weak would mean being killed.

"No, not when death could be at any time."

Kneeling down to my level, his crimson eyes fixing on mine, his hands crossing over his bent knee.

"You are an interesting mortal."

Smiling, I leaned closer to his face, looking at him close for the first time felt thrilling, always being so far from his face. His tattoos sharp but slightly raised, his eyes that never seemed to blink, staring right back at me.

"Thank you. Good night, My Lord. May sleep find you well."

Rising from his place, Sukuna placed a hand on my shoulder, rubbing a thumb across the large scar that showed below my sleeve.

"Where did this come from?"

Looking down at his hand, I let a shakey breath go before speaking.

"My...father, My Lord. He was not a nice man."

Instead of questioning further, Sukuna only nodded, removed his hand before wishing me a good night and telling me that we would be leaving in the morning for the Yuhtan forest. War was indeed near.

-The Battle Of Curses & Thieves-

The metal of armor and footsteps was all I heard walking to the tall hill, my place beside Sukuna as we walked in front ahead of Curses and Spirits alike, my eyes looking everywhere I could, taking in everything I could.

The large trees surrounding the area only partially as a clearing came into focus, soon seeing the hundreds of humans clad in their own armor, looking up at us from afar.

Sukuna cursed under his breath, a snarl across his face as stared them down before flicking how eyes to me, a human fighting with him.

Fighting against the humans that have stolen from him. Humans who looked at me with disgust, who would soon all be dead because of their own misdeeds.

"Are you ready, Y/N?"

I looked up to Sukuna, who standing proud, looked back down to smirk at me.

Holding my hands to the side, feeling the cursed energy grow in my hands, almost like holding a sword, extending my reach as my walking began to slow.

"I have no choice but to be ready, My Lord."

Nodding, Sukuna finally stopped, raising a hand as the sound of footsteps coming to a hault and armour clinking to a stop was all to be heard until Sukunas' thundering commands.

"Kill them all!"

Within an instant, the once quiet fields of grass became loud with the shout of human chants, the sound of metal clashing as the fighting began.

"No one is to be left breathing, Y/N."

To my left, I was flanked by three men clad in armour and helmets, their swords flashing in the sun as they ran towards me.

Swinging my hands in front of me, I watched as my shadows covered their necks one by one, bringing my hands above my head and back down, the heads of the men rolling off of their necks as blood spewed from the wounds.

All hell was breaking loose.

Moments later, I was lost in the middle of the field, Sukuna having gone elsewhere, meaning I had to protect my own skin.

Another wave of thieves came stomping my way, flanking me on all sides, even behind me as I drew my shadows closer to me.

Stopping completely, my chest rose rapidly as I tried to catch my breath.

"Traitor!"

Watching as the swords rose, closing in on me, yelling the word to me as I gained my bearings, a hot searing pain hit my side as I brought my hand to my chest;

"No. I am so much worse."

Blinding light filled my vision, their horrid screams echoed through the field, so loud that my knees hit the ground as I covered my ears. The sounds of flesh being torn still present, crying as they begged me to stop.

Too quickly, much too sudden, everything was quiet.

All I could hear was the sound of my own heartbeat. Picking myself up, I ran.

Not looking down, up, left or right, I went as fast as my feet could take me as I clutched my side. I had to make it home.

Home? You don't have a home, remember?

I needed to find Sukuna, was this over?

I couldn't tell, there was no sound anymore only the voices in my head, my sight unfocused, the war was over, we should be going home now.

Sukuna? He's gone, Y/N. Just like everyon-

"SHUT UP HE DIDN'T LEAVE!!"

Stopping, I let my knees fall as I finally felt the ground, barely catching my face with my free hand, breathing harshly through my mouth as I tried catching what little breath I had.

He wouldn't leave....right?

Pain shot through my side, curbing my thoughts, blood trailing through my fingers.

I groaned as the pain spread, feeling my muscles begin to ache and the familiar headache beginning to form behjnd my eyes.

I tried to look around me, only for my vision to tunnel into darkness, praying that I was found before I took my last breath.

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A/N!!: 😈 laughs manically

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Taglist!: @m0ch1nut 🥰

[gncbutpi]

Okay!! Last day!! Propaganda time!!

I'm sure phryne is very cool, but Juno Steel is a story about growth, and the noir detective framing is vital to the story (Big time Juno Steel spoilers ahead)

The first episode opens like any classic noir (I even imagine it in BW tbh), the gritty 40 year old PI describing his grimy city, and how he's doing what he can, and also just getting by. He falls in love this episode with an homme fatale, a beautiful sharp-teethed thief who nicks the keys to the loot right out from Juno's nose, in the midst of a kiss, no less!

Season 1 flicks around with little noir-y capers, with grim wisecracking in the face of the everyday grime of the city. You see Juno's friendship with a giant semi-sentient mutant sewer rabbit, and he's blase about it (You've never seen a Mars Rabbit?). You see some of what led Juno on this path, his childhood friends in tragedy. You follow as he gets entangled with another sexy PI, (who he has to let down bc he's hung up over some thief). You see as he cracks cases under high pressure, with high gambling stakes. You see him try to sacrifice himself. And it feels heroic, and tragic, and... senseless. And he walks away from a good thing, because he's married to his city, til death they do part, and that good thing would take him away.

Season 2 also follows that noir pattern, with every choice Juno makes, even when trying to help people, resulting in deaths. We see how he is trapped within the confines of this story.

And then, he leaves the city.

He's following a mystery, and not even paid for it.

He's following his gut, that something fishy is afoot.

And it is.

And he gets saved by these shady customers, who could use his PI skills.

And he gets saved by them again, as they (use handwavey scifi magic to) save his life. But he has to work through some inner demons.

Mainly, his mom.

And here is where we see the origins of this story Juno has created. Here we see the corruption in his past, the personal trauma that made him believe he wasn't worth much, the joy and praise attached to being a superhero, a tragic figure, a sacrificial lamb. And here, he decides to acknowledge that. And here, he decides to keep living.

And he keeps deciding to keep living.

And when the fog of depression is easier to see through, when he moves beyond Hyperion City, when he decides he doesn't want to die, something miraculous happens.

It's not a noir anymore.

The characters all behave the same, but they're recontextualized. They even gain control of the microphone in season 3. We see that Juno had trapped himself in this tragic story where he's the hero, fulfilling the most beautiful narrative that his mother had taught him. We see that he can decide to connect to people as people and care about them, more than for their place within the noir story.

But he's still a detective! He's still got a keen eye and is a crack shot with a blaster and a mouth that won't stop! But he's not trapped. He's not one opportunity away from sacrificing himself, not if there's something else he can do about it.

Anyway. Vote Juno Steel for learning to grow beyond your mommy issues. Vote Juno Steel to "Suck it up, ask for help, and live, you jerk!"

ROUND 3: QUARTERFINALS

[fandcmwritings]

Until the very end

<part 2>

Part one of my Carl Grimes x fem!reader series! word count: 1k

set in season 4 episode 9

A/N: I will be updating this series once a week but sometimes I won’t be able to due to finals! Hope you like it and please leave a comment with your thoughts. If you want to be added to my taglist ask me in my submission box!

Also y/n calls the walkers zombies before meeting the group because let’s be honest, that’s what we’d all call them if we were in a zombie apocalypse :D

______________________________________

“I’m sorry,” You backed away from the now lifeless body of your brother, the same knife you’ve had for the last four years that you used to kill countless zombies with was now sticking out from his skull. Tears streamed down your face as you took out the knife with trembling hands. “I’m so sorry,Nick.”

Ever since the whole world went to shit you had to learn to adapt. It was running,fighting and trying to find food and water most of the time. The apocalypse hit when you were 12 years old and ever since then you haven’t stayed at one place for more than a month. It was hard, of course it was. Luckily your brother was the one who helped you through it. He was your rock, the person that was always there for you no matter what.

Until he wasn’t.

It all happened so fast, you didn’t even notice something happened at first. It was your usual supply run, the food ran out in the small town you found shelter in so you had no choice but moving on. On your way to the main road a herd of zombies came walking your way. You and Nicholas realized you only had two choices, make a detour through the forest or get eaten by flesh-eating freaks. Obviously you chose the first option. But as it turned out, the second option might’ve been better. The herd of walkers you saw on the road consisted of maybe 12 zombies , the zombies you encountered in the woods however were with a lot more. A lot.

“Just go! I’ll hold them off. I can handle myself!” Nick yelled, struggling to hold the zombie in front of him at bay.

“No! not without you!” A zombie now came right for you but you were faster and your knife was in its skull before it could come remotely close to biting you.

And when you said you weren’t going to leave your brother alone you meant it. You managed to kill the whole herd without a scratch which was new to you. You picked up a talent of always getting hurt one way or another.

“You see that? We’re okay,” You turned around to your brother. He was sitting against a tree and inspecting his left shoulder with a pained expression. Your heart sank. He couldn’t be- Not him. “We’re okay right?”

“If you’re okay then i’m okay.” Nick said with a small smile but his eyes told you something else. He was bit and he knew this was the end of the road for him.

“I’m so sorry Nick...” You said again, the tears had stopped now and all you felt was this numb feeling that you couldn’t explain. After your parents you thought you’d get used to it. And maybe the feeling you got now proved that. You weren’t sure. All you knew now was that you were alone and needed shelter.

It was around midnight when you were finally able to find a small shed to stay in. It wasn’t big but it would work for one person. The realisation of being alone was now more frequent in your mind. You never had to rely solely on yourself before. You hoped that tomorrow would be a better day. Maybe you would be able to find some food? Better shelter at least. Fall had just begun and without the warmth of another person with you nightfall started to feel a lot colder than before. You contemplated on starting a fire but chose not to, attracting more zombies really wasn’t something you were looking forward to after today.

After a somewhat restless sleep you decided it was time to hit the road again. Your hunger was the only thing on your mind right now and you needed food soon.

It didn’t take you long until you found a somewhat deserted town. You hoped that even though it looked deserted that didn’t mean there was no more food to be found. You body told you to slow down due to the lack of energy but you forced yourself to continue.

Just a little longer.

The first house you saw was to your right and looked like it was still in a decent shape. When you entered you were met with a sour smell that most likely belonged to a zombie that laid dead somewhere. You tried your best to ignore it and made a b-line towards the kitchen.

To your luck there were still some crackers and a jar of peanut butter left. It wasn’t much but it was the best you’ve had for a while. You quickly dipped some crackers into the jar and you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of content. Who knew that peanut butter would save your life in the apocalypse?

You were about to take your last bite but the sound of gunshots caught your attention.

There was someone here.

You didn’t know if you had to hide or find out where the noises came from. After the first gunshot, snarls from zombies could be heard and if this would continue any longer it could attract even more of them.

You didn’t waste another minute and made sure your gun was loaded and your knife steady in your hand.

The small herd of walkers seemed to follow someone that probably also fired the gunshot. You watched the scene play out from behind a tree and saw it was a man, no a guy probably around your age, struggling with the remaining zombies. You thought he was able to handle himself when you saw the zombies he killed that were now lying on the ground, until he tripped on the ground. Three zombies followed him down to the ground and were trying their best to take a bite. Flashbacks from your brother’s bite wound shot through your mind for a second until you shot out from behind your hiding place. This guy was going to die without your help and you didn’t wish a zombie’s death upon anyone.

You sprinted towards the now formed pile and smashed your knife straight into the three zombies. They went limp underneath you and you tried your best to move them away from the boy with the sherrifs hat. The guy wiggled his way from underneath the pile and now looked up at you.

“Thanks for that.” He exclaimed, still trying to catch his breath.

“No problem.”

[nicholas-wolfwood]

They're alive. Everyone was safe, after another hectic gunfight, the two of them covered in grime and their own dried blood as the rush of it all starts to die down. But, Vash takes the moment of waning adrenaline in the aftermath to grab Wolfwood's face and give him a kiss. A celebration of life, and, an affection meant for those moments where you just have to kiss someone.

An affection taken too far, and Vash realizes it immediately as he pulls away quickly, with redness in his cheeks. "Uh- S-sorry..." And just like that, he's let go of the human in favor of awkwardly shoving his hands in jacket pockets.

Vash wasn't the only one coming down from the high of a fight. Wolfwood wiped the blood from his knuckles, unable to help but feel a bit proud of himself. He'd done it. He'd managed to hold back from killing them.

Sure, it was mostly because Vash was here, but he'd take what little boosts to his self-esteem that he could. He'd been about to mention the accomplishment when his face was grabbed.

Wolfwood tensed, fist clenching in reflex, almost as if he'd been expecting to get hit again. Had he messed up? Did he end up killing somebody and Vash was ready to put him in the hospital again?!

All those fears were wiped from his mind (as well as any coherent thoughts and tension) when he was pulled into a bloody, grimy kiss.

By the time Vash had pulled away, the priest's face was a shade of red that would rival his stupid coat. Nick coughed, trying to regain his composure.

"H-hey, guess that means it was a success, huh?" Foot meet mouth.

[frilly-chipmunk]

I have a request!

I've been reading fanfiction for years and I feel as though I've read just about everything... I need fic and author recommendations! Currently I'm looking for the following. I love detailed smut so please send me recs for a lot of that!

😍 =Really wanna find

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

😍 John Winchester // Daddy Winchester is in my dreams lmao. Secret relationship sorta thing is pretty hot with him.

Crowley

Lucifer

The Walking Dead + Fear

Daryl Dixon // Possessive!Daryl, anything that revolves around him "Claiming" you. Lots of dirty talk.

Carl Grimes // Please have this be after he's 18. Closet dom!Carl is hot af. I've had a soft spot for him after reading a similar fanfic.

😍 Bethyl // The whole age gap thing is hot and Daddy dom!daryl is to die for. Especially with dirty talk.

Nick Clark // I'd love to find some Dom!Nick or Dark & possessive!Nick, it's hard to find anything with him. I have slightly darker requests but I'll save those for later.

😍 Chris Manowa // Possessive Dom!Chris would be a god send

Attack on Titan

😍 Levi Ackerman // Dom!Levi who has a thing for dirty talk.

😍 Eren Yeager // Daddy dom!Eren, dirty talk, maybe a little knife play or gun play. Throw a praise kink in there just for some fun lol

Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter

MCU

Tony Stark

Loki

Peter Parker

Bucky

Harry Potter

Sirius Black

Draco Malfoy

Fred & George Weasley

LotR

Maze Runner

Thomas

Naruto

Sasuke

Shikamaru

Kiba

Itachi

Sasori

Deidara

Bring Me The Horizon

😍 Oli Sykes // Every since I found out he got fangs I need it in my life. Please. The need for hot, dirty, kinky vampiric fucking is urgent. I could go on and on about this. He's just fucking hot.

Black Veil Brides

😍 Andy Biersack // Vampire!Andy is a need ever since I read a fic of him being a sexy vampire lord who basically fucked your brains out every chapter. //

Sleeping with Sirens

Pierce the Veil

Pirates of the Caribbean

Jack Sparrow

The 100

😍 John Murphy // possessive Dom!John, especially when he's jealous. Just rough sex and dirty talk would be amazing.

Bellamy Blake

To wrap this up, the kinks into are kinda self explanatory. Not really into non con but you can send them.

[whump-me-baby-one-more-time]

Magnum Opus

TW for heavy(ish) torture! Please heed the tags!

Hero gets captured by Supervillain. They get their mask ripped away, their costume cut off, leaving nicks in their skin and ribbons of cloth on the floor.

Supervillain smiles and calls them by their real name, a soft, civilian word reverberating through the room as they begin their torture, stripping away all pretenses of strength and displays of defiance until Hero screams for mercy. Their pleas are punctuated by ragged gasps from out of broken ribs, half-sobs building in their throat and escaping in wet, hoarse whimpers.

"Please," they moan, blood gushing out of their mouth from where Supervillain pulled a tooth. "Please, stop. Please."

Supervillain cocks their head.

"I didn't think you'd give up so quickly, Hero. Seems like the legend doesn't quite hold up to reality."

They step closer to Hero, clutching a knife absentmindedly. Their hand is not unkind as they cup Hero's tear-streaked face.

"But then again, you are just a human. There's nothing special about you at all, is there?" they muse, smearing blood and grime over Hero's cheek with a soothing thumb.

"The people don't worship you, they worship a lie, Hero. If they knew who you really are, they wouldn't so much as glance your way. But you know that already, don't you?" They smile a small wicked smile.

"Why else would you hide behind a mask?"

Hero sobs again and Supervillain hums as they pull Hero's body closer against their own, until they're cradling them in their arms. Their shirt immediately soaks up the tears as Hero shakes helplessly in the one-sided embrace.

"You were never supposed to be a hero," Supervillain mutters, drawing the tip of the knife softly across the back of Hero's neck. Fresh hot droplets spring up, but Supervillain holds Hero steady when they try to pull away, struggling futilely against their restraints.

"You're too weak," they say, continuing the knife's pathway, "too hotheaded. All steam and no fire. All it takes is a little change of wind and you immediately fall apart. Just look at you."

They lean back, nudging Hero's chin up with the edge of the knife. Hero's eyes are wide and glassy with pain, rimmed red from all the tears, and it sends jolts of pleasure straight through Supervillain's chest.

"So broken," they sigh, trailing an appreciative finger over the bruising on Hero's cheek. "You've always been the perfect little punching bag, but I had no idea just how beautiful my work looks under that mask."

Hero cries out as Supervillain snaps the knife smoothly across their jaw, adding more blood to the mess on Hero's upper body with fresh, trickling drops.

"Please," Hero hiccups, eyes flickering with fear as Supervillain lays a manicured nail on their chest, digging tentatively into one of the deep slashes they left earlier. Hero squirms and Supervillain can hear jagged bones grind against each other.

"Please, don't, please, stop, stop."

It's almost a scream, choked by too much pain as Supervillain buries their knife in Hero's shoulder to the hilt, slicing through muscles and tendons with barely any resistance.

"That's number three," they say, forcing Hero to look at them through their haze of agony. "Don't look so surprised, I told you at the beginning that I'd put a blade in you for every time you made my life hell."

They turn, releasing Hero into a quivering heap of misery, and pick up another knife.

"We still have a long night ahead of us."

"Don't," Hero manages to say, gaze unsteady but fixed on the weapon in Supervillain's hand. "Please, this is gonna kill me."

"Oh, of course," Supervillain says, sounding almost chipper. "But don't worry, we'll have a lot of fun before then."

"I don't-"

Hero gasps when Supervillain flicks a finger against knife number two stuck in their thigh. They lick their split lip and try again.

"I don't want to die," they whisper, eyelashes stiff and heavy from the tears and yet still as unbearably beautiful as they always were when Supervillain fought them, their eyes the only visible trait behind the mask.

They did everything back then, everything in their power to make them flare up with anger, like a child playing with the electric wires because they wanted to see the lights flicker.

Supervillain had no idea how mesmerizing they would look like this. Broken instead of angry, mouth half-open in a constant helpless plea, bright eyes drowning in tears that just won't stop pouring down their battered cheeks.

"Please," Hero rasps out. "Please don't kill me."

Supervillain's breath stutters to a halt in their chest at the despair in their voice. Hero's focusing on them now, only them, and Supervillain's stomach does a twist.

They let themselves be carried away and caress Hero's hair with something akin to reverence.

"So pretty," they mutter. "You're so pretty like this, Hero. Almost as if you were made for this." They close their eyes, fingers digging into Hero's roots as they struggle against their own personal desire. "But I've got your death all planned out, Hero. The city has to see you fall, do you understand?"

Hero doesn't even try to fight back their sobs, letting their head fall fully into Supervillain's grip as their body convulses.

"I have to kill you," Supervillain whispers, leaning down until their lips are brushing up against Hero's temple. "Otherwise they'll never lose hope that their hero might come back one day. They need to understand that it's all a lie, that you're just a pathetic little human, and they won't take anything as proof except your dead, broken body tossed in front of the community center for all to see."

They pull Hero in again, their cheek pressing into Supervillain's shoulder. Their breath tickles the skin on Supervillain's throat, a spasmodic gasp speckling their collar with bloody saliva.

"The disillusionment of an entire nation. Your death will be the death of hope around the world.” Supervillain sighs softly, savouring the raw pleas spilling forth from Hero’s lips while they still can. “You'll be my magnum opus, Hero."

[baseballbitch116]

MOBILE MASTERLIST - @BASEBALLBITCH116

Links to every imagine I have written - this is an 18+ blog

I am also on Wattpad - baseballbitch116 - most of this content can be found there as well

* = Sexual content

Updated last - 4/20/20

The Walking Dead:

When They’re Jealous

How They React To You Being Touchy*

When They’re Possessive*

You Die

You Run To Them During An Attack

Someone Else Kisses You

Someone Else Flirts With You

Your Child Calls Them Daddy

Mini-Series

Negan x Reader x Daryl:

Bad Guy | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6(coming soon)

Dixon Brothers x Reader:

The Dixon’s Next Door | pt 2(coming soon)

Shane Walsh:

At All Costs | pt 2 | pt 3(coming soon)

Daryl Dixon:

Sweetheart | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6

Do Better | pt 2

Daddy Daryl | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4(coming soon)

You’re Staring

Can’t Sleep

You Know You Like Me

Dating Daryl Would Include…

Drunken Fight

Wasn’t Jealous

Daryl’s Girl

Assaulted

Hit On, Literally

Claimed

Pillowtalk | pt 2

Little Things

Sing For Us

Everything You Want

Don’t Give Up

Welcoming Party

The Poncho

Meet Jesus

Reunited

Admit It

Horny Daryl*

His Shirt

Sunbathing

Night Shift

Welcome To Alexandria

Fun In The Mud

Can’t Lose Ya Too

Another Hot Day

I Can’t Help That I Love You!

A Quick Run

On Watch

Mistletoe*

Don’t Leave Me

Aphrodite Beat Yer Ass

Scars & Stretch Marks

Tattoos

Hurts So Good

Newborn

Negan:

Weakness

Dating Negan Would Include…

I Love You

Anxiety Attack

That Ass

Pickles

Everything You Want

The Blizzard

Fireworks*

It’s Happening

You’re Religious

Shane Walsh:

Jealous*

Dating Shane Would Include…

His Family | pt 2(coming soon)

Surprises

Rick Grimes:

Dating Rick Would Include…

He Saves You

Tara Chambler:

Coming Out To Tara

Paul Rovia:

Meet Jesus

Flirt

Visit

I’ve Missed You*

Abraham Ford:

Dating Abraham Would Include…

Glenn Rhee:

Dating Glenn Would Include…

Marine

Carl Grimes:

Dating Carl Would Include…

Jeffrey Dean Morgan:

Treat You Better

Treat You Better pt 2

Treat You Better pt 3

Avengers:

When They’re Jealous…

How they Kiss You

Eating Disorder

Your Child Has A Nightmare

Tony Stark(Ironman):

Dating Tony Stark Would Include…

One Date

Someone Breaks In

Come Back | pt 2

Possessiveness

Loki Laufeyson:

Dating Loki Would Include…

Mind Games | pt 2 | pt 3*

Jealousy

Let Me Love You

You Don’t Own Me | I Belong To You*

The Mortal

Wound

My Queen

Soft Spot

Anything For You

Bucky Barnes:

Dating Bucky Would Include…

Meeting The Team

You’re Perfect

I Missed You | Protective

Attention

Beauty and The Soldier

Doctor Strange:

Thor’s Daughter

Clint Barton(Hawkeye):

Dating Clint Barton Would Include…

Damn Flirt

Dream Come True

Steve Rogers(Captain America):

Dating Steve Roger’s Would Include…

Someone Breaks In

Safe

The Dare

Something New

Bruce Banner(Hulk):

Dating Bruce Banner Would Include…

Thor Odinson:

Dating Thor Would Include…

Thor’s Daughter

Pumpkin Carving

Pietro Maximoff(Quicksilver):

Dating Pietro Maximoff Would Include…

Nice Fighting

Peter Parker(Spiderman):

You’re A Painter

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals:

How They Kiss You | pt 2

Dominant or Submissive

Morning After

Who They’re Jealous Of

Texting | pt 2

How You Sleep

Stefan Salvatore:

Dating Stefan Would Include…

Paul Wesley:

Action

Damon Salvatore:

Cute Moment (blurb)

Goddess | pt 2?

Klaus Mikaelson:

Dating Klaus Would Include…

She’s Mine

Groceries(blurb)

The Big Bad Hybrid | pt 2 | pt 3(coming soon)

Elijah Mikaelson:

Can’t Sleep

Presents | pt 2*

Enzo:

Dating Enzo Would Include…

Teen Wolf:

Peter Hale:

Bait

Narnia

Peter Pevensie:

Fate | pt 2

The Hunger Games:

When They’re Jealous

Peeta Mellark:

Can’t Be Together

The Twilight Saga:

Nighttime(Cullen’s)

Nighttime(Wolf Pack)

Cuddling

How You Met

Jasper Hale:

Bruises

Try

Moody

Losing Control

Undeniable Feelings

The First Time**

Paul Lahote:

Run | Chapter Two(coming soon)

Protective

Possessive

Paul’s Imprint

I Need You*

Kitty Kitty

Warm*

Sam Uley:

Alpha’s Imprint

Jacob Black:

Imprinted

I Could Get Used To This

Emmett Cullen:

My Hero

Edward Cullen:

Rainy Day

Seth Clearwater:

Dating Seth Includes…

Law & Order: SVU:

Fake Boyfriend

Rafael Barba:

Protective

Possessive

Another Late Night

Taking Care Of Him

I Missed You*

Sonny Carisi:

William Lewis

Bait

Undercover

Misunderstandings

I’ve Missed You*

Nick Amaro:

Nick Flirting With You

Mike Dodds:

Dating Mike Would Include…

Fin Tutuola:

Coffee?

Harry Potter:

George Weasley:

Thanks Malfoy

Brothers

Behave

Christmas Surprises

Fred Weasley:

Not So Identical

Divergent:

Eric:

He Gets Jealous

Respect

Respect part 2**NSFW

Insecure

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles(2016):

How You Meet

Emotional S/O

Unwind

Stretch Marks

Leonardo:

He Realizes He Likes You

In Heat*

Relaxation

Weakness

Raphael:

Flirting | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

“He Likes Her!!!”

In Heat*

Donatello:

How You Meet part 2

Help Me

Protected | part 2

Sleep

Treats

School

Anniversary*

Michelangelo:

No Noise*

You’re Okay Now

The Expendables:

Barney Ross:

Your Ex Hurts You

Welcome Back

Lee Christmas:

Your Ex Hurts You

Boss Problems

Christmas Fights

Gunner Jensen:

Your Ex Hurts You

Don’t Die On Me

Can We Cuddle?

Ticklish

Mine*

Impractical Jokers:

How They Act When They’re Jealous

You Try To Leave Him

Whipped

He Proposes

Protective

Sal Vulcano:

Sal’s “Punishment”

Losing A Challenge For You

Coming Home

You’ve Split Up & He Sees You With Someone Else

Brian(Q)Quinn:

He Misses You

When He First Saw You

You Split Up & He See You With Someone Else

He Defends You

5 Seconds Of Summer:

You’re Not Dating But He’s Jealous

You’re Not Dating But He’s Jealous Part 2

What He’s Like In Bed**NSFW

Eminem:

Who’s He?

It’s My Job! 

[thetomorrowshow]

i will make the sky collapse

Next - Read on AO3!

A/N: Hi, and welcome to my first ever fic for the Newsies fandom! This fic focuses on Crutchie’s time in the Refuge and will be six chapters long. Eac chapter will be cross-posted on my AO3. Content warnings will be posted at the beginning of each chapter, but this whole fic will be full of violence and angst.

CW: blood, intense scenes of violence, non-descriptive (but for sure uncomfortable) references to past deaths of children, a rat is eaten

~

There were only two boys who were by the entrance when they hauled in the new kid. Bart and Twig, eleven and thirteen respectively, were meant to be scrubbing the floor in the hall at that time, on punishment and missing whatever scraps had been scrounged up and thrown to the other kids.

News traveled uncommonly slow in the Refuge, but it was barely an hour before everyone knew. It was even less when Harley heard of it. By that time, there were already rumors spreading--some said the newcomer was barely three feet tall and no more than a sack of bones, others claimed they’d seen him walk in at a proud six feet and show himself to Snyder’s office. One thing that everyone could agree on, though, was that the kid was a newsie. Harley was sure that this kid was just like any other poor nobody who got thrown in here, but he’d have to wait until after his orientation was properly over to assess the boy.

The Refuge needed leadership, and that job had been Harley’s since Spud was freed a month before. Without a kid to keep them in line and hand out hope, the boys turned on each other, snarling and biting like they were no better than Snyder himself. The first month they hadn’t had any fight-related deaths was under Spud’s rule, and the kids were generally happier for it. With someone in charge, they had a person who would listen, a person they could blame, a person who would stop them from killing each other. Right now, that was Harley.

The kids got something else out of it too--ranks. It was amazing how much someone’s morale could be lifted just by telling them they were the treasurer, or the secretary, or the first mate. Every boy in the Refuge had a position, and each one played at pretend business like their lives depended on it--which they did. It was nice to have them cooperative, instead of nasty like they’d been before. 

Working together was better than working for oneself, but it had made it harder in some ways. Just last week, they’d lost six-year-old Mark to pneumonia. If Mark hadn’t been assistant to the war general, nobody would have cared or noticed. Now they cared too much, held a service in the middle of the night with a nicked candle, and averted their eyes from his bunk that was too big to be empty at a time when they were already squished three to a bed.

Now, though, whispers were traveling through the hundred-some kids that were scrubbing at the endless grime around the building. “Newsie,” Harley heard, and “Jack Kelly.” That one came filled with wonder, excitement even. Jack Kelly was the only one of them to get out and come back with help. Jack Kelly was the kindest guy anyone had ever known. What did he get out of stealing clothes and food, then risking his own skin just to bring it to them? Nothing, but he did it anyway. And he was from before the camaraderie of hierarchy, so he really didn’t have any reason.

It was possible that the new kid knew him, but Harley wasn’t about to be caught pinning all his hope on some random boy. It wasn’t like Jack Kelly was going to break everyone out of the Refuge for one kid.

Most everyone was outside today, digging endlessly with calloused hands as the sun beat down on them. There was no purpose to the holes, other than graves. Mostly they just dug them up and then filled them back in, though it had been only last month when a guard had pushed in Justin and made them fill it up over him. Justin had been sick, though. He was going to die anyhow.

Harley tried to wipe over his eyes, only succeeding in mixing more dirt with his sweat. He hated the hours spent with the splintering shovels--they all did--but it was better than the chemical water used to clean inside. He’d had to give up a couple of meals to save Stink, who had been forced to swallow a mouthful of it by a guard.

Speaking of guards, one left the building, quite literally dragging the new kid behind him. Harley made a pretense of shoving his dirt into a neater pile, watching carefully. The boy was average-sized, maybe blonde, face too covered in blood to really tell anything else. Harley felt a slight sense of relief. A broken nose was a rite of passage here that most got from Snyder or a guard, but some (like Harley himself) had dodged it only to wake up his first night to a circle of preteens ready to sock him.

There was no real way of discerning that this kid was a newsie, other than the fact that his clothes looked a bit nicer than most of those here. Still, that didn’t mean anything. Without a newsboy cap, Harley wondered where the rumor had come from.

The guard dropped him by the two spare shovels and growled something at him, likely a command to get to work. Some of the other boys had stopped to look around at him, so Harley made a show of dropping into his hole and digging vigorously.

After an hour or so, he risked a couple of glances around. Three guards were watching them lazily, occasionally smacking a boy for working too slow. The new kid was far too slow, though, and as a result, was targeted by the guards. Harley looked away when he heard a stifled cry from his dig spot, not too far from his own. There was nothing he could do to help right now.

Eventually, though, the new boy had been beat to the ground and wasn’t getting up. Most everyone had paused in their work, glancing at him, then away, then back as two of the three thugs kicked at the boy. Dry, rasping breaths came from him, and once again, Harley turned away, back to his own backbreaking work. He’d learn soon enough that he couldn’t stay down.

But he didn’t, and less than ten minutes later, Harley was watching again. He saw as a guard stomped on the kid’s leg, earning a muffled whine, and wondered--oh. There was something wrong with his leg, he realized, as he saw how twisted the foot was. He couldn’t stand, no matter how badly the guards threatened him.

And now that Harley had noticed, he could understand the words the boy was choking out.

“My crutch, please,” he whimpered. “I ain’t gonna be able ta work without it, please, I can work, I just needs my crutch. . . .”

“Jump,” one of the guards taunted. “Jump, and we’ll let ya have it!”

The kid struggled to get up, wiping at the tears that were making the dried blood on his face run again. He couldn’t even stand, though, let alone jump. The guards kept kicking him back down, pushing him into the shallow dent he’d managed to dig so far, mocking him with the same words. It turned into a threat--”Jump, you’ll jump if ya know what’s good for you!”--then to a compromise--”Just one little jump, and we’s leavin’ you alone for the rest o’ the day.”--to a dream--”Jump, crip, and we’ll let ya go tonight!”

But the boy couldn’t jump. He couldn’t stand. Harley watched, sick, as the boy’s eyes slid closed and his grimace hardened as the guards kept whaling on him. Then he turned away again. He couldn’t worry about some new boy with no name. He had to keep his clan strong.

Eventually, the thugs got bored of beating up a kid who wasn’t responding. One of them wandered inside, the other two left to taunt Billy, and Harley let himself steal one last look at the motionless pile of rags. As he watched, the kid’s eyes flashed open and met his. Slowly, one eyelid flickered down in an unbelievable wink, accompanied by a strained grin.

That was a newsie, for sure. The rest of the kids on the street had learned to never smile years ago. Harley looked away for the last time and got back to his work. He couldn’t waste time if he didn’t want the same fate.

-

The guards hated this kid, dragged him to the cellar instead of to the bunks for the half loaf of bread that had to be divided up between them all. One less mouth to feed, he rationalized. They didn’t have enough to feed themselves, let alone to spare for a new boy.

Stink managed to catch a rat, crushed with the heel of his thin shoes, and was attempting to roast it over a candle when the boy got thrown into the room. All the boys went silent at a hand from Harley, then watched the new kid as he lay, breathing heavily. Eventually, his head raised, looking around the room with watery eyes.

“What’s a guy gotta do ta get a welcome ‘round here?” he rasped. No one answered. A few of the younger ones looked to Harley, including Red, who had arrived just two days prior. After a moment, Harley nodded at Twig. Twig motioned for some other boys, all members of the welcoming committee. They were proud of their jobs, and would treat him well. They wouldn’t do anything to help him proper, but they would get him a bunk and a sip of water, and what more could a man ask for?

They boy’s name was Crutchie, they found out when Twig announced it, and he was indeed a newsie, as well as crippled. He did know Jack Kelly, and said something about a newsboy strike. He said that Snyder had taken his crutch after beating him with it, and now he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to get around at all.

The welcoming committee carried him to a bunk, which, from the gravelly protests, was apparently not much appreciated. The boys all returned to their own business, which was mostly whispering among each other or trying to get a bit of the dirt off before sleeping. Harley watched the new kid, now sitting on Mark’s old bunk, from across the stuffy room, before stepping around the huddled masses to get to him.

“Name’s Harley,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand before seeing how swollen Crutchie’s fingers were. Probably stomped on; he withdrew quickly.

“Crutchie,” the kid said with another painful smile. “You was lookin’ at me outside, huh? My face that good?”

His face was terrible, to be perfectly honest. Caked in blood and dirt, Harley could just barely see the purpling lumps on his forehead and the shallow gash along his cheek.

“Nah, I’m in charge ‘round here,” Harley answered seriously. “I’s got the job of checkin’ out the new meat.”

Crutchie frowned. “Jack says there ain’t a ‘in charge’, just kids.”

“Jack Kelly?”

Crutchie nodded, and Harley chewed on that piece of information for a moment. This kid clearly knew the guy well enough that they had spoken before. Maybe he would be worth something. He wondered how much Kelly would be willing to trade for one of his own.

“Yeah, well, things is changed since Jack Kelly was here last,” Harley answered, then left for his own bunk. He’d always wondered if he was meant to say more than that, but Spud hadn’t exactly left him with a book of instructions.

He had no place for a cripple in his ranks, but he couldn’t exclude anyone or else the guys would start doing the same to each other. Spud had always said that for unity, everyone had to feel important. He’d have to think on it.

“Stink! Gimme some o’ that,” he whispered across the room. Stink sighed and tore off a pinch of the greasy, undercooked rat and dropped it into Harley’s waiting hand. The others were clamoring for some too, but not the new kid. No, Crutchie was still laid up in the bunk, gingerly checking over himself and tearing off bits of his own shirt to wrap some of his worst wounds. There was a scarily deep cut across his ribs, surrounded with swollen bruises that were barely visible in the candlelight. Harley winced. That was ugly, especially for a kid’s first day.

Something sank in his stomach, and Harley knew. That kid wasn’t going to make it out of here. He’d be lucky to survive the week. Sure, he must’ve been a survivor to make it as a newsie, but this wasn’t the streets. This was the Refuge, and that kid was just another fly caught in the Spider’s web, about to be devoured.

[thefreakydeaky]

Call Out My name

Part Seven Title: Pretty

Characters: Negan, Reader, A stupid little prick named Rick Grimes, Garbage pail kid Daryl Dixon, Tanya and Frankie, Gregory, Mentions of Simon, Dwight,Sherri, Amber, Ezekiel, Maggie Rhee, Wives: Tanya and Frankie, and Lucille.

Summary: You belonged to him.Try as you might to pretend indifference, Negan’s very presence has awakened feelings in you that you believed had died with the old world.Is the ruthless King of the Sanctuary still human enough to fall in love?

Warnings: Language, Canon Typical Negan BS, Canon Typical Violence, A bit of gore, Angst.

Word Count: 3,557

“What did I miss?” Negan inquired as the door shut behind him.

"I dunno what you mean.” You struggled to remove your panties.

“Sin-since when do you get into cat fights?” His eyebrows raised as he watched you hop around clumsily. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Taking off my bra and panties.” You huffed pulling one arm into your dress to work open the clasps.

“Stop it.Here let me.”Negan shook his head in exasperation as he came to stand in front of you.

His long fingers gathered the soft material of your dress.He lifted it up over your head and slid it down your arm.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why are you gettin’ undressed?”

“I’m too hot for clothes.”

Negan grinned. “You sure are.”

“No.That’s not what I mean.Meant?Mean?”

“How much did you have to drink?” With one deft movement, he unclasped your bra.

He made it seem so easy.You pouted, glaring down at your exposed tummy pensively.

“I should be able to do that. I’m the one with boobs!” You complained.

Negan chuckled a smooth melodic sound.His warm hands slipped the bra straps off of your shoulders, freeing your arms, exposing your breasts.

“Panties too.” You reminded.

The hint of a smile played around his lips as he slipped the waistband of your slightly skewed underpants off of your hips.He knelt down.Something occurred to you as you watched him slide the thin fabric to your ankles.

“How come you’re home so early?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” His index finger tapped the top of your foot. “Lift.”

You leaned forward to sturdy yourself, hanging onto his leather clad shoulder as you raised your foot.

Negan unhooked your underpants from around one ankle, guided your foot back to the floor, and repeated the process with your left foot.

“Are you trying to start a mutiny of the wives or did you get bored enough in there to start shit for no reason?”

Knowing eyes looked up at you.

“I didn’t start it! Sherri did!”

“Did she now?”

“She could start an argument in an empty house.”

“You act pretty high and mighty for someone who sucks the same cock we do.” Negan quoted watching for your reaction.

“Well she does! She was being a-a-a judgey mcjudgerson!”

“A what?”

“A jerk.” You amended.

“Sherri is always “a jerk”.What was different about today?”

You frowned. “The vodka?”

“No.” He replied standing slowly back up.

“...the me?” You mumbled guiltily.

Negan cupped his hand behind his ear gazing at you expectantly.

“Me, I was different, because I got mad.”

“Mhmm.”

“I was angry so I egged her on.”

“That’s not the Y/n I know.” He admonished, taking your chin in his hand.

He tilted your face up and looked you in the eye.

“She said somethin’ mean.”

His brow furrowed. “Mean?”

“We were playing Never have I ever...”

“Mhmm...”

“And Amber said ‘Never have I ever wanted to sleep with Simon.’ Obviously I took a shot.” You recognized the spark of jealousy in his eyes.

“It’s the way the game works!”You defended. “Then Sherri said “Simon?” And I was like 'What’re you surprised?' And she said 'Not even a little.'”

Negan took a deep angry breath.

You jumped back into your case to keep him from yelling at you.

“It was the way she said it.” You emphasized.”Like like I was dirty like I was below her.”

The corner of his lip pulled back in a near snarl.

You could already see how his needless anger would play out.

“And not just me.”You back tracked, “Tanya and Frankie too! I mean how can you blame me?Honestly, she freaking implied that we were sluts or whores or-or worse just cause we’re married to you.She forgets that we’re equals and talks down to us. What was I supposed to do, let her??No no no.”

Negan ran a hand through his hair.His anger had gone down from a boil to a simmer.He struggled to adjust.

“Ugh, I knew it!You’re stuck on the Simon part.You just don’t get it.”

“You were fightin’ over another man! How the hell do you think that makes me feel?”

“It wasn’t about Simon.I was giving you context so you would know how I went from putting up with her to wanting to kick her ass.” You explained, annoyed with his one track mind.

“What the fuck is so great about that scumbag anyway? What’s got y’all so obsessed?”

You sighed loudly.

“Nobody is obsessed! Amber was making fun, cause she thinks he’s ugly.”

“At least one of my wives is smart.”

You rankled at the bitterness in his voice.

“Well I can’t tell you why Tanya and Frankie wanted to sleep with Simon! I can only tell you why I did!”

“Why did you?” He wore a guarded expression.

You rolled your eyes.

“Mostly to piss you off. He’s got the whole second man in charge thing going for him and that works for some people, but for me, it was about how mad I was at you.”

Negan blinked, processing your words.

“You wanting to sleep with Simon was about Me?”

“That’s ... one hell of an over simplification, but yes. It was.You acted like a total dickwad from the second we met to the night I almost slept with him.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you put your finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.

“Yes, me wanting to sleep with Simon was about you.Ninety-five percent of the time I was talking to him, I thought of you.”

“And the other five percent?”

“You gotta be kidding me! Is ninety-five not enough?”

“Why wasn’t it a hundred percent of the time?"

“I hadn’t had sex in years!”

“Hmm...”

You interrupted his thinking with a slow languid kiss. He kissed you back savoring your affection.

“I don’t like drama,Doll.I’ll forgive you this time.You girls got sauced after all, but don’t you go making trouble again.”

“What about Sherri?”

“Collateral damage.”

You exhaled sharply at the sympathy in his voice.

“Dwight needed to learn his place and the only way to do that without cracking open skulls was to threaten him with Lucille.”His thumb stroked over your jaw lightly.

“That doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“Sherri offered herself up in exchange for his life.That just so happened to fit my agenda.So, ‘mean’ though she may be she was telling the truth.” Negan looked down and away for a minute.The deceptively charismatic smirk he wore like armor returned to its place.

“Not for nothin’ but not one of us became a wife because we were lookin’ to put our feet up, except for Frankie.” You pointed out.

“Amber went through some really bad shit.She feels indebted to you for saving her.Tanya’s mom was sick, in a lot of pain, and needed morphine.We both know how I ended up here-“

“Sherri doesn’t know that.” He interrupted.

“That’s my point, she shouldn’t talk about what she doesn’t know.Talk shit.Get hit.Just sayin’.”

“You are impossible...Why don’t you go on and get that gorgeous bottom of yours in the shower? It’ll help you cool down.” He suggested.

“Won’t you come with me? You tried, entwining your fingers with his.

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a small regretful kiss to it.

Negan’s sigh was bone weary.

“I’d love to, Darlin’ ,but Daddy’s got work to do.” He waggled his eyebrows at you.

Your face heated at the memory of your sarcastic remark.

“It was a joke.” You groaned.

“Not to me. I think Daddy might be my favorite nick name yet.” He taunted, watching you saunter to the bathroom to start your shower.

You heard his easy laughter receding as he left you to your own devices.

Not far from The Sanctuary, a militia made up of rebel misfits made their final preparations to dethrone the self-professed king.

Once upon a pre-apocalypse time, Rick Grimes thought of himself as a simple man.There was right and there was wrong,very seldom was there anything in between.When there was, it simply meant the situation needed resolving. Once resolved it would fall into one of those two basic categories and all was well with his world again.

However, that was before the apocalypse. Before his family’s survival twisted his morality into something neither black nor white, but a stormy weather grey. The many traumatic situations, trials and tribulations he and his chosen family had faced, forced his grey morality to stain a little darker, but no crisis had pushed him so close to the edge as Negan. Abraham and Glenn, along with so many others had lost theirs lives to the violent sociopath and his merry band of murders.He’d sworn vengeance on their oppressor.Now that vengeance was finally coming to fruition.

“...Those people who use, take, and kill, to carve out the world and make it their’s and their’s alone, We end them...” His soulful blue eyes took a moment to gaze meaningfully into the face of each member of his ragtag army.

“There’s only one person that has to die tonight”His gruff voice assured them, “and I will kill him myself.”

He could see his words already taking affect, giving their anger the justification of righteousness and their thirst for savior blood conviction.Rick kept watching, patiently as Ezekiel roused them with brotherhood and as Maggie Rhee gave them hope.Unlike Negan, it gave him no pleasure to manipulate minds like this.The ends he reminded his conscience would justify the means.

For the greater good!

His inner voice declared.He accepted the words as gospel.

The caravan barreled through the fences taking the few saviors, who weren’t out checking the far perimeter, by surprise. Four shots were fired into the air breaking up an impromptu meeting Negan was having with Hilltop’s incompetent leader.He and his men strolled out onto the platform to gauge the situation.

“Well I’m sorry” Negan apologized insincerity in his voice. “I was in a meetin’’.”

Upon laying eyes on Gregory, Rick Grimes snorted.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Negan’s sharp eyes roved over the caravan of misfit warriors, taking in the army, the battle ready vehicles, their many firearms. All of this would not have given him pause, except for one thing, the determination and fury on their faces.

“Now, I don’t see a reason why we should have us a shoot out,” He snarked, wondering anxiously if you were at the window of his bedroom right now.

Hoping you had heard the warning shots and taken cover, he resumed his performance.

“I have to look out for the safety of my people. I can’t let myself get wrapped up in playing cops and robbers just because you want to find out if my dick is really bigger than yours.” He paused like a comedian building suspense before a punchline, “It is.”

He smiled confidently. “We all know it.”

“This isn’t a game.” Rick Grimes intoned, his solemn countenance causing Simon to mutter an epithet under his breath. “This is a reckoning and your time has come.”

The shoot out that followed was a chaos of ricochetting bullets, screams of pain, and shouted orders. Minutes passed like seconds. Simon called out to Negan, they had reinforcements coming.

As it turned out, so did Rick Grimes.Of all the surprises Negan imagined the colonies to have under their sleeves, not being able to count on his silver tongue to buy time or get him out of such an impossible bitch of a situation wasn’t one, the colonies using the entirety of their separate communities, young and old, wasn’t one, and a heard of the dead filtering into his God damn Sanctuary sure as fuck wasn’t one.

Rick the Prick’s first spray of bullets missed Negan by a second.He dove out of the way and down a flight of stairs. When he reached the bottom he was a little worse for the wear, but his body was still in one piece.He was also resourceful enough to pick up the gun of a fallen Savior and stay out of the crosshairs for a bit.

His brain went into survival mode, pushing him to shoot back, pulling him back behind the dumpster before he could get himself shot. Negan’s gun ran out of bullets all too soon.

“Sonuvabitch!” He ground out, running to the nearest port in the shit storm, a rusty old trailer.

His heart beat so damn loud, he’d forgotten how terrifying a herd could be when you had nothing, but your will to live and your flight response to get you out of it.He heard glass breaking.

Y/n

His pulse jumped in his throat.Of all the days for you to drink you had to choose today.He couldn’t bear the thought of them getting to you.They could hate him all they all wanted, he’d done his share of fucked up shit. He deserved it. What he felt he didn’t deserve was for the consequences of his actions to effect you.

Another spine chilling thought circled in his brain.

“Everyone of you go to your rooms!!”

Had he doomed you all? Like he’d doomed her? A memory of bright blue eyes and a very expressive face loomed over him ominously.

Different time.Different situation.Different woman.He told himself pushing her memory away, down deep in the coffin shaped box where he kept his grief.

A newer memory arose unbidden, He took your hand in his, kissed it softly, and looked into your eyes.All trace of bravado and falsehood dissipated as he let you see him. The real Negan and the effect one night with you’d had on him.

"Can I trust you, Y/n?”

“Yes, you can.”You laced your fingers between his.

“How can I be sure you won’t think my love for you is a weakness?”He watched your face cautiously.

“You aren’t weak.Neither am I.We have both put survival above everything else.”

You were resourceful.You were unbelievably resilient. Negan resolved to trust you to keep yourself alive.At least until he could reach you.

The trailer door blew wide open.Negan fisted the black material attached to whatever dickhead had been dumb enough to enter his refuge and pulled the door shut. The wide doe eyes of Alexandria’s creepy bald clergyman found his face in the dark.

The firing of live ammunition sounded from somewhere below you. In nothing, but a bra and a fresh pair of panties you ran to the wall of windows.Simon and a few of the saviors had taken cover and were taking their best shots at hitting something other than the corrugated steel the invaders were using as shields.Your mind went into over drive.You couldn’t see Negan out there.No sign of his black leather clad back anywhere.At least you knew he was alive.He wasn’t lying on the ground or you’d surely have seen him. A borage of bullets hit some of the panes of glass below.You dove to the ground and began crawling behind the nearest piece of furniture you could.Unfortunately, the closest was a sofa.Cushions and plywood wouldn’t be enough to keep you safe.You lay as flat against the floor as you could as the gunfire reached your floor.The cacophony out there went from loud to ear splitting within seconds.

A sharp angry pain caused you to cry out, but you weren’t willing to risk getting shot again to check the wound.Soon afterwards the shooting died down.They’re running out of ammo, you thought.They must need to make every bullet count.Your heart felt so heavy.Please Lord keep him safe.You prayed.You knew he wasn’t perfect by any means nor was he innocent, but you loved him.You couldn’t fathom a world without him.A moment of quiet passed as you reflected on your husbands many sins.You found yourself struggling to maintain your composure.You wanted so badly to fall apart, but there wasn’t time for that.There was no doubt in your mind that he would eventually come for you, but you couldn’t stay here and wait.It wasn’t safe.

You got onto your hands and knees and clambered to the closet.You cursed Negan’s stupid wives club bullshit for robbing you of your jeans.You only owned two outfits.A black dress with spaghetti straps or a white grass stained sundress.You silently fumed as you pulled the dress on.You owned exactly one pair of shoes these days and they were a pair of black flats, not made for trekking through the forest. You decided to take a pair of socks and Negan’s red kerchief from his night stand.The long tube socks you used to stifle the bleeding of your wound.You tied the kerchief around your wrist. As you left your bedroom behind, you quickly began assessing the damage.You found the parlor doors were wide open. Sherri was long gone, but Tanya and Frankie seemed to be waiting around for...something.

“He isn’t coming.” The statement left your mouth reluctantly.

You knew deep inside that he would come back, eventually. However, seeing the girls fall apart spurred you to action. “We have to go.”

“We can’t leave! We won’t make it!” Tanya cried, her eyes frantic.

“We will! We can!” They looked unconvinced.

“I’ve led a group before.” You sighed exasperated with their dithering.

Frankie’s eyes darted from the room you had just left to the parlor doors.

They’ll probably drag us out of here if we stay.” She said slowly to Tanya, “and who knows what else they’ll do to us.” She swallowed nervously.

“She’s right.” You told Tanya.”We don’t know who or what we’re dealing with here and we shouldn’t stick around to find out.”

Tanya nodded slowly accepting the dire straits you were in.Trying to ignore the fear and anxiety she was radiating, you lead them to the doors.The empty hallway was not at all inviting, but you had no choice except to slip quietly into it.Frankie and Tanya followed.There was shouting and shooting in the distance.The further you walked the closer the noises sounded.You peaked around the first corner.

An arrow whizzed toward you.You ducked back behind the wall, your breathing sharp and quick with shock.You stayed as still as possible, waiting for another arrow to come, but none did. Instead there were heavy angry footsteps.The face of a man appeared, haggard sweaty and holding a cross bow in front of him.Tanya and Frankie yelped holding each other tight.

“Weapons?” He demanded.

“W-we don’t have any.” Frankie stuttered.

“Bullshit!” He barked and demanded you put your hands up.

You complied, more for the good of the wives than for your own.Stout fingers and a large palm invasively explored any place you might be hiding a gun or knife.

“Get on the ground.”He commanded and moved on to check Frankie, then Tanya.

“Who are you?” He asked suspiciously.

“We’re...wives” Tanya sniffed between sobs.“Negan’s wives.”

He grunted more to himself than to you.Static crackled from the walkie on his belt.

“Darryl, You find anything?”

“I found the wives,”He sounded disappointed. “They’re unarmed."

“Go ahead and bring ‘em with you.”A deep voice intoned.

“Sure.”Darryl replied.

“Anyone else back there?” He nodded toward the direction you came from.

“No.” You stated evenly.

“Get up.” He grabbed onto Frankie’s arm and pushed her ahead of him.

“Ladies first.” He mocked, making you go back the way you came.

Daryl stopped at every room.Checked every space a person could possibly hide.When you got back to the parlor, he tore the place apart looking for any one hidden. He found no one. He checked the other rooms found them empty and called to someone on the walkie.

“All clear.” He informed him.

“Good.Meet us on the first floor.”

[walkerwords]

“She Keeps Me Warm” F!Reader x Tara Chambler

Summary: You had lived in Alexandria for about six months when Rick’s group arrived. The first time you meet Tara, she is everything and more. When she offers to help you search for you father who had gone missing months before, you take her up on the offer, making some new friends along the way and maybe even finding your person in the new horrible world. 

Word Count: 6948

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “She Keeps Me Warm” by Mary Lambert

Note: I don’t know why I am suddenly awful at summaries, but there you go. Essentially, I just love Tara so much and wanted to write an imagine with her. I miss her so much! I am in the process of filling another request but I wanted to post this one first. Love ya. ALSO let me know if you want to be added to my main taglist for all my stories!

-----

It had been nearly a week since you had been home.

You knew it was reckless and selfish for you to be away for so long without checking in, but any time you thought about going home, your father’s face would flash in your mind and you would tell yourself just one more day. However, as per usual, the world caught up with you and after taking a rather nasty fall and twisting your ankle, you decided to head home to Alexandria. 

You could already imagine the look on both Aaron and Enid’s faces. It would most likely be a mixture of worry and disappointment. You weren’t sure how Enid was always able to say so much with just a single look. Perhaps it was all the time she spent on her own, just trying to survive. Whatever it was, you admired her even more because of it.

When you and your father had shown up at Alexandria with Aaron around six months before, you noticed that Enid was always alone. When you had asked Aaron about the teenager, he had explained that she had been alone when she came to the gates and that all she had said was that both of her parents had been killed by the Dead. You could empathize with her as you had lost your mother and brother at the start of it all. Then when your father disappeared, it had only tightened the bond between you and the girl. She was like the little sister you never had and you would die for each other. 

As the gates of your home came into view, you breathed a sigh of relief. While you wanted to keep searching for your father, your bed and a hot shower were calling your name. As you rolled to a stop outside the gates, you honked twice, leaning out the window. 

“Open the gate, morons!” you called. The disgruntled face of Nicholas appeared as he slid open the fence. You grinned at him and he rolled his eyes. The two of you had never gotten along and you really disliked the guy. He acted as if he was invincible to the new world, but you knew that if he was ever faced with a herd of the Dead, he’d turn tail and run. Pulling your car into Alexandria, you shut off the engine and climbed out. Nicholas closed the gate behind, latching it shut. “What’s new, Nick?” you asked, leaning against the back of the car. 

“Aaron brought new people in,” he grumbled. 

“And let me guess, ya don’t like them?” you said, already knowing the answer. Nicholas was never happy when people “invaded” his home. It was most definitely the reason he didn’t like you.

“They’re arrogant and proud and the leader is some kind of psychopath,” he spat. You considered his words, trying to imagine his face as this new group strutted through the streets of ASZ. 

“They sound like my kind of people,” you grinned and he huffed, storming past you. Your eyes followed him, trying not to laugh at his immature nature when you spotted someone running towards you. You smiled even wider as Enid came jogging down the street. Her boots pounded against the pavement, her hair flew back behind her. Reaching you, she tossed her arms around you and you held her close, trying not to fall over. “Woah, easy there En, I’m operating on half a leg,” you joked.

Enid pulled back immediately, scanning you for your injury. “What’s wrong?” she asked, worried. You gripped her shoulder reassuringly. 

“Just a twisted ankle. I’m all good. Few days of rest and I’ll be back one hundred percent,” you promised. Enid gave you a small smile as she relaxed. “Grab that other bag in the back, will you?” Enid nodded and went to fetch the backpack you had loaded up with some new clothes for the both of you. You weren’t looking for supplies, but when you came across an abandoned boutique, you couldn’t help but pick up some jeans, socks, etc for your communal closet back at home. 

You hiked your own bag up onto your shoulder and then Enid was there, offering her arm as support. You gratefully slung your arm around her shoulders as you limped up the street. Enid looked at your shirt that was splashed with dark blood and wrinkled her nose. “Rough couple of days?” she asked. 

“No more than usual,” you said, shrugging off your appearance. “I heard about the new people. Anyone interesting?” 

“Haven’t really paid them any attention,” Enid said, looking at the ground. 

“Meaning you’ve observed them from afar and you don’t trust them,” you said, easily seeing through her facade. 

“They have a baby,” she said, looking back up at you, “and some of them seem nice, but I don’t know.”

“Well, Nicholas looked less than thrilled.”

“Not really surprising,” Enid scoffed. She hated Nicholas as much as you did, but she wasn’t as vocal about it as you. The two of you headed up the road, passing a few of the neighbors here and there. Since arriving, they hadn’t completely warmed up to you, but you weren’t a neighborly person before the Apocalypse and you weren’t going to start now. As you and Enid slowly made your way towards the center of town, you could see some of the new people. There were about seven of them milling around the gazebo talking to the Monroes. Deanna was explaining something to who you figured was the leader based on his stance and the way he stood at the head of his group. Aidan was by his mother’s side and Spencer looked as if he was trying to get the attention of one of the women, a pretty brunette who looked as if she’d rather lay in a pile of Dead than speak to him. 

As soon as you were in his sights, however, Spencer pushed away from the woman and walked toward you, his arms spread wide. “Well be still my heart, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has returned to us!” he bellowed, strutting towards you. 

“Gross,” Enid muttered under her breath and you had to bite your cheeks to keep from laughing. Spencer stopped in front of you and beamed down at you. 

“Spencer,” you greeted. 

“What’s wrong, you hurt?” he asked, his brow furrowed. 

“I’m fine, Monroe. Enid makes a pretty great crutch,” you joked. Spencer laughed, earning a glare from the teenager at your side. He coughed awkwardly. 

“If you need help, I could give you a lift home,” he said wagging his brows. Enid gagged and then started to pull you away from him. 

“I think we got it from here!” You called over your shoulder at him. This time you did laugh, unable to keep a straight face anymore. “That is why we don’t have friends,” you whispered to Enid. 

“We have Aaron,” she pointed out. 

“This is true,” you agreed, pulling her tighter against you. As you passed Deanna, you gave her a salute. She then ushered you towards her and you begrudgingly nudged Enid over to your leader. 

“(Y/N)!” Deanna greeted, “I’m glad you’re home.” 

“Me too,” you said as you tried to keep the weight off your bad ankle. Enid stood next to you quiet as a mouse and you squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, knowing how uncomfortable she was in social situations. 

“This is Rick Grimes,” Deanna continued, gesturing to the man in front of her. “He and his family came here a couple of days ago. They’re actually staying in the house across from yours.” She then turned to Rick, “(Y/N) is one of our best fighters and helps keep this place safe.” Rick reached out to take your hand and you met him halfway. When you let go, you glanced down at your red smeared palm. 

“Sorry about that,” you said sheepishly as you wiped the dried blood on your jeans, “I think that was from either an accountant or a really bad dressed lawyer.” A laugh came from behind Rick at your joke and you saw a very pretty brunette woman. Her dark eyes met yours and she awkwardly smiled at you. 

“Sorry,” she said to Rick, “it was funny.” Rick shook his head at his friend, clearly amused. “I’m Tara,” she said with a small wave. 

“Hey,” you greeted with a smile of your own. Turning your attention back to Rick, you grabbed your backpack strap tightly. “I’d love to talk more, but if I don’t get off this ankle soon, I’m going down and taking Enid here with me.” 

“It was nice to meet you,” Rick said and you nodded to him. Enid, gripped you tight and started to pull you towards home. 

“Bye!” Tara said as you walked away. You shot her another smile over your shoulder before disappearing around the corner. 

“I like that one,” you said to Enid who just rolled her eyes. 

------

As Rick and the others watched you and Enid leave, Aaron jogged up to the group. 

“I just made a complete fool of myself, didn’t I?” Tara asked Abraham who clapped her on the shoulder. 

“Seems that way, sugar plum!” Abraham said. Tara hid her face in her hands while Glenn patted her back in solidarity. 

“Was that (Y/N)?” Aaron asked, looking up the street. 

“She just got back,” Aidan told him. 

“How long has she been here?” Michonne asked Deanna. 

“What would you say, Aaron? Six months or so?” Deanna asked, turning to Aaron who turned his attention back to the people before him. 

“Yeah, I brought her and her father here after that big wind storm,” Aaron said, nodding. 

“Her father is here too?” Tara asked and then the Monroes and Aaron got quiet. “What?”

“He’s missing,” Aaron explained. “He went outside the walls about a month after they got here and then just never came back. That’s why (Y/N) goes out there so much. She’s looking for him.”

“He was a cop,” Spencer added, leaning against a lamppost. “She found his shield not that long ago, but that’s all the evidence we’ve seen.” 

“Didn’t nobody help her look?” Daryl asked, sizing up the older Monroe brother. 

“We did,” Spencer shot back. “But we can’t chase ghosts forever.” Aaron then shot an annoyed look at Spencer and Rick caught it immediately. 

“(Y/N) has been nothing but an asset to Alexandria since she got here,” Aaron defended. “She has saved your life twice, Spencer, not to mention how she puts everyone else before her, especially Enid.”

“Enid’s the girl?” Michonne asked, remembering Carl mentioning her at some point. Aaron nodded. 

“Enid wouldn’t talk to anyone after she got here. The girl had just lost her parents and it was hard even getting her to eat some days. Then (Y/N) had shown up and those two bonded immediately. They’re like sisters now.” 

“Aaron,” Deanna interjected, “nobody is saying she isn’t important, but you know we all worry about her.” 

“And you also know that until she finds him or a body, she’s not going to stop,” Aaron said before turning away and walking up the street towards your house. 

“Aaron is very protective of them both,” Aidan explained. Rick nodded, understanding immediately. You and Enid were his family.

———

By the time the sun set, you couldn’t take being on the couch anymore. 

Enid had gone off to do whatever she did when she disappeared either between the houses or beyond the walls. You had been worried about her at first, but soon learned to trust her to keep herself safe. You figured if she had survived all that time alone without any issues, she could handle it just fine in the surrounding woods. The only rule you had was that she had to tell you she was leaving and then get within your sights when she came back so you knew not to go trekking through the woods to find her.

Looking around the living room, you began to get annoyed with the vacant walls and pushed yourself to your feet. Shoving your feet back into your boots, you headed to the garage. You could already hear Enid’s chastising voice in your head as you ignored her earlier command of staying off your feet for the rest of the day. 

However, boredom was not something you coped with well. Pulling up the large garage door, you clicked on the light switch and began sorting through all of your supplies. Anytime you came home with food, medicine, or essentials, you always put it in the communal storage, but anything else you found that wasn’t necessarily vital to the survival of Alexandria, you kept it in the garage. 

It was mostly things you found on your way out of a place. Old records, obsolete technology, books, or even parts for cars, bikes, etc. It was like having your own thrift shop in your house and the miscellaneous items always gave you a bit of comfort. You figured it was because they all reminded you of how things used to be.

You were sorting through an old box of punk albums when you heard a knock against the side of the garage door. You turned to see Tara standing there, a small smile on her face. 

“Hi,” you greeted, setting down the record in your hands. Tara clasped her hands together, gently rocking back on her heels. 

“Hi, back,” she said and then cringed at her own words causing you to laugh. 

“I’d offer you a beer but I think all we have is half-empty water bottles,” you said, leaning against the workbench. Tara chuckled and then began walking around the garage, looking at everything you had collected. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Tara said, gesturing to your task. You waved her off. 

“Ah, I was just trying to keep my hands busy,” you said, “Couldn’t take any more of my walls staring back at me as I did nothing.” 

“How’s your foot?” Tara asked, gesturing to the bandage peeking out the top of your boot. Enid had expertly wrapped it for you when you had gotten home. 

“Bit sore, but I’ve had worse, you know?” She nodded. “And what about you?”

“Me? My foot’s fine,” Tara said, confused. You laughed again and she blushed slightly. You couldn’t help the thrill that went through you at the thought that you made this beautiful woman blush. 

“I meant, how are you doing here?” You clarified, gesturing around. “How are you settling in?”

“Oh!” Tara exclaimed, “Yeah, it’s a bit of an adjustment. We were on the road for so long and I don’t know, this is all very alien. Though, it is nice not to be looking over your shoulder every few seconds to make sure there aren’t any Walkers nearby.”

“Walkers? Is that what you call them?” You asked, intrigued. 

“Yeah, well, that’s what the others called them when I met them and it just sort of stuck.” 

“I suppose it’s a lot easier than saying Dead people or those things,” you said with a chuckle. “Walkers. I like it.” You both were quiet after that and then you coughed awkwardly as she stared at you. “Uh, Enid, she said you had a baby with you guys, how’s she or he doing?” Tara brightened at the mention of the child. 

“She’s great! Healthy as ever,” Tara said. “Her name is Judith, she’s Rick’s kid, well his other kid. There’s Carl too.”

“Two kids?” 

“Technically three with Noah, but he’s not a Grimes. He’s just a teenager we met in Atlanta a couple of weeks ago.”

“Sounds like you’ve had quite a couple of weeks,” you said, hopping up onto the table, crossing your ankles. Tara sighed as she walked over and leaned against the table next to you. 

“You have no idea…” she said, her eyes a bit far away. “Any advice for livin’ here?” Tara asked, returning her attention to you. 

“Stay away from Spencer?” You offered, causing her to laugh. 

“Oh, don’t worry, he’s not my type,” said Tara. 

“Good to know,” you said, staring down at your boots with a small smile.

-----

Once the two of you had gotten over the initial awkwardness, you found that you loved talking to Tara. She was kind, funny, and she always said what was on her mind. She had tried to walk back on some of the things she had said, but you encouraged her to never apologize for speaking her mind. 

Along with Tara, you had begun speaking with the other members of her group. Glenn was the first person to reach out and start a conversation. You had been hanging out on your front steps when he had come out of the house across the street with his wife, Maggie, and introduced himself. Maggie was kind, but you had to admit that she intimidated you. 

Then there was Michonne who had approached you about security measures. Deanna had made her and Rick constables for Alexandria. You weren’t sure why ASZ needed cops. It wasn’t as if any of the residents actually understood how the new world worked. You had explained that to Michonne, telling her that if the community was going to survive, then it’s original members needed to learn how it worked outside of the gates as well as in and breaking up petty fights and disagreements, wasn’t going to help their survival skills. She said she would take your advice to Rick and that was that. 

The only other member of Grimes’ group you had somewhat of a conversation with was the hunter, Daryl. You hadn’t meant to talk to him, but Aaron and Eric had invited him over to their house to work on the motorcycle that had sat undisturbed since before the Turn. You had tried to figure out a way to fix the damn thing, but mechanics weren’t your thing. However, Daryl Dixon was all over it. He looked at the bike like it was the Holy Grail. 

You had gone over to Aaron’s place in search of liquor when you found the redneck in the garage crouched down by the bike. “Finally,” you said, walking down the steps, getting his attention, “I was wonderin’ when someone was going to give that thing some love.” Daryl looked at you confused. “I’m (Y/N),” you said. 

“I know,” he responded. “Aaron’s friend.” 

“Is that what people call me?” you laughed making your way over to the cabinet at the other end of the garage.

“I don’t think it was meant as an insult,” Daryl said, getting to his feet.

“Never said it was,” you said, throwing him a wink over your shoulder. You opened the cabinet and pulled out a tucked away bottle of whiskey. Aaron and you had stashed them throughout both of your houses in places that both Enid and Eric wouldn’t be able to find. It had sort of become your inside joke, but you were pretty sure Enid knew about your hiding spots.

Cracking the top, you took a long pull. You then offered the bottle to Daryl. He hesitated for a second before shrugging and taking the bottle from you. He took a single sip and then handed it back. Daryl went back to the bike and you hung out for a bit longer. 

It took you a bit to get him to start talking, but when he did, he wanted to know about ASZ and if it was what it seemed. You explained that it was safe and as organized as it could be, but you made sure to tell him not to drop his guard. “Nothing lasts forever and nothing is perfect,” you said to him. He said he'd pass along the message to Rick and the others and then you left, leaving him to his bike, figuring you had bothered him enough. 

———

The next time you got Tara alone, she was sitting on the steps of Rick’s house. You were coming back from the armory when you noticed her. Her focus was on her feet as she played with a stray piece of grass. She looked up when your boots entered her line of sight. 

“Someone is thinking hard,” you said, crossing your arms. 

“Not really,” she said, smiling at you. 

“Want some company?” You asked and she slid over, offering you space next to her. “But really, what is going on in that head of yours?”

“Glenn got into with Aidan today,” she said and you nodded. You had heard the commotion earlier, but you figured you should stay out of it and went to help Jessie fix lunch for Sam. You weren’t really surprised though, Aidan was a hothead. 

“What was the fight about?” You asked. 

“Aidan is an idiot and Glenn called him out on it,” she said, looking towards the setting sun. 

“Yeah, that sounds about right. Let me guess, Aidan and Nicholas were playin’ with Walkers again.” Tara smiled at your use of the word “Walker” and then nodded. 

“So, that wasn’t the first time?”

“Nah,” you shook your head, “Found those two idiots doing it a few months ago. Playing with it like it was some kind of animal. I shot it in the head before they could screw with it any further.” Your firsts curled in your lap as you remembered. “They’re not just some thing, you know? They used to be people and the best mercy we can give them is to put them down.” 

“Your dad?” Tara asked, guessing where you head is at. 

“He was a cop, you know? A detective.”

“Yeah, I heard that,” Tara whispered. “Rick was a cop too.” That made you laugh. 

“I can see that,” you said, playing with your fingers. “I’m not delusional,” you told her, looking into her dark eyes, near pleading. 

“I know,” she said. 

“I know he’s probably dead, but I just want to find him if I can. I owe him that much. I just want you to know that I’m not holding out hope that he’s still alive out there.” 

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Tara asked. You gave her a small smile and reached over and squeezed her arm. 

“No, I guess not,” you whispered. 

“Well, next time you go out to look for him, come knock on my door,” Tara said, placing her hand over yours. 

“You don’t have to do that,” you said. 

“I lost my dad too,” Tara explained, “and my sister and my niece. I know what it’s like to lose people, but I know what happened to them. You don’t know and you deserve answers.”

“Thank you, Tara,” you said and you couldn’t ignore the fluttering in your chest as she smiled at you. Her dark hair blew in the slight breeze and with the sun slowly setting over the trees, she looked incredible. At that moment there was really only one thing you wanted to do, but of course, the universe had other plans. 

Enid came jogging down the street and the look on her face was enough for you to pull your hand away from Tara. “En?” You called. She looked at you and the stress on her face had you turning to Tara. 

“Go,” she simply said with a wink. You placed your hand on her shoulder quickly before crossing the street to Enid. You approached her and it looked as if she wanted to either punch something or lay in bed for a week. 

“Let me guess,” you said, “Ron?” Enid just nodded and you took her by the arm and led her inside, ready to listen to her teenage drama and if needed, tear a strip off a teenage boy. 

———

It was a couple of weeks before you took Tara up on her offer to accompany you outside the walls. 

Enid was going with you this time as well. She had been trying to convince you to take her on your searches for months now. It was only after she made her case that she would just follow you anyways that you decided to let her tag along. When you two went to meet Tara, she wasn’t alone at the gate. Daryl, Glenn, and Michonne were all geared up as well. 

“Are we havin’ a party?” you asked, approaching Tara. She smiled sheepishly. 

“They wanted to help and I figured more sets of eyes are better than just three,” Tara said. “You don’t mind, do you?” Tara was looking at you with worry, afraid she had overstepped, but you were touched by the sentiment. Leaning forward, you kissed her on the cheek quickly. 

“Not at all,” you said with a grin and moved past her to go open the gate. Glenn bit his lip to stop himself from laughing at the pure shock that had taken over Tara’s face. As Daryl went to get on his bike, the rest of you headed for one of the larger cars. You were going out a bit further this time. Closer to where your father had first disappeared.

You had been staying closer to ASZ in your search. If something had happened to him, you figured it was on the way back home and that you’d come across him, but so far there hadn’t been a sighting. “There’s a shopping complex about an hour North,” you said to Daryl who was going to lead on his bike. “It’s a straight shot up the freeway and turn off on exit 7B. The sign should still be there.” 

“Alright, just hit the horn if ya need somethin’,” Daryl said as he straddled the motorcycle. He offered his fist and you tapped yours to it. 

“Let’s get going before Spencer decides to show up,” you said, ushering everyone into the car. Daryl revved his bike and rolled out of Alexandria. You started the engine and the rest of you followed, waving to Eugene who was waiting to shut the gate behind you. 

The ride was silent at first. Enid sat next to you in the passenger seat, reading one of her comics. Tara sat in the back between Glenn and Michonne, kicking her feet up on the center console. It was like a really weird scene out of a road trip movie. After a few more miles, Glenn started to ask questions. 

“So what is up with that Spencer guy?” he asked, leaning forward.

“He’s annoying,” Enid commented. 

“True,” you said, agreeing. “I don’t know, Glenn, he’s just the kind of guy that is used to getting everything? I guess the end of the world just made that impossible. Typical trust fund boy unable to be better than everyone else.” 

“If he’s anything like his brother then he’s not going to last long,” Glenn said. 

“At least Aidan is man enough to leave Alexandria. Spencer rarely leaves and when he does, I don’t think he’s ever fired his weapon, let alone killed Walkers,” you explained. 

“He afraid?” Michonne asked. 

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. “Though, to be honest, I don’t know him all that well.”

“(Y/N) mostly avoids him,” added Enid. You nodded in agreement. 

“Also true.” 

“And Deanna has been in charge the whole time?” Tara asked. 

“Yeah as far as I know,” you nodded to her in the rearview mirror. “I think people just like to feel some sense of normalcy, you know?”

“Nothin’ normal about the world now,” Tara said. 

“Don’t I know it,” you said, bumping her foot with your elbow playfully. 

“Where were you before Alexandria?” Glenn asked. 

“Here and there,” you said, “We moved around a lot. Never trusted people and it was always our luck that Walkers felt the need to herd up near us. I think the longest place we stayed in was an old movie theater just outside of Augusta. We were with a small group of people for a bit before we had to move on.” You could remember the look on your dad’s face when you had found that particular safe haven. He had thought it was a sign because of all the times you two had enjoyed going to the movies together. It was one of the last places you felt safe before Alexandria. 

“Didn’t you sleep in the Aquarium?” Enid asked and you started laughing. 

“That I did, En,” you said, remembering that particular night. “Word of advice my new friends, when the world goes to shit nobody is there to feed the animals and the tanks smell worse than an entire herd of Walkers.” Glenn howled in laughter at that while Michonne looked a little sick. 

The rest of the ride to the shopping center was surprisingly pleasant. Even Enid was joining in on the random chatter that was going on in the car. As you drove, you kept your eye on Daryl ahead of you, easily maneuvering the broken up roads. You couldn’t believe that a bunch of strangers were willing to help you look for your father. It had been months of searching and you weren’t even sure if he was out there walking around. He could have easily fallen victim to the Walkers themselves. The thought that you were only going to find pieces of him made you feel sick. 

Gripping the wheel tighter, you focused on the tail light of the motorcycle and just kept going. 

------

Arriving at the shopping mall, Daryl suggested you all stay together. 

Considering you didn’t want to be alone in the first place, you easily agreed. Walking through the many stores, you all took out Walkers that stumbled towards you. It was becoming routine to kill the monsters and it was as if your group was running on autopilot. Daryl always kept his bow loaded and Michonne kept her hand on her sword at all times. 

You made sure to keep Enid close to you and if it bothered her, she didn’t say anything. If anything were to happen to her, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself. She was the only family you had right now and you were determined to keep her alive at any cost.

About halfway through the mall, you were getting more frustrated. Blood was splashed over everything and you knew that something horrible had happened in the mall at the beginning of the Turn. You could easily imagine the screams and all of the people running as Walkers converged on the building. It must have been something akin to a horror film, you figured. 

Leaning against the railing of the second floor, you looked down towards an old sporting goods shop. With the smashed windows and blood trails, you knew it was probably one of the first places hit. Hell, even you and your dad had raided multiple shops on your way through Georgia. That thought alone made you straighten up. 

Pulling your gun from your holster, you headed for the escalator. “(Y/N)?” Enid called, but you ignored her, nearly jogging towards the metal staircase. You could hear the others following you, but you kept moving. Slipping over fresh blood and the occasional body part lodged in the mechanisms, you flew down the escalator.

Approaching the sporting goods shop, you froze, staring at the entrance. Someone had barricaded the main doors with displays and random pieces of furniture. The way the chairs were stacked and how the tables were resting so the legs were faced outwards told you everything.

Your dad had been the one to set this up. 

Emotions overtook you as you rushed forward, pulling at the barricade, your hands manic, and your breathing hard. More sets of hands joined you in dismantling the barrier. You kicked out at the different supports and finally made a hole big enough to fit through. You wasted no time in squeezing through and raising your weapon. Enid followed you with the others right behind. Walking through the aisles, you kept your gun handy, ready to fire on anything that came at you. 

You could hear Daryl knocking his knife against the wall trying to draw any Walkers out, but all remained silent. That is until you reached the back of the store. It was quiet at first. It almost sounded like it was farther away, but as you moved closer, the groaning noise increased. A part of you wanted to turn and run and not look at whatever was behind the fishing rod display. However, you knew that if you didn’t look, you would never get the sound of the groaning out of your head.

You slowly handed your pistol to Enid and unsheathed your blade. It felt as if your feet were made of lead as you crept towards the noise. Keeping your breathing steady, you stepped around the broken display. 

Your heart dropped out of your chest and your knees buckled at the sight. “No…” you gasped as your knees hit the floor. Sitting before you, half chained to multiple chairs with clouded eyes and a snapping jaw was your father. A sob escaped your throat as he struggled against his restraints. Based on how he was chained, you knew he had done it himself. Looking closer you could just make out a deep bite mark on the side of his neck. “Dad…” you whispered, reaching for him.

“Careful, (Y/N),” Glenn whispered behind you. You pulled your hand away and then dug into the pocket of your jacket, producing a detective’s shield on a chain. 

“I’m so sorry, Dad,” you said, letting the tears flow more. You moved closer to him, keeping an eye on his gnarled fingers that pawed at your clothing. You raised your knife and tried to see any of the colors in his long-dead eyes, but all that stared back at you were two empty white irises. He reached for you again and you shoved him back, trying not to think about his crumbling skin under your hands. “I’m okay, Dad,” you told him. “I have a new family now and remember Enid? She’s my person now, you know? We’re looking out for each other. I promise.” Your tears dripped onto his body as you held him back. “You can go be with Mom now and Tyler, they need you more. I love you so much.”

Lifting the knife above your head, you let yourself look at him once more before plunging it down into his brain. He went limp immediately in your arms. Removing the blade, you then took the shield and looped it around his neck. “I’m gonna be okay,” you whispered and then fell forward, sobbing. Enid was there in a second, wrapping her arms around your back and holding tight. All you could hear was your own crying and Enid’s soothing voice. 

You stayed like that for many moments, trying to grasp what was happening. You finally looked up as Daryl came toward you with a tarp in his hands. “We can bring him back,” Daryl said, kneeling down to your level. “Bury him properly.” You nodded, unable to speak. Daryl then gestured to the others and Tara was at your side helping Enid get you to your feet as Glenn, Michonne, and Daryl unchained your father’s body and wrapped him in the makeshift shroud. 

You watched as Daryl and Glenn lifted your father’s body from the ground and carried him from the store. Michonne followed, carrying the crossbow and her sword. Enid and Tara never let you go as you followed them. You didn’t even remember getting back to the car. You could hear Daryl starting his bike as the body was loaded into the trunk. You sat between Enid and Tara in the backseat while Glenn drove with Michonne in the passenger seat. Enid held your hand all the way home, but you could feel Tara leaning into you as well. Halfway home, your other hand found hers and she gripped yours tight. You were right, you had found your new family.

-----

When you returned to Alexandria, your mood was soured further as Spencer was the one to open the gate.

“You need to tell people when you leave, (Y/N),” he said as you followed Enid out of the car. 

“Back off, Monroe,” Glenn said, pushing past him towards the back of the car. Spencer then noticed how you looked nearly dead on your feet. 

“What happened?” he asked, but became completely silent as he watched Daryl and Glenn haul the body from the trunk. “Oh.” 

“Where’s Aaron?’ you whispered, keeping your eyes lowered. 

“Home, I think,” Spencer said. You nodded and moved past him. When Enid tried to follow you, you put out your hand. 

“I just need to see him alone, okay,” you said and she nodded, stepping back. You didn’t say anything further as you headed towards Aaron’s house. On the walk over, you couldn’t shake the images out of your head. Walkers were not a rare thing. You saw them every time you left Alexandria, but you had never seen someone you knew turn. At least not anybody close. The fact that he chained himself up to keep from hurting people hurt even worse. Even in death, your father was trying to be a hero. 

Arriving at Aaron’s, you climbed the steps and didn’t bother knocking. You moved through the house, finding him sitting on the couch in the living room. Eric was nowhere to be found. “Hey, you,” Aaron greeted, looking up from his book. He then saw the tears on your face and tossed the book aside. “What happened?”

“He’s gone,” you choked out and then fell into the spot next to him on the couch. 

“Oh, honey,” Aaron whispered as you lay down, your head resting in his lap. You cried as he smoothed his hands over your hair. 

“We brought him home,” you whispered. Aaron, gripped you tight as he mourned the man as well. He had immediately liked your father and the two of them had instantly fallen into comfortable conversations when Aaron had brought you back all those months ago. “We’re gonna bury him inside the walls.” 

“I think that will be nice,” Aaron said. “Maybe we can ask Father Gabriel to say something. You mentioned your dad was really religious, right?” you nodded. “And I can as Rick to help with a small funeral.” 

“Rick?” you asked, confused. 

“Well, he was a cop so he knows how funerals for law enforcement work,” Aaron explained. 

“Dad wasn’t really a detective anymore,” you whispered. 

“Still, he deserves to have a funeral. You do so much for this place, (Y/N), let us do this for you. For both of you.” You nodded and then held him closer as the emotional fatigue finally took you over. It wasn’t long before you slipped into the darkness and fell asleep, dreaming of the good days with your dad.

----

It was night by the time you woke up. 

Eric had lightly shaken you awake, mentioning Enid had been looking for you. He had kissed your cheek and told you he’d look after Aaron as always and then offered you his condolences. You hugged him and then headed home. After sleeping and your talk with Aaron, you were feeling a bit better, but you knew it was going to take some time. However, you were grateful that you had finally found him and gotten the answers you craved so much. 

If there was anything good to come out of all this, it was the knowledge that he was finally at rest and you didn’t need to worry anymore. That thought alone made you take a deep breath and tilt your head to the sky, feeling the cool air. It smelled like it was going to rain soon. 

As you approached your home, someone was waiting for you on the porch. More tension exited your body as you saw that it was Tara. “Hi,” she said softly. You joined her on the steps and smiled to yourself as this began to be a regular thing. “How are you doing? Or is that a stupid question?”

“I’m...managing,” you said. “I guess all the emotions took me by surprise. Maybe because I never expected to actually find him.”

“I’m sorry you had to find him like that,” Tara said. 

“New normal, right?” you asked, wiping at your tears that never seemed to stop. 

“I wish it didn’t have to be,” said Tara. You turned to look at her and in the moonlight, she looked...ethereal. Reaching up, you tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, letting your fingers linger on her skin. 

“Thank you for being with me today. Meant a lot,” you said. Tara reached up and took your hand in hers, folding it between both of hers. She then raised your hand to her lips and kissed the back of it. You sighed at the contact. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” she whispered, looking into your (Y/E/C) eyes, and then she seemed timid. 

“You are really something else, Tara Chambler,” you said, leaning in towards her. Tara met you halfway and as you pressed your lips to hers, warmth spread from your head to your toes. The kiss was quick, but it felt right. Pulling back you smiled at her softly. Tara wrapped her arm around your shoulder and you fell into her embrace. Tara ran her hand over your arm as she held you. 

At that moment as you mourned your father, you found something full of light to hold onto amidst all of the darkness and she was so beautiful.

TAGS: @thanossexual​ 

[grim-faux]

24_Fog and its Prisms

First

 The recent events left him parched of vigor and spirit. He’s not particular with his selection of lodging, so long as the atmosphere is relatively soothed and he can tolerate the area over, his minimal needs are met. Though he will take precautions to insure he is not disturbed, but that will come later.

 And the child. A chore he was not prepared to manage.

 The room was sparse but dry, some concerning infrastructure weaknesses dealt with utilizing his own meddling. None of the few windows it sported faced the Tower, a few rooms are available to make use of but his needs are minimal. He makes certain no other occupants are present in the resident space, before selecting the one room with a piece of furniture. Some clothing remained abandoned in the dresser, thus that is where he left Mono. The door is left ajar, and he returned to the front room to ensure the entry door is jammed tight.

 There resided no televisions in this area, but Viewers become desperate in their relentless roaming. Some will throw themselves out of windows in blind devotion to escape.

 With the room secured overall, he stepped back against a wall facing the main door and slipped down to sit. The ordeal had taken a great wealth of energy to channel and focus. He needed some quiet, some empty thoughts. He hated sleeping, that never stopped, especially in the tower. Time blurred, sometimes he couldn’t tell if he was awake or lost in the waking nightmares. His world became nothing but a blistering memory, reminding him how unwanted he was.

 It isn’t equivalent to rest as it is trying to process what had happened, try and internalize the strange, failed struggle of the child. The Thin Man does doze, but it’s not fulfilling, nor are there dreams or nightmares. He would prefer it stay that way.

 He does not know what to do with the child. He cannot recall what he initially sought, let alone his motives. The intent might have been to verify the boy was staying out of dire situations, or to understand what had happened when the smaller had returned to his own ways. The Thin Man reminded himself, the child saw fit to resume his perilous existence in the hostile world. That was the nature of children.

 An adult could never be tolerated, and that was fair. He was gratified by the boy’s suspicion, his tenacity for eluding danger.

 Yet, it became a nuisance he wouldn’t tolerate. The last time Mono was in this state, it was due to his reluctance for abandoning the man in a hat. That was no mistake. Yet, it was idiocy to place himself in that state. Fool, reckless, brat.

 For the better part of a week, the Thin Man remained at the entry door, legs bent up and long arms loosely draped over his knees, with his fingertips pressed together. He needed to leave, he needed to do something more productive. But there came a lingering fear he may not have the strength to return.

 If the child was all right, then he existed. That was the sum of it.

 In a slow and deliberate uncoil, he physically stood up. No flash or flicker. The Thin Man pushed himself from the wall and went to the door. He doesn’t entertain the thought of checking the child first, there was no point. The child could already be long gone ages ago.

 When he shut the main door at his back, it latched tight. Nothing could enter. Though, it wouldn’t be impossible for the boy to escape; the residence had many broken windows, and the child had methods.

 A few days later, the Thin Man did return. After patrolling the city over and gathering some supplies, he felt more fortified to face the room where he left the child. Perhaps it was unfair to wager that regardless intent or neglect, the boy would remain unharmed. The child was not unfathomable, he was only child, and unfortunately he existed. How cruel it was to expect otherwise.

 The only light of the room came from the window there. As ever, radiance didn’t benefit nor impede his capacities. He inched over to the dresser and peered into the clothing. If Mono had moved at all since he was laid there, the Thin Man wouldn’t know. How long had it been, since he set him down? What was the cause of this dormancy? Was it the fall? Or….

 He swaddled the child in a shirt and took him to another room, with a desk and chair set. The kitchen had clean bowls, and he pilfered some light material from the dresser room. Suitably armed, he returned to the back room and began ripping the cloth into thread thin streamers for practical use.

 He only planned to clean the child’s face of grime and blood. It looked ghastly, the blood plastered and flanking across his neck and cheek. Thankfully though, and despite how small his head was, he spied no tears in his scalp. Though it was concerning, if the blood was from within his ear, he was sorely outclassed to examine for damage.

 There was never a doubt the boy was utterly out, yet somehow it was so surreal inspecting the echo of his old reflection. No frowns and glares to spell out the measure of displeasure, just complete passive oblivion. There was something so inherently wrong with that.

 Once the face was cleaned to the best of his ability, he took the bowl and changed it out for some fresh water. He had an idea of what was beneath the bandages, after chancing a glimpse through the pronounced tatters, but he was unwilling to let it alone. With extreme delicacy, he managed to extract Mono from his faithful coat – a treasure the boy would not doubt need preserved.

 The rags Mono used for medical wraps were so frayed, it was an easy matter of ripping them undone. As suspected, the cut on his arm was not perilous, but it was no redundant nick. Applying the fresh bandage – supplied by the thread ravels – was infuriatingly tedious, though it would serve to protect the injury from dust and debris… or crawling through blackout spaces in the walls.

 When he examined the leg however, he found this was slightly more concerning. He washed away some of the scab, but found a portion of the shallower segment healed. It didn’t seem swollen or red with infection, and hadn’t appeared to impede Mono’s movement. Really, he couldn’t recall if the child favored that leg. At the time he was focused on other matters.

 He did not like how limp the body is, how clearly infirm Mono is. It was too much like something critical was missing, perhaps everything. Even in an exhausted rest, the child was in a constant state of rigidity, primed to spring at a moment notice and race out of the grasp of sinister dangers. Now? He was nothing but a shred of cloth. He shouldn’t have let this happen.

 Eventually, he asserted. The boy will awaken. This he knows… he’s almost certain. Despite the infallibility of their interlocked fate, he far from certain. Was that too, a trick of the Tower? It never indicated any laws, maybe it didn’t know. More likely, it didn’t care.

 He tested the width of the wrist between his thumb and forefinger, felt the brittle bones creek with pressure. The pulse was very faint, but all the same present. Was it possible the child was more birdlike and frail since their initial encounter? His chest barely filled out the shirt he wore under his coat, miscolored and stained by every misadventure. It seemed like the only time he stumbled upon him, the child was chewing on something. Likely, the only time the child ceased moving. It was possible no matter the motive, he was inexorable drawn to his younger-self. And it was only when Mono stopped moving to eat, that he could cut the distance.

 This reflection made him deeply ashamed. He didn’t really think, given that the most reflective time of his life had only been in the presence with other children. Yes, even Her. They barely managed. But beyond the time of his final station within the Signal Tower, all other needs had been eradicated. Sheltered. Protected. Aging. All gifts denied to other children; tokens they fought to claim as their existence waned. In the name of survival.

 What was he even doing? What good was this? The damage was done. The Thin Man slouched in his seat and inspected the work. It was adequate. He settled his hand over the little body and reassured himself, yes, the child was still breathing. Shallow, near imperceptible, but persisting. Stubborn and single-minded, even while comatose. He could almost admire it.

 There had never been a way to go about this, with the child. It was lunacy. Dangerous. Apparently, it didn’t matter the intent, children did not do well in the presence of adults. He would resolve to let him go, and adopt the practice which Mono was so well-versed in. The technique of utter avoidance. The boy would find his own way or die, but that was what is right. That was what is needed. Like Six. Children figured these things out, it’s what they did best.

 The hardest was to let go. It was harder than… sorry, he supposed.

 He slumped, combing his other hand under his hat. There wasn’t a point to any of this, at least, not for he or the boy. Mono was repelled by his presence, it was possible he figured out… who he was. Who they were. He never considered this as a possibility, let alone anything else. He just couldn’t leave well enough alone. Mono was surviving by what ever means necessary, which meant running – smartly – from his own shadow. How ironic.

  The Thin Man hadn’t realized he slipped into rest until he jarred, dragged from numb recollections and the dreaded clicking of a ticking clock. He sat up straighter and drew his hand back, off the rumpled shirt.

 Mono was gone. No sign or evidence of him within the room, aside from the abandoned coat. Not a surprise.

 He considered clearing up the bit of rags and bowl, but didn’t see a point to it. Flashing faintly, the residue of his silhouette trailed as he exited the room. On his way through the corridor, he halted and checked the room with the dresser. Alas, there was the child, settled on the floor by the furniture piece which dwarfed him, and gazing out the window. An oversized sock wrapped around his shoulders.

 Why didn’t he take his coat, wondered the Thin Man? It wasn’t set far aside while he worked. The conclusion was thus, Mono had been in a haste for escape, but appeared unable to reach the source of liberation. The window.

 Mono swept his head back, and the Thin Man nearly winced. It was curious how something so pitiful looking, could invoke such an emotion. He expected an immediate and volatile response, but the child simply returned his attention to the window. The little shape shifted with a deep but noiseless sigh.

 Should he risk moving closer? If the child was receptive, he could assist. Set him on his way.

 “Do want to window?” he posed, as softly as he could.

 The child flinched and looked back at him, tilting his head as if considering the options. After a moment he rose to his feet, using the open drawer to keep steady as he wobbled. He looked from the Thin Man to the window, while receding a step.

 He thought of offering his hand, but the child didn’t appear steady on his own feet even with support. Slowly he stooped low and entered the doorway, the child wasn’t looking at him, but focused elsewhere – his arm. When he tried to put a hand around the child, Mono inched back and gave him an imploring look. The Thin Man withdrew.

 “To window. You know I won’t hurt you. Safe.”

 Mono tugged the sock tighter around his shoulders and shuffled back, faltering slightly. He had to hold onto the dresser or risk folding down.

 Deciding on another tactic, the Thin Man knelt and set his open hands on the floor. “Want to window?” He moved his hands forward, and this time the child didn’t retreat. He sort of collapsed into his palms, his body quaking. It likely would’ve suited better to put the child in the drawer for more rest, but Mono was already fumbling to see the window. He crossed the room in a smooth stride and deposited the child there.

 Mono thumped the glass with his forehead as he scooted close to cracked the windowpane, and stared down on the dark city streets below. His breath fogged the glass as he devoted his focus to this serious task.

 “What do you see?” No reply was given, aside from a flicker of the child’s attention. That was well enough. He left to gather some of the provisions he had taken, and to offer Mono a moment….

 When he reentered the room, he’s almost stunned that the boy is unmoved. The window is broken on one side, and though the climb would be perilous, it was manageable – if Mono was in good health. He would never have doubted him to try, and doom them. He was dispirited by this whole affair.

 The child knew the texture of his presence, and thus the Thin Man didn’t see the necessity of drawing attention to himself. He set a bowl of water and some food on the sill. For the time Mono lay fastened to the glass, head drooping. When he sees the food, he’s not much enthused. He does shuffle over and takes whatever is provided and dunks it into the water first. Everything he eats, sopping wet to the point of gruel. It can’t be a pleasant meal, though meals are never pleasant. It’s a chore.

 He annihilated what would be one Mono handful of food and then sagged on the sill, curling up under the sock. He was asleep before he plopped over.

 At least the bundle looked more normal now, coiled the way it was. The Thin Man debated on relocating the knotted heap to the drawer, but decided on an alternative. He took a suitable pot from the kitchen and set it by the sill, for Mono to decide as he needed.

 Before ducking through the doorway, he looked back. In the least, the child broke from the endless slumber. Yet, he had to wonder what he could do, to hasten his recovery. It was a damn pitiful to witness his meek effort to eat, and would he rouse once more? Soon? He didn’t know.

 He knew nothing. He had no inspiration, on what more could be done rather than wait. That was the sum of his entire existence, though. An endless journey punctuated by endless waiting.

Next

[velnoni]

Let Me Adore You

Commissioned for @narutos-fat-meat

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Sero Hanta

Word Count: 2.6k

Also on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141784

Summary: “Instead of regretting what we cannot do, it is better to do what one can.” A meeting that runs against the time of death. A story about the short blossoming love between a kitsune and a dying human. Truly it’s beautiful in it’s own right.

Tags: angst, fluff, food, implied sexual interaction/intercourse, sad ending, death.

Conscious comes rather slow, sluggish like honey being squeezed out of a container. When Sero had finally woken up it wasn’t in his bed. And he wasn’t lying down but rather sitting on his knees in the nightwear he went to bed in. Beside him was a small basket he’d brought to bed with a bright yellow balloon, barely filled with air tied to the handle. He yawns loudly and blinks the sleep away before slowly rising to his feet.

Where he was a land bordering between two worlds. His world and something...entirely else. He remembers the first time he woke up here, frightened and lost as he wandered around the endless field. Green grass going miles and miles as far as the human eye could see, trees so tall and proud and lined up with impeccable symmetry that if Sero were a child he would’ve loved to sit on its sturdy branch and call out to friends below. The first time he’d had come here he was barefooted and prayed that it was all just a strange dream. It was what motivated him to keep running until bare legs touched the water of this world. What had brought him to the ocean? He didn’t know. He hadn’t even realized he was walking into the ocean until the salty seawater reached up the thighs of his scrawny limbs. The water was cold, incredibly cold. And all Sero could do was stand still and look out to the ocean that stretched far beyond the horizon.

It was heavenly and outrageously enthralling. The sky had a slash of purple rippling through the orange and pinks that decorated the air. Clouds swirled about and Sero could see the sphere of the sun in the far distance. It was as if someone had been given a paintbrush and had let their imagination run wild. The mesmerizing colors of the sky, shimmering so brightly in his onyx eyes that all Sero could do was sigh in awe. The air was crisp and clean, a far cry from the city. The building anxiety had just melted away.

“What are you doing here?” And then he’d met him. The voice, stoic and voided of life, reverberates through the air. It was slightly deep and authoritative enough to startle the meek human and caused Sero to fall in the water. Salt had filled his lungs for a few seconds before he came up for air, limbs thrashing and him gasping and snorting the water out of his system. His pajamas were stuck tight to his skin and his now wet hair obscured his vision.

He calls out “Who are you?” At the moment he didn’t get a look at the person. He was still busy gaining some proper footing. But when Sero had pushed his hair out his face with both hands he was surprised at what he saw. A kitsune, with neatly parted hair that reminded him of a candy cane. Heterochromatic eyes consisting of grey and blue, cold and stoic like his face. He was tall, taller than Sero and something about him screamed authority. There was a scar on his face that was somehow attractive in its own right and he wore a kimono dark enough to be mistaken for black with white petals adorning it spatially.

He was beautiful. Perhaps Sero would’ve enjoyed the view more if he weren’t informed that a human being so close to the shore meant that they were soon to die.

The basket bounced with each step Sero took until finally, a small traditional Japanese house came into view. If someone had told him that he started walking faster he wouldn’t deny it. It’s just that he was eager to see Todoroki that’s all. He never met a kitsune before, let alone one mysterious as him. The house was a decent size and the only thing besides land that Sero could spot, something about domains Todoroki had explained at one point. Upon reaching the house he opened the wooden gate and immediately went to the back as he did upon earlier occasions.

Peeping from behind he saw the kitsune sitting on a blanket with his eyes closed. His hands lay gently in his lap. Today he was wearing a white yukata, crisp and clean like freshly hung laundry. He looked to be at peace. A gentle breeze flows and it stirs the tranquility of his dual-colored hair. The words beautiful echo in Sero’s head as he steps forward. The soft crunching of the grass makes Todoroki’s ear visibly twitch and he slowly opens his eyes to see the scrawny human holding a basket out.

“Brought ya something.”

...

The two sat beside each other, Sero watching with dutiful eyes as the kitsune sunk his fangs into the meal he made. It was a steamed meat bun, no longer warm but just as tasty telling from the minuscule rising of Todoroki’s eyes. After spending time with him it’s gotten easier for Sero to pick out his little quirks. It made it easier to converse.

“It’s good. Thick and rich.” His Adam apple bobs when he swallows the rest of the treat down and Sero's eyes follow. His fluffy tails, four of which Sero found peculiar (Todoroki had explained he’s still young) poofed up and swayed as Todoroki stares down at him in expectation. The raven hair laughs, joyful and uncaring, and sets out another plate. The yellow balloon attached to the handle steadily grows as the two spend the night together. They talk about trivial things, mostly Sero taking and Todoroki humming but very much immersed in the conversation about his mundane life. Sero doesn’t miss how Todoroki leers at him when he talks about one of his friends. It puts him on edge but in all honesty, he already has one foot in the door.

When the yellow balloon is round and succulent, ready to pop he bids Todoroki a goodbye with a promise to bring the recipe on his next visit.

Todoroki is hesitant when Sero wags the strange pastry in front of him. The spices were strong and the wet, white, and gooey sugary substance dribbled down the sides of the bread and onto Sero’s fingers. Sero had called a cinnamon bun. And it would be rude of him to not eat what his...what was Sero to Todoroki? He never truly pondered the status of their relationship. Hanta Sero was an interesting human. Even knowing that his days are counted he comes with assortments from his world just to share with someone like him. The person who would lead him to the afterlife. It left a grime taste in his mouth when he thought that way but that was reality.

The way his onyx eyes twinkled, reflecting the colors of the sea. How silly he looked completely drenched like a dog. He was interesting from the very start. His stomach rumbles.

The human looks up at him, slanted eyes and an ordinary thin smile. The cinnamon bun is still in his hands. Todoroki bows down a bit and sinks his mouth on the sugary treat, his tongue grazing the tips of Sero’s fingers, eyes staring in human as he slowly consumes the food. He pulls off slowly, his gaze heated as he swallows. Sero had long since retracted his hand, face tinged red as the fur on Todoroki’s skin.

He licks his sharp nails of the sweetness, eye crinkling a bit as he hums in content. “It’s sweet.” If it were anyone else they would think Todoroki is stating the obvious, that the way his tail puffed out was simply a coincidence and that Sero was simply just a friend.

“I-I’m glad you liked it!” So what was Sero to Todoroki?

...

The next time they ate together Sero had used the kitchen in his home, this time bringing four balloons to extend his stay. Todoroki noticed how Sero despite being a decent height for a human had to tiptoe to reach the cabinets. His shirt would ride up a bit and he could see the outline of his scapula poking. The ears upon his head twitch at the thought of wrapping his arms around Sero. Would he jump in surprise at the embrace? Would Todoroki feel the poke of his bones against his chest? Or perhaps Sero would press into his touch and allow someone like him to give him warmth. His mind is in the cloud, thinking up small scenarios as the aroma of curry fills the air. He almost goes to ask but forgets when his name is called out.

Another time he visits the sky is dark with stars in the sky. Beautiful and speckled across the heavens. He would’ve adored the sight a bit more if Todoroki wasn’t sucking his lips dry. The kiss is wet and feverish, needy and consuming Sero’s oxygen. Sharp fangs nick Sero’s tongue and a soft moan is dragged out with little effort before Todoroki is gently shoved off. There's frustration in his eyes at being disturbed.

“Didn’t think you would be so forward Todoroki ~” the teasing of his voice earns him an uncharacteristic huff and the beautiful trails behind the kitsune flare a bit. “Is it wrong to claim what’s mine?” And although the words were flattering Sero wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t blind to the predator like stare Todoroki sent him when he thought he was looking. How Todoroki almost swallowed his finger whole. The purrs he lets out when Sero combs his tail. He was sure that there would have to be strong trust between a kitsune and the other for their tail to be touched. Like an honor or something. But at the same time, it felt like Todoroki was holding himself from enjoying. Well, at least tonight was a change of pace.

“No. Not at all” he finally answered. Just how much time did he have left? His brows furrow in disdain but he snaps out of his when he feels his shorts being tugged down.

“Pay attention.” Shouto shifts himself upward to loosen his yukata, the fabric slipping out in a lewd manner. There was low rumbling in Shouto’s chest as pins Sero down. He was sure at some point he had lost consciousness after what happened.

Sero wondered idly the next day that if they were in his house would the neighbors hear him scream.

...

“So why did you live all alone here?” This time a green balloon was attached to a tree branch as they sat together, staring outward into the pretty landscape. Their pinkies were connected, an option much preferred than full on hand-holding. Todoroki doesn’t answer, at least not at first. It takes a while to break down his walls, Sero notes for each time he visits. So instead of answering Todoroki stares into the vast scenery of yellow and orange. For a second a flash of pain filters through his eyes but it is gone before Sero notices.

His answer makes Sero laugh. A very soft and ebullient laugh that makes Todoroki’s cheeks tinge ever so delicately. It’s weaker than before.

“I guess I like to be alone.”

...

It’s two weeks till Sero’s next visit and Todoroki idly wonders if he miscalculated when Sero would pass away. And even if he did he would’ve known, he would’ve felt it. Tending to the garden by himself wasn't out of the ordinary but he missed scolding Sero for slacking off or hissing when he sometimes jumps on his back to scare the poor yokai. When he finally saw Sero trekking up the hill no he did not pounce him and no he didn’t nuzzle into his chest. Todoroki was not on the verge of crying...although he did like it immensely when Sero coos at how cute he was. It was a rare sight, a large fox-like creature straggling in the lap of a sick human. He didn’t even notice the plastic wristband on Sero’s arm.

Fate was fickle and mocking at its victim was it not?

...

“You smell strange.” 

“Yeah, the hospital got a strange smell. Bunch of old people and chemicals and stuff.” 

“You look tired.” Someone yawns. “I guess I am.”

 “Would you care to rest beside me?”

“...I don’t think I'll be coming back here.”

“I know. It’s my job to guide you across the ocean and I’ll fulfill it to the end.”

“Hanta.” He gets a strange look. “Call me Hanta.” “Then call me Shouto.”

...

A bunch of balloons, so many with messages and with flowers that Shouto immediately recognizes when Hanta wakes up by the shore. The calling was already having the human walk in the shivering waters. He swallows the lump in his throat. People die all the time, it's normal.

He’s led so many people across the shore but never once had a human fed him as Hanta did. Laughed when there was nothing to laugh about. Asked questions that he’d no doubt not get an answer to. He never gave up. He was an ordinary person...no; an extraordinary person to Shouto. He loved him. He loved him so fucking much that it hurts, that the greedy side of him wanted to lock Hanta up in his house for good. But it wasn’t possible. It never was.

“Shouto!” He was waving at the kitsune. Hanta wore a smug smile on his face, the hospital gown fluttering just above the water. His hair was neatly combed down and Todoroki fought the urge to kiss his forehead. Instead, he stood a few steps away on the sand, arms full of flowers. He stares and stares at Sero with a gloomy emanation. He finally understood his resolve. How could he not realize it? “Hanta I love you.”

“I love your cooking, how you laugh, your eyes—everything!” His cheeks felt warm. Warm like when Hanta had first kissed his cheek. Warm like how the food filled his growling stomach. Burning like their night of passion. He blabbers on, more vocal and more vulnerable than he’s ever been in centuries. “I love you. So so much...I didn’t want to say it because I knew this would happen! I was lonely but you changed that.” There’s a crack in his voice when he confesses. The swarm of regret and insecurities, the love he held for this human. He has so many secrets he wishes to share with Hanta. If only they had more time.

He steps into the water, careful not to get his clothes wet but it backfires when Sero drags him in, laughing and snorting when he falls headfirst. “About time you said it! I was waiting for like forever!” Shouto rises from the water, tails, and ears flatten down as he looks up at Sero. Under the bags of his eyes, he could see them crinkle with blissful happiness and content. How melancholic was this moment indeed? Just like those few months back when they first met. Only this time it was Hanta pushing Shouto’s hair out of his face to leave a very long and loving kiss on hips pretty lips. It was sweeter than any cinnamon bun, lovelier than the times they spent in bed, and painful too.

It was breathtaking. Shouto’s tails were sagging in the water and his knees were going numb from the cold but he minds it not. When they pull away for air Hanta is rubbing his fingers across the ugly scar on his face.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

So what was Sero to Todoroki?

His first love.

Instead of regretting what we cannot do, it is better to do what one can.

Author Note: A few things I’d like to mention. I had to rewrite this so many times because it just wasn’t clicking. The first idea was for Todoroki to eat Sero’s heart and fall in love with him but I didn’t like it. The balloons and the ability to meet someone in a dream is a reference to xxxHolic. By bringing or taking stuff in the dream world it’ll appear or disappear in the real world and vice versa. In the series, it was said that the balloon held dreams so I went okay this time the balloons symbolize how long you can stay in the dreamland. When the person awakens the balloon pops. Lastly, the shore was a reference to Toilet Bound Hanako Kun.

Finally, that last quote was by Yuuko Ichihara, a character from xxxHolic. I’m really glad that this commission gave me free will and I hope y’all enjoyed the somber ending as I did.

[king-crockett]

Crockett Marcel, leader of Chicago’s biggest gang, you name it, they’ve done it, their empire came from money laundering, everyone knew it.

Crockett was unpredictable, He has been treated at Gaffney for multiple injuries, gunshot wounds, stabbings, he was even poisoned once but nothing ever gets the man down, not even the cops.

Talia had met him a few months ago, not long after she had started at Gaffney, she had moved from Boston after a particularly messy break up.

“Dr Ramos, it’s for you.” Maggie says, a worried look over her face. “It’s Crockett Marcel.”

Talia took the phone, her face showing an equally as worried look.

“H-hello?” She whispers, “How can I help?”

“My buddy, Freddie.” Crockett says, his gruff voice sending chills through her body. “He’s in a rough way.”

“If y-you bring him down to the ER, we can take a look at try and help.” Talia says slightly more confidently than before.

“I can’t do that T.” He sighs, “You see, those pigs are on my case, they’re just waiting to pounce.”

“What would you like me to do?” She asks, shooting a quick glance to Maggie before mouthing ‘PD’

“You need to promise me that you won’t tell anyone where I am, because you know what will happen if you do.” He states.

“I understand Crockett.” Talia says, a thumbs up from Maggie signalling that the cops were informed.

****

Talia stood outside the run down car wash on South Morgan Street, her medical bag in hand, unsure of what she was about to walk into.

The grime covered glass door opened ajar as she raised her fist to knock, almost as if he was watching her.

“Come in.” Crockett says, as he ushers her in hastily. “They are looking for us.”

“What happened?” Talia sighs, as she followed Crockett towards the back room

“They shot him.” He says, his anger palpable, “The fuckers from the East side.”

Stepping into the dull, dank room, all Talia could see was blood.

“Get me the cleanest rags you can.” She shouts, as she runs to the victim, laying on the floor. “Is this all his?”

“I got nicked by a bullet but it’s not bad.” Crockett says, sounding somewhat flustered, which she noticed.

“These are too dirty.” She says, frustrated at the man’s unwillingness to take his friend to the ER.

Tearing at the sleeve of her undershirt, she began to pack his wound. “There isn’t an exit wound, this will last until we can get him to surgery.”

“Do it here, you’re a doctor.” He frowns.

“Crockett.” She says, as firmly as she could, given the situation. “He has a bullet in his chest, we need a whole team of people.”

“We can’t, the cops will be there.”

“How do you know that?” She asks, worried she’d let slip on the phone.

“Cops are always around” Crockett says, exasperatedly. “They have shit on me, but they can’t prove that it was me so they never have enough to arrest me.”

“He will die if he doesn’t go to the ER.” Talia states. “Your friend will die.”

“Take it out.” Crockett shouts, making Talia jump. “You know what will happen if you don’t.” He adds, placing a gun on the counter.

Talia gains a sudden burst of confidence before saying “You won’t shoot me, you need me.”

Crockett frowned before putting the gun away. “Do it.”

***

The music at Molly’s pounded in Talia’s ears as she sat at the bar, alone, the whisky burning her throat as she drank.

“I owe you one.” A familiar voice sounded next her, snapping her out of her trance.

“I hope your friend is okay.“ She smiles, taking another sip of her whisky.

“He’ll be fine.” He laughs, signalling the bartender for another drink. “I know how to ask for if I need help.”

Talia laughs, a breathy laugh. “I’m an ER doctor not a surgeon.”

“You removed a bullet from a man, and stitched me up in a few hours, in a car wash.”

“I won’t be your personal surgeon every time you get into shit.” She sighs, drinking the new whisky in front of her in one. “I have to go.”

“I got a visit from Jay after you left.” He says, calmly.

“Halstead?” She says, her heart dropping.

“You know who I meant.” He sighs “And we both know who called him.”

Talia remained silent, as to not get herself into anymore trouble.

“Never pull that shit again.” He says, his gun pressing into her side. “Or those friends of yours will have a new murder to solve and I won’t make it easy.”

“Understood.” She whispers.

Talia had a feeling this wasn’t the last time she was going to see Crockett.

[tinyarmedtrex]

reddie + in the water + first kiss

Richie watched his friends whoop and holler, celebrating the fact that they had done it. They’d survived. They’d won. It was an amazing moment. Pennywise was dead and they were free. Richie knew that as well as the rest of them but he couldn’t bring himself to celebrate with them.

Instead his eyes traveled to Eddie, who was trying to dunk Mike under the water. Both of them had their heads thrown back, belly laughs erupting from them and all Richie could think about was that Eddie had come so close to dying. Pennywise’s claw had nearly impaled him and for a terrible moment Richie had known what it would be like to not have Eddie in his life ever again.

It had terrified him.

Even watching Eddie now as he complained loudly about how dirty the water was, Richie couldn’t quite shake the feeling. It had nestled deep in his gut, the knowledge of losing something that wasn’t even his to have. Bile rose in his throat and he pushed it back down, knowing he’d never hear the end of it if he puked now.

“Rich?” Eddie swam over to him, eyes round with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing Eds.” He blinked, staring at his friend, trying to remind himself that Eddie was alive, he was fine.

“Your glasses.” Carefully, Eddie reached up and took them off Richie’s face, dunking them in the water to clean off the grime. As he did Richie’s face went to the bandaged cut on Eddie’s arm, where the claw had nicked him. 

“Does it hurt?” Richie asked softly. 

Eddie glanced at it before shaking his head. “No. It’ll probably get infected from this though.” He scrunched his nose in the adorable way Richie couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. How was he supposed to go back to his life, knowing that he may never see that scrunch again?

“We’ll have to amputate.” Richie joked, miming a chainsaw cutting off his arm. His heart wasn’t in it and he was sure Eddie knew. Even now, with Eddie right in front of him, his brain couldn't stop replaying that moment, how narrowly Eddie had survived, how he wouldn’t have if Richie hadn’t reacted, pushing him aside at the last second.

“Hilarious.” Eddie deadpanned. “I can see why people pay for the pleasure of watching that wit.” He raised the glasses to the sky, looking through them. They must have been slippery because they fell from his hand.

“Shit!” Both scrambled to grab them, instead knocking into each other as the glasses floated down.

“Well damn Spaghetti,” Richie said, blinking owlishly. “Now I can’t see that beautiful face.”

Eddie rolled his eyes before taking Richie’s hand. “Help me look.” He said, tugging Richie under. They dove and Richie thought that Eddie looked  ethereal underwater as his hair fanned out, framing his face. It was like he didn’t belong on this world. 

Maybe he doesn’t, a traitorous voice in Richie’s head said, maybe he was supposed to die there. In that sewers. 

No, Richie thought as Eddie released Richie and dove deeper. He couldn’t let himself believe that. Eddie belonged here, he’d earned the right to live a long happy life, they all had.

Richie watched as he grabbed the glasses. They had settled in the silt, almost looking like they’d been there for years.

As he came back up Eddie stopped, looking into Richie’s eyes. Alive, Richie reminded himself. He’s alive.

Almost as if Eddie heard his monologue he moved in, pressing his lips briefly to Richie’s.

“What-” Richie tried to exclaim but instead he got a mouthful of water. 

Eddie laughed and pulled him up, bringing him away from the others as they surfaced.

“What the hell was that?” Richie asked, pushing his hair out of his face and gaping at Eddie.

Eddie’s eyes met his, determined. “I nearly died down there. I would have, if it wasn’t for you. I’m not letting either of us waste this second chance.”

Then, softer, almost hesitantly, Eddie added. “And I thought it was about time we had our first kiss.” 

Richie exhaled, staring at his friend, the first boy he’d had a crush on, the one who still had his heart, the one who’d defied some cosmic odds and lived, and he nodded. They’d survived, all of them. They could do anything now.

“What about our second kiss?” He asked.

Eddie laughed, wiping Richie’s glasses on his shirt before placing them back on his face and kissing him, his hands finding Richie’s cheeks and Richie’s going to his back, pulling him in close. They kissed until the others saw and teased them- and then gave them the middle finger and kissed more. They’d earned it.

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