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Hope among despair (xReader)

Summary:

« His soulful eyes are searching my face, looking for any sign that would confirm my interest.
I must’ve been transparent, my gaze on him whenever he was in my field of view, probably flushed more than once before my blood slowed to almost a stand-still. I was crushing hard, but I never expected him to take me up on the silent offer.
I would have to be insane to not take him up on it, though. If this is my last decision, I will make damn sure it’s the kind of mistake I can cherish in my cold undead chest for as long as I get to live.
“I’d… I’d love for you to stay.” »


Chase Graves is so hot and his eyes so soulful. He got me and I had to write about him. I seem to tend to like people no one else likes, though.
I started this in the middle of season 4 (finished the show since then). My first attempt at this failed, so I tried again. This time, I think, it finally works.

Notes:

Just copy the text into a document and Find&Replace [Name] and [Surname] with anything you want and enjoy ♥




(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

In the madness and soil
of that sad earthly scene
only then I am human
only then I am clean

~ Hozier, Take Me To Church


78 by AmeliaPhotography on deviantART

Remember when life used to be filled with the normal kind of problems and the worst that could happen to you was losing a good job or going through a painful break-up?

Yeah, I do too.

Life has changed for me drastically last week. Such a stupid accident that it doesn't even deserve the term. Some random dude in a supermarket in the line in front of me took his bags a little too roughly a little too close to me and his carelessly overgrown nails left a tiny, laughable mark in the skin of my hand. The dude, completely unaware of what he'd done, just turned and left without a single look my way. Disinfecting the wound and praying didn't help. So now...

Now there's not much to look forward to, really. I'm dead. Or more specifically, undead.

Yeah, I live in Seattle during the zombie virus outbreak, trapped inside the Wall erected by Fillmore-Graves. The only family on this side of it is my father who claims to love and protect me, but will undoubtedly cut me off once he finds out his daughter is a walking corpse. He's human—and he hates zombies.

So is Clark, my boyfriend of two months. And since I'm one of those girls who prefer to really get to know a guy before sleeping with him, we've been getting the right amount of madly horny just before I got turned...

One bright spot left in my future seems to be my job. I was hired by Fillmore-Graves as a therapist for their constantly traumatized zombie soldiers. These days, I have my hands full and my belly full of brain tubes. At least something is going my way.

The rest is giving me plenty of reasons to need my own shrink.

This morning, I got a new batch of traumatized rookies to take care of, as more nasty shit with haters went down where they were sent to patrol the other night. By the time I dragged my spray-tanned ass home, I was more dead than undead. I felt drained like a bag of lemons used to make lemonade.

Sad thing was, what I did was nothing as sweet and refreshing; I just delayed the inevitable. Any day now, someone's going to drop a nuke on our heads, and now that I'm part of the problem, I can't even hope to be evacuated with the remaining humans.

Safe to say my "life" sucks balls now.

And the last straw was Clark, my human boyfriend. He was done getting dodged by me, barged in my apartment about an hour ago and demanded an explanation. So I had to suck it up, rally the few remaining brain cells that were still willing to cooperate with me, and finally tell him the truth.

I'd love to say he handled it well, commiserated with me and said "we'll get through this together, honey". No, he was out the door before I could even finish explaining how it wasn't my choice and how there's nothing I can do about it. I don't think I'm in love with him, but damn, that made me feel like the last cadaver in a morgue that no one would pick up.

The look of disgust on his face really stuck with me. I feel dirty and unworthy, betrayed, and I can't stop wailing. The shower I took to wash away the shame and pain didn't help much, so now I'm sauntering across my apartment in just my robe, trying to prepare a snack before bed and sobbing as if my beloved husband of ten years has just left me out of the blue.

I must've been loud enough to drown out the strange sounds that should've alerted me to the presence of someone else in the room. I'm completely oblivious to everything but my misery until I turn and scream.

Chase Graves is standing in my kitchen, in what I thought was my locked apartment, with his gun drawn and aimed, as if he's looking for an intruder in his own home. Well, fuck me.

I used to hate his guts at the beginning of all this, wanting him dead for what I thought he was responsible for, and now it all came rushing back on the new wave of suspicion. Have I done something that would warrant shooting me over? Have I made the gravest—ha ha—mistake of my life by siding with this man, trusting him, his motives and judgment?

My hand goes for the knife rack and closes around the handle of one of the big ones, as if it could help me against a shooter in any way. My brain refuses to come up with words to say, so I just stare at him, eyes wide, and try to breathe, waiting for his next move.

He lowers the weapon, looking a bit confused and more than a little ashamed.

"I'm sorry," he utters, clearing his throat and putting the pistol away. He lifts his hands up in a calming gesture, casting a glance at the knife. "You can put that down, Miss [Surname]. I didn't mean to scare you. Your door was wide open and I heard crying, so I got the impression that you were in trouble."

And he came in to save me? Aww. Clark must've bolted out of here in such a rush he didn't even bother with the door. I should've made sure it was locked, but I was too distressed. I suppose I'm lucky it was Chase who came in to check on me.

"That's... that's nice of you," I breathe out, setting the knife back in its rack, yet remaining behind the counter. "But... what were you doing here in the first place?"

"I came by to ask you something. You may have heard about how I rearranged some of my staff this morning."

"The news reached me, yes," I nod, folding my arms across my chest.

It worries me, for his sake; I feel like the advisors he replaced might get thirsty for some revenge. He can't afford many more people going against him.

"I have an offer for you. But I think it can wait for now. Are you alright?"

"I'm fi—" I begin, but then I scold myself. Who am I trying to lie to? He heard me. "I had to tell my human boyfriend that I got infected," I say flatly. "I don't think I'll be seeing him again."

Chase's shoulders slump. He looks genuinely disappointed.

"I'm sorry," he says again. "Couldn't have been easy for you."

"It's not even about him," I shake my head. "We dated for two months, he wasn't that important. It was just the last straw, you know. Consequences of something I couldn't control, but what now holds my whole life hostage."

I shouldn't have said the last sentence. It triggers a chain reaction I'm unable to stop.

Tears fight their way out of my eyes again. I try holding them back, but I can feel my face crumpling as a new wave of self-pity washes over me. I squeeze my own shoulders with my hands and hope it weakens after a few juicy sobs, but in the next second I'm on my ass on the floor rocking back and forth in a fit of hysteria.

I don't want Chase to see me like this and I expect him to quietly back out of the apartment anyway. He surprises me again when he comes round the kitchen island and drops to the floor beside me.

I turn away in an attempt to hide my bloated wet face, but he reaches for me and gently leads me into his embrace. I lay my head on one of his impressive pecs and he slowly strokes my hair as I cry into his shirt.

It shouldn't be this pleasant, but it is. His scent, warmth and gentleness soothe me despite the pain and terror rampaging in my chest. My brain is too exhausted to fight it. I like being in his arms. So I keep softly whimpering even after the worst passes, wanting to enjoy more of it, unwilling to leave this soft and safe place.

When he starts shifting, I jolt upright, trying to remember why he was comforting me in the first place. Clark slipped out of my mind like he never existed—and perhaps he hasn't, not for zombie [Name] anyway.

"I'd like to be of more support," Chase says softly, "but perhaps we can move elsewhere? The floor is not exactly comfortable. My butt's starting to hurt and I imagine yours must too."

I crack a smile hearing him talk about my ass. He snickers back and helps me up.

"I should go clean up a bit," I sniff, quickly wiping my face with a paper towel. "Sorry for the meltdown. It's not every day my boss catches me at my own place crumbling after a breakup. I'd bet tomorrow at work you wouldn't be able to tell how I spent this evening."

"I know you'd be the picture of composure," he smirks. "I'm really sorry, Miss [Surname], I truly didn't mean to intrude on such a personal moment. I hope I made up for that somewhat. You don't have to worry, it won't leave this room," he promises solemnly. "I know how important it is to keep up appearances. Our jobs demand it."

"Yeah," I breathe out. I feel a pang of disappointment. I guess I was hoping there was more behind his willingness to comfort me in my weak moment. Seems like I was wrong. "Thank you, sir. Good night. You can find your way out, right?"

I manage to smile before quickly turning away. I don't want to watch him go. My fragile peace of mind couldn't handle more heartache.

The next horror awaits when I hit the bathroom and look in the mirror. "Jesus," I curse under my breath and dive in for a good rinse. No wonder he wasn't interested. Not that zombies have that many options in this city as they used to have as humans, free to travel anywhere, but I wouldn't want me right now either.

I kind of wish I wasn't too scared of all the potential unpleasant consequences to have one-night-stands with complete strangers. I could just go to a bar and get laid, like so many other people in this city do. My stupid wanna-be high morals only prevent me from having fun. I could use a proper rebound just about now—not only from Clark and my old life, but from Chase as well. Might also help me forget about my bleak future for a few hours. Tough titties.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I finish drying my face off and exit the bathroom, only to stand face to face with Chase again. Well, face to chest, to be more precise. Fuck, he's tall. I crane my neck back to catch a strange expression quickly leaving his face.

"I actually didn't mean to leave yet," he says quietly, head slightly tilted to the side. I blink at him in shock. "I wanted to spend some more time with you."

I gape at him, trying to get my bearings. After what I just saw in the mirror, I can't believe he would just offer his company so blatantly. Does he not see my face? Is he not repulsed?

"It's up to you, of course," he adds quickly, suddenly not looking so confident anymore. "Say the word and I'm outta here. But I got the impression that you wouldn't mind me around."

His soulful eyes are searching my face, looking for any sign that would confirm that. I let out a small chuckle, not even sure what I'm laughing at. I must've been transparent, my eyes on him whenever he was in my field of view, probably flushed more than once before my blood slowed to almost a stand-still. I was crushing hard, but I never expected him to take me up on the silent offer. I even managed to find an actual boyfriend in the midst of being hot for Chase and made it work for a while. And while Clark was cute, he was nowhere near the sex-on-a-stick now standing in front of me.

"Uhh," I exhale. "I'd... I'd love for you to stay a bit longer." I gulp hard.

Chase finally relaxes again and his lips stretch into a sweet smile. I can't help but mimic him, something in my chest expanding, making me feel like I could fly. I know he only has casual sex in mind, a sorta helping hand we would extend to each other to fight the stress and depression of our lives. He will be the first man to ever get that from me, but looking up into his handsome face, I know I'll be the one making a killing.

So wait for nothing more. I reach for his face and gently pull him down to my lips. I still don't understand how insane a man like him has to be to want me, especially in this state, so I half expect him to fight me, but I'm just being silly. He wouldn't be here if he wasn't interested.

He presses his hot mouth to mine and I nearly drown in his soft, manly scent. I know it well already, working under him for months, but it's still so powerful. I relax my jaw and let him in, anxious to taste him. I panic as I realize I should've brushed my teeth, but he's already devouring me hungrily without complaints.

It's way too soon for moans, but my traitorous body decides to embarrass me. Chase doesn't seem to mind, though. His hands find my waist and pull me flush to his torso. He takes one step forward and presses me to the bathroom door with the length of his ripped body.

It makes my breath so short I'm starting to see stars. I weave my fingers in his thick hair and hold onto it for dear life. When he lifts me up by my thighs and thrusts his pelvis between my legs, electricity jolts through my gut and spasms in my belly. I can feel the wetness spreading from my core and my chest squeezes out a scandalous whimper.

I'm getting so feverish I feel like this must be a dream. A horny, wet fantasy of a lonely summer night. Something I made up to kill time and got caught in it as I fell asleep.

His palm slides up my thigh and under my robe to find that I don't have anything underneath. A bestial growl resonates in his throat and he pushes himself closer against me. My hands fall off his shoulders and run down his chiseled back, copying every little curve.

God, he's beautiful even to the touch. As I turn to climb back, I slip my hands under his shirt. His skin is hot and smooth and I can't hold back desperate moans leaving my mouth.

"Where's your bedroom?" he whispers into my ear breathily.

I show him with a gesture and he wraps my legs around his waist to take me there. He sets me down on the rug and disrobes me in one move, then lightly topples me on top of my covers.

I shiver with anticipation, trying to catch my breath, as I watch him pull his gray shirt over his head and slip out of his pants and boxers. I'm so immersed in admiring his shape that I don't even feel self-conscious about my own.

His gaze doesn't leave my body. He's eating me up with his sight, sliding across my softness in the most sensual way, dark eyes glinting with desire and a spark of mischief. That's the only approval I need—I feel like a fucking goddess under that burning gaze.

I open myself to him, inviting him closer by biting my lower lip. He casts me a wicked smile, palms already caressing my ankles, then up across my calves and knees until he reaches my loins, drawing a moan from me.

He spreads me more and teases me with quick flicks of his tongue, eyes still glued to mine. I hold his gaze, my breath ragged, legs twitching in the air above his shoulders. Suddenly his mouth covers me completely and sucks hard and I not only hear, but feel his groan reverberating through my lower belly, making me gasp in surprise and ecstasy.

"You taste amazing," he whispers, breathing cool air onto my molten pussy for another curious effect. I just utter a dazed grunt and he's already back in action, sending his long fingers into the fray along with his tongue.

My vision's slowly going dark, my skin glistening with sweat, my moans merging into one endless incomprehensible prayer, until the sensation overflows and stretches into a whiny scream. I scratch at the sheets at my sides and above my head so hard I pull the covers on top of myself before I manage to stop writhing and gather my wits.

There's this cheeky smile on his face as he watches me come down from the high and brush my wild hair back from my face, as if he's pleased with how well he's done his job. I can't complain. I'm a complete mess, thoroughly undone, and almost perfectly sated.

He has yet to offer me the main reason I usually prefer men over women, though, and I'm not finished letting him pleasure me. I pull him on top of me and he eagerly dives into my mouth. He showers my face with kisses, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin just under my earlobes, giving me several love-bites I know I'm going to wear proudly.

I pull on his hair, dig my fingers into his back, grind my hips against his, but he's teasing and making me wait for it.

"You're an insatiable one, aren't you?" he cocks an eyebrow at me playfully. "I love that."

"As long as you're offering," I retort with a giggle and bite his lip.

"I've got a lot more for you," he promises in a low voice and bites me back.

He pushes me higher on the bed, so he can climb on in too, and once he's properly nested, my wrists are suddenly immobilized above my head by his strong grip, while his free hand is making circles on my inner thigh. His mouth is on my ear, playing with my earlobe, whispering something dirty that I can't quite make out.

When he pushes into me, I inhale sharply. He's big and the penetration is abrupt. Hissing at the sensation, I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him in even deeper, showing I'm not afraid of a little roughness. He acknowledges it with a guttural groan, kneading my ass cheek like there's no tomorrow, sinking his teeth into my neck like an animal, making me whimper and whine and rock my hips to meet him half-way.

His gorgeous strong body moves in sync with mine, muscles warm, skin moist with sweat. He pulls my hair, exposing my neck to him to mark it again, ensuring I won't be able to hide it and it's making me feral. Right now, I feel like I want the whole world to know what we did together. That the powerful, handsome commander Graves wanted me.

My head is swimming, but I manage to remain present despite the overwhelming pleasure. I completely let go of any restraint. I feel so myself. So free. He's eagerly taking in all of me and returns every last bit of it thoroughly made love to. I've never felt this kind of instant connection with anyone before, never relaxed this much, never trusted so limitlessly. I'm willing to give him everything and he deserves it all.

Entrenched inside me like he doesn't plan to leave, he's relentlessly pushing me towards another peak. I'm losing control of my body again, feeling like I'm melting, coming apart at the seams, expanding and contracting like the universe, slowly and mind-bogglingly.

And when I do finish, he keeps me on top of that wave of ecstasy for so long I'm completely out of it. I don't have a clue how I react outwardly, I just know I'm drowning in loud white light coming from the molten lava flooding my belly. I think I scratch a little and scream a lot, but I can't be sure. I'm everywhere and everything is me.

I'm full of sticky warmth and still enveloped in Chase's arms when my mind comes back online. He's still inside me, holding me gently, brushing his fingers over my cheekbone and silently studying my face with those deep brown eyes. My breath hitches a little when I meet his gaze; we're so close, so intimate.

I'm wondering what he's still doing in my bed, in me. We've done it, it's over... He should've been already putting his clothes back on and getting the fuck outta here with a lame excuse about having an early morning tomorrow or a cheesy wink and "good sex, see ya around".

I'm suddenly stressed out by his choice to linger. What's happening? Did I not understand the concept of our deed correctly?

"I've been dreaming of doing this for weeks," he sighs contently, his sight still caressing my face.

I take a minute to let it sink. My eyebrows slowly climb up and finally, I let out a chuckle.

"Right," I scoff. "You don't have to lie to me, I know what a one-night-stand is. There's no need for you to stay overnight if you don't want to. I promise, I'll remain professional when we're back at work."

I must be hallucinating, still high on oxytocin, because I see hurt in his beautiful eyes.

"That's all this was to you?"

He grazes my lower lip with his thumb and makes me shiver. He's still pulsating inside me, so close and personal, and it's making it hard to think.

"You're my boss," I utter into a labored exhale. "And I'm no sex-bomb, what on Earth would make you want more than a shag is beyond me, sir."

"Don't call me sir when I'm still inside you," he sighs. "I didn't think you were the type to sleep with guys just for fun. Why did you let this happen if you didn't believe I wanted more than sex?"

I feel a hearty flush climb to my face, but I decide to come clean. No way to take it back now, I might as well be honest about my reasons.

"I wanted you," I shrug, thinking back to all those gazes accidentally locked across a room, all the flutters in the stomach he gave me. "A long time. And I could finally have you without 'undead' consequences. Now they might as well nuke us and I'll die happy," I grin nervously.

A touch of amusement blushes on his face, but his expression remains soft, serious.

"I wish I knew you were so horny for me," he whispers in my ear. "I thought you were in love and I didn't want to disappoint you, so I kept my distance. But there's nothing stopping us anymore... [Name]."

I shiver at the sensual sound of my name on his tongue, but even more at his words preceding it. I blink at him, my brain struggling to compute what he just said. I waver momentarily, thinking maybe this was more then sex for him...

Oh, wake up, silly woman!

"Funny," I manage to croak as my chest contracts with the ache. "Seriously, please, don't lie to me. You can have whoever you point at. You're a walking panty-dropper. I don't know what you found in me that made you interested enough to sleep with me, but don't insult me by implying there's anything more to it."

I try to push him off of me, caught in the emotional drama of my own design, but he chuckles and kisses me, melting my worries away.

"Whoever made you think so little of yourself was a dick," he says animatedly, raking my hair with his fingers. I can feel him swell in me again, ready for round two. "Anyone I could have by simply pointing at them is not worth having, [Name]. At least not more than once," he smirks devilishly.

I want to argue, but he's already effectively distracting me from forming any coherent thought. As soon as he shifts inside me, I gasp, holding onto his shoulders as if that could stop the storm of sensations from overwhelming me. His kiss muffles my cries as he wraps his arms around my torso, holding me close and steady as he thrusts himself in me unhurriedly. And I'm lost again; even if I wanted to refuse another dose of this potent drug, I'm not able to.

I didn't think I had it in me anymore, so tired and spent after the day I've had, but his touch refills my energy and brings me back to life. He rolls us over and puts me on top. My muscles burn, but the new massive waves of pleasure override any discomfort. I grind my hips against his in slow motion, too exhausted to rush anything, and his insanely strong arms help me ride him. He's looking into my eyes, openly, intensely, and I just can't find the lie in them. Whatever this could mean, right now it's making my experience even better, so I just relax and allow myself to enjoy the feeling for however long it lasts.

By the time we finish again, we're exhausted, gasping for air, going completely slack against each other. There's no conversation this time—we fall asleep as soon as the hormonal levels drop low enough. I'm all comfortable on top of him and he doesn't complain.

I wake up in the middle of the night, slightly disoriented. Chase is still serving me as a mattress, the lights are on and it's pitch black outside. When I move, I wake him up too. He must be feeling as broken as I am, but as soon as his eyes focus on me, he smiles and I can't help but smile in return.

I fall off of him groggily, covering myself with sheets, a move he copies. We could really use a shower, but it seems we're both too tired and lazy for that. I just snicker at the mess we've made and his eyes glint with the same amusement.

"That was worth the walk of shame I'm about to experience," he sighs with contentment, pulling me closer, locking me in a hug.

"Life's too short to bother with shame, Chase," I reply with a smile, not feeling strong enough to fight the cuddle. "It's not like we've done something bad."

"Oh, but we're gonna," he turns to me with a hungry expression. "I'm up for anything bad with you. Tell me all about your kinks, describe every fantasy you ever had about me. I want to hear it all."

I just stare at him, trying to decide if he's mocking me. He picks up on that and the spark in his eyes dies a little.

"Look," he takes my hand. "I can imagine how many pigs you've met in this city alone. And I can't honestly say I've never had a one-night-stand. Thing is, those were total strangers. I don't sleep around with my employees, [Name]. It's not against policy or anything, I just prefer to keep my business and pleasure separate, otherwise both can get messy."

I listen to him with genuine interest, but something in the back of my mind is detached, looking down at him and my own thoughts skeptically.

I know first hand that honesty is not a popular approach with guys trying to bed a woman. It's saying sweet lies after they get what they came for that doesn't compute. Perhaps Chase wishes to keep me as his booty call. The 'why' on that is subject to wild speculation, but that's the only explanation I can come up with that doesn't make me sound like a lovestruck teenager.

The last thought makes me pause. Am I lovestruck? Is that what this feeling is? This mix of desire and admiration? Or is it just some sort of fangirling? Because I've done a lot of that.

Something urges me to be honest with him, to tell him what I feel, to chance it and not let the opportunity slip... but that feeling is currently in a ruthless battle with the choking fear of rejection. The last thing I want is to seem silly and desperate.

He watches me with a curious expression. It's almost as if he knows what's going on in my head and is afraid of it. Before I can decide what to say, he takes my turn.

"I can't blame you for being scared, [Name]," he strokes my cheek softly. "But please, give me a chance. I don't know, maybe I look shallow," his eyebrows form a little roof over his doggy eyes, "but I'm really not. I couldn't ignore the way you were looking at me. I've felt untethered for the longest of times... but every time I get near you, I can tell there's a connection. Don't you feel it too?"

I open my mouth to confirm, only to close it a second later. I shouldn't say anything. This can't work.

But the pain that flashes in his face makes me want to cry.

"Yes," I sigh almost soundlessly. My hands touch his face of their own accord. I'm still trying, but my feelings won't let me keep them away from him anymore.

"[Name]," he whimpers, kissing me gently. I taste salt on my tongue from the tears I'm attempting to hold back, and I know he tastes it too. His fingers come up to my face and wipe some of the sad moisture away.

I must be crazy, but I don't feel like pushing him away anymore. My torn and sewn-back-together heart is pumping avidly in my chest, as if Chase infused my blood with new life. I know I'm just begging for more heartbreak, but I can't stop myself. I want this. I want him.

I haven't felt this good or this alive in a very long time. I don't want it to end tonight.

We kiss lovingly for a while, then help each other clean up. We can't keep our hands to ourselves even in the confined space of my shower. When we finally make it to the bed, our knees barely holding us upright, he passionately invades my body again. Maybe it's the zombie virus that lets us keep going despite our exhaustion. It feels like we could just ride each other until we starve or lose our minds to the infection.

Before we pass out naked and tangled, Chase plants a kiss into my hair, pulling me into an embrace. I don't have the capacity to be afraid anymore, so I melt into him and let the world of dreams swallow me.

Whatever happens tomorrow, this was the best fucking night of my life.

Notes:

Any feedback appreciated ♥