another zombie thing but this time with some ocs uwu. not officially apart of collaboween
M!OC Danny Ashton x Friend’s M!OC Joaquim St. James
Warnings: dubcon?ish?; undead; angst; hurt with comfort but inky claims it’s not enough comfort so be warned
Words: 2311
Aksel and Joaquim St. James belong to 💜@inkyquince💜
It was a nightmare. It had to be. One long, sick, twisted nightmare. Any minute now Danny would wake up, flushed and covered in a thin sheet of sweat, in the half dark of the roadside room he’d rented. He’d wake up. He had to. The entity housed in his body would mock him for the strange dream but that would be the worst of it.
Otherwise, the zombie is real.
Another long moan comes from the other side of the door he’d managed to barricade, another loud thud against the weak, faux wood. At least this time it sounded less intent, less like it was actually trying to reach Danny as he pressed back into the corner of the dank bathroom. Shitty little hotel that’d let him crash for a wad of cash and didn’t care to see his nonexistent ID, he didn’t have any hope that the door would hold for much longer if it kept beating on it like it had been, like it had known Danny was in there.
Then, there’s a soft click.
The hair on the back of his neck prickles, his chest tightens. Slowly, to Danny’s horror, the door knob starts to turn.
His ever present grip on the entity slackens, horns sprouting almost instantaneously from his scalp. He doesn’t care. For once, Danny doesn’t care that the entity is making itself known, taking over his body. He almost wants it to, because then it could deal with the undead monster that apparently knew how to open doors. The monster that was grabbing blindly at Danny’s crummy makeshift barricades, steadily working its way into the room.
Danny’s eyes flick around the bathroom looking for something, anything, that he can use as a weapon. A strangle yelp escapes him as he catches sight of himself in the mirror, not recognizing himself for a split second.
He’s never got used to how his possession had robbed him of his appearance, sharpened his teeth and made his skin corpse pale. It always trips him up when he sees himself. The horns poking out from his hair don’t help, nor how his normally brown eyes have gone purple thanks to his momentary slip in control.
Most disturbingly is the soft purple glow he can see radiating from his side, under his jacket. The entity’s marks.
Gingerly, Danny slides a hand over his side, fingertips tracing the cuts. An involuntary hiss escapes him as the marks burn. Another momentary slip, and he can feel the tail at the base of his spine threatening to bloom as well.
Daniel.
He can’t.
I’ll take care of it.
He can’t.
Let me take care of it, Daniel.
If he lets the entity take over, he won’t come back. It’s something he can feel in the marrow of his bones. If he lets himself go now, lets the entity take care of the thing beating down the door, he’ll never be in control of his own body again.
Sharp teeth sink into his bottom lip on habit, even though he can feel the spilled blood adding to the entity’s power. He won’t let go of himself, he won’t. It would only make things worse.
Caught up in his own inner turmoil, it’s only as the zombie breaks down the last of the barricade that snaps Danny out of his struggle with the Entity. It’s making its way into the bathroom, shambling over the debris it created.
Danny notices the jacket first, zeros in on it like it’s the thing that was breaking down the door moments before and not the body beneath it. A familiar jacket, dreadfully familiar.
He doesn’t want to look, doesn’t want to see. For a fraction of a second his hands twitch, as if to cover his eyes, but he remains frozen. A familiar jacket. Just a familiar jacket. That didn’t mean anything. Even if he only ever saw one person wearing a jacket like that. Even if he’d recognize that jacket by touch, by scent. Even if he’d recently teased that it was one of a kind, just like its owner.
Even if it was Joaquim’s jacket.
Joaquim’s jacket, draped over Joaquim’s shoulders, Joaquim’s red hair brushing the collar, and Joaquim’s shades over Joaquim’s damaged eyes and-
“Kimi?”
The zombie focuses on him, head tilting to the side like a dog. “D…Dan..ny?”
It’s different, a different voice. Rougher, almost unused. Not the voice that made Danny’s name sound like a prayer. But it’s the same mouth, the same lips and teeth and tongue.
Danny doesn't move as Joaquim shuffles closer, he’s not sure if he could move honestly. The entity claws at his insides, tries to push forward, to feed off the sorrow and fear, despair tinged rage. The tail unfurls from the base of his spine, back rippling with the threat of tentacles blossoming.
Joaquim is close, so close now. Normally Danny would feel the heat radiating off the other man’s body, but not this time. A hand reaches out, and Danny flinches but still remains locked in place. The familiar palm made strange from lack of warmth, but still right as it cups Danny’s cheek.
“Cry…ing?” Joaquim asks, each syllable labored over.
He hadn’t realized it, though now the zom- Joaquim said it, he realized tears were running down his face. Unsure what to say, he only nods, pressing his cheek into Joaquim’s hand subconsciously, seeking out some of the normal comfort such an action would give him and finding none.
Joaquim grumbles, leaning in closer, stretching up as if about to kiss the taller man. He doesn’t, mouth finding its way to Danny’s neck instead. Lips rest against skin, as if hesitating, and he inhales deep.
“Hun…gry.”
A low sound builds in the back of Danny's throat as an overly wet and off-puttingly cold tongue drags against his neck.
Danger!
The entity’s voice echoes in the back of Danny's head, panic creeping into the normally smug tone.
Danger! Move!
Teeth scrape against his skin and Danny's breath hitches. One of Danny’s trembling hands comes up to rest on Joaquim’s shoulder. He should push Joaquim away, but he can’t bring himself to do it.
Die! We'll die.
“Maybe I wanna…” he mumbles back to the entity, craning his neck on instinct to give Joaquim better access as the zombified man pressed closer still.
Clumsy hands, usually so sure of themselves, find their way to the hem of Danny’s pants. “Want…” Joaquim groans in his strange voice. “Want…”
“Whatever you want, Kimi.” It’s awkward, Joaquim’s movements stiff and alien as he tugs Danny’s clothes off. He doesn’t care, panic still trying to claw its way out of chest as he fumbles with Joaquim’s belt, sheds his own clothes. “Whatever you want,” Danny repeats as he hooks a now bare leg around Joaquim’s sharp, cold hip. “Always.”
Joaquim makes a noise, a cross between a familiar groan and feral growl. Another wave of fear crashes over him, entity writhing inside him, squirming in his soul, in his bones, as Joaquim’s mouth brushes over his collarbone. The skin of his back ripples again as the entity’s tentacles try to come forth, only quelling as Danny buries his nose into Joaquim’s soft red hair. It still smells like raspberries.
Something hard brushes against Danny's thigh, familiar made strange by the lack of warmth. He still knows what it is, would always know the feel of his lover's cock. The tip pressed against his hole, unknown fluid smearing against his skin. Precum? Maybe? Could Joaquim still produce precum? What else had been stripped from the pair? Autonomy, appearance, eyesight, freedom, and now life? Maybe. Joaquim’s cool tongue drags up the column of Danny’s throat, lapping up tears that still flow unfettered from Danny, carving tracks down his cheeks and sliding down his neck before staining his collarbones. He wouldn’t mind if Joaquim’s flat teeth ripped into him, pulled out his throat or turned him into a matching ghoul. It would be better than remaining alive and alone with Joaquim like this.
“...kov…sky,” Joaquim manages to get out, and Danny chokes on a sob at the mangled pet name. It’s the only warning he gets before Joaquim moves, hips snapping forward, burying himself in his partner in one savage thrust. Danny yelps at the harsh intrusion, but the burst of pain at being so callously fucked is quickly forgotten as Joaquim starts to move.
The entity withers inside Danny as pleasure courses through him, only kept from going completely dormant by the fear and despair thrumming under his skin. One of Joaquim’s strong, scared hands grips Danny’s hip, pinning him in place as he fucks into his willing body. No consideration is given to Danny’s comfort, Joaquim rutting into him in an almost animalistic frenzy. Arms draped around strong shoulders, Danny holds him close without hesitation as he’s pounded into.
Danny doesn't mind, couldn’t care if he even tried. All that matters is that it’s Joaquim, that this is his Kimi in his arms right now, slotted between his thighs, joined together. It’s with no shame that he moves as well, fucking himself on Joaquim’s thick cock. The movement allows Danny to grind his own leaking erection against his lover’s muscled stomach, the piercings on the underside of his shaft dragging against cool skin. It’s as if nothing is wrong at all. As if they’re just desperately pawing at each other like any other night, euphoria of surviving another day and fear of it all ending with recapture by the cult run by Joaquim’s crazy half brother Aksel fueling their frenzy.
Another growl escapes the zombified man, teeth bared as Danny’s entity gifted tail wraps around his wrist, curls up his forearm to his elbow. Whether some kind of warning from the entity or an embrace from Danny is unclear to either of them, but that doesn't seem to matter as the tail coils around his arm and constricts, but does nothing else.
“Joa-quim,” Danny moans, voice breaking in pleasure for the first time that night as he nears his end. Tears still wet his face, but he can’t help it. Maybe this is what ancient humans used to feel during a solar eclipse, awe and fear as the sun was shadowed. The cause unknowable, the future perceived dead. Did they embrace their loved ones until the moment the sun returned and showered them in light?
Would his sun return? Would he ever feel the warmth of that light?
Danny tries to pull Joaquim closer, an impossible task, bringing his mouth directly to Joaquim’s ear. Lips brush over piercings as Danny sighs out a choked, “I love you, Joaquim St. James.”
He’s answered with a strained groan, a half garbled attempt at a response, at a confirmation of shared feelings, but Joaquim isn’t able to articulate anything close to the words he used to murmur into Danny’s skin. He’d chant it, Danny knows he would. Knows that if Joaquim could, never ending praise and affirmations of love would be flowing past his lips.
It’s the imagined voice of his lover that sends Danny over the edge, groaning in the back of his throat as he spills over Joaquim’s stomach. It’s not long before Joaquim follows after him, shuddering against Danny and letting out a guttural, inhuman sound as he spends himself. Danny keeps his leg locked around Joaquim’s hip, part habitual desire to be filled with his partner’s cum, part not wanting to pull back and try to face the reality of their situation.
Joaquim huffs, trying to pull away weakly before slumping against Danny. Despite being the taller of the two, Joaquim was always the stronger. Having Joaquim’s full weight against him knocks Danny back, horns scraping on the bathroom wall as he struggles to keep standing as Joaquim lays against him.
“Sleep…y,” Joaquim managed to get out, strong arms wrapping around Danny’s middle and pulling him down.
Down to the cold tile floor. Down, down, down-
Danny jolts at the feeling of his body shifting down, strong arms cradling him to a broad chest as if he weighed nothing. Sleep blurs his vision, but he doesn't need to see to know who is holding him, carrying him. It’s too familiar of a feeling, too familiar of scent: burnt caramel and leather and raspberries and-
“Joaquim.”
Danny reaches up blindly, vision still fuzzy and movements clumsy, groping above him until his palms cradle Joaquim’s face. There’s a sound of amusement from the other man but he doesn’t get a chance to say anything as Danny pulls his face down to his, starting to plant kisses over every inch of warm skin he can reach.
Joaquim can’t help laughing, giggling between each kiss as Danny’s sudden onslaught keeps him from moving.
It’s as Danny’s lips brush over the tip of Joaquim’s nose that he finally feels settled enough to stop. Only then does he realize where they are exactly. Their dark living room, lit only by the rolling credits of a zombie movie Danny had recommended before promptly falling asleep on Joaquim’s shoulder.
“Sweet dreams, Dankovsky?”
Danny shudders, pulling Joaquim in for another kiss. “Nightmare,” he mutters against blissfully warm lips.
Joaquim frowns, kissing Danny back hard.
Settling back into his boyfriend’s arms with a content sigh, Danny allows Joaquim to start their journey to the bedroom. “Maybe no more zombie movies for a while, okay, Danny boy?”
Idiot, the Entity speaks in the back of his mind. Fool human. Scared of your own subconscious.
“Shut up, you’re only jealous you can’t kiss Kimi. Loser.”
Joaquim laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest as he continues to carry Danny to bed. “Sure am. It’s a dying shame I can’t kiss myself.”
Danny doesn't bother answering, smiling as he turns and presses a kiss to Joaquim’s chest, over his steadily beating heart.
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Ghoul if you don’t write Ghost absolutely falling apart ugly crying when he discovers what Gooses scar is about and how he possibly could have never met the love of his life Elmo is gonna SUE
Make. That. Man. Cry!!!
He doesn’t even bother knocking when he opens your door. You clutch your shirt to your chest, glaring over your shoulder at Simon. Rude. He just raises a brow and shuts the door tight behind him.
“Got a minute?” He asks, moving close, and you know you’re not going to tell him no. Not when his hand cups your face and he lets you tug his mask down to kiss him, your shirt forgotten on the floor.
He must’ve just come in. His skin is still warm from the sun where you touch him, and there’s the last taste of tobacco on his tongue. His hand slides over your chest as he kisses you, giving your breast an appreciative squeeze before dragging towards your fly. You make a quiet noise against his lips when it slips over your scar, his touch stilling against the slightly raised edges of it.
Simon's fingers feel over the scar, rough calloused pads dragging along the sensitive delicate skin. The ugly line of it where it cuts across your stomach. He drags his fingers along the whole thing, from your waist to where it stops just below your belly button. You wish you knew what he was thinking. You've had years to grow out of being self conscious, but that didn't mean it didn't still rear its ugly head. Especially when it was a man you-
Simon probably doesn't even care, his torso is littered with scars. You're sure he doesn't even remember how he got half of them.
"How'd you get this beauty?" He asks, so quiet you almost don't hear him.
"Sort of a blur," you tell him. He nods like he understands, you think he does.
"Tell me." Simon hums, dropping to his knees and pressing his lips to the top of the scar on your waist. You do your best not to wince, remembering the way the bull's horn had torn into you.
"Was helping the Lucas'," You start, "their bull is tipped now but back then they were all about-" Simon kisses you again, lower down the scar, your breath hitches, "-natural, uh, natural horns. I must've spooked it or something because it-" you let out a pained hum when he presses his lips lower still, tracing the line of the scar with his mouth, "-it caught me with its horn and ripped me clean open." You finish in a rush, Simon freezes.
"It what?" You hate when his voice goes even like that. When you can't hear his breathing anymore.
"Gutted, tore, nearly eviscerated," you give him the words the doctors used, that your dad used when he was upset. Your stomach jumps when Simon kisses it again, clean flesh this time, and presses his forehead against your diaphragm. "If Soap hadn't been there I probably wouldn't have made it," that's what the doctors had told him at least, "you know how long it takes EMS to get anywhere out here," Simon's fingers tighten on your hips, "he kept pressure the whole time, made sure all my guts stayed put."
You thread your fingers through Simon's hair, scratching and pulling affectionately, "It's funny I don't even remember what we'd gone over to help with, but I remember how blue the sky was while I was laying in the grass waiting."
Simon has gone very quiet. He's completely still, save for his thumbs rubbing small circles against your hips. You're not sure who he's soothing. It happens quickly, his arms wrap around your hips and lift you so fast you have to duck to avoid hitting the ceiling fan. Curling over his head before he drops you on your bed.
You let out a noise of surprise, opening your arms for him as Simon climbs on top of you and lays down. His head settled against your chest, his arms wrapped tight around your waist, he doesn't say a word and you- you don't either. You let him have his silence. You let him lay on you, listen to the beat of your heart, the way your lungs fill when you take a breath, the rush of blood, the sounds of life. A life he almost missed.
He's never been more thankful for one Sergeant MacTavish in his life. Never been more thankful for you, and all the little ways life had to go just right for him to meet you. Your fingers scratch the base of his skull, and you’re humming some quiet lilting tune he doesn’t know, but he wants to. He wants to know every thought that goes through your head, every kindness you’ll ever afford him. Every way he could show you he loves you.
“You cryin’ baby?” You ask him gently, there’s no judgement in your voice, just the question.
“No.” He lies, feeling you hum your acceptance.
“S’okay,” You tell him, “I don’t mind.”
And you don’t. So he does.
Big heaving silent sobs that shake his whole body, fat tears that you brush away with every gentleness. You don’t think Ghost has ever cried, but you think Simon has needed to for a while. And he’s crying for you, over a loss that didn’t happen, over the pain you went through. Over the lonely days waiting for your body to be whole again, and the fact that neither of you will ever be lonely again. Maybe you’ll be hurt, but never lonely. You’ll make sure of it. He’ll make sure of it.
"Johnny burn down the Lucas' house?" Simon asks, looking up from where he'd buried his face in your chest with watery eyes.
"Just their barn," you cup his cheek, wiping away a stray tear with your thumb. Simon gives you a little hiccuping sob around his frown and angry eyebrows.
"Should've killed 'em." It's a little hard to take him seriously when his voice wobbles like that. When his lip trembles and tears start falling again. You shush him, and let him press his face against you again.
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☾⋆⁺₊⋆quiet nights spent with Gale⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾
in Waterdeep (little bit of fluff, little bit of cozy)
The air is filled with the gentle glow of candles, casting warm light that dances across the walls. It creates an atmosphere of countless nights spent in the company of Gale. The open windows invite a gentle summer breeze, caressing your bodies as you both hunch over endless books, scrolls, and ancient parchments, studying and exchanging thoughts. The enchanted piano plays in the background. The night is starry and the moon is as beautiful as ever.
Sometimes you catch Gale massaging his temples while mumbling under his nose when he's reading his pupils' work. He shares some of his thoughts with you here and there, and you can't help but smile at his furrowed brows. It almost feels like you're teaching alongside him. When Gale looks particularly tired you massage his tense shoulders. (sometimes it ends up in the bedroom but that's a story for another time!)
Evenings on his balcony, now sitting in a favourite spot for both of you, involve conversations, wine and crips grapes. Heart to hear, you watch the horizon, enjoying each other's company. Sometimes words are unnecessary; you simply exist together, souls full of love and devotion. Blessed to be here, together.
As you prepare to sleep, Gale observes you with genuine interest and with those eyes that conveys pure admiration. He ask a lot of questions and is proven surprisingly knowledgable about skincare. Adores the smell of your damp, soft skin after a bath with some scented oils.
In bed, he reads "for pleasure", getting absorbed in the story. You can tell he truly loves reading and admiring the art of a good story. Sometimes Gale reads aloud, petting your hair or holding your hand gently until you fall asleep. And sometimes you're not sleeping at all, talking away the night, sharing your deepest thoughts. Eyes starry. You could tell him everything, and you feel like it's the same for him. Your connection goes far beyond being just lovers; you are soulmates.
you feel so loved when you are laying on his chest, hearing him hum peacefully, feeling his heart beating and magic coursing through his veins
you feel so loved when he kisses every one of your fingertips with such dedication
you feel so loved when he places his head on your tights; a gesture of profound affection and vulnerability
In the stillness of the night, Gale is even more loving, more romantic than he already is. Every night, he utters those three precious words,
" I love you"
as you fall asleep. His kisses your forehead gently, holding you in a tight embrace as if he never wanted to let you go. In the darkness, when it seems like there's only the two of you in this vast and strange world, Gale reveals the most exquisite, soul-ravaging declarations that leaves you breathless. It's a moment when time halts, and in the intensity of his words, you sense that Gale loves you with every fiber of his being.
*(and it's very vocal about it)*
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
you can find more of my works about gale ♡here♡
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