Nick Clark Imagines

Confessions at Sea

  Author's Note: So, I saw this gif of Nick and tumblr and totally told myself to write something on it and now we're here! This is my first fic for the FTWD fandom and I hope everyone enjoys it! 

Warnings: slight smut.

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People started getting sick the week before the outbreak and it's been almost two weeks since everything went to hell. The infected began to outnumber us, making the survival rate become slimmer, especially since we don't even know how to kill them, not yet anyway. When I had first encountered the undead, I was alone in my house.

There had been a crash somewhere in my house and I placed my phone on my bed, leaning out my door to listen in case I had just imagined it. I jumped when I had heard the noise again, silently closing the door, running over to my phone. My hands shook as I picked it up, dialing Nick, my best friend's, number. I groaned after I realized that the phones aren't working, running a hand through my hair.

"W-What do I do?" I asked myself, pacing in my bedroom, taking deep breaths. I went over to my closet, searching through it until I found my lucky baseball bat, gripping it tightly. I opened my bedroom door, tiptoeing towards the living room, glancing side to side before continuing towards the kitchen. My eyebrows furrowed together as I heard raspy growling, seeing a shadow stumble around the area in front of me.

I inched closer, gasping at the Mr. Jones who began trudging towards me. "M-Mr. Jones..." I muttered, stepping back, tripping over the coffee table as he growled at me, landing on top of me, and I place my bat at his throat, attempting to push him off of me as I screamed for help.

I heard my front door being kicked open, hearing Nick yell my name as I glanced over at him, seeing him in raggedy old clothes that he probably stole. Nick kicked the man off me, grabbing my bat and bashes his head until he stopped moving. I breathed heavily, leaning against my elbows as my heartbeat sped up, not knowing what the hell had just happened.

Nick threw the bat down, running over to me, tripping in the process as he kneeled beside me, his hands on my face. "Oh my god. Are you okay?" He asked and I placed one of my hands on his, nodding my head as I sat up.

"W-What the hell was that?" I whispered, glancing up at Nick, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. "I-I mean i-it was Mr. Jones, but..." I trailed off, starting to breath heavier, feeling my throat close up. Nick's eyes were searching mine, a worried expression on his face as he caressed my cheek.

"Y/N... hey, it's okay. He's dead." He muttered, leaning his forehead against mine.

And here I am, on this damn yacht with Nick, Maddie, Alicia, Travis, Chris, Daniel, Ofelia, and Strand who is the owner of this vessel. My mind always goes back to the day I encountered Mr. Jones in my kitchen, trying to eat my face, because of Nick. I've always been very fond of Nick, ever since I had first met him about three years ago. We would always hang out before he became a heroin addict then he just disappeared from my life, but I had already fallen for him at that point and it became so much more difficult to see the person you're potentially in love with throw away his life for drugs.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I felt a hand on my lower back, making me glance behind me, seeing Nick smiling lightly at me. "You okay?" He asked and I nodded my head, pressing my lips together as I looked back out at the ocean.

"Yeah, just thinking about stuff." I muttered, leaning into him slightly, glad to finally have some time alone with him. "I'm just glad you're okay. I began to lose my mind when the military had taken you and when you were locked in the corridor with all those infected, I seriously thought that there was a slight chance that I would lose you." I whispered, glancing up at him and the two of us walked towards the couch that was embedded in the boat.