#it's nearly 2022 and im still Like This. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spoonfulofmilo · 9 months ago

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okay like 2 months ago, I put out this moodboard, and @evans-dejong replied to it, and im gonna be honest that kind of inspired this whole fic

carlos sainz x male!royal!reader

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carlos sainz x royal!reader

2022 Spanish Grand Prix

“AND George Russell has locked up at the final chicane and Carlos Sainz sails on through BRINGING HIM ONTO THE PODIUM OF HIS HOME RACE ON THE LAST LAP OF THE SPANISH GRAND PRIX. AND WHAT A RACE THAT WAS. Max Verstappen crossed the finish line first, followed by his teammate Sergio Perez, and rounding out the podium we have Carlos Sainz for ferrari.”

It had been a hard race, Carlos spinning in the first 8 laps. But he’d done a very good recovery drive, getting up to the podium.

Y/N couldn’t help but clap his hands as he saw a ferrari and a spanish driver on the podium from the back of the Ferrari garage. He saw himself on the screens, and flashed a winning smile. His mum looked at him with exasperated fondness as he hopped around waiting for the drivers to get on the podium, so she could hand the trophies over. He’d been looking forward to it all weekend, the previous highlight being handing off the pole position award to the other ferrari driver.

“And now to present the trophies to the drivers on the podium, we have Crown Prince Y/N, representing the Spanish Royal Family.”

Y/N could almost feel his hands shaking as he picked up the 3rd place trophy and prepared to hand it over. He ran himself through what he was supposed to do

‘Pick up the trophy, display it to the cameras, don’t drop it, first to the person closest, they’re 3rd place, hopefully you’ve picked up the correct trophy Y/N, then as you’re handing it over, shake their hand, congratulate the spaniard, pose for a photo handing over the trophy, and then walk back. Repeat for 2nd place, they’re the one furthest away, not a Spaniard, repeat for team, it’s the mechanic who looks hella awkward on the really small podium, and finally do it for 1st. Then get out of the way before they start spraying champagne.’

And it almost entirely went to plan. He had nearly kissed the Spanish driver on the podium, because damn he was hot. But otherwise it had gone to plan.

Well, until, while trying to get out of the way and completing his task, he had gotten sprayed on the back of his new shirt. Damn.

He heard the cheers and yelling stop as everyone realised that he had been hit. Y/N snickered in his head at the thought that people were scared of him, worried that because he’d been hit by some champagne, that everyone would be executed. Instead he laughed it off, grabbed Carlos’ bottle and took a chug before wandering off the podium, laughing at the ruined shirt. His mother chastised him and fussed over him as he walked away laughing.

The Spanish ferrari driver was hot, sue him.

---

2022 Silverstone

“AND IN HIS 150TH RACE, CARLOS SAINZ WINS THE BRITISH GRAND PRIX. HIS FIRST VICTORY IN F1”

Y/N could hear the cheers, the announcement was a little blurred as he hugged Carlos O, Carlos’ cousin and manager, after waving the spanish flag through a gap in the fence, yelling and cheering over the noise of the engines. There wasn’t a lot of celebration in the garage, as Charles, who was contending for the championship, had had a horrible race, but who cared? Carlos had won, at least Red Bull hadn’t won, they were still contending for the championship.

“And what a day for Ferrari, but they won with the wrong car!” Ted shouted into his microphone as the celebrations kicked on.

“I’m sorry?”

“Uhh, sorry to everyone at home we now have Crown Prince Y/N from the Spanish Royal Family. Now Your Royal Highness, what did you say?”

“Well first, my title is Prince of Asturias. Not this ‘Your Royal Highness’ bullshit that you’re trying to lower my status to…”

“Sorry, language for the kids at home.”

“Oh, says you, Ted Kravitz. Hi Kids, my name is Crown Prince Y/N, or the Prince of Asturias, and I’m going to give you a… what’s the word…unbiased view of the grand prix today. Charles and Max were struggling today. Then there was a safety car, and Carlos was given a better strategy. Now, keep in mind kids, this was because Charles was not having a great day. Then Carlos was once again screwed over by Ferrari strategists, however for once in his life he stood up for himself, and made himself a good strategy and won himself the race. His first race win, after 150 race starts. There is no wrong driver to win with for Ferrari, and Carlos deserved that win as much as Charles did. Thanks Tommy.”

“It’s Ted…”

Y/N waited in Carlos’ driver room for him to arrive back from the media. Carlos meanwhile had been told by his cousin that Y/N was waiting for him, and tried to pass off his impatience as excitement over the win. He had barely seen Y/N since the win, being celebrated with his team, but he had spotted him on Carlos O and Carlos Sr. shoulders, cheering with the other Ferrari engineers, and butchering his own national anthem, which was always fun to watch. But he hadn’t seen him properly, been able to hold him and scream and kiss him.

And he couldn’t wait for that.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he reached the door of his driver room. He could sense Y/N behind that door, actually he could hear him, chatting to what he assumed were his younger sisters and parents.

He slowly opened the door, pushing it with his hips as his hands held his water bottle and his trophy.

He watched for a second, not wanting to disturb Y/N, especially if he was saying something royal that he wasn’t supposed to hear.

Y/N was lying on his stomach on the massage bed, his feet hanging off the end as he had propped his phone up against the wall. His feet were kicked up in the air, swinging backwards and forwards, as his head, which he was holding up by his hands, was bopping side to side as he talked to his family.

“Yeah, so just waiting for him to finish his post race debriefs and media and then he’ll be here soon, and I’ll hang up then, I don't want to scare Leonor again. By the way, Leo, how’s Gavi going? Feel like the last I heard was from some media article about how he wanted to focus on football and didn’t want a girlfriend distracting him, but I'm sure you’ve managed to persuade him otherwise…”

While Y/N was teasing his younger sister, he was cut off by his (quite unmanly) screams as Carlos grabbed him from behind and hugged him to his chest, swinging him back and forth.

Once he had reassured both his family and the bodyguards who had burst into the room with their guns drawn that he was fine and Carlos had just scared him, he hung up the facetime call and snuggled in with Carlos on the small massage table, and admired the trophy.

“It’s pretty…” his hand hovered over all the details “like you mi amor.”

“...huh, most people would describe me as handsome rather than pretty, mi vida”

“Not me, you’re my pretty boy.”

---

Silverstone 2023

“Hello! You must be Lando!” Y/N walked towards the Mclaren boy and gave him a hug.

“You're the crown prince of Spain.”

“Wow, he’s observant eh Chilli?”

“Mate, i mean this in the nicest way possible, how the fuck did you manage to bag the crown prince of spain?”

“I think the real question you should be asking is how I managed to bag the most attractive f1 driver?”

“Have you seen Fernando?”

“Good point. The most attractive Spanish f1… no no, that doesn’t work. Uhhhh, the second most attractive F1 driver.”

“what?”

"nothing darling, good luck for your race Lando and nice to meet you!"

---

Singapore 2023

“AND RUSSELL IS IN THE WALL. GEORGE RUSSELL IS IN THE WALL AND CARLOS SAINZ IS GOING TO TAKE VICTORY FOR THE SECOND TIME IN AMAZING CIRCUMSTANCES. SO FAR THE ONLY NON RED BULL DRIVER TO WIN A RACE THIS YEAR”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD!” Y/N couldn’t help screaming through the ferrari garage as the entire ferrari garage erupted as Carlos crossed the line first. His bodyguards were clearly trying to reach him, but he didn’t care as he gave a massive hug to every mechanic and an even bigger one to Fred as he kept screaming his head off.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD YES! VAMOS YES!”

He was gonna lose it. Carlos had won a race. And this one for so many more reasons felt better than the Silverstone win. No disputes about team orders or who was the better driver.

Carlos had done it all on merit.

Once again he was hoisted up on the Carlos’ shoulders to horribly butcher his own national anthem. He could see his bodyguards trying to push through the throng of mechanics, but the mechanics were pushing back equally as hard. Well if his bodyguards couldn’t get through a crowd of overexcited mechanics, then maybe that was a sign he needed new bodyguards. First one’s who could get through a crowd when necessary, but also ones who understood that he could do what he wanted. He saw the cameras, flicking between the 2 of them singing to each other horribly, but he didn’t care. So what if these photos and videos were all over the tabloids tomorrow.

Tonight was their night.

And nothing could change that.

nothing.

---

Spain 2024

Y/N walked onto the podium again, remembering how 2 years ago he had walked onto this stage and met the love of his life at that time.

Except this time, he was standing with the spanish flag around his shoulders, on the P1 spot, instead of the P3 spot as he was 2 years ago. His smile was bigger, and the cheers were louder, especially with Fernando Alonso in P2.

As Y/N handed off the P3 trophy to a grumpy Max Verstappen, a P2 trophy to an elated Fernando Alonso, who gave him a massive hug and shake as they jumped up and down. Very different from 2 years ago.

And after giving a constructors trophy to a confused team member, finally it was Carlos’ turn. Y/N smiled as he handed over the trophy, adoring the goofy grin on his face. He also hugged him, and Y/N only cringed slightly at the sweat that was now on his suit.

It’s okay. He was never expected to wear this suit again.

He barely got out of the spray zone before the champagne spraying had begun. At least as he thought.

He let out a very unroyal scream as he felt the cold champagne trickle down his back, turning around to the silence with Fernando having a cheeky grin on his face (this seems hella clunky). The rest of the paddock and the podium was frozen, as if worried that he was going to order Fernando’s execution. Instead, he held his hand out, as his mother passed him a bottle of champagne that he proceeded to spray straight in Fernando’s face.

And then as the champagne started to drain, Carlos leaned over and kissed Y/N square on the lips. First official show of affection, and as Carlos pulled away and flashed the cheeky grin at Y/N, he thought about how the royal PR people would be scrambling to confirm that yes, Carlos was courting the crown prince of Spain.

But he didn’t care

So he leaned in and kissed him again.

Y/N walked onto the podium again, remembering how 2 years ago he had walked onto this stage and met the love of his life at that time.

As Y/N handed off the P3 trophy to a grumpy Max Verstappen, a P2 trophy to an elated Fernando Alonso, who gave him a massive hug and shake as they jumped up and down. Very different from 2 years ago.

It’s okay. He was never expected to wear this suit again.

He barely got out of the spray zone before the champagne spraying had begun. At least as he thought.

But he didn’t care

So he leaned in and kissed him again.

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @badblondebisexualboy, @ghostking4m

#f1 x reader #miloformula123fan #f1 fanfic #f1 x male reader #f1 fic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x male reader #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n

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chcrryade · 2 months ago

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⠀⠀˚⠀DO YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME?⠀ ┉ ┉ ⠀None of them wanted this. Doyeon has to try and live with it anyway.

INCLUDING ⁺⠀kil doyeon, cherryade ensemble, jaguar staff. TIMESTAMP ⁺⠀NOVEMBER 2022—APRIL 2023. WARNINGS ⁺⠀swearing, (mentions of) fighting, drinking. WORD COUNT ⁺⠀5K NOTE ⁺⠀you don’t even know how much this made me want to end it all near the start.. WE FINALLY DID IT THOUGH! and im rly happy with it!!! i love u kil doyeon

Doyeon knew who JUST4U were.

Who in South Korea didn’t? You knew them even if you had absolutely no desire to. Their fame had stretched to all corners almost inevitably: their features were instantly recognisable, their name rolled off the tongue so easily it was hard to not to get it stuck in your head, and one of their many songs had almost certainly featured in some retail store in every city in every district, at least once. They’d even made it to Doyeon’s dead-end town, a poster of one of the perfume endorsements they’d done plastered on their singular bus stop’s wall. He’d stared them in the face every day while waiting to be picked up, and occasionally he’d daydream about what life must’ve been like in a city so far away.

(Which, retrospectively, was a little dramatic. Seoul was barely two hours away by train. He could’ve made a weekend trip of it, and just never thought to do so. Never thought he’d be allowed to do so).

Anyway. Back then. Bus stop. Daydreams. None of the above compared to how he knew JUST4U now. Now that they were about ten metres away from him (and, as it looked to be, everyone else in the company) right in the middle of the lobby, shouting and swearing at one another, looking nearly on the verge of getting physical.

Na Yeseul, platinum blonde dyed tresses whipping around her shoulders with every vigorous movement of her arms and dark purple lipstick painting every curse word she spat nectarine, raised an arm as if she was going to backhand Choi Insu across the face, before it then dove into her purse. Doyeon stepped a little closer to Daejin, a hand curling loosely around the producer’s forearm.

“You don’t think she’s got a…”

He trailed off, but it was obvious what he was referring to. Of course he didn’t really believe she had a weapon, however small, but the movement was so recognisable from all of the action and gangster movies Jaehee could never stop watching that it got him scared, just for a moment.

Daejin’s gaze of gentle judgement burned into the side of his face, but the dancer still couldn’t stop staring at the ongoing argument. “‘Yun. Be realistic, for a minute.”

Still, despite the light-hearted reality check, the producer also leaned in to nudge Doyeon’s shoulder with his own, and curled his hand up to squeeze the palm grabbing at him. In front of them, Insu let out a loud, unsettling laugh, throwing his head back with it. The scene felt very action-and-gangster-movie-like. Quite exciting, really. The leader’s gaze slid along to where Jaehee was watching wide-eyed, Minhui jumping up and down with both of his hands on his shoulders; looking like he was seconds from choosing a side and cheering them on, and felt a smile grow on his face, before a loud yell of “You cunt!” snatched his attention straight back to the main event.

“What are they even fighting about, anyway?” His words were a murmur, tapping at Daejin’s arm in case he hadn’t been heard. He’d been late to the scene, too busy practising alone, and had only found out there was a scene at all because Hasun had come running in with the news, an excited spark in his eyes that made him look like the child he never really got the chance to be.

In his peripheral vision, he saw the producer shrug. “The reunion interviewer, I think. That’s what I got from Joosun-hyung. He ignored Yeseul-noona. Or maybe made a pass at her? Or did he make a pass at Insu-hyung? It’s sort of a mix-and-match of both those things. Anyway, it started from there, and then it spiralled. You’d think after six years away from one another they would’ve buried the hatchet.”

Doyeon didn’t think any sort of burying was in the forefront of either of their minds. They seemed to be producing more and more hatchets out of thin air with the sole intention of throwing them straight at one another, if anything.

But it couldn’t last forever. Someone would have to step in eventually. Not that anyone seemed particularly keen to do so, at the moment. Even the secretary at the front desk had abandoned her post (where, should she had stayed, she would’ve had a front-row seat that Doyeon almost envied) and was now standing in the doorway used for deliveries, a nail file in her hands that she was paying more attention to than the fight. The CEO seemed like the obvious choice to do the mediating, but as it stood, Ae Seungdae was standing in the prime position—obviously a few metres away, but still right in the middle of the two—and.. Clapping? Fist pumping? Whatever the hand gestures were, they looked to be more of encouragement than attempts to stop the shouting. Doyeon almost admired it.

“Hyung,” a voice came from behind him, and the leader almost jumped out of his skin. Whipping his head around, he was faced with Yijun standing from where he’d been leaning against one of the walls and walking forward, away from where Daejin and Doyeon were. A phone was pressed to his ear, and Doyeon knew eavesdropping was generally looked down upon, but.. It was Yijun. He justified his decision by telling himself it would help him get to know the rapper just a tiny bit better. Or at all, really. His attention was fully diverted from the has-beens for the first time since he’d been dragged down into the lobby, although he kept his eyes facing forward so as not to raise suspicion.

“You’ve gotta get here, like, now! It’s so funny, really.. Yeseul-noona and Insu-hyung are back at it again. Youngshik-hyung looks like he’s about to either burst into tears or start jumping for joy, I can’t decide.”

Whoever he was talking to must’ve declined the offer, because Yijun groaned down the phone, eyes rolling and shoulders slumping. It was the most Doyeon had seen him express an emotion that wasn’t anger (or at least irritation) for more than five seconds. He was reeling.

“Hyeonmin-ah. Hyung. Please? I thought I was your favourite.”

Hyeonmin. The name rang a bell, but he couldn’t remember where from. It didn’t come to him until Yijun had stalked off across the lobby floor, the rest of his conversation lost to the sound of screams and laughter, the general buzz of everyone in the room. Hyeonmin. Oh Hyeonmin. One of Yijun’s old members, like Jaehee. Except he hadn’t made the CHERRYADE cut, for whatever reason.

Doyeon thought of the playful whine in Yijun’s tone. “Hyung.” The disappointment that pulled at his sharp features when he was denied. Huh. It was something to dwell on, to turn over his head for just a little longer.

But for now, seeing as no one was going to stop the once-duo—the duo that he’d longed to know, years and years ago—anytime soon, carrying on watching the fight of the year (in his opinion, anyway) was far closer to the top of his list of priorities. He slumped a little onto Daejin, making the producer hold half of his weight, grinning when he felt the half-hearted glare directed at the side of his face again, and got comfortable.

December hit. Jaehee insisted on buying every tin of hot chocolate powder he set eyes on. Minhui wouldn’t be caught dead without wearing a fluffy coat of some sort. He heard more curses on Yijun’s name then he saw the boy himself. Haeil was putting Baileys in every beverage he drank. Jalen bought himself an advent calendar and, after seeing how much Hasun was eyeing it every morning, bought one for him too. Hasun had cried when he got it, though he’d pretended he wasn’t, and Minhui had cracked up over the sight of it (although his laughter was followed by over-the-top babying, as was any of his interactions with the maknae).

December hit. Doyeon was starting to get worried. Wouldn’t anyone? Eight months since their last comeback, eight months since they’d been on stage, and maybe seven since they’d been out—doing things, promoting things, having fun even if they were exaggerating every laugh for the sake of the camera. Four months since Jalen’s interview, the one he was excited for even if he protested vehemently against that fact, the one where he told the interviewer that they hadn’t heard much on the schedule side of things. Doyeon never thought he’d long for a makeup artist to plaster his cheeks in foundation two shades too light and for the familiar burn of hair dye to singe his roots, but a faint itch was starting to settle under his skin. A want.

One that he probably couldn’t do anything about.

He’d sat with that probably for days, tossing it over and over in his head. Trying to come to terms with it, to accept it as fact, and only getting frustrated when it just wouldn’t settle, refusing to leave. Like something stuck in his throat, a nagging feeling he couldn’t shake.

All that was rational was shaking him by the shoulders, striking him across the cheek, watching the pale skin stain red. Eight months. Maybe even eight months more. And there’s nothing you can do about it. You’ll have to listen to the crying, and the door slamming, and clean the bottles from the kitchen, and forget your card pin because you know your account’s getting emptier, and you’ll just have to shrug your shoulders. What can you do about it? You, of all people?

Everything else was kicking and screaming, his heart tearing itself out of his chest to protest. I don’t want to listen, or clean, or forget. I’ve done enough of that. All of that. I want to do something. I don’t want eight months more—I don’t want one month more, even. I know I can’t do much, but I want to do this. Let me. Let me!

No answer came. And, similarly, no schedules did, either. They’d all noticed, but no one had come to him and brought it up yet. Yijun probably would’ve been the first to make a scene, but.. Well. You knew something was up when you’d been seeing Kil Jiyeol more than your own group member for the past few weeks. So it had stayed stagnant, kicked underneath the carpet, the album cover-shaped elephant in the apartment.

Until Minhui broke first, dragging Haeil along with him. Doyeon paused from where he was rummaging around in the fridge, not turning his head but waiting. Waiting for them to confirm his suspicions out loud, seeing as he hadn’t been able to muster up the courage even when it was only him alone in his bedroom.

“Hyung,” Minhui began. He sounded as blunt as ever, but the lighter edge was gone.

“Minhui-yah,” Doyeon answered, and swallowed around nothing. His hand felt shaky when he came to grip the glass jug full of water. “What is it?”

“You know what it is.”

That he did. He pressed a hand to his forehead, tried to swallow once more and winced when it felt harder this time around, and closed the fridge door. He didn’t turn around. Not yet. “I.. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know—but I want to know, Minhui, I really do. I’m just as happy about this as you are. As any of us are.”

It was then he turned on his heel to face them, to show better than he could ever say how he was feeling. He locked eyes with Minhui first, the dancer perched atop the kitchen island with Haeil slumped into one of the stools beside it. Sitting with his arms and legs crossed, the childlike pose was a stark difference from the expression on his face. They stayed in their stalemate until, surprisingly, Haeil was the one to break it.

“Why don’t you just.. Ask?”

When two pairs of eyes turned to him, he hunched in on himself; shoulders drawing up as if anticipating a slap. “I only mean.. Because, you know. Daejin-hyung, and stuff. You’re close, aren’t you? Or at least Joosun-hyung. He’s been here the longest.”

It made sense. Sort of. They were close, sure, but how much say would a producer have in the grand scheme of things? Most likely not a lot, usually, but.. He may have had a point with Joosun. He had been here the longest, almost since the beginning. Or rather, the beginning of the new JAGUAR. It was admittedly better than nothing, and he stayed quiet for a few seconds more to think it over a little longer.

“I’ll try,” was what he finally decided on, opening his mouth again to get another few words in before they could jump in. “But don’t get your hopes up. Please. I don’t want to..” Let you down. He couldn’t really bring himself to say it, voice trailing off and eyes drifting off to the corridor behind the two instead of meeting either of their eyes.

“I think if anyone could get us some actual work, it’d be you, hyung. But yeah, we won’t expect to be shoved into a recording booth by next week, or anything. Should we tell the others?”

Minhui’s eyes were wider, looking far more alive than they had earlier, awaiting Doyeon’s response. But telling the rest meant there’d be more he’d have to risk letting down, even if Minhui had just told him he’d be fine, with Haeil giving a silent nod of assent beside him. But—no. Not yet. He said as much to the pair before him.

“I’ll tell Jalen. The rest.. Later.” He threw a half-hearted attempt at a joke in afterwards, with a weak laugh to try and make it a little more convincing. “Yijun would have to be here for any of us to tell him. Where even is he these days?”

Haeil rolled his eyes, Minhui snickered to himself, and neither of them answered his question. Doyeon took that as an answer unto itself. Maybe it was better he didn’t know.

The duo left the kitchen not long after that, Haeil out the door with a lighter in one hand and Minhui back to his bedroom, and Doyeon finally turned back to the fridge. He poured himself a glass of water, sat at the island, and stared into nothing for a long, long while; drink untouched, fingertips tapping nearly-silently on the marble. It wasn’t until the sun had set that he finally moved. Mind a little clearer, a sort-of plan set in place, a rough script of what he was going to say to Daejin, and to Joosun, in his head.

A starting point, if nothing else.

The new year came and went. They’d stayed in—most of them, anyway. Minhui had gone to a friend’s, said something about setting off fireworks and playing Dance Dance Revolution, and Hasun had gone home for a week or two, Eunhee coming to pick him up without sparing a second look at any of the rest of them. The remaining five ended up congregating in the living room and sitting in the dark, watching the city from the window. Yijun was glued to his phone in the corner, hiding it from anyone who dared to even try to peek (and, as usual, especially from Jaehee, who almost got a foot to the face for his nosiness). Doyeon turned his own phone off and left it in his room, nestling into a corner of the sofa and pretending not to notice how close Jalen and Haeil were sitting—how their faces almost brushed whenever they turned to whisper something into the other’s ear—while savouring every small sip he took of his Buck’s Fizz, raising an arm for Jaehee to cram himself under after having gotten over his ten minutes spent sulking and recovering from his nearly-injury. It was.. Nice. The nicest the atmosphere had been for a while. A chance for him to put off his impending responsibility for a little while longer.

The deflection didn’t work for much longer. It was his own guilt that gave him the push he needed to get on with it—and maybe Haeil’s empty stares whenever they passed one another in the apartment, saying everything without a single word leaving his lips, helped a little as well. He could be so haunting sometimes, Doyeon hated the chills it gave him.

So there he was, face-to-face with the door of Daejin’s studio. It had felt weird entering the company building after not seeing it for.. Going on four months. He’d taken to renting out studio rooms when he wanted to dance, unsure if he’d be able to stomach entering the practice rooms with the weight of all the things he wasn’t there to do laying heavy on his shoulders the whole time. His hand went for the doorknob, but faltered halfway and he reached to knock instead. A slightly muffled call for him to come in reached his ears, and he slowly pushed the door open.

“What do you—Doyeon! I haven’t seen you since..” He trailed off, and Doyeon didn’t know what he was so apprehensive about filling the gap with. Since the fight. Since you got stuck in a hiatus you didn’t know about. Since you started doing nothing even though you didn’t want to. Whatever it was, Daejin brushed it away with a palm gesturing through the air, putting the unspoken words out of mind. “It’s been a while, that’s all. What’s up?”

“I need to talk to Joosun-hyung about something. Or rather, I need to ask him something. I guess I just wanted to know if you think.. If what I’m doing makes sense.”

Daejin leaned back in his chair, the dark leather creaking with the movement, and spread his arms out either side of him. “Hit me.”

Doyeon did as asked, trying not to feel too stupid while the words spilled out of his mouth. He knew it was something he wanted, something they all wanted, but the embarrassment still made itself present on his cheeks, the nape of his neck heating up uncomfortably underneath his hoodie. Coming from his mouth, it sounded more like a plan a child would come up with and present in a mess of coloured crayons and star stickers than anything else. Still, Daejin listened to every word.

“That.. Actually makes sense. I think you could get somewhere with that, especially if he lets it slip to Jitae first. Good on Haeil-ah for coming up with it!” Daejin praised while Doyeon gulped in lungfuls of air, having spit out everything he’d been mulling over in one single go. “Joosun-hyung’s downstairs on a smoke break—or, he was when I last saw him. Good luck! And tell me how it goes afterwards!”

He dutifully promised the producer he’d do just that, and then left the studio again; head feeling a little cloudy, feet staying stuck to the carpeted corridor as if unsure of where he should head to next. But he was so close he could practically taste it, now, and the split-second memory of Minhui and Haeil staring back at him in the kitchen again was all the encouragement he needed to march to the end of the hallway and shoulder open the fire escape door, descending the stairwell with as much speed as he could muster up; footsteps echoing off the walls all around him.

As he went, he began to idly draft an imaginary script of the conversation he would soon have to have, as if writing a play. Admittedly he’d never been all that good at anything drama-related, but his imagination could get overactive when it wanted to. Nevermind whether he wanted it to or not, of course.

The curtain rises on a dreary January mid-morning, focusing in on two figures outside the JAGUAR company building—the side nearest the cluster of restaurants and taller office blocks that close in on it on most sides. One is smoking, sunglasses over his eyes (despite the lack of sun to protect them from), with unruly hair sticking up all over the place in a clear just-woke-up way rather than anything intentional. The other is pulling alternately at his own fingers and the drawstrings of his hoodie, the hood of which has been pulled hastily over hair with two-month-old roots sprouting from the crown—hair he would rather only be seen by as little people as he could help. There’s nothing but the sound of ash burning until the non-smoker cracks his knuckles once more and breaks the silence.

DOYEON⠀So, er, Joosun-hyung. I wanted to—talk. To you.

JOOSUN (he turns his head, and gives DOYEON a slightly bemused look)⠀Talk, then?

DOYEON⠀Right. Sorry. I don’t know why I.. I think this cold is really freezing my brain.

JOOSUN⠀Wrapping up warmer might help. Aren’t you cold?

DOYEON (unconvincingly)⠀Not at all.

JOOSUN (rolling his eyes)⠀Sure. Hurry up and say what you want to say already.

DOYEON⠀I just wanted to ask if you think—If you would— (he’s floundering, struggling to find the words and continues to for a few moments until a final question bursts out of him) Can you help us have a comeback?

JOOSUN stares. His cigarette falls from his fingers, down to the concrete beneath them. Silence once more. Cars rush by, the two continue to stare, the curtain falls.

By the time he’d reached its end, cold air was hitting his face and the smell of smoke was evident. Doyeon looked up only to find Joosun already staring right at him.

He took another deep inhale, trying to put off the fact it was probably half made-up of second-hand smoke, and straightened his shoulders before starting to speak. It was just a matter of following his own made-up script, was all. Easy.

The curtain has not yet risen again, but words are still heard from behind them. Hesitant, as if he’s choosing them carefully, but words all the same.

JOOSUN (after an extended pause)⠀You’re crazy. And Haeil-ah is too. All of you are, what the fuck? But.. Yeah, ‘Yun, I’ll help you. I’ll see what I can do.

Alcohol, hair dye, dance, and Minhui largely made up the February-March stretch. His birthday was the clearest memory he had of the two-month-long blur, even if that night was arguably the one he drank the most. Everyone was there, in the apartment that had been forcefully made into a home, and he was deciding he’d had enough every five minutes, and someone had dug out a disco ball that was hurting his eyes, and Yijun had taken one disgusted look at his roots and yelled over whatever house remix of something or other that Jiyeol had made Jalen bump up to the top of the queue for him: “Hyung! I’m dying those for you, like, ASAP. It hurts me to look at them,” and Doyeon had nearly burst into tears on the spot. Out of gratitude. Out of shock. Out of too many Mojitos and not enough courage to do it himself.

The dance and Minhui went hand-in-hand. It started when he asked if he could join him on one of his rented studio hours, which was easy enough to agree to, and then before he knew it once a week they were running through all the choreos they knew and making up the ones they didn’t, freestyling to each other’s playlists and collapsing onto one another exhausted after the music had ended. They always grabbed food afterwards, taking turns to pay, and Doyeon felt the most normal he had in.. A while. The routine was comforting, grounding. And most of all, it was fun. He never failed to crack a smile on any of their outings, fondness feeling as it was pouring out of his chest. He supposed he and Minhui were sort of similar, in a way. They had both come from somewhere else alone, built into the seven as the lone once-idols. Granted, Minhui’s old group was far more successful than Slow Motion ever were, but still.

Doyeon had no idea if he had any of the same sort of effect on Minhui—he doubted it, although he held the few times he’d made him crack up laughing close to his heart—but he was glad for him all the same. Glad he’d reached out, even if it was just to try and stop Doyeon from looking so blank all of the time rather than for his own desire for some company.

They never brought up Joosun’s answer, although as soon as he’d rushed back up the company stairwell to tell Daejin of the good news (and stayed there for a while longer for the celebratory jumping around and yelling and then eventual catch-up conversation the producer wanted to have afterwards) the pair that had confronted him first were the second to know as soon as he got back to the apartment. It’d been two months of nothing, after all, and neither wanted to face the fact that the ‘don’t get your hopes up’ message was ringing a little too true.

The other five had been doing fine over the last couple of months also—as far as Doyeon could tell, anyway. Jaehee had started to teach Hasun how to cook, even if he himself was rusty (resulting in a few occasions where the smoke alarm started screeching and, in return, the others started screeching as well), Yijun was back to staying in the apartment most of the time (taking to locking himself in his room whenever someone got on his nerves, rather than booking it out of the front door), and Jalen had slowly got back into his music-making—he’d stopped not too long after the reunion fight and the not-confirmed-but-obvious-hiatus they’d been put on, not stating anything but lack of inspiration as his reason, but Doyeon had always thought it was more than that. Not that he’d ever gone the extra step and asked. He’d had a suspicion that would've only made him clam up more, and that was something he didn’t really want to risk.

All in all, they’d coped. Sort of. It was the best they were going to get at it, anyway. They were creeping up to April, now, and the more he thought about it the more sick he felt. So he of course opted for the far easier option—forgetting all about it. He took the calendar off of the corkboard in the kitchen, replaced it with one of Haeil’s quick sketches he’d found on the back of an old receipt. He danced twice a week, once with Minhui and once without. He took himself to lunch, and Jalen to dinner. He let Jaehee shove a controller into his hands and played whatever gun game he chose until his eyes were blurry and his head ached. Maybe it was madness finally catching up to him, the months upon months of feeling so lifeless finally put to an end. Maybe he just didn’t care. All Doyeon knew was that he hadn’t felt this good since he was being crammed into tacky stage outfits and filmed doing whatever the people behind the camera told him to do for most hours of the day.

On the very first day of April, though, his—all of theirs—new normal was thrown on its head. Just as they’d been finding a rhythm, learning to live with it all. He was woken up by a banging on his bedroom door, sun barely risen enough to spill through the cracks in his curtains.

He flung a hand out to reach for his phone. The screen read 5:42, and Doyeon wanted to die. Stumbling out of bed was only slightly harder than opening his eyes, and by the time he reached the door and yanked it open his vision had gotten a little clearer. Although, when he saw who was on the other side, he had to blink twice to make sure it wasn’t an apparition conjured up in a dream. Or a nightmare, depending on how you looked at it.

It was none other than Hong Jaeyoung was staring back at him for the first time in over a year, eyes flat and disinterested as they’d always been, suit ironed down to the last wrinkle, his lemon yellow tie the only pop of colour about him. Doyeon almost stumbled backwards, mouth opening with no words coming out. Jaeyoung only raised an eyebrow in return.

“Did you not hear me the first time? I said get up. You wanted this, didn’t you? Not gonna be a good look if you all turn up late.”

You wanted this, didn’t you? Did he mean..? No. Surely not. While Doyeon was still floundering, the early morning chill stark against his bare legs, the manager rolled his eyes, half turning on his heel before turning back to confirm his suspicions. His hopes.

“Yes, idiot, you’re getting your jobs back. For now. Maybe not if you’re not in the car by six.”

And with that he was gone, turning to deliver a sharp kick to Jaehee’s door on the way. Doyeon walked out from his doorway and looked down the hallway, Hasun meeting his gaze with similarly wide eyes. Silence lagged on between them before a spark of mischief lit up in the maknae’s eyes.

“I’ll race you, hyung!”

He was taking off full-speed the second the words left his lips, and Doyeon was frozen on the spot. Before—laughter. He just couldn’t stop laughing, shoulders heaving and tears springing to his eyes. Laughter at the suddenness of the news, at Hasun’s antics, at the feeling of the weight of the world finally being shoved off of his shoulders. He felt free, even if really he was about to start being the opposite for the first time in over a year.

Still unable to stop the little giggles from his laughing fit, Doyeon gave chase to Hasun down the corridor, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. Free. Not really, of course, but.. It was more than good enough for him. For all of them.

#⠀Ꮺ◞⠀CLUB CLASSIC!⠀⠀⸻⠀⠀writing.#BOY FINALLY!#kpop oc #fictional kpop group #fictional idol community #idol oc #fictional idol group

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imaginemcyt · 11 months ago

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being childhood best friends with cc!ranboo would include...

synopsis: what it was like growing up best friends with ranboo

tw: none!

listen to: count on me by bruno mars, twin size mattress by the front bottoms, the best day by taylor swift

you probably met in your early school days, most likely first grade or so (you'd be like 6 for those of you who don't go to american public school!)

you'd become friends pretty fast, always picking each other during partner work time and playing with each other on the playground

you probably poked at worms and drew each other little pictures 😭😭😭😭😭

growing up your parents knew him and their parents knew you, so you'd always spend time at each other's houses

summers were always the best because you got to spend nearly every day together, always swimming at his house or riding your bikes around your neighborhood

when you were twelve, you got into a pretty big fight and didn't talk to each other for almost a month. it was the longest you'd ever been apart, and you both cried when you finally made up. your parents were extremely worried about the two of you

when you got to be about 13, your body changed quickly, and they were always the first to hype you up when you felt down about yourself, and they always stuck up for you if you got bullied or received unwanted attention

he became a personal guard dog for you 😭

they'd literally just intimidate people with their height and that's all it took

you were his support system when discovering his gender and sexuality and they will never ever forget that

you're genuinely their soulmate. even if not romantically, you're two halves of one whole, and you both know it deep down

you're the first person he goes to when he blows up online

you're in full support, but you want to remain completely anonymous and uninvolved

you don't want their clout, and they love you for that

everyone around you thinks you guys are dating, and you don't make a big deal out deal of denying it, just a simple "no, they're just my best friend!"

as ran continues to grow online, you remain entirely out of the public eye for a couple years

in late 2022, he introduces you to his fanbase and they love you!!

after that you still stay pretty private, only really joining for a couple streams and videos here and there

chat always asks about you

they love to tell stories about you on stream

when he moves to the uk, you cry harder than you ever have, but you understand that he sort of needs to for his career path, and you're in support

they promise to still call and text you every day

before he leaves though, you guys kinda have an "oh, duh" moment where you're like,, wait. you're an adult, too,, you could literally just go with him.....

so you do! you move to the uk with them!

your parents all see you off and you all cry together, but they know you'll be alright because you have each other to lean on

eventually you're introduced to aimsey, bill, tommy, tubbo (im delulu), freddie, and others such as wilbur, james, ash, phil, and charlie

you are an official member of cricket crew

sometimes you guys will go back to america and visit your hometown in california, driving together down your old town's streets, windows down and music up, reminiscing

they will cuddle you or hold your hand (/p) if you ever want or need them to

ceo of piggyback rides.

he knows you so well that you don't even have to ask

tesco trips. y'all never have to argue about who is going to do the shopping, you always go together because it's fun. hanging on the shopping buggy, riding it through the aisles, buying a bunch of things that you most definitely do not need

they 100% spoil you. they will buy you anything and everything, just because they wanted to. you try to do the same as much as you can, but he always wins because they have that streamer money 😔

you both have so many stories and so much blackmail on each other

and photos... my god, the pictures yall have........

birthday gifts are never serious, you always get each other gag gifts and inside joke related gifts

christmas is when you literally spoil each other

they always bring home your favorite snacks when they're out

if you're a gamer, they're introducing you to new games they found and learning how to play them with you

if you're not a gamer, he's teaching you how to play his favorites just for fun!

if they get too scared playing a horror game they'll call you into the room and make you sit with them and be scared too :P

you guys have this sixth sense, when something is wrong, you just... know. ran's upset? you don't even have to talk before you're already hugging him. you're sad? he's leaving tommy's house right now because he can't explain it, there's just a disturbance in the force

whenever anyone asks how you guys met/how long you've been friends, he always sounds so proud when he says "oh, i've known them my whole life!"

y'all are so sweet i swear to god

#mcyt #mcyts x reader #x reader #ranboo headcanon #ranboo x reader #ranboo #ranboo mcyt #cricket crew x reader #cricket crew

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jazzically · 2 months ago

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magp 8

ugggh even though im listening for it i dont always notice norris slipping into human voice till ex post facto it's completely seamless which is just AGAIN ITS SO SO COOL I ADORE THIS IDEA

OOH MY GOSH ABANDONED SPACE NEEDLE?!?!?!?!?

brilliant. fabulous lovely fantastic. i havent written much bc ive been concentrating too hard on understanding the academic paper lol but it's sooo goood i love this

hell yeah metaphorical hunger and spooky parking lots

UGH OK SORRY (im only apologizing to myself bc i keep pausing per every 10 seconds audio) but like another reason this episode is gorgeous is that even throughout the description of the experience, the author maintains a mostly academic tone and references the original purpose of telling the story when appropriate. in short, this new format — and every such new medium of storytelling brought to the series through each episode — is not some flimsy shell covering up a spooky statement, some excuse to tell the tale that needs to be conveyed. this case actually sounds like a scholar's genuine description of the events that led him to begin a scientific study and OOOGH THATS!!!! MARVELOUS

k back to listeni Oh another thing — alex does really well with controlling the amount of subtle pauses and inflections in speech (decreasing their frequency when robotic, increasing their frequency when speaking as a human)

OOOOH IS THIS ONE A CALLBACK TO MAG 48: LOST IN THE CROWD MAYHAPS..... (i love that episode did you know i love that episode)

with the matching clothes and eVERYthing god

ykw i see it now. valid. the stranger. as far as im concerned theres still a case for the lonely so these two are giving more of like a mashup of both i think

AUGH im doing it again. stop trying to categorize!!!!!

THIS IS ACTUALLY SO SCARY WTF

i dunno i just really like that at the beginning alice assigns these names to the computer's various voices and we just start calling them that. it feels so natural, like another office shtick, that you forget we don't actually know their names

oh wait he actually did lose his finger!!!? whoa

god i just love alice

alice's and gwen's personalities are very interesting

aw man i miss teddy dude. he seemed like a great guy. i didn't quite register fully that bro was leaving (although now that i can sort of see the larger structure of the story unfolding, i understand the setting up of plot in ep 1 better. it feels cool to think about)

geez this is a long one

FOLY HUCK

GIGI???????

HOLY CHRISTHUBIJOGSIEIHS ITS ACTUALLY GERRY I MISSED YOU GERRY I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

ok so is this an actual alternate universe??? or did this just happen before gerry died ???????? huh???????? then how do they have jonny's and martin's voices on some random old computers????? OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO screams and fixates and yells

GERTRUDE YAAAAASSSSSSSSS i hope she gets to cackle i really really do

ok wait this can't possibly be in the past because the ep about the voyeur blog post movie thing had entries from like 2022 iirc

HUH

oh yea i nearly forgot gerry paints!!!

This is so fricking funny i bet gerry keeps calling gertrude "gigi" just to annoy her

WAIT is he actually her grandson?? was that mentioned in the original series ???

gertrude answer the question

AWW GERRYS HAPPY he sounds so joyful and it makes me wanna cry he was so cool and awesome and deserved better in tma

TELEPORTATION??? HELLO?

OMG CELIA WAS ON WTG THE WORLDBUILDING GOES CRAZY

wHEW ok that was a long (and amazing) one. lot of HMMMs goin on in my head rn. EEEEE

#tma #tma spoilers #tmagp #the magnus protocol #tmagp spoilers #jazz freaks out about tmagp #tma.txt

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bisexualmcqueen · 30 days ago

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Twerk I love your art so much, I missed it so much 😭😭!! You've progressed so much and I literally love all of the detail you put into your pieces like holy cow???

Also what drawing platform do you use, and do you still do art streams? (Because I'd love to come watch them again 🥹🫶)

HI STORMIEE

this is so nice im losing it 😭💖thakn you 🥺

i missed my cars art too fr, but i finally went on my inevitable furry art training arc 💪 i return rejuvenated!!

youre right, i looked back at some of my really old stuff recently and its crazy how far ive come. i always feel like i progress wayyyy slower than most artists (i am a hobbyist after all), so being able to finally see improvement with hindsight is such a gift. my only art goals are to be able to communicate my ideas in a way that makes me happy- any improvement is a very useful bonus XD. im very glad you agree, and even happier that you noticed.

oo!! software!! this is a good question, because it's changed since i was last drawing cars!! [still using a pc + my little 2009 wacom pentablet. im shocked it hasnt died yet.] i swapped over to Clip Studio Paint fulltime in 2022 [previously used SAI2]. i had a weird living situation for a while and had to use my ipad for a time, and i got soooo sick of the limitations of procreate that i swapped to CSP. i realized it was time to put on my big boy pants and dig in to learn more complicated software, and im very glad i took the time to do so. i wasnt able to draw nearly as much as id like in 2022-23, but in april-may 2024, i spent time reorganizing my CSP on my PC with custom brushes/materials/tool settings, a custom workflow, custom color palettes, custom hotkeys, and then training to relearn the muscle memory for efficient, uninterrupted work with the new setup. by july i was back to drawing comfortably. CSP has opened many doors for creative freedoms with its capabilities. i cannot recommend it enough. (also, ive gotten bigger on references. another pleasant inevitability.)

art streams! ...i actually havent done any in years, because of the aforementioned weird living situation. i totally fell out of the habit. i used to stream fairly regularly to twitch, picarto, and discord, but alas. (nowadays, once in a while ill sit in discord with a screenshare open, if my old CPU doesnt scream and wail at me too much and crash the stream that is. i could look into doing discord screenshares in the cars server again perhaps?)

thank you again for the kind words <3 !!

#ask #reply #twerk talks art

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jiminjeonging · 24 days ago

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I think the winter, karina, giselle instagram live they did in august 2023 is peak jmj angst yearn

So in my personal timeline headcanon (and I think shared by a lot of others) 2023 was a patchy time for them - early on going into a more platonic / no sex era (due to arguments that came from over complicating their friendship, but they still felt romantic + sexual things for each other, which then became more intense the longer the tried to stay away from each other). I think the tour was what made them start hooking up again- the freedom of being away from Korea, the adrenaline from tour, the being together constantly. So at the time of this live, we have a jmj who hookup in secret on tour, pretending to themselves and to each other it’s not romantic, which is then making them unconsciously tetchy and on edge with each other when they’re not hooking up (on stage, in rehearsal- this again is also enhanced by the being together all day everyday with tour rehearsals and the performances themselves).

Now in the live we see

- a kind of off energy the whole way through. Of course they’re still friends and acting like such but also compared to their 2022/earlier lives where they were clingy + affectionate to this? It just makes the whole vibe a bit.. it seems like jm is less comfortable than when she did lives alone or with aeri in this era (see: her hiding her face, her wanting to go off camera occasionally, her needing a break to “get sweets”)

- despite this, jm is clearly staring at mj a lot this live. When she does turn her head from the screen, it’s nearly always at mj even when she’s not talking. And there is a very noticeable point where she is looking at mj through the screen (she smiles to herself when mj pulls a face)

- kind of jealous jm? Whenever aeri and mj are interacting or joking or laughing between them jms face falls completely flat. I wouldn’t say she looks angry or jealous persay but she just stops talking and smiling and stares dead faced - maybe more dare fetched but her completely out the blue calling out that fan that said they wanted to date mj 😭

- maybe fits with the jealousy thing but it needs a point of its own bc it makes me laugh- mj talking about snails and goes “unnie can’t eat snails though”, then jm immediately going “I can ?” and then getting corrected when mj reveals she was talking to giselle instead 😭 she assumed she was in mjs head as much as mjs in hers

- and speaking of! The classic jm mid conversation laughing to herself about a conversation her and mj had and then awkwardly having to explain it

- mj as well just seems not very interactive with jm? When it was conversations of the three of them they’d all talk, and yes it probably was hard for them to interact with giselle in between them- but again going from mj who would lean over people just to hold jms hands to an mj who didn’t even really look at her much? Combined with jm just giving a kind of sad energy

- jm making a comment that she hoped nn scared winter through the hotel walls in the middle of the night. The joke itself was normal but that whole section seemed so odd again. (Theory is jm was practically begging for mj to invite her to stay in her room and using her being scared as an excuse)

Anyway sorry for such a rant im just rewatching it now and going crazy. As the live progresses they do both seem to get more into it and interact a bit more and are giggly more but it makes me think it was tense between the two of them before they started

omg this is actually such a good analysis that made me want to rewatch the live bcs i felt that mj wasnt really interactive with jm back then too! also i agree with the timeline in your head the semi hate-fucks went hard during the tour🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

#jiminjeong #jiminjeong timeline

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pascalslvt · 1 year ago

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Tangled Alliances

Summary: When faced with sickness in your community in an already post-apocalyptic world, it is up to the strained professional partnership of you and Joel Miller to embark in a perilous and difficult journey in order to retrieve life-saving medicine. With your destinies intertwined, shrouded in tension, you confront the unforgiving challenges of your environment together, gradually forming an unexpected bond. Will that be enough?

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader, f/m

rating: 18+, minors dni

series warnings:, pre!ellie, during outbreak, set in TLOU 2022, age gap (28 & 52), swearing, mentions of violence, also actual violence, mentions of sickness, heavy angst...., fluff, trial & tribulations, severe weather, a lot of fucking animosity and hostility, enemies to lovers ???, infected people, tension...TENSION!!!, bickering, copious amounts of alcohol, inebriation, y'all don't get along...but y'all also have to, smut!!!!...a semi-slow burn, anxiety, exhaustion, NO USE OF Y/N.

chapter warnings: Mentions of backstory (involving the death of readers parents), bickering, bad langauge, tess is mother, mentions of sickness and death, aclohol, sharing a tent (wink wink), cheeky morning wood, just a sprinkle of smut if you squint its not really smutty but not completley clean, bad luck ??, tension. lots of it, intrusive improper thoughts.

word count ≈ 8,3k Estimated reading time: 37 minutes, 4 seconds (225 wpm)

a/n: This is the first part of a series i am writing!! I haven't actually written fanfiction since i was like...15, so be very very kind and gentle and patient with me because i am literally just a girl.....i have dusted off the cobwebs & busted my writing out of its retirement to create a story to quench my current joel miller obession. This storyline is actually inspired by a dream i recently had and i am very excited to reeeeally get into the series as i have a lot of plans that i cannot share with you right now.... also sorry if the tags are wierd i gennuinely have no idea what the fuck to write. Part two will come pretty shortly (don't get used to it) because after i awoke from the dream i literally wrote almost 20k words in one sitting so im splitting it up and giving this one some time to see if people are even interested in reading more...please enjoy!!!!!!

Part One: Hostile Beginnings

You were nearly seven years old when the outbreak started. To you, the world crumbled before your feet in what seemed like an instant - shattering the very ground on which you stood. One day after school, you saw your own mother's jugular be ripped straight out of her neck from the mouth of your neighbor, an old and fragile woman who used to babysit you from time to time. Before running away in fear, you saw your mother bleed out, right there on the lawn you used to play in. You never saw your father that day, and neither did you ever again. You always accepted that your father's fate was that he most likely died in that little cubicle he worked in. Or that he now spends the rest of his life infected. Whichever the case, it doesn’t really matter to you, you don’t think about him anymore.

You got away with your life by the skin of your teeth that day. That little girl ran until her tiny legs could carry her no more. Your English teacher, Theresa, had found you in a ditch, sobbing. You had been wearing the same outfit you did that day in class, a purple shirt with a flower on it, along with some blue pants. Theresa didn't have the heart to leave the little girl behind, so she took you under her wing.

Throughout the years, Therese - or ‘Tess’ as you liked to call her - taught you how to survive this very unfortunate world disaster. While you were still young, she taught you to crawl into small holes to retrieve food or water, and to hide whenever you felt something was wrong. She taught you to trust your instincts. She taught you to be resilient. Resourceful. In later years, you were taught to use a gun, to mend knifes, to defend yourself - how to navigate this apocalypse safely.

When you got older, Tess made use of you in her line of work. Smuggling. And you were good

This is how you got to know the man named Joel Miller. A cynical, gruff man of very few words. But, he always got the job done. You and Joel didn’t interact much. Now that you think about it, you hadn’t met him more than.. what? 5 times before today? even less so had you spoken with him. Tess didn’t want you to work alongside Joel as she believed his methods could sometimes be…taking unnecessary risks. He could sometimes be reckless. And you were not a risk she was willing to take. Not yet.

Ever since finding that shattered little girl all those years ago, Tess always felt an unwavering, deep sense of responsibility to keep you safe. She owed it to you, and she owed it to your parents. You were now a full-grown woman, 28 years old - and Tess knew you had a strong head on her shoulders. With the years, the fierce overprotective nature gradually softened. She gradually unfolded her wings of trust, and sent you out on more and more jobs. But, it wasn’t until recently that she felt comfortable enough to let you work with Joel. Nothing big, none spanning more than a day or three. To her dismay (but yet also relief), the two of you ended up ultimately proving to be an incredibly efficient team. However, the two of you could not get along even if your very life depended on it.

It was a silent alliance. It had to be. Otherwise, you’d end up getting on each other's nerves and damn near kill one another. Joel always made it incredibly clear that you weren’t friends - he wasn’t there for pleasantries, he was there to finish a job. Not that you objected. The less condescending shit you had to hear him say, the better. You didn’t care much, either way. You were a professional - after all, you had done this since you were a child. This was your reality. You never had much choice.

Lately, a lot of people in your community have fallen very, very sick. It is some sort of pulmonary bacterial infection that starts off with a fever, and will leave you coughing up blood a couple of months later. A slow killer, but a killer nonetheless. Some of the older folk have already started dying.

“No, absolutely not, Valerie” you heard Tess’s voice come from downstairs. You just happened to walk past to hear it. “It’s way too risky”. These words piqued your interest. “She is our best option, and you damn well know that” Valerie, a woman you live and work with says, a stern undertone in her voice. You slowly walks towards them, walking down the stairs without making a creak, eavesdropping.

“This would take months to complete..” Tess sighs, adding in, “We don’t even know if we have that kind of time, folk’ are already dyin’. We don't even have no idea how heavily surveilled it is”

“Do we have a choice? We’ll run out of our own supply within a month if we’re lucky. They will all die”

Tess is quiet, you could almost hear her thinking if you listened hard enough. You enter the room, “What’s going on?” you ask

Tess stands still and shares a look with Valerie before looking at you, sighing and crossing her arms. “We have received intel that there is a massive supply of vital medical equipment as well as medication, medication that we need. It’s In a settlement controlled by some sort of… faction. They call themselves the ‘reclaimers’. Nasty bunch. We need the medication, and well.. If our sources are correct, which they haven't failed us before, it’d be enough to not only cure the folk round here; but we could also sell for an enormous profit. We could make a lot of money. Maybe buy a new truck. Supplies. Guns….”

“I’m in.” you say, without hesitation, cutting her off. Tess shakes her head, she opens her mouth to speak, but you interrupt her before she can “I can manage myself, you made sure of that.”

Valerie looks at Tess with a ‘I told you so’ look. “You’d have to walk for, probably, months on end just to get there and back. They’re west, somewhere in Montana, located deep into the forest. You have never been on a mission that lengthy, and it's fucking cold as shit - and it's only going to get worse”

“What’s our other option here? Let people die?” you ask, and pause. They stay silent. “I wouldn’t accept if I didn’t know I was capable of handling something like this, Tess….”

You look at each other for a long time. She knits her eyebrows together, somberly, and shakes her head. She doesn't know if she can let you do anything like this. Not because she doubts your ability - rather, she cannot get herself to put you in that type of danger.

“You heard the woman…” Valerie says smugly.

“Fine”. Tess says, slightly annoyed and probably feeling very protective. “I need to stay here and take care of some things, keep track of the radio and such.. Valerie needs to tend to the people here. It…It would be you and Joel.”

This takes you slightly aback. On one hand, even though Tess might think his methods are unconventional - she trusts him, and you trust her. Besides, you have worked professionally very well before and always get the job done. But on the other hand…it’s Joel fucking Miller.

“Months on a job with Joel Miller? Fuck me…” You scoff. Tess’s lips curl into a slight smile evidently trying to hold back her laughter. She knows the kind of disdain you feel for him.

“There’s no one else I’d trust to send you away with on a mission like this. Except for me, of course” Tess says, leaning against a wall. “Are you still in, even if it’s him?” “Well.. i don’t really have a choice now, do i?” you say, and they chuckle. “When would we leave?”

Tess pauses. “You’d have to leave tomorrow” she studies your demeanor, waiting for you to opt out. Hoping in a sick, twisted way that you would - since that would mean that you’d be safe. You don’t hesitate. “He doesn’t know…yet. But, I know him. He would not turn this job down. Besides, he owes us too much, he can’t”

You nod. “Well…he’ll probably be as pleased with working with me as I am with him” you say, rolling your eyes.

“It’s about time the two of you get over that little feud of yours” Valerie interjects, you send her a warning look

“Ain’t my fault he’s fucking unbearable” You point at her, gesticulating your annoyance already brewing by the mere thought of him. She shrugs.

“I’ll call him on the radio - let him know.” Tess says.

“With her?!” You hear Joel’s voice boom down from the hallway, annoyance evident on his voice. ‘yup. i was right’ You think to yourself, chuckling as you’re eavesdropping from the other room. They start start walking towards the kitchen, where you are stood. When he sees you, he nearly rolls his eyes, stopping in his tracks. “Well. Looks like we’ll be partners.”

You smile tight-lipped, nodding and holding back an eye roll of your own - trying your best to be civil. “Seems that way”

“We leave at 8. ‘Expect you to be ready by 7 forty-five” He commands. You nod at his instructions. ‘One minute of a partnership, and he has already taken the leading role. Fucking jackass.’ you think to yourself. “Better get some rest”

“Yeah, no kidding…” You mumble to yourself, sneering. He gives you a warning look. One that says ‘don’t start’.

Knowing there’s no point in furthering this conversation as tensions are already high, and you have months to argue with him, you turn to walk “I’ll go pack then” You announce, turning around.

“And try not to piss me off” Joel says loudly as you walk away. You just hold up your middle finger and leave the room. “Real mature!” He scoffs as he looks at Tess with a look that says ‘can you believe her?’, she just shrugs.

That night you packed all that you would need - supplies, food, weapons, a tent…the everyday outing must haves in the midst of an active apocalypse, also…for the cold. Of course, you are not a total stranger to it, living here in Boston, but you also know that the cold here won't compare to the temperatures you are about to face - as you know walking through the north of the US in late autumn, early winter will not be an easy feat - and in a little tent, at that. It was estimated you would be gone for about a couple of months, at least - which is by far the longest job you’d ever been on. But, it was essential.

That morning you wake up particularly early, to make it a point not to be late. Wouldn’t want to give Joel the satisfaction of berating you. You can already feel yourself wanting to spite him. Tess helped you carry your things down, not that you needed help, rather she felt bad for sending you to do something like this. Capable or not, she had a …. Somewhat motherly instinct for you. She also gave you the map with the places you’re headed, where you’re meeting the informants, where the safehouses are located and so on - and gave you the same rundown as she did for Joel, keeping the both of you informed. You are now stood in the kitchen, with your things in your arms. She paused and looked at you, having trouble finding the words, feeling herself getting choked up by the reality of the situation. Before you can diffuse the fears you see swirling in her head, she holds you tight. “You be real careful of yourself, got it?”

“Yes m’am.” You say, voice slightly strained by the suffocating tight hold she has around you. She lets go of you, and cups one side of your face with her hand, and smiles with glassy eyes. She shakes her head as she takes a step back, as if to snap out of the sentimentality.

“Now go and get that medicine.” she nods, trying to sound emotionless and strong. You nod and turn to walk out the building. “Oh, and… give him a tough time. Joel, I mean” She laughs

“You know I will” You wink, as you finally leave the house. Tess stands there with an awful feeling inside the deepest parts of her. She was meant to be the one to protect you, and here she is; sending you off to a mission where she doesn’t even know the magnitude of the threat it poses to your life. But, it’s too late now. Way too many people are depending on you.

You continue walking out, as you lean against the truck parked outside. You’re not going to drive far with it, only 10-12 hours or so. They wanted to transport it somewhere else to sell (since the ongoing surge of illness has eaten away at your community fund), and since it was on the way Tess figured it would not hurt to cut down the length of the trip just a little bit. You stand there for a while, until you check your clock: ‘7:46am’. You snigger by yourself. Without noticing, Joel was walking towards you, gear in hand

“Right in time, for once” He mumbles.

“You’re the one who is late, Joel” You correctly point out.

“It’s one minute, stop yappin’” He says, walking over to the truck, throwing his stuff into it and getting into the driver's seat, slamming the door. What a cheerful man.

You throw your bag into the car “I don’t understand why you’re the one driving” you mutter, getting into the passenger seat

“You know exactly why. Now shut it before I rip off ‘ya jaw and shove it up ‘ya ass.” He says, matter-of-factly, putting the keys in the ignition, turning it and starting the engine, looking forward.

“Ooh, very kinky, Joel” You say sarcastically, taunting him.

He puts his foot on the clutch, as he shifts the gear. “Keep talkin', and I'll leave ya here.” he says and starts driving.

“If only I’d be so lucky…” You mutter silently, watching out of the window as he pulls out on the narrow road through the tall buildings, keeping away from the major roads as they are heavily used by FEDRA.

“I heard that” He said, pointing at his ear, eyes on the road.

“I’m glad your hearing is working, old man. Gives us a bigger chance of survival” you chuckle

“Old man?” He asks, insulted by what you said. “I'll show ya old man if you don't shut the hell up.”

You roll your eyes, and decide to sit this one out. You know it’s not worth bickering, as you have a long, long road ahead of the two of you. “That’s better” He said after a little while of silence. You roll your eyes once again, deciding with all your will and might not to respond with a snippy comment, as you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of giving him the reaction he so obviously is searching for.

You two drive for hours and hours without saying a word, sitting in the thick tension that is between the two of you. It wasn’t necessarily a comfortable silence, rather a silence that comfortably didn’t mean you had to talk to him. After 7 hours, you can start seeing the shift in the sky, the colors indicating the impending sunset that's occurring.

“Maybe we should find somewhere to find shelter? Suns going down. “ You point out.

“I could work that out myself, thanks” He mutters. “We've still got a few hours left of daylight. Push on.”

“So I’m guessing your plan is that we sleep in the car?” You question, looking at him. He doesn’t leave his eyes from the road.

“Yup.” he says. Well, you couldn’t think of any better plan, to be fair. A truck is not a bad place to sleep given the alternative.

After about an hour or so, the car starts suddenly sputtering. “What the fuck?” Joel mumbles, as he quickly checks around the dashboard to see if there’s any indication as to what’s going on. You look over at him, quizzically. “Fuck!!” He shouts, hitting the steering wheel so hard that it honks, as the car comes to a halt. “That’s just…that’s just fucking great” He says, trying to restart the engine - to no avail.

“So much for your plan on ‘pushing on’” you said, looking out at the quickly darkening sky, mocking him. He looks annoyed at you, as he gets out of the car, to check the hood. When he does, a light amount of smoke seeps out.

Well, that sucks. But, you try to remind yourself that this truck was always going to be a temporary luxury, and you got 8 hours into the 12-hour trip. Oh well, more time with… Joel.. Sigh..

“Engines out” He grumbles, waving the smoke away from his face as he closes the hood again, standing and watching hopelessly at the car with one hand on his hip. “We’re not too far from the trucks drop off spot, guess we’ll have to walk the rest of the way.”

“So we just leave it here?” You ask

“Got a better idea? We’re in the middle of nowhere, nobody gonna steal it.” He answers.

“It’s your head, miller…” You mutter. He chooses not to answer to your snark.

“I say we still sleep in the car. It’s better than a tent.”

You nod in agreement “In the middle of the road?” You ask, looking at an already annoyed Joel. He grimaces, whilst he mocks what you just said

“No, you idiot, we’ll have to push it” he stated, looking around the road to see a good spot, and ended up pointing at a spot by some trees a couple meters from the road. “And it ain't an easy feat. Let’s see if you got the strength to push a two tonne vehicle, little miss”

You shrug. How bad can it be? Joel gets in the car and makes sure its gear is in neutral, as the both of you stand at the back of the car, starting to push. It takes some time, and Joel was right that it was, indeed, not an easy task. By the time you got the car by the trees you’re both catching your breath, Joel sweating profusely

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You say between breaths, holding your hands on your hips. He’s bent over in exhaustion.

“Oh bite me” He hisses. You try not to laugh. “We’ll have to leave it here, try to radio Tess somewhere along the way, so they can pick it up - at least before someone steals it”

You nod. It’s gotten dark, it’s time to sleep. So, you climb into the truck and start leaning back your seat to get as comfortable as you can. Joel does the same.

“So…” You say, breaking out the map. “We’ll have to recalibrate… it’ll be…what I'm guessing… 2 to 3 weeks to walk to our first meetup spot with the informants.” I sigh, already tired.

Joel nods. “I'll carry ya if ya get tired” He teases, looking over at you as he lays back in his seat.

“Right back at you princess” You answer without a beat, changing the pins in the map, folding it back and lying on your side, away from Joel. He smirks at your answer.

“Y’sure got a mouth on you” He says.

You roll your eyes as you close your eyes “night”, you mumble, ready to sleep.

“G'night” he lies back on the seat and put his hat over his face before falling asleep.

The morning after, you wake up in a stir. The car was very cold, and the sun was just rising. You look around, and find that Joel is not in the car. You blink the sleep out of your eyes, and realize he’s popped the hood to check if there's any way to salvage this car. He sees you move around your head and peaks on the side of the hood

“g’morning, darlin’” he smirks. Is he more annoying than usual or is it because you just woke up? You can't decide. You furrow your eyebrows. He chuckles to himself at how displeased you seem to be awake. You were, after all, never a morning person. “We gotta get movin’”

“Yeah, yeah..” You mumble, getting out of the car to stretch and go to the backseat to collect all your things. Sleep still in your system, the two of you start walking along the road. After a while, you opt to walking through some hills, as Joel got more and more paranoid of meeting someone on the road. You walked for what must have been…14 hours, only taking a small break to eat something small that Tess had packed, sitting on two different places and not exchanging any words. The sun started setting, the sky turning an orange tinge.

“We better find shelter..come on” He said, looking around and seemingly found a spot not too far away - yet secluded enough to sleep for tonight. He increased his walking pace in a determined manner. You follow along not too far behind. Suddenly he stops dead in his steps.

“Jesus fucking Christ” He whispered to himself, anger and frustration very, very evident in his voice

“What?” You ask, eyeing him a bit worried about his reaction.

“God fucking damn it” He whispers to himself “Dammit - I forgot my tent. We'll have ta sleep in the open. Hope you ain't afraid of the dark…”

“Speak for yourself. I brought mine. I ain’t sharing.” You say, resuming your steps.

“You're a real treat to travel with you know that.” He says, looking at you stood still, frozen by his own frustration as he is kicking himself for forgetting that damn bag.

“I bet I am!” you yell, as you have managed to walk a bit further along than he has. He sulks as he continues walking.

You both decide on a safe spot to make a shelter. Joel and you start instinctively preparing to make a fire and collecting anything that will burn. To his dismay, a light downpour of snowflakes suddenly fall from the sky. You look up and laugh at the sheer irony of the situation, the frustration of the day just piling onto Joel. And it’s only the first day at that. “Ain’t that a bitch, huh, Miller?”

“Gotta be fucking kidding me” He groans. “That’s just great”

The two of you start a fire, and put two cans of soup on it for dinner. He is sitting against a rock, drinking whiskey, looking as happy as you could in his situation (spoiler alert, he is sulking). You are putting up your tent, which you dutifully brought (unlike Joel) and you pause as you catch a glimpse of the sad man who seems to be very stressed with the current predicament he has found himself in. He is visibly freezing his ass off. You feel strangely bad. He can't sleep in this cold…

“Look, miller” you pause, he looks at you. “You’re going to die in this cold. Let’s just share tents. Ain’t nun weird.”

He scoffs, and looks back at the fire, taking a sip of the whiskey “I'm good”

You sigh. “Stop being such a fucking Stoic and get over yourself. If you share your whiskey, I’ll share my tent” you say. Maybe by making a deal out of it, it’ll be easier for him to accept your help, you thought.

He thinks for a while. He weighs out his options, as if there is not only one he can realistically go with - which is to accept your help. “Fine. Half-and-half?”

You nod, somewhat happy that he accepted, yet less happy of the reality - which was that you have to share a tent tonight. “Half and half” You repeat, nodding. You walk towards him and sit next to him.

He gets another cup from his bag and fills it with his cheap, illegally brewed scotch, and passes it to you. “That’ll warm us up nicely” He said. It tastes like piss and firewood.

“Aye” You say. “How did you manage to remember bringing your whiskey, and not your tent?” You ask, with a slight hint of laughter to your voice.

He huffed. “Priorities” He smirked, turning to you.

“Well. I hope you have brought enough to maintain your end of the deal” you say, taking a sip. He silently lifts his bag, emitting a number of clinking noises, entailing he has probably got enough to last him weeks. Maybe a week now that you are involved.

“Seems like an unnecessarily heavy weight to carry” you remark, taking a sip of the strong liquid.

He stays silent for a while. “You’ll understand it soon enough” is all he says. Not knowing what he meant, neither caring all too much, you shrug and kept drinking aside each other in the dark silence. You eat the soup when it’s done, too. You pulled your legs to your chest to maintain more warmth, as it feels as though its getting colder by the minute, a few stray snowflakes falling onto the ground and quickly melting away.

“Didn’t think you were so damn sensitive to the cold” he suddenly said.

“M’not, it’s fucking freezing” you say, breathing out.

“Don't think I don’t see you shivering, princess” he says, with a sly smirk on his mouth

“Right back at you, princess” You say, mocking the way he said it to you. “Don’t fucking call me that ever fucking again, by the way”

“Someone’s a tad touchy, ain’t they?” He laughs, taking a swig from his whiskey

“Shut up, Miller”

“Why? M’igetting on your nerves?” he asks, sarcasm swelling in his voice.

“Always have been” You quickly retort.

“I’d say it’s mutual”

You nod, as you kept drinking. The whiskey has become a lubrication for the regular anguish you’ve felt in the presence of Joel. Now you felt no more than subtly irritated. The drunker you got, the happier you were of the deal you did with him. You kept drinking in silence, until you’ve drained about a quarter of the bottle - which might seem like a little, unless you calculate the amount of food you’ve ingested compared to the whiskey you’ve drank. Your cup is, once again, empty - and you guide the cup towards Joel, who dutifully fills it with more.

“Here ya go, princess” he says sheepishly, and you turn to give him a warning look

“I’m serious Joel, I’ll knock the teeth right out of your mouth if you keep calling me that.” You say, rather aggressively.

“I’d like to see you try” He snorts out.

You decide not to answer, as he is clearly getting a rise out of antagonizing you. You roll your eyes and chug the rest of your cup. So did, Joel.

He, again, filled your cup. “You seem happy I brought the whiskey. Like you could use some of it” He comments

“No shit. I’ve got two to three months on a mission with you. And it’s only the second night” you shrug. “Not to mention that we have to share tents…”

“I ain't that bad” He chuckles.

“You’re drunk” you add.

“So are you” he quickly responds.

You nod, and sit in silence for a while - both, quite drunk. “I’m fucking tired. You tired?”

You feel a bit loopy from all the alcohol, but stand up and agree, walking over to your tent. The closer you get to the tent, the more you realize just how small it really is. I mean, it’s small for just one person, imagine how cramped it is for two? Surely, the both of you cannot fit in there - what the hell have you gotten yourself into? You think to yourself.

Joel walks slowly towards the tent as he watches you look into the tent, worriedly. He looks himself, and the same thought passing your mind right now has suddenly dawned upon his, “Oh, boy….” he mumbled

“Yeah, I know.”. You are both stood there, looking, for a while - until you initiate and climb into the tent, and lie down on the right side - making as much space for Joel’s body as you can.

“This ain't gonna be comfortable, not one bit...” he says, as he lies down next to you in the tent, in a clumsy and stale motion.

Your bodies are uncomfortably pressing together, without there being enough room to move away, nor was there to shuffle to a more spacious yet also non compromising position. You tried lying back to back, as it seemed the natural and least intimate way to lie next to one another, thus facing away from one another. Still then, there wasn’t enough space to spare personal space - not in this tent.

“God this sucks.” you mutter from one side.

“You got that right.” He answers from the other.

You groan, as you try to get comfortable, nudging your elbow into his back in the process. He huffs out of pain. “You're making it worse.”

“Shut up. I’m just trying to get comfortable” You say, feeling an unrest in your body - one that the whiskey was not strong enough to numb.

“So am I” He gets more irritated as you keep nudging into him.

Finally, you settled to lie on your side, facing away from Joel. He takes the newly found empty space and lies with his arms against your back. You groan. “Your arms are hurting my back” he does not seem to care, and stays silent. You finally give into defeat, as the mixture of the sleepiness and alcohol slowly seems to overtake your body and you both fall asleep.

Somewhere at night, you had rolled over. Joel was very warm, so naturally, subconsciously, you drifted closer to the source. With your face against his chest, he was softly awoken by the warm breaths coming out of your mouth, in small snores. He looked down, and saw you sleeping peacefully, right against him. He lied completely still, not sure if he should wake you up. The snores were not loud enough to keep him up, so he presumed that is the price he’ll have to pay to sleep somewhere warm tonight, so he tried closing his eyes and fall back asleep, repeating in his head not to look anymore at you - and just go to sleep.

Suddenly you wake up, the morning after, head plastered against Joel’s chest, with his arm slung around your body, and your arm slung over his shoulder. It felt comfortable and warm….strangely.. Good lying like that, but you didn’t know how to react. It was utterly intimate and had crossed the border to cuddling very long ago. And oh god…is that your saliva on his shirt? Did you drool on his chest?! You were so close to him that you could smell the stench of whiskey on his breath, no less your own bouncing from his chest and back to your nostrils. You were basically on second base with the man, without ever remembering if you fell asleep that way or if you had done it in your sleep. I mean hell, you barely remember getting into the damned tent…’we must’ve gotten very drunk’ you thought to yourself. You must’ve rolled over and not thought about it.

You lie frozen, unsure what to do in this situation. If you jerk too much, you’ll wake him - but if you don’t move… he’ll see what you are seeing as of right now - which is you two in an extremely compromising situation. Maybe you could turn around? But then it would border spooning…curse this god-damn tent!

As if awoken by your thoughts, Joel’s body moves as if he’s waking up - and in a hasty and rushed move, he jerks his arm away from you - as if he just went through the same train of thoughts you did when you woke up. “What the fuck” He groaned, looking at you in an.. Almost disturbed manner.

“Fuck.. Uh, mornin’..” You peep out, embarrassed. Kicking yourself for not acting faster before he woke.

“Morning” he says in a rushed voice as he looks around, slightly panicked. None of you know what to say, an awkward silence hanging over you. He is quick to peel away from you to climb out of the tent. “We gotta get going” he announced.

“Y-yeah” You say, sitting still in the tent, processing the situation. When you have mustered enough strength, you crawl out of the tent too - stretching as you stand up. You pack up and walk alongside each other in silence, might as well have been miles apart. The weight of your unspoken closeness from the previous night's ‘cuddling’ lingers in the air, you were both a bit thrown off, sharing the occasional glances at each other, unsure of how to address what had happened, or whether it was better left unspoken. There wasn’t much to say, to be honest. I mean, what was there to say?

You got quite accustomed to the silence, to hearing nothing but the sound of your footsteps, wet against the humid grass. You’d think that walking for hours on end without the distraction of conversation would be something that would bother you, it proved to do the opposite. Without it, It was as if the world around you had muted its colors and sounds, leaving only the barest minimum of sensory input - which made time somewhat fly by. The aching in your feet and legs slipped to the back of your mind. You wondered if Joel was quiet because he was doing the same.

You also wondered what his thoughts were regarding this morning, and how you woke up. You didn’t talk about it, that’s obvious enough…but, what was he thinking about? Maybe he didn’t think about it at all - it was, after all, innocent, you rationalized. Was he also trying to decipher the mixed emotions you were feeling without giving them too much weight - since that might make them real, after all? You can’t deny just how safe and comfortable you felt, regardless of who it was.

Joel spotted you glancing at him here and there, he was equally aware of the tension. He, too, couldn't shake off the memory; He couldn’t help but to replay the events of last night in his mind, wondering if it was merely a product of shared body heat or something deeper. I mean, he could have just pushed you away…yet the unexpected warmth of your body against his, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as you slept, your breath hot against his chest.. It had been an intimate moment, and he couldn’t help but…enjoy it. However, he was as stubborn as ever, unwilling to broach the topic nor delve into the act itself. Instead, he focused on the mission at hand, pushing the awkwardness aside, shaking his head, not wanting to think too much of it either.

As you continued on the journey, the trees began to thin out, and you found yourself standing at the edge of a clearing, the sun going down behind a mountain up ahead. You looked at Joel, who seemingly had the same thought you did - it was time to find shelter. He took the map out of his bag and looked around. “We aren’t too far away from a safe house” he grumbled.

You nodded, taking out a map of your own, trying to help him in the search of said safe house. As you slowly approach the road leading to the building the weather began to change. Dark clouds gather in the sky, and the first few raindrops fall, pelting against your clothes. The urgency of getting under a roof became more apparent, so you quickened your pace.

Your breaths are visible in the cold, damp air, and the water has seemingly seeped into your clothes - leaving you feel colder and heavier. The cold made your thoughts kept circling back to the tent. The unexpected warmth of Joel's body against yours.. ‘God damn it. Get a grip. it's not even day four, and you're losing your mind.’ You thought to yourself.

Finally, you reached the safe house, which wasn’t what either of you had hoped for. It was an abandoned decrepit building, a relic of the world before the outbreak, with a roof that had seen better days. It was a stone building, partially hidden away by the tall unkept grass surrounding it, as well as tall trees huddling around it, vines growing on the walls. It was probably old 20 years ago, let alone now… The building was leaking from the roof and had gaping holes in the walls - making the shelter far from ideal. It offered some protection from the rain, but not much else. It was, however, better than getting drenched in the pouring rain and being exposed to the elements. You closed the door behind you and took a moment to catch your breath, looking around.

“Well.. This is the best we've got for now” He finally muttered as the wind howled through the gaping holes in the walls.

You look around and find it was pretty empty. There wasn’t any furniture, just a chair. Floor filled with scattered garbage and miscellaneous, dusty items from people who have been here before. The water is dripping from your clothes onto the stone floor beneath you, creating a puddle. "We need to get out of these wet clothes," he finally stated, his voice practical and no-nonsense.

You knew he was right, but the timing of it made it slightly uncomfortable. He knew he was straining on the already strange atmosphere that has been looming over the two of you since you found each other in the brace of one other. However, you also knew the reality of the situation. Your pride was warring with the necessity of the situation. The chill in the air and the knowledge of the dangers of hypothermia prevailed, and rational thought found its way back to you. You have months left to travel with Joel - and undressing in front of him to ward off sickness should not be an embarrassing thing, it ensures your survival and should be nothing more - is nothing more.

He could see the hesitation in your eyes, as you shivered, teeth chattering. He looked around for any dry fabric he could find within the safehouse—tattered old blankets and worn-out jackets. It wasn't the most comfortable solution, but it would have to do for now. He picked up a jacket. “Here.”

You nodded in agreement and began peeling off your drenched attire. Joel did the same, his back turned to maintain some semblance of privacy. Finally free from the soaked garments, you are quick to put on the jacket, zipping it, covering your body enough to feel more comfortable. You start wringing out the excess water from the clothes you wore, leaving a puddle of water there. You avoided even looking in the direction of Joel, who you know is (most likely) currently butt naked. Instead, you find a moth-eaten blanket in a corner of the room that the rain hadn’t reached. Shivering uncontrollably, you wrap it around your waist, covering your exposed legs. You could see a not so naked Joel who had found some pieces of clothing to cover himself, thankfully. He was now hanging his wet clothes against the singular chair that he moved to one of the few dry spots in the house, so you opt to do the same. The room was still far from warm, and the leaky roof didn't help matters, but, at least you were in dry clothes, if you can call them that.

You spot the ever so tiny wood burning stove in the corner of an empty adjoining room. You check if there’s any wood in there, and to your surprise there is - however, not much of it. Enough for tonight, and that’s all that mattered. You started a small fire and quickly huddled up against it for warmth. Joel walked into the room, as he’d seen the light from the fire from the corner of his eye. He nodded in approval as he silently walked towards you, sitting down next to you to also keep warm. You both sit there in silence, waiting for the clothes to dry.

Joel broke the silence, his voice softer this time "We'll have to wait out the storm here, and then we can continue our journey." You nod, agreeing.

As the night wore on, the humidity in the room strangled the feeble fire you had managed to kindle earlier, ultimately snuffing it out. The temperature inside the safehouse plummeted, and it became apparent that you couldn't rely on the fire for warmth any longer “Damn it” You mutter, shivering once again, trying to revive the fire - to no avail.

What was also apparent was that the two of you were so obviously treading around the one thing you knew would help warm you up, very much proven by last night. Unsure, feeling awkward, you didn’t know if you should bring it up. Proudly, you both sat there in silence. The memory of the previous night and the warmth that entailed lingered in the back of both of your minds. It had been an unspoken but undeniable source of comfort in the midst of the harsh world you inhabited, and now, with the cold seeping into your bones, and the urgency to get warm overtaking the awkward tension looming over you, the thought of that shared warmth became impossible to ignore.

Without saying a word, you shifted closer to Joel, seeking his body heat. Joel, initially surprised, looking over at you, understood the unspoken request and shifted to accommodate you. It was an unspoken agreement, a silent acknowledgment that you needed each other's warmth to survive the harsh, cold night.

With a shared understanding of practicality and mutual vulnerability, you created a makeshift sleeping area consisting of zipped up sleeping bags, dry blankets and whatever else fabric you could spare that would dampen the solidity of the cold, damp floor. This was where you settled as you finally lay side by side. You tried to find a comfortable position, mirroring the way you had slept in the tent the night before, with him against your back. Your bodies pressed together, and your breaths synchronized in the cold darkness, neither of you speaking about it, rather you let your bodies instinctively gravitate closer, seeking the heat that the other provided.

In the quiet of the night, as you shared body heat to stave off the biting cold, the tension that had lingered between the two of you began to seemingly fade. Despite the uncomfortable surroundings and your strained relationship, you both found a strange comfort in your shared warmth and the familiarity of each other's presence. There was no need for snark, nor sly remarks; pissing each other off. Neither did you have to discuss the somewhat uncomfortable, albeit innocent yet necessary, situation you’ve found yourself in. The cold was unforgiving, and your priority was to avoid hypothermia. You were, after all, nothing but two survivors making the best of the harsh and unforgiving circumstances given to you, finding solace and comfort in each other's company, even if it was unconventional.

He hesitantly kept his arms to his side. Joel broke the silence, clearing his throat, his voice barely a whisper, "I never thought I'd miss that damn tent." trying to diffuse more of the tension.

You slightly laugh, feeling a slight cramp in your body from the duress of the situation. The laugh eased up some internal tension you didn’t even know you were holding onto. “It was for sure warmer than this” You chuckle.

He smiled. And that was that. You were both admittedly exhausted, and drifted off into a very well-earned sleep, lulled by the heat radiating between the two of you. Secretly, you couldn’t help but to wish for the extra warmth that came from his arms around you, as it did yesterday, holding you impossibly close, keeping you safe in his big strong arms. Little did you know that he was thinking the same, but it was simply a line that Joel couldn't bring himself to cross. You had already navigated enough awkwardness and unspoken emotions that night. That didn’t stop him, however, from subconsciously doing so in his sleep - just as he did the night before.

Morning came, and you were awakened by the sun shining through the window, and onto your face. To your surprise, you felt your body be wrapped in the warmth of Joel's embrace. He must have instinctively put his arm around you whilst he slept. At first, you felt a sense of contentment. It was strange, but also undeniable. It was a reassuring feeling, knowing that he was there, holding you tightly - just as you had secretly hoped. But, as your senses fully woke up, you became acutely aware of something else - a firm pressure against your back that couldn't be ignored. You froze, your eyes widening in shock, and your heart raced as you registered the presence of Joel's erection pressed against your back. Joel was still asleep, as far as you were concerned. His breath heavy and warm on your shoulder, light snores leaving his mouth. Your mind raced as you tried to process the situation. You two had already crossed so many boundaries during the night to stay warm, but this felt like an entirely different kind of boundary altogether. Was this intentional? Or just a physiological response to their proximity?

Was there a sick, twisted part of you that engulfed your mind with fantasies of alleviating the pressure burning in the pit of your stomach with the (from what your back could feel was a very appropriately sized) dick prodding at your back? Yes. You were only human, after all. Were you going to do anything about it? No. You knew this was not intentional, not realistically. You’re a grown woman and know that he couldn’t control it just as much as you couldn’t control your deep guttural reaction to such an… event.

You debated over your next moves, unsure of how to navigate this uncharted territory. If you move away, he will wake up, realize he has a boner and think it scared you off. But if you lie there, hoping it goes away, and he wakes up with a raging boner still in full swing rubbing against you - he’d be mortified. Him, being a proud man would never live that down, and would probably not talk to you again, or at least not know what to say, in the midst of his own embarrassment. After yesterday, and the progress you made in your ‘partnership’, you couldn’t help but to dread the deafening silence that came with the impending awkwardness. You’ve been through so much already, and have yet to even get close to finishing this mission. So much left yet to go through. You have crossed so many bridges, this is just one of them. This was just a fleeting moment and not as significant as it might feel in the heat of the moment. It’s not a big deal, not really, just bodies doing body stuff. Or at least that is what you are telling yourself.

Carefully, you adjusted your position ever so slightly, shifting your body away from his rock solid member to relieve the pressure between your bodies, all the while ensuring that you didn't wake him from his peaceful slumber. It was a delicate maneuver to maintain the pretense of sleep, but you hoped it would be enough for you to potentially feign ignorance, just in case he was awake. You, flustered by the situation and the thoughts lingering in your (albeit perverse) mind, could not fall back asleep. Rather, you lied there letting your thoughts run wild. Couldn't hurt to indulge into harmless fantasy?

A couple of moments later, you could feel shifting next to you. Joel slowly woke up, feeling the oh so familiar throbbing that welcomes him in the mornings from time to time. Joel comes to his senses as he gently wakes up, quickly remembering the way he fell asleep against you and how much of a compromising position that would be for him right now. He quickly snapped his eyes open to see, to his relief, that you had moved away in your sleep, or at least so he thought. ‘Phew’ he thought to himself. He quickly sprung to his feet, leaving the room - hoping it goes away before you wake. He was not entertaining the idea of taking care of it, it could be too risky.

Him waking up reminded you of his existence, which filled your lust driven mind with an enormous guilt and shame regarding your thoughts. He didn’t have control over that, and your insatiable mind went and ran with it. You quickly shook the thoughts off and tried to think of something else as you laid there, unsure how to proceed..

You laid still until you heard Joel packing his bag. You took it as an indication that you were out of the woods, and had dodged a bullet - even though the both of you are flustered by it, without the knowing that the other one knew. You get up, and start folding the cloth and blankets that made up your ‘bed’, and walked out to the room with the bags and packed. Joel didn’t say anything.

“G’mornin’” You announce your presence. He, already hyper aware of it, hums as a response. You don't look much into it, relieved he isn’t treating you differently considering last night's sleeping arrangements. When you packed up, you put your backpack around your shoulders, your rifle around your neck and the rest of your gear clinging to the bag. You look at Joel, who is watching you as you pull the straps of the bag. You look up and nod. “Let’s go?”

He nods. You’re off.

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