#we had to shovel some shit...

[friesian]

IF NO ONE GOT ME I KNOW NEIGHBORS GOT ME CAN I GET AN AMEN.

[drive]

.

[tfatwsbarnes]

first burn | tlou jesse pt. 1

read pt. 2 & pt. 3 summary: you go against the council’s verdict on avenging joel miller

pairing: tlou!jesse x fem!reader from don’t be tardy!

word count: 3.5k

trigger warnings: angst. swearing, kissing, character death, loss, reader suffers from survivors guilt thinking joel’s death was random, violence, blood.

a/n: not proofread! oh shit. here we go again! i enjoy writing for jesse rn hehe. this is sort of in sequence with don’t be tardy but it can be a stand alone as well tbh. following the show just cause i feel like it lmao xo

gif credit: @pedgito

Joel Miller was dead. 

It seemed that Jesse had been accurate in his mild threat about the two more warnings in tow if you were late to patrol again. He was just as serious as Maria Miller when she brought you in, Tommy Miller sat shoulder to shoulder with her as she listed your flaws back to you in black and white. Tardiness didn't slide with the Jackson Commune and you were quick to be reminded when Maria Miller stripped you of your right to the morning patrol and every patrol there after.

The patrol that Joel Miller willingly took your spot from you.

You had meant to be out on horseback with either Dina or Jesse, or even Ellie if she hadn't selected one of the two. There had been a resurge in the Infected, numbers climbing at an alarming rate that was perceived as a threat for the Jackson Community.

It was meant to be you, but you had been delegated and in turn, had to sit through a meeting of the town to raise the red flag in the unlikely chances that the walls of haven Jackson would be breached and those fit for a fight would see it through.

Little time to mope over your reprimand by Maria Miller, the horde came as if Jackson were their home. The bells rang and shouts were heard from above whilst you were knee deep in shovelling manure for the crops. There was little preparation internally, as you hadn't believed such an outrageous idea to come true before your eyes, but the Infected soon showed you that Tommy Miller's forewarning rang true.

A gun shoved into your chest, you found a space above ground where you could pick them off.

It was a valiant fight, the Main Street of Jackson in ruins, a parade of dead littered the length of it — some of it your own people and others that had shredded the wall as if it were paper thin.

After providing what help you could to restore the dignity of the town residents by wrapping them in the linen cloth provided by the medical clinic, you had returned to your house to wash the scent of death off of your skin. A rifle left by the shower, you scrubbed at yourself until you were raw, tears brimming your eyes once the adrenaline of the fight against the dead had relinquished. You couldn't bear to close your eyes when the low pressured shower ran its meagre water over your face; scared to leave yourself vulnerable for the taking.

And then, Jesse came.

You had just turned the faucet off, when he crept in, boots surprisingly quiet but you supposed that was something he was good at. You had jumped with a squeal, hands flying to your rifle — Jesse getting to it before you could blow his brains out — your heart beating tenfold. There was no hint of sarcastic humour in the air, and you believed that to be due to his findings on the attack whilst he was on Patrol. And then, he told you about Joel Miller.

Sitting on it for awhile, you took what you could of the information and attempted to digest it. It would get lodged in your throat, eyes wide as you stared at your wall whilst Jesse took his turn to scrub his hands raw of Joel's blood.

        It could have been you.

       A senseless murder, a torturous one from Jesse's description to what he found at the abandoned Mansion. He had to pry Ellie Williams off Joel's body long enough to be able to wrap him up; no easy feat when a girl had just lost, essentially her father.

        You blinked at the wall. If you had left for Patrol with Dina, that would have been you.

That thought remained at the back of your mind, a persistent niggle that etched so deep within the crevices of your brain, that it consumed you whole for three months. It clawed it's way to the forefront of your mind when you attended Joel's funeral — with the profound absence of Ellie — and as you watched the dirt scatter across his casket, there was an unquenchable thirst to make things right. That you wouldn’t rest until you had embedded at least one bullet in his killer's heads, as he was a man that was there at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Because of you.

You had managed to avoid therapy over it, your mask plausible enough that Gail Lynden had passed you with flying colours because, in theory, you weren't there to suffer from the trauma; or that's what she had discussed over a weak cup of tea and biscuits.

That didn’t mean that it wasn’t there. You were just better at hiding it than others.

Like Ellie.

After she had returned to the Jackson society, there was a newfound sense of anger you saw in her as she casually walked through Main Street on a mission. You thought about greeting her, maybe pushing for an awkward hug, but then you saw her face and knew best to steer clear until she came to you.

There wasn’t the closeness between the pair of you compared to her friendships with Jesse and Dina, however, you knew that you offered a refresher in unbiased opinions, often validating how she felt when the others attempted to stomp out her fire for the sake of peace.

“She’s brought an offer to the Council.” Jesse mumbled in the dark after you saw Ellie storming about that morning. You peeled your eyes open from the sleep that just evaded you and Jesse sighed, “She wants to go to Seattle — where those people who killed Joel are stationed — and, well, avenge him.”

Oh. That piqued your interest.

You turned to face Jesse, his hand absentmindedly trailing his fingers across your bicep to raise goosebumps from his touch.

“That. . . Would be good. Right?” You tested the waters, “They deserve it.”

Jesse remained silent — like he was listening to your heart pick up in its beating — before he continued, “Not everything needs to be followed up with violence. Joel is gone, I don’t think killing them will bring the peace Ellie thinks it will.”

“Hm.” You responded blankly.

“The Council Meeting will be held tomorrow. I gave her some advice tonight and I hope she doesn’t go rogue.” Jesse closed his eyes, “That would definitely turn the vote against her.”

You turned on your back as Jesse’s soft snores told you he fell asleep on the thought. Forefinger tapping against your stomach as you processed the information Jesse had just given you. This was the first you were hearing of a base where you could locate the killers, sometimes dating Jesse came with further perks such as releasing privy council information prior to the rest of Jackson knowing.

Head splitting from adrenaline, you found it hard to raise the sleep pressure up enough to fall back asleep.

This was the opportunity you had been waiting on.

—

        "The council voted no." Jesse stated firmly.

        You followed him, "Jesse—I know you love rules and regulations. But, this is about Joel. That's practically Ellie's dad, you saw what they did to him." The image haunted him, actually. "They deserve the violence Ellie has for them. He was like an uncle to you—"

        Jesse flipped round, "—Don't tell me what Joel was to me. I looked up to him, but I won't go against the council verdict."

        The pair of you stared each other down. A blip of regret shone in your eyes for overstepping the personal subject with Jesse. It mattered to you just as much as it mattered to him, even when your closeness with Joel Miller extended as much as brief conversations and checkovers to make sure you were OK after Patrol.

        There was a sense of disdain in the air after the town had gathered to debate on sending a handful of subjects to Seattle to claim back Joel Miller's dignity from the hands that defiled that with an obscene torture. Ellie had spoken concisely, her thoughts scattered on wrinkled paper to ensure her love for Joel was clear enough without being clouded with anger.

        Once the outcome of the Council vote was a strong no, two yes votes against it, Jesse's eyes went to you when you shook your head with disappointment.

        Joel Miller was part of the community they had so desperately built to be safe in.

        People from the outside were changing that.

        Now, you were following Jesse like a lost dog, an attempt at convincing him to throw caution to the wind and pack up for Seattle anyway. Ellie was doing it, with or without Jackson's permission, that of it you were sure.

        "Can you at least just think about it?" You pushed the boat out to him one more time and it returned with a roll of the eyes and a huff. "OK. I won't bring it up again. Beating a dead horse."

        Jesse pulled his lips into a thin line, bending to press a kiss to your lips that spoke as a silent apology. An olive branch to say he wasn't mad, but this was the only way. He cared for Joel Miller, but, if the Jackson Commune saw fit to stay put and not create a war between those who tortured him to death; then he had his hands tied.

Accepting the kiss, a little deflated which Jesse picked up on, you smiled meekly. Don't worry, I still love you, the smile said to wash his insecurities away.

"I'm going to the Mess Hall for lunch. Are you coming?" Jesse placed his hand against your neck, thumb under your jawline. You nodded, a soft smile on his face as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, "C'mon."

You were in line next to Jesse, trays slid across the countertop as you craned your neck to see food offered up as the afternoon menu. The produce was dire, a collective of sodden vegetables and dried out chicken. Though, you shouldn't complain, you were safe and relatively happy. The mildly grim lunch serving would be forgiven.

The Mess Hall was busy after the Council Meeting, a lot of residents sat talking of the very topic over their meals. Your eyes scanned the room whilst you waited for Jesse to spoon some food onto your plate. Ellie was at the opposite side, crestfallen and shoulders hunched as she stabbed the broccoli on her plate.

Whatever relationship Ellie and Joel had toward the end of his life was haunting that kid. You could see it, the way the corners of her mouth were downward, eyes glazed over when she tried to maintain a tough composure. It made you feel sorry for her; not that you would verbalise that.

"Hey—" You looked to Jesse as he grabbed a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice for your tray. "Go find a seat. I'm going to speak to Ellie." You thumbed in her direction.

Jesse followed your gesture, his face contorting into concern, "Don't bring up Seattle."

"I won't." You lied, "I'm just going to talk."

"OK." You felt bad that Jesse believed such a little white lie that could grow arms and legs if poked enough. Both trays in his hand, he turned on his heel and sought out a bench for you both to sit at whilst you headed toward Ellie.

She lifted her head instinctively to the presence of another body close. Ellie wasn't entirely a welcoming character, but you had been acquainted enough that she trusted you, and liked you enough to let you sit and chat with her when you felt like it. You slid into the bench across from her, hands tucked beneath your backside as you both stared at her half-eaten food on the ceramic plate.

"I won't be kissing the chef for this lunch." Your joke landed flat but Ellie was polite enough to smile weakly. There was no time like the present, you supposed, "I have a feeling you're going to head to Seattle, with or without Jackson backing you."

Ellie scowled, "Jesse sent you to talk me down?"

"No. Actually—He doesn't think you'll do it alone. He has a lot of faith in the voting system and following orders." You shrugged, "Just me. I get it, you want to seek revenge for Joel and I'm sorry that the Council didn't believe in that."

"Yeah—Well, they're just scared."

You contemplated agreement, "Maybe. . . But, I do think you should go." This had Ellie stare at you, "Not on a whim. A thorough plan would help your cause, but that may take time—it's already been three months. I have enough medical aid for three days, a couple of food packs I kept after Patrol."

"Are you going to come with me?" Ellie straightened her posture. She liked what she was hearing from you.

Eyes glanced over your shoulder to see Jesse grimacing at the food pocketed in his cheek, he was people watching whilst he waited for you. Your heart clenched, an iron vice encasing it because you knew that your decision would be an ultimate betrayal for Jesse.

Your decision felt like a breakup.

"I may be a couple of hours behind." You informed, saturated in guilt. "Just leave breadcrumbs in Seattle, if you can."

Standing from the bench, Ellie and you shared a single nod of consensus to the plan, your leg lifting to step over the bench and make headway to Jesse. You falsely beamed at your boyfriend, palms clammy as you wiped them on your jeans — seeking refuge beneath his arm as he pulled you in.

Single kiss pressed to your temple, you stared over to Ellie who was staring right back at you. There was a sudden level of respect radiating from her, knowing the sacrifice you were willing to make to assist in avenging Joel Miller. Everybody was aware that Jesse softened around you, his sternness for routine slipped with time when it came to you.

You were about to leave a devastation in your wake. A relationship built on trust and deep affection withered away once Jesse notices your absence in the Jackson Commune.

—

        "What were you speaking to Ellie about?" Jesse's question came quick, as if he had been biting it back when you ate lunch. You had returned to the stables with him to wash the riding equestrian equipment.

         You hid your panic, "Oh—About the Council Meeting to be honest with you." You weren't lying, but you would alter the truth. "I just wanted to make sure she was OK after the verdict."

        "She's pissed, I know that." Jesse kissed his teeth, "I was a little worried that she'd storm out and just head for Seattle herself."

        "Could you blame her if she did?" If you could've bit your tongue off you would've. Albeit, too late, you still stared at Jesse, hoping he'd agree with your stance. "I mean, Joel meant a great deal to her—"

        Jesse interjected impatiently, "—We've already spoke about this."

        "Yeah, Jesse, I know. But—"

        "—But nothing." Jesse snapped, "Do you not trust the Council's guidance on this? It's a bad idea to head to Seattle just so we can score a tally against the people who killed Joel. We can leave it at that."

        You were getting irritated.

        "Jesse," You spoke firmly, "I'm allowed to have an opinion, just as much as you're allowed one."

        "Your opinion is encouraging the destruction that would follow if Ellie left for Seattle." Jesse was picking a route for this argument and sticking to it. "You listened to Maria after you fucked up your spot on Patrol, why can't you listen to me about this?"

        Silence was met between the ambient horse sounds. You stared at Jesse, a little stung by his choice of words and a little too stubborn to take it with a pinch of salt considering the heightened tensions. He didn't seem to falter in his facade, eyes not leaving yours as he continued to wipe down a saddle, your own sponge slamming into the pail of lukewarm water before storming out of the stables.

—

Later that night, a mere hours later, you had mulled over the bad taste that Jesse had left in your mouth. He had given a hard truth, but your pride was astounding in its presence that you refused to even attempt the walk of shame back to the stables to apologise for your half of the argument.

Plus, you had turn your full attention to devise a plan on getting to Seattle and reuniting with Ellie on her quest for retribution.

Headstrong on completing a logical route where the survival rate was high, you had mapped out your steps, equated out the rations to days spent away from Jackson, and limited you baggage to a rucksack and the clothes on your back. Similar to how the Jackson Patrolmen found you en route to their safe haven.

You had set aside your stash of food packs for Ellie, divided between you both but you'd snoop around the Mess Hall at dinner, for any leftovers you could salvage for the journey. Ellie had advised she would be leaving through the night for minimal disruption to her plan, and an invitation was handed your way which you politely declined.

        You wanted to say goodbye to Jesse.

        As you stuffed the remainder of the food packs for Ellie into your bag, your front door opened to reveal Jesse clad in a black button shirt and jeans, and a face of that screamed timid grovelling.

        He loved you so deeply that he was known to swallow his own pride, reflect on his words, and be the first to step over the line to apologise whenever you argued. Regardless of his opinion, he knew you were too obstinate to be the first to break the tension. He balanced you out, just as you did with him.

        Bag zipped nonchalantly to hide any urgency to hide the food packs, you folded your arms, bag kicked by your heel under the bench as you stared at him in your doorway.

        Jesse smiled, "Put your bottom lip away."

        You raised your brows.

        "It was a joke. Are we not in joke territory right now?" Jesse raised his hands a little to imitate a minor surrender as he stepped toward you, "I can be serious. Let me see—" He peeled your arms away from your chest, taking your softer hands in his and pulled them around his waist before peppering your face with kisses, "—I'm sorry for being a jackass."

        "You weren't being a jackass." You mumbled as he squashed your cheeks together, pressing a kiss to your pouted lips, "You were right about me fucking up Patrol."

        Jesse nodded, "Yes, I was." He kissed softly you again, "But, I didn't need to bring it up."

        It made you feel sad. The pit in your stomach flourishing as he tenderly tended to you, each kiss a reminder that you would be the one to break his heart, and if you made it back to Jackson alive, you would have to live everyday with that regret as you knew your relationship would be dead the moment you left the walls that brought such security.

        That's if they ever let you back in.

Selfishly, you chose to indulge in the moment with Jesse. There had been an idea, a small faint scheme that preyed on the argument in the stables, adding fuel to the fire to make it billow above the tree lines. It would've made it an easier hurdle to get over when you turned your back on Jackson, but his attentiveness had seized you from head to toe.

Leant into his touch, you let Jesse kiss down your neck to his favourite spot, your collarbone, where he nipped at it. You scoffed in turn and shoved him gently, not able to keep your own smile of forgiveness at bay.

You hoped he would do the same.

"Is everything OK?" Jesse could work out your head better than you. You hated it sometimes.

As he reached to smooth the furrow of your brows, you replied, "Yeah. I'm just tired."

"Let's go to bed then." Jesse walked past you confidently and headed toward your bedroom, halting when he didn't feel your presence behind him. You wiped at the quick tears that had fallen before he turned, replacing them with a false smile which Jesse noticed but didn't comment. He'd ask in the morning. Holding out the palm of his hand to you, he spoke, "You coming, or do I have to drag you?"

"I think you might have to drag me." You joked, the lump in your throat sizeable but you managed to swallow it.

Two strides, Jesse had made it back to you and threw you over his shoulder with ease, his hand coming to your backside for a teasing smack as you laughed genuinely.

Seattle would be your downfall.

[gracieheartspedro]

Who We Are

pairing: fem!reader x dbf!joel miller

description: when your father falls ill, his patrol partner and best friend, joel miller finds a way to aid in his recovery. but this solution is complicated and requires you to take on a week-long hunt for supplies and resources. being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in evenutally.

word count: 17k words. this one is a LONG ONE. get a snack.

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, post!outbreak joel, age gap (reader is in her 30s, joel is in his mid 50s), i don't describe the reader all that much, consumption of alcohol, illness that requires medical intervention, blood, guns, killing of infected, forced proximity, joel is kinda pervy?, talks of loss of family members, joel lies about his past, oral (f receiving), face sitting, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, dirty talk, creampie, after care.

author's note: ... hi folks! this one is a long one, so like I said, grab a snack and get comfy! I was going to make this multiple parts but I'm eager and unhinged. to be honest, this story is better as one big one shot anyway. I had a very intense time editing so I know I probably missed some things. I may write little branch off stories if you guys enjoy it enough. anyway, enjoy! <3 lemme know what you think!

“Didn’t know you were workin’ tonight, darlin’,” Your father’s Southern drawl brings you out of your daze. You had been cleaning glasses for the last hour and a half. Surprisingly, the Tipsy Bison wasn’t busy on a Wednesday night. You had been keeping busy by cleaning and serving two visitors. 

You look up, noticing your father and his patrol partner wander into the bar. They find a seat at the bar, right in front of you as you dry some whiskey glasses. 

“I work every night this week, Pops,” You mutter, turning back to the liquor bottles to grab his favorite bourbon. You knew exactly what he came here for. He wanted to pester you on your shift and watch you write under his partner’s gaze. He thought your little crush was entertaining. You have made comments to your dad in the past about how you thought Joel was nice to look at and your Dad would just laugh. He would jokingly wiggle his finger at you and tell you to find someone your age. 

Little do you and your father know, Joel feels similarly about you. The first moment he saw you, he thought about how if he was a young buck, he’d lock you down as soon as he could. The age held him back initially, never even entertaining your subtle glances or welcoming smiles. Then when he realized who your father was, he immediately shut down all thoughts like that in his head. You were strictly off-limits.

“Well good, keeps you busy.”

You did not enjoy the idea of working every weeknight with a bunch of drunks, but this job was a bit better than constantly shoveling horse shit. Instead, you got to mingle with the locals. Maybe find yourself a man, since you were in your early thirties and unmarried.

Joel loved coming to the Bison when you were here. It meant he got to drink a whiskey neat and watch you twirl and rush around the bar. Tonight was slower, though, so he got the privilege of speaking with you, which was rare. 

You pour your Dad his bourbon, finally glancing up at his partner who’s practically ogling at you. You made a conscious effort to avoid his piercing brown eyes. 

Joel Miller was a dream boat, god damn. Every time he glanced in your direction, you would freeze up and stutter out a very jumbled “hello”. He was quite guarded, never much to talk. When he did finally speak, you found yourself reeling over his deep voice. 

“Whatcha want, Mr. Miller?”

His lips twinged, his eyes flicking up to yours. He loves hearing you say that, he thinks to himself.  You hand off the bourbon to your Dad, waiting for a response. 

“Whatever he’s having is fine, sweetheart,” He says plainly, nodding toward the half-empty bottle. Your knees could buckle at the nickname, but you keep your composure. You can’t crumble that easily. 

You three slide into a conversation about their patrolling, what they found that day, and the game plan for tomorrow. You make a sly comment about how they needed to find some meaning in life other than patrol. Your dad laughs, and Joel just stares blankly at you. You instantly want to take back the comment and never speak again, ever. Instead, you just continue drying the glasses you just washed. 

When your dad finished his bourbon, you noticed his expression change from relaxed to pained. 

“You okay there?” You ask, grabbing his glass and placing it in the sink below the counter. He rubs his chest, letting out a deep guttural cough. Joel looks perplexed while you get closer and notice the blood splattering into your dad’s palm. 

“It’s nothing, just a cough,” He manages to say, his voice hoarse. You scan his face, knowing immediately that he’s lying.

“Bullshit, you’re coughing up blood,” You reach towards some towels, tossing them on the counter in front of him, “You should probably go get checked out, Dad.”

Joel quips, “Yeah, don’t need you getting sick when we are out tomorrow. Why don’t you stop by the infirmary before you go home?”

Your Dad just shakes his head, “You two are being dramatic. It’s nothing, I promise.”

Your Dad was known for downplaying his pain and sicknesses. You remember being a little girl traveling with him across the country and every time he got hurt, he’d just suck it up. He shattered his left pinky years ago and he resolved to just chop it off. So that’s what he did. He was lucky it never got infected. But he was known just to blow off all his ailments, reminding you he’s beat all the other odds. 

So instead of fighting with him, you just nod all the while, stealing a long glance at Joel. He’s finishing his drink and you can’t help but watch his neck. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and you fixate on it for a bit too long. 

You’re brought out of the trance when he slams the glass down, his dark brown eyes drooping. Joel always looked tired, but you knew after the day they had, he was actually tired. 

You had a couple more hours at the Bison before you had to close up, so you bid them a farewell, reminding your Dad that you’d be home before he stumbles off to bed. He never slept much, he would just read in the living room until you got home usually. 

Joel waves you a farewell, thanking you quietly for the drink. 

“Don’t be a stranger,” You say as he turns his back to you to head for the door. He turns a bit, giving you a slight smirk as he reaches for the door. 

You spend the rest of your shift daydreaming about what it’d be like to be with a man. You spent most of your time in Jackson without giving much of the men your age a thought. More than half were taken, anyway. While you let your mind wander, you realize your imagination is placing Joel in the spot of all the made-up situations with this said man. 

-

You lock the bar door behind you, tugging on it to ensure it’s snug in the latch. The air was shifting, the cool warm summer turning into a slightly chilly fall. You wore a long sleeve today, luckily, or else you’d be shivering on your way home. The walk home wasn’t a long one. 

When you reach your front door, you realize the living room light is on. Dad’s awake.

But as you reach to turn the knob, you hear ghastly breathing from the other side. When you swing the door open, you see your Dad in his recliner, his hand over his chest. He’s dry heaving, trying to get out a cough. 

“Hey, hey,” You quickly race to his side, “Are you okay? What’s happening?”

He breathes in deeply, “I just can’t seem to catch my breath. Something isn’t right.”

You have never seen him so panicked. You nod, understanding that your next step is to get him to the infirmary. He should have gone on his way home. You didn’t know if anyone would be there and you surely didn’t know if they would be able to treat his symptoms. 

“Are you in pain?” You ask, grabbing under his arms to lift him out of his chair. He’s wobbly, so you keep your hand under his armpit and use your other free arm to balance him. He shakes his head. 

“Just weak.”

Your heart sinks. Never in your life has your father admitted to feeling weak or sick. It was like as soon as he got home, his body just gave out. You help him into his shoes and start your trek back towards the middle of town. You wish you didn’t have to walk him so far because it felt like with every 5 feet, his lungs were giving out and sending him into a coughing fit. You probably woke the entire town trudging him through the streets. When you get to the front step of the infirmary, you knock as loud as you can. Usually, they had an overnight shift nurse helping, having them watch over whoever was dragged there during the day. Dispensing medicine if need be. You knew a couple of the nurses, most of them your age or a bit older. 

When a familiar face opens the door, you feel a sense of relief. 

“Hey Sidney,” You greet her, sort of pushing your Dad into the room, still keeping your hands wrapped around his center, “Something’s wrong with Pops.”

She reaches out to help you with him, “Oh no, what’s going on?”

“Can hardly breathe,” Is all he can muster out. You look at Sidney, concern spread across your face. She nods, knowingly. 

Sidney was one of the nurses you trusted the most. She gave you stitches when you sliced your hand open on a glass bottle a couple of weeks ago. She was patient and gentle, always checking to see if you were doing alright as she sewed your skin together. She’s a former Firefly, probably in her 40s. She got trained by some doctors years ago so she knew a decent amount about all sorts of medical treatment. 

She takes hold of the situation completely, grabbing your Dad and walking him to a free bed near the door. She gets him to lie down and she starts scrambling for some supplies to do a quick once over of him. He looks pale and for some reason, very small, in the hospital bed. 

“It’s gonna be alright,” You say, poking his arm. You say it for him, but you mainly say it for yourself. He closes his eyes and nods. 

“Always is, kiddo.”

-

The news was not ideal. After observation and some tests, Sidney decided your father probably has pneumonia. The problem was, that Jackson was low on antibiotics and they would have to decide if your Dad’s case was urgent enough to give him some. 

It pissed you off, but you had to hold back your anger. This situation was out of Sidney’s control, but you knew exactly who to raise your voice to. Sadly, the city council was asleep in their beds, as it was 4 a.m. Sidney reassured you that she would ensure your father was looked after until the morning when they could discuss with everyone if it would be okay to give him some of the highly sought-after antibiotics. 

But for now, you should get some rest. 

Your father fussed at you while he was in and out of sleep, telling you that you needed to go home and sleep. Your body was plagued with exhaustion and your brain was hardly functioning. You would need to plead a good case, so even a couple of hours of sleep would do you good. You ask if you could occupy a bed nearby and Sidney agrees with a sympathetic smile. You curl up, trying to clear your brain of your racing thoughts. 

You can’t lose your father, he’s all you have. 

You need to remind the council of all your father does. 

You need him to get better. 

You need him. 

-

“We only have 4 vials of antibiotics,” Maria states, trying not to look you in the eyes. She feels horrible, but she knows deep down the rest of the council will probably reject your father using any. It was going to be a tough decision like this that made most of the people in the council think they were playing God, but it was real life. Would they give your 60-something-year-old father antibiotics for pneumonia or give it to a young child suffering from an infection? They had to think ahead and supplies were scarce. 

You cross your arms, waiting for the next shoe to drop. “And?”

Tommy stands up, knowing you will not like the next sentence. He practically guards Maria with his broad frame. He resembled Joel, with his dark hair and stern eyes. His were a bit softer. 

“We are low on resources, hun. We need to think ahead and ensure that the pros outweigh the cons of giving him one of those vials. You understand?”

“Why was this not a thought in the summer? When it was a good time to go seek some out? I just don’t under-”

“We had that sickness going around over the summer. Lots of people getting fevers. Before we knew it, Dr. Peters realized we were low. I had intentions to get out and try to find more, and trade with some people, but we just haven’t discussed it all yet. There’s a process. It was in the works.”

Your blood is boiling and your patience running out. Each second of arguing was another second your Dad could be closer to death. 

“Well, it’s a shitty fuckin’ process. Where can I go to get more, then? Is there another community we can trade with? A hospital we can scavenge? You guys can’t expect me to sit around and wait for him to get worse.”

Maria looks to Tommy, trying to wrack her brain for a response. Tommy’s lip twitches, knowing exactly what to say. He did not want you to do it, but he knew how you were. You’d do anything for your family. 

“There’s a hospital in Salt Lake that I’ve heard is practically untouched. Fireflies used to reside there and do tests. They probably left behind some supplies.”

You narrow your eyes, “Salt Lake? Isn’t that a whole week away?” 

You start to pace the room, trying to console yourself. You can’t just leave for that long and assume that everyone will take care of your Dad. Tommy places his hands on his hips, trying to figure out a resolution. He liked your Dad, always going to him if he needed help around the commune. Your Dad is always one to offer a helping hand and give solid advice. He didn’t want to watch him die, either. 

“How about this,” Tommy huffs, “How about we give him one of our vials and you and Joel head out to Salt Lake to scavenge that hospital? If we are right in our assumptions, there’s probably a lot of resources there. And Joel’s been there before.”

“Why are you roping Joel into this?” You press, crossing your arms. 

“Joel knows where to go. He can get you there in one piece.”

“Where am I going,” Joel’s presence takes you by surprise. You turn back at the front door of the infirmary, seeing Joel’s disheveled hair sticking up in every direction. He had red cheeks, probably from the jog he did to get there. As soon as he heard about your father, he booked it from the stables to his side. 

Tommy shoots Joel a knowing look, “You and her are gonna go back to Salt Lake. You think they have antibiotics at that hospital you took Ellie to?”

Joel’s visceral reaction sends you. His heart practically stopped when Tommy brought up the hospital. 

You start to sweat when he does, realizing you would have to travel that far with Joel Miller. 

He swallows, shifting his weight to his other leg. “Probably. Why can’t ya just give him what we have?”

Maria shakes her head at his response, “We have a long winter ahead of us, Joel. We have four vials left. This saves us from a council meeting where they shoot down everything. They won’t approve it. If I reassure them that you are going to get some more, they won’t mind if we give him one.”

He huffs, scratching his chin in contemplation. You knew this would not be ideal for him, but you’re willing to do anything, even if you had to do it alone. The four of you stand in silence while Joel wracks his brain for an excuse to say no. None comes to him. 

It’s not that he did not want to help you, he just does not want to relive some trauma with you by his side. He would have to swallow back all his emotions, all the while you would be posted up right next to him. He does not want you to see him falter under pressure.

“She can’t go alone, Joel,” Tommy quips, gesturing towards you. You were shaking, your body reacting before your brain even could. Your nerves were shot.

He shakes his head, “And if they don’t have the supplies?”

You didn’t even think that far. 

“They will,” Tommy says, matter-of-factly, “It’s our best bet. The Fireflies disbanded, there has to be stuff left behind.”

You don’t know how Tommy knows all this, but he must have good sources to know all these things. Joel nods at him, accepting his response. He looks back at you, trying to figure out how you feel about the proposition by reading your face. 

“Does that work for you?” His deep voice isn’t meant to be intimidating, but you flinch anyway at the question. 

“I don’t have much of a choice. My Dad needs the medicine. If you guys think we can make it there and back in one piece, I’ll do it.”

“We will leave tomorrow morning. In the meantime,” Joel waves over Sidney, who’s still sitting by your sleeping and dazed father, “Give him one of those vials.”

-

Joel sacrificing his time and effort for your father was unfathomable to you. Sure, Joel was a great friend of your Dad’s, but he truly didn’t owe you two anything. It made you enamored with him even more. 

As the day shifted into the evening, you sat by your Dad’s bed and waited for the antibiotics to kick in. His body needed rest, you knew that much because he slept more than he probably ever had in his lifetime. 

He was sweating out a fever, so every so often you’d pat his head with a cold rag. He would mumble a quiet “thank you” and then return to snoring. As the sun sets, you welcome Sidney back for her night shift. She checked your Dad’s vitals, telling you his lungs are already sounding a bit better. You stretch and yawn, cracking every bone in your body while you do. You were stuck in the same position for so long, elbows on your knees, your chin propped up by your hands. 

You had a long trip ahead of you, and you couldn’t lie, you were scared half to death. You did not want to come back and find your father dead. You were also terrified about going back outside of Jackson. You spent most of your last 20 years living in the wild and shitty QZ’s. You were always on edge out there, and then you found Jackson. Ever since then, life has been a little more hopeful. You were able to form relationships and have some simple enjoyment, after all this time. 

Your Dad finally wakes up when you start stirring more. His one eye opens first which makes you crack a smile. 

“Mornin’ Pops,” You joke, grabbing his warm hand, “That antibiotic should start working soon. You’ll be better in no time.”

“Yeah,” He croaks, “But I heard you’re going somewhere.”

You bite your lip, afraid to stress him out. You knew he would worry about you, he always did.  

“Yeah, me and Joel are going to get more supplies. Nothing too drastic,” You lie, brushing your thumb over his scarred knuckles, “You trust Joel enough to take care of me?”

It was the first time he laughed in the last 24 hours, “Course he will. He knows how much you mean to me. If he fucks up, he will get a load of me, that’s for sure.”

His voice was reassuring to hear, especially since he’s joking with you. 

“Okay, I believe you,” You mutter, “We leave tomorrow morning, so I need you to be good and get all the rest you can. I want you up and moving when I get back, you hear me?”

“Roger that, kiddo.”

-

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Your tone is sarcastic and Joel can tell. You did not expect to be stuck with Joel Miller alone for a week, especially outside the walls. 

He clears his throat as he finishes packing up his horse. 

“Mornin’,” He grumbles, patting his horse’s mane, “Let’s get you all set up. You’ll be takin’ your Dad’s horse, Ranger. He is already saddled up, just need to get your stuff on there.”

Luckily, you packed light. You brought a couple of changes of clothes, some food, some camping gear, and of course, your gun. 

Joel helps you tie down your bag and ensures all the straps he just put on are tight enough for you. You just watch him, enjoying how just takes control of the situation. He had the father instinct, always making sure everything would be safe and secure for the girls he loved. Or liked. Whatever.

You thank him, grabbing onto the saddle and flinging yourself up onto the horse. Ranger was truly your favorite horse in all of Jackson. He was the best behaved and the biggest. His mane was long and black and he loved to be brushed. You spent a lot of evenings riding him for fun, just enjoying his company. 

Joel gets on his horse, adjusting how he sits before he takes the reigns and guides you towards the main gates of Jackson. 

“You still sure you’re ready for a run like this?”

He’s giving you a chance to back out. But this was now an obligation. If you didn’t do this, you would indebted to everyone. You would be the person to blame if someone’s loved one died. Not really, but you felt that guilt. 

“Readier than I’ll ever be, Joel.”

-

“How is Ellie doing?”

You were burning to make conversation. You needed to rid your mind of all the anxiety surrounding your own life. Joel was too quiet, it made you feel queasy. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts. You were about 20 miles outside of Jackson, the sun was coming up through the foliage. 

He inhales sharply, “She’s a teenage girl. She’s grumpy.”

You grip onto the reigns of your horse, your body swaying back and forth with the trot. 

“I remember being that young and being constantly annoyed by my Dad’s nagging,” You chuckle, remembering the days of angst, “Are you annoying her, Joel?”

Joel scrunches his face at such allegations. If anything, Ellie was annoying him. 

“Course I’m not! Just… want to make sure she’s doing good. Which she is. Everyone tells me ‘bout how helpful she is.”

You think back to the last interaction you had with Ellie. She had been helping out at the stables when you were in charge of feeding and cleaning the horses before you got the job at the Tipsy Bison. Ellie wanted to know everything you knew, pestering you with silly questions like what their names were and why they were named what they were. 

“She’s very helpful,” You acknowledge, thinking about how enthusiastic she always was about learning, “You raised her right.”

He huffs, “Was hardly me. She’s just smart and raised herself.”

You did not quite understand the history between Joel and Ellie, but you knew Joel was not her biological father. You had no clue how they found each other or when. But you could see the love Joel had for Ellie. You remember him lighting up when he explained to you and your dad how she was the best shot amongst the recruits. 

Joel will probably never indulge you in the specifics of his relationship with Ellie, simply because it’s complicated. He never felt the need to explain himself to anyone but Tommy. 

“You had a hand in some of it, Joel. Give yourself a little credit.”

But Joel was never good at that. He was hard on himself, weary to accredit any of Ellie’s behavior to himself. 

The rest of the ride was occupied with the sound of leaves rustling. Joel spots a fallen tree that he says would be a good eating spot. You agree, hopping down off your horse with ease. You tie his reins up on a nearby branch and start digging through your saddle bag for the apple you packed for yourself. You were sick with unease all day. With everything going on in your life, the last thing on your mind was hunger. Plus, you were alone with a man that you had to put all your trust in. 

You pop a squat on the chipping bark and get out your pocket knife to start cutting the red fruit. Joel gets out a bag of jerky from his pack and finds a spot next to you. He looks over at you, perplexed at your food choice. 

“Just some fruit?” Joel interrogates, instantly knowing your hunger cannot be satiated by apples. No one can be satisfied with only fruit. 

Your stomach churns at your first bite, “Just not that hungry.”

That’s all the explanation he needs. You watch as he starts to munch on his bagged meat, cringing at the sound of his mouth. You try to block it out, but it’s eating away at your brain. You hated the sound of chewing, it was such a stupid pet peeve, but you couldn’t help yourself. Joel is oblivious, probably not even hearing how loud he’s being. You smack his arm out of instinct, something you did to your dad when he was being too obnoxious. 

He looks down at you with furrowed brows and annoyed eyes. 

“You’re eating too loud,” You say, wanting to smack yourself at how stupid it sounds out loud. 

He looks away, completely flabbergasted at the reaction. “Eating too loud? Really?”

You feel embarrassed for letting your brain get the best of you. So you just cut more of your apple off and slowly crunch on it. You try your best not to hyper-fixate on your chewing. When you’re in a trance, lost in your thoughts, Joel nudges you back. He’s getting you back, now. 

“Now you’re chewing too loud,” He jokes, popping another piece of his jerky in his mouth, “Should probably keep it down. So loud you may attract some infected.”

You can’t help but smile at his stupid rebuttal. You give him props for making you feel less foolish. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, eating another slice intentionally loud, “Can’t help myself. They are just so crunchy.”

You hear him giggle, his smile easing your churning stomach. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll forgive you this one time.”

-

You knew the ride to this hospital would be long, but you didn’t realize how barren the landscape would be. You also didn’t realize how bad your ass would hurt. You and Joel finally pull off into some woods when the sun starts to set. Joel acts like he knows exactly how to navigate the woods, guiding his horse deeper and deeper. In between some large trees, you spot a lake. 

“Wanna go swimming?” You question after hours of no conversation. He glances back at you with a sly smirk on his face. When you look to your right, you notice a small path. Joel clicks his tongue for his horse to follow it. You two trot through the leaves, before coming upon a small decrepted cabin.

“This is us,” He states as he halts his horse. 

He had secretly always pictured taking you out here. He could not help but insert you into his small fantasies. Some nights he would imagine what it would be like to have you stick by his side forever. He always felt guilty afterward. 

You look at the building in wonder, completely speechless. You assumed you would be camping on the forest floor, not in an intimate cabin by a lake. You swing your leg over and slide off your saddle. Joel starts to tie up his horse nearby and you follow suit. You continue to look at the cabin, curious as to who kept up with it. It looked well maintained, besides some cobwebs at the peak of the roof. 

“Is this yours?”

He shakes his head, “No. Technically Tommy’s. He goes this way to get to another settlement about 50 miles south. He found this place on a whim and cleaned it up.”

You look around the area, seeing there’s even a fire pit right by the water. It had chairs and stones to outline the charred wood. You could not help but imagine what this place was before Tommy found it. How many fun nights were probably spent here by the original owner? If you had no one to go back to, you would just live here. But the more you think about that scenario, you think about how lonely you would probably get. Maybe if you had someone to stay with you. 

You finally look back at Joel. He’s standing on the stone path with his eyes locked on you. You get self-conscious for a moment, realizing he probably noticed how entranced you were with the surroundings. 

That’s exactly what he was thinking, too. How beautiful you stood in the shadows of the trees, your eyes curiously glancing around like a kid in a candy shop. You had him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it. 

“You good if we stay here overnight? Get back on the road tomorrow?”

How could you ever say no to an offer like that? 

You nod, swallowing back your insecurity, “Yeah, for sure.”

-

Joel could build a good fire. Watching him gather all the wood and place them into a perfect formation. As soon as he lights it, it builds and builds. When the warmth envelopes you, you start to finally feel at ease. Joel sits down with a stick, nudging the fire every so often.

He felt guilty. He felt like he was betraying your father, a man who was trusting him with his daughter. He should not be imagining how a little life in the woods would look like with you. He should not be picturing how beautiful you would look underneath him. He should not be having these devious thoughts about you. His eyes are trained on the flames as they build, trying to push those daydreams away. 

When his sleeve lifts as he toys with the charred wood, you notice the watch on his wrist. It looks ancient, the face of it shattered. You don’t realize you’re staring at it until he snatches his hand away from your view. 

“Sorry,” You retract, sitting further into the chair, “Your watch is broken.���

He places the stick next to his foot, finally out of his head for a moment, “Yeah, I’m aware.”

You were so stupid. You know not to pry further, knowing there’s probably a story and you don’t feel like you’re at a stage with Joel Miller to dive deeper. He notices how small you making yourself, and it makes him feel bad. He never wants to make you insecure. 

“Your necklace,” He starts, trying to place your mind somewhere else. It was a feature on your body that he noticed ages ago, but he never tried to beg the question, so this seemed like a great time to move the subject along. “Is it a moon?”

You reach up to your throat, feeling for the necklace you never took off. It feels like he almost wants to see if you will spill your story first. He is bad at reading women, sometimes. Most of the time. 

“Yeah, it was my sister’s.”

He feels stupid, instantaneously. As soon as those words fell from your lips, he put his face in his hands. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Your feelings towards what happened 20 years ago were drastically different than how you feel now. You could still feel the horror and the pain you felt, but it wasn’t so gut-wrenching anymore. It honestly doesn’t even feel like it happened to you. 

You drop the crescent moon charm from your hands, “No, it’s okay. She died on outbreak day. She was a bit older than me, her name was Reagan.”

He looks up at you and just nods, taking in the information. You don’t know if it’s a gesture for you to continue to talk, but you take it as just that. 

“Her and my mom were at one of her soccer games when all hell broke loose. From what I heard, she was bit by one of her teammates and when me and my Dad were packing up our things to get out of there, I grabbed some of her stuff. A necklace, a sweatshirt, and her favorite pair of sneakers. I don’t know why. But yeah, this necklace is the only thing that survived 20 years. Sweatshirt got too small, shoes got too torn up.”

You don’t even notice the tears pricking in your eyes until you blink. You don’t even remember what she looks like, her face is kind of jumbled in your memory. You remember her hair though, long and brown and super curly. Joel just listens, his eyes trained on your hands as you nervously rub them together. When you peer up at him, you see the mutual pain written on his face. 

He thinks to his beautiful Sarah. His eyes fall to his broken watch. The pain is still very palpable. 

“‘m glad we have somethin’ from our people. Somethin’ to remember them by, ya’ know?”

You scan his broken watch and nod timidly. “Yeah, something to remember them by.”

-

You stand up after eating some more food you packed, ensuring you’re somewhat nourished before you go to sleep. Joel stares at the fire, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He knows he has to sleep, but he knows you need it more. He’s willing to give up his hours for yours. 

“You want me to do first watch?” You quiz, hoping to get the answer no. Instead, he just shrugs. You cross your arms, a cool shiver going down your back as you step away from the fire. 

“I’ll start first,” He mumbles, grabbing his poking stick, “There’s a bed in there all ready for you. Get some rest, we got a long day tomorrow.”

You respond with a slight wag of your head, “Okay, goodnight, Joel.”

You turn on your heels and head towards the front door of the cabin. You creak the door open. It’s pitch black so you step back onto the small porch to grab the lantern Joel lit a while ago. You slowly creep through the one-room cabin, placing the lantern on the small table by the door. It lit up most of the room so you got a great look at the wooden framed bed, waiting for you to lay upon it. 

You feel a pang of guilt making Joel sit outside to guard you as you slept. You knew you needed rest. You also knew it would start getting colder and colder and that fire would die eventually. 

Joel could handle himself, after all. You would just have to push your worry aside. When you curl up onto the hard mattress, you think back to the last time you were left to trust another man to look after you as you slept. It was a traumatizing night, so instead of worrying yourself, you close your eyes and remind yourself that Joel is safe. Dad trusts Joel. Joel is a good man. 

Sleep eventually takes over, your soft snores rattling off the wooden walls. 

After a couple of hours, the shivering takes over Joel’s body, so he creeps into the cabin. The lantern is dimmer, slowly running out of fuel. He shakes his head, smiling to himself at your disregard for resources. He walks over to the small wood-burning oven, opening the door to it as quietly as he can. You don’t even stir. You’re a deep sleeper, he would remember. 

He starts a fire with the old coals, warming up the small space. Once he stands up from his squat, he hisses at the crack of his knees. He glances over at you, making sure he did not wake you. Nothing. 

You were a peaceful sleeper, your mouth slightly ajar. To Joel, you were always so beautiful. Not even just your looks, but your kind and reserved nature. You always gave him a delighted smile when he looked your way. You were dedicated to always being there for your father, which would always melt his cold heart. He would always watch you with a careful eye, praying that you would somehow get older or him, younger. He hated himself for admiring you so often, especially since he respected your father so much. But you were right there. 

He sat himself in the old recliner chair near the door, peaking out the window every so often. He would always find himself training his eyes back on you, watching your chest rise and fall slowly. 

It takes everything in him not to curl up next to you. 

-

The second day starts off a bit rough. 

When you wake up in the early morning hours, you take notice of a sleeping Joel in the corner of the room. You spring up, loudly rattling the bed frame. It sends Joel jumping out of his skin, his eyes flying open to look at you.

You are panting like you just ran a mile. 

“Jesus Christ, girl,” He barks, his tone tired but also vicious, “Thought someone had you at gunpoint.”

“You were sleeping!”

“Shit, yeah I was, wasn’t I?” His tone is more relaxed, sort of annoyed. He rubs his eyes, glancing outside. Your horses were still there and it doesn’t seem like you guys have been ransacked. 

You clench your fists, “You’re lucky we didn’t get shot in our sleep or something.”

He rolls his eyes, slowly rising from the chair he took over, “That’s a little dramatic, sweetheart. We are fine.”

After that comment, you did not want to talk to Joel Miller. 

You also start to question if you can trust him. He should’ve woken you up to take charge of the watch, but instead, he ignorantly fell asleep and risked your life. 

When you pack up to leave, he realizes how rattled you are. He wants to apologize, but he’s too stubborn to do so. You were being dramatic. But he shouldn’t have said that. He should’ve kept that comment to himself. He was never really good at holding his tongue, always saying the first thing on his mind. 

-

When the sun sets on the second day, Joel promises you two should be in Salt Lake the next afternoon. The whole day pretty much consisted of you two bickering about state capitals. He swears the capital of Pennsylvania is Philadelphia. 

“It’s not, it’s Harrisburg,” You would say. 

You also talked about times before the Infection. He mentions his daughter, Sarah, telling you about how she used to play soccer and she loved going to the Texas State Fair. It makes your heart happy to hear him light up about her, but it makes you want to cry hearing a father talk about his dead child. You can’t imagine that type of pain, and you hope you never do. He doesn’t even know why he’s suddenly baring his soul to you, but he starts to feel like his walls are falling away and he’s comfortable around you. 

He tells you about how he plays the guitar, which you lock onto quickly. 

“You’ll have to show me how good you are,” You smile, imagining Joel Miller strumming along to some folksy song you request. He can only imagine what type of music you would want to hear from him. 

“When we get home,” He mutters, “I'll give you a performance.”

“I cannot wait.”

The conversation with you was easy. You could get anything out of him, pretty much. You were a lot like your father, but softer. He enjoyed your company a bit more. Your laugh was infectious and you were a lot easier on the eyes, of course. When you two stop for a break, he watches as you look for four-leaf clovers on the forest floor. When you find one, you pick it up and bring it over to his hunched-down frame. 

“My mom used to say they were for love and luck,” You explain, “Think you need it for both.”

He knew you were joking by the way you giggle and return to your spot on the ground. He just shakes his head and sticks the clover in his jacket pocket. 

-

He was dreading being back in Salt Lake. He doesn’t want to relive that day when Ellie was practically ripped from him. It sent him spiraling just thinking about all the outcomes that could’ve transpired that day. 

He contemplates telling you for a few brief seconds. 

He wouldn’t have much to lose, especially now that everything is said and done. But then fear takes over and he wonders, would you judge him for it?

He imagines how you would react. How your nose would probably scrunch up, how your disposition towards him would soon contort into horror. You would probably call him a monster. You would probably never look at him the same way, with that beautiful smile and attentive gaze.

“You okay, Joel?”

You two were positioned on the edge of some woods off a dirt road. Joel didn’t want to attract anyone with fire, so you two decided you would just camp on the ground near the highway you would end up following to get into the city. 

“‘M all good,” He practically whispers, “Just tired. You mind gettin’ first watch?”

You just silently nod, watching him rise from his spot and move over to the sleeping bags you two had set up when you arrived. You watch as he awkwardly wiggles his large frame into a small sack. It makes you giggle a bit. He positions himself with his back to you, his front facing into the woods. He can’t spend his time staring at you like he would like to, he needs to sleep. 

You realize he has a leaf stuck on the back of his head. You couldn’t help yourself, it was going to bother you for as long as you were awake. You stand up and slowly creep up to him. 

You squat down and pluck the leaf out of his thick curls. His head snatches back at you, knitting his brows together in confusion. 

Secretly deep down, you just wanted to find a reason to touch him. 

“Can I help you?”

You give him a shit-eating grin, “Yeah, you just got leaves in your hair. It was going to bother me if I didn’t get it out. You’re very, very welcome.”

He rolls his eyes, “Can I sleep now?”

“Don’t know, I’m already getting bored without you glaring at me.”

You were now on a mission to annoy him, he guesses. 

Without thinking, he responds with a comment that would stick with you all night. 

“Yeah, you like it when I look at you, don’t ya?”

-

The homestretch was only about another 20 miles. You and Joel had made good time, only taking about three days to get to the hospital. After the subtle flirting with Joel the night before, you got a little more ambitious with your advances. 

Before you two took off to get to your destination, you asked Joel if you could change your clothes. You had mud all over your jeans and your shirt was reeking of body odor. The natural deodorants that were handmade in Jackson only did so much. 

“Yeah, make it quick,” He orders, pointing to a more private area of the camp, “There’s some bushes over there.”

“I’m not getting dressed in a bush, Joel. Just look away,” You test, already shrugging off your flannel. He notices your bold move, instantly peeling his eyes away from your direction. This can not be happening to him right now. 

“What the hell,” He murmurs, his hands propped up on his hips, “You’re doin’ this on purpose.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, “Doing what on purpose?”

“Testin’ me. Me and my patience.”

You throw your shirt over your head and grab one of your spare ones from your pack, “Well, if it’s a test, you’re passing with flying colors, Miller.”

He glances back at you without even really thinking, spotting you in your bra with a shirt covering your eyes. It’s almost like when you tell a child not to press a button, and it makes them want to do it even more.

He wanted to keep looking. 

“Fuck,” He says under his breath, trying to push those types of thoughts out of his mind. 

You shimmy off your pants, folding them as soon as you get them off your legs. You needed a shower so bad, you felt so filthy. 

“You think we could stop back at the cabin on the way home? I want to bathe.”

Thinking about you naked and taking a bath made his dick hard. 

“Yes,” He manages to say, “Hurry up, please!”

You grin at his frustration, “Fine, fine. I’m almost done.”

-

You and Joel trot along an abandoned highway, cars littering every lane. It was nothing new to you. You have seen plenty of cities in your lifetime. Each time was a bit different, but for the most part, they were all the same. Riddled with infected and bombed to shit. 

You think back to when Tommy said Joel had been here before. Your mind starts to wonder, and being that you still had a couple of hours before you got to see the actual hospital, you decide to speak up and ask. 

“When was the last time you were here?”

He thinks for a second. He was waiting for these questions. 

“Over a year ago.”

You shake your head, “Was there a reason?”

You had no business prying into Joel’s life, but you felt like after spending days with him, there was some kinship. Maybe even a friendship.

“Ellie’s mom was a Firefly. They had a base camp out here,” He explains, but would he go further? Would he spill all the beans?

It’s technically not his story to tell. But then again, Ellie didn’t even have the truth, so it was a story only he knew. 

You wait before responding, “Did you find her?”

“Who?”

“Ellie’s mom,” You press, glancing around some cars. You are trying to act like you didn’t care, but you could tell from the moment you entered the outskirts of the city, Joel was plagued with the weight of the atmosphere. His shoulders got heavier, his eyebrows further knitted together. He was tense. 

“No, she’s dead. So I brought her home,” He says, half-bending the truth. He’s lying, but not really. Ellie’s mom was dead but that was never the reason they came out here. He just wants to say it, but his chest feels like a weight is pushing down, almost cracking his ribs. He swallowed the guilt. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

You didn’t have much else to say, letting the silence eat away at the prickle of your arm hairs as they stood up. You try to relax, but now that you are in the city, it feels real. You traveled all this way for medication so Jackson would not shun you. It sounded kind of stupid, coming all this way in hopes of a stocked Firefly hospital. 

You also traveled all this way with Joel Miller. You managed to speak to him without tripping over every word and poking fun at him. You watched him sleep at night, looking so peaceful in the woods surrounding him. You try to think about the last time you saw him smile. You saw him differently, now. He came all this way to help you and your dad. He is risking a lot, disregarding his duties back home, just so he can be with you and protect you. 

You ponder if things will be different when you get home. Maybe he would talk to you more when he came to the Tipsy Bison. Maybe he would wave back at you when you saw him around town. 

You secretly hoped being next to him for so long would change your relationship with him. 

Joel starts to ride next to you, studying your face as you stare forward. 

“What are you thinkin’ bout so hard over there?” He poses, watching your face twist when he speaks up. 

You lick your lips, “Thinking about what it’s gonna be like when I get home.”

“What do ya’ mean?”

You halt your horse to look over at him. He does the same. 

“We came all this way and I am scared when we get back, you won’t want to talk to me anymore.”

He shakes his head, a slight chuckle escaping his lips, “Kiddo, your dad’s my patrol partner. ‘Course, I’ll still talk to you. You’re always around.”

The nickname makes you cringe. You don’t want to be a kid to him. 

“Right, of course.”

-

When you get to the edge of the city, Joel starts explaining the game plan. How you will get to the hospital, do your sweep as quick as you can, and don’t meander around. He also explains how the exit plan is to drop everything, no matter what, and return to the horses. You see someone? Run. 

You want to say you know how to handle yourself, but you resist and just nod in understanding. 

To your surprise, you two do not run into any hoards. You turn a corner and spot a couple of infected twitching near an old school, and you two carefully back up and go up another block to avoid them altogether. You two don’t say anything to each other as you spot the hospital in the distance. Joel just points forward, having you trot at his side. 

You pull out your gun when you start to hear some clicking nearby. Joel gestures to you to be quiet and continues to the front of the hospital. You two ride your horses to the ambulance drop-off, parking them there. When you jump down, you start to grab your pack so you can fill it with whatever supplies you find. Joel does the same, throwing his leather backpack over his shoulder. You check the magazine of your gun and take off the safety. 

“Okay, we stay close to each other,” He explains in a hushed tone, “Grab whatever you think we need.”

You wiggle your head in agreement. He raises his rifle as you two enter the side door. The hospital is quiet besides the wind blowing through some shattered windows. You click on your flashlight that is attached to your backpack, making sure it’s pointed forward. The main corridor leads you down to some triage rooms and nurse's stations. Joel gestures to you to check out some triage rooms. You find some bandages and some tongue presses. You grab the entire box of bandages and stuff them in your bag. When you return to the hall, Joel is stuffing some of his finds in his pack. 

“No meds yet,” He grumbles. You two press forward, keeping your steps silent. You find some lab rooms off the main hallway and you two scope out each room carefully, your guns still drawn and at the ready. You find more items; some gloves, masks, and some scissors. You pick them up, stuffing them in your back. 

You hear movement from behind you and quickly spin. It’s just Joel, holding a couple of vials of medication. You rush towards him, using your light to see what the vials read. 

levofloxacin 

amoxicillin

“Jackpot,” You murmur, “Any more?”

He grabs a baggie sitting on a table nearby, “Not that I saw.”

You continue searching, not finding much of anything in the drawers. A lot of the stuff is picked through. 

You point to a central staircase, “Wanna go up?”

“Yeah, right behind you.”

Joel was reeling, spotting some areas where blood was splattered across the walls as he walked through the hospital. It was terrifying to put himself back in this exact spot. It felt like a fever dream. Now he had you with him, another person he cared too much about to admit to anybody, let alone himself. He cared about you in a whole different way than he cared about Ellie. 

You trail up the stairs, finding some old labs and nurse's stations. All were picked through. You couldn’t help but notice the blood all over the floor in some areas. You try to figure out what could have transpired here, but you don’t even try to beg the question to Joel. With the look on his face, you are afraid to say much of anything. 

Something bad happened here and he was a witness to it. 

It made you want to hurry up and spare his feelings. Instead of taking careful and methodical steps, you run room to room searching drawers and counters for anything of value. You find some alcohol swabs, safety pins, and some wrist splints. When you get to the last room in the hallway you’re in, you hit the jackpot. It’s a cabinet with some vials. 

You start to quietly read them off to Joel who’s standing on the threshold of the room. 

“Grab them all,” He says, pulling his pack off his shoulder so you can put some into his, “We can find use for ‘em.”

You also find some sutures and unopened syringes. You wish you could get down on your knees and thank whatever god is up there for blessing you with everything. You don’t believe in that though, so instead you excitingly grab Joel’s arm and shake it. 

“Let’s get this all home,” You smile, pressing your fingers harder into his bicep, “Maybe celebrate with something strong from the bar.”

Then you hear it. 

Click. Click. Click. 

Joel grabs your arm back, shoving you behind him. He slings his pack over his shoulder and you do the same. You never had many issues with killing infected, but you did not know what you were dealing with. It was dark and all too quiet for too long. Joel creeps forward, his gun drawn forward to peek out the door. When you do the same, he tucks you back behind him. 

Lining the hallway is about 3 clickers. Your stomach drops as they slowly make their way to the sounds you two made seconds ago. Joel glances back at you, his face very serious and stern. 

You can read the look on his face and being that you dealt with these fuckers before, you know that you need to be silent. He looks back down the hall, spotting an exit in a staircase that’s slightly blocked by one of the clickers. He waves you along as he slowly tiptoes down the hallway. You get closer and closer to the first clicker and your gun is trained right at them as you keep your distance. You can tell by the clothing that it was a woman at one time, the infection growing out of every crevice of her body. 

She clicks and clicks, but does not attack you. You and Joel continue, not making a sound as you shuffle past the next one. But once you get close to the one closest to the door, something snaps and it’s like they all realize exactly all at once. One squeals and the others follow suit. Joel yells for you to run, but you don’t budge, emptying your gun into the closest one. It crumbles to the ground. With that one down, Joel grips your wrist tightly and flings you towards the door. You two rush out as Joel lights up the hallway with gunfire. 

You now know that you’re attracting every infected in a mile radius so time is of the essence. You practically fall down the stairs trying to get to the bottom. Joel does not like how fast you moving, pressing you to run faster. You two sprint down the hallway as two runners come full speed at you from an opposing hallway. You try to shoot but your gun is empty. You scream for Joel to do something and he puts them down expertly. He’s spot on even with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. You find the door you came in from and quickly make your way to Ranger. He seems sort of spooked so you try to gingerly climb up him, grabbing his reigns from the pole you tied him to. Joel is quick to mount his horse. He pulls his horse back, guiding it to head back the way you guys came. 

You follow suit, hearing stirring from all around you as your hair whips in the wind. You are not worrying about the noise you two are making now, galloping down the once-busy streets of Salt Lake City. 

“Don’t stop til’ I say so!” Joel calls out. You can hardly hear with your heartbeat in your ears and the wind against your ear drum. 

You get to the edge of the city after about 20 minutes of dodging left-behind cars and random barriers. You get to the point where the foliage takes over and the infected taper off. You don’t realize it until you start slowing down and your heart gets back to its normal pace, you’re freezing. 

You yell out for Joel, who’s still going quite fast. He halts completely, letting you catch up with his step. 

“We have to stop, I’m freezing.”

You weren’t wearing all your layers and you knew it would be detrimental if you didn’t stop to wrap up before you two continued your journey. Joel nods, trotting off the main part of the road into some woods. 

When you get off your horse, you can feel Joel’s eyes lock onto your vibrating body. 

“Jesus, girl,” He dismounts, wrapping his reigns around a nearby branch, “The wind do you that much damage?”

You can’t help but laugh as you rifle through your pack to find your extra layers. You can remember packing two thermals, but with the way you’re shaking, you can’t even grip onto the clothes to move them around to search. You don’t even realize Joel has come to your side, you only notice when he nudges your side with his three fingers. You move out of his way so he can look, but you can’t help but feel the warmth his gentle touch gives you on your hip. 

He pulls out a thermal, handing it out to you. 

“Just put it over your other long sleeve,” He instructs, digging for another layer for you. You take his advice and throw it over your head. When your head pops through the neck hole, you spot him smirking at you. 

“If you don’t warm up soon, I may have to share my body heat so we can get back on the road,” Joel jokes, watching you pull your hair out of the back of your long sleeve. You didn’t hate the sound of that, truthfully. 

“Guess I will try my best not to warm up then.”

He shakes his head, grabbing onto your other thermal, “You can’t say stuff like that to me, darling.”

“Why not?”

Joel has slipped up a couple of times already, he wasn’t planning on giving in. But the teasing was fun and light-hearted. He knew in his heart it was not going to turn into anything. 

Right?

“Because I don’t think it’s a very good idea for us to talk like that to one another,” He explains, stepping back as you add the other shirt onto your already warming body, “May lead us somewhere we can’t come back from.”

You swallow, “Maybe I’d like that.”

-

It takes you a day and a half to get back to the cabin. Joel promised that you two could spend a whole day there if need be. You two were physically and mentally exhausted. The horses needed rest too, you could tell Ranger was beat. 

When you arrive on the property, Joel makes sure to scope out a radius before you two settle in. Ever since the sly passes you made at him, he’s been more quiet. You can tell he’s deep in thought. Maybe it wasn’t about you, but he had something on his mind. 

You use the fire stove to warm up some water from the lake to give yourself a quick “bath”. You just used an old rag and some bar soap to scrub your limbs, trying to get off all the caked-on dirt. Joel stayed outside by the fire, cooking up some squirrels he was able to trap. You stood in your undergarments, lathering your skin, watching him from the window as he poked at the fire. 

You felt a bit better once you were clean. The growl in your stomach was dull and kind of painful. You needed to eat, so you got your dirty clothes back on and headed outside to prop yourself up next to Joel. 

When you open the cabin door, his head snaps over to you. 

“Howdy, cowboy,” You gleam, walking down to the stump next to him. You couldn’t help but flirt now. It was funny to watch him squirm, the glint in his eyes not hard to notice. 

“You all clean?”

You nod, giving him a cheeky smile. “Yeah, now you go get yourself all cleaned up.”

He grabs his stick poker, “Don’t got any soap.”

“Use mine.”

Joel stops his motion immediately to train his eyes back on you. “You want me to smell like you?”

“Well, I smell delicious, so why not?”

He scans your body with his eyes, “Cause if we get home and your Dad smells your soap on me, he’ll put it bullet between my eyes.”

You know he’s being dramatic, finding any excuse to opt out of using the soap you just used on your body. 

“So, what you’re saying is,” You clear your throat before continuing, “If my dad wasn’t your friend, you’d lather yourself with my soap?”

He contemplates for a moment, “Yeah, and other things.”

Your heart stops beating for a second. Joel can not help but smirk at your reaction. He was playing with fire, literally and figuratively. The tension between you two was so heavy, that you do not think you could even take a deep breath in. 

He stands up from his spot next to you. “Why don’t ya eat, sweet thing? I have to clean myself up, I guess.”

-

Joel can not do this. 

You were his friend’s daughter. Sure you were grown, beautiful, strong-willed, and everything he could want and more but he could not take advantage of you. The only way he felt this way right now was because tensions were so high back in Salt Lake. You two have spent a lot of time together, the hormones… what the fuck is he thinking?

You sit by the fire, your stomach doing back flips as you think about Joel in the cabin, by himself, practically half naked. 

Why were you doing this to yourself?

Your heart is racing faster than it ever has. No clicker, no stranger, nothing has made you this nervous. Your hand reaches for the door handle, but before you can turn it, Joel rips open the door. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You stand there, dumbfounded. “I-I don’t know.”

He’s standing over you, his chest rising faster the more you keep your eyes trained on him. He has a green flannel on, the top couple of buttons undone. You lift your hand to touch the skin peeking through, but he stops your movements before you can make contact. You note the scent of wood burning in the cabin and it’s a lot warmer than you left it. Joel must have started the stove again. 

“We can’t.”

You shake your head, “No, we can’t, can we?”

You two know better. You know better. You know better. 

You are breathing in each other’s spaces. You don’t even want to look him in the eyes. His arm snakes around your midsection, pulling you forward into the cabin. At that moment, you knew that you two didn’t know any better. 

It’s almost like you two silently made the decision. 

“We can’t tell anyone about this, sweet girl,” He whispers, his hands still firmly on your back. You could not resist this temptation anymore. He was right in front of you, wanting you just as badly as you wanted him. 

Your eyes glance up at his dark sultry gaze, “It’s our little secret.”

His hand reaches up, gracing your chin with his touch. When he dips down to meet your height, you finally get bold and extend your hand up and around his neck. Your lips connect and you feel like a million little butterflies explode in your stomach. You had never desired a kiss from anyone as much as you did with Joel. 

He’s eager and impatient, though. He’s not as soft as you imagined for a man who hardly spoke. He just wants to feel you everywhere, all at once. His mouth melts into yours, his tongue exploring every inch of yours. He’s moving you around the room, stumbling over furniture and shoes as he backs you into the large wooden bed frame. 

“So fuckin’ perfect,” He mumbles into your lips as soon as he lifts you up onto the mattress. It catches you by surprise, mainly because you never expected him to manhandle you in this way. He’s hungry for every inch of you. After all these months of secretly pining for him and him not giving you any positive response, you never anticipated something like this happening. Especially at a time like this. 

“Joel,” You whine, pulling him down on top of you as you fall back into the flannel blankets, “I need you everywhere.”

He grins peppering kisses down your neck, “Don’t worry, I will treat you so fuckin’ good. Been wantin’ you for so long.”

It was so filthy and hot. Your dad’s patrol partner, his best friend. Keen to make you feel good? And wanting it for a while? You must be imagining his words because you can’t even comprehend the situation. 

But it’s true. Joel’s secretly been watching you when you’re not looking. When you sling drinks on Friday nights, he watches you from a booth in the corner. Tommy’s caught him a couple of times, smacking him and reminding him that you were off limits. When you came to his house with extra pot pie or soup, he would watch you walk away from his house from his living room window. 

This taboo yearning kept him up at night. But now, he has you alone and he needs a taste. 

He pulls back to look at your face, “Are you sure you want me?”

You can’t help but giggle a bit. 

“Joel, I’ve been wanting you for longer than I would like to admit,” You purse your lips as you bring your hand up to trace his collarbone, “Think about you all the time.”

It was the truth. Your mind was taken up but all his little sly comments. The way he would drop anything to help you or your dad. His beautiful brown eyes didn’t help one bit either.

“My god, girl…Gonna have me cumming in my jeans like a teenager.”

He returns to laying kisses all along your body. It started with wet kisses down your neck, only for it to trail right where your shirt begins, right below your collarbones. You push him back for a moment, taking your shirt off over your head. He watched you carefully, ensuring there was no hesitancy with your actions. He wanted to be absolutely positive that this is what you wanted. 

As soon as you reach for the clasp of your bra, Joel grabs your arms away. 

“Let me,” He mumbles, letting his fingers trace along the seam of the black fabric before using his right hand to undo the back. With him this close to you again, you inhale sharply, catching the scent of your soap. 

“See you took up my offer,” You tease, letting your bra fall down your shoulders, “Did you get clean just for this, Miller?”

He catches a glimpse of you under the bra and his mind goes blank. You notice his change in disposition and decide it’s best to discard every other article of clothing completely. You struggle to get your jeans off, so he helps by practically ripping them off your legs. He can’t help but spot the soak undies attached to your jeans. When you are bare under him, he gawks at you for a moment. 

“A beautiful woman like you,” He shakes his head, biting his lip. He unbuckles his pants before he stands and shoves them down his legs. While he’s making an effort to get as naked as you, you start unbuttoning his flannel. He watches you take your time, thumbing each button slowly. He tilts your head back up, his eyes leering at you for a moment. “And you want someone like me?”

You know he’s probably in his own head, so you feel the need to prove to him, that yes this is what I want. 

You grab onto his neck and pull him back down into a passionate kiss. When you notice him give in, you use all your might to push him sideways and onto his back next to you. You mount his lap immediately, holding him down with your body weight. Your soaked slit trudges over his large hard-on while you dip your head to capture his lips. You feel his hands trail up the sides of your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He finds your boobs, palming them with his warm calloused hands. You were extra sensitive so as soon as his fingers find your nipples, you’re moaning into his mouth. 

When your hips jet forward, his tip slides between your pussy lips. The sensation sends him into overdrive, his grip on your waist getting tighter. He’s so fucking big. 

“No foreplay, you just wanna grind your pussy right onto my cock?” His question sends shockwaves through your body and you raise your hips up off his crotch. You kneel over him, anticipating to rotate your pelvis back onto him, but he has other ideas. 

Because Joel has been thinking about what you taste like for too long. He can’t just fuck you. He lays back, all the while, dragging you up to his chest so your pussy is hovering over his pursed lips. 

“Joel, what are you doing?”

You feel his hot breath huff onto your slick center, “I’m gonna devour this beautiful pussy, first. Need to get you warmed up.”

Without any warning, he wraps his arms around your thighs and pushes your center closer to his outstretched tongue. You gasp when he starts to run his tongue up and down your slit. You can’t help but settle around his face, your knees feeling like they may already give out. 

You’ve never sat on someone’s face and watched them eat you out like a starved man. But Joel is precise with his motions, his mouth wrapping around your clit. When he starts to suck, the suction noise makes you whimper and shake. You have only ever cum by your own hand, so when the familiar heat rises in your stomach, you know instantly this is going to be the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. 

Joel is a very easy man to please. He thoroughly enjoys watching women crumble above him, their orgasms surging through their bodies while his tongue is pressed into them. But with you, he wants to drudge it out of you over and over again. You’re so magnetic on top of him, your head thrown back in pleasure. Your hands rest on your shoulders as you grind down on him, your peak teetering the edge. He shimmies his hand in between your thighs and begins to use his fingers in you, just to drive you crazier. He’s fucking up into you with his pointer and middle fingers, managing to latch onto your clit while he does. 

When you tumble into bliss, Joel moans into you, egging on your spasms. You lurch forward, dragging your center off his drenched lips. Your legs are limp as you try to crawl up the bed. Joel rolls over, creeping up the bed with you. You lay on your back, propping yourself up onto some of the pillows. 

“Do you need a break?” He asks, his hands feeling up your bare, still kind of shaking, thighs. You shake your head “yes” and breathe out loudly. Your body is covered in a light sheen, the sweat pooling around your hairline. Joel lets you take a moment, making sure you are completely ready for him. 

When you finally meet his eyes, your stomach fills with butterflies. He’s admiring you from his position, his eyes not finding yours until he’s done checking out your bare chest. You giggle, tugging on his wrists. He takes up your advances, positioning himself above you. He’s caging you in with his tanned strong arms, only allowing you to really move your upper body. You tangle your hands through his messy dark peppered curls, which makes him sigh. He secretly loved it when women felt through his hair. 

“Fuck me,” He groans as he reaches down between you, grabbing ahold of his hard member. You watch as he drags it through your heat, gathering all your wetness before teasing your entrance. 

“Joel, please.”

He smirks, pushing in just his tip, “Please what, baby girl? You want me to give you all of it?”

You are already overstimulated after your last orgasm and you are a bit nervous to imagine what all of it is. You nod, though, because the stretch is already so delicious. 

“Please, Joel, please. I need it,” You whine, knowing how desperate you sound. It’s music to Joel’s ears. 

“Shh, baby,” He eases in further, “I told you I’m gonna treat you real good. Gonna treat this pussy, so fuckin’ good.”

When he’s fully sheathed in you, your nails are digging into his shoulders. When he eases back to pull out some to ensure you can take it, you’re a moaning mess. It only eggs him on, feeling how slick you are and how tight you are around him. 

“That’s right baby, take all of me,” He says as he lifts himself off you. You have nothing to grip onto now, except the sheets that line the queen-sized bed. Joel wants to watch himself slip out of you and go back into you with ease. You love the friction, but you know you need more. 

You don’t know how, but it’s like he reads your mind. He starts to increase his pace, holding onto the back of your thighs as he drills into you. The curvature of his dick hits exactly where no man could ever reach. 

“Oh my god, fuck Joel! Fuck!”

Your words only encourage him to go harder and faster.

“Keep screamin’ my name, baby doll.”

The sweat is dripping down his face with how much effort he’s putting into fucking you. You’re floored at how quickly your orgasm builds again, the sounds of him plowing into you alone sends you into overdrive. 

As soon as you start to vibrate under him, Joel takes that as a great time to start thumbing at your clit. You feel every one of your nerve endings burning with such rapture, that you can’t even say anything. You’re just howling, no coherent words even coming out. Your vision goes white.

The scene is something out of the old pornos Joel used to watch. You’re writhing under him, the orgasm practically sending you cross-eyed. You reach up to anchor yourself down and the only thing you can find to grab is Joel’s forearm. 

“Yes, Joel!”

His hips continue to snap into yours as you squeeze his cock with your gyrating hips. He’s fucking you through it, watching your face contort. Your grip on his arm hurts, but he does not care. It’s unbelievably hot to watch the girl he has adored from afar cumming around him. Over and over. 

The scene is enough to have him chasing down his own high. The feeling of your cunt gripping onto him so tight, while his name is chanted from your lips, the cum practically shoots out of him before he has time to grab his shaft and pull out. He does not empty himself in you though, quickly prying himself out of your weeping hole and spilling out the rest onto your stomach. 

“Shit.”

You don’t even realize what happened, not caring about really anything except for how wonderful and high you feel. Joel tumbles onto his side, half of his body resting on yours. His mouth is close to your ear so he whispers it to you, his voice shaky. 

“I came inside you.”

You lick your lips, trying to regain some saliva in your mouth, “I do not care, Joel.”

He does not prefer that answer, but he accepts it for the time being. You could not feel your face at the moment, you did not have time to worry yourself over Joel cumming inside you. It was not the first time someone did that. 

Joel rolls off the bed, his legs feeling wobbly with his first steps. He’s still half hard and stumbling over to the bowl of water he just used to clean off himself. He grabs a clean rag and soaks it in the soapy water. The least he could do was clean up his mess. 

You watch him trudge over to you, the cum still pooled on your stomach and a bit in your belly button. 

Joel places the warm towel on your lower tummy, wiping up his mess. 

“Thanks,” You manage to say, your post-orgasm haze wearing off a bit. Now you’re just cold and exhausted. You shiver as soon as he removes the towel from your buzzing body. He notes it immediately and grabs the blanket that had been kicked to the floor. He lays it over you, making sure your full nude body is covered by the chilly air. 

“I need to go take a leak, I’ll be right back.”

You try to stay awake. But as soon as he gets some clothes on and heads outside to relieve himself, you’re lulled to sleep by the sounds of the rustling woods that surround the cabin. 

-

When you slowly open your eyes, you instantly notice how dry your mouth is. The itchy fabric of the blanket is tickling your bare limbs as you shift. Joel’s not beside you. 

You sit up, glancing around the cabin. His stuff is still here, but he is not. You keep the scratchy blanket wrapped around you as you plant your bare feet on the wooden floor. As soon as you take your first step forward towards the front door, it slowly swings open. 

Joel stands there, fully clothed, cheeks reddened from the cold outdoors. 

“Mornin’,” He says with a sleepy voice, “Got up early to get the horses fed and saddled up.”

All you remember is him going to pee outside last night, right before you fell asleep. “Did you ever come to bed last night?”

“Yeah, only got a couple of hours of sleep. You took up most of the bed.”

You clear your throat, becoming hyper-aware suddenly that you are very naked under the blanket. Joel tries not to notice your natural sensuality when you wake up. Sleepy eyes, swollen lips, slightly tangled hair. Even if last night never happened, he would be completely enamored by you. 

“Oh, okay,” You mutter, trying to act natural about the fact that you slept with Joel fucking Miller last night. “We all set then?”

He shuts the front door, cutting off any more cold from slipping in. You watch him slowly start to invade your space. He feels pulled towards you, the gravity overcoming every sense he has. He needs to be close to you, touching you, feeling you. 

“Yeah, we are all set.”

Chills run down your spine when his cold hand reaches out and grazes your cheek. You flick your eyelashes towards him, not knowing what to say next. He dips down to your height, kissing your lips carefully. He is nervous you will back away from him, but you don’t. You lean forward into him, the weight of your entire body pressing into him. 

He is the first to pull away, but you swear you could be latched onto him forever. His big brown eyes are lasered in on your eager lips, but in the back of his mind, he knows that you two need to get back home soon. He promised Tommy four days, nothing more. And you needed to get home to your Dad. Fuck. Your Dad. His fuckin’ friend. 

“We have to get home,” Is all he says. 

And then he’s gone. It’s like he blipped out of the room. You blink and the door slams and you are alone again. 

-

You stumble out of the cabin with your backpack on, your eyes adjusting to the sunshine between the falling away leaves. Winter creeps in so quickly in Wyoming, you think to yourself. 

Joel is already posted up on his horse, waiting for you to hurry along and join him. You pet Ranger for a moment before you hop up onto his back. He can’t help but realize how perfect you seemed in the sunlight. Your face hasn’t aged with time like his. It makes sense because you’re so much younger than him. You’ve lived a very full and traumatic life, sure, but you still had a lot more energy to live. He couldn’t picture that you’d want to spend the rest of it with an older guy with maybe 20 more years left in him if you’re lucky. 

The thoughts start to eat away at him as you two make your way through the forest. 

You assume he’s just tired from not getting a lot of sleep, so you just keep your lips sealed until you make it to the main trail back home. 

“So, when we get home,” You break the quietness with your open-ended statement. Joel doesn’t know what you’re insinuating, so he just keeps his head forward. “What happens, then?”

He pulls back his horse's reins to position himself looking directly at you. 

“What do you mean?”

You look at him suspiciously, “Do we tell people?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Joel thinks. 

“Tell them what?”

He has to be messing, right? You think. 

But no, he’s deadly serious. 

“About us,” You remark as Ranger trots a bit closer to Joel. He shakes his head and your heart sinks. He can’t do this, not after you two slept together. 

“There is no us,” He grumbles, unable to look you in the eyes anymore, “We can’t do that. You’re too young.”

If you weren’t on a horse, you would’ve already smacked him. “What the hell, Joel? What if you get in my pants and make me feel special and now we are nothing? Because I’m a little bit younger than you?”

“No, it’s not like that-”

“Well, it seems like it is like that,” You bite the inside of your cheeks, holding back every instinct to burst into tears, “Fuckin’ asshole. I should’ve known better.”

-

When the walls of Jackson come into your line of sight, you could cry with excitement. Your hands were shaking, not only from the cold but the nerves. You had been silent the entire ride back. Your only desire was to get home to your Dad and ignore Joel Miller for the rest of your life. 

You can only hope and pray that your father is on the mend. To keep on track and not let panic take over, you’ve tried to put your mind on other things this whole trip. Most of those things you wish you’d forgotten, already. 

The doors open when you two get close. When the crack is big enough to see through, you spot some familiar faces waiting for you. Tommy, Maria, and even your father. He’s standing up straight, wrapped in layers of jackets and blankets. You tap Ranger with your foot, getting him to speed up. When you reach about 30 feet away, you practically fall off him to get your arms around your father. 

A sense of relief floods your body. A tidal wave of happiness and solace. He’s okay. He’s alive. 

When his scent reaches your nose, it triggers your tear ducts. After years of never having to really worry about him, knowing he can handle himself, you have felt this constant state of uneasiness the last week. 

“My baby is back,” He grumbles into your hair, his arms locking around you, “I knew I could trust that Joel.”

You don’t have time to feel guilt over your actions, you’re just so happy he’s upright. You also don’t want to hear his God-forsaken name from your own Dad. When you pull back to inspect his face, you note the tiredness in his eyes. He looks better, but not his normal. You grab each end of the blanket that’s slowly slipping off his shoulders and bundle him tighter. 

“Let’s get you back in the warm, how ‘bout it?”

You glance back at Joel who just nods, knowingly. You remember that you still have your backpack on, so before you stroll away, you shimmy out of it. Tommy watches you carefully as you hand it off to Joel. 

“Get those meds to the infirmary,” You whisper to no one in particular. Joel studies your face, waiting for you to say something else. You do not. As he grabs your pack, you feel like Maria and Tommy are gawking at you two. Like they know something was left unsaid. 

You two move differently around each other. When you shift one direction, Joel follows suit. 

Joel feels like every eye in Jackson is on him. Tommy’s being the most piercing, watching him like a hawk as he grabs his horse and guides him towards the stables. While you stroll away with Maria and your father, Joel and Tommy bring the horses and supplies to the stables. 

As you walk, you listen to Maria explain your father’s steady recovery. She mentions how Ellie has been keeping a careful eye on him. After she heard you and Joel were going to be gone together, she asked Maria if she could help him somehow. Once your dad got well enough to walk, she got him settled in your house. She’d go over there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, just to help. It makes your heart swell when you hear your dad say how kind and generous she was, just like you. 

-

Joel starts to unpack your bags from your horse first when he gets the horses parked. 

“Somethin’ happen out there?” Tommy presses, noticing how odd you and Joel moved in front of him, “With her?”

“No, nothin’,” He lies, placing your bags on a table near Ranger. When he lifted the first duffle bag, he got a whiff of you and it made his stomach sink. “We just had a rough spot in the hospital. Clickers and shit. Nothin’ too crazy-”

“Joel, I know when you’re lyin’ to me,” His eyes are shooting daggers now. Joel was too old to be pestered by his little brother. He groans in annoyance but Tommy does not give up, “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do nothin’, Tommy.”

“Bullshit,” He grumbles, grabbing one of your bags, “Want me to ask her?”

“You won’t get anythin’ out of her. She’s mad at me, okay? She is pissed I won’t…”

He feels humiliated, his stomach twisting into knots. He would never intentionally hurt you. He just put his foot in his mouth when he realized how much your actions would change everything for him. He could not just be someone you slept with. He could not just leave it. 

“You won’t what, Joel?”

He bites his lip, not wanting to say it out loud. 

“I won’t let her ruin her life for me.”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrow, not completely understanding what he’s droning on about. 

“What?”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy!” Joel wasn’t anticipating a shake-down when he got home. You two really didn’t help with those looks splattered across your faces when you rolled into Jackson.

“You slept with her, didn’t you?”

Joel shakes his head, peeling his eyes away from Tommy. Joel knew nothing could get past him, so he is practically surrendering. Tommy knew then. 

“You dumbass,” He whispers, getting closer to Joel, “You slept with her when her daddy is your patrol partner? After I told you to stay away?”

Joel clenches his teeth, “I don’t need this right now. I’m gettin’ these meds to the infirmary and then I’m takin’ her stuff to her.”

“Joel-”

“Just fuckin’ drop it, Tommy. I ain’t doin’ this.”

-

Your Dad has a nice setup, thanks to Ellie. She has transformed the downstairs guest room into a wonderful stay, with tons of pillows and bedside service. When you get inside the house, Ellie is there. She stands in the corner of the living room, timidly, as you guide your dad back to his warm bed. Maria and her wait for you to handle getting him back to his bedroom. Even though his recovery has been a steady incline, he’s very weak and exhausted all the time. It’s his body’s reaction to fighting a rough illness, but he made sure to reassure you that Sidney told him it’ll be a couple of weeks before he’s 100% back to normal. 

You get him back in bed, his eyes already drooping to find slumber again. You manage to get his shoes off and help him under his covers. Once his head hits the pillow, you stand by the bed for a minute to ensure he’s actually sleeping. You slip out of the room, and the sudden rush of comfort of being home takes over your senses. To hear the crackling of the fireplace, and the smell of your homemade candles. While you enjoyed every moment spent with Joel, there’s nothing like home. 

For a second there, you thought you had that same feeling being next to him in bed. But maybe you were wrong. 

You walk out to where Maria and Ellie stand. They are mumbling to each other while you kick off your boots by the door. 

“Hey, Ellie,” You catch her attention, her freckled face down turning with concern. You smile, trying to ease her, “Thank you for all you’ve done here. I am glad he had someone like you looking after him.”

She nods, her lips twitching, “It’s no problem at all. I know how much you two mean to Joel and I just wanted to do what I could.”

Hearing his name sinks your heart, “We owe ya one.”

Because you did. No matter what would eventually transpire between you and Joel, you owe him your father’s life. His idea saved him. With how sick he was, Joel’s quick plan was enough to bring him home. Then for Ellie to spend her days looking after him while you two were gone? You were forever indebted to them. Sadly. 

“Well, we should leave you to get settled. Let us know if you need anything at all,” Maria gestures to Ellie towards the front door. Their footsteps trail around you, heading to your front door. Before Ellie can reach for the handle, there’s a knock. You nod your head, letting her know it’s okay to open it. 

Joel stands there, your bags in his hands. 

You honestly just left your belongings for him to deal with. Joel looks down at Ellie, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. She’s not as impressed, initially. 

“Hey kiddo,” Joel acknowledges, before spotting Maria, “Mrs. Miller.”

“We were just heading out,” Maria says, pushing the door wider so she and Ellie can slip by his large frame, “Give the girl her things and let her settle back into her life, huh?”

Joel was already annoyed at the narrowed eyes and judgemental jabs. It’s like everyone somehow knew he fucked up. 

You two watch Maria and Ellie leave, their breaths forming clouds in the cold sharp air. Jackson’s weather changed overnight, you think, remembering how it was more tolerable before you left. 

“Can I come in?” Joel ponders, still holding your backpack and duffle. 

It was cold and while you wanted to slam the door on him, you know you can’t. You move away from the threshold, gesturing for him to come in. His footfalls are heavy and drawn out. You shut the door, waving him towards the living room so your voices don’t carry down the hallway to your father’s newly set up bedroom. 

He places your bags on the couch before he stretches his shoulders in discomfort. Your stuff was not that heavy, but Joel could not help but try to draw your attention. He glances around your living room, taking in some of the artwork and photos that line the walls. Some are old photos of you and your father, in which you don’t really resemble him at all. 

“Back to how things were, huh?” You remark, bitterly. You wanted to attack him with every mean thing plaguing your mind, but you don’t. You were tired from all the travels but you were also tired of the idea of fighting for someone who does not care to fight for you back. You had done that for years with pointless boys. 

The whole walk to your house, Joel’s thoughts were moving a million miles a minute. He did not want you to live your life resenting him. He cared for you deeply, but he did not want you to miss out on all the wonders of life. Joel could not give you kids. He could not give you 40 more years of happiness. He would be an elderly man before you could even reach menopause. He does not want you to regret things when you’re old and gray. 

“I don’t want that. You know damn well I don’t want that.”

You could scream. But you stay even, not giving in to the temptation to just rip him a new one. 

“I don’t know what you want, Joel. One minute you’re kissin’ me and begging to be with me, the next you’re telling me you can’t be with me because I’m too young.”

“Baby-”

“No! Don’t you dare? You had no intention of making this a thing, yet you played into it and got exactly what you wanted. I’m just another notch for you, ain’t I?”

Your hands are clenched, waiting for his delayed response. You are embarrassed and humiliated that you were delusional enough to let Joel toy with every one of your emotions. 

“You know that ain’t true, girl. I just don’t want you to live your life regretting that I was a part of it, okay? You want to spend your days with an old man who can’t give you everything you want? ’m not good for you.”

He can’t let you make this mistake. 

But you’re not easing up. 

“What do you think I want? Kids? A simple life? A picket fence? Joel those are things I wanted when I was living in a world that didn’t have a brain-eating infection that’d turn people into zombies,” You’re huffing and puffing, trying to understand why he thinks he can tell you what you need and want. 

“I spent years of my life wishing I could get those things, but I gave up a long ass time ago. I don’t want those things nearly as much as I want you. I fuckin’ want you, okay?”

You realize you’re not being quiet and your Dad could probably hear every word falling from your lips. He can hear you desperately plead with Joel Miller to be with you. 

Joel is shocked you’re laying all this out. He can’t believe his ears when you say you want him. A man like him being wanted is quite unbelievable, especially by a woman like you. 

You could hear a pin drop with how silent your house is. You fold your arms, trying not to give into the nausea you feel from spilling your soul to him. 

“I just…” He fidgets with his hands for a minute before those puppy eyes glance up at you, “I don’t want to ruin your life.”

You step closer to him, your face inches away from him. You train your eyes on his mouth, unsure how to respond to such blasphemy. 

“I have spent so many days thinking about what it’d be like to live in a world where the Joel Miller would even glance in my direction. I imagined what it’d be like to kiss him,” You’re whispering now, making sure this revelation is for his ears only, “I imagined what it’d be like to have a man who’d treat me well and look… Exactly like you. I have dreamed of you.”

Joel would have never guessed such a statement fall from your lips. 

You breathe out, relieved it’s finally off your chest.

“I just don’t want to leave ya worse than I found ya,” His softness instantly makes you crumble into his arms. He holds you tight, before pulling away to search your face. You teeter forward on your toes, pressing a firm but attentive kiss to his lips. 

When you draw back, “I’m not givin’ you up, Joel.”

The tension is shattered when you hear your Dad yell your name from down the hallway. You snap out of your trance of staring at Joel’s beautiful lips and dart toward the voice. 

“Yeah?”

You open the door and see him, his eyes wide open and focused on the door. 

“Who you talking to out there? Is that Joel?”

Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of every word you just said, scared half to death that your Dad would get out of bed and beat some sense into you. Joel follows you down the dimly lit hallway, but you don’t even hear him, too rattled by your father’s question. 

“Yes, it’s me,” Joel speaks up, coming forward to meet your Dad’s confused expression, “How you feelin’, man?”

“I’m feelin’ like I’m hearing some odd things from down the hall. You two fighting?” His voice is breaking a bit. 

The silence after he asks the question is deafening. You glance over to Joel whose mouth is slightly ajar, unable to move with an answer. You bite the inside of your cheek, wishing you could disappear into the wall nearby. 

Joel cannot lie to his friend. He certainly would never do it with you right beside him. 

“Yeah, you uh, heard us?” He barely manages. 

“Yeah, I sure as hell heard my daughter beggin’ you to take her on, is that true?”

“Dad-“

“My daughter wants to date a man that’s 10 years younger than her own father? Kind of twisted.” He snaps, shoving the blankets off his legs. “But, I am gonna be honest… I expected this.”

You can hardly breathe with the tension in the air. 

“Sorry?”

Joel’s tone is dry, and he’s unable to fully form a coherent thought. 

Your dad coughs before he starts, “Well, I could tell by the way you looked at her that you had a thing for her, Miller. Didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to entertain it.”

“Dad, he’s not dum-“

“And I thought you’d get over this little schoolgirl crush, but I was mistaken, I guess.”

You were used to your Dad’s sarcasm and upfront jabs. You spent a lifetime throwing them back at him, but this time you had nothing to say. You watch as he settles back from obnoxiously tearing off his blankets. 

You fiddle with your fingers, trying not to show your internal anxiety-riddled monologue. He thought you’d get over your crush. He always noticed how Joel looked at you. How did he look at you? How did you never notice?

Joel is spiraling, reverting to his original conclusions. He knew this was a horrible idea. He should have never stepped over the line. He’s a horrible man. You don’t deserve someone as awful as him. 

He smacks his lips, making you and Joel come back down to Earth and out of your heads. 

“Whatever is happenin’ between you two, I probably will never fully understand it. But you are adults, you do whatever makes you happy,” He says with both hands up in surrender, “I am too old to bother with my daughter’s love life. She’s a big girl, I trust her. But Miller, if you hurt her-“

“I’m a dead man.”

Your father laughs which in turn makes you smile crookedly. 

“Just one thing,” He points to you, “I don't want to hear or see anythin’-”

You nod, cutting him off immediately, “Deal.”

Joel catches your eye when he smiles in your peripheral vision. You look over at him, a grin plastered to your face. 

You can’t believe you’re actually going to do this. 

And Joel can’t believe your father somewhat agreed to let it happen. He was sure he would have a gun in his face before he could even mutter a word. But instead, your Dad is receptive to him being with you, which is all you can ask for. 

“Well, get along now, I wanna get back to sleep. You two were keepin’ me up,” Your dad grumbles, readjusting his frail frame to get comfortable in bed. You just nod, pointing at the door for Joel to exit. You follow suit, closing the door behind you tightly, making sure it clicks. Joel stands in the darkness of the hallway, waiting. He is in disbelief. 

You just take one of his hands and bring it to your lips, softly pressing a kiss into his knuckles. 

“Let’s go get cleaned up and take a nap,” You murmur, walking him to the end of the hallway to the bottom of the stairs. He accepts the offer, trailing behind you like a lost puppy. 

You were not sure where this was all going to end up. Neither of you did. But you could not wait to carve the way with him, bringing every last one of your daydreams to life.

THE END

or is it? I have started writing snippets to go along with this story- if you want more, here's the link:

No One Fucks With My Baby

[whatifitis]

♡ Only Us - LN 4 ♡

Summary: Lando does a little fuck up and you're stubborn but you love him anyway. Feat. Max F being annoyed with a lack of dining utensils in an airbnb

Author's Note: this was based off this request! sorry for taking so long to write something. I hope this lives up to the request <3

WC: 1633

CW: Lando being a little shit, fluff, max f cussing

“I can’t believe this expensive air bnb doesn’t have utensils.” Max says, feeling a bit frustrated as you’d all gone shopping earlier for some groceries for your time in the air bnb. However, none of you thought to get some silverware as well, “it’s an air bnb, not a fucking hotel. There should be silverware in here. For fucks sake. We’re gonna have to eat with our hands like barbarians.”

“Max, relax. We can just get some pizza or something. No need for utensils.” Pietra says, walking up to him and hugging him from behind. You were starving so you hope a consensus can be made quickly. You hadn’t eaten all day due to having to rush from one place to another and somehow, every place that you had passed and that served food had a long wait. 

You and Lando watched the scene unfold from the couch as Max tried to argue that utensils will be needed at some point and you can’t just eat pizza the whole trip. After some debates, Max clapped his hands together, “All right. We’re getting chinese because we can ask for utensils and use them for most of the trip.” 

Everyone seemed pleased with Max’s idea and so you all gathered around to list everything that was needed before someone made the call and actually placed the order. 

In true Lando fashion, the man ordered nearly 40 spring rolls… that’s your man…

The whole group gathered in the living area and played some card games while everyone waited for the food to arrive. There was a lot of betting and wins and losses. Lando somehow was the only one to be down to his underwear after losing quite a few rounds of poker. Only Lando would find himself in that predicament. 

“If the food doesn’t arrive soon, I’m gonna call and ask where the fuck it is. It’s been ages. Where the fuck is it? The guy is probably having a fat shit and the foods getting fucking cold.”

“Max, it’s been 30 minutes and it was a pretty big order. It will be fine, just sit down and have some crisps.”

“No, P I’ve got the shakes look.” Max says whilst purposefully shaking his hands in an exaggerated manner, to which Pietra rolled her eyes. 

After some time, the doorbell rang and Max just about ran to the door, tripping over the leg of a chair in the process. Once Max is back with the bags of food, he places them on the table and begins to unpack them. As he unpacks everything, his eyebrows begin to furrow with each item he takes out, “No, no, no ,no! No fucking way.”

“Mate, what’s going on?” Lando walked behind Max. 

“There’s no utensils! They forgot the fucking utensils. Oh my fuck.” Max says in defeat, throwing his hands in the air and plopping onto the seat behind him. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. You feel bad for the man, but the scene was just too funny. 

“Yeah, keep laughing as you eat your fried rice with your bare hands. I hope your fucking rice is cold as well, fucks sake.” Max threatens. The man may be small, but when he’s upset, he doesn’t hold back with the threats. 

“Max, it’s okay. We can just make some makeshift utensils.” you offer. 

“Now how are we gonna do that, Y/n.”

“Simple. Someone can use this pen, we can roll this piece of paper into a cone and someone can shovel food into their mouth-”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous… Let’s do it before I rip someone's head off.”

So now the scene is painted, everyone is sitting around the coffee table and chowing on their food with the strangest objects. Pietra was using two makeup brushes as some makeshift chopsticks whilst Max opted to use the cone shaped paper, literally shoveling food into his mouth. Lando had decided to use a pen to try and shove food into his mouth and you ended up using a lens that popped out of your glasses when Lando sat on them earlier. 

When it happened, you wanted to be upset with Lando because they were your favorite glasses and they were the only ones you had brought on this trip. But Lando quickly apologized and immediately bought you a new pair. You also couldn’t be mad because once Lando saw how upset you were, he’d said “Just because my ass is fat, doesn't mean my feelings are tough.”

“I’m so hungry, I was about to go mental.” you said as you had taken your first few bites. 

“Same.” Max said, causing you all to side eye him, “what?”

“Babe, you were already going mental.” Pietra had told him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was calm, cool, and collected.”

After everyone openly judged Max, you all carried on eating and talking. Lando decided it was a good idea to play around and when he did, he was bumping into you. You were still eating so you asked him to calm down so you could finish eating but he didn’t. He ended up knocking your lens out of your hand and it got thrown across the room, shattering onto the floor. 

You just simply sat and stared at the shattered lens. You guys were limited on things you could use to eat so now all you could do was eat with your hands. But now you were too pissed off to eat. You’d lost your appetite. You simply stood up, threw your plate out and went to bed. 

Lando followed after you and you quickly glanced at him before turning your back to him. He looked truly regretful of his actions, “Baby, I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you. You hadn’t eaten all day and I fully messed up. You can use the pen I was using. You didn’t eat much.” 

“Not now, Lan. I’m tired and I don’t wanna yell at you.”

He understood his faults and didn’t want to make everything worse. He knew you needed the space so that night, he didn’t come to bed. He decided it was probably best to spend the night on the couch and let you have the bed to yourself. 

You tossed and turned all night, missing Lando’s warm body being next to yours. He did make you upset today but it didn’t mean you wanted him to sleep on the couch. But you were too stubborn so he spent the whole night on the couch. 

In the morning, everyone was set to wake up and get ready to ski and snowboard. You decided to sleep a little longer due to the fact that you slept so little during the night. But your sleep was cut even shorter when you were startled awake from the slamming of a door. Lando had accidentally hit the bedroom door so hard, it slammed into the wall. 

As soon as Lando had realized his mistake, he, once again, looked at you apologetically and mouthed the words ‘i’m so sorry’ but you were already pissed off yet again. You decided to just get up and get ready for the day, not paying much mind to Lando as you didn’t want to explode at him. 

The whole day, you spent time with the girls and just tried to enjoy your day. When it was starting to get dark, the whole group agreed to meet at the bottom of the hill near the cafes. You made your way down on your snowboard and when you spotted Lando standing alone at the bottom, you decided to have a little payback. 

Once you were close enough, you turned your snowboard to stop and spray Lando with snow. 

“I deserved that.” Lando had said as he tried to brush off some snow.

“You did.” was all you said before you made your way to the rest of the group. 

Once everyone was back in the cabin, you all started shedding your layers and began to unwind. You were walking around the house, just tidying a bit out of boredom when you stumbled upon some mistletoe that was hanging in one of the doorways. “You know we need to kiss now because that's the rule.” you heard Lando say from behind you. He had his classic smirk plastered on his face. 

You decided to give him a quick peck, resulting in him being smiley and thinking everything was okay now. 

“Nope. Still mad.” you said as you turned to walk away. But before you could walk away, Lando had wrapped himself around you. 

“No! I’m not letting you go til you love me again.”

“Lan, let me go.”

“No”

“Lan”

“Nope”

This continued as you tried to wrestle him off but he kept his hold on you and he ended up climbing onto your back but you weren’t prepared so the two of you fell into a mess of intertwined limbs and laughter. 

After the two of you caught your breath, Lando asked “Are we okay?” with a serious look on his face. You knew he could be insecure at times in the relationship, even after little arguments and disagreements. 

“Yes, baby. We’re okay. I was just tired, I’m sorry for making you think otherwise.” 

“‘S okay. I know I kinda fucked up.”

“Yeah. But no matter the fight, I will still love you and want you. What we’ve got going is good.” you move your hand to gently tap his temple, “We can try to quiet the noises in your head.”

He lets out a soft laugh, “I never thought there’d be someone like you who could want me. But here you are. It’s you and me and that’s all that I need it to be.”

“Only us.”

“Only us.”

[imyourbratzdoll]

hiii baby 🤍

weird request maybe…

But reader being tired of dating but really wanting a baby…like she just really doesn’t want to wait for the perfect man to settle down with, but she really really really wants a baby.

So she asks childhood!bestfriend!bucky or like childhood!bestfriend!CE!Character to impregnate her…

He (being secretly in love with her) agrees, so they make one 😩

hi honey! not weird at all! I loved this, I'm hoping I did it justice and that you love it!

summary - you've decided to stop going on dates when the last one fails and go to your best friend for the thing you desperately want.

warning - smut, breeding kink, unrequited love (or not), horrible dates, creampie, swearing, slight angst.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You sigh, having just come back from yet another failed date. No man seemed to live up to the expectation you were looking for. You sagged into the couch, kicking your shoes off and beginning to massage your temples. “Ugh, I’ll never find the perfect man to settle down with…” You look down at your stomach, and your mind fills with images of you being pregnant. Your eyes blink it away as you rub your belly. “I just want a baby… Is that so hard?” 

Your eyes widen when you realise you have the perfect plan. Bucky! He’s your best friend, an ideal option for a sperm donor. You quickly dig through your purse and pull out your phone, unlocking it and quickly sending him a message. 

‘Hey, are you able to come over? I have something important to ask you.’ You send the text, gnawing on your bottom lip as you wait for his response, watching the three little dots appear. 

‘Sure, I’ll be there in 10 minutes with your favourite snacks.’ 

You smile, quickly jumping up and running to your room. You strip from the clothes you sadly wasted on your date and changed into a red lingerie set that Bucky got you for your birthday. You smirked when you remembered how flushed Bucky looked as you opened the gift bag and promised to show him one day. You walk over to the mirror and fix your make-up, reapplying your red gloss. 

When you hear the door unlock, you quickly throw on your silk robe and head out of your room, ready to greet Bucky. He enters and smiles when he sees you waiting there for him. His heart practically pounds out of his chest as you smile back at him, walking over and wrapping your arms around his body. “Hey, I got us some Chinese.” He wraps one arm around you, tightly holding the bag of food with the other. 

“You came so fast!” Your cheeks heat up at the innuendo of your words. You don’t notice the pout on his lips as you pull away from him and begin to walk toward the lounge room. “C’mon, I’d feel better asking you the thing while sitting down… I don’t really know how you’ll feel about it.” Your chew on your bottom lip, your nerves getting to you as you realise if he says no, you’ll possibly be ruining a good friendship.

Bucky follows you like a lost puppy, practically feeling your nerves radiating off of you. His eyes shamefully land on your arse, watching your hips sway as you walk before him. “So, uh… How did your date go?” This would be the tenth date this week that you’ve been on, and as your best friend, Bucky knows all about them and how lately they haven’t been going well. Except for his heart that constantly broke every time you told him you had a date with everyone but him. Bucky sits beside you, pulling out the hot food and handing you your usual. 

“Shit like the others.” You immediately begin to stuff your face with food, starving from storming off during the date. “From the moment we met, all he spoke about was himself and the women he’s been with. Then when we sat down to eat, he ordered for me, but when I stood up for myself and ordered what I wanted. He decided to call me a cow and fat and that no man would ever love me if I didn’t let them take control of my life.” You growl, shovelling more food in your mouth. You swallow and look at Bucky, noticing the angry look behind his eyes but deciding to ignore that. “But, I came to a conclusion. You know how much I’ve been wanting a baby and have been trying to find the perfect man to settle down with.”

Bucky nods before frowning. “Please don’t tell me you're going to just sleep with one of these guys to get one.” His brows furrow. “You deserve more than that. You deserve someone that will be there for you and the baby.”

You wave him off, sucking some juice off your thumb. “Of course not. I had someone better in mind.” Your eyes connect with him, and Bucky’s brows raise when he puts the pieces together. “I want you to impregnate me, Bucky.”

“Y–you–” He swallows, blinking rapidly, wondering if he heard you right.

“I want you, Bucky. Just imagine how cute our baby would be, but I understand if you say no and no longer want to be–”

“Yes.”

“B–”

“Yes.” Bucky immediately scoots closer and cups your cheeks. “I’ll pump you full until you are carrying my child.” You feel slick gather between your thighs, turned on by his words. Bucky’s hands move down and undo your robe, choking on his saliva when his eyes land on the red lingerie set he had bought you. “You’re so beautiful…” He whispers, staring for a while before looking into your eyes. “D–do you want to go slow or…” Bucky swallows, knowing that you weren’t doing this because you felt anything for him. You were doing this to get a baby.

“Fast, for now, I just need you.” You whimper. You grasp the back of Bucky’s head and pull him toward you, devouring his lips with yours. “Please, fuck a baby into me.”

Bucky catches the for-now part, causing his heart to jump, knowing there might be another time. His breath catches as your lips connect, swearing that fireworks went off. His hand lands between your legs and begins to rub you through your knickers, letting out a moan as he feels how wet you are. “D–did you touch yourself before I got here?” 

You shake your head, “No, no….” You whine, back arching and legs spreading more as he touches you. Bucky feels his cock harden more when he realises he made you wet. “Bucky, please.” You blink the tears away, so overwhelmed with your feelings for your best friend and your horniness. You hadn’t been touched in so long, and to have Bucky finally touch you with the promise of putting a baby in you intensifies it.

Bucky leans back, giving you a look. “Are you sure about this? Because once I start, I really don’t think I’ll be able to stop.” You nod rapidly, gripping any part of him that you can. He places a hand under your chin. “I need words, Y/n.” 

“Yes, Bucky. I’m sure I want this.” You watch him remove your clothes, followed by his, and you gasp as your eyes land on his member. “You’re so big…” Bucky strokes his cock, lining it with your sopping cunt. As he pushes in, Bucky leans forward and connects his lips with yours, swallowing your moans. “O–oh…” 

His hands move down and grip your hips, thrusting deep, fast and hard into your tight walls. “Fuck, you feel so good, doll.” Your legs wrap around him, pulling him closer to you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he hits deep inside you, hitting places you’ve never reached before. “I can’t wait to pump you full of my cum, doll. Breed you.” He growls, getting lost in the feel of you. 

You moan, gripping onto your best friend, feeling him split you open, bringing you pleasure you’ve never felt before. You can’t wait until he fills you with his cum, giving you what you’ve always wanted. “Faster, Bucky, please.” You don’t know how he’s done it, but you're so close you can feel your orgasm just around the corner. 

Bucky’s hips begin to snap, slamming into you hard and fast. “Shit, doll. I’m so close.” His hand slides between your bodies, locating your clit and rubbing it. Your back arches, legs squeezing tighter around him as your juices squirt out of you, your walls pulsating around his thick cock. Bucky groans, burying his face into your neck, pounding into you before burying himself deep inside you. Thick spurts of cum shoot out of his mushroom tip as he pumps you full of his cream. “Fuck, fuck! There’s so much. It feels too good, doll!”

You sag into the couch, pulling Bucky along with you, enjoying the feeling of his softening cock inside of you. He stares at you, stroking your cheek, and you smile tiredly up at him. “Thank you, Bucky. I hope this takes, if not. We will have just to keep trying.”

Bucky smiles, “I’d be happy with that.” He leans forward and presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[imnotshua]

who's your worm guy? - wjh | part 1 of 2

٠࣪⭑ pairing: wen junhui x fem reader ٠࣪⭑ summary: your final project is due far too soon and you’re stumped for ideas. that is until you pick up a part time job in the ticket booth at your local water park and you meet the most– uh– interesting employees. this includes a wen junhui, food and beverage supervisor, whose creativity sparks most when he’s hazy and slacking off. ٠࣪⭑ genre: coworkers au. smut (eventual), fluff, crack ٠࣪⭑ rating: explicit. minors do not interact, i'll block you. ٠࣪⭑ warnings: stoner junhui, drinking, swearing, possible violations of health and safety regulations ٠࣪⭑ smut contents: catch 'em at it in part 2 (posting asap) if you think i've forgotten anything please let me know so i can fix my post! ٠࣪⭑ wc: 11.3k ٠࣪⭑ a/n: thank u to my loves @100vern and @starlightkyeom who always chat with me about my silly little guys and read my shit before u see it. and thank you again to jewel who made the banner! ily both always ٠࣪⭑ written for: the carat bay collab, hosted by @camandemstudios! thank you both for letting me join in! please look out for the rest of the fics 💕

edit to add: my italics have disappeared after posting?? but it’s 1:40am so i’ll fix that tomorrow night because i’m picking up my puppy tomorrow morning 😭

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · You’re going to kill Mingyu for dropping you off a whole hour early.

“I’m going to kill Mingyu,” you complain.

“It’s not his fault he has a meeting,” murmurs Soonyoung, trying not to yawn.

“You should drive us,” you say.

“Pay for my car to be fixed and I’ll think about it.”

Soonyoung said he’d introduce you to everyone this morning, but apparently you two are the first staff on site today, save for the one elderly security guy who grumbled about unlocking the gates for you on arrival, so now it’s your job to take over the staff sign-ins. Soonyoung is sitting on your desk, legs swinging below him, and grumbling about not having had time for breakfast.

“I’m gonna waste away,” he whines. “Can I have some of your banana?”

You shovel the remaining half in your mouth and Soonyoung scowls. “Sowee.”

“Dickhead.”

You grin around the banana mush and Soonyoung pushes himself off the desk.

“I’m gonna raid the snackbar– oh no, do not look at me like that. You’re not getting a thing.”

You swallow thickly, it makes a gross sound. “We get to raid the snackbar? There’s a snackbar?”

“Are you an idiot? Of course there’s a snackbar. And officially, no we don’t get to raid it, but unofficially Junhui doesn’t care.”

“What do they have?“

“Snackbar stuff, I don’t know.” Soonyoung shrugs. “Leave me alone now, I’m leaving.”

You grab at him. “Please please please can I have something bready. I need carbs or I’ll die. I need coffee. Please Soonyoung, please.”

“Ew oh my God, get off me, freak.”

Thirty minutes later, he still isn’t back, and you’ve got your head in your arms on your desk. You’re famished. You’re wasting away. You’re–

“Hi.”

You lift your head to see there’s a blonde man outside your booth. You’re stunned, is what you are. He’s maybe the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. You blink, still sleepy, and say, “Sorry, we’re not open yet.”

He blinks comically slow. “Uh– no. I work here.”

He points to the little visor with Carat Bay’s logo printed on the front, perched atop his head. Red and white. Makes him look like a Pokemon trainer.

“Oh. What’s your name?”

“I’m Jun– Junhui.” He goes to shake your hand but stops when he seemingly remembers there’s a pane of glass separating you. Oh my God, he’s cute.

You make your eyes go big. “No fucking way, dude,” you exclaim. “That’s my name too.”

You have no words to describe his expression, but you have to work hard to keep your face straight.

“Really?”

“Really. You wanna see my birth certificate?”

His eyes narrow. “Your name isn’t Jun.”

“No, it’s Jun Junhui.” The corners of your lips twitch.

“Are you new?”

“Yup,” you say. “Started yesterday.”

It’s April, and the water park adjoining the area’s most popular resort is just opening up again for the season. The only reason you got this job is because you were bullied into it by your roommates, Soonyoung and Minghyu, who would really really like it if you didn’t go into debt this time to make your share of the rent (they never listen when you tell them that’s what your student loan is there for) and both of whom have been working here for years.

Your place is supposed to be (strictly) a student let, but Soonyoung dropped out within the first two months of university, and has since worked two jobs most of the year, and somehow fits in a lifeguarding position at Carat Bay April through October. Mingyu worked the hotel reception for a while, graduated two years ago, and now he works as the resorts’ LFTS Coordinator. Whatever that means. He’s well paid and could move into somewhere much nicer, but he says he likes the company (for some reason) and he’s saving to buy a house in a nicer part of the city, so he’ll stay so long as your landlord keeps avoiding all contact. Anyway, what’s crucial here is that they’ve forgotten what it’s like to live as a poverty stricken film student. (You’re fine, just a little broke.)

The turn of winter into spring has been marred by your lack of 1) funds, 2) social life, and 3) inspiration. You’ve got a few months before your final project is due but it’s supposed to be half done by now, and you’re struggling to find a drop of creativity. Your last attempt fell through as you were two thirds into filming thanks to your useless fuck of a partner, and you spent weeks trying to work through it by yourself before giving up entirely. There were too many plates for one person to keep spinning. Your notebooks are a mess of scratched out ideas and fragmented thoughts. It doesn’t need to be long– in fact, shorter is probably better. Quality over quantity and all that. You thumb through Mingyu’s books, love letters your grandparents wrote, Soonyoung’s softcore porn collection (why does he have them in magazine format anyway? Is he from the 80s?) and the old photographs tucked away in your parents garage for inspiration– but it doesn’t come. You had wanted something romantic, something sweet and full of feeling, but everything came to a standstill. Maybe you’re just bitter that you’ve been left to pick up the pieces of a failed start.

Maybe you’re bitter about Jiho. It was fun while it lasted, but he is precisely the reason you had your preference for crushes over relationships in the first place. It’s not your fault he slipped in during the night. It’s not that your feelings are hurt, per se. It’s more that the chance for something real wasn’t there for the taking like you’d come to think. It’s more that you’d rather have just kept it light like always, and he didn’t, and then you didn’t, and the safety net wasn’t there when you needed it. It’s something of a relief that he got himself kicked off the course when he did. You haven’t spoken since.

Back to the point– item 1 is how you end up working (just part time, you’re not as ambitious (read: insane) as your roommates) in the ticket booth at Carat Bay. You didn’t get to meet many of your coworkers yesterday, since the morning was eaten up by induction (not much to induct, you think, since all there is to do is take the money, push a few buttons, give customers their wristbands, and make sure to upsell the goggles.) and lunch was taken in a break room that was completely empty, save for a few harvest spiders and one dead wasp.

You learned quickly (from Joshua, the other ticket staff who sits across the entryway) that the shifts are long and boring, since you’ll be sitting in a single occupancy booth for four to eight hours. Apparently it’s a rush of people at opening, having barely-there interactions with most of the patrons, and they come in dribs and drabs throughout the day. Occasionally a lost kid will wander over, and you’ll get to make a call for their adult over the tannoy. Before you knew it, Mingyu was scolding Soonyoung for leaving handprints and kiss marks on your window (someone has to clean that, Soonyoung!), and it was time to go home.

“What’s your real name?” says Jun Not Junhui, leaning in through your open window to look for the name badge that you’ve forgotten to put on. He smells like your type- good weed and expensive soap.

You tell him the truth this time, since he’ll find out soon enough anyway, and he repeats it for confirmation. Twice. You roll your lips between your teeth in effort not to laugh.

“Soonyoung’s talked about you a lot,” he says, looking you over. “You don’t seem evil.”

“You should’ve seen me an hour ago,” you grin. “You run the snackbar?”

Jun blinks, surprised. “Food and Beverage Manager. Did I say that already? I didn’t feel my mouth move.”

“No,” you say. “Soonyoung mentioned you. He’s gone to the snack bar to get us breakfast.”

His eyes blow wide. Panicked, he says, “Kwon Soonyoung is in my kitchen?”

“Uh–”

“He’s using my kitchen?”

“Um–”

“Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

“Why would I say that?”

He doesn’t reply. He takes off sprinting into the park, yelling Soonyoung’s name, and as he disappears around the corner of the locker rooms, you remember that you’re supposed to check everyones’ staff ID cards. Oops.

Soonyoung walks back over a minute later, one to-go coffee stacked precariously on top of the other, and a couple of paper bags clutched in his other hand.

“I just met Jun,” you say, taking the balanced cup from him as soon as he gets to your booth. You take a sip– it tastes burned, but it’s caffeine. Anything will do.

“Yeah, I figured. I heard him screaming like a banshee and had to hide in the log flume so he didn’t see me,” he grumbles. He tosses a paper bag at you. Inside is an egg and cheese bagel. “My ass is wet.”

“You’re a lifeguard in a water park. You’re wearing board shorts. Isn’t getting wet part of the job description?”

“Not before nine AM.”

“Thought you said he didn’t mind people raiding the kitchen?” You take a bite of your bagel. It’s– uh. It’s edible.

Soonyoung smiles mischievously. “Well yeah, so long as he’s there to supervise. He doesn’t like anyone touching his precious fridge magnets.”

“He didn’t seem like a manager.”

“He’s full of surprises, that one.”

You’re interrupted by the sound of slammed car doors and a rev of the engine as it pulls away, and a moment later, in trudge a bunch of guys in a uniform similar to Soonyoung’s. White polo shirt, pink board shorts, comically small pink visor. You want one too, why haven’t you got a visor? Soonyoung wears a white shirt too, but his has ‘LIFEGUARD’ emboldened on both sides in red. You just get the white polo, three sizes too large because it was either this or one that was clearly from unsold children’s merch stock. Nothing cute in pink, or blue like Joshua.

“Who are they?”

Soonyoung points them out left to right. “Chan, mat racing. Minghao, kiddie slide. Vernon, wave pool. Seungcheol, hot springs.” You’ve heard a lot about these guys at home.

When they get to your booth and Soonyoung starts introductions, Chan hangs back a little.

“Oh my God,” he says, wide eyed. “A woman.”

You stare at him.

“Sorry about him.” Minghao grimaces as he presses his ID against your window. “He didn’t mean that in a weird way.”

“Is there a not-weird way?” you ask, tapping his name on the ipad to mark him signed in.

“There hasn’t been a woman hire in like, eight years,” explains Seungcheol, showing his ID too. “There was a little scandal with the HR guy last season. Turns out he ran some incel subreddit and it bled into his hiring practice.”

There’s a long pause while you wait for someone– anyone– to laugh. No one does.

“You’re joking?”

“He’s been sacked. Don’t worry.”

You rag a hand over your face. “You’re telling me I’m the only woman who’s worked here in nearly a decade?”

The four men stare at you. If this were a sitcom you’d be hearing crickets.

You turn on Soonyoung, who’s trying to escape out of your booth unnoticed. Too slow.

“AH! Let go!”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me that, Soonyoung?” You tighten your grip on his hair. He yelps. “Doesn’t that seem like crucial information your best friend should know before taking a job here? It does, doesn’t it?”

“I forgot, you psychopath! Best friends don’t hurt each other!”

You twist and Soonyoung falls into a squat in an effort to break free, smacking at your hand. “Men best friends tell their women best friends when they’re stepping into a testosterone fuelled snake pit.”

“Little harsh,” whistles Minghao. “The snakes are standing right here.”

“There was that one woman,” says Vernon, tongue pushed into the fat of his cheek, eyes up in thought. “The elderly one. What was her name? Jun’s cook from a few years ago?”

“The one he killed?” asks Chan.

“What?” you sputter, releasing Soonyoung, who falls backwards out the door.

“He didn’t kill her,” insists Minghao.

“She’s not even dead,” says Vernon, brow furrowed. “Jun visited her two weeks ago.”

“She had a stroke, didn’t she?” questions Seungcheol.

Minghao rolls his eyes. “It was never proven that it was Jun’s fault though.”

Is everyone working here insane?

You can hear flip flops smacking the pavement and you turn to look– Soonyoung is running away. Fearing premature hair loss, probably. You and the guys watch him go.

“He’ll suffer later,” you reassure yourself.

“So– uh– you live with Soonyoung?” asks Seungcheol. “And the events guy?”

“Events guy?”

“Mingyu,” confirms Vernon.

Events– is that what Mingyu does? What the fuck does FSHL stand for then?

“That’s me.”

“We’re not all incels,” says Chan. “We only had one.”

Everyone turns to look at him. Minghao’s mouth is hanging open and Vernon is wide eyed and tight-lipped, trying not to laugh.

“Okaaay?”

“Well. Only one that we know of,” he blurts. “Although–”

He’s cut off as Minghao elbows him hard in the ribs.

“We’ll be seeing you then!” Seungcheol smiles. “What time is your lunch?”

“Twelve–thirty.”

“Same as me,” Vernon pipes up. “Wanna meet some of us at Sharkbait?”

“Where?”

“Jun’s place–” Vernon taps the spot on the map taped to your window. “Next to the log flume. It’s where we all take our breaks.”

Explains the empty break room. You’re not sure how safe you’ll be in Jun Not Junhui’s territory, given recent revelations, but you’re curious.

“Sure, see you then.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Sharkbait is pretty small. The exterior is pastel blue, serves what can only be described as beige food, and there’s a huge plastic shark in sunglasses and bermuda shorts riding a surfboard attached to the roof. It’s nestled amongst a bunch of other themed eateries, and the tables on the veranda outside are spilling over with people. There’s a long line of people queuing, and one bored teenager behind the counter on the left. Soonyoung is at the other end of the bar, pouring himself a drink and chewing on a peperami. He waves you over when he spots you.

“Hey,” he says, as you reach the bar. “We’re friends right?”

“I guess,” you say, shrugging. It’s been eight years, you’re stuck like glue. “Why?”

“Will you settle something for us?”

“Us?” you ask, peering over the counter, because save for the kid working the till, he’s the only one there.

Soonyoung ignores your question. “Is a waffle just a grilled pancake?”

“What?” you say, leaning on the counter and unboxing your sandwich. It’s gone all soggy and gross next to your salad.

Vernon pops his head through a hatch behind Soonyoung. He’s eating a hard-boiled egg.

“Pancakes are waffles– same ingredients, same thing, right?” says Vernon.

Your eyebrows furrow. “By that logic ice cream is just frozen flavoured butter.”

“Yeah!” shouts Vernon, pointing his egg at you. “See, she gets it.”

“Pretty sure that wasn’t her getting it,” says Soonyoung. “Pretty sure she was saying butter and ice cream are distinctly different things.”

Vernon scoffs and his eyes slide over to you. “Is that what you meant?”

You shrug, too busy inspecting your wet bread, looking for a bit that isn’t mushy. Your stomach rumbles so loud that the guys stare at you quietly for a moment.

“Agree with me and I’ll get Jun to make you a grilled cheese.”

Two cheese heavy meals in a day? Your guts might complain but your mouth certainly won't. “Sold.”

“That’s bribery,” argues Soonyoung. He turns on you. “I’ll remember this, traitor.”

Vernon laughs. “Wanna come hang out back here?”

You nod, and Vernon disappears out of view. You make your way around the bar, and follow Soonyoung through the door to the kitchen.

Jun is already starting on your grilled cheese. He’s slicing the bread and offering you a smile as you walk in and copy Vernon and Soonyoung, pulling yourself up to sit on the only counter not being used for prepping food. Jun is wearing his visor backwards, and there’s flour (powdered sugar?) dusting his nose. Cute.

“Hi Jun Junhui.”

He blinks, confused. “Sorry, it’s just Jun– not Junhui.”

Oh, so he’s easy to fuck with.

“Junnot Junhui?”

He stares at you blankly. “Call me Jun.”

“I’ll try to remember,” you say, with mock-earnest. “But Junnot is pretty cemented in there now.” You rap your knuckles on your head. “Ow.”

Jun glances at Soonyoung. “Is she always like this?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, dramatically. “She’s even worse when you get to know her. Problem is she’s actually pretty useful so you end up keeping her around.”

You grin. “I’m like a bedbug.”

Vernon frowns. “What’s great about bedbugs?”

“Huh,” you say, thinking hard. He’s got a point. You click your fingers– “A rat!”

“If I found a rat in my kitchen I’d get the traps out,” says Jun flatly, and then clarifies– “The no-kill ones. I’m not a monster.”

“Type two diabetes?” offers Vernon.

Soonyoung shakes his head. “She’s not sweet enough.”

“Dandelions,” cuts in a voice behind you, making you jump. Mingyu’s face is peeking through the hatch, he looks so out of place here, in his crisp shirt and expensive blue tie. The others go a little quiet in his presence, so you wonder how often he spends time out of his office in the resort.

“For fuck’s sake,” you groan, scowling. “Could you breathe louder so we in the land of the living know you’re coming?”

“Dandelions are perfect,” Soonyoung agrees, clicking his fingers. “Annoying, everywhere-“

“Can’t get rid of them-“ Mingyu chimes in.

“Suck a dick and die, assholes.”

A wicked grin spreads across Soonyoung’s face. “Kind of ugly until the sun comes up-“

“I’m not ugly,” you say with a petulant pout. “I’m an easy eight, nine on a good hair day.”

“Ten,” says Jun quickly. You give him a thumbs up and he smiles, casting his eyes down to focus very hard on grating cheese. You’re making him your new favourite.

“We’ve seen you drunk with your head in a toilet,” says Mingyu simply. “We’ve seen you when pneumonia bit your ass so hard you didn’t shower for nearly two weeks.”

“You smelled so baaaaad, dude,” nods Soonyoung emphatically.

You pull an affronted face. “I feel like looking like shit while having a life-threatening illness shouldn’t count against me, actually.”

“Every time you coughed you almost peed yourse–”

“Key word being almost–” you interrupt, nearly yelling. You turn to face the people you met just a few hours ago to insist– “I’ve never peed myself.”

Soonyoung laughs, delighted.

“Say something nice about dandelions or I’ll cry.”

Mingyu looks up into his big empty brain to think. “Good for bees…” he trails off.

Jun cuts in- “and for making wishes on.”

“Thanks so much, guys. Way to make a girl feel good.” You roll your eyes. “What are you here for, anyway?” you say to Mingyu. “Are you keeping tabs on me?”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “No,” he says, reaching through the hatch and holding out a sheet of paper for Vernon to take. “We’ve got a crew on site in two weeks, they’re filming the ads for the summer. They’ll want to–”

“Uhh, hello?” you interject. Mingyu looks at you expectantly. “Why are you paying a film crew when you literally have an in-house filmography student?”

“No offence,” he starts gently, and he does actually look like he means it. “But this might be above your pay grade. You know this is a multi-million dollar resort, right?”

“Damn. Fair enough,” you say. You didn’t realise that, actually. You knew it was nice, sure, but Jesus Christ. “Out of curiosity, what’s the budget for the filming?”

“Just the film crew?” he asks. You nod. “Sixty thousand, ish.”

You whistle, low. “Could’ve paid my rent with that.”

Mingyu laughs in a fake way.

“I’ll keep you in mind next time,” he says. “Haven’t they given you your proper uniform yet?”

You glance down at your much too-big polo shirt. “Should I be in something different?”

“You should be in blue. White means you’re first aid trained.”

“Oh shit, yeah,” you say, eyes widening. “No one wants me doing mouth to mouth, I’d be more likely to kill them.”

Vernon cackles and kicks at Jun, who ignores him.

“Yup,” agrees Mingyu. “Call in at reception at closing and we'll get Seokmin to find you the right kit.”

You nod, and with a wave to the group, he’s gone.

“Any allergies? Is there anything you don’t like?” Jun asks.

“No allergies. But a big no to beans. Texture’s weird.”

“Got it.”

Soonyoung makes to leave, his break’s over. As the door shuts behind him, the remaining three of you settle into comfortable conversation. You ask Jun and Vernon how long they’ve worked here– five and three years respectively. Vernon grew up here, like you and Soonyoung, just a different part of the city. Tutors English via Zoom as his main job, but he works the wave pool every year just for the plot, apparently. Jun got a job here during a summer trip and never left. He works in the resort kitchen during the off-season, but he prefers it out here in the park.

“Less eyes on you,” he says, drizzling something red and sticky over your sandwich. He presses the pieces together, and moves it over to the grill.

“How ominous.”

Jun smiles but doesn’t elaborate. “You’re a film student?”

“Yeah,” you say, sighing dramatically. “Until I get kicked out for failing.”

“Why are you failing?” asks Vernon, around a mouthful of fries.

Two months, three weeks, and one day left. You have nothing, nada, zilch. Stumped for ideas, inspiration, and manpower. Fuck Jiho and his absent manpower.

“Got a project due soon that I haven’t even started– well, I did start, but then my partner got kicked out of school and it was too big to keep going by myself. So now I need something new.”

“What’s the brief?”

“We’ve got a lot of creative freedom to be honest. Fiction, non-fiction– doesn’t matter. Just needs to be between twenty and thirty minutes and have a quote-unquote nostalgic feel.”

“Sounds simple enough,” says Vernon, casually.

“Uh huh,” you deadpan. “You come up with something for me then, Mr Spielberg.”

He’s biting his lip, embarrassed, while Jun laughs, plating your grilled cheese next to a much more appealing salad.

“Order up.”

“Ooh thank you, this looks way better than what I had.”

Jun eyes the box sitting next to you. “Not a difficult challenge to beat.”

“Hm, I’m not much of a cook,” you say, pausing to take a bite. Oh God. It’s spicy and sweet and cheesy. It’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten. The best thing you’ve ever eaten from a place called Sharkbait and made by a guy who smells like weed. How tragic. “This is– uh– it’s pretty good.”

Jun scoffs. “It’s really good. They won’t let me put it on the menu though.”

“Fuck those guys,” says Vernon.

Jun smiles. “Yeah. Fuck ‘em.”

You devour your lunch in record time. Jun looks pleased with himself as he rushes out the rest of the orders coming through from out front, and Vernon says his goodbyes as he heads back to the wave pool.

And then it’s just the two of you. Jun works fast and methodically. He doesn’t talk so much as listens to you yap away, but answers a question here and there, laughs at your jokes.

“Hey, how come you’re the manager if you don’t have anyone here to like– manage?”

“It’s usually just me in the kitchen ever since Marnie had an aneurysm, and Jay out front. I can handle it until high-season, and then they’ll hire a temp to see us through.”

You mull this over. “Don’t you get lonely?”

Jun shakes his head. “Everyone comes to visit me, I could use a little more alone time, actually.”

You pout. “So I shouldn’t come back for lunch tomorrow?”

Pink creeps up his neck, and he turns to busy himself tossing the fries in seasoning. “I didn’t say that.”

“Cool,” you say. “Cause I’m gonna need one of those off-menu grilled cheeses for every single shift I pick up.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It turns out everyone who works here is a comedian and/or an idiot, as evidenced when you meet Seokmin, Front Office Manager, and the most sunshine personified dude you’ve ever met.

You turn up at the resort’s reception at closing hours, and now you know why your parents never brought you to the restaurant here for your birthday dinner all these years, because God is it expensive. It’s all marble floors, and gilded details, but in that elegant way that doesn’t throw the money in your face.

Seokmin brings you into the office and motions for you to have a seat while he calls the uniform company.

He smiles brightly as he asks them for your size, then falters.

“You only do unisex clothes?” Seokmin says into the receiver. “Don’t you do unisex for women?”

You poorly disguise your snort as a sneeze as he doesn’t appear to understand whatever the sales rep is telling him.

“Unisex is fine,” you whisper, and Seokmin smiles at you with relief.

He’s still on the phone a minute later, when Mingyu pops his head in the open door.

“Soonyoung’s got a date, I’ve had a day from hell, and you’re my only irresponsible friend,” he whispers. “Wanna come get high with me?”

“Hell yeah,” you say, jumping up as Seokmin waves you off. Wait– “Fuck you, man, who are you calling irresponsible?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Your plug’s place isn’t far, a ten minute walk at most. On the way you talk about work, you ask questions about the people you’ve met so far, but Mingyu doesn’t know them as well as he’d like. He’s always shut in the office. You ask what his job title is again, he levels you with a look, and he tells you– LTPS. Or something. He’s in charge of like, resort events and some other really boring shit like– uh– whatever, you’ve already forgotten.

Mingyu concedes he’s buying, since he has been extra snappy lately, but that’s just on account of the extra pressure that comes with the busy season. Once he’s into the swing of summer, he settles down and he’s back to his usual loveable self.

Not long later, you’re standing in Mark’s kitchen, staring at him in disbelief.

Mingyu isn’t sure either. He tugs at your hand holding the bag, sniffs, and immediately recoils. “This smells like shit, man. Don’t you have what we usually get?”

“Frosty Flurkle is so goooood, dude,” Mark insists. “My buddy grew that!”

“Tell your buddy that the people don’t want to smoke lavender and cat vomit. Not for twenty-five a gram.”

He snatches the bag out of your hands. “Well I dunno what to tell you, this is what I’ve got.” Mark puffs out his chest. “I’m his sole dealer.”

“Hmmm.” You draw out the sound. “Maybe you should have a little think about why that is.”

Mark scoffs. “Do you want it or not?”

You look at Mingyu. He looks at you. Your last dealer moved across the country, and you can’t be bothered searching out anyone else at this time of night. Might as well take one gram, you say with your eyes, see if it’s better once it’s in your system. Would be silly to go home empty handed, you assume Mingyu says with his.

“One gram,” you say. “And we’re only paying fifteen.”

“Twenty tw–”

“Sevente–“

One hour and twenty dollars later, you feel sick to your stomach, Mingyu is clutching his head, and you set a reminder to hire an Etsy witch to curse Mark’s entire bloodline. Then you order cheese fries and fall into a restless sleep before they even arrive.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Sunday is probably the worst day to be at work. Why would you pick up a shift on a Sunday when you have so many assignments to procrastinate on? Especially this Sunday, when you’re feeling the fuzzy effects of a crappy high, an empty stomach, and a bad night’s rest.

“Woah,” says Jun upon arrival. He smells much nicer than the Foisty Flumple you had last night. Good weed and nice perfume. And pretty. God, he looks amazing. On a better day you’d flirt outrageously with him, but today is one of those days where it was an effort to wash your face, let alone put on makeup. What a cruel, awful world. “You look–”

“If you don’t say some variation of stunning, beautiful, and/or captivating, Jun Junhui, I will eat you alive.”

He grins. “Ravishing.”

Your brows pinch together and a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

“Interesting choice.”

“Uh huh.” Jun rubs the back of his neck. “Hungover?”

You shake your head. “Bad high.”

“Want breakfast?” he asks. You perk up at that. Literally– your face immediately feels less grey. He laughs. “Sweet or savory?”

“Sweet please,” you say, leaning closer to the window. “Just like you.”

You’ve never seen a grown man blush harder. Cute.

He’s back a little later with an iced americano and a warm croissant, filled with raspberry jam, and dusted with sugar.

“Junnot Junhui, you’re the best,” you mumble around a bite. “I could kiss you.”

“Hahahaha,” says Jun, not casually at all. “I– uh– I’d–”

“I’m joking, Romeo.” You wipe the jam from the corner of your mouth. “Settle down, I can smell your adrenaline spiking from over here.”

“Oh, yeah I knew that,” he says, running a hand through his hair in what he must think seems nonchalant and chill. It isn’t. Your grin is akin to the Cheshire Cat.

“I don’t kiss people at work,” you say. And then, meeting his eyes, “You’ll have to take me on a date if you’d like one from me.”

Jun’s adams apple bobs in his throat.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You’re having lunch at the snackbar again, and this time it’s so rammed full with staff on their breaks, it takes Jun a little while to get around to handing over your sandwich. He goes silent when he works, only stopping to break the chaos with a sharp yell, anytime someone messes with the cat magnets on his fridge. You like watching him– his arms while he chops vegetables, the way his little muscles flex when he’s carrying a heavy box, the movement of his fingers when he’s sprinkling seasoning over a pan.

Jeonghan, who works the big slide, grins at you with sparkling eyes. You can sense his evil nature bubbling beneath that angelic facade– that’s best friend material. “You know you’re practically drooling, right?”

You pat your stomach. “Really hungry.”

“For the food or for Jun?”

You push your tongue into the fat of your cheek. “Both.”

Jun makes his way through the people crowding his station, plate held high above his head. He’s smiling lovely when he reaches you, and pushes the plate into your hands.

“Thanks, Junhui, you’re so sexy.” He’s immediately bright red, and Soonyoung throws a wet cloth at you. It smacks off your collar and drips dishwater down your shirt. “AH! Soonyoung, what the FUCK?”

“Don’t flirt with him!”

You wave at him dismissively. “I flirt with everyone.”

“You’ll corrupt my sweet, innocent, Junnot Junhui!”

Jun makes a frustrated sound. “Not you, too? How did I get this nickname?”

“You did it to yourself, sweetheart,” you say, fondly stroking his arm. It’s a feeble excuse to touch.

“You haven’t flirted with me yet,” complains Seungcheol.

You play your part and bat your eyelashes. “Oh, darling, would you like me to?”

He nods, making puppy-dog eyes and pouting. You squeeze his bicep and gasp for the drama of it. “Cheollie, have you been working out?”

Soonyoung gags, and you smirk. Jun looks down at his arms.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Despite the last experience, you are back at Mark’s. Mingyu had a particularly bad day in the office, you will do anything for the bit, and Mark has assured you that his supplier has something better.

You have your reservations, but surely nothing could be as bad as Foisty Farmyard. Surely?

It’s whatever. Mark cuts you a deal on account of your bad experience last time, and that should’ve been your first red flag. The second should’ve been that you met his supplier, Johnny, who apparently wears the jeans low enough to hang off his kneecaps and a huge, gold chain with a dollar sign unironically. But what a deal Mark cuts! Two grams for the price of one can’t be that bad.

Dear reader: it is that bad.

Mingyu greens out within ten minutes. You’re not far behind. Soonyoung comes home from his date and finds you both on the bathroom floor, rolls his eyes, and leaves you both to sort yourselves out.

In the morning, Soonyoung says that if you don’t find a witch to curse Mark, he certainly will.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

All of your new colleagues are easy to like (they’re loud, funny, sweet in their own ways), but it’s Jun who quickly becomes your favourite. Your shifts start with a sweet pastry and an iced americano, sometimes left in your booth with a note, sometimes hand delivered with a sleepy smile. You thought he was quiet, and he is, but he’s also sharp, and playful, and funny in that really cool, witty way. He shines brighter in quieter spaces, when fewer staff crowd his kitchen, and when he forgets his shyness. On the days he’s in early enough to deliver your breakfast, he’ll squeeze into your booth and take your chair while you sit on the counter, and he’ll try very hard to ignore the way you flirt with him.

You’ve been thinking about the vanilla danish he left on your desk all day, and with the way you had to skip lunch, you haven’t had a chance to thank him yet. Two minutes before your break starts is precisely when the film crew arrived on site and for some reason the office radioed through to make it your job to organise their visitor passes. There were so many of them it took up most of your break, and Joshua ended up having to bring you a neatly packaged panini from Jun to speed-eat on the floor of your booth. So with Mingyu’s meeting running over, and Soonyoung heading over to the lazy river to persuade Jihoon to come over for drinks, you rush through the park to catch Jun before he heads home.

The park is deathly quiet at this time– no patrons, no staff, no overplayed feel-good pop music playing from the speakers. From outside the snackbar looks spotless and empty, the hatch window firmly closed. It stinks, though. Jun is here, somewhere. Pushing open the door, the kitchen is just as clean as the front, but with a haze of smoke filling the room. You round the corner and find Jun laying on the floor– joint in hand, staring, unblinking, at the ceiling.

You kick his foot and he doesn’t move. “Dude, are you dead?”

“Maybe,” he chuckles. “Hey, did you know the camels in Petra have wifi?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“It’s true,” he insists, laughing so hard tears stream from his bloodshot eyes. “It’s shav– it’s shaved into their neck hair.”

You laugh. “That can’t be right.”

Jun pats the floor. “Sit with me, I wanna ask you stuff.”

You roll your lips between your teeth to stop your smile spreading further, and you sink cross-legged on the floor next to him. Jun rests his hand on your shoe, little finger tracing the edge of your sock.

“Can’t stay long, Mingyu’s driving us home,” you say, plucking the joint from his hand and taking a drag. “Holy shit, this is good. You wouldn’t believe the crap we picked up last.”

“Mhm, yeah it’s pretty nice.” Jun looks pleased with himself. “You live far?”

“That’s your question? Borrrrring.”

Jun turns to smile up at you, lazy and slow, with dark half-lidded eyes. God, he’s hot.

“No. I know where Soonyoung lives. And you live with Soonyoung.”

“You’ve been to our place?”

“Just once. You weren’t there. I’d have remembered.”

There are butterflies in your stomach. You let them swirl.

“Ask me something better, then.”

Jun stares at you. Quietly, he says, “I can’t think straight.”

His little finger brushes your ankle, pretty mouth parted, and looking like there are too many thoughts behind his eyes. Can’t sort through them, probably, on account of the weed fogging his brain, but it’s nicer to imagine it’s because of you. The silence hangs, so quiet you can almost hear the cogs turning.

You take another drag before offering up the joint above his mouth– your fingers brush his lips as you place the joint between them as he takes a hit. The softness of them is really fucking with you. Boys' lips shouldn’t be that soft. You should ask him what lip balm he uses.

It’s like this, quiet, and soft, and hazy for a little while, the joint getting shorter and shorter as you pass it back and forth. Your body goes liquid and heavy and Jun laughs along with you when you get the giggles over the feeling of his lips brushing your fingertips again. Feels weirdly intimate for sitting on the floor of an industrial kitchen.

“Question.”

“Hit me.”

“Have you–” A long pause. If he weren't looking directly at you you’d think he’d fallen asleep. “You ever been to the Galapagos Islands?”

“Uh,” you cough. “No.”

“Damn. I wanna know what the big heads feel like.”

“Probably really hard.”

Jun chews on his lip. “Yeah.”

Your phone is ringing. Feels like a million miles away. Mingyu’s name is on the screen, and you know you need to answer, but you’re high as shit and he’ll only give you grief for smoking at work. Something something unprofessional. Something something irresponsible. Something something hypocritical. You don’t want to hear it. You let it ring off, wait for a moment, and send him a text.

Me: hanging out with jun. i’ll get the bus

Gyu: You sure?

Me: yeah, won’t be long <3

Before you forget you look up the time for the bus– there aren’t many at this time of day– and set an alarm so you’ll make it to the bus stop in time.

Gyu: Be good. Don’t kill the guy

Me: would never kill the guy i have a big fat crush on

Gyu: 🙄 you have big fat crushes on everyone

“I’ve got one,” you say, leaning back against the dishwasher. Jun turns on his side to look at you properly. “What did you wanna be when you were a kid?”

The corners of his lips twitch. “Promise not to laugh at me?” You smile and shake your head, you’d never promise such a thing. Jun laughs, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. “I wanted– oh God. I wanted to be Jackie Chan.”

“An actor?”

“No, like actually him.” Jun is the first to start laughing, full body shakes, his hands fly up to cover his face, and you’re near silent with laughter just watching him. It’s not even that funny, but he is. “I wanted– I wanted to like.. morph into his body or something. I wanted become actual Jackie Chan.”

The silence you fall into is easy. There’s nothing left to smoke and the feeling sets in, a soft buzz in your body, heavy arms, heavy eyes. This is so nice.

“Got ‘nother one,” Jun says, after a little while. “What was your project about? The one you dropped.”

It’s hard to explain. “S’about how, like– like how crushes are better than the real thing, y’know?” Just looking at him, you can tell he doesn’t get it. “Like when you get a crush, and it’s fuzzy and silly and exciting, and everything about them feels electric. And you think they’re the best person you’ve ever met, and your stomach is in knots wondering what they think about you. And your imagination runs wild wondering how they like to kiss.”

Jun is staring at your lips. Your breath hitches. There are flashes of Jiho in your mind’s eye. It’s not like you loved him or anything, it was just turning into something a little more than like. Him in the morning, sleepy and soft, texting other girls. Him fresh out of the shower– water in his hair and running down his neck, snapping a selfie in the mirror to use on Tinder– then slipping back into bed just to get annoyed that he couldn’t make you come. More likely that you wouldn’t fake it for him. Whatever. A ‘red-flag’, your friends had called him. It’s okay. A walking reminder of why crushes reign supreme. It’s really okay, you weren’t in deep enough for it to matter.

“But six months later it’s real, and you can touch, but they don’t get you off like you’d hoped, you know? And you don’t like the way they kiss as much as you did in your imagination. And they don’t always say the right thing. They’re always competing with the imaginary version you made up of them, and you’re fighting something invisible to be seen as enough.”

“You keep saying ‘you know’,” he says carefully. “But this sounds like a unique experience.”

The silence hangs between you.

“Was it about you? You prefer limerence over the real thing?”

Yes and no. It’s not that you prefer limerence as such, but nothing you’ve experienced yet has been better than the feeling of almost. If the real thing ever lived up to the make believe in your head you’d snatch it up in a heartbeat. The trouble is that it feels rare, only meant for a few and not the many.

“Crushes are easier to come by,” you say. “It isn’t like that for you?”

Jun shakes his head. “I hardly ever like anyone. No projections when I do, though.”

You gawk at him. “Wah, what a life. What’s that like?”

“Pretty good,” Jun says, smile spreading crooked across his lovely face. His hand isn’t draped across your ankle anymore, it rests by his side on the tile floor, and you miss the weight of it. “Easier than whatever the fuck you’re doing. Your way would give me anxiety.”

You nudge him in the side. “Oh, is your way going well for you, then?”

Jun stretches his arms out, pushes himself up to sit, and says, “I’m still single; so not that well, no.”

Your alarm goes off, and when you say you’ve got to get going, he almost looks a little disappointed. You push yourself off the ground and turn.

“Are my shorts covered in dirt?”

Jun eyes you with suspicion. “Are you trying to get me to look at your ass?”

“Obviously.” You peek at him over your shoulder. “Is it working?”

“You’re not slick,” Jun scoffs lightly, and tips his head back against the cupboard, exposing the long line of his neck. It’d be nice to kiss him there. You pout at him, make moments like these light so you can play pretend in this crush a little longer. He laughs, and his eyes flicker down. “Dust yourself off a little– there, now you’re good.”

“Thanks, pal.”

“You’re welcome, amigo.”

“See you later, alligator.”

“In a while, crocodile.”

“Wait–” Jun grabs your wrist on your way out. The tips of his ears are tinged red. “Gimme your number. In case– y’know, in case you can’t find any good shit again.”

God, he’s cute.

Later, when you get home and find yourself raiding all the snacks in the cupboard, Mingyu catches you in the act, immediately clocks your bloodshot eyes and the stench of weed, and chews you out on the spot for 1) getting stoned in the workplace, and 2) not sharing the good stuff with him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“I met Weird Al Yankovic once,” Jun says, when you ask if he’s ever met any celebrities. “We made eye contact through the hatch and told me to be careful not to chop a finger off. That’s probably when my fear of knives kicked in.”

“Dude, I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you’re like the strangest person I’ve ever known.”

Jun plucks the joint from your lips and puts it to his own. You like when he does that. When the smallest brush of skin can be felt all over.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Getting stoned with Jun after work is fast becoming a semi-regular thing. Never anywhere but his kitchen, never organised but it becomes expected. At lunch, if he’s planning on staying late, he’ll ask if you’re riding with Mingyu or getting the bus, and that’s the decider. Sometimes Vernon is there, sometimes Seungcheol.

After the third session you start offering to buy, because you’re smoking all his shit and it seems unfair that you’re probably putting his kitchen at a deficit too. Jun waves you off. He likes to do things for people, apparently. After the sixth, you start asking who his dealer is (mostly on account of Mingyu, who is vehemently against getting dummy high at work, but is just as bitter he’s been left with Mark With The Bad Stash as a supplier.) but Jun won’t say. No amount of flirting will make him fold.

Trading ridiculous questions on the floor of Sharkbait’s kitchen is becoming a semi-regular thing too. The questions are silly, always surface level, could be one of those scripted five minute mock-interviews you see online sometimes, and you know it’s because you hardly know each other to ask the real stuff yet, but you like it. It’s easy. It’s simple.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Mingyu is positively grey when you get home from visiting your parents on Thursday evening.

“Do not tell me you went to fuckass Mark again?”

“I went to fuckass Mark,” he wails.

“Whyyyyyyy, Mingyu? Why fuckass Mark?” You start to shake his shoulders but stop short when it looks like he’s about to empty his stomach over your shoes. “Get yourself to bed.”

“Can’t,” he says, ashen face knotted up into a frown. “You’re gonna have to take me.”

“You’re the size of an ostrich, Mingyu, be serious.”

“I’m not an ostrich,” he cries. “Please please please help me.”

Jesus Christ. “You’re a baby.”

He pouts. “A sick baby.”

“Soonyoung—” you yell down the hall. “Come help me drag the baby to bed!”

“Will you curse him this time?”

“Soonyoung? Did he melt a chopping board on the stove again?”

“No,” says Mingyu, screwing his eyes shut. “Mark.”

“Sure, why not.”

Finding the right kind of Etsy witch proves difficult. It’s not the scams you care about as such, but more so one that isn’t too scary looking. You don’t actually want anything serious to happen to Mark, you’ll settle for something like a bad case of halitosis– but all of these Bad Luck spell reviews cite awful occurrences that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy, let alone some doofus who overcharged you for shitty weed.

You’re sitting on the floor of your apartment, freshly showered and drinking leftover wine, while Soonyoung lays across the sofa and peers at your laptop screen over your shoulder. You’re waiting on your food to arrive before starting your show, and figured you’d better find a witch sooner rather than later.

“What about this one?” says Soonyoung, pointing at a listing.

“You want me to buy a curse from someone called LadyEviliansCoven?” you say, incredulous. “The one who literally has Evil Ian in her name?”

Your phone goes off.

Jun: Will you be my guinea pig tomorrow?

Me: depends. what’ve you got in mind for me ;)

Jun: Lol. It’s a surprise.

Me: okaaaaaaay fine

Me: just so long as it’s not cheese again, i fear i’m going to turn into a block of cheddar

Soonyoung reads over your shoulder. “You’re talking to Jun?”

“Yeah, we swapped numbers last week.”

Jun: I like cheddar :)

Me: omg you’re so smooth :)

Soonyoung tuts.

“What’s with you lately,” you ask. “Why are you being so weird?”

He sighs heavy. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way–” and it immediately gets your back up because he’s about to say something offensive and– “but could you not be a– um– a flirt at work?”

You spin around to pull a face at him. “I thought you were going to call me a whore for a second.”

Soonyoung smirks. “I considered it.”

“I’m not flirting with everyone.” Not seriously, anyway. Soonyoung levels you with a look. “I’m not.”

Jun: Wanna come get high with me? I have better shit than your weed guy.

“All I’m saying is don’t toy with Jun for the bit. He’s too soft-hearted.” It’s so rare that Soonyoung goes serious that it’s hard to counter it. He’s right. You have a tendency to take a joke too far, to flirt your way into and out of too many crushes. People get attached quicker than you do and it’s easy to forget when you move like the wind. Maybe it’s the other way around? Move like the wind so it’s easier to forget.

Me: can’t, sorry. it’s gilmore girls night. raincheck?

Jun: I’ll hold you to it :)

“She’s so fucking hot,” drools Soonyoung, reaching across your shoulder to jab at your screen. “Pick her.”

You scoff. “Who chooses an Etsy witch based on her level of hotness–” You stop short as you peer closer to inspect the sellers’ profile picture. “Soonyoung, that’s an AI photo, you fucking imbecile.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Sharkbait has been off limits for the last three days for recording. Mingyu said on no account can Jun or anyone else (i.e. you) get high in there until filming has wrapped, and you’re quietly convinced it’s because he wants to be invited to your smoke sessions. You don’t blame him.

This is how you end up sitting on the living room floor with everything feeling pink and golden, and off balance in that really cool, roller coaster moving in slow motion type of way. Mingyu is laying face down on the sofa, fast asleep and drooling. The bowl lays as spent as him on the table, embers fading out. Vernon and Soonyoung are chatting away and you can hardly focus on the words. Jun catches your eye, and he makes this funny expression like he’s making fun of you, and though you’re not quite following it makes you laugh anyway.

You’ve become hyper-aware of his body next to you. The long line of his legs, how he stretches out like a cat, and how you could fit your finger between the part in his lips. Soonyoung is saying something about how hungry he is, and you are too but you can’t get up from the floor as fast as Jun.

“Come help me,” Jun says. “Show me around your kitchen.”

“Ughhhhh,” you groan. But he’s pulling you up by the wrist and you’re thinking how unfair it is that someone so wiry is as strong as he is. Not just unfair but hot. Crushes are evil, you think. He’s tugging you into the kitchen by the hand, and it’s all clammy and warm but not so bad you want to let go.

You’re too high to be of much help, but you direct Jun to where you keep whatever he asks for, hold the ingredients he pulls from the fridge, chop whatever he tells you to chop, and stir whatever he tells you to stir.

“That’s a lot of garlic,” you muse.

“Yeah,” says Jun. “I know how to party.”

You’re not much of a cook, but Jun is, and he’s here with his soft voice and his soft heart, and very occasional soft touches keeping you steady. He doesn’t look at you often, but when he does his smile near breaks his face. God, it’s so nice.

Time moves strange and fluid, and the laughter from your friends filters faintly down the hallway. They sound so much further away. And then Jun is in front of you, holding a spoon up to your lips and telling you to open wide. Hard not to hear the implication behind the words, hard not to look him in the eye as you open your mouth for him and take what he offers. You’re too high for this.

There are butterflies in your stomach, in your eyes, in your mouth. You let them fly.

You swallow, thick. Lick your upper lip, slow. Under his breath, Jun swears.

“This is so good, I’d let it get me pregnant.”

Jun startles. “Uh– I’m not ready to be a dad.”

“The food, Junhui.”

A long pause. Jun stares. “Right. Hahaha.”

Mingyu is in the doorway, white-knuckling the frame. “OhmyfuckingGod, guys,” he says. “I got this vision you were kissing. I think I’m telescopic.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Monday morning rolls around far too quickly and you’re wondering who decided an eight o’clock lecture would be appropriate for the start of the week. Professor Lee talks of how the progress of technology affects aesthetics in her usual soft way of speaking, and you make an attempt at concentrating enough to take notes while ignoring the incessant buzzing in your pocket. At the end of the session, Professor Lee calls your name as you’re packing up your bag. Your friends hang back, but knowing the line for coffee will be miles long if they don’t hustle you tell them not to wait and to grab you a coffee, and you make your way to the front.

Professor Lee greets you warmly. She’s felt sorry for you ever since Jiho left you in the lurch. When it all came to light she’d tried to get you to join another group, but your peers were so far into their projects you’d only disrupt their rhythm if they had to find something for you to do, and your contribution would be next to nothing. You’ve never liked being a burden, but with the deadline edging closer you’re starting to regret not taking Professor Lee’s advice.

“I wanted to check in with you,” she says gently. Bless her. “How’s your assignment coming along?”

One month, two weeks, and five days left. You still have nothing, nada, zilch. Unfortunately, your first instinct is to lie out of your arsehole.

“Good, thank you!” you say brightly.

“I didn’t see your name on the equipment rentals list?”

Fuck. Fucking shitballs.

“Oh, that’s because I’m filming on my dad’s Super 8.” Shit shit shit shit. He does have a Super 8 but there’s not a chance in hell he’ll let you use enough film to make up twenty minutes worth of footage. “Thought it’d give it that authentic nostalgic feel.”

Professor Lee’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. “Super 8? Audio film is hard to get hold of these days. What are you doing for sound?”

“Tascam. I’ll edit it together in post.”

“Are you having someone slate for you? It’s tricky to sync if you don’t.”

“Yeah, one of my friends.”

This lie is already getting too big. You have no time– since for all the days you’re not in lectures, you’re at work, and it’s not like there’s anything to film there. People on animal floaties bobbing down the lazy river? Bored lifeguards messing around by the wave pool? Jun, high as fuck, making you sandwiches and pretending not to have a big fat crush on you and pointedly ignoring how you flirt with him?

Wait.

Wait.

It’s a moment not unlike all those old cartoons, in which the light bulb flashes above the characters head.

“I’ve got to say– I’m really concerned you’ve bitten off more than you can chew,” Professor Lee says, her voice low and serious. But you’re not paying it mind, because now– now you finally have an idea. And the guys will help, they’re all born entertainers. The trouble will be convincing your dad. The trouble will also be not telling Mingyu and convincing Soonyoung to not give the game away.

“I’m okay, really.”

Professor Lee is unconvinced, but you’re resolute now. You can turn this around.

Out in the hallway, you pull out your phone to see a slew of messages.

Gyu: I need your help

Gyu: I’m FUCKED

Gyu: I also need to get catastrophically drunk and/or stoned tonight, please beg Jun to give up his dealer because I sure as shit am not going back to motherfucking Mark

Jun: guinea pig duties tomorrow? new pancake recipe

Gyu: I’m so fucked CALL ME

Soonsoon: u will never guess what’s happened

Gyu: Never forgetting that you abandoned me in my time of need

Gyu: If I pay you a lot of money will you call me????

Soonsoon: btw mingyu’s about to have a heart attack please call him so he stops crying

Gyu: I think I’m dying, please make sure my family know it was your fault

You call Mingyu back. It’s hard to hear through all the tears and the wailing but eventually Soonyoung snatches the phone from his hand and walks you through the drama of the day. The long and short of it is Mingyu has been scammed out of fifty percent of the filming allowance, a whole thirty-thousand dollars and the biggest budget he’s been tasked with managing so far. The film crew has disappeared into thin air. The deadline for rolling out the summer ad is looming over his head, and now he’s begging you to help him fix it before he loses face, and/or his job.

Well.

Shit.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Okay. The plan is you’ve got the green light for a mockumentary, of sorts– in exchange for a thirty-second ad for television. And you’re being paid. Not the same amount as the scammy crew, of course, but way more than you could’ve hoped for as a filmography student. Sure, you’re good, but this is unheard of. Unbelievable. You’re taking it as a compliment, even though Mingyu was unnecessarily clear about only asking you because it’s too late in the game to ask anyone else.

Truth be told, you had no idea Mingyu had so much power. He’s talked your manager into giving you a half shift off ticket booth duty until filming is complete, and wrangled you an intern from the office to assist.

Seungkwan the intern is apparently grateful to be ‘let out of the dungeon’ and although he doesn’t have the first clue about what he’ll be doing for you, he’s a quick learner and very eager to avoid hot desking and spending his day fetching coffee. You’ve roped in a bunch of your coworkers to act as your characters. Some extreme version of themselves will do, you’d said, but some of them want to bring something new to the table. Seokmin in particular was rather excited.

You’ve settled on using Super 8 for both projects. You figure you could recycle some of the footage if necessary, and it saves switching between two different styles and sets of equipment. With the payment Mingyu has approved for you, you can afford to buy your own film instead of attempting to persuade your dad to use his, so for all intents and purposes– it’s all systems go.

Except it’s closing hours, and tomorrow will be your first half-day of filming, and you’re laying down in the log flume, not knowing where you’ll start. This is where Jun finds you, legs flopped over the edge of the plastic log, picking at your cuticles and fretting over the enormity of the work you have before you.

“Bad day?” he says. He’s wearing his visor backwards, hair falling in his soft eyes, looking like sugar and all things nice.

“Weird day.” You heave a sigh. “I think I’m not good enough for this.” Jun doesn’t reply, just waits for you to carry on. How could he know what you’re good for? “I think I peaked when I was fourteen, and now it’s all downhill.”

“Fourteen was a nightmare for me, who peaks at that age?” says an unconvinced Jun.

“I could do, like, fuckloads of backflips. Like ten.”

Jun’s eyes bug out. “In a row?”

“Yeah.”

“Woah,” says Jun, under his breath. “So does that make you up-down dizzy instead of circle dizzy?”

You furrow your brow. “I never really thought about it.”

“This isn’t helping?”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “Not at all.”

“Wanna come over and I’ll make you dinner?”

It takes all of 0.3 seconds to mull it over. “Yeah, okay,” you say, stretching out an arm for Jun to pull you up from the log. He wraps his long fingers around your wrist and tugs, setting you on your feet, and as you start to walk he slings his arm, familiar and friendly, to rest across your shoulders.

“Can we have literally anything that isn’t cheese based?”

Jun sucks air between his teeth. “Well– I had planned on lasagne.”

“Jun, please no,” you beg, clutching at his waist. “My heart is two grams of saturated fat away from sending in its resignation letter.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

His place is bigger than you expected. But whatever, his finances aren’t your business. Much bigger than you’d thought would be manageable for a guy on a cook’s salary. He gives you the tour. There’s three bedrooms. Two of which are devoid of any character, and his, which is full of it. Very him.

“Are your roommates at work?”

“I don’t have any,” he says. “Just me.”

Oh. His finances aren’t your business.

“I like your cat painting,” you say, pointing to the wiry black kitten sitting in a bodega fridge, hanging above his bedside table.

“Thanks,” he says.

He shows you out the bedroom and back downstairs, for quote unquote the rest– there’s more?

There is more. In the entryway is a door you’d assumed a cupboard, but no– it leads downstairs through to a fucking cinema room.

“Dude are you, like, rich?”

Jun laughs, rubs the back of his neck, goes a little red. Very cute.

“This place belonged to my uncle.”

“Woah,” you marvel. “All I ever inherited was the foot in mouth gene and my granddad’s Hi-Fi system.”

“What’s that?”

“Exactly.”

Much like at Sharkbait, you sit on the counter and yap while Jun cooks. He makes hot pot (thank god, because your body has been crying out for vegetables for too long) and keeps having you taste the stock, and when it’s finally done, he asks you to choose something to drink– “beer, wine, liquor, choose whatever,” he says. “It’s all there.”

You chew on the corner of your mouth as you stare at the selection. There’s too much of it and everything looks expensive. The wine bottles have real corks, for Christ’s sake. It’s starting to feel like you’ve been standing there too long, confirmed when Jun comes to stand beside you and asks if you like red. You do, so he picks up something with a worn label. Pomerol, or something. 1952.

“Do you collect this stuff?” you ask, as Jun pours two glasses, and slides one over to you.

Jun laughs for real this time.

“Nah, it was my uncle’s hobby,” he says. “Feels weird to get rid of it.”

“I’m so sorry,” you say softly, resting your hand on his arm.

Jun blinks at you, confused. You take a sip of wine. It tastes old.

“Were you close?”

“Oh– no, he’s not dead. He’s in prison for tax fraud.”

You nearly choke.

Jun slaps your back so hard you’re sure it’ll leave prints that’ll last long enough for Soonyoung to drag you for, and when you finally get your breath back you leap into scolding him.

“Why’d you make it sound like he died?”

Jun gapes. “Hey, you just assume! I didn’t make it sound like anything!”

“You should’ve led with the prison thing, fucknut! People get the wrong idea.”

Jun’s lips twitch. “You’re right, I should introduce myself like that,” he scoffs. “Hi, I’m Jun– by the way, my uncle is a felon and I live in his obnoxiously large house.”

You laugh. “Solid intro.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, rolling his eyes but he’s smiling. “Want me to top up your glass.”

“Fuck no, it tastes like shit.”

“Oh, thank God. I hate it too.”

“Have you got anything stronger?”

Jun grins like the devil.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Your head is throbbing. So sick to your stomach that you can’t stand the smell of the breakfast sandwich Jun had slipped into your bag this morning, before you’d run out the door to get to work early. But now Soonyoung is here being a bother– initially concerned but now delighted.

“Where’d you sleep last night?” he sing-songs.

“Fuck off.”

“Not Jun’s place, surely?” He’s putting on his gross cutesy voice.

“Fuck off, Soonyoung.”

“Did you get dicked down?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Oooooh! You wanna tell me the dirty details so bad!”

“I wanna ram this fucking boom mic up your asshole,” you snap, waving it at him menacingly, and it’s enough to make Soonyoung to take a step back and cover his backside with his hands.

“I hate when you’re hungover,” he mutters. “You’re mean.”

“You and me both, sunshine,” you grumble. “But you’re annoying.”

“Yup,” he says. “Can I have your breakfast? I didn’t eat yet.”

“Go nuts.”

Soonyoung inhales your food, and it doesn’t do much to settle your stomach. Seungkwan, Seokmin, Mingyu, Joshua, and Chan show up– and you try very hard to concentrate on explaining the shots you want for the advert. A walk-through of the entrance, Joshua handing over their tickets, and following them walking into the park. And later, when it’s busier with actual customers, focusing on them on the rides, eating lunch, hanging out on the lazy river. Splashes of water from the slides, etcetera etcetera. Some of this might do for an intro to your mockumentary, too.

You ready the camera, Seungkwan stands there waiting with the slate, Soonyoung is on mic duty, the others are in their positions.

And you try to focus, you really do, but your mind just keeps slipping back to last night– going over the conversations you had on the floor of Jun’s living room, after a bottle of something you can’t begin to pronounce and the shittiest rolled joint you’ve had since you were a teenager. You’d played twenty questions, Jun hesitated, and like an idiot you pushed.

“I really wanted to ask if you flirt with me ‘cause you like me or if it’s the same for everyone.” He sucked in a breath. “But I chickened out. Don’t wanna have my dreams crushed yet.”

“Uh-huh,” you’d said, as you passed the joint back to him. His fingers brushed yours. “Ask me again when you wanna know.”

You’re chicken too.

“Sound?”

Soonyoung nods.

“Camera rolling.”

Seungkwan claps the slate.

“Action.”

[kimberly-spirits13]

I'm Too Pretty For This

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Word Count: 1995

Summary: After endless flirting while burning some bones of a disgruntled store clerk, you and Dean come to the realization that his flirting isn't a joke

Warnings: Unedited work, a tad bit of strong language, burning a body in it's grave

                  “Why did we agree to dig out the rotting store clerk?” You groaned, digging your shovel into more dirt. 

                  “Because we’re idjits.” Dean answered while popping his knuckles.

                  “Next time someone has to burn a body, it’s going to be Sam.” You started stomping down on the spot you reckoned would be a head, hoping to break into something, “This has got to be six feet.” 

                  “It’s getting to my head, so I’m gonna say we’re getting close.” Dean looked up, gauging how low you two had dug now.

                  “I love that you’re the human measuring stick for graves.” You laughed, “Only we would need someone for that purpose.” 

                  “What can I say sweetheart, I’m a useful guy.” 

                  You blushed seeing the lopsided smirk he gave you. Luckily it was too dark for him to see the flush on your cheeks. A dull crack sounded loudly after you started digging again in the pit and you sighed in relief.

                  “Finally!” You threw your head back, “I’m so fucking tired. Let’s light this bastard up.” 

                  Dean started digging out the lid of the coffin so that you could access the body inside. After making sure that there was plenty of space, the two of you threw your shovels out of the pit and started working to climb up. 

                  “You first.” He said, “I’ll hoist you up.”

                  “Why thank you.” You smiled, placing your foot on his hand and grabbing the ledge of the pit.

                  “Anything up there?” Dean looked up at you, locking eyes with you when you looked down and shook your head.

                  “All clear.” You answered.

                  You groaned pulling yourself up, crawling against the ground to leverage yourself. There was dirt all over you and grass stains on your jeans. The ground was wet with evening mist, and you were tired and uncomfortable. Usually, you’d be able to climb out of these holes with little effort, but tonight your muscles were tense and bruised, and you just wanted to sleep. With all your effort, you dug your hand into the ground and lifted yourself fully out. 

                  “Shit!” you flinched.

                  “Y/N, what’s wrong?” Dean yelled up in a panicked voice, “Y/N!”

                  “I broke my nail.” You looked down back into the pit, shaking your hand like you were trying to shake the pain off. 

You pouted and kicked some dirt back into the pit away from Dean, “I’m too pretty for this.” 

“Can’t argue with that sweetheart.” Dean pulled himself out of the pit and reached for your hand. With a bit too much effort, you hauled him up and he came crashing into you. 

The soft ground cushioned your fall and you landed with a thud. Dean was laying on top of you, quickly pushing himself up on his elbows.

“This is not how I imagined you being under me Y/N/N.” He grinned at you; bright green eyes somehow not being dimmed by the dark night. 

You stuttered a response before shifting to get up, “Get off me doofus” 

Your skin felt prickly when you stood up and a chill ran down your spine despite how hot your cheeks were. It was just now that you registered what he said before he fell on you on top of what he just said. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear Dean calling for you from a few feet away.

“Earth to Y/N.” You heard.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Whatcha need?” You headed over and started digging through the duffel bag, pulling out the lighter fluid and matches.

“Besides you sweetheart, the lighter fluid.” 

You tossed him the lighter fluid and held the matches in your hand. The sound of running liquid splashing on the ground gurgled into the pit as you watched Dean spill the contents of it around the casket. 

“M’lady. Would you like to do the honors?” He gestured towards the hole in the ground as you stepped up with matches in hand.

“Why of course.” You swiped the match over the lightning strip of the matchbox and watched it ignite. 

A loud “woosh” swept through the dark, lighting the surrounding area in flickering orange light. Heat emanated from the fire, warming up your cold face. You looked into the deep pit and watched as the wood of the casket charred and burned away into ash. Wordlessly, you put your hands out in front of you and started warming them over the fire.

“That’s pretty metal.” Dean jokingly chided.

“Don’t act like you haven’t done it before.” You laughed.

“Warm my hands over a human barbeque?” “Yea, I totally have.”

“It’s effective isn’t it!” You laughed harder, dropping your hands back to your sides when you were satisfied.

“You’re not wrong.” “Alright, I’m famished.” 

“I appreciate that even though we just unearthed and burned a corpse to a crisp, you still want food.” The two of you packed up and started walking towards Baby.

“I’m always hungry.” Dean said honestly.

You threw the duffle into the trunk climbed into the passenger seat as Dean shut the trunk door and slid into the driver’s seat. 

“Should we call Sam and ask what he wants?” You asked, stretching against the seat.

“No, he said he wanted to grab some protein shake from that hippie store next to the motel. Food’s on us.” “I say we just go to that diner we passed on the way here.” Dean yawned, starting the engine and turning his head to look at you.

Suddenly, a burst of bravery came over you, “Sure. If it’s a date.”

You saw Dean ride through the emotions of the comment and begin to process what you had suggested.

“A date?” He said, a red strain spreading across his cheeks.

“Don’t get dumb with me, Winchester. Was all that flirting a joke?” Fear replaced the boldness you previously had, and you sank back into the seat, waiting for him to uncomfortable say that it was all just his sense of humor.

“No, no! It wasn’t a joke.” Dean noticed the change in your demeanor and grabbed your hand, causing you to sit back up, “I thought you didn’t feel any way about it.” “Seriously, you’re confusing me, woman. Every time I got close to flirting you brushed it off.”

“I thought you were kidding!” You exclaimed, “You do that to everyone!” 

“I don’t mean it with them though! I only mean it with you.” Dean answered with the same level of astonishment.

“You’re so stupid Dean Winchester.” You started laughing at him, “You know when you’re flirting with everyone, you aren’t very clear on any sort of signals, right?” 

“I mean I guess.” He scratched the back of his head and looked forward awkwardly, “I didn’t think about that.”

“You’re probably the smoothest guy I’ve ever met, and you didn’t know?” You started laughing harder.

“Hey, I’m not the one who warms their hands up over a fire!” 

“That has nothing to do with this!”

“Fine! Fine!” Dean turned away and wiped a hand over his face before turning back around in all seriousness, “Y/N. Do you want to go on a date with me?”

You threw your hand over your mouth and stifled a laugh at his sudden seriousness.

“Come on Y/N, you’re making this difficult.” he whined.

“Yes, yes, I’ll go on a date with you.” 

Dean smiled, his eyes lighting up at the same time, “Well then, we should be off.”

You arrived at the diner and became consumed in conversation and greasy food. The older waitress joked about your obviously budding romance, causing not only you, but Dean to openly blush bright red. After a few friendly quick remarks about your relationship to the friendly waitress and a good tip, you grabbed a pie to go and started the drive back to the motel. 

A small beam of light glistened through the window, indicating that Sam was still awake. 

“Thanks for dinner.” You said, giving Dean a quick kiss on the cheek and starting to walk towards the door.

“Uh uh.” Dean grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him before wrapping his arm around you and pulling you to his chest, “You missed.” 

Dean leaned in for a kiss and your knees went weak. Your eyes fluttered closed and you felt your heart rate spike. You were pretty sure that this was the moment you’d die, but you’d die happy knowing you got to kiss Dean Winchester. When it became too much and you needed to breathe, you pulled away and looked up to see Dean staring back down at you. His eyes shined in the parking lot light and his gaze was intense.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered sincerely.

“You’re pretty good to look at yourself.” 

Dean laughed through his nose quietly, “Wanna head inside?” 

You nodded and he pulled you alongside him, opening the door and walking inside.

Sam was sitting on his bed, reading something on his laptop. He looked up and raised a brow, “You two look suspicious.”

“No, we don’t.” You and Dean shot back at the same time before awkwardly looking in different directions, realizing what you just did.

“Sure.” Sam said exasperatedly, “Did you burn the bones?” 

“Yep. The bastard’s toast.” Dean answered, sitting down on his bed. 

You sat down next to him, leaving enough space to seem inconspicuous in your mind.

“Next time, you’re digging the pit.” You groaned, trying to rub the exhaustion away. You stood up and sighed, “Okay. I’m going to go back to my room and shower. I’ll see you two in the morning.” 

“See ya.” Sam said, throwing up his hand in a wave.

You looked at Dean before leaving the room and caught the wink he gave you, rolling your eyes as you closed the door behind you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The door shut and Sam closed his laptop loudly, snapping Dean out of the trance he was in, staring at the door you just closed.

“You kissed or something, didn’t you.” Sam said, giving Dean a look.

“That’s none of your business.” Dean answered standing up and heading for the bathroom, “I’m going to drown myself. When I get out, we’re hitting the sack.” 

“Dean. I’ve known you this long. Did you finally tell her?” Sam crossed his arms, watching Dean come back out of the room.

“Yea.” He gave Sam a lopsided toothy grin.

“And she feels the same?” 

“Yea.” 

Sam rolled his eyes, “Took you long enough.”

“You can’t rush perfection Sammy!” 

“No, but you can kill the rest of us with suspense.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

                  After your shower, you got out and changed into your pajamas. It was cold in your room, but the motel came equipped with extra blankets. You walked over towards the bed and started to climb in when you heard a knock at the door.

                  “Y/N/N!” You heard Dean from the other side.

                  Swiftly, you walked over and swung the door open. Dean was standing there in his night clothes with a sheepish grin on his face.

                  “What’re you doing?” You asked, rubbing your eyes again from the exhaustion you felt.

                  “Sammy kicked me out. Can I bunk with you?” He asked earnestly.

                  “I mean, I guess so.” You stood aside for Dean to walk in.

                  “Why’d you get exiled?” You asked after shutting and locking the door.

                  “Um-“ Dean paused, “Couldn’t stop talking about’cha.”

                  You stared at him before laughing softly, “You’re ridiculous.” 

                  “Only for you sweetheart.” He shot back.

                  You climbed into the bed and waited for him to get in and turn his bedside lamp off.

                  “If you talk too much, I’ll kick you out too.” You said.

                  “You wouldn’t!” 

                  “I would.” “Now go to bed.” 

                  “Not without one more of these.” Dean dipped his head to yours and kissed you once again, causing your heart to flutter.

                  With a strong embrace, he pulled you tightly to him and nuzzled his head into your neck. You sighed and closed your eyes again, beginning to fall into sleep.

                  “gd’night.” He whispered.

                  “night.”

[qrrieterisunnq]

Argument Over Name - Quinn Hughes

masterlist | wip's

— WARNINGS: nothing just sweet pure content and cute argument over name — SUMMARY: You finally convinced Quinn about getting a puppy, but he argued with you over the puppy’s name when you brought him home. — WORD COUNT: 2,02K

It was around nine am when Quinn got back from his morning practice and you’ve been a pain in his ass ever since then.

You wouldn’t shut up. First it was about your mom’s birthday which he didn’t mind, because he loves your mom.

But it was maybe an hour later, you screamed in excitement as you went through shelter websites and found the most beautiful puppy you had ever seen.

And that was your signal to annoy Quinn as much as you could to convince him to get the puppy. It was hard. It took you almost two days to do it.

Quinn wouldn’t listen to anything else just your rants about how much you want to get the puppy out of the shelter so he knows how love feels.

“Quinny, please!” you whined, shoveling your phone into his face for the millionth time today. You could say he was beyond annoyed with you, but he loved you too much to tell you straight in the face. “Just take a look at him!”

“Babe. I love you, you know that, but who would take care of him? You know that he needs to attend some training.” Quinn sighed, looking over his shoulder at you. Your lips turned into a pout as your eyes didn’t leave the photo on your phone screen.

“I would do it Q,” you whispered still looking at the puppy. “I want to help him.” You said more to yourself as you pulled away from him and went back to the dining table, where you had been sitting before.

Quinn watched you walk away from him with guilt in his eyes. He knew you would take care of the dog, but he didn’t want to deal with some small thing running around his apartment and pissing and shitting everywhere.

But the sad look on your face and the glistening eyes softened him. With a sigh, he threw his head back and got up. You were so into the article about the dog that you didn’t even notice Quinn who was standing behind you.

“Baby,” he whispered his hands were wrapped around your neck the moment he reached you, startling you a little bit. “Will you really take care of him?” he sighed and leaned down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

You nodded your head looking at him with doe eyes and pout. You knew these two things were his weakness and always made him melt. That’s why you did it.

“Okay then, I think we can get a look at him and get him,” he whispered and kissed your neck lightly.

“Really?” you pulled away from him in surprise while you dropped your phone on the table. “Are you serious Quinn?” you whispered again your hand going immediately around his neck.

“Yeah, I am, baby. But you really have to take care of him.” His lips grazed yours in a soft kiss, while his hands roamed your body, not in a sexual way, just to make sure you were okay and happy.

“I love you, Quinn.” You giggled and pressed your lips to his in a hungry kiss.

The bell above the door rang when Quinn and you made your way inside the animal shelter, only a few minutes away from your apartment building.

A lady behind the counter looked at you with a wide smile and said, “Hello, welcome to SPCA how can we help you?” Quinn looked at you and pushed you gently forward. You looked at him with a nervous grin and then politely smiled at the lady.

“Hi, uhm we came here to adopt a puppy,” you breathed out nervously. You hate talking to people and Quinn knew it that is why every time he nudges you forward to talk. “I saw this one on your website and just wanted to know if he is still available.” You pulled out your phone and showed the lady the puppy photo.

“Oh Bully! Yeah of course! You are actually the first one who wanted him.” sad smile linger on her lips for a while as she typed something on the computer.

“Are we?” Quinn’s brows were high on his forehead as he asked with surprise.

“Yeah, i blame it on the way he walks.”

You turned slightly at Quinn who looked down at you with disbelief. You could see the disgust with people.

“What happened to him?” your voice was thick from the weird feeling in your stomach you were feeling. Your hand was playing with the hem of your sweater from the nervousness while the other one was gripping Quinn’s.

Quinn could sense the change in your mood, he knew you like the back of his hand and he could tell when something was off. To calm you down he pressed his lips to your temple, and let them linger there for a while.

“When he was born, the family didn’t want him, so they didn’t feed him properly, just let him have his mother’s milk and that was all. They were somehow able to broke his back left leg in three parts.” Quinn and you could sense the hate in the lady’s voice.

You closed your eyes at that, took in a deep breath and thought about how someone could be so cruel to something so innocent as a puppy. You hated those people. If you were about to change something in this country then it would definitely be highest sentences for hurting animals.

“Assholes.” Quinn murmured under his nose shaking his head as you two followed the lady inside the room with dogs.

Your eyes immediately went to all the puppies and dogs in there. You wanted nothing more than just to adopt all of these so they could feel the love people, the right people, can show them.

As if Quinn was reading your thoughts he bent down until his lips were almost touching your ear and he whispered, “I know love, but just the one okay?”

“Okay, so here is Bully. We didn’t give him any name, because we hope someone would come for him and you did so,” she chuckled at her voice, the same went for you and Quinn. She opened the cage and pulled out the cutest puppy you have ever seen.

You let out a quiet aww when she came closer to you two. You carefully reached your hand forward, to pat him when he barked out and licked your palm.

Goggles left your mouth and Quinn watched you with so much love in his eye. He loves seeing you happy, and if a small four-legged thing shitting and running around your apartment, would make you happy, then he won’t say a word.

Quinn watched as the lady handed you the puppy who was already making its way to you. A smile spread on his lips when a giggle left your mouth when the puppy licked your face.

The lady watched the two of you with a fond smile, knowing that both of you won the lottery, when you found each other. Because in a really long time, she didn’t see a man looking at his woman the way Quinn does at you.

“You can get to know each other while I will take care of the papers. I will be back in a few.” she smiled at you two and left the room, leaving you alone in there with the small fluff in your arms.

You turned around to face Quinn, who was already looking with a small smile.

“What?” you asked, your eyes searched his for some answers and he just shook his head with chuckle.

“Nothing, babe.”

“Really?” the way he was standing there and just staring at the two of makes butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“Yeah, really.” he smirked and reached his hand forward the puppy, who either wiggling tail licked his fingers. “Hi there buddy.”

“Here, hold him,” you handed him over to Quinn, who carefully took him and positioned him like a baby in his arms with a smile lingering on his lips.

You took the opportunity of the two of them together and made some pictures of them so you could later sent them in the Hughes’ group chat.

The lady came back within a few minutes with papers for you to sign.

“We will not name him Goblin, Quinn!” you shouted at him from the kitchen, where you were currently preparing dinner for the two of you. “We are not in The Lord of the Rings.”

It has been three hours since you got home from the SPCA, and the puppy has been sleeping since then. Before you got home you managed to buy everything for him, like food, a collar, a doghouse, toys, and other things which was probably your favorite thing to do.

You could hear a loud sigh from the living room before he said, “But it would be so cool,” he whined, and you could vividly imagine the pout on his lips. “Ph and what about Shmoop?”

As soon as he said that you stopped in your tracks, your jaw hanging open. The fuck?

“Where the fuck did you look for those names?!” you walked out of the kitchen with a knife in your hand and stand in front of him.

“Uhm the AI,” he chuckled nervously and showed you his phone where a list of silly dog names was. “It’s actually really good, you should-“Before he could finish it, you took off your slipper and threw it at him.

“Quinn! Stop making fun of it!” you shouted at him with a slight frown and then went back into the kitchen. You could hear Quinn’s muffled chuckles, forcing you to smile too.

“And what about Waffles?” he said again with a teasing tone. You groaned at his words throwing your head back slightly annoyed.

“I am serious Q. We can’t name our baby like this,” you said while chopping peppers with a little too much force.

You could hear some shuffling coming from the living room before you could feel his presence behind you. You didn’t really acknowledge him and continued preparing the dinner.

“What did you just say?” his voice was deeper and raspier than before, making you turn around and look at him. 

“That we will not name our baby like this!” You knew exactly why he asked that which was why a grin spread all over your lips. Quinn, who was standing behind you, made a face as if he heard tight even for the second time, and then he just shrugged his shoulder, accepting his fate. “I have better names,” you sighed when you could feel his hands sneaking around your waist.

“Oh, you have?” he asked with a raised brows which you couldn’t see. He tightened his arms around your waist and pulled himself closer to you.

“Yeah, Winston, Atlas, Orion,” you turned around and threw your arms around his neck while tilting your head.

“No way I will call Orion in the park at him.” he shook his head and pulled away from you slightly. You pursed your lips at him.

“Quinn, you didn’t even want that dog,” You sighed and pulled away from him completely, your shoulders dropping down. “So, I can name him however I want to.” You said stubbornly and turned back to finish your dinner.

“Babe, come on,” he let out a defeated sigh and a smile grew on your lips knowing that you did what you did. You ignored him when he yet again wrapped his hands around your waist. You ignored him when he trailed his lips down your neck and on your shoulder. And you ignored him when rested his forehead against your shoulder and sighed again. “Fine, okay. You can name him however you want to.”

A mischievous smirk appeared on your lips as you achieved what you wanted to. You turned around with doe eyes and a small smile.

“Really?” you asked innocently, giggling when Quinn tickled your hips.

“Yeah, now scoot over I’m gonna help you with the dinner.”

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio DP x DC Nobody Knows AU Part 8

Part 7

Shockingly, it turns out Danny knows how to cook. He's good at it, even, and when Tucker expresses his disbelief at the practiced way Danny moves in the kitchen Danny snorts.

“You know what the Fenton kitchen was like. When I got out of there and had access to food and kitchens that weren't biohazards, I learned eventually. I have a very distinct appreciation for good food nowadays, and I like being able to make it myself.”

He puts music on through a little Bluetooth speaker on the counter, invites them to participate, and they cook.

It's fun. They dance, they drink, they sample ingredients as they put their pizzas together. There's a minor flour war that sets off rounds of giggling and shrieking - more importantly it makes Danny cackle in a way she used to love and hasn't gotten to hear since they were teens.

It's exactly the same, and she missed it. Pure impish delight and mischief.

For as many things that are the same, there are ones that have changed.

Danny has a grace to him now that he didn't used to, and he moves near silently. He sways easily and elegantly to the music without thinking about it as they talk and make mischief with each other.

The oven and the adjusted thermostat make it much more comfortable in the apartment after a while, but Danny doesn't shed the pullover sweater he wears at any point. He didn't even roll the sleeves up to cook.

Come to think of it, when they entered high school he started doing that too. He wore long sleeves even in the summer - Sam tries not to think about abusive households or self harm. She hopes it's not that, but…

She puts the thoughts aside as well as she can.

Tucker had mentioned it before to her, but with all the grinning and laughing tonight Sam can see that he was right and Danny's teeth are sharper than she remembers. All four canine teeth are almost startlingly pointy.

She doesn't mention it. What she does mention is the apartment.

“This is a really nice place, Danny. You got a secret sugar daddy you haven't told us about?”

Tucker gapes at her and smacks her arm. Danny bluescreens for a moment before he snorts an ugly laugh and descends into near hysterics.

“Oh my God! Ancients, no! No, no sugar daddy. Just a well paying engineering gig lately, and some money I saved up before I left Amity. Holy shit, Sam.”

She shrugs, some tension she didn't know she was carrying leaving her shoulders. “Had to ask. Would have had a shovel talk to deliver.”

Danny starts laughing again, and Tucker groans and puts his head in his hands.

“I cannot believe you actually just asked him that,” Tucker moans.

“I can,” Danny responds with a chipper grin, Tucker's answering snort overlaid by the ding of the oven timer.

Danny knocks back the rest of his drink and waves in the vague direction of the living room area.

“I'll take this out and cut it. Go sit and we can eat it around the coffee table in case we want to watch a movie or something?”

The sitting area is spacious and comfortable, couches black leather. There's a heavy, fluffy white throw over the back of one that looks soft as all get out, but she and Tuck quickly decide to settle on the floor.

The coffee table is low enough that it's more convenient for reaching food and drinks set on it.

Tucker whistles appreciatively at the TV, so it must be a cutting edge new model. Fucking nerd.

Danny trots over not long after with two serving boards balanced precariously on one arm, his refilled sangria in one hand, the pitcher of sangria in the other and another beer held against his side by an awkward elbow.

Tucker and Sam both shoot to their feet to try and mitigate a disaster, but miraculously it all makes it to the table unharmed.

“It's almost like you guys don't trust me,” Danny pouts, his grin ruining it. “Careful, it's hot.”

“You are a perpetual accident waiting to happen,” Sam tells him scathingly, and he snorts with a peculiar look on his face.

“You don't know the half of it.”

As they all reach for slices of pizza, Danny takes them by surprise by taking a piece of Sam's, not Tucker's.

Tucker gapes at him. “Dude. Tell me you haven't betrayed me like that.”

Danny snorts, shoulders shaking with quiet chuckles. “Nah, I still eat meat. It's just sometimes I have spells where it kind of bothers me and I feel a little sick about it? I'm in one of those lately, but usually I'm still a huge burger and steak guy. Don't worry.”

“Huh. That's weird.”

Danny shrugs, taking a bite of his pizza despite his own warnings and cringing when it burns his mouth.

“Been like that since high school, actually. Used to be worse then,” he mumbles through his attempts to cool a mouthful of molten cheese.

Sam doesn't remember him ever having issues with it in middle school. She wonders what happened to change his outlook, but puts it aside. They're here to hang out and catch up. Have a good time. Not interrogate Danny.

They end up spending hours watching trashy TV and heckling the screen, making small talk and letting each other in on bits of their lives all the while. Everyone's well on their way to tipsy by the time they're done eating, though Danny a little more than Sam and Tuck.

He's loose-limbed and happy, sprawled across both of them in the haphazard pile they've ended up in. He seems incredibly content, and it does Sam's heart good to see him so relaxed.

She and Tucker are sitting with their backs against the couch, Danny's legs slung across Tucker's lap and head in Sam's. It's probably why he notices her shiver a little - it's still a little chilly in the apartment.

Lazily, he points up at the back of the couch. “You can pull that down and cover us if you want. It's really warm.”

Sam offers him a quiet thanks and reaches up to do just that, though she's startled to find that though the top is fluffy, the underside of what she'd thought was a throw is velvety and smooth. Like hide.

It's a real fur - hopefully ethically sourced. Decorated too, there are ornaments threaded into the corners and dangling that she can't pin the origin of. They're very pretty, shells and claws and beads.

As she pulls it down, she flips the edge up to peek at the underside and is startled to find the skin a distinct, familiar ectoplasmic green.

“Um. Danny. What kind of fur is this…?”

“Yeti,” Danny replies offhandedly, sipping his drink before freezing like the question and his own answer just caught up to him. “Uh.”

Masterpost

[sorrowsofsilence]

the bet • bad omens

pairing: all bad omens members x fem!reader

words: 8.4K • masterlist

warnings: 18+, fwb and lust, smut with each member (you are the bet lol)(penetration pls wrap it b4 u tap it, male!receiving, photos taken, fem!receiving, swearing, nicknames: pretty girl, princess, good girl, baby girl), jealousy, mentions of alcohol/smoking/edibles)

summary: each of them want you- so they decide to make a bet.

note: this is purely self indulgent and filthy lmao, i hope you enjoy.

PS. THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

Folio finished licking the wrapper, rolling the buds to form a joint while twisting the end, smiling down at his handy work.

Noah sat across from him on the couch, sharing a bag of chips with Ruffilo, while Jolly opened a beer on the left, placing it on the coffee table.

“I always win on little Mac,” Noah mumbled, still salty that Ruffilo kicked his ass as Ganondorf. The two had been rambling about their previous Super Smash Bros session.

“Do you?” Ruffilo laughed, shovelling a few chips in his mouth, “I think it’s time to leave little Mac behind.”

Noah sent him a glare in response, clearly unimpressed with that suggestion, before eyeing Folio.

He lit the joint, taking a slow drag before blowing the smoke out of his nose and leaning across the table to hand it to Noah.

It had been a while since they got to enjoy each other’s company casually like this. With five consecutive days off until their next show, and only one day of travel between, this was the longest time they’ve had this whole tour to relax.

Noah sucked the smoke into his lungs, before passing it to Ruffilo, “Man, I’m so glad we finally have some time to catch up on sleep.”

All of them nodded their heads in agreement, sinking into their seats as the smoke filled the room.

Jolly now held the joint between his inked fingers, rolling it between them, “I don’t think I’ve caught up… ever.”

Folio agreed, scrolling through his phone to pick some music, and hooked up to the room’s speaker. “I’d like to get out and enjoy the scenery, too. Go for a walk like a normal human or some shit.”

Noah hummed in agreement, sitting up to take a sip of his water. The room became hazy in no time, the smell of weed pungent as the conversation jumped from topic to topic.

Eventually, each of them became quiet, only the music ringing between the walls anticipating Nicholas’ question.

“Where’s Y/N? Did she go to bed?”

Noah’s eyes flicked over to Folio, analyzing his expression before darting to Jolly, who stared nonchalantly at the beer can on the table.

Ruffilo’s gaze danced between the boys as they sat quietly until Jolly spoke.

“Nah. She goes to bed late. Probably busy doing something with Matt.”

The tech's name echoed between each of the boys, ringing in their ears with resentment. They loved Matt, but the amount of time he got to spend with the one girl who drove them all mad made them envious- and question his motives.

Folio took a quick puff, passing it over the table to Ruffilo, “You think they’ve hooked up?”

Jolly took a long sip of his beer, face scrunching subtly. Certainly not from the drink- but at the mere suggestion of you and Matt.

Noah shrugged, his eyes rolling in annoyance at the thought.

“What,” Folio laughed, gaze narrowing in hinted understanding with his friend, “jealous?”

Noah coughed from the weed, and accusation, waving his hand in front of his face to help dissipate the ever-building smoke- but the word hung heavy in the enclosed space.

Noah, Folio, and Ruffilo all tried to hide their envious glances towards the eldest member, who chugged the remainder of his drink before twisting the empty can in his fingers. Anything to distract himself from the tension.

To say you affected the boys was an understatement. They were completely enamoured by you; obsessed with every smile, every laugh, every lingering touch.

You had joined their crew a year ago, partnering with Matt on sound mixing during their live sets. You were a phenomenal addition to their growing team and a much-needed asset. However, your work ethic and talent weren’t the only things that had them engrossed.

Every time you sat next to one of them, or even looked in their direction- each was ready to fold. None of them would even hesitate to fall onto their knees and succumb to your every desire.

If only you asked them to.

And the one lucky bastard who got a sweet taste of your touch one rare night three months ago?

The one who remained silent at Folio’s burdensome allegation?

Jolly kept his eyes on the can, playing with the metal tab as he fought the smile that twitched on his lips.

“Fucking lucky asshole,” Folio whined, throwing a pillow in annoyance at the Swede.

Jolly snickered, throwing it back at the drummer who barely dodged it with brows furrowed bitterly.

“It was one time,” Jolly rolled his head back, “and it’s not like we had sex.”

Noah grabbed the joint from Ruffilo, closing his eyes as he inhaled, “Yeah,” he exhaled with spite as he tilted his head animatedly, “but you got, and I quote, ‘the best fucking head I’ve ever had, hands down,’ end quote.”

Jolly didn’t even try and hide the wide smile that grew on his lips, earning another pillow being thrown at him, this time from Noah.

God, what the singer would give to have your lips wrapped around him. What the Nicks would do to have a peek at the secrets beneath your hoodie.

“I’d kill to have just one more night with her,” Jolly said.

“At least you had one,” Noah glared. He was jealous. They all were.

It was silent momentarily, before Folio sighed, speaking for the room, “Fuck, what I’d do to get a piece of that ass.”

Noah and Jolly nodded along, Ruffilo watching through the corner of his eye.

“Same,” Noah ran a hand along his face, “That pretty little mouth of hers? Shit.”

Although Ruffilo agreed with everything they said, he felt the need to bud in, “Don’t like, objectify her.”

Noah immediately scoffed, turning his head to face his best friend, “Don’t act like you don’t think about what it would feel like getting your dick sucked by her.”

Ruffilo shrugged, reaching into the chip bag, “I mean yeah, Y/N’s hot-” He wanted to continue to discuss her wonderful personality, but Noah interjected.

“See? Point proven,” He said, sticking his tongue out at the long-haired brunette.

“She’s got all of us dick whipped bro,” Folio shook his head, taking a swig of his beer, “and she’s literally just existing.”

Jolly laughed, sitting up in his chair, “I bet she’d suck my dick again. At least once more.”

Ruffilo raised a brow, hiding his jealousy with a handful of chips.

“Yea?” Noah leaned onto his knees, elbows perched on either one, “I bet she’d let me rail her. Multiple times.”

The slanted smile that grew upon Jolly’s face said it all as Folio took the last puff of the blunt, and then tossing it into the ashtray, “Hey- I bet I could do both.”

The three of them shared a glance, then turned to Ruffilo.

“I bet all that and more,” He said, chin resting on his palm.

"Yeah?" Jolly snickered, standing up to crack open another beer by the counter in the hotel room. "Fine, then. Deal." He tilted his head as he took a swig of the amber drink.

“How do you win then?” Noah began, raising a brow.

Jolly crossed his arms over his chest in contemplation, then shrugged, “First one to do anything sexual wins.”

Noah shook his head, pointing an accusatory finger. “No, because you automatically have a one-up. First to get two consecutive nights with her wins.”

“And winner gets what exactly?” Folio asked, staring between the boys.

Ruffilo shrugged his shoulders at his own suggestion, “Dibs?”

A stare-down commenced before Jolly walked back over, leaning forward to place his hand above the coffee table. Folio joined, his hand on Jolly’s before Noah and Ruffilo followed, stacking their hands and signing away their pride.

“Ok, Bet.” Folio’s smirk lit up his face.

“Bet.”

=

Completely oblivious to the deal behind the door, you knocked on the wood with your foot, arms full of various snacks. Matt stood next to you, carrying boxes of drinks as you waited for the hotel door to open.

The talking on the otherside quieted as the knob turned, the drummer nervously coughing as he opened the door. The smell of weed slapped you in the face as the dank haze that flowed out filled your lungs.

Folio’s eyes remained fixated on you as he held the door, a faint blush tinting his cheeks as you nodded gratefully at him. The immediate silence from the four boys in the room made your chest tighten, and nerves ran to the ends of your fingertips as you walked towards the counter.

You weren’t oblivious to the stares as each of the boys watched you place the items on the faux marble, their gazes lingering longer than usual. There was an odd energy in the room you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but when you turned back around, each quickly distracted themselves with their drinks or snacks.

Flashing the boys a small smile, you hid your overthinking thoughts.

Maybe they didn’t want you here.

With a nervous breath, you swallowed that thought, reaching for the can Matt held out to you.

“Sorry we took so long. We did a quick rehearsal for Friday, then ran to the store.”

Noah glanced at you quickly before averting his eyes, Ruffilo doing the same. Folio sat back down on the couch, Matt plopping next to him with a grunt.

The room felt heavy as they continued to bounce silent words between each other, the challenge of the bet, unknown to you, sinking in their minds.

Matt took a sip of his drink, scanning each of his friends and their strange demeanour, “The fuck is wrong with y’all?” he said, scoffing with a raised brow, “Why are you acting like a bunch of fucking weirdos.”

Ruffilo coughed, taking a swig of his drink before handing the bag of chips to Noah, who immediately shovelled a handful into his mouth as if avoiding the question.

“We were just having a deep conversation before you got here, is all,” Jolly clicked his tongue, staring at you longingly before turning his attention to Matt. “How did the rehearsal go?”

Standing there awkwardly for a moment, you swung your legs to distract yourself, before looking at the taken seats. Tuning out Matt’s rambling, you didn’t know where to sit, until you noticed the arm of the chair Jolly sat on.

You were decently close to Jolly- considering his cock was shoved down your throat during that one drunk escapade- but all things considered, you knew he wouldn’t mind if you sat next to him there.

As soon as you walked across the room, you felt each of their gazes burning into you, watching your every move. Jolly's brows raised in surprise as you approached him, and you hummed nervously before taking a seat on the hard arm of the chair.

Giving them all a curt smile, you took another sip of your drink, staring at the carpeted ground.

“Surely that can’t be comfortable love.”

Jolly’s accent was thick, snapping you away from your thoughts.

“Here,” he tugged your wrist, motioning for you to sit on his lap, “Trust me I don’t mind.”

“Oh-” was all you could say before his hands grabbed your hips, sliding you down onto him.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying not to wiggle too much above the guitarist, but needing to get comfortable. His fingers still gripped your hips, moving with your shifting.

Folio's eye-roll and Noah’s annoyed frown went unnoticed, but you caught a glimpse of Ruffilo's clenched fist, his knuckles tightening momentarily.

“You sure?” You mumbled, shaking your head, “I’m okay on the arm, or even the floor-”

Jolly laughed, the melodic sound leaving the hairs on your arm standing. His enigmatic personality always left you nervous.

"I am more than sure.”

Matt moved on and picked up the conversation again, the boys finally joining at a more normal pace and talking about this week's plans. Yet your mind felt foggy as one of Jolly’s hands crept from your waist, down to the top of your thigh.

He stilled his movements for a few minutes, your chest tightening.

“Maybe we can go to an aquarium, or-” The thought was cut short, breath caught in your throat once you felt Jolly’s inked fingers rubbing up and down your skin, slowly reaching to squeeze the inside of your thigh.

With your gaze kept forward you took another sip, “-a movie?”

Matt’s eyes wandered to Jolly’s hand, squinting in confusion momentarily before standing up to grab one of the snacks you picked from the counter.

“I’m down for whatever,” the blonde said, tossing you a bag of candy. Smiling at him gratefully, you opened the bag and took a piece, using it to distract you.

“I like the sound of a movie,” Noah said, staring at Folio as he spoke. He tried to hide the ever-growing envy in his chest, “Haven’t been to one with people in forever.”

“Why is it you like going alone again?” Folio asked, eyes locked on Noah, shielding his vision from Jolly.

Noah laughed, “No handjobs, just me and my vitamin water.”

You tried listening to their conversations but felt the swede shift beneath you, slowly guiding your hips in a circular motion.

Jolly’s growing arousal pushed against you from beneath, leaving your stomach swirling at his advancement. It was bold- even for him. You crossed your legs in an attempt to suppress your desire, but he knew.

He knew the effect he had.

The way his fingers kept kneading at your thighs left your heart pounding. What was he doing? What was wrong with you?

As the boys started dragging on about Elden Ring, Jolly adjusted to whisper in your ear, “So, you forgot something in your room, right?”

Heat rose to your cheeks, goosebumps adorning your skin at his comment. All you could do was nod before standing up, taking a final sip and tossing the can into the bin.

The conversation stopped as you walked toward the door, Jolly standing up from the chair.

“Where are you going?” Ruffilo asked you, biting his lip to distract himself. They all knew.

“I just- forgot something in my room.” You said, trying to shrug it off.

Once you left, all eyes turned to Jolly, the smug smile on his face radiant in satisfaction.

Folio stood up, pointing an accusative finger, “You just- I- that’s cheating.”

Jolly grabbed the hair tie off his wrist, pulling his dark strands into a quick bun as he walked toward the door.

Turning to face his competitors, his best friends, he smiled, “Don’t hate the player. Hate the game.”

=

Jolly’s mouth moved with yours as he held you on top of the desk in your room. You didn’t think you’d ever be in this position with him again- but you certainly didn’t mind.

“Do you think about that night often?” He asked, hands holding your hips in place.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about your previous night with him, but you always tried to push the thoughts away. You didn’t think anything would happen again, and you knew deep down you couldn’t continue anything like this with him.

You liked him, sure, but weren’t committed to the idea of a relationship.

But, one more night wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Sometimes,” You whispered, hands clasped around the back of his neck as he kissed along your jaw, “do you?”

Pulling you off the desk he held you close to him, lips devouring yours for a second longer, “More than I probably should.”

His admission made your knees weak. You didn’t care if they were only words of infatuation; you loved the effect you had on him.

Taking your hand, you tugged on his belt, letting your hand rub along his covered erection. Jolly’s immediate whimper made you smile against his lips.

Allowing yourself to kneel before him, you pulled the leather apart, undoing the zipper.

He was sensitive to every touch, eyes never leaving you and absorbing every movement you made. Knowing this, you couldn’t help but tease him, leaning in to graze your teeth over his underwear.

Looking up at the swede through your lashes, he watched, lips parted in need as you pressed your tongue against the tip, still using the cotton as a barrier.

Jolly’s fingers ran through the side of your hair, tangling in the strands as you took a finger, gliding it between the hem of his boxers. He shook his head, giving you an exasperated smile.

Finally tugging down the fabric, you ran the flat of your tongue across his length, swiping along the head slightly before trailing back down.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” He breathed, the teasing smile causing him to lick his lips.

“Why not give you something more to think about?” You shrugged, wrapping your hand around the base, before taking him in your mouth.

The immediate relief on Jolly’s face made you chuckle along his cock, the taste of his pre-cum salty against your tongue.

Swirling around the tip you swallowed him, taking everything he offered as best you could before pulling away, allowing the string of saliva to follow.

You twisted your hand around, using your saliva to assist your movements before sucking and pressing your tongue along the base.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his other hand replacing yours on his cock, holding it to your lips.

You clasped your hands behind your back, only using your mouth as you bobbed along, being sure to keep your eyes on him.

He watched you with furrowed brows, the crease in his forehead evidence of his growing orgasm. His hips slowly rutted into your mouth, matching your movements in a synchronized wave.

“Shit princess, you’re so fucking hot.”

His encouraging words made your face warm, his cock buried in your throat causing you to gag along him.

“Let me take a picture of you. A memoir if I may?”

You pulled off of him, continuing to using your hand as you spoke, “Only if you keep it to yourself.”

Jolly smiled, reaching for his phone on the desk, holding it above you, “Of course.”

Using your hand you continued to stoke him as you sucked.

“Just your mouth,” He whispered, “That’s it.”

You held your hands behind your back once again, being sure to look up into the camera- just for him.

Jolly continued with praises until you felt him stiffen, eyes fighting closure.

A deep groan crawled from his chest as he held you still, his release coating the back of your throat.

Closing your eyes you swallowed everything, sticking out your tongue to show him.

“That’s a good girl,” He ran his fingers along your scalp in approval.

Standing up you helped him with his pants, pulling them back over his waist and putting his belt back together.

Jolly leaned into your body, holding your jaw firmly as he kissed you once again.

“Let me take care of you,” He said between kisses, and you pulled away smiling.

Looking at the clock on the nightstand it was well past 2 am. Despite the throbbing ache between your legs, you knew you needed some sleep before travelling tomorrow.

“I love sucking you off, so don’t worry about it,” You said slowly, leaning in to give him a quick kiss, “but I need to go to bed… so, rain check?”

Jolly’s eyes flashed with something you missed, fighting back a cocky grin, “of course. you know where to find me.”

Once the guitarist made it back to his hotel room, the boys were still sitting in their spots, now glaring daggers toward him.

“One down. One more to go,” Jolly said, licking his bottom lip in accomplishment as he thrust into the air for cocky effect.

“Dick,” Noah mumbled, to which Matt stared at his friends, confused once again.

“Clearly I’m missing something,” The blonde groaned, and shook his head.

=

After hours of travelling the next day, you were exhausted. The crew had pulled up to the next hotel- and things were going smoothly up until checking in at reception.

“What do you mean we’re short a room?” Matt said to the lady, clearly confused, “We’ve had this booked for weeks.”

“I’m sorry but you only had three rooms in the original booking.” The woman was sympathetic, hands folded in front of her, “There aren’t any more available but we can put a cot in one of the rooms.”

The one thing you respected most about the boys was how they always gave you a room to yourself; but it would be ok to share just for one night, wouldn’t it?

The boys looked at each other, before shrugging.

“I guess that’s fine,” Matt said.

Looking at them you scratched your arm nervously, “I can share my room so you don’t have to do that, I don’t mind.”

“With who?” Folio asked quickly, each of them turning to watch you intensely.

You almost laughed at how weird they were being, before shaking your head, “Uh I don’t care.”

Quickly glancing at Jolly, you knew it would be a bad idea if you two were together.

So you looked at the brunette next to him, his thick brows raising in surprise once he met your gaze.

Ruffilo stared at you, blinking rapidly before calming his composure. He wanted to share a room with you so bad. But he knew the others would too. Would you pick him?

And when his name fell off your lips he almost yelled out loud, ready to pump a fist into his chest then and there.

“Uh, Ruffilo? Care to share?”

The sweet boy was always one of your favourites, even if you tried to avoid bias between them. He’d be a harmless partner, right?

The way his face flushed a deep maroon made you smile nervously, afraid you put him on the spot. “It’s okay if you’re not comfortable, I’m happy to offer the room to someone else?”

“No! No, it’s totally fine with me.” He peered at Noah, who stared at the ground, “That ok with you Noah?”

“Sure man,” Noah’s curt grin made your stomach swirl as his gaze flicked toward you, unspoken words lingering behind his stiff expression.

Grabbing a keycard you nodded at Ruffilo, who trailed behind you.

You didn’t see how he glanced back at his friends, holding his fingers up in an ‘L’ on his forehead.

Hearing various scoffs behind you, you turned to raise a brow, “Okay, what is with you guys lately?”

They all shook their heads as everyone entered the elevator, leaving you to eye Matt who just shrugged, looking as confused as you.

“You guys have been acting weirder than usual- like- you’re normally weird- but since last night something’s been off. Did I do something wrong?”

“No not at all-“ Ruffilo was quick to defend you, his silver eyes wide with worry, “you’ve done nothing. I think we are all just relieved to have some time off for once. Right?”

He looked around swiftly at the boys who nodded.

“Tired,” Noah said, his eyes lingering on your figure for a moment too long.

“Hungry,” Folio said, licking his lips, almost in annoyance, as he peeled his eyes away.

Jolly didn’t even glance at you, his face neutral- an attempt to hide his disappointment you chose Ruffilo over him.

He was this close to winning the bet.

Matt looked around quickly, shaking his head, “I’m sure a little TLC will cure their… brain fog or whatever. You guys need to like, get laid or something- Jesus.”

Noah snickered audibly before staring up at the ceiling of the elevator. Folio stared at his shoes.

Once you got to the room you held the card against the sensor, waiting for the door to click. Opening it, you and Ruffilo stood in the doorway, your chest tightening as you entered.

“I don’t mind joining them on a cot-” he began, but you gave him a shrug.

There was only one bed, meaning the two of you would be sharing.

“It’s alright with me if it’s alright with you.”

Ruffilo only smiled, his nervous wading back as he rolled his suitcase into the room, “I guess we should get ready to go to dinner?”

=

Getting back to the room was a blessing and a curse.

You were tired, but also nervous as the bassist trailed behind you.

As you two got ready for bed you tried to avert your eyes while Ruffilo unbuttoned his shirt in the corner, the brunette glancing at you every so often.

Coughing shyly, you averted your eyes as you grabbed your pyjamas, sliding into the washroom to change.

It felt almost scandalous to be wearing such small shorts and a thin tank top, but you pushed that away and reminded yourself that it was just one night. It would be fine.

Ruffilo sucked in a breath when you walked out, and you tried to hide your staring as he stood there shirtless in his shorts. Your eyes darted back to his chest, following the lines of his tattoos.

“I hope it’s ok I don’t wear a shirt… I run warm,” He said restlessly as he sat on the edge of the bed. His leg bounced up and down and you suddenly felt bad you suggested he room with you.

Maybe he was more uncomfortable with this than you had thought.

“Nicholas you don’t have to share with me-”

“No!” He stood up, hands out in reassurance. His reaction made you chuckle as his face warmed again, shaking his head, “I mean, no it’s okay. I- I want to stay here with you.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” You said, arms folded across your chest in insecurity.

“You don��t- I-” He stood there, tucking his hair behind his ear, “I just- You make me nervous, but that’s not a you problem.”

You chuckled again, turning off the main room light, and clicking on the nightstand lamp, “I make you nervous?”

Crawling into your side of the bed, Nicholas followed, tucking himself beneath the covers on the edge of his side, afraid to be any closer to you.

“Why do I make you nervous?” You asked, pulling down the hotel room pillows, and lying on your side to face him.

The bass player followed your movements, facing you as he got comfortable. He closed his eyes, contemplating his words before speaking his confession.

“You’re mesmerizing. Everything about you makes my heart pound.” He said softly, his words sinking deep within your skin.

All you could do was stare at him, his grey eyes flickering between your own, waiting for a response.

“Really?” Was all you could say, your stomach swirling with butterflies as you bit back a smile.

Ruffilo nodded, hands beneath his head as he watched you with a shy grin.

Your heart began to race as you hid your face in the pillow, suppressing a nervous laugh. “You’re the hot one in a band.”

“Yeah well- you’re the pretty girl we are lucky enough to have all to ourselves.”

“Shh, stop.” You whispered, ears flushed as his words sunk into your mind.

The evening was spent sharing random stories and laughing at each other’s jokes. You couldn’t stop smiling as you and Ruffilo turned off your lamps, rolling to face away from each other and letting sleep take over.

However, your mind raced with a chest warm with admiration, before finally falling into a deep slumber.

-

Waking up you felt a set of strong arms wrapped around your waist, body pressed against your back.

Your limbs were entangled with Nicholas’ body fitting against yours; however, something else caught your attention.

Ruffilo’s body was stiff as you accidentally moved your hips into him, trying to pull away slowly- but his grip on your torso tightened, holding you against him.

His cock pressed into you from behind, causing your heart to pound.

God, this would be so wrong, wouldn’t it?

Ruffilo’s hands gripped your hips as he rolled into you slowly, breath brushing across your neck.

Closing your eyes you smiled, contemplating whether to do this or not; but what’s the harm in a quick morning fuck? With someone who liked you just as much as you liked them?

You pushed your body against him slowly, rutting back and forth along him teasingly.

The groan that left Ruffilo’s chest caused your body to warm, tingling from the excitement as he squeezed the skin beneath your tank top.

“I want you so bad Y/N,” He whispered against your ear, lips grazing down the lobe toward your neck.

“Then have me,” you breathed, taking your hand and holding his thigh, pulling him closer toward you.

Ruffilo’s lips attached to your neck, teeth biting along the delicate skin. You allowed him to suck, marking you below your ear.

He hooked a finger in your shorts, pulling them down your legs swiftly as he continued to spooned you. Taking his inked fingers, he dipped them between your thighs from behind, running them thoroughly along your folds.

Ruffilo’s touch made you squirm, buzzing from the thrill of him.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he said quietly, a mix of awe and lust as he used your arousal to lubricate himself.

“I woke up with your cock pressed up against me, what do you expect?” You gave him a breathy laugh as he lined up to your entrance, pushing just his tip inside.

You cursed as the brunette held your hips once again, nails digging into the skin as he slowly sunk further into you, right to the hilt.

Allowing your body to adjust you moaned at the feeling of Ruffilo taking over your body. It wasn’t long until his thrusts were quick, fucking you with needy desperation from behind as you two lay on the bed.

“Oh my god,” he groaned, his infatuation with your pussy leaving you a smiling mess as he pounded into you, hands worshiping your skin, “you feel so fucking good.”

The lewd sounds that left the both of you filled the room, and once he reached between your thighs, fingers pressing into your core with a circular motion, you screamed out his name.

“I’m not going to last long,” He breathed, leaning in to bite your shoulder as he held you close. His admission pushed you over the edge, his fingers pressing into you, cock buried deep.

With the cry of his name, you clenched around his body. Ruffilo pulled out, stoking himself quickly as his release coated your back, the warmth making you jolt.

The two of you lay there for a moment, chests heaving. Ruffilo watched you in awe as you turned, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek as he pulled you into his chest.

You relished in the moment he kissed your forehead, his warm breath cascading down your face as you squeezed him close.

What did you just do?

Getting up you quickly headed to the shower after giving him another which kiss.

Your mind spun as your body came down from the orgasm, and when you closed the bathroom door, Ruffilo sat up in bed, high-fiving himself.

One, he was just happy to even get a taste of your body- but two, he was officially on par with Jolly.

=

“Point for this guy.”

As he approached the boys at breakfast, Ruffilo pointed his thumbs toward himself proudly.

You were busy in the hotel room packing a backpack for the aquarium, and Ruffilo knew he had to gloat before you overhead.

“No fucking wayy,” Folio groaned, while Noah ran a frustrated hand down his face.

Nick and Noah felt defeated, both still needing at least one time to be even close to winning this bet.

Jolly folded his arms over his chest, sinking into the wooden chair at the breakfast table, “You’re just lucky she picked you to share the room. I would’ve already been calling dibs by now if it wasn’t for that.”

“Sure,” Ruffilo rolled his eyes, “but she picked me!” With a radiant smile, he dug into his breakfast, the eggs tasting even better than normal.

You and Matt walked into the room, stopping at the table. Ruffilo met your eyes momentarily, both of you flushing as you recalled this morning’s events.

“To the aquarium?” Matt asked, snapping you out of the trance, and Ruffilo shovelled down the rest of his food.

Folio ran a hand through his hair. It was now or never, and he didn’t want to lose.

Standing up he adjusted his shirt before approaching you, wrapping a hand around your wrist and leading the two of you out of the restaurant.

“Where are we-” you began as the drummer tugged you behind him, pressing a finger up to his lips to shush you.

His hand was warm as it held you taught against his side, pulling you out one of the back doors.

“Nick, where are we going?” You asked, but moulded into his touch, allowing him to tug you freely.

He didn’t say anything once you made it outside, and then pulled out a small bag.

Two square gummies sat inside the plastic as Folio held it up tauntingly.

“Let’s get high,” He said, letting go of your arm and opening the bag, holding the gummy out to you.

“What?” You laughed, raising a brow, “It’s like 10 am.”

“Trust me. It’s so fucking fun at aquariums. Last time I had the most fun I’ve ever had at an aquarium, ever.”

You snickered, shaking your head, “and how many times have you been to an aquarium?”

Folio gave you a cheeky look, “twice.”

That brought out another laugh, and you chewed on your lip. “Alright, sure Folio. Bet.”

His eyes clung to yours for a second too long at the word that left your lips, before prompting you to open your mouth.

Sticking out your tongue, he placed it in your mouth carefully, watching you intensely before placing the other in his mouth.

You savoured the taste of the berry flavour as you laughed, “I can’t believe we are doing this. You’re such a goof.”

Folio bumped your shoulder as he led you back inside, “a goof with great ideas.”

“And now what?” You asked.

Folio shoved the bag back into his pocket, the devilish smirk on his lips eating you alive, “Now we wait.”

=

The two of you were non-stop giggling in the car towards the end of the drive. Once you got to the aquarium, Folio reached for your hand, pulling you out of the vehicle.

It felt like a little secret between the two of you, yet everyone in the car glared towards the youngest member. You couldn’t help but wonder if they knew.

It wasn't very busy at the aquarium, with only a few people strolling around the different enclosures.

You and Folio were glued to each other’s sides, laughing at every single thing until it started driving the rest of the boys crazy.

“What is wrong with you?” Matt asked, pulling you aside. His annoyance mixed with concern made you smile, admiring his care for you.

You laughed, unable to take him seriously as you placed a hand on his shoulder, and touched his nose adoringly.

“Me and Nick took an edible,” the snort that came from your lips made you giggle even harder.

Folio then covered his mouth in the background. “Sorry Matty, I just can’t stop laughing.”

“Jesus,” Matt laughed, shaking his head in amusement, “Why am I not surprised?”

The blonde just smiled down at you warmly, and you pulled away from his interrogation as Folio dragged you toward a tank of angel fish.

“Oh my god, look,” you said excitedly, holding the drummer against you as you pressed your face against the tank. The feeling of the cool glass against your warm skin brought a newfound hyper awareness to your senses, causing you to giggle again.

“It’s more fun watching them swim around this way, isn’t it? They’re like little weird alien blobs.” Folio chuckled, and you nodded in agreement.

The two of you were attached at the hip, running ahead of everybody and taking in everything you could see.

You were too absorbed with Folio, and the Fish, to notice the annoyed grumbling that came from Ruffilo, Noah, and Jolly

Once you got to the otter enclosure, there was a chance to walk outside.

You and Folio followed the wooden pathway to the outside habitat, taking a seat on a bench.

The peak of the high felt like it was wearing off, and you could feel yourself getting a little sleepy.

Resting your head on Folio’s shoulder you closed your eyes, still smiling as the sun beamed against your skin.

“This has been so fun, Nick,” you whispered, nuzzling against his shirt that suddenly had the most amazing texture in the world.

Folio reached for your hand, holding it between his as he placed his head on top of yours, “it really has been.”

Pulling away you sat up, staring at the otters jumping and swimming in the water, until you felt a set of fingers gently reach under your chin.

Following his direction, Folio turned you to face him, leaning in slowly.

His heart was pounding so fast- he almost felt scared.

What if he didn’t want this to be part of some bet?

What if he wanted this to be real?

The closer he got to your lips, the more nervous he felt.

This was real for him.

You didn't pull away, allowing the drummer to press his mouth against yours. The kiss was delicate, and something you never felt before; leaving your limbs tingling- a mixture of your inebriation and excitement.

It seemed wrong to be kissing him- especially after everything that happened with Jolly and Ruffilo- but you couldn’t stop.

His lips were so soft, his kiss growing hungrier as he became filled with need at each breath. Folio reached his hand up to cup your cheek, and you pulled away from him, face warm as your fingers touched your tingling lips.

“Not in public,” you said quietly, giggling as he pouted.

“There’s no one out here at least,” Folio whispered, leaning in teasingly, nose touching yours, “I need your lips on mine.”

Biting your bottom lip you laughed, pressing your forehead against his as you closed your eyes, inhaling the fresh air.

“Ok, then where?” you met his ochre eyes, the deep brown almost enchanting as he watched you longingly.

Folio immediately stood up, eagerly holding onto your hand.

Walking together he pulled you inside, only for you to be stopped by Noah and Matt.

“Whatcha doing?” Noah asked, eyes darting between the two of you. You stared at him, swallowing nervously.

Somehow, You knew that he knew, and it made your ears turn hot.

“Snack,” Folio said, giving them a thumbs up.

“Oh, can we join?” Matt asked, and Noah nodded quickly.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea,” Noah said, watching you now.

“Uh,” you began, but Folio tugged on your wrist, pulling you away from them.

“Nope! Bye!” Folio said, sticking out his tongue at Noah, dragging you with him.

You began giggling once again, the high coming in waves. Folio looked around the place until he saw a single bathroom.

Dragging you inside he locked the door behind the two of you, immediately turning to pin you against the frame.

Your laughter then stopped as he loomed over you, heart racing as he kissed you desperately, tongue pressed against your bottom lip.

With a hand on your chin and a hand on your hip, he held you there, his body caging you to the door.

You moaned into his mouth, allowing your fingers to trail up into his short hair, running them through the gelled strands.

“You have no idea what you to do me, do you?” Folio breathed between kisses, the hand on your hip reaching further down to grip your ass, “To all of us?”

Swallowing his words as he spoke, your chest tightened.

Three boys in the last two days?

Where was all this coming from?

You weren’t oblivious to their stares or their advances- but it was odd that all of a sudden it felt like such a challenge for them to take you on.

But really? You didn’t mind at all.

Folio’s fingers gripped your chin harder, holding you to his mouth as his tongue pressed against yours with thirst before pulling back.

“I won’t let you forget me.” He said, a suggestive smile radiating above you as you looked up at him.

Your body almost vibrated at his words, anticipation ringing in your ears as he led you to the counter, lifting you to sit on the edge.

All you could do was watch as your limbs tingled, and Folio pulled your jeans down your thighs, leaving you exposed in your underwear.

He kissed you briefly again before trailing kisses down your neck, tugging your t-shirt down to kiss your shoulder.

You lifted the shirt for him, allowing his tongue to dip between the valley in your chest and down your stomach until he was kneeling before you.

Your breathing already felt erratic as you watched him smile up at you, his eyes lidded in lust as his fingers tugged your panties to the side, sinking between your folds.

Folio ran his fingers along your arousal for a moment, before sticking them into his mouth, tasting you.

“Fuck baby girl,” he moaned, positioning his hand at your entrance, “you taste so good.”

He pushed into you, curling and twisting until he found the spot that made your mouth open from pleasure. Bet and all, he wanted to make you feel good- to remember this moment despite who wins.

“You ever get eaten out when high before?” He asked between kisses, taking a brief moment to bite your thigh.

“N-no,” you whispered, trying to be quiet.

“Glad to be the first,” he teased, “I’d love to do it again if you want.”

“Y-yes,” you chewed back a moan, rolling your hips into his hand, “pl-lease.”

His attentiveness made your stomach swirl as he kissed the inside of your leg again, slowly trailing towards your desire. Folio pressed his tongue against your clit, flicking momentarily to match the pace of his fingers, before latching his mouth around you.

“Fuck, I love how soaked you are. All for me?”

Mumbling a confirmation, you covered your mouth with your hand, afraid of the ungodly sounds that fought from your chest.

As your head fell back into the mirror you couldn’t help but rut your hips into his mouth, seconds away from an orgasm as the tension in your abdomen built.

“Ohmygodnick,” you mumbled behind your hand, brows furrowed as your eyes squeezed shut while he ate you out feverishly.

You hadn’t noticed how Folio’s other hand held his arousal free from his pants, jerking himself as he devoured your body, hungry for your release and his.

You cried his name as his tongue pressed against you firmly, body shaking against his mouth while you reached your orgasm, fingers pulling his hair.

Folio was seconds behind, the sound of your muffled moans pushing him to his climax as he came all over the floor and his hand.

Pulling his mouth from your body he smiled up at you, lips wet from your release. He stood up, and you noticed his mess, smiling lustfully at him.

“That’s so hot,” you whispered, to which he laughed, the two of you now in a fit of giggles.

“Yeah?” He lifted you off the counter, pulling you forward to kiss him. The taste of you on his tongue elicited another small moan, his hand reaching down to squeeze your ass again.

Folio then cleaned you up, then himself, before holding you in a hug.

His arms were tightly wrapped around you, almost afraid to let go. You melted into him, heart racing with pure want and need.

“Whatever happens, just know how much I care about you alright?” He said, his words lingering.

You nodded, unsure what he meant about “whatever happens”.

But somehow, you knew it had something to do with all of them.

=

Two days later, the boys were sitting on the bus, bored. As much as they had enjoyed their days off, the anticipation of the next show always ate away at their nerves.

Jolly and Ruffilo were watching YouTube videos on the couch while Folio lay upside down in the chair, chucking a rubber ball at the vinyl wall.

Noah's ears rang with each throw, the thunk on the wall driving him crazy.

“Can you cut it out?” Noah mumbled, glaring daggers at Folio.

He stopped, raising an accusative brow, “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Folio knew, but didn’t want to say anything- yet Jolly spoke for him.

“He’s just pissed he hasn’t gotten a chance with Y/N yet. Admit it, Noah, you’re gonna lose.” Jolly teased.

Noah held up his middle finger, causing the swede to chuckle as he responded.

“Better make a move sooner than later. Even I think Folio’s got a better chance at winning, as annoying as that is.”

The words made Noah’s skin crawl as Folio beamed beside him, throwing the ball against the wall once again just to spite the singer.

Noah had noticed how you’ve been staring at Folio ever since the aquarium; and shit, everyone but him.

He then stood up, frustration evident on his face. As the ball bounced back toward Folio's hand, Noah reached over to intercept, pushing it across the bus.

“Hey!” Folio snapped.

No one else said anything as Noah left the bus, slamming the door.

You were sitting with Matt outside, sharing memes, when you heard the door open and an angry Noah storm out.

Sharing a look with Matt, you stood up, watching as the brunette folded his arms in frustration as he paced in front of you two.

“Noah?” You approached him warily, worry evident in your tone.

His eyes softened when they met yours, but his arms remained stiff as he huffed.

He was frustrated, and for what?

They all bet on this. They all agreed.

However, the jealousy was starting to get to him, and he didn’t know how much more he could take.

“I’m fine,” Noah said sharply, inhaling quickly.

“You’re clearly not fine,” you said, reaching out to place a gentle hand on his arm.

Staring at you intensely, he melted into your touch- face flushing at your care.

“I just need a distraction,” he said, mostly to himself. But it was true nonetheless. He wanted a distraction from you, but deep down, he also wanted you to be the distraction.

Looking at your phone, you checked the time, seeing that it was still early in the afternoon, “Want to go see a movie?”

=

There wasn’t much to offer in the theatre, considering it was a random weekday. You decided to let Noah choose the movie, considering you were here for him.

To which, he purposefully picked some bullshit boring movie that nobody would book a ticket to since it was one of the last days it would be showing.

Walking into the theatre, Noah pushed you up the stairs by the small of your back, the feeling of his hand lingering on your skin as you sat down in the theatre.

Nobody else was in there, and you suddenly felt jittery that it was just the two of you. Both you and Noah sat in silence as the movie began- almost as if afraid to speak to each other.

The movie was immediately boring, and you kept watching as Noah nervously rubbed the tips of his thighs, his inked fingers gliding along his sweatpants.

Eventually, the singer grew the courage to place that hand on your thigh, making you jolt slightly from the contact.

Without looking at you, his hands crept slowly up and down your leg, warmth radiating off his skin. It was teasing, and you fought to keep staring at the screen ahead.

But you froze as the next words came from his mouth.

“I know you fucked all my friends.”

Something about the way he said it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and he finally turned to look at you, the movie illuminating his features.

His eyes were dark as they bore into you, “You saving the best for last?”

Your mouth ran dry, unable to respond as he patted his lap, holding your hand to tug you along.

Unsure why you followed, you did, placing a leg on either side of his hips, sitting in his lap.

He scanned your face for a moment, as if relishing in the position of your body above his, and to gauge your reaction.

All you could do was swallow thickly, your heart pounding beneath your ribs as his stare never faltered.

"What do you want, Noah?" You whispered now. Even after everything else with Jolly, Ruffilo, and Folio- none of them seemed to make you as nervous as Noah did in this moment.

With a quiet hum, Noah let his hands squeeze your hips before roaming up your body, kneading against your clothes.

The brunette stopped right below your neck, waiting for you to swallow again before lightly pulling you down to his face, mouth inches from yours.

His breath was warm as he spoke.

“I bet I can make you cum three times in this theatre.”

Shivering at his words, you let him take control.

Noah's lips brushed yours, but he didn't dare give you a taste as he dipped his fingers into your waistband, sliding them past your underwear and right along your arousal.

He only chuckled at the feeling of your soaked core, knowing that you’d fold the second he put two fingers inside of you.

Noah did just that, pressing his thumb against your clit as his inked fingers sunk into your body. As he pushed them deeper, his thumb began tracing rhythmic circles along your clit, while he held you up by your neck.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Noah praised, your mouth agape from the pleasure. Your abdomen clenched with need, quickly growing a need for release.

Within a minute, your body squeezed around his fingers while you cried as he pushed you to your first orgasm.

“Fuck, maybe I can get four in if it's that easy,” he grinned, pulling his fingers away from your core, out of your pants and toward your mouth.

He only nodded toward you, prompting you to take his fingers between your lips, licking your mess and gagging on them as you did so.

The brunette’s smile was radiant as he watched proudly, for a moment, only before pushing you onto your knees, right between his legs.

You knew what he wanted, and Noah had to stop himself from cumming right then and there at the sight of you sat between his thighs.

Pulling down his sweats eagerly, you gripped his hard length, leaning in to lick up from the base. You wasted no time in sucking along him, swirling your tongue and bobbing down his body.

“Fuck,” he whispered, pushing you down, thrusting his hips into your throat.

You coughed, pulling back up before sliding down again, using your hand to assist with what you couldn’t take.

“Touch yourself,” he said, sharing a slutty smile as he fucked your mouth, “use your fingers to cum while you suck my cock. I know you love the taste."

His confidence caused your brows to furrow as you obeyed him. You took your fingers and found the familiar spots along your desire, pleasing yourself as you knew best, to Noah’s words.

It was almost embarrassing how much saliva emanated from your mouth and onto his cock as you devoured him.

“You’re such a good girl. Jolly was right, you do give the best fucking head.”

Moaning at his words, you closed your eyes, gagging on him once again as you worked yourself to another orgasm.

Knowing that the boys talked about you to each other made your ears warm, especially now knowing that Noah would be talking to them about this.

With one final thrust of his hips, you pulled your mouth away from Noah, breath catching in your throat as you came again.

Noah smiled down at you with pride. He spread his thighs, still sitting, while stroking himself. Meeting your eyes, he made you turn around with the spin of his finger.

“I want to watch your ass bounce on my cock. So turn.”

Tugging your pants just below your add, his hands guided your hips down onto his arousal.

You relished in the feeling of how hard he was, and Noah’s groans sounded erotic as he pushed you up and down, helping you ride him.

He then held you still, using his hips to thrust from underneath momentarily.

Your third orgasm was approaching, the sound of Noah’s whimpers and curses causing you to clench around him in need.

“Fuck don’t do that, I’ll cum,” he hissed, pulling out and pushing you to rest over the railing in front of you. Noah stood behind you now, holding your hips as he thrust into you mercilessly.

"Would that be so bad?" You teased, pressing back against him to meet his cock.

He leaned forward, pressing his chest to your back while taking a hand to pull your head back gently, “Let me take you on a proper date tomorrow night, make you mine, yeah?”

Moaning his name you clenched around him and let your body convulse along his cock, letting your third orgasm wash down each of your limbs.

Noah’s breathing was erratic as he pushed you to your knees, holding your chin to his arousal as he stroked himself to his climax. Watching his eyes squeeze shut and head tilt back was erotic, causing you to clench your thighs together.

You took the tip in your mouth, swallowing his release with need, sucking until the brunette pushed you away from the sensitivity.

Getting off the ground, your chest heaved as the two of you stood in front of each other, eyes fixated in an exhausted yet needy stare.

There was no going back now- each of the boys had confessed their desires, leaving you a withering mess.

Noah reached for the back of your head, pulling you in for one more needy kiss, before grabbing your bag for you and pulling you down the stairs- leaving the movie behind.

He was completely silent on the walk back to the bus, both of you hand in hand. Your fingers tingled around his as your heart continued to race.

What was going to happen now?

Your mind raced with what-ifs, memories of each boy taking over the next.

When you two finally made it back, you heard Matt yelling from inside the bus. Before you could open the door, you stopped to listen.

“Ya’ll have a bet for her and didn’t even fill me in? Fucking pricks, I woulda had the best shot outta all of yall.”

Immediately looking over at Noah with a tight glare, he ran his fingers through his onyx strands with a nervous smile.

“A bet, Noah? Really?”

He nodded, just as the bus door opened, revealing the other boys.

They cursed under their breath as you folded your arms, shaking your head in amusement.

“So who won?” You pried, eyes lingering on each of them for a moment as their faces flushed.

“Definitely not fucking me,” Matt mumbled, annoyed. He stared at you momentarily before averting his gaze.

“I don’t think any of us did,” Ruffilo spoke slowly, looking at each of his friends.

Rocking on your toes you chewed back a smile, “Then I bet I can make you do it all over again.”

Part two

tags:

(i tagged everyone since this has all the boys in it :) if you want on or off the taglist, please let me know!

@thefallennightmare @xxkittenkissesxx @deathblacksmoke @nyxisnotok @anameunmusical

@sitkowski @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86

@whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13

@somewhere-diamond @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak

@darkmxgician @sprokat @thatchickwiththecamera @reyadawn @xserenax-13 @foliosgirl

@philomenie @illmakeyousaywow @nyxisnotok @wh0th3h3llisbucky @into-the-grey

[only-lonely-star]

First Dates with Curtis Gang !! (HCs)

(These might sound a bit ‘inaccurate’ to some, but I personally think everyone would be a bit nervous/shy on a first date as well as being more soft. I mean, it’s a date with just the two of you, trying to look tough isn’t their biggest worry lol. I try to keep everything as accurate as possible. I also tried to keep these as gender neutral as possible but I am a cis fem so I can really only see scenarios through my own eyes. I’m trying!)

Warnings - Just fluff, how I think a first date situation with each member would go

Author’s Note - I GOT THREE FICS COOKED UP IN MY DRAFTS WHICH EXPLAINS MY INACTIVITY !! ENJOY 🫂

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Ponyboy

He would lose his mind trying to make everything perfect. I feel he’s not the type to ask someone out without being friends or at least acquaintances first, he has to know you. He needs to know some of your interests, things you dislike - basics. He’ll curate the date and try to incorporate things he knows you’re into to create better conversation.

He definitely thought he was going to get rejected when he first asked you on the date. He mentally rehearsed what he was going to say for at least a week until the date planned finally arrived. He purposefully tried to look his best that exact day to impress you further.

Ponyboy would sooo take you out on a movie date ☹️. He would go for someone who shares similar interests as him - the love for movies a big one on his checklist. He would save up to buy tickets for the both of you to look good instead of just sneaking in. He might even bum Darry of a few cents to ensure he had enough.

“So… how’s about we go see a movie tonight? Tickets for two, on me.”

He definitely smiled like a complete idiot after the question was posed, feeling embarrassed already.

His biggest accomplishment of the night would be to ‘subtly’ hold your hand. He’s too scared to straight up grab it, so he would try to work his hand towards yours as the movie progresses.

He felt more mature than usual. A first date with you was probably his first date ever so it was probably an even bigger deal to him than most.

Johnny

He had his eye on you for a good while before he finally found the right opportunity to ask you out. I can see him watching you from afar in class or somewhere during school, sitting there and drowning in admiration. He would give little side glances with a straight face so that nobody would think he was looking your way. He is Mr. Nonchalant at its finest 🙁🙏🏻

He would finally break it to Dallas he’s got the hots for “some kid at school” and ask how he should make a move. Obviously Dallas would tease him a bit, only to give him tips Johnny would never use. “You go up to ‘em, tell ‘em where the date is - introductions later. Add a little kiss on the cheek and there ya go.” Johnny would probably force a laugh or something and make a mental note to do the exact opposite.

HE WOULD ASK YOU TO A DINER !! I literally can’t stress this enough, Johnny needs to be able to be a listener at times and the speaker at others. He would strategically plan this shit out and eliminate any other ‘typical first dates’ besides going out to eat. Conversation gets awkward? He’s planning to shovel some food in so you feel obligated to talk more. This gives him a good opportunity to get to know you more and ask for your opinions on the food there, which flavor of milkshake you prefer best, or small talk about school and things you may have in common. He’s such an observer and he’ll find lots to talk about when it’s just you two.

Similar to Ponyboy, he was probably so worked up about thinking of asking you on the date. I can see him picking at that little area of skin beside his nails while he asks you, giving you a lopsided smile because he felt stupid. He’d try to think of some excuse to talk to you before asking you out.

“So I was thinking if you, y’know… wanna get something to eat later…? We could go to that diner if you’re up for it.”

He would literally not stop smiling when you accepted the offer. Johnny would do a good job at hiding the flustered feeling pretty well, but hiding a smile that big is hard for him.

I honestly don’t see him as the type to try to impress people. He is who he is and he wants someone who will actually be interested in his normal self. I don’t see him trying to fancy himself up or anything along those lines.

During the date he would try to sneak as many little glances as possible without trying to show it. Obviously he finds you attractive if he’s desperate enough to ask you out, but he doesn’t want to seem too obsessive.

He’d offer to walk you home and be the bigger person even though he doesn’t like to roam around alone at night anymore. He’d be a little hesitant, but he wants to feel protective of some sort and what better what to show it than walk you home and keep you safe?

Dallas

Surprisingly, if Dallas truly has interest for someone he won’t be so bitter about it. He can’t control how his own personality is perceived by others, but he’ll surely tone it down a bit just for your sake.

Social anxiety is afraid of Dallas. He’ll be in the middle of the most mundane task when he notices you. I can totally see him at a gas station, filling up Buck’s car, or attempting to steal some cigarettes from a corner store when he bumps into you. Unlike the others, I feel as if he goes solely off of looks before personality. He’s so raw and isn’t afraid to speak his mind.

His flirting style is a bit aggressive but it surprisingly works half the time - if the attraction is mutual of course. Dallas would say some corny pick up line or straight up call you some pet name before posing the question. He’s definitely the persistent type for sure. If you turn him down he’ll try and persuade his way into the date becoming an official plan.

“Damn, baby - I forgot all about our date tonight,” while proceeding to show he’s checking you out, no hesitation. While you’re over there confused out of your mind, he’ll laugh to himself and attempt to get you to play along.

“I’m serious. Be over at Buck Merril’s Roadhouse at ten.”

I can’t see him doing anything cutesy or romantic on a first date. He’s like the opposite from most, he’ll save the sweet stuff until he’s comfortable and knows he can be more vulnerable with you. His idea of a first date is something he would most likely do with friends.

Dallas would invite you over to lay down with him and get to know your personality better. He’s not so excited to know all of your interests and desires yet, but rather how you are as a person and your morals. He’d probably try to put on a movie in the background while inviting you to share a blunt in bed. He finds conversation to be what reels him in most, and he knows the best conversations flow when high.

He would be such a tease the entire night. He would let small comments slip, even small touches and gestures to help ease you into growing more comfortable with him. He’ll make it his goal to have you wanting more and more of him - hopefully leading to more dates to come.

Sodapop

He probably fell in love at first sight and immediately knew the two of you would have chemistry.

I just know he saw you at the DX and waltzed right up to you with that big, charming grin on his face.

Soda is definitely more bold when he asks somebody out because he knows he’s handsome. Anyone in their right mind wouldn’t reject him.

“Name is Soda, Sodapop actually,” while he proceeds to introduce himself to you and converse for a few minutes before asking the big question. I feel he’s such a friendly and kind person so he’d definitely be good at making interesting conversation and let it flow naturally before he even attempts to mention a date.

“We should totally see each other sometime. Like - soon.” followed up with a sweet smile while he waits for your response.

I feel like he’s such a family type of guy. He would have to make sure you love his friends as well as Ponyboy and Darry only because he sees them as brothers too. I feel like Soda would have a big hangout with the gang where he invites you and weasels his way into claiming it’s a ‘date’.

I think of something casual and fun like a bonfire where you all chit chat and make s’mores, huddled up against each other. This seems more of like a fall/winter type of date but HEAR ME OUT!!

So of course, you accept his offer and head over to his place where you meet the others and accompany them while sitting beside Soda.

He would for sure tell them about you before hand and try to make them get their act together because he feels as first dates are more important than others. Leaving a good first impression is vital. “Just be cool, we’re gonna have fun, don’t embarrass me this time... please?” with a cheesy ass smile to seal it in.

STOP BC SODAPOP IS SUCH A KISS GOODBYE TYPE OF PERSON !!

Soda would try to get all cuddly and shit by the fire the whole night, progressively getting more bold. He would start with small compliments and smiles, moving towards looping an arm around you, etc. By the end of the night he feels like he’s made enough progress to get a little goodbye kiss from you, even if it’s a small peck on the cheek.

“Aw, come on, no kiss?” as he gently places his hands on your upper arms.

Steve

Steve seems like such a sweet guy once you get past the whole ‘tough guy’ exterior he likes to keep up. He would definitely have to know you a bit before asking you out, so I think you would be somewhat friends with him previous to the big question.

He lovesss people with that natural spunk so I can see him taking you out to some party for kicks. Nothing crazy, but some small venue where music is bumping and the two of you can just share a good time without having to worry about much else.

OKAY SO Steve is definitely more of a bolder type of person when it comes to asking someone out. He’s not shy or nervous or anything - more so expectant.

He gets a bunch of attention from all kinds of customers at the DX although they usually rush to see Soda first.

He gets a lottt of tips from Soda on how to shoot his shot and not get flat out rejected.

Steve would probably have been crushing on you for a good while before making a move. I can see the two of you are engaging in the gang’s typical activities, hanging out or chit-chatting in the lot. Steve tries to subtly have some alone time with you when he executes the big question. I just know he asked Soda and/or Dallas to help distract the others 😭

He’ll try and keep his cool even though he’s beyond excited to finally spill it. I’m talking like clearing his throat and uncontrollably smiling seconds prior.

“What do you say to maybe goin’ to some party with me come this weekend?”

All goes accordingly and here comes the day of the date. He’ll try his absolute best to look spotless just to further impress you.

He would offer to pick you up and everything as he tries to seem like a gentleman.

Once you arrive, he would break the ice immediately and take you by the hand to dance, not caring enough to waste time being stuck in that awkward phase.

I just know he would get so flustered when you come in close contact or have some form of physical touch within a specific dance. Steve Randle is touch deprived. He loves that shit.

During upbeat songs he would actually kill it and own the dance floor with you with no shame whatsoever.

Whether it’s an upbeat and groovy song or a more slow one, he’d make the most of every moment with you and try to make this night one to remember in hopes you’ll want to go out again sometime soon.

Darrel

Darry would be the best boyfriend to ever exist, lemme tell you right now.

He’s definitely a big family guy as well, so it’s not surprising he would want someone who’s willing to commit and have intimate and vulnerable moments with.

Since he’s 20, I feel this is a time for him where people his age start to forget about having a stupid high school relationship and begin looking for a serious relationship.

I’m getting ‘friends throughout teenage years, lovers as young adults’ kind of vibes from Darry. The two of you most likely kept in contact and see each other here and there since senior year ended.

Darry would have mentally prepared himself to ask you out for a date at least a week in advance after noticing he’s caught feelings for his high school buddy.

He was most likely pacing around and trying to script out his lines before he finally gathered enough courage to call you. Since seeing each other face to face is harder to get around with work and watching out for his brothers, he resorts to calling you late at night when Soda and Ponyboy are asleep.

He wouldn’t stall or try to linger on about the topic, he would get straight to the point, just like ripping off a bandaid.

“Hey, it’s been a minute since I last saw you and everything. How does a date sound? I’ve been eyeing that restaurant downtown for a while…we might enjoy it.”

I know he would be giggling and smiling nonstop after you accepted his offer 😭

Come the day of the date, Darry had saved up enough to make a reservation at the somewhat fancy restaurant he mentioned on the phone call. (It’s canon that Darry would most likely be a soc if it weren’t for the gang so I’m envisioning this date based off of that.)

He would so give you his jacket/blazer before he sat down on his side of the table. I’m talking like wrapping it around your shoulder type of thing.

The restaurant is definitely more fancy than the usual diner he’d buy some cheap fast food from, but not fancy like some banquet. He would try and make everything run smoothly by planning it beforehand with the booking, nicer outfit, and picking you up to drive you there.

During the date he would sit and admire you from across the table as you awaited your food, loving the sound of your voice as you rambled on and on. He would’ve planned this whole thing out, trying to come up with a date where you could get to know one another without having to do much else. The point of the date is to talk, not have fun and goof around - but maybe catch up on life together.

Two-Bit

He isn’t one to settle down and usually goes after someone on a lonely night or just for kicks. When he does fancy someone for a long period of time, he makes sure you know it.

I get a lot of ‘friends with benefits’ kind of vibe from him because he seems to be the friendly type who can get along with pretty much anyone. Since he finds you attractive and a pleasure to be around, you settled for this weird arrangement.

Weeks into this situationship type of bond, he realized he may want more than a casual flirty friendship.

He’s definitely bold too, like BOLD.

Two-Bit wouldn’t be shy or anything when asking you. I think he would straight up say something blunt like “Let’s go on a date. Sound like fun?” And then proceed to list date ideas to you.

HE WOULD TAKE YOU SOMEWHERE FUN!!

I can see him taking you to a car show or something and being able to crack jokes and show off his knowledge on cars to you. He brings the good vibes and fun, so even if the date doesn’t sound too appealing to you, you’re guaranteed to have a good time with him.

At the show, Two-Bit would definitely gasp and fawn over every pretty car and continue on and on about the make, model, and how unique the style of it is. He would make small comments and flirtatious suggestions just to make you smile.

“Like that one? Imagine all the fun dates we could go in that!”

Y’all might flame me for this but I think he loves hugs 😭. By the end of the date he would initiate a semi-long hug and smile smugly while you caved in and hugged him right back.

Also gonna get flamed, but he would call you cute names and things super casually. In the middle of a sentence he’ll refer to you as “baby”, or “darling” even though the two of you aren’t dating.

He’s a sweetheart deep down and yall know it. He would go the extra mile when he genuinely likes somebody. He would act a gentleman and share his interests with you. HE CARES!!

[thedemonofcat]

Could you make a angst story about bandits carving something like Witcher Whore/Bitch into Jaskier and him feeling bad about it? Not showing Geralt, until after the mountain they are in the hot springs in Kaer Morher and Lambert being an idiot takes Jaskier's shirt off.

Geralt had finally tracked down where Jaskier had run off to. Unfortunately for him, the bard had barricaded himself inside a storage room.

Geralt knocked on the door. “Can you come out? Lambert’s being a prick.”

A muffled voice answered from the other side. “You saw it.”

“I did,” Geralt admitted, just loud enough for Jaskier to hear. “If you come out and tell me who did it, I’ll handle them. I swear.”

Jaskier was silent for a moment before speaking again, his voice unsteady. “But it’s true, isn’t it? That I’m your whore?”

The words stunned Geralt. He recovered quickly. “That’s not true,” he said, voice firm. “We don’t even have sex.”

A weak laugh filtered through the door. “Some lousy whore I am, then,” Jaskier murmured. “I come at your beck and call and can’t even do the sex part. Instead, I just shovel shit.”

His voice wavered, and Geralt could hear the threat of tears.

[peachbubbless]

An SBR request! Could we have Johnny bring around a reader with Keratosis Pilaris? Aka strawberry skin, they look similar to bug bites! Btw I absolutely love your writing, I’m falling for characters I hadn’t even paid full attention to before!

YOUR MIND - astounding. The things you’ve done for the Johnny Joestar community 🙏 I have KP myself and suddenly love it a lot more! I'm so glad you enjoy my writing my love, hope you enjoy this one too, it’s such a fun premise! <333

Strawberry skin – Johnny Joestar x Reader

Sexual themes | Word count - 1676 | Day 2 SBR fanfic Week

It hadn’t been a plan.

Not at first.

After the Steel Ball Run ended, after the winners were named and the dead were not, it turned out no one really knew what to do with themselves.

You hadn’t expected to survive, much less to have to figure out what came after. You’d ridden halfway across a continent for a reason that didn’t even make sense anymore. Salvation, maybe. Or spite. Some days it was hard to tell the difference.

But when it was over, your name wasn’t in the papers. There was no parade. No epilogue written in gold.

Just bruises, half-healed wounds you still didn’t like to talk about, and a quiet life with Johnny Joestar.

“You don’t have to go back,” he’d said, not quite looking at you.

“There’s room at the ranch. I could use the help.”

You knew what he meant. You both did. It wasn’t about chores. It wasn’t even about the room.

It was about not being alone.

He hadn’t wanted to ask. You hadn’t wanted to say yes.

But here you were.

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere you were living on Joestar land, sleeping in the old guest room, and pretending it wasn’t strange that your post-trauma coping strategy included shovelling horse shit and arguing about who made worse coffee.

You weren’t together-together. Not officially.

But there were looks. Drinks together. Moments that lasted too long and silences that said more than anyone was willing to put into words. Something had started in the desert, and it hadn’t stopped growing. Not yet.

The morning was already warm by the time you started on the stables.

The air smelled like leather, grass and dust, the kind that clung to your skin no matter how many times you washed. The sky stretched overhead in that cloudless, uncaring way that reminded you of your race days - only now, the only thing trying to kill you was hay fever.

You had your sleeves rolled up and your pants cuffed at the knee. Not for fashion. Just because it was hot, and the horses didn’t care what your legs looked like.

You were halfway through mucking the second stall when you heard the slow crunch of gravel behind you.

“You get bit up bad or somethin’?”

You turned.

Johnny was leaning against the fence, arms crossed, his expression unreadable in that classic Joestar way. He wasn’t wearing the hat today. His hair was tousled like he’d run a hand through it and then given up halfway. There was a glass of lemonade sweating in one hand and a twitch of amusement in the corner of his mouth.

He nodded toward your legs.

“Legs’re lookin’ a little rough.”

You blinked. Followed his gaze.

Right.

The keratosis. Strawberry skin.

The skin below your knees prickled under his stare. Pale, red-flecked, raised along the surface. The sun wasn’t helping.

You dropped the pitchfork, wiped your hands on your legs as if that would help, and shrugged like it didn’t matter.

“It’s not bug bites. I have a skin condition.”

Johnny didn’t answer. Just kept looking.

“Keratosis Pilaris,” you added, like it was a spell that might end the conversation. “It’s not contagious. Just… ugly.”

Still nothing. Just the breeze. Just him, watching.

You tried to brush it off with a laugh that didn’t quite land.

“You can say it’s gross. I’m used to it.”

Johnny tilted his head. Sipped his lemonade. And then, slowly:

“I wasn’t gonna say that.”

Pause.

“I was gonna say something worse.”

Your brow lifted. “Worse than gross?”

He stared at you for a beat too long. Then looked away, like he needed to physically reset himself to say it out loud.

“I’ve only ever told one person this before,” he muttered. “And that was Gyro. Which I regret every goddamn day.”

You blinked. “Okay…”

“I have a bug bite fetish.”

You froze.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a thing,” Johnny said defensively. “A real thing. Don’t look at me like that.”

You were absolutely looking at him like that.

He kept talking. Too fast. Clearly spiralling.

“It’s not like - not in a weird way. Or not weirder than the stuff people are into now. It’s just - there’s something about it. The texture. The way it looks. And you’ve got that- look.”

You raised both eyebrows.

“Bug bite look?”

“Okay, that sounds worse out loud, I’m realising that now.”

You stared. For a long moment.

Then:

“You’re a fucking weirdo.”

Johnny grinned, all teeth.

“Takes one to move in with me.”

Your face burned hotter than the sun overhead. You rolled your eyes and went back to the pitchfork, jabbing it into the hay a little harder than necessary.

“You need therapy.”

“I had therapy. He quit when I started talking about corpses.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“Well, neither is watching you stomp around in barn muck and somehow making it hot.”

Your hands stilled on the pitchfork.

Then, slowly, you looked over your shoulder.

“You wanna touch it?”

You didn’t look at him. Just kept working the pitchfork like you hadn’t just flipped the entire balance of power in the barn. Straw and whatever-the-hell-else shifted under your boots while the silence behind you stretched dangerously.

“You serious?” Johnny said, a beat late and a little too casual to be real.

You didn’t answer right away. Just leaned on the handle like you had all day and zero intention of making this easy for him.

“Well,” you said slowly. “You’ve been staring at my legs like they owe you money.”

“I haven’t.”

“Johnny.”

“Okay but like - respectfully.”

You shot him a look over your shoulder. He was standing there, lemonade in hand, mouth slightly open like his brain had completely shut itself off from the rest of his body.

“You’re not exactly subtle.”

“I could be,” he offered. “But you just keep… existing. Like that.”

You gestured vaguely to the pitchfork, to the sweat, to the literal shit you were knee-deep in.

“Like what? Covered in dust and horse piss?”

“Like someone I absolutely should not be thinking about in this setting.”

“You need help.”

“I need to look - respectfully.”

“You are not looking respectfully.”

Johnny didn’t respond. Just sipped his lemonade in the world’s most suspicious silence.

You raised an eyebrow. “You thinking about it?”

“I’m trying not to,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m failing.”

You couldn’t help it - you grinned.

“It’s just skin, Joestar.”

“No. That’s like - fuckin’ - limited edition.”

You nearly dropped the pitchfork.

“Limited - what? Are you mad?!”

“I’m just saying!” he blurted, face pink. “You’ve got that… deluxe model skin!”

You wheezed.

“You are so goddamn weird.”

“You offered!” he reminded you, voice cracking halfway through the sentence like his vocal cords had just tried to file a protest.

You tilted your head, still grinning.

“So…?”

He stood there. Glass still in hand. Eyes firmly planted somewhere below your knees like they were trying to manifest a deeper meaning from your skin texture.

“I want to,” he admitted, and he sounded uncomfortably sincere about it.

“But?”

“I don’t wanna get slammed in the jaw while you’re holding that pitchfork.”

You stepped closer. Just enough for your foot to bump lightly against his boot.

“Then don’t be weird about it.”

“It’s already weird.”

“Okay, but like - don’t be gross about it.”

Johnny looked you dead in the eye.

“I make no promises.” 

Johnny looked like you’d handed him something delicate, forbidden, and weirdly exciting.

“I’m gonna… just - yeah,” he mumbled, reaching out like your shin was booby-trapped.

You didn’t move. You also didn’t help.

He finally touched it - just a light brush of fingers along the skin, slow and cautious, like you might retract your leg and kick him in the jaw at any moment.

“Huh,” he breathed.

You raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“It’s… soft,” he said, surprised like you were some kind of rare terrain.

“Wow. Crazy how skin works.”

“No, but like - textured. In a cool way.”

“You’re describing me like a countertop.”

His lips twitched.

“A countertop…” he repeated, like he was testing the flavour of the word.

Then he looked up at you, slow and unmistakably up to something.

“You’re giving me ideas.”

You pointed the pitchfork at his chest without missing a beat.

“Finish that thought and I’ll brain you with this.”

Johnny grinned. “You say that like it’s not still on the table.”

You groaned.

He was still touching your leg gently, like he was scared he’d be banned if he pressed too hard. You permitted it. Just for a second.

Then you stepped back, and his hand dropped like you’d unplugged him.

“Okay,” you said. “Enough leg fondling in the barn.”

“You’re cutting me off?”

“I’m cutting you off before you start talking about getting a second helping.”

Johnny squinted, obviously trying to think of something clever and failing miserably.

“I wasn’t gonna say that.”

“You were about to say something unholy. I could see it building.”

“I was gonna say ‘compliments to the chef,’ actually.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, already turning away. “I am not letting you simp for my legs in a room full of hay and horse shit.”

“That’s fair,” he said, recovering instantly. “But just for the record, I was being so respectful.”

You gave him a flat look over your shoulder.

“You looked like you were about for my leg in marriage.”

“Was gonna ask real nice, too.”

“Save it.”

“So, not never,” he called after you. “Just… not while you’re holding a pitchfork?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Cool, cool, cool. Hypothetically, if I brought you a drink and washed my hands-”

“Johnny.”

“Okay! Just checking. Later, then.”

“-I’ll clean the countertop.”

You stopped in the doorway.

“Clean it with what, your drooling mouth?”

Johnny didn’t miss a beat.

“Good idea. I did call you a countertop, didn’t I?”

[tgcg]

bad mouther, hole master

TG: kissing with tongue is gross as hell

CG: COME THE FUCK OFF IT.

TG: what

CG: I'M SAYING SHUT UP.

TG: oh

CG: IT'S NOT THAT WEIRD. IT'S LIKE THE NATURAL PROGRESSION OF REGULAR KISSING TO EVENTUALLY INCLUDE THAT. IF YOU HAD ANY SEMBLANCE OF ROMANCE GHOSTING THROUGH THE DEVOLVING REMNANTS OF YOUR THINKPAN YOU'D APPRECIATE WHAT IT BRINGS TO THE NUTRITION PLATFORM OF ANY CONSENTING CONCUPISCENT RELATIONSHIP!

TG: youre talking about it like its a goddamn military weapon or some shit

TG: some kinda scientific fuckin method to fondle a dudes mouth with your own mouth thats

TG: thats gross

TG: this isnt supposed to be a debate before fuckin congress on the pros and cons of getting your mack on

TG: its i would say a reasonably personal thing to react about and thats just my reaction man you dont gotta arbitrate it

TG: and like why the hell do they have to linger on it so long in these movies do they really want me to immerse myself in people necking each other that much

TG: roll the sounds around in my earholes like im swilling a fine fuckin wine

TG: well my professional opinion is that shit tastes and sounds mad gross and tbh i havent seen a single movie where it was close to being any kind of necessary

TG: its just a cringy waste of everyones time

CG: YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT, AND I DISAGREE WITH EVERYTHING THAT COMES OUT OF YOUR IGNORANCE GASH, YOU LUMP OF TIGHT-LIPPED CLUELESSNESS.

TG: did you just homestar me

CG: FOR THE SAKE OF ARGUMENT, SINCE YOU'RE APPARENTLY DESPERATE TO START SHIT WITH ME RIGHT NOW: HAVE YOU EVER EVEN DONE IT?

TG: hell no

CG: THANK YOU FOR PROVING MY POINT.

TG: proving your point--

TG: bro have uh

TG: have YOU???

CG: EXCUSE ME? HAVE I WHAT?

TG: come on

TG: i walked into this stupid conversation with a fucking shovel and by god am i digging myself a damn hole big and wide enough for every dave across time to squeeze in so i might as well get cosy in this shit before we all start collectively shoving dirt in our mouths

TG: bet your ass im taking you down with me though

TG: grab your spade and get digging man

CG: GRAB MY WHAT????????

TG: just tell me

CG: ???????!!!!!!!!

TG: karkat

CG: NO!

TG: f-

CG: WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!!!!! WHAT PART OF "SHUT UP" DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND????

TG: wait no

TG: oh my god dude

TG: you can spin that shit all you want but you can do it the hell away from me

TG: i do not need to be hip to your weirdo foursquare fantasies

TG: patently not my business

CG: STOP RIGHT THERE. JUST SHUT IT. I AM PUTTING US OUT OF OUR MISERY RIGHT NOW. I AM CONDUCTING AN ACT OF MERCY ON THIS INSANE FUCKING CONVERSATION AND YOU ARE GOING TO ZIP YOUR LIPS AND TAKE IT.

CG: HERE IT IS: YOUR SINGLE OPPORTUNITY TO PRETEND YOU NEVER SAID THAT TO ME. I AM GOING TO FORGET YOU MADE A COMPLETE MOCKERY OF ME AND MY CULTURE THIS ONE TIME. AND LET YOU CONTINUE TO DIG YOUR STUPID, SHITTY HOLE.

CG: AND DAVE, I AM BEGGING YOU NOT TO WASTE IT.

CG: TO ANSWER YOUR SHOCKINGLY INAPPROPRIATE QUESTION, NO I HAVE NOT DONE IT.

CG: WHO GIVES A FLYING FUCK.

CG: HAPPY?

TG: ……..

TG: way to defuse the situation solid work

TG: real gold star effort grabbin that lit wick and blowing on it

TG: ok first of all you asked me first so dont act like im the one being a weirdo about this

TG: second of all i didnt mean it like that and you know it

TG: THIRD of all what the hell was the point of engaging the knightly theatrics then if you cant even verify that shit

CG: WELL FUCK, SORRY DAVE! I GUESS I'M JUST A FUCKING ROMANCE ENTHUSIAST! I GUESS I GIVE A MAJOR SHIT ABOUT THE THING YOU'RE OPENLY MOCKING TO MY FACE! IS THAT SO IMPOSSIBLE FOR YOU TO WRAP YOUR THOUGHT SPONGE AROUND?

CG: AND IT WAS COMPLETELY REASONABLE FOR ME TO ASK YOU THAT, YOU CONGEALED FETID NOOKSTAIN! MY STATUS ON THE MATTER HAS LITERALLY NOTHING TO DO WITH THE POINT EITHER OF US IS TRYING TO MAKE.

CG: TRY TO KEEP YOUR NUGBONE FROM CAVING IN ON ITSELF WHEN I DROP THIS BOMBSHELL: I'M ALLOWED TO HAVE OPINIONS ON THINGS I ACTUALLY KNOW ABOUT, EVEN IF I HAVEN'T DONE THEM! I DON'T JUST GO TROUNCING THE FUCK ABOUT LOBBING MY UNFOUNDED OPINIONS AT PEOPLE LIKE I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT ANYTHING. UNLIKE SOMEONE WHO MAY OR MAY NOT BE INVOLVED IN THIS CONVERSATION WE'RE HAVING RIGHT NOW!

TG: youre

CG: I’M TALKING ABOUT YOU BY THE WAY. THE SOMEONE IS YOU.

TG: oh gimme a break

TG: bro youre going apeshit over something you havent even done

TG: you know what that sounds like to me it sounds like an overcompensating fake fan who doesnt get any

TG: you heard of troll napoleon complex

CG: AT LEAST I ACTUALLY FORMED MY OPINION BASED ON CAREFUL CONSIDERATION --

TG: -- oh yeah i bet huh

CG: -- INSTEAD OF JUST BANKING ON NUBJERK --

TG: -- not a real thing you just said

CG: -- REACTIONS AND WRINKLING MY SNIFF NUB AT ANY SIGNS OF GENUINE PHYSICAL INTIMACY!

TG: stop saying nub

CG: YOU EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED BULGEWAD

TG: not too much worse than being a perpetual fountain of emotional diarrhea

CG: DON'T YOU DARE.

CG: DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO USE THAT AS A "GOTCHA", YOU--… YOU! FUCK!

TG: dude did you actually run out of insults

TG: okay this is getting concerning

TG: youre the international dude of verbal dunks

TG: that can not be happening

CG: AAGHRJRGHJRGRHJAGHRJGRHJAGRHJRGRHJRGRHRJR

TG: you cant run out of em youre like the ultimate peddler of hate

CG: YOU DON'T THINK I'M CRITICALLY AWARE OF THE HOOFBEASTSHIT I'M SPEWING NIGH FUCKING CONSTANTLY?! I AM PAINFULLY COGNIZANT OF HOW MORONIC EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS!!!!

TG: feel like ive done some damage here

CG: ESPECIALLY MYSELF!

TG: alright bud time to calm down

CG: YOU CALM DOWN!!!!

TG: okay whatever!

CG: WHATEVER!!!!!!!!

TG: jeez

…

TG: here

…

CG: UGH.

TG: yeah

TG: really glad stuff like this happens in private

CG: YEAH. SAME HERE.

CG: JEGUS, CAN WE GO BACK TO BEFORE WE HAD THIS CONVERSATION? I DON'T ASK YOU MANY FAVORS, SO SURELY YOUR SLURRY OF ILL-DEFINED TIME POWERS CAN ALLOW YOU TO DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT.

CG: JUST LIKE, WIPE THAT WHOLE THING OFF THE SLATE.

CG: LET'S START OVER. SAY, FIVE MINUTES AGO. HOW DOES THAT SOUND?

TG: what conversation?

CG: OKAY, GOTCHA.

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER TWO

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya | lmk if you want to be added! wc: 7.6k notes: check masterlist for content warnings! honestly a pretty lowkey chap but it's strictly business 🧐 thank you for the love on chapter 1 🫶 i fear this chap and the next couple of parts are slow-ish but i've reread this literally a million times and im sick of it so what do i actually know. no beta we die like brian thompson

'Bueckers and Kennedy, Two Dynasties, Both Alike in Dignity'

College basketball fans are excited for what appears to be the end of the "Tess Kennedy Destruction Tour." After a quiet few days, the South Carolinian guard took to social media where she shared a photo of her and a faceless individual meeting for coffee. The Instagram story was captioned "and a new day will bring about the dawn," a lyric from Frank Ocean's "Sierra Leone." Supporters interpreted this as Kennedy's recovery journey taking a positive turn, but the song lyric was not the star of the show.

Fans were quick to point out the identity of the individual was not as hidden as it seemed. Kennedy's companion was wearing two notable necklaces - one with a silver cross and one with a studded #5. The phone case in camera was also purple with a wallet attached to the back. One commenter pointed out there was a University of Connecticut student ID poking out, and after review, we believe that much is true.

Early speculation declared Kennedy's friend was none other than Paige Bueckers, the star point guard for the University of Connecticut Huskies. Then, roughly an hour after Kennedy's post, Bueckers herself took to her Instagram where she shared a photo of her holding an icepack to someone's left knee. Both Bueckers and the mystery individual are faceless; however, fans noted Bueckers's companion was wearing a silver bracelet with familiar charms and a #25, Kennedy's jersey number.

All of the signs point to Bueckers and Kennedy spending time together, although nothing has been confirmed officially. One fan noted that Bueckers tore her own ACL the year prior, believing that Bueckers flew out to South Carolina to lend a supportive hand to Kennedy amidst her own recovery and hardships. Whether or not this is simply two friends rehabbing together or the most obvious soft launch in basketball history, sports fans are united on two things: Tess Kennedy is beginning to take her recovery seriously, and Paige Bueckers might just be the guardian angel people were calling for.

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

MAY 3, 2023

“So, lemme get this straight.”

Tess hums around a mouthful of Chipotle, feeling lighter than she has in weeks. Kamilla and Bree returned to their apartment roughly a half hour earlier and immediately put Tess on the hot seat. Once she made it through her countless apologies and explanations with minimal interruptions, she gave Kam and Bree the green light to ask their questions, and it seemed as though they had plenty.

Kam raises her fingers as she lists off the recent happenings of Tess’s life. “Because you went off a bender–” Tess frowns at the way it’s phrased, “–Amaya is forcing you into mandatory PT, therapy, and a shit ton of PR. Honestly, about fucking time.” Bree snorts, although some of the worry leaves her body. “If all it took was tough love, I woulda been meaner to your ass a month ago.”

“Don’t think it would have had the intended effect,” Tess concedes thoughtfully. She pushes around her rice and chicken, shoveling a pepper in her mouth. “I wasn’t really in a listening mood back then.”

Bree raises a brow. “And you were today?”

The injured guard shrugs a shoulder. “Well, when your manager tells you that your brand deals are about to cut their contracts, and you’re at risk for losing your basketball scholarship for behavior and academic reasons, and you’re slowly killing yourself…that kind of puts things into perspective.”

Kamilla nods solemnly. “And the Paige situation.”

Tess almost flushes under their scrutinizing gaze. She hasn’t forgotten. She has Paige’s receipt tucked into the pocket of her pants, unwilling to throw it away but also feeling weirdly vulnerable for wanting to keep it. It wasn’t a huge gesture by any means. Paige doing PT with her was objectively more intimate than buying her lunch, but the mere idea of Paige saying goodbye to her and sitting in an Uber trying to figure out what Tess likes in her Chipotle bowl is just fucking insane. “Guess I’m not single anymore…so, yay?”

“You’re taking this a lot better than I expected,” Kamilla admits hesitantly. Tess clocks the concern in her expression, like she’s thinking about her next step if she wakes up tomorrow and Tess is back to her old ways. That thought alone makes guilt squeeze at Tess’s heart.

Tess sighs. “It was like a wake up call,” she says after a moment. “Like those stupid ice baths Coach makes us do in recovery.” Kamilla and Bree crack a small smile at the joke. “To me, it was just easier to self-destruct than to let something else kill me. Basketball’s more than a sport to me – it’s my purpose, right? So after I heard I might not be able to play again, I just…let myself sink. And, Christ, people were so cruel online.” Tess huffs out something like a laugh, her throat tight with pain. “It’s funny ‘cause it never bothered me before, but… I just wanted to forget. I wanted them to hurt like I hurt. It was too easy to give into that.” The silence rings out in the living room as Tess searches for her next words. “I don’t think all hope is lost. Today helped me understand that a little better. So, I’m gonna try. I’m just fucking terrified it’s all going to be for nothing, that my knee’s never going to get better and I’m going to put myself through so much pain for a what if.”

“Okay, what if you never play again, but, God, Tess, what if you do?” Kamilla says slowly. “What if you do everything right and you get better and you can play with us again in March? I want that for you. We want that for you. Do you want that for you?”

“I mean, of course–”

“Then do it!” Kamilla exclaims, voice cracking. Tess blinks at her owlishly. She’s never seen Kamilla like this, ever, wide-eyed and desperate. It’s a near 180 shift from the girl she’s spent the last 30 minutes talking to, a complete and total shift from the girl who she’s shared an apartment with for two years. “Please, Tess. Do the PT, your therapy, get back on track; whatever it fucking takes, Tess, you need to do it. We miss you. On and off the court. I know it’s not about me, but watching you throw yourself away like that was the worst thing I’d ever witnessed, especially because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get through to you. I thought I was going to lose my best friend!”

Tess’s jaw falls open as the sudden realization of how badly she’s fucked up dawns on her for the second time that day. “Kam,” she tries, her throat tightening with emotion. The taller woman wipes her eyes, taking in a shuddering breath. Kamilla was never one to be mean, no matter how upset she was – that was a trait of hers that made her such a good leader and role model on the court. She was big on accountability and ensuring that past mistakes would never happen again. Seeing all of the emotion she kept under tight lock and key because she knew she needed to be strong for Tess (even before Tess was aware that she needed someone to be strong for her) is unbelievably sobering.

When Tess and Kamilla first met, they almost instantly knew they would be each other’s best friend. They were alike in so many ways – they were fierce competitors and proud haters of The Office; they bonded over shared struggles of not quite knowing what home was and being just a little too different from everyone else. Tess isn’t sure where she would be without Kamilla. She always prayed she’d never have to find out, but the idea that she nearly subjected Kamilla to finding out where she’d be without Tess feels both arduous and damning.

“Kam,” Tess says again, her mind reeling. “I’m so sorry – I’m so fucking sorry. If I could do it all over again, I would. I’m trying. It’s so hard but I’m trying.”

“I know,” Kamilla says, nodding rapidly. Bree is unnaturally quiet, glancing between the two of them with a conflicted expression. Sure, the three of them shared an apartment, but the bond between Tess and Kamilla exceeded friendship; they were like sisters. Bree knew that and it never bothered her. Now it seems as though she’s unsure where to stand, but she understands that this is a much-needed conversation that Tess and Kamilla need to have. “I know, Tess, I’m just – I’m glad you understand it now. Just… please, please let us help you. Don’t shut us out.”

“I won’t,” Tess vows. “I can’t promise I’m going to be at 100%, but fuck, I’m going to try.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Kamilla concedes.

The living room is quiet for a long while until Bree shifts uncomfortably. “So… PT and mental health counseling, those I understand,” she says. “I’m still a little lost on why fake dating Paige is good for your reputation. Rumors are rumors but…it’s giving new flavor of the week.”

“It’s not like that,” Tess argues, a little too defensively. Bree raises a brow and Tess immediately flushes. She’s not sure why that jab at Paige felt personal. She made a similar jab only a few hours ago. But it wasn’t her business to judge. People have their own reasons to do what they do, right? “Well, she said it wasn’t like that,” she amends, which sounds objectively worse. Tess frowns, wishing she’d just kept quiet.

“Hey, I’m just saying.” Bree raises her hand in surrender. “It’s her vice, right? Her free time is her own, but I mean, she’s Paige Bueckers. It’s easy to get caught up in her. I just don’t want you becoming another notch on her bedpost, even if you’re just fake dating her to make people forget you’re on Twitter restriction.”

Tess wrinkles her nose. “My account is unbanned now, thank you very much,” she deflects, but Kamilla’s knowing expression has her redirecting. “I understand what you guys mean, but you don’t have to worry about that. We’re strictly business.” Bree grins wryly, huffing out something akin to laughter that sounds vaguely like, ‘that’s what they all say.’

“Was the Chipotle strictly business?” Bree asks.

Tess’s face is a perfect picture of confusion, but her heart thrums a little faster at the insinuation. What could she possibly know about that? “What does Chipotle have to do with anything?” she asks casually.

Bree’s smirk widens. “You never order bowls. It’s always a burrito with you.”

“I’m trying something new!”

“Yeah, new like a six-foot blonde hooper–”

Kamilla and Bree break out into howling laughter as Tess buries her head in her hands, blushing again. “Oh, my God. You guys are the fucking worst.”

And, sure – the joke is at Tess’s expense, but she can’t help but feel like everything is aligning once more, that they’re returning to the way they once were pre-injury. She expected that it would have taken her a lot more groveling to earn back their favor. Tess was a huge jerk to them – the more she thinks about what she’d likely said to them under the haze of several shots of tequila, the more she wishes she could take it all back and do it over again. She tore her ACL, a season ending injury for many athletes, and for a smaller few, it changed the course of their careers drastically. Tess wants to find it within herself to have some grace, to understand why she behaved the way she did, but now that she sees it with a clearer mind, she can’t help but be disgusted by herself.

For Kamilla and Bree, it’s probably all water under the bridge. They’re kind people like that, perhaps too kind after the way Tess treated them. Maybe the real gotcha! moment is the idea that Tess didn’t need to earn back their favor, anyhow. Sometimes friendship just works like that – it’s confusing and a great risk, but most times that risk pays off. Sometimes friendship just is, accepting a mistake and trusting that it wouldn’t happen again.

Feeling lighter than she has in weeks, Tess retires to her room for some much needed rest after a long day. She lights a candle, settling against her headboard and adjusting the pillow cushioning her knee. Deciding to face the music sooner rather than later, she begins combing through her mountain of notifications and unread DMs. The apology from Caitlin is touching. Tess feels an odd mix of guilt and appreciation as she drafts out her overdue response: “thank you for checking in, been a rough couple weeks. the injury is not your fault but trust that SC will pick your pockets next year!!!” Caitlin’s own response is swift – a simple 'Bring it on' that Tess can’t help but smile at.

She sends similar responses to some of Caitlin’s teammates and the other college players who reached out. She even had a couple of pros expressing their condolences, which honestly shocked Tess. There was Napheesa Collier, Sabrina Ionescu, and A’ja Wilson – A’ja’s DM made Tess’s Gamecock heart beat just a little faster. She was basically South Carolina royalty. Having that kind of support in her corner fills her with an insurmountable confidence.

Her last post on Instagram was a collection of pictures following their Elite Eight win. The sight of herself from a month ago, healthy and glowing, nearly made her thumb falter as she flicked through the images. It was a simple dump – a couple of action shots, a fierce one of Tess celebrating, one of her setting up for a deep three. It was captioned “nowhere else i’d rather be.” That much was still true. She’s pushed it to the recesses of her mind, but instinctually, she can feel the deep ache and the yearn to get back on the court, even though her knee hardly lets her sleep through the night most of the time.

Her eyes fall to the comments. She knows she shouldn’t look at them. She’s practically memorized each and every single one of them. Her teammates’ comments live at the top, celebrating the win with her; under them, there are newer ones from South Carolina fans, offering prayers and support, confident in their belief that Tess will bounce back from this. She can’t help herself from reading the hate comments, either. Her eyes catch on one in particular. Their username isn’t particularly memorable, but it reads, ‘Upsetting to see how Tess has responded to a normal injury for athletes. It’s shameful that South Carolina has let this go on for so long. Grow up!’ 

Well, he’s not wrong. Tess’s response was a pretty terrible one and Amaya herself admitted that they made a mistake in handling the situation. Frankly, he should be proud that Tess has grown up! If she read that comment a week ago, she probably would have crashed out. The thought alone makes Tess crack the slightest of smiles. Before she can keep reading, a text message from an unknown number pops up at the top of her screen, inadvertently saving her from a doom scroll.

Yo How’d I do on lunch? It’s Paige btw

Tess fights the warmth she feels in her chest. Honestly, she would have guessed that it was Paige from the ego she can identify through the screen alone, but she saves her contact regardless.

i’m afraid to admit i prefer burritos but the bowl was a 9/10

Paige’s response is swift.

9 cause I’m the 1 you need?

Tess rolls her eyes.

9 bc there was too much pico and bc the girl who ordered it flirts like a 12 year old

That’s insane You KNOW I have better game than that

you have no rizz, just blue eyes and a bunch of nil money like joe burrow if he was a hey mamas lesbian

Gonna ignore that hey mamas comment just cause I fuck with Joe Burrow The Bengals don’t have nothing on my Vikings though

i think i just got the ick im not gonna lie

Are you a football hater???

i don’t watch men’s sports at all i try to protect my peace

Pause So no Lebron???

ok well obviously i’ve watched the NBA

You scared me Don’t say that shit again

why are you so high maintenance

Why are you so mean

someone has to keep you in check settling down, remember?

I think you could be a little nicer!

hmmm i’ll consider ok i decided no

Just plain evil

i need to get my kicks in early if im stuck with you again on friday

You invited me???

i don’t think that’s how that happened

Pretty sure that’s exactly how that happened Paige please come to PT with me 🥺 Please Paige

ok now you’re just being delusional i see how you’re forgetting the whole ‘tess let me buy your coffee 🥺please tess’

Chilllll Did your doctor check you for a concussion after the ACL?? There’s something wrong with your brain

be honest, are you a natural blonde or did you work really hard to be this stupid

Hard work always baby Also, wanted to ask if you wanna come to the airport with me on Saturday, be seen together I fly out at 11:30am so I think it would be good for us The story I mean

you gonna pay for my uber back?

Duh

paige i was kidding

I wasn’t No rizz, just blue eyes and a lot of NIL money, right?

you’re insufferable

So you’ll come?

don’t sound so excited but i will for the story

Of course See you Friday ma 🫶

Tess likes Paige’s message before shutting her phone off with a sigh. She needs a nap.

MAY 5, 2023

Friday arrives after a day and a half of binging 2 Broke Girls, independent physical therapy exercises, and lots of ice packs.

Tess slept like shit Thursday night, though she’s unsure if it’s because of the pain in her knee or because of how badly she wanted to haul her ass to the bar and order a couple of shots to numb the throb. She knew she couldn’t do it, no matter how much she thought she needed it – it was bad enough that she spent half of the night sweating through her shirt and chewing on ice cubes to distract herself from the slow downward spiral of her thoughts. Not addicted, she’d remind herself, nursing a cup with rapidly melting ice as she watched Max and Caroline put themselves in weird ass situations. Psychologically, no. Physically…who knows. Tess certainly doesn’t know what that means, but she’s not addicted, period.

Her first therapy appointment was scheduled for Monday afternoon. She just had to hold out until then. Tess hopes that she would glean something useful from her counselor, but she’s been self aware and independent enough for years that she’s usually good at identifying her problems, though slightly less efficient at figuring out what to do about them. Her typical coping methods included a casual mantra of, ‘Pitbull’s been there, done that,’ and running a couple of drills in the quiet of the gym. And, sure – it sounds weird, but the idea that she’s not the only person facing an issue is comforting enough that she wonders if it’s even that deep. It works most of the time and she’s able to shrug it off. She will admit there’s an eventual crash out one way or the other, but she prefers one big explosion over a series of small, ill-timed ones.

With nothing but time on Thursday night, her Google search history consisted of queries such as how long does it take to establish alcohol dependence and symptoms of alcohol withdrawals. Then, around 3am, she got distracted and switched over to TikTok where she scrolled through edits of herself, but that’s less important. She learned that establishing alcohol dependence usually varies from person to person (Tess hates when something ‘depends;’ why can’t there ever be a straight answer?). It’s less clear if she’s officially ‘addicted,’ but she will concede that after a month of heavy drinking, there’s a little something there. Which isn’t ideal, of course, but hopefully it’s mild at the least. It was only a month and people intervened early…ish – maybe if she sticks to recovery then she should be good and clear within a couple weeks at the most.

Google also informed her of the several symptoms of withdrawals, which usually set in anywhere from six to twenty-four hours after going cold-turkey on the drinks. The withdrawals explained, obviously, the need to ransack the liquor store, but also the restlessness, the slight headache she was nursing for the past twenty-four hours, and the perpetual stomach ache she couldn’t seem to get rid of.

She had some answers. So, things were looking up!

…At least they were until she got the call from Amaya at 9:30 as she was struggling to eat a bagel. Google also mentioned a loss of appetite, which Tess was less than happy about. Much like everything else about her recovery, she would have to force herself into doing a lot of things that her body didn’t want her to do. She’d get used to it. She lets her phone ring for a short moment before she sighs, accepting the call and putting it on speaker, greeting Amaya.

“Good morning, Tess!” Amaya chirps, unusually chipper. The basketball player immediately frowns, brows furrowing.

“You get laid?” she asks, unsure of what else Amaya could be happy about in her life.

She can almost hear Amaya’s eye roll from across the line. “No, not that it’s any of your business, though.”

“Boo.”

“Anyways, back to business.” Amaya clears her throat. Tess can hear the slight shuffle of papers. “So, I really liked what you and Paige did, soft-launch wise. The press is eating it up and so far, both of your brand deals are seeing a slight surge in activity. I’m guessing people are flocking to your accounts for raunchy details and seeing you advertise, um, really cool make up products and homework help.” Tess huffs out a laugh at that. “Good job. Also, Craig let me know you showed up to PT as scheduled on Wednesday and did really well. He said you and Paige worked really well together–”

“Stop,” Tess says, listening to the sound of Amaya’s smug laugh. “Don’t insinuate anything.”

“I’m not insinuating anything!” Amaya says defensively and Tess cracks a smile. “So, we just need you and Paige to keep up what you’re doing. Do the small things for a couple of weeks, then hard-launch. We’re going to give you guys most of the control over that. We want it to seem more authentic and less like two PR agencies trying to salvage their clients’ images.”

“Of course,” Tess says innocently. “She’s coming to PT today. Then I’m going with her to the airport tomorrow.”

Amaya sighs dreamily. “You’re such a wonder to work with when you’re being cooperative.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Tess grumbles, giving up on the bagel and tossing it in the trash.

“Alright, one more thing,” Amaya continues, “then I’ll let you go.” Tess hums. “I need you to draft an apology to post on your socials – and I know, it sounds corny, but–”

“You don’t need to explain why,” Tess interrupts softly. “I got it. I fucked up and I made a huge mess. I’ll email that to you Saturday night.”

Amaya is quiet for a moment, contemplative. “Thank you, Tess. And, hey, how are you feeling?”

Tess doesn’t answer for a beat, considering keeping her thoughts to herself, but she reminds her promise to Kamilla to not shut anyone out, so she sighs. “Um, not gonna lie, I didn’t sleep at all last night,” she admits. “My knee hurt and I really wanted to drink – but I didn’t! I binge watched TV and ate ice cubes. Probably not the best thing I could have done but it was all I had to work with.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Amaya says gently. “It’s gonna be hard for a while, especially when your injury is still new and fresh and you’re all over the place mentally. I’m proud of how you handled it, even if you think you could have done better. Don’t forget you can call that counselor, okay? She’s available at all hours for you.”

“I don’t wanna be a bother–”

“It’s her job,” Amaya states, before adding in a more mother-hen tone, “but she also requested to work with you specifically because this issue is close to her and she really wants to help you. So if you need help, call her. Got it?”

Tess blinks back the impending tears. “Yeah. Got it.”

“Listen, I’m proud of you, I mean it,” Amaya reiterates. “Thank you for being patient and doing this. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Yeah,” Tess says again. “Talk to you soon.”

Amaya hangs up with one final goodbye. Tess presses her head to the cool counter tile and takes a deep breath. She hardly has the time to think before a knock sounds at the apartment door. Already knowing it was Paige, Tess wipes her eyes and slips her crutches under her arms as she slinks towards the door and opens it.

“Mornin!’” Paige greets, far too cheery for barely ten in the morning. She’s holding two cups of coffee in her hands. When Tess glances down, she easily recognizes her coffee order. Then, a frown covers Paige’s face as she walks in and shuts the door behind her. “You good, ma?”

“Just a tough conversation with Amaya,” Tess says as Paige hands her the drink. She takes a long sip, feeling a little more regulated. “Too many feelings.”

Paige smirks at her. “I’m guessin’ she said the same shit my manager called for? ‘Keep up the good work and keep doing couple-y stuff?’”

Tess hums. “More or less. Oh, I also get to publicly apologize, so there’s that.”

The blonde raises a brow as Tess hands back the coffee cup so she can slip into her shoes. “You? Apologize?”

Tess swats her with her crutch, drawing laughter from Paige. “You’re such a jerk. I apologized to you on Wednesday!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you called me a whore,” Paige says with a dramatic pout. “Really hurt my women-respecting feelings.”

“Please walk me to PT and stop talking.”

And Paige does just that. She holds onto both of their coffees as they walk as Tess’s hands are otherwise preoccupied with her crutches. The silence doesn’t last too long before Paige is rambling about all of the questioning she’s getting from her teammates, and Tess can’t help but listen – correction, she has no other choice but to. Paige admits that she doesn’t like keeping secrets from her team, and Tess feels sympathetic enough that she gives Paige the go-ahead to confess their little ruse. Paige’s denial, however, is shockingly mature. “I trust them not to say sum’ maliciously, right? But you never know who’s listening.”

Tess shrugs a shoulder. “If you change your mind, go for it, okay?” she says. “This is our punishment. Don’t wanna fuck up your friendships.”

“S’all good,” Paige says. “Actually, they’re pretty happy about it. Aubrey thinks I’ll play better next season since I ‘got a girl.’”

Tess snorts. “Yeah, you’ll play better until March, then I’ll get cleared to be back on the court and I’ll drop 25 on you.”

Paige wrinkles her nose. “No way, ma. Try 2-point-5. As in 2.5 turnovers every time I guard you.”

Their banter continues until they reach the PT’s office. Craig greets them with an infectious grin and Tess immediately brightens. He helps her take the brace off of her leg and rolls up her pant leg, poking and prodding at her injury. After just a day and a half of actual care, much of the inflammation has reduced.

Craig walks her through some guided exercises, and much to Tess’s silent appreciation, Paige joins them, too. She has a charming smile on her face the entire time, tacking on ridiculous jokes at the absolute worst moments when Tess is out of breath from the stretch and when laughing feels like gasping for air. Paige is strangely helpful. She boosts both Tess’s morale, comforting her in the fact she’s not doing this alone, but she also has a plethora of tips on how to manage the pain and get a better stretch on the exercises. Her hands are warm on Tess’s knee when she adjusts her leg and the way it bends. Craig looks on with an approving nod, though he jokes that Paige is coming for his job, to which Paige huffs, “Tess don’t listen to me.” Tess can only roll her eyes at that, pretending like she doesn’t care about the way Paige’s hands massage the tension out of her leg.

When Craig steps out to grab his wrapping supplies, Paige stretches out her legs and reaches for her phone. “For the gram?” she asks easily, glancing at Tess for permission.

“Don’t call it that,” she grumbles, but nods anyway and pulls out her own phone. “You sound like an old person.”

“You sound like an old person,” Paige mocks, effectively lowering her age by a solid ten years, and Tess rolls her eyes in amusement. She slides a little closer to Tess, reaching for her left leg and draping it over her right one gently, locking their ankles together. “Good?” Tess hums, looking over Paige’s shoulder and throwing a thumbs up into view of the camera. “You’re so unoriginal,” Paige says, but she sticks her free hand in frame and presses her middle and ring fingers to her thumb, raising her index and pinky in the Husky salute.

“That’s basically a hard launch,” Tess says, though she doesn’t really care.

“Everything we do is a hard launch,” Paige retorts. “We got Instagram detectives, remember?”

Tess mulls it over for a second before turning to Paige with a mischievous grin. “You wanna break the internet?”

“Oh, now we’re talking.”

Paige posts her picture to her story, forgoing any sort of caption, and silences her phone. She gives Tess her undivided attention as she plots. Tess pulls Paige closer into her space, hooking her chin over her right shoulder and leaning against her. Setting up her phone at the right angle, she says, “Look to your left,” and Paige does so until her piercings, half of her low bun, and the slight curve of her jaw are the only things in frame. The lights glint off of the diamond studs in her ears – Tess has to resist a smirk at how obvious the picture is, but she quickly controls her expression, her lips drawing into a natural pout as she takes the photo.

“Got it?” Paige asks, tilting her head to look at the photo. A smile covers her face as she takes it in. “Tess, you’re evil. Everyone is gonna flip.”

“My notifications are going to explode,” she says forlornly. “This is the price I pay to be mysterious and sexy.”

“Mysterious, nah,” Paige says. Her eyes linger on Tess’s face for a moment before she breaks out into a grin. “Sexy…? Hell nah.”

Indignant, Tess pushes her away, sending Paige sprawling to the floor dramatically. “Asshole! What happened to those ‘women-respecting feelings?’”

“You just pushed me to the ground!” Paige cries. “Where are your women-respecting feelings?”

Craig walks in just then, his face morphing into amused confusion as he looks between the two of them, wrapping supplies in hand. “Am I interrupting something?” he jokes.

Tess tries to keep the blush off of her cheeks. “Paige is just being mean to me,” she declares. “Poor Tess Kennedy whose left knee doesn’t even work.”

“Bro!” Paige’s tone is exasperated, and it brings a smile to Tess’s face. “You’re full of sh–” Paige cuts herself off with a cough. “...Sharks. Full of sharks.”

Craig chuckles as he examines Tess’s knee one last time before nodding and beginning to wrap it. “Same stuff, okay? Ice it when you do independent exercise, keep using your crutches, absolutely nothing strenuous.”

Tess nods, thanking Craig and heading out with Paige at her side. Even though the PT combined with her lack of sleep the night before has left her exhausted, Tess is in a significantly better mood than she started the day with. It’s likely too early into her recovery to feel any sort of earth-shattering hope, but she can’t help but feel like she’s doing it. She has yet to attend her first therapy appointment and the light at the end of the tunnel is still ten months away, but it feels like she’s making it out alive. And for now, that’s good enough for her.

MAY 6, 2023

Sleep comes easier to her Friday night. The cravings returned in full force as she was getting ready for bed, but Tess was exhausted – she took a melatonin gummy and passed out, although her knee woke her up a time or two. She felt well-rested for the first time in a couple of days. The drinking numbed her enough that she was able to sleep, but the abrupt cut-off has her body in disarray. It’s a double-edged sword. Her body craves it, but every time she thinks about a drink, she’s so disgusted at the thought that she can nearly taste the bile in her mouth. While it makes the cravings subside for a moment, they always return. She takes Tylenol in the morning to ward off the impeding headache and chugs a cup and a half of water, feeling as though she needs to flush all the bullshit out of her body.

Kamilla and Bree are up early and the three of them mill about the kitchen as they prepare a light breakfast. It was a Saturday morning tradition for them, usually consisting of pancakes, bacon, and eggs and a lengthy conversation about their weeks or anything in general. They’ve missed out on it for the past month for…obvious reasons that Tess already nurses a lot of guilt over, but she’s keen on making up for lost time. Kam and Bree put her on bacon duty as it’s the least strenuous. She portions the meat in the pan and slides it into the oven as Kam and Bree bicker over their shared stovetop space.

It’s grounding. Tess contributes where she can, enjoying the peace of the moment and laughing along with her teammates when they say something stupid. It nearly makes her forget about her knee, about the guilt she’s working through as she continues to make amends. Part of her wonders why she’d ever resorted to shutting everyone out and losing herself when all she really needed was to just let them in. She watches Kam shout in indignation as Bree jokingly flicks a bit of pepper into her pancake batter, and all Tess can think about is how could she ever hurt those girls. She remembers her promise. Tess has let too many terrible things become a habit, but she refuses to let mistreating her friends be a continued one.

They all sit to eat and the chatter only stops long enough to pass around their bottle of maple syrup and the butter. Kam and Bree ask how PT’s been going, and Tess is honest when she answers. She’s only two days into it and more often than not, it hurts – but she knows it’s for the better. She doesn’t voice the worry that she might stop taking it as seriously once Paige is back in Connecticut. Tess was only partially joking when she told Craig she had an enforcer. Paige holds her accountable in a way she’s been trying to force herself into doing, but her mind is still such a mess that it’s difficult and all she wants to do is mope in bed all day. She knows Kam and Bree wouldn’t let her live that down and she doesn’t want them to feel like she still needs a babysitter.

They tell her that they're proud of her, and Tess feels the tears well up as she tells them to shut up.

“She’s so back,” Kamilla cheers, high-fiving Bree. “Our little ball of sunshine.” Tess can only roll her eyes.

Breakfast ends and Kam and Bree ensure that they’ve got the dishes. The clock on the stove reads 10:30. Tess knows that Paige is likely on her way. She hugs them both, promising to be back once she’s seen her off, and slips into her shoes just as a knock rings out at the door.

Paige’s brows draw into a dramatic furrow once they come face to face. “Damn, you opened this door mad quick,” she says. “Tryna get rid of me that fast?”

Tess cracks a smile, shutting the door behind them with the leg of her crutch. “The sooner you’re out of South Carolina, the better.” They walk down the hallway.

Paige sighs as she punches the elevator button for the lobby. “You’ll miss me,” she says, assured. “You’re gonna miss me bringin’ you coffee, DoorDashing you Chipotle, and making sure you don’t re-tear your ACL.”

“On the contrary…I’ll enjoy the peace and quiet.” Paige shoots her a dirty look and Tess can’t help but laugh.

Paige escorts her to the Uber she has waiting for them. She holds onto Tess’s crutches as she helps her into the passenger side backseat, laying her leg flat against the leather. Her foot nearly brushes the door. Confused and wondering what Paige is doing, the blonde shuts the door and rounds the side. As she settles in, she drapes Tess’s leg over her lap. “You good?”

Mouth dry, all Tess can do is nod, and Paige leans forward enough to instruct their Uber driver to head to the airport. Her palm falls flat on Tess’s shin, her thumb brushing against her leg, and with the way Paige stares out of the window, it’s almost like she doesn’t even register what she’s doing. Their ride is quiet, save for the driver's soft R&B that Paige bobs her head to. Tess slips her phone out of her pocket and snags a quick photo, flipping her phone screen to show her. Paige smiles at her wordlessly, knowing they shouldn’t verbally scheme in front of the driver, and Tess posts the photo to her story.

She refreshes her feed, combing through all of the shit she’s been tagged in from various college basketball update accounts and Instagram sleuths. She and Paige are the face of a new account named taigeupdates – which Tess is assuming is supposed to be their ship name? Given that the alternative is Pess – not that Tess has given it any thought, because she hasn’t! – she could live with it. The admin already has Tess’s story reposted and the comments are flooding in with many begging for an official hard launch since it’s already obvious.

Their driver parks in the designated drop off lane and Paige helps Tess out of the backseat, ensuring she’s stable on her crutches before she’s looping around to the trunk and pulling her carry-on and suitcase out. Tess can already feel the eyes on them, the hushed whispers of, “Is that Paige Bueckers and Tess Kennedy?” And despite years in the spotlight, she can’t help the anxious flush that creeps up on her neck. Having so many eyes on her makes her feel vulnerable enough, but combined with the fact she has a huge brace on her leg and she’s walking around with crutches? She feels uncomfortable, like she’s a pacing animal behind bars in the zoo.

“Ready?” Paige murmurs, stepping up behind her, pressing her free hand to the palm of Tess’s back. The touch comforts her slightly, but only because she’s accustomed to Paige right now and because they’re in this together. Tess gives her a solid nod, tightening her hands around the bars of her crutches. The blonde moves her hand down to her hip to give her a reassuring squeeze before placing it at the center of her back. Paige leads them into the airport, though she leans down, her mouth close to Tess’s ear as she whispers. “We shoulda talked about this earlier, but…what’s on and off limits right now?”

Tess swallows, trying to ignore the nerves. “Just do whatever feels right,” she answers honestly. “The media knows we just spent three days together, right? Don’t overthink it. I’m your girlfriend sending you off at the airport. Make it look like that and not two strangers trying to look the part.”

Paige grins insufferably at her. “Aw, I think that’s the first time you claimed me,” she says. Tess rolls her eyes, tempted to swat her with her crutch, but decides against it. The last thing she needs is Paige tripping and fucking up her knee even more. “So…nothing's off limits?”

“You wanna kiss me so bad you look stupid,” Tess says, nudging Paige with her elbow. From the corner of her eye, she can see the phone camera pointed at them, so she swallows her pride and looks up to Paige with a grin. “I think we should hug for sure. Anything else is too soon...like I said, we've spent three days together. I don't U-Haul.”

“Fine by me,” Paige says, looking far too comfortable as she walks through the airport. “Don't wanna do nothing you're uncomfortable with. Even if it would break the Internet. I know you like that shit.” Tess shrugs, but she was pleased with the media’s reaction so far. Between the two of them, Paige was definitely the menace and chaos-monger, although Tess enjoyed setting a fire once in a while. They finally reach Paige’s terminal and she leaves Tess’s side long enough to check in at the counter.

While she’s gone, a teenage girl approaches Tess with a shy expression, phone clutched in hand. “Excuse me, are you Tess Kennedy?” she asks.

“Guilty,” Tess jokes, leaning on her healthy leg.

“Do you mind if I get a picture?”

Tess shakes her head, saying, “Not at all,” as she moves to stand next to the girl. She angles the phone and Tess throws up a peace sign, grinning, and she snaps the photo. Before either of them can say anything else, Paige is walking back from the check in counter and the girl looks like she’s about to start doing cartwheels.

“Is that–”

“Unfortunately,” Tess sighs, which makes the girl laugh and Paige narrows her eyes. Remembering where they are, Tess smiles innocently.

“Can I get another picture with the both of you?”

Paige and Tess can’t resist. Paige rarely turns down her supporters in the first place, and all Tess can think about when she’s in these situations is all the times she’s ever met her idols and how it changed her life. Being in a situation to give back to the youth like that is one of the best parts about playing basketball. They pose on either side of the teenager as she takes the photo, and after quick hugs and a lot of gratitude, Paige and Tess are left alone.

Tess checks the time, realizing that Paige is boarding soon. The overhead PA confirms as much and Paige glances at Tess once more, hiking her carry-on bag higher on her shoulder. “You gonna miss me?” she asks teasingly, and Tess taps her chin, thinking.

“Hmm,” she ponders. “Not one bit.”

“You will,” Paige says confidently. “I got motion like that.” Tess rolls her eyes, unable to curb the warm fondness in her chest. She just pretends like it doesn’t exist. “Make sure you eat, alright? And go to PT. And be real with your therapist. Lemme hear you’re bein’ irresponsible and I’ll fly back down to set you straight.”

“Yes, Paige. Anything else?”

Paige shrugs, an easy smile on her face. “I know you pretend like you’ont like me, but I had fun with you. Even when you were mean.”

“Not mean,” Tess argues weakly. She can’t hide how touched she is by Paige’s words. “Just trying to keep your ego at a reasonable level.”

“Whatever you say, ma,” the blonde concedes. She opens her arms and Tess forgets all about the media, their story, whatever it is they’re supposed to be pretending to do as she wraps her arms around Paige’s waist. She could care less about the cameras, about the social media explosion they’re undoubtedly causing. Paige’s hands are warm on her back and her perfume makes Tess’s head spin. “Gimme a call if you need anything, I mean it. Don’t try to do this by yourself. Promise me.”

“Promise,” Tess vows. Paige pulls back ever so slightly, her eyes studying Tess’s face as her hands slide down her back, resting on her hips. Paige smiles at her and gives her a gentle squeeze before pulling away completely. She and Paige are both flushed, though the red creeping up Tess’s neck feels strangely like embarrassment.

“Call you when I land?” she asks quietly. Tess nods, forcing a smile, and they share their final goodbyes before Paige walks away.

Tess watches as she goes, suddenly hyper aware of the cameras and the crowd, and she holds back a sigh. She needs to get it together. None of that was real. She’s just a mess emotionally, touch-starved after a month-long crash out, and she’s letting it get to her head. She’ll feel more regulated after a nap and some stretches.

Hopefully.