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spoopydooblr · 10 months

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My King Will Be Kind Chapter 10 / Kendall Roy x OC

an: ummmmmmmm dont hate me i love you all sorry its been so long ://////////// but alas. THE TAILGATE PARTY! and yeah, its a long one. and YEAH there's some angst...

tw: cursing, lukas being creepy per usual, a wee bit of angst

The next morning, Kendall got on a flight back to New York while Stella stayed in Los Angeles for a few meetings. Her pilot was done and she was going to meet with her literary agent. The Delirium cast also wanted to get together for "Friendsgiving", but it was really just a photo op with food. Not that she didn't love a photo op, but the hot topic at this year's feast was surely going to be Stella's new relationship.

Most of the cast, including Stella, was relatively unknown before the show aired, so when one of them was in the news, it was always talked about. Her costar went on a date with Gigi Hadid once six months ago and everyone still talked about it. Now Stella was dating a billionaire and entrenched in his infamous, fucked up family.

Especially if Ken and Roman got the company...

Now that she was with Kendall, she really never needed to work again. They both knew that. But work was fun and Stella yearned to have her own success.

Unfortunately, that meant attending Delirium Friendsgiving. And about a hundred questions regarding Kendall. The worst part was, everyone knew she had been developing and writing a show, yet no one asked about it.

"How did you even meet?"

"I bet he has a giant dick."

"Did he buy you those earrings? I've never seen you wear Cartier."

She tried to answer honestly, because that was the best policy, right?

It was a little weird to be the center of attention, but Stella couldn't help her blush every time someone asked her a question about Kendall. Then there were the five shots she had taken.

"So, like, what's the endgame?" A costar's boyfriend asked her.

Stella froze. She had never let herself think of the future with Kendall because it didn't seem like there would be one. Sure, it was fun and they had a good time together, but would they really last? They laughed about their wedding, but did he actually plan on getting remarried one day?

But they were in love.

Love so sweet it made her stomach turn.

It wasn't just a relationship she could get over. He was going to be on her mind forever, driving her crazy.

After a lull in the conversation, Stella mumbled and excuse and ran to the bathroom.

Kendall picked up on the second ring. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, uh, I just wanted to hear your voice."

Kendall smiled, and she can hear that through the phone. "How's your friend giving?"

"Friendsgiving." She corrected him. "And it's good. I miss you."

"I miss you too, baby. I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah." She pauses, "I love you." The alcohol she had been drinking that night was definitely kicking in. Tears were threatening to fall.

"Are you, uh, okay?" Kendall laughed knowingly. "Are you drunk, honey?"

"God, I'm so sorry! I'm so dumb. I--"

Kendall chuckled. "It's alright."

"Someone asked me what our endgame was and it freaked me out."

"What the fuck is that?"

"Right!? So dumb."

"No, like actually. What is that?"

"Oh." She laughed. "It's like our future."

"Why are you scared about our future?"

"I don't know..ugh...I'm just fucking drunk."

"Well, when I talk about the big wedding I'm being serious, you know that, right?"

She blushed. "I know."

"Whatever you want, okay?"

"I know, Ken."

"The endgame is good, you got it? Fuckin, uh, to the moon."

Stella laughed. "I love you."

"I love you too. See you tomorrow."

---------------------------------

The next morning Stella was hungover as fuck, slumped over in her seat on the semi-private.

Even with her designer sunglasses on (thanks, Kendall) it was still way too bright. Thankfully it wasn't a full flight and Kendall insisted on semi-private travel, but when she landed, Stella only had four hours to get ready for the Tailgate Party.

Delirium Friendsgiving just had to be the night before the election.

Kendall had to laugh when she showed up at the penthouse in sweats and sunglasses, still wearing makeup from the night before.

"How was your night?"

Stella reluctantly pulled her sunglasses off. "Fun, but tiring." She wrapped her arms around his neck, breathing in his scent. It was getting hard to be without him and she didn't know what to think.

"The glam squad is here." He pulled away, chuckling at her disheveled appearance. Stella looked behind him, noticing that they were definitely not alone.

"I guess I should probably get ready." She turned, "Fuck."

"What?"

"I totally did not bring an outfit." Stella started to panic. It was at least twenty minutes on the subway to her place and then twenty minutes back--

"Well, good, because I got you one."

"Of course you did." Though she was disappointed in herself for not planning ahead, whatever Kendall got her was definitely nicer than whatever Zara pantsuit she had in her closet.

"I need to shower, too."

Kendall raised his eyebrows at her.

"We have less than four hours, Kendall. Absolutely not."

He leaned in. "I'll just have to eat your fucking pussy in the limo again, I guess."

"Rude!" She gasped. Pushing past him and to the shower.

"You'll miss me."

Four hours later, they were all glammed-out, driving through Manhattan in a fancy black SUV. Stella kind of expected some oral, but Kendall insisted on explaining the ins and outs of who was attending the party.

"And then there's Matsson." He grumbled, running his hand down her thigh. "He's the fuck that's trying to buy us out. The GoJo guy."

"Oh. Is he definitely coming?" Stella could barely picture his face. She remembered seeing him on Twitter. Matsson was some hot Swedish guy with a tech app.

"No, but I just have this fucking...feeling." Kendall looked out the window. "He always seems to show up where he's not wanted."

"And you said Shiv and him are kind of close?"

"Yeah." He breathed. "I don't know the details. They're like, fucking or something."

"Didn't you say she was pregnant?"

"Me and Rome think so. She hasn't been drinking and something is off and the whole fuckfest with Tom..." He looked up at Stella, who was frowning.

"I'm sorry your family is like this."

"I know. Me too. But like, uh, we're the Roy's, so."

"I get it."

"And you know as much as I'd love for you to be on my arm all night, I have some fucking, uh, business to do."

"I know." She ran her hand down his arm. "I'll make some friends. Maybe I'll hang out with Greg."

"Oh, God, please don't. That guy's a fucking leech."

Stella laughed, "Isn't he family?"

"Unfortunately."

She was quiet for a second. "Speaking of..." she slid her hand over his. "My mom wants to meet you. And my brother."

Kendall's stress seemed to melt away at her statement. "They do?"

"Yeah, I mean, my mom's having Christmas in Westchester next month and my brother is bringing his husband." She smiled. "My family's quite small but it'll be fun."

"And they want me to come?"

Stella's grip tightened on his hand. "Yeah, Ken. They're obviously a little confused, but they want to meet you."

The last time he had Christmas with normal people was when he was dating Rava, but Kendall didn't share that with her.

He didn't really know what to say. "Wow, Stell--"

"I know you probably have some Waystar party or family thing, but if you wanted a low-key Christmas, Westchester is available."

"I don't know what to say." Kendall gave her that toothy smile she loved so much. "It sounds amazing." He kissed her sweetly, "With the shitshow that is the sibs right now, I doubt we'll be doing anything for Christmas."

"So it's a yes?"

"Tentative. I'll text Jess."

"Of course." Stella laughed, but she was relieved Kendall didn't laugh at the concept of the Holidays with non-famous people.

They were silent for a few minutes, listening to the rap Kendall always had on in the car. Stella swore she could hear her heart beating. The car slowed to a stop at a fancy high rise apartment building. There were a few other cars around them, all with important-looking people stepping out.

"You ready?" Kendall asked, but her answer didn't matter.

She nodded, but spoke, "I still feel unprepared."

He grabbed her face gently and gave her a reassuring kiss. "It'll be good, Stell. Trust me."

Kendall got out first and held out his hand, as if she was making her grand entrance. In reality, there were only like four photographers, which really didn't bother Stella at all. It was a good launch. Not too hard, not too soft.

Cameras flashed around them, but Kendall kept his grip on her hand. He pulled her into the building as fast as he could, but obviously, pictures would be on the internet anyway.

"Well I guess you're my real boyfriend now." She said, following him to the elevator.

"Welcome to the good life."

-------------------------------------

"Oh, good, you're here." Roman said to Kendall, then looked to Stella. "And so are you." He faked a smile. "Playing trophy wife tonight, are we?"

"Nice to see you Roman."

"I'm not gonna lie." He said, "You've lasted longer than I thought. Weathered the Daddy Death Storm."

Shiv stood next to him. "Glad you're here. It's become a little bit of a sausage fest." She gave Stella a side hug.

Kendall smiled at her. He knew how much his siblings' approval meant. That being said, Stella knew the sibs needed their space.

"I'm going to get a drink. I'll see you later?" She said to Kendall.

"Yeah, uh, when things quiet down I'll find you." He kissed her. "I love you."

Stella blushed, knowing Kendall's siblings were right there and were listening.

"I love you too."

Stella walked off, looking around for a waiter. Though she was hungover, a drink was necessary to get through a night like this. Sure, she could mingle, but could she impress some of the most powerful people in the city? Her plan was to lie low and try to find Willa or, admittedly, Greg. They were easy to talk to and their opinions didn't matter. She didn't want to say the wrong thing to somebody important and fuck something up for Kendall.

Luckily for Stella, Willa found her first.

"Stella!" She called from the couch, beckoning for her to come.

It was a relief knowing someone at the party actually wanted to talk to her.

"Hey!" Willa gave her a big hug. "I was hoping you would be here tonight."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's nice having another...non-Roy...here."

"I get it. It's overwhelming."

"How have you been?" They sat together on the couch with their drinks. "I wasn't sure if you'd be back after the wedding."

"No! Your wedding was gorgeous, I was so happy to be there."

"We appreciated you staying." She leaned in. "Don't say anything. But Con was crushed."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"I wanted to say," Willa gave her a reassuring smile, like the older sister Stella never had. "We're in this together. Everything you're going through, I had to do too. This family is hard. You're just lucky you didn't have to meet Logan."

Stella smiled back. "Thanks, Willa. I really appreciate that."

"I'm also really impressed with your work. Have you ever thought about going into theater?"

Stella was a bit confused, but remembered Kendall's warnings about Willa and her play. "Uh, I never really--"

"Everybody. Welcome one and all!" Tom's voice squeaked into the penthouse. "Uh, Ken, take it away."

Stella giggled at how little autonomy Tom had at his own party, in his own apartment.

"Thanks, Tom. Thank you. Okay, welcome, everybody." His voice boomed through the space, unlike Tom. He had told Stella he was going to do a "small toast" at the beginning, but honestly she didn't know what Kendall's definition of small was. "All right. Who we got here? Who we got here?"

"Carly Flight. Oh, shit. All right, okay. The Pod Goddess. Everybody watch out for her. Careful what you say." He earned a laugh from the room. Stella was kind of starstruck that Carly Flight was there. She used to listen to her podcast when she was driving back and forth to Delirium shoots.

Kendall continued. "Larry, Mary. Lovely. Lovely to see you guys. Uh, who else is here? Who's here? Len. Len giveth and Len taketh away." The crowd laughed again. Stella's heart swelled with pride. That was her boyfriend.

"Watch out for Len. Uh, my guy, Nate Sofrelli, saw the polls this morning and moonwalked here." Nate Sofrelli...that was a hot button name for the family, if Stella remembered correctly. Ex-lover of Shiv and obvious enemy of Tom, but Ken had to shmooze with him big time that night.

"Our best to Gil and Jimenez." Kendall laughed. There was a beat before he cleared his throat. "Uh, we have another special guest in attendance," He looked around the room before his eyes landed on Stella. "My uh, very amazing girlfriend Stella is here." The room quieted as everyone looked at her. "Yes, you probably recognize her. Delirium is up for a Golden Globe, right?" There were murmurs around her. Stella blushed, unable to look anywhere but to Kendall. She raised her glass and nodded. What else could she do?

"She's helped me get my head on straight these last few months, because, uh, it's our... it's our first tailgate party without the big guy. But, uh, we're still gonna live it up. As always, kettle corn, over there," He pointed to a bag of kettle corn with a few American flags sticking out. "Will be shipped to whoever is closest to tomorrow's electoral count. And, uh... Yeah, this is a tough one. But, uh, we're all gonna stay sane, and we're all gonna stay friends. Yeah? Thanks to my sis for hosting." He raised his glass to her.

The crowd erupted in cheers for Shiv, who raised her glass back to Kendall.

"We didn't know what to do this year. Um...you know...we watch history. We make history, and then one day, we become it. So, can I just... I'd like to ask you all for a moment of silence, if we could, in memory." He bowed his head.

Stella didn't necessarily feel comfortable sharing a moment of silence for the man that was Logan Roy, but she kept her mouth shut. She didn't have to, though, because the door to the penthouse was thrown open, revealing a group of European-looking people. Leading the pack was a tall, attractive blonde man wearing a golden tracksuit.

Kendall faltered a bit, clearly thrown off by the presence of GoJo. He recovered, putting on a fake, welcoming smile. "Uh, it's okay. Hey, man. So, VIP in the house. Mr. Matsson, how are you? Welcome."

They traded a few quips back and forth, but Kendall got control of the situation quickly and ended the toast. Stella watched him stomp away, the Sibs on his toes.

Connor appeared, taking a seat next to Willa. "Roman just offered me ambassadorship to drop out of the race."

"What?" Willa looked shocked. "You can't drop out."

"I told him that the UN is more my speed." He looked at Stella and grinned. The man was truly delusional.

It made sense to her, though. Mencken was Rome's candidate, and the ConHeads were taking votes away.

"I think you should squeeze Rome for all he's got." Stella said. Not that she wanted Connor Roy anywhere near the UN, but watching Roman sweat and Mencken lose would be everything to her.

"I think you're right." Willa said. "Ask for more, Con."

---------------------------------

Stella left Willa and Connor to talk more about his ambassadorship. Maybe she could strike up a conversation with Carly Flight if she was able to get close enough. She weaved her way through groups of people, getting more than a few glances. Though it was Shiv's apartment, Stella kind of felt like the queen.

Yelling from downstairs peaked her interest. It sounded kind of like Greg, but he was...chanting? A frustrated woman with dark brown curls stomped up the stairs. Stella recognized her as one of Matsson's minions. The woman pushed past the crowd to the balcony, Kendall following her. Stella felt an anxious pit in her stomach. Her cheeks reddened a bit with jealousy. Why was Kendall chasing after an attractive foreign girl?

Stella shook it off, but Kendall definitely followed the woman to the balcony alone. Of course, it was probably business-related, but she couldn't help but worry. Though she loved him, he had a habit of going towards shiny new things.

Her half-drunken thoughts started to spiral when she heard her name being chanted like before.

"STELLA! STELLA! STELLA!" She looked down the stairs to see Greg and Matsson sitting with some other men. Shiv was right, it really was a sausage fest.

"Uh, hi?" Stella crept down the stairs, giving the group a nervous smile. Matsson had watched her descend from the stairs and now had looked her up and down.

"Kendall has good taste." His Swedish accent pierced her eardrums.

"Excuse me?" She something inside of her snapped.

"And she bites?" He pretended to growl. "Come sit."

The thought of Kendall and the GoJo woman flashed in her mind.

"Okay." She said. The only available seat was next to Matsson.

He turned to her and held out his vape. Stella smirked, revealing her own. She stuck it in her mouth and sucked for maybe a little too long. Matsson eyed her every move.

"I've seen you before." He said. "Delirium fan edits do numbers on my app."

"They do." There were millions of Delirium fancams and edits on GoJo.

"You watch them?" Lukas moved closer to her. "You like to watch yourself?"

"Maybe. I think I'm quite good at my job."

"I think you are too. But I think," he turned to his minion, "I think you could do better."

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"We're working on a streaming service--once we get Waystar."

Greg started to speak, but Lukas cut him off. "I think you could be a fucking star."

Stella bit her lip. It was a little much, but she kind of liked it. "You think so?" She obviously was shitting him, but still, he fascinated her a bit.

"I do."

There were footsteps behind him and he moved away from Stella at the sound.

"Oh, um, hello. What the fuck kind of crossover is this?" Shiv asked. It was a weird group, for sure.

"Hey! There she is!" Matsson exclaimed.

"Hey."

"Welcome to the kid's table!" He motioned to everyone.

"Can I, uh, talk to you for a second?"

"Oh, yeah. Is it time to up the periscopes?"

"Um, yeah."

"Sorry to break up the brains trust."

Matsson nodded, then looked to Stella. "My people will be in touch."

"Your people? Lukas what the fuck?" Shiv said, dragging him behind her.

___________________________

Eventually Stella was sitting with Connor, Willa, Lukas, and the GoJo woman, who introduced herself as Ebba.

Lukas was getting more intoxicated, and with Ebba clearly upset with him, he sat next to Stella.

It wasn't exactly her ideal seating arrangement.

"Hey superstar." He slurred. "How'd Kendall Roy land someone like you, huh?"

"Lukas." Ebba scolded.

"I mean, everyone wants to know, right?" Lukas said, his voice getting louder. "You didn't meet on Raya, did you?"

Stella stared him down.

"Or is it like a sugarbaby thing? I'd be into that, for sure."

"It's not--"

"Well it's definitely his billions of dollars, but what else?"

"Maybe because he doesn't wear ugly tracksuits and last season's Nikes." She spat at him.

"Again with the bite!" He said. "I like that."

"I'm sure you do."

"I know you think he's the future." Matsson whispered. "He's not."

"He is." Stella insisted.

"You think once I claim the throne I can get the queen, too?" Lukas leaned closer to her, staring at Ebba across the room.

Stella inhaled. A long time ago she swore to never let guys like him get to her.

"You fucking wish."

"I do." He turned his gaze to Stella, "You find me attractive, don't you?"

"Lukas!" Ebba shouted.

"I think you're a douche."

"Ah, that's not what I asked."

She didn't think of a response before Roman interrupted and started to berate Connor.

"Everyone in this room thinks you're a fսcking joke." He yelled, "So tell your "wife" to shut the fսck up, cover her shoulders, and pack a fսcking bag for Oman, okay?"

Kendall appeared behind him, putting his hands on Roman's shoulders. "Rome. Rome."

Roman shook him off, glaring at Connor. Connor exclaimed that Willa was the only one who believed in him and he was going to continue to run.

"You got my vote, a hundred percent, if I could vote." Matsson laughed.

Connor and Willa stormed off, leaving Stella and Matsson on the couch. She immediately got up and walked to Kendall's side. He glared at Matsson.

"Hey."

"Hey." She smiled. "How did everything go?"

"Uh, fucking, not sure." Kendall laughed. "I think good."

"Good." It was so nice to have him there, finally.

"How was your night?"

"Um." She looked at Lukas. His advances did kind of ruin her night.

"We had a great time, right Stell?" Lukas said, raising his vape.

Kendall's jaw tightened at the nickname.

Stella rolled her eyes at Matsson. "I'll tell you about it later, Ken."

Kendall tried to protest, but was interrupted by Lukas, who complained about New York. They traded sarcastic comments, drawing a small crowd of onlookers. Everyone wanted to get a piece of the action.

"But you, man. Your numbers. Exploding, right? Like, literally unbelievable."

"Well, thank you. Thank you. And congrats to you as well, 'cause I hear your numbers are gay."

"My numbers are... are what?"

"Gay."

They retorted more, but ended up hugging. Seeing Kendall hug the man who had been harassing her all night was the last straw.

That was it for Stella. She excused herself and kept walking, even when Kendall called after her. It was just too fucking much. She was drunk and high and hungover and wanted to go home. Lukas was creepy and Kendall was only in business-mode. Willa and Connor had left and Greg was bragging about firing Waystar staff. People were offering up ambassadorship like it was candy. Life was not supposed to be like that.

She walked out of the building and caught a taxi, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone. For the first time that night, she checked her phone.

Of course there were thousands of notifications, all about her entrance to the party with Kendall. They were official now, according to the media.

Great.

#kendall roy x oc #kendall roy x reader #kendall succession #kendall roy #succession

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zephyrrhiesfyrian · 1 year

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I've mostly shared visuals from MTMTE so far, but I've got quite a few quotes collected too.

[- Swerve] Damn. Fs in the chat for Bluestreak and Smokescreen.

[- Tyrest, to Minimus] I can't tell if this is sarcasm or not, and that makes it so much funnier. Best case scenario, at least he's aware he's got issues. Baby steps.

[- Lockdown] One of the most succinct roasts ever. And he's not wrong; Pharma's personality is incredibly grating.

[- Riptide and Skids] Don't bully him, Skids.

[- Megatron, about Tailgate] Me every day, girl.

[- Rung] Ladies (or anyone who prefers to wear women's clothing) get yourself a man like Rung, that way you don't have to worry about pockets ever again.

[- Rodimus, to Star Saber] I'm sure this is at least partially a Roddy ExaggerationTM, but the image of Star Saber showing up to the Circle of Light in righteous fury and the response to him is just confused laughter is burned into my brain.

Star Saber: hey, wanna murder all the atheists?

Dai Atlas: ...girl wut

[- Ratchet] I hope it doesn't.

[- Fortress Maximus, to Whirl] I mean, he's not wrong. Whirl does appall people.

[- Fortress Maximus] Again, I don't see why we don't just turn the Lost Light around and let Max beat the shit out of Prowl. I'd pay to see that. Go get his ass, Maxy.

[- Rodimus] Apparently we're in the "Prowl-bashing" section of my archive. Gotta love how Prowl flipping tables is just his thing and everyone knows it.

[- Skids] This is me and my amica when we watch our old home movies. The cringe is painful, but we can't look away.

[- Thunderclash, to Rodimus] This man is such a Rodimus simp, and I'm a Rodiclash simp. Thunderclash supports Roddy wholeheartedly >v>

And NO @slugsjunk this doesn't prove ANYTHING >:(

[- Minimus, to Tyrest] Minimus, you can't just ask someone why they self-harm. It's rude.

These are all the snips I have of quotes at the moment, but I'm sure I will return with more.

#transformers #transformers idw #transformers mtmte #zefposting #shitpost #comic captures #mtmte quotes #just because i think little baby insecure rodimus deserves some love and support doesn't mean we're the same person #if i was rodimus i'd never admit how pretty i think thunderclash is

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solesommerso · 2 years

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☆-September Project 28-☆

day 28~ panic

∘ ༺ ☆༻ ∘

victor tan x jim street

hurt/comfort

warnings: mentions of crime scenes, anxiety

a/n: this is from a wip I haven’t touched in so long and I can’t tell if I hate or love it

Don't be such a cry baby, you're in swat, shouldn't you be use to this shit!" The detective snaps in Tans face as he stands looking at a woman's disfigured body on the pavement, Victor has panic strike in his chest at the cops tone and he stumbles a step backwards.

"Don't talk to him like that!" Tans shocked to see Street step directly in front of his as Tan reaches a hand to wipe his face.

"It's unprofessional to cry at a crime scene, this isn't rookie days." The taller man grunts with his arms crossing over his chest.

"That doesn't mean anything, this is a horrible situation and people are allowed to feel things about it. Not everyone's a heartless monster like you." Tan looks to see the rest of the team standing cautiously around them as Streets chest puffs out.

"Also this is our crime scene now so you shouldn't even be here. You are no longer a part of this investigation and can leave." Streets tone falls formal as Hondo lets a small smile slip onto his face that he's quick to cover up.

"Why- I - fine. Don't come crawling to me when you need help though." The guy huffs.

"I'd never dream of working with someone so cold." The detective is scurrying away from the scene and Street turns around quickly.

"Are you okay?" Streets voice is so much softer than Tans ever heard that he's actually taken back- what takes him back more is the careful hands that are cradling his face. Street brushes the tears away with a furrow of worry on his forehead.

"Come on, they can wrap up without us, you should sit." Street’s urging Victor over to the back door Black Betty without even sparing a glance to Hondo or anyone else, just tugging on Tans shirt to keep him pressed to Streets side.

"That guy is wrong, it's okay to have feelings and especially when it's about something so gross. Never let them get to your head." Tan almost feels like a little kid as he sits on the tailgate of Black Betty and waits for Street to return from the inside that he's digging around.

"Eat and drink." He appears with a water bottle and small bag of freeze dried apples that are Tans favorite. Victor knows Street doesn't like them so he wonders a bit why he even has them.

"I need you to tell me you understand, nothing that man said was okay." Tan turns to look at Streets serious face when Street places a hand on his shoulder.

"I understand. And thank you, for defending me and the food." Street just smiles.

"Always. I'm gonna go check something with some of the patrol cops but I'll be back, don't go anywhere." Tans more than shocked when Street leans and kisses Tans forehead before bouncing away to the crime scene.

"Y'all saw that right?" The team approaches with a very confused nod.

"Definitely saw that. Huh. Don't think I've ever seen the kid that vulnerable." Hondo scratches at the back of his head while the team nods along.

"And he gave you snacks- I've never gotten snacks." Luca complains and Tan looks down to the un-opened bottle and small bag.

"He doesn't even like these, I'm the only one that does." Tan laughs a small bit at the apple bag as he turns it over in his hand a few times.

"Okay the patrol people got nothing from knocking on peoples door and- didn't I tell you to eat and drink?" Street completely stops the ramble he was preparing to give Hondo and instead takes the water bottle to crack it open and peel the bag open then hand it back to Tan.

"Street-." Tan goes to protest that he isn't hungry but Streets brow quirks up a moment so he just places a piece of apple in his mouth.

"Why does Tan get snacks but not us?" Luca groans and Street just climbs into the back of the truck.

He throws Chris a pack of Oreos, Hondo MnM's, Luca cheez It's and Deacon a honey bun. All with a bottle of water.

"Snacks for you all but Tan especially because he needs it more." Street sits himself next to Tan while bumping his shoulder to make Tan put more food in his mouth.

"Why do you have these? Where do you even keep these?" Chris marvels at the pack of cookies.

"I have them because you guys might get hungry and I don't want you to not have food. I keep them in my backpack which is usually in my locker but I forgot to take it off when we got into the truck so- snacks." Street smiles up at the teams now soft faces.

"You don't need to do that Street, we all eat on shift." Street shrugs to Deacon.

"Yeah but you're family so I want you to be well fed." Streets too busy opening his own bottle of water to notice the wide eyed looks the teams sharing. Family, that's the first time Street has actually said that.

"You're sweet." Victor can't even catch himself before saying it.

"Wha- wow- no way- no- I'm not sweet- I don't do sweet-." Street tries to defend himself but all the team starts to chuckle a little bit.

"You kissed Tans forehead." Chris points out and Street gaps at her.

"That means nothing!" Chris shakes her head with a laugh.

"Yeah okay Street. Totally hardcore forehead kisses." Streets mouth falls open at Lucas bright red face.

"I am hardcore asshole even if I give forehand kisses!" Tan stifles back his grin at how offended Street sounds.

"Sure Street, sure.” Victor leans to return the forehead kiss, only chuckling when Streets cheeks turn rosy red.

#writing #js #vt #jim street #victor tan #tan x street #september 22 fics

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outerbankies · 3 years

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new light part 7: take a ride — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

summary: you feel everything fall into place when you finally get to see rafe again, but he still has to try and fit into your world somehow.

pairing: rafe x reader

warnings: drinking, weed (omg!), swearing, a lil suggestive content

a/n: wowee this fic is getting looooooong. i think 2 more parts + an epilogue after this. i think. we'll see! say hello to a bunch of OCs with ridiculous names (i was having so much fun lol). let me know what you think of this one :) y'all know the drill but with s2 coming up just want to remind everyone this is not canon rafe cameron!

my writing

take a ride up to Malibu

The two months you’d spent apart from Rafe had been about as tough as you’d expected. Your boyfriend was attentive, calling and texting you (even though he hated texting, Rafe came around for you) almost every day. He was horrible at sending pictures, even when he demanded them from you all the time. You finally got through to him about how much you just wanted to see his cute face and he started sending you pictures when he felt like it, your favorite being the picture he made one of his friends take of him out on the golf course in the collared shirt you’d bought him donning your school’s emblem. Not to mention the picture Dylan had sent you of him with Rafe at a tailgate when their schools played each other in football. Your heart had nearly burst when your stupid little brother texted you, giving you his approval in his stupid little brother way.

Rafe is cool and if you break up with him I think I’d still be his friend

Don’t fuck it up

But no photos could compare to seeing the real thing, which you eagerly awaited as you leaned up against your white Jeep outside the airport in your college town. It’s a small airport just ten minutes from your campus, not many people around with only the one flight coming in.

You finally spot all six feet and three inches of Rafe Cameron, wearing the aforementioned golf shirt like a nerd. You know he spots you, because his pace goes easy, shoulders dropping by a foot and smile taking over his features. You attempt to play it cool, staying leaned up with your arms crossed over your chest against the hood of your Jeep. But as soon as you have a clear path to him, you really can’t resist. You step off your car to tug him into your arms as soon as possible, but it’s a useless gesture. Because Rafe immediately drops his duffel on the cement in front of your car, backing you right back up into the side of it. “Holy shit. There’s my girl. Look at you.”

“Look at you!” you squeal, knocking his hat off his head, running a hand through his hair. It was longer than it had been since you even started dating. It was definitely working for him. “Baby, your hair!”

He blushes at your attention. “I know, I know. You like it?”

Ever since Rafe made you binge the Fast and Furious series with him, his favorite, he’d been ticked off by how hot you found Paul Walker. He agreed to go as Brian and Mia for the costume party your roommate was throwing because it meant he could wear a shirt and jeans, Rafe’s only requirement for a costume. But when you told him it meant he had to grow out his hair so he could look more like Brian, he’d immediately complained. When you showed him what you planned on wearing, it was even worse.

“Why can’t you be Letty? She’s a badass. And she wears less revealing outfits.”

“Then you’d have to be Dom. Did you wanna shave your head?”

He’d rolled his eyes through the grainy Facetime camera.

“You can cut it off right after, baby,” you’d plead. “I can book you a slot at my salon.”

“Fine. Is it one of the fancy ones where they’ll wash my hair too?”

“Obviously. What do you take me for, Cameron?” You’d paused, looking at the picture of Paul Walker in the 2000s you had pulled up on your phone, comparing it to your boyfriend’s face on your laptop screen. “Am I pushing it if I ask you to use the sun lightener?”

You take his sunglasses off too, dropping it in the passenger seat like you had his hat, running your fingertips all over the lines of his face.

“Rafe, you look so good,” you praise. “You’re gonna be the perfect Brian.”

“I better, I wanted to cut it so bad,” he whines. “I can’t believe I have to meet your roommates looking like a hooligan.”

“Shut up, they’re so excited to meet you,” you say, hands resting on his chest. He still hasn’t let you off the car, his entire body pressed into yours like he’s trying to merge them together. Except you still haven’t kissed him, which isn’t acceptable. Rafe makes the realization the same time as you, hand sliding into the strands at the nape of your neck, slotting his lips over yours for the first time in months. “Minty. Did you just brush your teeth in the airport?”

“‘Course I did. So let me kiss you some more.”

“If you insist.”

“I do,” he murmurs, barely moving back from your lips. “Hi. I love you. My California girl.”

Your body thrums, you hadn’t heard those words in person since back in August at the air strip. You thought they’d lose their effect once Rafe started dropping them on to the end of every Facetime sign off, texting it to you (barely legible, along with a slew of random emojis) when he was a tad over-served, or recording it on your voicemail box when he knew you had a hard day, but couldn’t force himself stay up long enough to call you when you were off of work and he was three hours ahead. But damn, if hearing it when he was standing right in front of you wasn’t bad for your heart. “I love you, too. Missed you.”

“Missed you,” he agrees, arms coming around your waist to hug you so tightly he lifts you off the ground. “You drive a Jeep out here?”

“Of course. Doesn’t it suit me?”

“Everything suits you. Come here, I’m not done kissing you.”

—

Rafe watches in awe as you point out all of the sights to him, driving him by all of your favorite spots and stomping grounds on the way back to your townhouse. And he didn’t get enough of you at the airport, pulling you in for kisses at every single red light. His leg is bouncing up and down the entire ride over, and you knew he wasn’t used to being driven by you but you didn’t think you were that bad. But when he starts messing with his shirt collar and his hair once you pull into your neighborhood, you realize what’s really going on.

“How do I look?” he asks, opening your drivers’ side door and standing in front of it so you can see his entire outfit.

“Fine,” you say, accepting his hand as you get out of the car.

“Not too, like, kook-y right?” he asks, grabbing your keys from your hans so he can unlock your trunk. You sigh, surveying his outfit when he grabs his bag out of your trunk. You try to take it but he just slings it over his shoulder.

“You listen to your sister’s friends too much. And there’s only so much I can do when you show up in a pair of Sperry’s, RC.”

“I did not miss hearing that. And fuck. I knew I should’ve worn my Birkenstocks. They’re gonna think I’m so preppy.”

“You are, but so are they. Now c’mon.”

“Hold on.” He bends down to check his hair in the driver’s side mirror.

“Why are you so nervous?”

“I want them to like me, Y/n/n. These are the first friends of yours I met that I didn’t already know,” he explains, smoothing his hair every which way. “Plus, they’re way cooler than me.”

“I know I didn’t just hear Rafe Cameron say that.”

Rafe had been able to meet Davis and McCall over Facetime of course, always joining in with them to egg you on to go out when you just wanted to stay home and talk to your boyfriend instead. And you knew for a fact they were all Instagram mutuals.

“Go on, baby girl. Have fun with your friends. M’tired anyways,” he’d say. McCall would fake wretch in the background; Davis would fan himself dramatically out of view of your webcam.

“You did great with my parents,” you point out.

A look you can’t decipher flashes across his face. “Yeah, but that’s—”

“Just pretend Davis and McCall are my parents.”

“At least if it was your parents I’d have Wilbur here,” he whines.

“Oh, toughen up, babes.” You lean up to kiss him. “If my friends are cooler than you, does that make me cooler than you, too?”

“Yeah, but I already knew that.”

“But you still got me,” you preen, wrapping your arms around his neck, tugging him down slightly.

“You know this,” Rafe says, letting himself relax in your hold. “That was pure luck.”

“Mm,” you hum, connecting your lips with his once again. “For me or for you?”

—

You knew Rafe would be wiped from travel, the time difference not doing anything to help, so you promised you’d keep his first night in California low-key. He told you he was down for whatever, but you insisted on a night in, with just your roommates as company. Which was a tall order in and of itself.

Davis and McCall loved Rafe. Like, won’t stop texting the roommate group chat about how hot he was in person. Like, Davis following you to the bathroom to ask if you had anymore “southern himbos” that you could set him up with. Like, McCall drunkenly—low-key night in didn’t have to mean sober night in—banging on the door to be included, wrapping you up in a teary hug and saying how happy she is for you because he’s just so sweet. She hated the idea of you dating a boy from your hometown after what happened to her freshman year, but you could tell he'd won her over.

You’d accepted her hug but left them up there to collect themselves, coming down the stairs to find Rafe standing in your kitchen. He’s looking at your array of Smeg appliances, tracing his finger over the controls on your espresso machine.

“Coffee this late at night?”

He smiles in surprise, setting down his IPA on the marble island. You’d bought them just for him, a local brand of course. You had no idea what you were doing in the beer aisle at Whole Foods, but he seemed to like it.

“It’s a nice place, Y/n/n. California looks good on you.”

“It looks good on you, too,” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist. You felt like hadn’t been able to stop touching him for more than ten seconds at a time since he got here. Not that either of you mind.

“Everything okay up there?” he asks, nodding his head to where you ran off with your roommates.

You nod, yanking his head down to kiss his forehead. “You passed. Flying colors.”

Rafe sighs in relief and buries his head in your neck, flushing crimson from his cheeks to his collarbones.

—

“I’m biased, but I think they’re great,” Rafe says, a heavy hand coming to rest on the strip of skin of your hip between your jeans and your strappy tank.

“Mm,” you hum, pushing him back a little to twist and turn in front of the mirror. You were really excited to wear these vintage designers jeans you got from a consignment store downtown, but they were way lower of a rise than you were used to. They sat practically under your hip bones. You were committed to the look. “You think?”

“Yes,” Rafe says definitively, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

He nudges past you to fiddle with his hair in the mirror, and you cross your arms over your chest, smiling at his expression. “I can't believe you're in my bathroom. Also, I promise you look hot.”

“Take your own advice then, Y/l/n,” he counters. “Refill?”

“Please,” you say, chugging the rest of your wine and handing him your stemless glass. “You know what I’m drinking, right?”

He gives you a look in the mirror. “Don’t insult me. And when are we switching to Coronas?”

“Ew, Rafe,” you scrunch up your nose. “I only bought those for the pictures.“

He just smiles. “You are such a princess.”

“And?” you say, touching up your darker eyeshadow, leveling him with a look in the mirror.

He shakes his head, biting his lip. “Missed you, princess,” he says, kissing your head one more time before heading downstairs.

Rafe indulges your friends like a champ, doing the same greeting about ten times over. You begin to lose track of how many times he’s introduced himself after your third glass of wine, just plastering yourself to his side and looking up at him dreamily while he explains how the two of you got together.

You loved watching him like this, watching him make a place in your world out here. You’d really distanced yourself from the Outer Banks since you moved to school, so sometimes it was hard to reconcile those two parts of your lives. But having Rafe here in your living room, talking with some of the guys you’d dormed with freshman year—it’d never felt easier.

You have to remind yourself that you’re the one hosting him, because Rafe is always the one trying to take care of you and play that provider role. He doesn’t even bat an eye, navigating your kitchen to get either of you new drinks, taking pictures of you with your friends, slipping into conversations with some of the guys you and your roommates had invited over effortlessly—taking all of the flack they give him for being a southern boy in a fraternity. They weren’t his usual crowd, and you could see it wearing on him a bit. Even for a couple of Figure 8 kids, the group you fell into at college could be a bit extravagant. But Rafe was doing a good job of not letting it show. At least not to anyone else, but you knew your boy.

“You good?” you ask him, after the friends you’d been talking to walk off for refills.

“Yeah, baby girl. I’m great,” he says, using the arm around your shoulder to bring you into forehead-kissing distance. The cool condensation of his tequila tumbler brushes up against your shoulder, causing you to jump. “Sorry. Let me fix that.” He throws the rest of his drink back, setting his glass down on a table behind you.

“Oh god,” you laugh, and he just smiles mischievously, leaning in for a kiss that tastes like tequila and beer. You’d put up with it, just for him.

“Why’d that one dude look at me so weird when I asked what he was going into after graduation?” he asks. You furrow a brow, trying to think back to what conversation he was talking about.

“Oh,” you realize, laughing a little. “The one who said politics? Tall with brown hair.”

“Yeah, that was weird.”

“He’s a Kennedy.”

Rafe’s eyes widen. “Jesus christ, Y/n/n. Are Malia and Sasha here, too?”

“McCall actually knows—”

“I need another drink,” he tells you, letting you unwind from his hold. He looks around at the party, then back down at you. “Actually, you mind if I step outside for a bit?”

“Of course not. You sure you’re alright? I can come with you.”

Rafe shakes his head, smoothing a hand down the back of your hair and pressing a kiss to your temple to cut you off. “Just give me five. It’s warm in here”

“Okay,” you nod, letting him walk off, but not before giving his hand a squeeze.

—

Rafe steps onto your back patio to catch his breath, pulling incessantly at his shirt collar like he had been all night until he decides to just pop the first few buttons, sighing and taking a long swig of his drink. He almost hates that he loves the local beer you told him you’d picked up just for him. And maybe the thought behind it was part of why he liked it so much but, god damn. You didn’t even like beer and you managed to nail it. Good girl. His girl.

He’s frantically typing out a text to the boys before he can help it.

Rafe: Guys what the fuck

Rafe: Y/n is friends with a Kennedy

Top: Lmao

Top: Of course she is

Kelce: I told you bro. You were warned

It takes him a second to notice the other figure on the patio, hearing the slide of sand on concrete underneath their shoes before making out their figure.

“Hey man,” they say, and Rafe can make out a figure in one of the deck chairs by the fire pit. He recognizes him from meeting him earlier inside, some guy one of your friends had brought along, but can’t quite place his name.

“Hey, uh…?” he trails off, slinking over to sit in the chair beside him. This guy’s wearing a trucker hat and flip flops. Rafe immediately likes him.

“Wren.”

“Wren,” Rafe confirms. “Rafe.”

“Yeah, yeah. Y/n’s guy, right?” the guy says, connecting a Corona to his lips. Rafe briefly wonders if it’s the from the six pack you’d bought for your costumes.

“That’s me,” Rafe preens. If he cranes his neck, he can see you through the window in the living room. Cares about your outfit long gone, your hands in the air, wrapped around your friends’ shoulders. Life of the party, spilling love, light and laughter (and maybe a little bit of riesling) onto any patron you come in contact with. He could clock your eyes searching for him, he knew he had about seven minutes before he’d be found again. You were always worrying about him.

“Nice. Hey, good to meet you. Loved your costumes,” Wren says, leaning over for a handshake so firm that Rafe thinks about how it rivals Ward’s. Rafe looks over his casual attire with a pensive stare, and Wren laughs. “We’re supposed to be Brody and Kristin from The Hills.”

Rafe nods in recognition, even though he has no idea who that is. When you told him McCall was hosting a couple’s costume party just for an excuse to get with the TA in one of her classes, he’d assumed it’d be a sea of Jim and Pams and Hughs and Playboy bunnies. But he’d hardly recognized any “costume” he’d seen all night. And it felt way more like a Figure 8 soiree than any college party he'd been to.

“Your first time out here?” Wren says, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Rafe says. “I go to school in Georgia.”

“Sick,” Wren’s eyes light up. “What for?”

“Uh,” Rafe fumbles. This might’ve been the first genuine interaction he’s had all night, feeling totally comfortable and paid attention to in a non-condescending way. “Finance. For my dad, he’s got a development company.”

“Back in your guys’ hometown, right?”

“Yeah. What about you?” Rafe asks tentatively. He notices the lines around Wren’s eyes, the rougher look he’s got to him.

“Ah, I was at the CC down the road from the university,” Wren starts, taking another swig of beer. “Took a semester off. I like working at my uncle’s garage.”

Rafe nods, a bit shell-shocked by how this conversation with a guy he would’ve probably never given a second glance to back in the Outer Banks was by far the easiest one he’s had all night with your friends.

“How did you meet, uh… what’s her name? Sorry, been meeting new people all night,” he asks sheepishly. Wren laughs.

“No worries. Delilah. Yeah, her dad’s a long time customer. Said his daughter was coming in to get her brakes checked one day,” he says, readjusting his hat. He smiles fondly. “Rest is history.”

Rafe nods, eyes clocking you in the kitchen, crouching down and standing on chairs to take a zillion pictures for your roommates in their costumes. He sees you talking to who he now remembers is Delilah, she’s tugging on your belt loop and making you blush about your jeans.

“I know what you’re probably thinking,” Wren continues, noticing Rafe’s eyes on the two of you. “How did a guy like me land her? End up at these fancy parties?”

“Honestly, man,” Rafe says, leaning back into his deck chair, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been feeling the same way all night.”

“A lot of the people in there are… well. You know,” Wren laughs. “But Y/n has never been like that, at least since I’ve known her.”

“I know,” Rafe nods. “She's always been great.” His knuckle brushes up against the Zippo he has tucked into his jeans, bringing it out to flick it on and off lazily. He clocks the moments Wren’s eyes zero in on his movements.

“Hey, Hometown. You smoke?” Wren pulls a perfectly rolled joint from behind his ear. Rafe swears he’s never loved a guy more.

—

When your boyfriend re-enters your townhouse, his eyes are about five shades pinker than they were when he’d left. You catch Wren following behind him, who winks at you. You just roll your eyes.

“What’d you do to my boyfriend?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Wren says, but his eyes are just as pink. “Had to show your Georgia boy how we grow out here in Cali. Where’s Li? She texted me she wants to head out.”

“Living room. Thanks for coming,” you smile, pulling him in for a hug. You lock eyes with Rafe while Wren gives you a squeeze. Your boyfriend is just giving you the dopiest smile.

“Sure thing. See you later, Y/n/n. And hey,” he says, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I like this one.”

You just smile, waving him off.

“O’Connor, can I get a vibe check?” you ask, giggling as your boyfriend practically melts into you, pulling you to splay across his lap in a kitchen chair.

“Little bit crossed. Is that what they call it out here?”

“Yep,” you confirm, pushing his long hair back from his eyes for him. You were really gonna miss this haircut.

“Crossed. In love with you. Kinda in love with Wren,” he murmurs. “Lol.”

“Did you just say 'lol'?”

“Yeah. He said he’d never seen you as happy as you are with me,” Rafe preens. Totally gone, on an entire other planet. But his words still hit you straight to the heart. “Is he right?”

“About me being happy with you?”

Rafe nods, blush blooming across his cheeks.

You lean forward, kissing both of them. “Yeah, he is.”

“Wanna know a fun fact?” Rafe asks. You just quirk an eyebrow, standing up to lead him into the kitchen. He rests up against the island while you fill up your pink Hydroflask and get a cup of water for him.

“What’s that, babes?”

“He gave me another one. As a gift,” Rafe whispers conspiratorially, pulling it out of his shirt pocket. “And I think we should go upstairs, and smoke it in your bed while we watch The Office.”

“Then come back down?” you joke, already putting your hair up in the claw clip Rafe had let you attach to the bottom of his shirt for when you needed it. He was watching you with stars in his eyes as you twisted your hair up. He shakes his head, blinking his bleary eyes.

“No. Then we sleep. This top doesn’t look comfy though. You should change before we sleep.” He fiddles with the halter straps of your tiny tank, frowning down at you.

“C’mon,” you agree, knocking his hands away to start pushing him toward the stairs. “If we’re fast, we can pull an Irish exit. Straighten up.”

“Yes’m,” Rafe agrees, growing by about two inches as he stands up straight. His tall frame is cutting through the sea of bodies like a knife, and you just have to be thankful you can hide behind his broad figure while you skate across the living room floor, ignoring glances from your roommates and friends. “You’re gonna change though, right?”

“Yes, Rafe. Calm down,” you laugh, finally getting him to sit down on your bed. He’s haphazardly kicking his shoes off, his jeans ending up in the middle of the room.

“Just want you to be comfy. You can take one of mine,” he says, gesturing to his suitcase before sticking the joint between his lips.

“Cameron! Crack a window,” you admonish, half undressed.

“Oops, sorry, sweet girl. Going now,” Rafe says, stumbling to push your window open and practically rip his shirt off. He stares down at the ground outside your house, smiling at you with a joint in between his teeth. Hair a mess, cheeks flushed from the drinks, body bare save for his blue boxers as he leans outside of your window. You almost want to take a picture. “I think this wall might be easier to scale than your house back home.”

You rifle through his suitcase, settling on an oversized and faded black shirt. Smelled just like him. You make a note to shove it to the bottom of your hamper next time he’s in the bathroom. “Good thing we’ll never have to find out.”

“Mm, I don’t know,” Rafe says, holding the joint to your lips for you where you bend over the bed. “Might be a fun role play.”

“Jesus Christ, Rafe,” you giggle, nearly coughing on your hit. He just grins, putting the joint between his lips while you stand again to take your makeup off.

“Also, when are you going to get these blinds fixed?” he asks, gesturing to where your blinds gathered up to one side, the string sinched beyond repair.

You were a lightweight; it takes you a second to realize what he's talking about. “You sound like my dad.”

“Does your dad know anyone can just look in here when you’re changing?”

You smile at him lazily. “He gave me a number of a place to call and sent the cash for the repair. I just keep forgetting.”

“I can fix them for you,” Rafe says, joint still emitting smoke as he assessed your blinds, fiddling with the strings and slats appraisingly.

“If you want. Did you have fun tonight?” you murmur.

“Yeah,” Rafe says, a little quickly. You glance at him, your eyes growing heavier by the second, through the mirror of your vanity. “It was a lot. Your friends are intense. But I liked Wren.”

“Wren’s a good guy,” you say, coming to melt against your boyfriend where he’s laid down in your bed now. He still holds the joint for you as you lean back into his chest, body bracketed by his bare legs. “He and Li have been together forever.”

“Glad you have a guy like that around you out here,” Rafe says, reaching over you to pull out your laptop from where you keep it on your bedside table. “Set it up.”

“Mm,” you nod, the joint really starting to curl around your senses as you try to remember your password. Your skin feels on fire wherever Rafe touches you. But that might not even be the weed. “Baby—”

Rafe nearly moans. “How come you hardly ever call me that?”

“It’ll lose its potency,” you smirk. “Can you ash that out in the little tray on my windowsill?”

“‘Course. One more hit for you,” he says, handing it back over. Rafe ashes it out and then gathers you into his arms, clumsily walking you across the room until the two of you stumble into your en suite to brush your teeth, giggling at each other the entire time. You nearly burn your throat by taking a long drink of water when you’re done, Rafe just shutting his mouth in protest when you try to get him to drink some.

“For me?” you ask, straddling his hips. He rolls his eyes, taking the glass from you and downing the entire thing. He even takes a swig of your Hydro for good measure. “Thank me tomorrow when you aren’t hungover.”

“We won’t be hungover if we just smoke another J in the morning.”

“I invite you out here one time and you turn into a stoner,” you giggle.

“You're the one with an ashtray on your windowsill. Get under the covers,” he demands, shutting off your lamp and setting your computer on his lap. You oblige, squealing when he knocks the laptop off of his lap to get closer to you. He presses a kiss into your hair. “Missed this, Y/n/n. Missed you.”

You look up at him, the glow of your laptop illuminating his features. “Missed you.”

—

You’d be remiss if you didn’t notice the slight ways in which Rafe’s mood deteriorated over the weekend. He was more than ecstatic about most things; he loved seeing your campus, had bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet when you asked if he wanted to attend a class with you.

And he had actually gone out of his way to set up plans with Wren and Delilah after the costume party, blushing at the way you gawked when he’d told you he wanted to meet them at the beach.

So you thought you might be pushing him when you asked him to tag along for drinks with your capstone cohort, because they were by far the most uppity of any of your friends.

And no matter how hard you tried to escape it, you were seniors about to start the rest of your lives in a few months—all anyone wanted to talk about was post-grad. Rafe had pretty much leaned into it, and you wondered in the back of your mind what his motivations were. If he was comparing himself, if he was attempting to force the conversation between the two of you. Either way, if the look he’d given you when the sleek Uber XL pulled up to the back entrance of the lounge, and you’d dragged him through the private area straight to the VIP section without a second thought hadn’t been enough to set you on edge, the pinch in between his eyebrows as your classmates rattled off their post-grad plans definitely was.

“Google.”

“Harvard Law.”

“Interning for my uncle at the Hill.”

“I have offers from all of the big 4, just trying to decide for now.”

“I simply don’t work,” Davis says, sipping on his drink. You were so glad you could convince him and McCall to come along, to ground both you and Rafe.

“Oh hush,” you admonish. “Davis‘s mom is a designer and so is he. He’ll be at NYFW by spring.”

“What about you, Rafe?” your classmate, Meredith asks.

“Uh, my family has a development company.”

“Like, software? Are you in Silicon Valley?” Frederick asks.

Your boyfriend sucks in a breath, his chest moving against where your body is pressed up against his on the bench seat. “No, er—like houses, properties? Back in mine and Y/n’s hometown. North Carolina.”

“Rafe’s gonna be CFO one day,” you say, pushing some hair out of his face, smiling at him proudly. “If he wants to.”

“Ha,” McCall laughs. “As if Y/n would ever leave California. She’ll have you out here soon enough.”

So maybe you weren’t glad she came. You shoot her a look, but she shrugs, sipping her martini through a straw.

“Guys,” you chide. “That’s months away.”

Rafe’s quieter after that, saying less and less as the conversation goes on, not that any of your friends seem to mind. You lean into his ear about half an hour later, when he’s looking around for the waiter to order another round for the two of you.

“Just realized something,” you murmur.

“Hm?” he asks, one hand on your back and the other bringing the remainder of his drink up to his lips.

“If both of my roommates are here right now, then our house is empty.”

Rafe pauses, then throws the rest of the drink back, making you giggle. You’re sliding off his lap to sit on the bench next to him, smiling fondly at him as he tries to simultaneously wave down the waiter and open the Uber app on his phone.

“I’ve got the table,” he says, gesturing with the black card in between his forefinger and middle to your table of friends as the waiter comes by. “But we’re heading out, so I’ll let you run it now.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, buddy. You’re our guest. I booked us the table, I'll pick it up,” Frederick says. You can feel Rafe actively resisting rolling his eyes, and you squeeze his hand under the table. He definitely shouldn’t have said buddy.

“Alright,” Rafe says, standing from the table, hand held out for you. “Nice to meet you all.”

McCall and Davis just give you knowing smiles, and you can already feel your phone buzzing with texts in your purse.

You stop in confusion, bumping into Rafe's back when he halts you two at the hostess stand by the exit of the lounge. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a sec, sweetheart.” Rafe slides his credit card out again, telling the hostess which table your friends are at and that they can order whatever they want until bar close. You just smirk, hugging his arm to your body as he tugs your outside to wait for the Uber. “What?”

“You’re such a man sometimes.”

He rolls his eyes. “Because I wanna buy my girlfriend’s friends some drinks? No offense, but that guy’s a dick.”

“Remember that guy I told you about? I met his parents sophomore year?”

Rafe nods, frowning when you remain silent. “You did not go out with that asshole. I thought you said his parents were hippies?”

“They are,” you agree.

“Rich hippies?”

“Yep. But you’re kinda hot when you’re trying to prove yourself.”

Rafe forces out a breath. “Where the fuck is the Uber?”

—

Usually, Rafe can feel himself physically relax whenever he’s in your presence. He sees your smile and your eyes, feels your touch; anything he’d been worried or stressed about melts away. That had been his life all summer, his body practically melting whenever he'd see you after a rough day at work with his dad. He remembers one time, when he'd fucked up so badly—at least in his dad's eyes—that he'd sent him home from work early. Rafe had asked where you were, flipping a u-turn when you said you were taking a spin class at the Island Club. When he'd met you at the smoothie shop nearby, your ponytail bouncing on top of your head as you skipped up to him, it was like his day was starting anew.

And he’d definitely felt that way when you first picked him up from the airport. And he still felt it when you two were alone, after you finally shut your bedroom door for the night or when your roommates left the two of you alone for a little bit.

But for everything else in between—he’d been rigid. Every party, every club, and every interaction with your friends was just winding him up more. He hoped you didn’t pick up on it, because he knew he could play it cool when it mattered. And he really couldn’t handle a discussion about the root cause of all of these things he was feeling: his dad’s words that had been echoing in his mind for two months straight.

Like now, the two of you standing on the porch outside of Agnes and Beau’s—Rafe swears he can't catch a break.

Of course it was a gated community, a security guard smiling and waving you through once he saw who you were. You’d driven your Jeep up a hill to another gate, punching the programmed button in your car to open it. Rafe had white knuckled the roof handle the entire time.

“What does… what do they do again?” Rafe asks, counting at least six spots in the garage as you pull up to park.

“Agnes is an author. But Beau’s in real estate and development, just like you,” you say, hand coming to rub in between his shoulder blades.

He’s facing the double doors as the two of you wait when he feels your hand come up to thread through the hair on the back of his neck, heel of your palm pressing down until he’s obliged to look over at you. “Thanks for coming to meet them, Rafe. I’m—I really appreciate it. They're like my family out here.”

And Rafe’s softening at your tone, leaning forward to kiss you before he can even help it. “Of course, sweetheart.” But his nerves didn’t dissipate.

One door swings open, a flurry of ringlet curls burrowing into your legs, short arms wrapping tightly around your thighs. “Miss Y/n!”

“Hi Becks,” you coo, immediately crouching down to his level.

“Y/n, you know you don’t ever have to ring the door bell,” the woman in the doorway, Agnes, says. She turns to Rafe, resting her hands on her hips. “You must be the boyfriend!”

Rafe laughs awkwardly, peeling his eyes away from where Beckham is hiding behind your legs. “That’s me. It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs.—”

“Oh,” she says, waving a hand. “Call us Agnes and Beau.”

“Of course,” Rafe nods. “Thanks for having us, Agnes.”

“Please,” Agnes dismisses, stepping to the side to allow you both in. Rafe looks over at you, and you’re already holding Beckham on your hip, talking to him quietly. He ushers you in with a hand on your back, smiling at Beckham over your shoulder. The little boy just burrows his face into your neck. “I’ve been hearing about the hometown water polo boy for years now.”

“Agnes,” you whine, and Rafe knows if he put the back of his hand on one of your cheeks right now it'd be warm to the touch. “Becks, can you say ‘hi’ to my friend? This is Rafe. Can you say ‘hi, Rafe’?”

Rafe files away what Agnes says to tease you about later, focusing on the little boy you’re bumping on your hip. “Hi, Beckham.”

“Hi, Mistuh Wafe,” the little boy says, burrowing his head back into your shoulder.

“Sorry,” Agnes says, leading the three of you out to the backyard. “We have him in speech therapy for those pesky Rs.”

“Oh,” Rafe says, taken aback by her contempt. This kid can’t be older than four. “No worries at all.”

“Rs are hard. Where’s Barry?” you inquire, before Rafe hears water splashing in the backyard. You smile over at him. “Ah, should’ve known.”

“Why don’t you both go outside? I’ll bring you drinks. Y/n, I have a riesling you’ll love. Rafe, the same for you?”

“That’s perfect, thank—”

“He’s being too nice. Rafe likes beer. Or maybe one of Beau’s whiskeys?” you say, smirking at him.

“A polite guest,” Agnes winks. “I’ll pick something good for you, Rafe.”

“Whatever you have is fine, thank you.”

“C’mon, baby,” you say, and Rafe can tell you know what you’re doing. How can he stay mad when you call him that?

“Baby,” he parrots, voice dropping to a whisper by the ear furthest from Beckham. “You’re making me look bad.”

“Stop, you can do no wrong.”

“You’re right. I am the hometown water polo boy, after all,” he smirks.

“Oh, for the love of god,” you say, setting Beckham down when the two of you reach the grass. “You’re not gonna let that go for a while, are you?”

“Nope,” he says. “You talked about me to your employer?”

“Rafe,” you groan.

“Kinda obsessive, if you ask me,” he says.

“Ah, there he is,” a male voice says. Rafe looks over, seeing a tall man with sunglasses on and a sweater tied around his shoulders striding across the yard. Rafe almost feels like he’s back in Figure 8. “Y/n, introduce me to your boyfriend.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, grabbing Rafe’s forearm. “Rafe, this is Beau. Beau, this is Rafe.”

“Nice to meet you… Beau,” Rafe says, relaxing as he recalls what Agnes had said. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Of course, of course,” Beau says. “We love Y/n. We’re so glad to have her. Any friend of her’s is one of ours. Or boyfriend. Although, you are the first, son.”

Rafe can't stop the shit-eating grin on his face when he looks down at you.

“Oh my god. Anyways, let’s go meet Barron,” you say, already tugging Rafe away from the man.

“They’re just selling you out tonight, Y/l/n,” he teases, hand coming to rest on the back of your neck. You’d worn one of those dresses with no back like he loved. And it was definitely not an occasion where he could afford to not keep his hands to himself.

Seeing you around the kids and hearing how you’d talked about him to Agnes wasn’t making it any easier.

Another boy is standing on the steps in the pool, looking like he’s poised to jump in. But then he looks at the two of you, gasping when he spots you. “Y/n!”

“Hey, buddy,” you wave, standing at the edge of the pool. “This is Rafe. He used to be a swimmer like you.”

“Really? Sup, Rafe,” he says, moving his green goggles off of his eyes. Rafe used to have a pair just like that. “What events did you do?”

“U-uh,” Rafe stutters. “Well, water polo, mostly. I did 200 free for swim, though.”

“Me too! We should race some time. Before I go to the Olympics. Miss Y/n said I can go in 2028.”

And with that, Barron puts his goggles back on, jumping into the water.

—

It felt weirdly domestic to Rafe to be here like this, shooting the shit with Beau like he was some sort of established adult, watching you walk around the lavish backyard with Beckham following you around like a puppy. Barron was always asking you to watch him swim, even calling Rafe’s name a few times, too. He felt like the two of you were married or something, over at some friends’ house for dinner, playing practice with their kids.

You’d sent him plenty of pictures with the kids, the exclusive versions with their faces uncovered, which you couldn’t post on your Instagram story. Apparently, Beau’s father (and therefore, all of his descendants) was pretty important. You told Rafe that the NDA you’d signed when you started working was over an inch thick. But nothing could prepare him for how much he loved watching you with them in person.

“You know, I had a lisp when I was a kid,” Rafe says, eyes following Beckham across the yard. “But it went away after a while.”

Beau just looks at him oddly. “Okay?”

“I just—because of Beckham’s thing with Rs,” Rafe clarifies.

“Oh,” Beau says, nodding disinterestedly. “It’s not that bad.”

“Agnes said—yeah, you’re right. He’ll be fine,” Rafe rushes.

Beau changes the subject. “So, Y/n told me you’re in real estate as well. Or trying to be?”

“Yes, sir,” he says, sitting up straight in his patio chair. “My father owns a company, back in mine and Y/n’s hometown. I’ve worked there since I was fifteen. I’m finishing up school this year before I head back to get started.”

“Nice,” Beau praises. “What’s the market like back there?”

“Good, yeah. Although, it’s really all I know,” he realizes, as he says it. Beau looks at him questioningly, and Rafe switches gears. “Um, but I’m sure it’s nothing like you do out here. I mean—“

Rafe gestures to the house around them, Beau smiling proudly.

“Yeah, we do alright,” he says. Rafe is eerily reminded of his father. But Beau's not exaggerating—Rafe had looked up their house on Zillow in the bathroom ten minutes ago. He had gawked, especially because that was an estimate, and he could tell it was a lowball. “So, you’re for sure going back?”

“Yes,” Rafe says immediately, like somehow someway his dad is around to hear him right now. There’s never room for hesitation when it comes to his father. Especially now.

“Even with Y/n staying out here?” Beau presses.

“Yeah, we’re um… we’re working on that. I’m not sure if she’s decided yet,” Rafe says honestly.

“Well. Let me know if you ever need anything out here, Rafe. Y/n clearly really cares for you. We love having her with us, and we’d do anything to make that an easier choice for her. Especially with the baby coming.”

Rafe blanches. “The baby?”

“Agnes is still very early on, but we’re planning ahead. If Y/n can graduate and go full-time with us right around when Agnes gives birth, that’d help us out a lot. So, if you’re ever looking—”

Rafe can feel the panic clawing up this throat, his dad’s voice practically yelling in his head right now. 'She’s going to have you following her around in California like a little lap dog in a fucking purse.'

“Beau. Sorry. Wow, I really—first of all, congratulations. I had no idea Agnes was expecting,” Rafe blurts, looking over to where you’re sitting on the grass. “And thank you so much for the offer, really. But that won’t… I’m moving home. Y/n and I are talking about what’s next for both of us but, that’s me for sure.”

Beau nods. “I see. Well. If not for her, then for you, Rafe. You could make a killing out here, compared to whatever your dad is getting in the Outside Banks.”

“Outer Banks.”

“Exactly,” Beau says, smirking at Rafe. Rafe keeps his eyes trained on you, unsure of what to say anymore. You finally spot him, giving him an easy smile. One he doesn’t return.

Why didn’t you tell him?

—

tags: @moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids @fangirlvoice @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @amourtentiaa @loveylangdon @oopsiedoopsie23 @sodasback @arvinrussellseggplant @cooper8224 @rafeyybabyy @lemur46

#rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron #outer banks netflix #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fic #rafe outer banks #she writes

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sif-the-tsunami · 3 years

Note

Ok prompt! Sy is teaching you how to cook and maybe things get frisky ? 😁

Oooo I like this. Its not 100% on the nose but this is where the muse took me.

Did you want a novel? Because, I hope you like novels.

Warnings: chili with beans, sweet cornbread, swearing, smut

"Listen hear, you chicken fried fuck. If you don't like my cooking, you are welcome to eat something else at the damn pot luck!" I snap at a grumpy retired soldier who was talking trash about my chili recipe. Like always. Whenever we have a party, he has to say something about how I'm dressed, what I brought, or the beer I was drinking.

"All I'm saying here, California, is that where I'm from we don't put beans in our chili. And don't get me started on this abomination you call cornbread. Why is it sweet, why are there vegetables in my bread?" He says in his drawl.

"Because honey and roasted jalapenos taste good together!"

"I guess. You don't need to fuss so much Princess, I'll gladly show you how to make real Texan food. Make some wife material out of you." He smirked. I think he knew he was getting under my skin.

"Come on, Sy, give her a break. Take a bite of her cornbread with the chili, they are delicious together." One of our mutual friends told him when he could see that I was not having any more of his attitude.

I walked away from the conversation, feeling incredibly salty. The man was Syverson, we had been in the same group of friends for the past couple years and honestly he was usually at least cordial with me, but the sheer audacity of his tone today. The rest of the party was really fun, at least. Occasionally, I would catch eyes the color of the ocean after a storm staring me down. He kept looking like he wanted to say something to me but I would find reasons to leave the room. Fortunately there was always a way to get out and around.

Towards the end of the evening, I go outside to enjoy the cooling air and watch the stars, listen to a couple of the guys from inside sit on the tailgate of a truck and talk about football or something. The breeze would kick up occasionally and I could smell an orange tree blooming in the distance.

"Hey, oh shit, I didn't mean to startle you." I jumped damn near out of my skin when the grump showed up out of nowhere. "I actually really wanted to say that I'm sorry, I can be a real asshole sometimes. You are usually more aware of it than others. I'm used to giving people a hard time. Your food was delicious. I just don't know how to talk to you sometimes."

I looked at the large man skeptically. I'm not used to people going from snarky to nice to me. "Thank you for apologizing. Glad you liked it, Chicken Fried. You can just talk to me like anyone else, I don't mind some teasing, but you just know how to push my buttons."

Sy looked at his feet for a moment. "I will be nicer to you, I promise."

"I'm sure." I had heard that before.

"I still think mines better," back to sounding arrogant already, "I am willing to bet that it would blow your mind."

"Do you really want to bet?"

"Yeah... sure. I'll bet you. If my chili it better than yours.... you have to go on a date with me."

"Is that how you get most of your dates these days? Tinder just isn't cutting it anymore?" I tease. He is actually kind of good looking. Sort of. If you are into that hand crafted by the gods kind of look. I'm not saying I am, but I could get the appeal.

"You'd be surprised. Most of the women I meet want to figure out what's wrong with me. Almost 40, never married, I have a job I like. They keep waiting for my skeletons to come out of the closet. Like shit, girl, I just don't like olives or sweet relish. I think I'm pretty cool otherwise." He said talking with his hands out stretched. I think he might have been being earnest with me, but his tone is almost always sarcastic.

"You were in the military, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's what's wrong with you." The big man started laughing harder than I thought he would.

"Well, California. You up for it?"

"I don't know Chicken Fried, I don't like dating, I would really just like something casual, low maintenance. What happens when I win?"

"When?" He chuckles. "If you are looking for something casual and low maintenance, baby, there is a reason when I was still in the Army they called me Captain Cunnilingus."

"It sounds like either way you win." I smirk, "I would need a real incentive to try to beat you."

"How about bragging rights?"

"If I win... you shave your beard. Then I get to use your face as a chair." He looked shocked.

"Fine, when I win, you have to wear a dress on our date, and heels. Maybe even some of that shit you all put on your lips with the glitter and fruity flavors."

"Ok, now that's unreasonable. I don't even own heels."

"I'll buy you some." Well color me impressed. We decide on the terms of the bet. We would invite a couple of friends over to his place next Sunday and they would pick a winner with a blind taste test. We would also have one canned chili and one restaurant chili to make it a little more interesting.

Sunday came, and we all gathered in his house. This was the best batch of chili I have ever made. Fresh peppers, bacon, beer and some good quality beef all swam together in a symphony of flavors. When I walked into his house, the smell was... pungent. I could smell cooking vinegar. It wasn't bad but there was something just a little off putting.

"Glad you showed up, Princess." He looked me up and down. to surprise him just a little, I did show up in a dress. I figured a special occasion needed a special outfit.

I looked over at the big man as he took my slow cooker from my hands and plugged it in for me. To be fair to both of us, we had enough time to set up sides and toppings. I even baked more cornbread. Sy made his own savory cornbread that he pulled out of the oven in a cast iron skillet.

"It was my mama's." He told me when I asked about it.

"You bake also?"

"Sometimes, if the mood hits me. I like making peach cobbler too. If you are lucky, I'll make you some. Maybe after our date."

"So sure of yourself, Chicken Fried. I hope you got some good shaving cream and a new razor, you'll need it." In his kitchen, I lifted the hem of my sundress clear up to my naked hip showing him that I was ready to win this bet of ours. His pupils blew out with lust as he stepped up to me.

"Princess, you are a hell of a tease. I have wanted you so badly ever since the first time we met." He breathed, lusty and hot. He pinned me to the counter, radiating his desire. He bit his lip, looking me up and down, he looked like he wanted to kiss me or maybe consume me whole. Suddenly he pulls away, leaving me breathless. "We will have company soon. I need to walk this off, but I really do want to continue this conversation when we don't have to risk being interrupted."

Before anyone could walk in on us, Syverson rushed up to me and kissed me more passionately. My knees buckle for a second and its like I've been set on fire.

When our friends came into his house, he set up bowls, spoons, Fritos and cheese. He set up blind tastings for the guests, only he and I knew what everyone was eating.

The canned chili was a flop. The restaurant chili was a better batch but it wasn't as good. When our friends tasted my chili, they all keep saying how wonderful it was.

Then we tried Sy's. Everyone was quiet for a moment and then the group started to try to figure out what it was about the chili that we didn't like. It was too sweet as far as I was concerned and there was a weird aftertaste. It was an overwhelming agreement that Sy's chili was terrible. After we cleaned up his kitchen, Sy was pouting about having lost.

"So, when would you like for me to shave my beard?"

"Maybe later tonight. I think we have to finish that conversation we started earlier."

"Oh yeah, California?" He said, standing close to me. He grabbed me by my hips and lifted me to the counter top. I lace my fingers through his beard hair and pull him closer so I can finally kiss him again. He broke away from the kiss and then started nibbling on my neck. His hand found the seem of my dress and he slid his hand up my thigh. When my skirt was pushed up to my hips exposing my sex to him, he leaned me back. I watched him look at my core and lick his lips like a man starved.

"Wait a second. Before you start, what was going on with your chili? Did you throw the bet?"

"No, not at all." He looked at me confused. "I don't know what happened, I've made this a bunch of times and its always been good. This was terrible."

"Did you do anything different?"

"Well. I was out of tomato paste, so I used ketchup. A buddy of mine suggested it."

"Oh my god, Sy. No wonder! Thank god you are pretty, my guy." I tease.

"Your guy? I like the way that sounds. Now lean back, Princess. I'm going to try to convince you to let me not shave."

#henry cavill fanfic #my apologies to henry cavill #henry cavill #henry cavill smut #asks answered #captain syverson #captain sy x reader

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writersrealmbts · 4 years

Text

Lonely Little Jack-o-Lantern

Description: Yoonkook x reader, Hybrid Au, Zombie Apocalypse Au. You operate your own little farm, living in an area that doesn’t have as many zombies as other areas, but one day a group of hybrids show up, and the changes are immediate, especially where Yoongi and Jungkook are concerned.

Warnings: Mild language, mild blood and gore (very mild)

Posted: 10/30/2020

Tags/Genre: Yoonkook x reader, hybrid au, zombie au

Sort of Fluff, Sort of Angst: 12,331 words

A/N: This is long as heck, so I hope you guys enjoy it, it’s not the normal zombie au type so bear with me, and I got caught up in details. All the details. But here is your story, @ditttiii, my baby bird. And It’s technically still the 29th, but I was formatting it anyway and thought, hey, only a few hours away for me! Happy almost halloween!

You walked carefully, furtively looking around.

Then you spotted it, lifting your machete….

And quickly sliced down and through it, cutting it off at the neck.

Severing it’s lifeline.

How else would you dispatch it?

You straightened up with a grin, putting your machete again. “Perfect! You’ll make a fine jack-o-lantern! And your buddy will make a fantastic pumpkin pie!”

The pumpkins didn’t respond, not that you expected them too.

You picked the smaller one up by the vine and cradled the other in your arm, humming happily as you headed back toward your home.

Sure, there was a zombie apocalypse going on. In fact, most people had retreated to the shelters and military safety zones.

But…you hadn’t actually seen another soul for a couple months, or a zombie since last spring.

Cold was surprisingly effective at getting rid of zombies. They had all migrated to warmer climates, except for the odd straggler that moved so poorly due to frostbite damage that you easily dispatched them.

You’d taken up residence in an abandoned farm-store, with an attached greenhouse that you utilized to maximize food production (plus several extra greenhouses a ways away which definitely helped, but you didn’t use all of them for obvious reasons). You went on your merry way, making enough food for yourself, plus extra just in case, and setting aside extra goods for anyone who happened to come your way. You’d give them shelter plus some dried foods to take with them as they journeyed onward, and they usually repaid you with a couple days of help around the farm or kitchen.

Heck, last summer, you’d hosted an impromptu wedding. The group had been traveling together, both families having been together to meet one another before the wedding, and the groom’s father was a priest. He basically ordained you before he left, even told you where to look for legal documentation at the courthouse for if you ever needed to conduct another wedding.

At this point, the ceremony was more of a comfort sort of thing. A long-held tradition to bring a sense of normalcy to the abnormality of the life everyone now lived.

You paused once you reached your home again, feeling as though something were off.

Slowly you lowered the one pumpkin to the ground, grabbing your machete again.

Then you spotted them. Five figures, moving slowly, just shapes at the moment.

You scooped up the pumpkin again and quickly went inside, putting up your defenses just in case after depositing your pick onto the floor. Then you went out around the back to secure your livestock, which mostly consisted of birds that you had adopted from the abandoned homes and farms around you, a few rabbits, three goats (that you honestly only sheltered for the night, they did their own thing and you let them), and a little piglet that a passing family had left with you a few months ago (the runt of the litter, very weak at the time but slowly growing under your care). You went down the street every morning to milk some of the cows that lived there. You didn’t know enough about them to fully care for them, so you weren’t entirely certain what to do for them, but there was a farmer that came up once or twice a summer to check on you and the cows, and the small herd of cows hadn’t suffered yet. And you had butter, cheeses (when you didn’t mess up the process), canned milk, condensed milk, sweetened condensed milk, and had even tried to make yogurt once or twice (it didn’t go well).

Your next foray would be trying to milk the goats, something you’ve been avoiding because you’d never liked the goat products your family had always pushed on you when you were younger, but desperate times and all.

But that depended on you protecting your home today.

They were moving pretty slowly for humans, but not quite as sluggishly as you would have expected of zombies.

You would have to wait until they were closer.

Whatever they were, they still hadn’t spotted you, even as they got within a 100 feet of you.

“Halt! Identify yourselves!” You called out, pointing the rifle at them.

They stopped, some of them raising their hands, most of them looking surprised.

“We’re just passing through, trying to find our way to the sanctuary!” One of them called.

All of them were men, which made alarms go off in your head.

“You know you’re going the wrong way, right?” You asked, really not buying that story.

Until they all drooped and started griping at each other in a foreign language.

“Hey!” You yelled. “Still waiting!”

“Right, sorry, sorry, um, we were at the Cherimo base, but it was being evacuated, and we were on a smaller plane and it crashed…and…we’re lost…” The one that had spoken before said.

You studied them for a while. You had heard over the radio that something was going on due to resource loss, but the signal had been fuzzy and you weren’t sure why they would….

Was that a tail?

Oh.

“Are you hybrids?” You asked, lowering the rifle carefully.

One of them nodded before the spokesperson, then nervously halted when he saw the others weren’t nodding.

You lowered your guard a little more. “Let me guess, autopilot failed?”

They all nodded this time.

It made sense. If there were limited resources, why wouldn’t they get rid of lifeforms they deemed less useful. Nevermind that so far hybrids had shown more immunity to whatever it was that made people zombies. If one of them were bitten or injured by a zombie, as long as they cleaned the wound thoroughly and quickly they wouldn’t turn.

“It…it seriously hurt one of our friends. The other stayed behind to take care of him, and we were supposed to find help. That was a couple days ago though….” The spokesperson said, voice trailing off or choking up.

You bit the inside of your lip, looking at your home from the corner of your eye, then sighing and putting the safety on. “Alright. I’ll get the truck ready, but if there are two people there, I can only take two extra people. The rest of you will have to stay here.”

“You’ll help us?” The spokesperson said, sounding completely surprised.

You nodded, heading toward the door to unlock it. “But there are going to be so many ground rules. First of all, I’m allowing you into my home, don’t make a mess of it. Drink as much water as you like, it’s clean, and I’ll cook something when I get back. But you can’t sleep here. It’s too dangerous for me. You can sleep in the greenhouse, or you could try the farmhouse down the street. I’ll make an exception for your injured friend and one other to keep him company. And I’m still going to be celebrating Halloween in a couple days, so deal with it.”

He was translating, but they already seemed to be agreeing.

You ushered them in while you got the keys to the truck. “Names?”

“Kim Namjoon,” The spokesperson said, “Fox is Jimin, Otter is Hoseok, red panda is Jungkook, and Taehyung is the bear.”

You paused to study him. “And what, exactly, are you?”

“White-nosed coati,” He answered, nervously.

You blinked at him, then shook your head and kept moving. Grabbing your first-aid kit (had you raided the emergency medical center a few miles from your home? yes, yes you had) and heading out to the truck, you didn’t bother looking to see who would join you.

It was Namjoon and the red panda, who thankfully looked strong. Jungkook?

They guided you back to where the plane had crashed, which wasn’t too hard after you got in the proximate area thanks to whoever it was that had stayed behind keeping a nice, smoky fire going.

But they hadn’t been joking.

Their friend was seriously injured.

The other looked up, obviously scared and desperate, relief visible when he smelled his friends, calling out to them in their language.

You hurried over, not caring about the snarl he emitted as you got close.

They had strapped him down carefully, so he couldn’t injure himself by moving, which was good, but….

“Yoongi, she’s here to help,” Namjoon said, more firmly.

You bit your lip. “Get him in the bed of the truck. We need to get him back to a clean environment, get him fully hydrated so that he can replenish any blood-loss, and then I’m going to have to clean and suture his wounds. Someone get the tailgate.”

The four of you quickly moved, but carefully got him into the truck and made sure he wouldn’t get jostled around too much. Then you drove carefully back to your home, parking as close to the door as possible.

You hopped out and hurried inside, rushing to the basement to grab some of the supplies you kept in the cold down there.

It was a slow process, especially since you kept double checking with the medical books and manuals that you were doing the right thing, but the other boys were patient. Namjoon reading it again aloud if you were uncertain, and reassuring Yoongi that you were being careful and doing your best.

So you had his wounds sanitized and stitched, had carefully given him some medicine to fight any infection that may have started despite the dedicated care Yoongi had provided, and all of you had decided that an I.V. was too dangerous to attempt without further research and verification.

And he was partially conscious by the time you finished, so you all just resolved to carefully give him lots of water (he was no longer strapped down, they knew his neck and back weren’t broken, they were just trying to keep him still), and he was carefully propped up in your guest bed by two in the afternoon.

You left Taehyung carefully giving him sips of water, closing the door softly to limit the stimulation.

“Thank you,” A voice said quietly, accent present.

You turned toward the voice and spotted Yoongi, head down. “No problem. He’s okay for now, I think. I’m not exactly a doctor or a nurse, but I’ve done everything I can.”

He nodded slowly, but you weren’t sure how much he actually understood. You thought he must have understood most of it, though.

You nodded as well, then took a deep breath…and turned away, heading for the kitchen. “Let’s get you all something to eat.”

They hesitantly followed you into the kitchen, peeking around furtively, and sticking to the spots that seemed to be out of the way.

You glanced at them, then grabbed a couple jars of chicken broth. “Well, are you going to stand there, or are you going to help?”

“Help,” Yoongi said immediately, stiffly walking a little further into the room.

You nodded, then pointed toward the pantry. “In there are potatoes, carrots, and onions. I need two onions…eight red-skin potatoes…and ten carrots. Could one of you go into the greenhouse, through that door, and get me three stalks of celery?”

Namjoon relayed the message and Jungkook nodded eagerly, heading that way.

“Garlic?” Yoongi asked, bringing out the other things.

You contemplated, then shrugged. “Sure, but only one or two cloves.”

He nodded again and headed back into the closet.

You glanced at the other three, then pointed toward the pantry. “In there, rice. Fill this.” You set a measuring bowl out.

Jimin (?) nodded and took the bowl, heading in to find the rice.

You got the jumbo-sized pot out and some of the butter and oil, but didn’t turn it on yet.

Jungkook came back with the celery and you smiled your thanks, getting a cutting board and a knife to carefully cut it up. Then you turned on the stove on a low setting to let the celery cook a little longer.

You had Hoseok (?) peeling the carrots, with instructions on how to chop them afterward.

Namjoon was washing the potatoes.

Jimin was carefully washing the rice.

Yoongi was chopping the onions.

You set Jungkook to mincing the garlic so you could pay attention to the cooking celery, and trying to remember what else you put in the soup. “Jimin, can you go pick some spinach? Fill this bowl, the tiny spinach, though.” You set a bowl down on the counter.

Jimin looked uncertainly to Namjoon, who translated, then he nodded, and headed out into the greenhouse.

Hopefully he knew what the spinach looked like.

Yoongi brought you the onion and you dumped it into the pot.

“Can you go get green onion? Just a small one,” You asked.

He blinked, then nodded, heading out.

You grabbed some eggs setting them nearby for when the onions were ready, and accepting the garlic from Jungkook, but keeping it to the side for the moment.

You handed the spoon to Jungkook. “Stir now and then.”

He nodded confidently.

You grabbed a pan and some of your cherry peppers and mini-sweet peppers. You cut them into chunky pieces, not too big, then coated them in some oil and put them in the oven under the broiler for five minutes, initially.

Jimin came back with the spinach with Yoongi, who had the green onion you had requested.

Jimin took all of it to the sink to wash it, asking something in Korean.

“He wants to know what you need done with the rice and the spinach,” Namjoon translated.

“Spinach can be coarsely chopped, just keep the rice set aside. The potatoes can be cut, somewhat large…um…” You looked around, then pulled the pepper chunks out of the oven. “Slightly bigger than this.”

Namjoon translated.

Hoseok nodded, grabbing the scrubbed potatoes and waving Namjoon away.

You continued watching to make sure they understood, then nodded and went back, checking to see how the onions were cooking, then adding the garlic.

Jungkook looked curious, but also frustrated, like he wanted to ask something but wasn’t entirely certain how.

You cracked half of the eggs into a dish to whisk them up, opting for more eggs since it meant more protein and you had a ton of them anyway. Then—pushing the onions, garlic and celery to one corner—you poured then eggs into the pot and then plonked the lid on for a couple minutes to let the egg cook a bit.

Jungkook stared at the lid, then looked at you, still seeming to lack the words to inquire.

You shrugged, gathering the peppers, and then quickly chopping the green onion, the green part a little bigger than the white, and tossed both of those into the pot when the egg seemed to be the right amount of cooked. Stirring carefully, not wanting to break up the eggs too much, but also wanting to let any uncooked egg have a chance and free the onions, garlic and celery from their eggy prison.

Dear god you hoped this would taste okay.

You boldly poured in the chicken broth, making sure nothing was clinging to the bottom. Then you added the rice, spinach and potatoes and left it to come back up to simmering while you pulled the extra chicken you had cooked out of your cooler. You had planned on making chicken stew, maybe cooking up some dumplings, but…you could tell they were hungry and this would be faster than chicken stew and less nitpicky.

You paused before starting to cut the chicken, quickly going to grab some seasoning and being very careful about measuring that up.

“What is this called?” Namjoon asked, gesturing to the pot.

“Would you believe chicken and rice soup?” You asked, going back to the chicken with a knife. “If you hadn’t noticed, I was kind of winging it. Hopefully it will taste okay.”

Yoongi gave you a thumbs up. “Thank you.”

You nodded. “It’s not much. We don’t even know if it will be good.”

“Still,” Yoongi murmured, shrugging and looking away.

You quickly looked back down at the chicken. “You all are the first people I’ve seen in a couple months. Don’t get me wrong, I love living here. It’s probably safer than even the military zones. The zombies can’t withstand the winters and it makes them easy to dispatch.”

“Lonely,” Jungkook murmured.

You shrugged. “Even in a crowd, people have the ability to feel alone. I think actually being alone is better. Then at least I can’t resent others for not noticing me. It’s an apocalypse. At least I chose this life. No one forced it on me, not the apocalypse, not a plague. I chose this for myself. There’s a sort of satisfaction in that.”

Yoongi came beside you, cat-like eyes flickering over the chicken you were shredding. Then he met your curious gaze, holding it for a long moment.

“I suppose that makes me lucky,” You added. “To be able to decide my own life.”

He blinked slowly.

You shifted on your feet, unnerved.

“Uh, the pot….” Namjoon said, voice nervous.

You broke away from Yoongi’s gaze, and turned toward the pot.

It was boiling, so you turned down the heat for the moment and gave it a stir, then went back toward the chicken.

Yoongi had already taken over.

You stared for a moment, then went to wash your hands. “This place runs on solar power, and has a well. Normally, when I have people here they exchange work for a place to stay for a few days. Your friend is in no shape to be moving anywhere—”

“We’ll happily help you with anything you need,” Namjoon said quickly.

The others were nodding in agreement as he quickly translated, all looking scared and somewhat terrified.

You held your hands up to stop them before they continued down the panicky path they were treading. “I was just going to say, that you can stay as long as you need while your friend is recovering. I’m going to go check on your friends.”

They nodded.

Jungkook followed you out and into the bedroom again.

Taehyung and Jin were asleep.

You carefully closed the door, then studied Jungkook for a moment, noticing a tear in his shirt that looked pretty big. “Are you hurt?”

He glanced down, then looked sheepish and shrugged.

You pointed to a chair. “Shirt off.”

He carefully removed his shirt, obviously in pain from the gash on his ribs.

You could just hit him upside the head. All that lifting he did!

So you did. “Don’t do stupid things like lifting people when you’re injured.”

He looked at you with wide eyes, and you don’t know how much of it he understood, but his cheeks turned red and he looked away quickly.

You went and got water and a cloth, then knelt beside him to carefully clean the wound. You tried not to notice how well-muscled he was, or how he looked much less innocent like this. Sure, he still had an adorably bushy tail, but—

You flinched as a hand rested on your head, lightly stroking your hair, peeking up to see Jungkook mesmerized by your hair.

He grabbed your free hand, which you’d put out to balance yourself when he startled you, and brought it to his heart.

You could feel it racing, and you locked eyes with him.

He shyly looked away after a moment.

You swallowed hard, then finished cleaning his cut, wiping some antibiotic ointment on it carefully, and then bandaging the area. “There. No heavy lifting for a while. I see you overworking and we’re binding your whole ribcage.” You stood up and packed the first aid kit up again, then hurried back into the kitchen.

You stirred the pot, pulling some rice to test it. “Not yet. Tomorrow, I thought a few of us could venture to the local stores and get all of you some extra clothing and shoes and other supplies. Only those of you who aren’t injured, though. There are monsters hiding out in some of the stores still. That means no Jungkook, and no Jimin—I saw you limping.”

“Jungkook?” Yoongi asked, eyes widening.

You nodded, turning to glance at Jungkook as he followed you in, shirt back on. “He has a nasty cut on his ribs. He shouldn’t have been doing any of the lifting he did.”

All of them started ragging on Jungkook, who was sheepish.

Yoongi was over beside the red panda hybrid talking lowly, quickly, and somewhat sternly.

Jungkook nodded, slouching to rest his head on the cat’s shoulder.

You added the chicken to the pot to distract yourself. You’d never really met any hybrids, except a couple of your childhood friends’, but you figured the scenting you were witnessing was more of a private thing from the way the others sort of averted their gazes.

But you were also morbidly curious.

Yoongi came over a few minutes later. “Seokjin?”

“Sleeping still. It’s good for him to rest. How much English do you understand?” You asked, turning a little.

He sort of shrugged.

“Sorry I can’t speak your language,” You said a little more quietly.

He shrugged again. “You…nice. Keep going.”

You blinked at him for a moment, barely registering Jimin in the background making a lot of complaining-type noises. “I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean, but…thank you?”

He nodded, looking embarrassed, then mumbled something to Namjoon.

Namjoon looked reluctant.

You studied the room.

Namjoon finally turned to you. “Yoongi was wondering how much you understand about hybrid situations during this…pandemic.”

You carefully tasted the broth as you debated how to answer. “I know…that many hybrids have been used as…stress relief for certain clientele to boost morale. Illegally. Others trained as foot-soldiers in the war against zombies. Sent to a slaughter.”

“Yeah. We were transferred to Cherimo six months ago. We were more for shows than anything too….” He didn’t seem to know how to continue.

You stirred the pot nervously. “Shows?”

“Music,” He reassured you. “But…they were talking about us…taking on second jobs. Just before the crisis. Then we were determined to be expendable.”

You nodded. “I understand. Well, once you’ve recovered, we’ll see about getting you all set up on your own, where no one can determine what you can or can’t be. With any decency, you’ll never have to face such threats again.” You tasted the rice again and nodded firmly. “Well, threats from zombies always exist nowadays. Soup is done. Someone grab the bowls from that cupboard.”

Jungkook was hurrying to do as you asked, getting out the four bowls you had, and then looking worriedly in the cupboards.

You went over, opening the one he hadn’t looked in and pulling out assorted other bowls. “They’re all sort of scavenged. I’ve never really needed more than six bowls before today. Guess we should pick up more when we break into the store tomorrow. I think Seokjin should just have broth for now.”

Jimin nodded, taking the bowl of broth you’d ladled out and heading back toward the room.

You gestured for the other boys to get food for themselves, not exactly hungry yourself since you’d had a decent breakfast and instead opting to bring up your pumpkins. One to carve, one to eat. And then you’d also be able to roast any pumpkin seeds to munch on throughout the winter.

Jungkook, Yoongi, and Namjoon stayed in the kitchen while they ate, mostly watching you as you prepared to cut open the pumpkin you were going to carve.

“What…are you doing?” Jungkook asked carefully, quickly filling his mouth afterward.

“Making a jack-o-lantern. I’m going to gut this, then carve a face into it and pretend it’s a normal Halloween occurring in a couple of days.” You managed to get the knife through the thick rind, then carefully cut open the top of the pumpkin.

It took a while for Namjoon to translate since he’d been in the middle of inhaling his food, but after he did, Jungkook nodded, still looking curious.

Yoongi seemed indifferent, mostly muttering something that alerted Jungkook to the fact that his soup still existed, and giving Jungkook a big chunk of chicken.

“Where do you get things like flour and rice?”

You made a face. “Well, most of it I pilfered from stores. I was lucky to find this place early on, lived about a half-hour drive from here, and they had some things. There are stores equidistantly around here: One to the south, one to the north, and one to the east. West is more farmland and forest mix, as you probably surmised by the drive to your crash site. And there’s a farmer to the south that I do work exchange with. He grows wheat, corn, and sugar-beets, and helps me with some livestock. He in turn knows a guy to the east that’s been running some flour and sugar-beet processing, so he’s been providing me with some flour and sugar when he gets the chance.”

“And what do you do for him?”

You pointed to your basket of eggs. “His wife is allergic to feathers. I provide them with bird meat, and eggs. And I can grow things here throughout the winter, and I have a pretty efficient canning process going here. We just exchange goods and services. Nothing else. His son came with him once last winter. They were out of greens. Thankfully, I had enough for what they needed, and sent them home with plenty of greens and some extra goods to help them out. There are benefits to being a party of one, just as there are downfalls.”

“Being lonely,” Yoongi said quietly, not missing a beat and not looking your way.

You shrugged. “But I get a lot done. And I know that if I need company, it’s not terribly far to where his family is. The rule is to bring some goods though. Like, his wife came to visit me sometime in January—they have a horse and wagon that he rigged a heating system in—and she brought me a cherry pie. I spent Christmas with them, and took an apple and a pumpkin pie. That sort of thing. And if you guys settle near here, then we’ll probably do trades with you guys as well. And if you don’t, that’s fine too. What I’m saying…is that solitude isn’t quite so terrible when you know that there is someone around if you really need them.”

Jungkook had moved closer, watching you scrape out the pumpkin guts with clear curiosity.

You glanced at him again, then turned your attention to carefully cutting slices of pumpkin flesh from the inside of it, not wanting to waste any of it. You were determined to experiment more this year, try not to waste anything because it was…hard. Hard to make everything count, and with seven extra mouths eating you were going to need to make every bit count. You had multiple foods curing in the sun so that you could store them on the shelves in the basement, but still…even though you’d been doing this a while, it was always a curious thing trying to figure out if you had enough food for the winter. And it wasn’t as though you could do much about it with it being the end of October.

“How much warning did you get?” Namjoon asked, the first question he seemed to have himself.

You gave a half-laugh. “Well…we knew about the outbreaks in Europe, Asia, Australia, Africa…and my family was already taking it seriously. My parents decided to move out to live with my brother. I was still working, and printing off binders worth of information. No one ever thought to hit bookstores. My dad had started buying gas-tanks and filling two whenever he went to get gas. Left that for me since mom wanted to be by my brother and his family.”

“You didn’t go with them?”

You shrugged. “Half-brother? Not on the best terms. We would have killed each other. As it is, we talk on the sat-phones on Mother’s Day and Christmas. Everyone thought the world would shut down completely, but it didn’t. Anyway, I was banking on them surviving. As much as we don’t get along, my brother is a former marine and his neighbors are well spaced and consist of an older trapper and his wife, a marine buddy of his with his wife, and a cattle ranch. They’re doing great. And I got enough plants and seeds and information, not to mention people raced to get out of the area when they were told it was safest to get to a fort or the nearest Military zone. I hid in the basement for three days after that announcement, but nothing happened to me. I stayed at the house for a month after, packing the truck and trailer. I had my car still, with a full tank of gas, and I went around to see what things were like. There were still a few groups evacuating, but no one really paid attention to me. Met the owners of this place, asked if they were staying or going. They were older, and had been planning on selling the place before all of it went down. I gave them a wad of cash and a box of canned food, they gave me the keys. Everyone I did meet thought I was crazy. I was very careful about moving everything, and I kept everything locked up tight.”

“When did the zombies hit?”

“About this time that year. I remember because I thought it was ironic that the zombies would finally show up around Halloween. They were pretty bad that fall, and into December because it wasn’t as cold of a winter as normal. But January swooped in like a champ with below-freezing temperatures and lots of snow. I was lucky. Very lucky.” You finished picking the seeds out of the guts (at least, you were fairly certain you had removed all of them). “The cell towers were still work intermittently, so I can look up information quickly if I want. And the powerplants…they were still running until December. But hey, I’ve got three generators, and a crap-ton of car batteries for powering extra things, like the greenhouses.”

“Did you farm before this?”

You wrinkled your nose as you thought about it. “Honestly? Not to this extent. I’d thought about it, but the most we ever had was a vegetable garden and a couple of fruit trees. To say there was a learning curve would be an understatement. But I got through it.

“Scared,” Jungkook asked, gaze locked on you.

You shrugged. “Who isn’t? Would you like more soup?”

He looked at his bowl, then looked toward the pot.

“You guys can just help yourselves. I’ll probably eat later.” You picked the knife up again, seeing the end of the conversation in sight once more. Less distraction while holding a sharp object. Sure, what you were cutting out of your jack-o-lantern wasn’t going to be pretty, but you could roast the, up like fries and that would be really yummy. Or you could try to make a pumpkin spice something or other. You weren’t really sure what you would do with all of the pumpkin innards you were breaking out.

You just knew the shell was getting a face.

You paused, turning back to the egg basket. “I never let the animals out again.”

Someone followed you as you rushed out the back door to the small stable/barn/shed that you had shooed the animals into (that weren’t already secure in their own pens, mind), opening the doors to the fenced area for the pig and goats to run around, including your favorite pygmy goat that you honestly rescued just because it was cute. Whoever it was helped you shoo the ten chickens, two turkeys, three ducks, and one grumpy goose out into the bird run.

“Go on chicks. Guster! Get your tail-feathers through that door,” You scolded, picking up the grumpy goose and essentially tossing him through.

He landed just fine, honking angrily at you.

The ducks were happily settling near you, but you carefully shuffled them through the door.

The turkeys had gone through the moment you opened the door, the smarty-pants.

As for the peafowl in the pen on the other side of the property…well…as pretty as they were, you pretty much just fed them and cared for them because you felt bad for them. Sure, you had lot of pretty feathers for crafts in wintertime, but they were loud. And picky. And they ate so much, and needed warmer, dryer, well-kept pens.

But they were also very sweet and probably hand-raised because they always came right up to you.

Without a feed source to purchase for them, you hadn’t thought they would survive this long, but they were still plucking along. You let the male out during the hot days of summer to roam, but he always came back just in time for you to put clean water and whatever treat you’d scrounged up.

You’d let all of the birds out when you’d been tilling, letting them get the grubs and ants and other insects that were in your way.

The ducks would usually go down to the pond, but you’d just cleaned out their swimming pool, so you figured they would be fine as long as Guster didn’t decide they weren’t allowed to be there.

You would have to add more minnows to the pool.

There were so many things you hadn’t considered when you were setting up everything and rescuing the animals you did, that you just sort of figured out as you went. Like, hey! If you capture some minnows and raise them you can give them to your ducks and geese and they will adore you for centuries.

You had to raid the U-Haul and get a bigger transport vehicle, then raid a bunch of farm and pet supply stores. Then again that would use up a lot of gas as well.

“Uh…sheep?”

You turned around, looking at Jungkook, then at the goat that was trying to eat his shoe-laces. “Goat. Carl. Just push him.”

He did, and Carl plodded away.

Yoongi was also there, holding an egg and looking curious.

You glanced around, then grabbed an egg-carton. “Guess we should check for more eggs while we’re here.”

They nodded and helped you search, noses twitching and active as they explored the nooks and crannies.

Four eggs wasn’t bad considering you’d just collected eggs that morning. You’d put them in with the broody turkey. She’d hatched at least half of your chickens, and your third duck. She was your most valued asset.

The boys stood well-back while you carefully pushed her from her nest from behind, and placed the eggs before she could attack your hand, then closed the back hatch.

She was happily situated once more when you peeked in.

“Great. Okay. I need to make the trip across to the other pen, and then go down to see the cows this afternoon. But I need to show a couple of you what to do since we’ll probably be gone most of tomorrow,” You spoke, not really expecting a response.

Jungkook caught your wrist. “Me.”

“Alone?”

“You are alone.”

“But I’ve had practice. At least get Jimin and…who else is staying behind tomorrow? Besides Jin.”

Yoongi shook his head. “Jungkook and Jimin.”

You nodded. “Okay, then at least get Jimin to come see what to do as well. Don’t rush. We’re heading toward that building.”

He looked and nodded, then jogged away.

You huffed. “That boy.”

Yoongi made a soft sound, like he agreed but was also amused.

You turned to him. “Does it bother you when I just ramble on?”

He shook his head, a certain intensity in his gaze as he met your eyes that made it hard to continue meeting his gaze.

But impossible to look away.

His ears twitched, but they were angled toward you. His tail flicked as he stepped closer to you.

Warning lights went off in your head. Seven men. One girl. Alone.

You whipped around as fast as you could and started walking, grabbing the bucket of feed you’d prepared earlier. “Welp, let’s go. I’m sure they’ll catch up with us soon.”

And you swore you heard him hiss in surprise, and you just wanted to laugh at how ridiculous you were being and how ridiculous this situation was, but honestly who would have thought—

You squeaked in alarm dropping the bucket and running back toward the house to grab the rifle and the axe, then racing back toward your peacocks to save them from the zombie.

Yoongi gladly accepted the ax, hurrying after you, but also staying a good ways back so that you would have time to shoot the thing so he could chop it’s head off.

You’d become a very good shot in the past two years.

Yoongi looked like he might be sick after cutting its head off.

You didn’t blame him.

Wordlessly the two of you dragged it a place where you could bury it when you got the chance.

Jungkook and Jimin were there when you two returned, with Namjoon to translate.

Poor Namjoon.

When you were finally done instructing them on the peacocks, and the other animals on the property, you all headed down the street to the cows.

Jungkook fascinatedly touched the cows, while Jimin and Yoongi crouched beside you to learn.

And Yoongi was only gulping several times while he watched the milk tin you and Jimin filled, one cow after another.

The boys were also teasing him, and though he refused to give them much of a reaction, his cheeks were a little red and there was a twitch at the corners of his mouth that hinted at a smile and man that was adorable, especially with how his eyes closed slightly and his hair—

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

Nope.

Nuhuh.

Stop it.

“So, what do you do with it now?” Namjoon asked.

You shrugged. “Take it home, separate the cream, pasteurize the milk. Then I’m either going to drink it or make something out of it.”

“Cool,” He replied, then translated, but you got the feeling that only Jimin really needed the translation as the two of them walked away, Jimin carrying the container effortlessly.

Jungkook and Yoongi walked with you, looking around at the farm while you got the cows some fresh hay, and inspecting the houses that the three of you walked past on your way back.

“Where did they go?” Jungkook asked carefully, looking at each abandoned house.

“I don’t know,” You answered quietly. You’d been to each house. When you finished your chores in the winter you amused yourself by inspecting the houses around you. Gathering furniture and supplies that you decided were needed.

“You live there,” Jungkook asked.

You shrugged. “Yeah. It made sense. Live where you work. I was just lucky that they had an extra room attached to the store area that I could turn into my room. I’ll probably just sleep in the kitchen, though. It’d pretty comfortable there once I set up the cot. Nice and warm.”

Jungkook paused by one of your smaller pumpkins that was sun-cured and awaiting transport to where it would be resting for winter or for later processing.

You paused as well, then picked it up. “Come on, panda boy. You can carve one too.”

Yoongi started purring but quickly coughed to cover it.

The other boys were distracted, talking with Taehyung quietly but animatedly, and the door to the room where Seokjin lay was propped open slightly. Seokjin was asleep and Taehyung was eating, cheeks bulging slightly from how much food he’d shoveled in.

Felt good to have your food appreciated, even if they were only eating it because they were half-starved.

Yoongi and Jungkook followed you into the kitchen (Yoongi moving the milk pails, that Jimin had left on the floor near the sink, onto the counter for you).

Jungkook went at his pumpkin carefully, but the one time he didn’t do something carefully he earned a low growl from Yoongi. He proceeded to stick his tongue out at the feline, and continuing carefully.

You pushed the bowl of seeded gut, unseeded guts, and seeds toward Yoongi with a grin.

He winced, but didn’t fight it. He did get a fork and spoon to help him sift through though.

Jungkook hummed as he worked, filling the slight-awkward-slightly-comfortable silence, sometimes murmuring a word or two in Korean.

And you believed that they’d been in the music industry, because there was no way they would pass up the chance for a rare hybrid that could also sing. And Red panda hybrids were rare.

There hadn’t been much of a hybrid-culture around you growing up, so you were aware of it, and had met a few hybrids that were therapy hybrids, but you’d never had significant exposure to them aside from your one road trip with you friends when you broke down in a hybrid town. The hybrid women that came to your rescue been extremely kind to you and your friend and had gotten you on the road again. But they’d told you to avoid hybrid males, “For everyone’s sake” and now…you still weren’t certain what it meant.

You wondered how they were doing during this apocalypse. They’d probably just stayed put and established more defenses. They were already mostly self-sustaining, with their own power supply and water system. Most people wouldn’t have even passed through there unless they were very, very lost.

“There’s a hybrid town…there was a hybrid town, to the east of here. There were completely self-sustaining. After your friend heals up, you might want to head that way,” You said in the silence after Jungkook finished his song. You were finished with your jack-o-lantern, just peeling the skin off of the bits you had carved out to add to the pile of salvaged pumpkin flesh.

Jungkook went rigid, and his tail fluffed out.

Yoongi also looked…tense.

“Or not. Do whatever you guys want,” You quickly added, a little alarmed at how alarmed they got. You’d just wanted to let them know that there was somewhere they might have a better chance. They’d said they wanted to go to the nearest safety zone, but that would also mean returning to servitude, discrimination, and possibly worse things.

Jungkook and Yoongi started having a rapid conversation over the workspace, Jungkook looking desperate and despairing, Yoongi looking uneasy and reluctant and adamant.

You weren’t sure what it was you had said, but they seemed to be quickly heading toward some sort of dispute and Jungkook suddenly turned adamant as well and Yoongi got a fed-up look.

“Namjoonie-hyung!” Jungkook finally called loudly, slamming the knife he had been using down on the counter and turning to head toward the main room.

Yoongi’s eyes widened and he hurried after the panda. “Yah, Jungkook-ah.”

You watched them go, then quickly grabbed the knives and put them in the sink in case they came back. Then you started sorting the seeds out of the guts of Jungkook’s pumpkin as the debate appeared to continue in the next room with lots of shushing.

You really wished you’d gotten more language textbooks and dictionaries. But honestly, there was no way you could have foreseen needing to know Korean.

———

Seokjin was already looking better the next morning, and more aware. Taehyung was carefully feeding him, and between the two of them they managed to tell you about the other pains—possibly broken bones—that Seokjin had. But all you could really do about them (aside from feel them and see if you could feel any displacement, which you didn’t) was splint them and tell him to not take any risks. Unfortunately, at least one of his legs appeared to be broken. You had a brace that he went into comfortable, but that was the best you could do for him.

At least they weren’t avoiding you like the others.

You weren’t sure what it was that you had said that set them off, but, after the…discussion yesterday afternoon, most of the boys sort of avoided you. Looked nervous.

But as it got later in the morning, you gathered and loaded some supplies into the truck. You’d already hooked up the trailer

Jungkook met you there, looking determined.

“No,” You said firmly. “I told you, no injured people on this trip. Too dangerous.”

His brow furrowed.

“No,” You repeated. You were not going to be fought on this. No way.

Finally he stalked away.

You wished you felt victorious.

Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Taehyung were set to go with you—though Taehyung appeared to be giving very detailed instructions to Jimin and Jungkook about Jin’s care—and soon packed into the vehicle.

It was very awkward. Yoongi sat in the back with Hoseok, but he wouldn’t look at you.

Namjoon and Taehyung were crammed in the front and Taehyung had apparently tired of practicing his English because he was talking with Namjoon.

Your hand went to the pocket with the list of things you wanted to look for, as if the list would reassure you that everything was okay.

You could feel someone’s gaze burning into you, and you knew who it was without looking.

You knew it was Yoongi.

You just wished you knew why.

You’d gone east, since that town was fractionally closer, easier to navigate, and hadn’t been raided as much.

“What’s the plan?” Namjoon asked as the houses started giving way to more business stuff.

You started to reply, then pulled into the hospital that was there (just a random specialist center, not a full one, but you thought it still might have some things you could use). “First we see if we can find Seokjin a wheelchair, crutches, or more braces—anything that might help. You have your weapons?”

They nodded.

You parked the vehicle, studying the building for a moment. “Okay. We stick together. Two people look, the other three guard. Got it?”

A smattering of agreements and a queasy nod from Hoseok let you know that they agreed.

“Hoseok and Yoongi, you want to look for the equipment?”

They nodded, though Yoongi was slightly more reluctant.

“Yoongi thinks I should help look for equipment and he should help guard.”

You gave Namjoon a quizzical look.

He rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I’m a little clumsy. They call me the god of destruction. He doesn’t want me to destroy everyone.”

You nodded. “Okay. Also, guys, if you see medical things that will fit in our bags, go ahead and carefully grab it. Especially gloves.”

He nodded, translating for everyone, then listening to a few follow ups. “Okay, so, just to be sure we’re all on, uh, the same page—Hoseok and I search and gather large and small supplies. Taehyung and Yoongi guard, but also grab things as they see them, and you’re guarding and searching as well?”

“That is correct,” You answered, curious. Had that not been clear? “I mean, I can also push one of the carts we brought but…I don’t even know if this place will have zombies. It was mostly an rehab center for old people, and I mostly think we’ll find gloves and hopefully a wheelchair or walker.” You shrugged.

Famous last words?

There were definitely a few zombies.

And by a few, you mean a few dozen.

Also, Hoseok was completely terrified of both the zombies and his weapons. No wonder he looked queasy.

You found a room that was empty and the five of you managed to get inside without zombies , locking and then barricading the door so you all could catch your breath and double check for injuries.

Yoongi grabbed you, moving you around and frantically checking you over, then sighing wordlessly.

“I’m fine. Were any of you hurt?” You asked, trying to visually assess Yoongi since he blocked your view of the others.

“We’re good, Tae had a close call, but he wasn’t bitten.”

Hoseok moved into your line of sight and pulled on Yoongi’s shirt, which somehow effectively pulled him away from you.

Which was good.

You were starting to feel a little nervous.

“Wheelchair!” Taehyung suddenly shouted, all signs of fatigue gone as he rushed toward a whole stack of them.

You looked around at the supplies, then met Namjoon’s gaze. “I guess this would be the supply room.”

Namjoon just grinned.

All of you quickly dispersed to fill your bags with supplies, Namjoon grabbing the different braces and checking how big they were, Hoseok carefully grabbing boxes of gloves and carefully looking over bandaging and such, and Taehyung still playing with the wheelchair.

Yoongi was trying to decipher the labels on the medicine.

You started bagging rubbing alcohol, peroxide, other creams and liquids that you recognized.

Which led to you being beside Yoongi helping grab medicines.

Yoongi seemed to look you over again. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” You answered again, shrugging.

Yoongi nodded, then showed you a label.

You nodded, then went to check on the other boys.

But Yoongi stopped you, a strange desperation in his eyes. “Stay by me,” He said firmly, anxiously.

You stared into his eyes for a moment.

“When leave, stay by me. Please,” He begged, grip on you tight.

You weren’t certain what it was about the way he asked, but the moment he asked, you knew you would say yes. “Okay. When we leave.”

All of you jumped when something banged on the door, but it didn’t sound forceful, and a glance toward the door proved that it was just one of the zombies lightly hitting the door with a cane. Geriatric zombies, those were a thing now. Zombies who used canes and possibly walkers.

Now if only they weren’t interspersed with other zombies that didn’t need such aids, getting out of there would be a cake-walk.

But like most of your life since the pandemic, of course it wouldn’t be easy.

“He should be fine,” Namjoon reassured you, pouring more peroxide over the nasty bite and ignoring Yoongi’s growl of pain.

“Why would he do that?” You asked in a whisper, shaken to your core. The five of you were in a different parking lot now, treating his bite since the coast was clear.

The boys just exchanged glances, then shrugged or muttered something.

“Well…he can take a bite and survive as long as we sanitize fast enough, whereas if you were bitten…that’d be it for you,” Namjoon said carefully, watching as Hoseok meticulously cleaned the wound and then applied antibiotic cream. “It’s preferable.”

“It’s still dangerous,” You whispered, then scanned the surroundings again for any interlopers. “And we’ll give him some antivirals just in case. I still don’t understand why…why he acts the way he does around me. One minute he won’t look at me, and the next he’s getting bit by a zombie so that I won’t be bitten.”

Namjoon looked uncomfortable, like he was hiding something.

Hoseok’s gaze darted up at you, and Yoongi was definitely looking a little red.

Taehyung was checking out the store-fronts, only a couple of steps away from the group. He pointed at one of the stores. “Why…why?”

You followed his gaze, noticing the door that you had marked. “I did that. I barricaded it and marked it. The back door too. I cleared it out. It’s safe to go in there. We’ll get you guys clothing, shoes, coats, and other extra things. But they may have gotten in through the back, so we should secure that before we start grabbing things. And I get to approve of the coats, because there’s a certain type you’ll need to make it through a winter here. Hats. Scarves. Gloves. Blankets. Sheets. Pots and pans. Dishes. You should stay in the truck,” You said pointedly, looking at Yoongi.

He rebelliously looked back, stubbornness in his features. “No. You go, I go.”

You huffed, and folded your arms, but you weren’t about to fight him as well. “Fine, but you’re staying back.”

His eyes narrowed, but that was the only response he seemed to give you.

Once Hoseok had bandaged it, and used one of the compression sleeves you all had liberated from rehab center to hold the bandaging in place and give it more protection, all of you carefully removed your barrier and then cautiously entered the store.

But the barricade on the back door was still in-tact, so you all blocked up the front door for while you were shopping, and each of you took a grocery cart or two with you. You went to the kitchen stuff first and filled a cart, then the home goods stuff and filled a cart. Checked on the boys, but they were trying on clothes and shoes together and seeming to discuss the sizes of the others.

So you went and got yourself some more clothing, your gaze continually catching on the night clothes and intimates.

But that was ridiculous. You didn’t need that stuff. You had no one to impress or dress for.

Then again….

After you put those carefully packed suitcases near the front with the carts you’d filled, then started going through coats, grabbing a few for yourself, but mostly pulling options for the hybrids. The warmest brands. Sturdy ones.

You flinched and jumped at the sound of someone sighing just behind you, staring at Yoongi as he examined one of the coats you’d set aside.

Yoongi met your gaze, looked back to the coat, then stepped closer to you. In your space.

You held your breath as he held you in his stare.

He stepped closer, body right next to yours, and then he ducked and tucked his face against your neck.

You froze, feeling his nose brush against your neck, his furry ears tickling your cheek.

Then his lips pressed to your skin and he pulled away, hand resting on the other side of your face, cupping it so that you didn’t look away as he pulled back.

After a second, amusement sparkled in his eyes and he smirked slightly.

Then he was walking away.

And you were frozen. Absolutely frozen.

Because what the hell was that.

Once you had a coat for each of them, including the ones that were waiting at home, they all sort of went to explore since they could.

You grabbed hats and gloves, some beauty products that it carried (which weren’t numerous). Socks. Boots for when yours wore out.

Then you and the boys carefully packed everything into the trailer before heading over to a farm store that you’d raided and secured before.

Except this time you had extra muscle power to load those wood-burning stoves into your trailer. And extra lumber, chicken wire and other fencing supplies, tools, oils, kerosene, butane, propane, rope, nails, screws, sleeping bags, tents, flashlights and lamps, brooders, feeders and waterers for all of your animals, extra chicken coops and rabbit hutches and just so many different and various things you needed or would need. And lots of seeds. And heavy duty work-boots, overalls, and other labor gear for everyone (yourself included, because you would wear through those boots eventually and your father had drilled in you the importance of good footwear).

Not because you couldn’t come back. With the gas you’d managed to salvage, you probably had enough for another eight trips if you kept decent speeds and your car stayed maintained. And your neighbor had been talking about rigging vehicles with alternate fuel sources, so if he ever got that working….

But you had to assume that he wouldn’t, which meant getting as much as you could while you were in town.

Which is why you thought it couldn’t hurt to see if that little oriental market that had been near there had anything that kept that they might enjoy. But it was smaller, so you told them only one other person could go in with you and still be able to fight, and that you’d prefer it be Namjoon since the two of you could communicate more easily.

There was extreme reluctance, especially since you hadn’t specified where you were going and there were several stores in that plaza, but with the walkie talkies that you all had acquired they finally agreed.

And you got five sacks of rice that still seemed to be okay.

Then you guys hit the plaza with two big-box stores. Getting storage containers, mattresses (because none of you trusted the mattresses left behind in the houses, and the boys insisted if they get one [bless them, they planned on sharing one] that you get one as well and Yoongi wouldn’t let you say no so you made them get two mattresses for themselves), and then you all split up to search the many food isles for unexpired goods.

And of course you got paired with Yoongi.

Neither of you said anything as you started walking up and down the isles, you pushing the cart because he was insisting on being the guard. Not that you guys thought there might still be zombies lurking around (you highly doubted there would be any still hiding after the way Taehyung had run around yelling happily once the group had finished killing the four or five zombies that were in there), but it was better to be safe than sorry.

So there you were, chucking snacks that had been chock-full of preservatives into the cart, and wondering if the cereals would be stale or if they could still be good after two years.

Wondering if he was ever going to say anything.

Grabbing just about every canned good after checking expiration dates.

Taehyung said more when he brought you guys two carts, speaking mostly to Yoongi, who translated roughly. Something about the other boys and medicine.

And then Taehyung was gone with the other two carts he had been pushing, and dragging your full cart away.

The store next door had yarns and fabrics that you all just packed right up, regardless of pattern or texture, as well as all of the threads and pins and beads, packing everything in more boxes and such. Raiding the notebooks, pens, pencils, books (including text books, which included English textbooks that Yoongi grabbed several of, and a Korean-English dictionary and textbooks that you grabbed since you figured they’d be there for a while and hey, what’s another language to pass the time), clothing (again, what could you say, you didn’t know how to make socks or comfortable underwear), instant-photo cameras (Taehyung was especially excited about those with main mentions of Jimin in his ramblings), another pharmacy raid, shampoo and soap, and all of the hybrid stuff that they could ever want, extra furniture that was easier to move, more dishes and cookware, candles, canning supplies, solar panels, solar batteries (could never have enough of those), more foods that you knew would keep (because you were now feeding eight people and Taehyung liked to snack, he was doing it in the store the moment you said something was still good), and then if the boys secreted some things into what you all got you didn’t pay attention since they also didn’t pay attention as you checked out the period supplies because that didn’t stop with the pandemic and though you had alternatives (which you picked up more of, thank the heavens) sometimes it was just easier.

And Taehyung had a cart full of ramen that you weren’t about to fault him for.

Yoongi was the only one awake on the drive home.

“What was that earlier?” You asked. “At the coat store.”

He sighed and you heard pages turning. “True partner.”

You waited for more, but that seemed to be all he was going to say on that front. “What does that mean?”

He sighed again, this time more aggravated and with a slight hiss to it. More pages flipping and you could see his frown in the rear-view mirror.

Finally a frustrated growl and the thunk of a book closing. “Home. Jungkook.”

“We’re almost there,” You replied quietly, sighing. “Almost there.”

Jungkook rushed out when you all arrived, grinning with relief. “Hyungs!”

“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi called back, hurrying to him and grabbing his wrists.

Jungkook immediately nuzzled Yoongi’s neck while Yoongi started muttering something, with glances toward you that soon had Jungkook staring as he gently fingered the fabric over the bandaging.

Taehyung raced inside.

Namjoon gestured to the load. “Unload today, or tomorrow?”

“Unload light stuff, leave the heavy stuff for later.”

He nodded, translating and calling Jungkook and Yoongi over.

You grabbed an old pumpkin cart and brought it over for them while Jimin brought over a couple of the grocery carts.

And Jungkook….

You had to scold him about eight-dozen times not to lift things that were too heavy, but every time he just grinned at you and cutely said “no speak English” and carried on (but it usually gave the other guys time to get over to him and at least help carry the heavier things.

Jimin was parked in the basement stacking canned and jarred goods on your food shelves and medicines and other non-food items on your other shelves, since it required less movement and he apparently aggravated his injury while all of you were gone. You were guessing one of the goats tried to get him, but Namjoon didn’t seem to know how to translate what was said, so you just left it at that.

Taehyung had rejoined everyone in unloading, and was working with you as a two man conveyor system for Jimin.

You swore Jungkook was trying to show off.

Yoongi took the suitcases that all of you had filled with clothing and coats and stacked them in your bedroom to go through later.

And before you knew it, the truck and trailer were almost completely empty.

Jungkook had ingredients out like he was about to cook, and he looked at you happily, as though inviting you to cook with him.

You nodded, gesturing for him to lead on.

He grinned and then brought you some vegetables. “Chop.”

You nodded, not even surprised as Yoongi also joined you and Jungkook and everyone else disappeared to ‘go check on Seokjin’. Because you could see Taehyung and Jimin playing outside and exploring one of the greenhouses, looking at the pumpkins, and Namjoon was just through the door, looking through a stack of books. Which meant Hoseok was probably the only one who actually went to check on Seokjin.

Yoongi and Jungkook somehow managed to give you enough instructions that you managed to help them, and when they couldn’t find an ingredient and couldn’t name it, you would play a guessing game with Yoongi. The hardest was probably soy sauce.

But the most surprising thing was probably how…touchy they were with you.

Or when Jungkook just came up behind you, wrapped one arm around your waist, shoved his face in your neck, and licked you.

Licked. You.

And you yelped, because all of that happened in about two seconds, and you could feel their surprisingly stunned stares as you booked it out of there.

You walked quickly across to one of the greenhouses, cursing frantically and pretending you were doing something completely routine by getting treats for your animals.

Namjoon found you, looking nervous. “Hey. Yoongi sent me to find you.”

“Fuck,” You hissed, picking up a pumpkin. “What the hell is going on, Namjoon? And I am not in the mood for and BS.”

He winced. “Um…what do you know…about…mates?”

“I suppose we aren’t talking about the British or Australian definitions, and more biological definition?” You led the way toward your rabbit barn and hutch.

He nodded, looking anywhere but you. “Definitely more biological.”

“Sorry you got caught in the crosshairs as translator,” You muttered, dropping the pumpkin so that it would break, and then putting pieces of it in the different hutches with some of the seeds for them to enjoy, but also giving them lots of fresh grasses and greens so that they wouldn’t overindulge. You’d give the rest of it to the goats and pig.

He shrugged, peeking at the rabbits. “Cute. So, for hybrids, potential mates are identified by smell a lot of the time. Jungkook and Yoongi are technically mates, but…they also identified you as a potential mate. So…they…want to stay near you.”

“So, hypothetically, if I had told them about a hybrid city that you all may have wanted to go to after leaving here and they reacted poorly to it, it would be because it was almost like an unconscious rejection of them?” You asked, darting glances toward him.

He snorted, and then started laughing. “Is that what happened? Geez, they’re so dramatic. Look, I already told them to take it easy around you because you are human and it might not be something you want for yourself. But…even if you aren’t…we would all like to stick around. Maybe not here exactly, but we could be close by and help you out when you need it. You’re the first person, hybrid or human, who has ever been kind to us. And we feel safe here. Would it be okay if we stuck around?”

You considered it for a moment, wondering what it was that made them feel so safe or comfortable. And if you were okay with what he’d said. Yoongi and Jungkook wanted you as their mate. As proposals went, you’d heard worse, but you also hadn’t known them long enough to commit to anything. “Tell them they have to play the long-game. And…I kept a couple of the nearby houses from having burst pipes the last two winters for when people pass through. If we get the one across the street set up with a power supply, you guys can live there. The house next door is for refugees on the move, and me. It’s easier to bathe there.”

He grinned at you. “We can stay?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not. But that means we’ll have to be frugal. I’ll need you guys to help me get two more greenhouses planted.”

“Sure! We can do that!” He grinned happily, bouncing on his toes.

“Great. Now, go tell the boys to stop attacking me with affection out of the blue.”

He laughed and hurried off to tell the others.

What had you just agreed to?

———

You weren’t sure what it was about Halloween that always brought more zombies around than normal. Maybe it was the swift approach of winter. The hard frosts. Urging them to migrate.

Either way, you’d had your work cut out for you from the moment you woke up.

Thankfully, the boys hadn’t wandered off alone at all, and never unarmed after you woke everyone by shooting the rifle.

You did lose another chicken though, the one that refused to go into the coop once she’d escaped the previous evening.

“Is that coffee?” Yoongi asked, gaze locked on your mug.

“Sort of,” You answered, gesturing to the pot. “There’s coffee in it, if that’s what you’re asking.” You’d combined your coffee-tasting tea with some of the frozen coffee grounds you had. You hadn’t resorted to your instant coffee yet. You weren’t ready to admit defeat. You weren’t ready to say goodbye to coffee.

But that day was fast approaching.

You would have to bid your vice goodbye.

Another gunshot alerted you to an issue out front, but you waited for the holler for assistance.

“We’re good!”

You nodded and poured Yoongi a mug of the sort-of-coffee sort-of-tea.

He took a sip and sighed. “Good.”

“Glad you like it,” You replied.

He nodded, then sat back beside you, surveying the fields for more zombies.

Jungkook came and sat between the two of you on the ground, leaning against Yoongi’s legs.

They sat with you in comfortable silence, though Jungkook was also tracing the seam along your calf. Barely touching, seemingly an absentminded action, but slowly capturing your full attention.

Jungkook peeked up at you, then back down, tugging on the seam. “Okay?”

You smiled. “Sure.” It was amusing that he wanted permission to play with a seam.

Yoongi glanced around, then got up. “Can see house?” He asked, pointing toward the house next door.

You looked around seeing Jimin and Hoseok coming around to relieve you and Yoongi from your watch. “Sure, just tell them where we’re going.”

Jungkook nodded, hopping up and racing to meet them, glancing back multiple times as they continued walking over.

Jimin gave you a thumbs up, and they took your places.

You led the two curious hybrids over to the house, glad you’d kept up with cleaning it once a week. It was chilly in there, but not freezing. And honestly, during winter, you preferred staying in there because of the bathroom. You’d set up a shower in the store, and a sort of bath, but usually if you really wanted to feel clean and bathe in nice hot water, you came to the house and indulged because it had an energy efficient water heater that could run on the power supply you generated all through the year.

Either way, the cozy house was clean and well-furnished.

Jungkook looked around curiously, straying a little.

Yoongi stayed close to you.

“Not much to see. I put overstock food in the basement when I need to.”

Yoongi nodded, then got closer to you, seeming to ponder his words carefully. “Namjoon told you, scents and things.”

You felt a decently strong urge to start running. “Uh, yes. Did he tell you what I told him?”

He nodded, then rolled up his sleeve. He rubbed against certain parts of his wrist and arm, then held it out to you.

You blinked at him, confused beyond reason.

“Smell,” He said quietly.

You looked between him and his arm skeptically, then leaned forward and casually sniffed his wrist.

Then you sniffed again, because who the heck smelled like petrichor?!

Jungkook eagerly joined the two of you, offering you his wrist.

Jasmine.

Your weaknesses.

Yoongi gently pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You smell nice with us.”

You closed your eyes.

“Oranges?” Jungkook guessed, nuzzling up to your other side.

And oh, those sneaky fluff-butts.

And didn’t they know that there were zombies around.

But of course they could tell how you felt about all of this thanks to their superior sniffers.

Which was probably how you ended up kissing Jungkook while Yoongi kissed your neck.

All of you stopped at the sound of a particularly loud gunshot.

Shortly followed by two more shots that had all of you hurrying out to make sure everything was under control.

You carefully avoided them the rest of the afternoon, not entirely certain you trusted yourself around them and their stupid petrichor and jasmine which were your favorites. And they said you smelled like oranges and what did that even mean aside from Yoongi saying that you smelled good with them. Were oranges a desirable smell?

But whenever you passed by them, or were near, they found a way to lightly touch your arm, brush their hand against yours, rest their hand on the small of your back, tuck your hair away from your face and you totally didn’t end up kissing Yoongi when he went with you to feed the broody turkey.

And you both definitely wouldn’t have been overtaken by a zombie if Jungkook hadn’t conveniently come by and shot it.

Jungkook peppered you both with kisses, as though those would help calm you from the close call, and then pointed out that he had set out the jack-o-lanterns.

You stared at the glowing pumpkins and started laughing, because, of all the things to prioritize that day, with zombies all around…he made sure the jack-o-lanterns were put out.

So maybe when all of it was you were assigning watch duty for the night, you made sure those two would be with you, because you felt safe with them looking after you. Both of them had saved you.

“Lonely?” Yoongi whispered, staring up at the stars.

“No,” You whispered back, fingers running through Jungkook’s hair. But this time that was all you needed to say. It was enough.

“Good,” Jungkook sighed, giving a sort of rumble of approval and melting further against you as you gently scratched behind his ears, fluffy tail wrapping around him and eyes drifting shut.

There was a long trial ahead of you. Learning their language, fighting zombies, making sure there was enough food to eat, fighting zombies, caring for the livestock, fighting zombies, and exploring whatever this was with Yoongi and Jungkook. Maybe even convincing them to try and make it over to the hybrid town, just to try and initiate trade or something.

There were a lot of things to think about, and consider, questions to ask and have answered.

But in the glow of the three jack-o-lanterns, with soft smell of petrichor and jasmine surrounding you and the sounds of the others talking and laughing inside, you weren’t worried.

You weren’t lonely. “Not anymore.”

Zombie Apocalypse Masterpost

Tagging: @lost-xim, @bryophytas, @young-yellkie, @alex--awesome--22, @missmoxxiesworld, @knjhe, @i-dont-even-know-fck,

418 notes · View notes

halstudandruz · 4 years

Text

Had Me By Halftime

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Kevin Atwater x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Based off the song Had Me By Halftime by Morgan Wallen

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: I know this game was on a Monday but we’re gonna pretend it wasn’t. Also I know there’s different rules to cornhole, but I did the 21 or bust version for sake of the story.

You were talkin' trash, we were tossin' bags

When I caught your name at a corn hole game

You and your friends had decided to tailgate at the Chicago Bears game. You were in your last semester of college and your group had collectively decided to forego buying tickets. Not wanting nosebleed seats, but knowing your broke college student bank account would not offer many other options. The parking lot was crowded with Bears fans; scattered Minnesota Vikings fans sticking out in the crowd. It was surprisingly warm for a Chicago October. You had just finished a game of flip cup and informed your friends you were going to get food from a nearby food truck, your best friend, Madison tagging along. You hadn’t made it far from your group when you made eye contact with a handsome man. Slowly walking you heard him talking to a man about the same age as him,

“Adam come on!” He exclaimed.

“I am not playing against him, he might as well be a pro.” The brown haired man shook his head.

“Don’t take it out on me cause I’m better than you.” Another good-looking brown-haired man from the group laughed shrugging and throwing an arm around a pretty blonde girl who wasn’t even paying attention to the men, already conversing with a group of girls. The handsome dark skinned man groaned seemingly pouting. Grabbing Madison’s arm you stopped her to pull her over to the group.

“You need a couple players?” You smiled gesturing to the corn hole boards.

“Actually yeah we do.” He nodded.

“Let’s roll.” You challenged taking your place by the board and picking up the orange bean bags. Madison sighed already reading your dirty thoughts about the man as she walked to the board opposite of you and the broad muscled man took his place next to you, gathering the navy blue bags. “Let me just get you a menu cause you’re about to get served.” You joked and luckily he let out an adorable laugh.

“That’s the best you got?” He sported a wide smile causing you to instantly blush.

“Yeah...sorry I’m not the best at trash talking. My game usually speaks for itself.” You shrugged, turning to throw the bean bag on the board Madison stood by. Watching it slide right through the center. Humming he looked at you impressed, gearing up when you threw him a seductive smirk.

“Let the games begin.” He grinned.

The game was close, full of playful banter, and maybe a little flirting from you and the man you now knew was named, Kevin. Luckily you and Madison came out on top thanks to Kevin’s partner’s accidental bust over 21 taking their score back down to 13.

“Ruz, you might want to take up a math class in your spare time.” Kevin teased, knowing he only aimed for the board because of his poor math skills.

“Shut up.” He attempted to throw a bag at him, but it fell short. “I’m never playing this game again.” Adam huffed, walking away.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” You shrugged, winking at him.

Said "Girl, where you sitti'g? I got an extra ticket

It's right on the 50"

“Sorry. He gets a little competitive.” Kevin smiled, “Thanks for playing though.” He leaned against the side of a truck crossing his arms. Madison stood awkwardly a couple feet away as you two flirted with each other.

“Thanks for letting us. It was nice to do something other than a drinking game for once.” You chuckled gesturing to where your group was now playing beer pong.

“Where are you guys sitting?” He asked gesturing to the stadium behind him.

“Oh we actually don’t have tickets. Just here to tailgate.” You explained and his smile got slightly bigger.

“Well I actually have an extra ticket. It’s right on the 50 if you want to join me?” He offered.

“Thanks, but I don’t want to just leave my group hanging..” You contemplated looking back at Madison who was nodding quickly mouthing the word “Go!” Sighing you turned back towards him with a smile, “you know what. What the hell why not?” You pushed the tingling of your body deeper down at his happy grin.

You had a 16 home team jersey on

Singin' every word to the fight song

Had your airplane bottles from your purse out

“Okay. I have to ask. Why are you wearing that jersey?” Kevin asked, sitting down beside you.

“Because we’re at...a Bears game?” You looked at him skeptically, causing him to laugh.

“Obviously.. I mean why O’Donnell? I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen someone actually wearing his jersey.” He explained.

“Well I do like to be an outlier,” you joked, “punters never get the credit they should. Same with kickers. They deserve more love.” You answered.

“Good to know you’re not a bandwagon fan.” He said.

“We won one super bowl 35 years ago and we just benched our newly signed QB for a rookie. I don’t think there’s any wagon for someone to hop on.” You retorted.

“You got me there.” He agreed watching you pull a few tiny bottles of alcohol out of your small bag you had strategically hidden to make it past security.

“You a fan of fireball? I hate it but it came with the pack.” You asked, turning to see an amused grin covering his face. “What?”

“How in the hell did you sneak those in here?” He inquired.

“Can’t give away all my secrets on the first date.” You shrugged, wiggling your eyebrows. He took it from your hand nudging Adam who sat on his other side. Adam took it graciously.

“Hell yeah. We’re keeping her!” He exclaimed, twisting the cap off to take the shot.

The first half of the game was rough. Only lucking out with a safety in the first quarter.

“I hope to god Trubisky starts to prove he has more than just a pretty face.” You shook your head preparing yourself for the second half. You and Kevin had talked throughout all of halftime, and you caught him staring with a wide smile more than once as you might’ve got a little too competitive throughout the first and second quarter.

“I could play better defense than his line is. Kev, get down there you know how to tackle people.”

“He does realize he’s supposed to be throwing it to his own team right?”

“Fucking 2 yards isn’t gonna get you anywhere!” Were just a few things you remember spouting off.

“This is ridiculous.” You threw up your hands when Rudolph took it into the Vikings endzone.

With 5:33 left in the 3rd quarter O’Donnell took the field for the punt, but instead to everyone’s surprise the punt is faked and #16 puts up a pass to Cunningham who runs it in for the touchdown. “Oh my god!” You jumped up and down, “No fucking way! That’s my man!” You yelled pulling Kevin in for a hug who was in utter disbelief.

“I cannot believe that just happened.” He laughed, cheering with the crowd. The fans were hyped watching Barth kick it between the posts.

“Believe it baby!

Bear down, Chicago Bears, make every play clear the way to victory;

Bear down, Chicago Bears, put up a fight with a might so fearlessly.

We'll never forget the way you thrilled the nation with your T-formation.

Bear down, Chicago Bears, and let them know why you're wearing the crown.

You're the pride and joy of Illinois, Chicago Bears, bear down.” You sang along loudly to the Bears’ fight song roaring throughout Soldier Field. The second half was much more heated than the first, but unfortunately thanks to a successful kick from Forbath in the last few seconds the Vikings took home the win.

You would've thought that post-game

Kiss would've made me wanna make you mine

But you had me by halftime

Everyone was starting to file out of the stadium, Kevin’s group included.

“You comin?” Adam turned to you both.

“You wanna wait till the crowds disperse a little?” Kevin asked and you smiled nodding.

“We’ll be waiting for you.” Adam winked, a knowing smirk covering his face as he grabbed tightly ahold of Kim’s hand to lead her through the crowd.

“You would’ve had to keep a tight hold on me. I’m small and can get lost easily.” You joked, body frame tiny compared to his broad muscular one.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure I do regardless.” Kevin flirted, looping an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him.

“I told you. Punters and kickers, they don’t get enough credit.” You reiterated, “I mean how often does the game come down to a field goal? Too often in my opinion.”

“I can give you kicker I’m not sure about punters though.” He looked at you amused.

“Did you miss that play?” You scoffed.

“And how often does that happen? I’m sure you didn’t buy his jersey banking on that.” He replied.

“Yeah, alright. I just thought O’Donnell was better looking than Barth.” You admitted.

“You really know your football though.” He observed.

“I grew up with three brothers. It just came with the territory.” You explained.

“Three brothers?” He looked over at you, a faint look of fear appearing on his face.

“Yeah, I’m sure you could take any of them though.” You bit your lip squeezing his bicep to get your point across.

“Is that so?” He grinned face inches away from yours.

“Mhmm.” You hummed searching his eyes, begging him to make the move and he did. Closing the distant for a gentle, smooth kiss. His hand caressing your cheek to pull you closer. This is nowhere near what you expected your day to turn into when you got up this morning. You were just supposed to be tailgating with your friends too drunk for your own good. Instead you were seated inside the stadium making out with a guy you had just met this morning. Not that you were complaining, but what were the chances?

“Was that okay?” He asked lips still slightly brushing against yours and as an answer you gripped his face pulling him in for a deep bruising kiss that had him groaning low in his throat. Pulling away to get a breath you looked around to see very few people still seated, a warmth buzzing throughout your body despite the chilly fall air becoming more prominent.

“We better get out of here before we get in trouble.” You whispered. And he nodded tightly clasping your hand in his as you made your way out of the stadium back out into the parking lot.

Now every time the leaves start fallin' down

I get to thinkin' 'bout

5 years later

“Kev, can you check on the pizza while I get Carsyn dressed?” You asked after seeing your daughter stir from her nap on the monitor. Walking in her room you retrieved her from the crib. She was all smiles and giggles. “Well I take it you had a good nap.” You kissed her chubby cheek, attempting to flatten her bed head before laying her on the floor to get her dressed. “Daddy is just gonna be head over heels when he sees you. Not that he isn’t already.” You smiled trying to slide her tights on despite her wiggling legs. Succeedingly picking her up 10 minutes later. “Look who’s awake daddy.” You caught Kevin’s attention as he turned away from the stove to take her from your arms.

“You didn’t.” Kevin laughed, a smile wide on his face when he took his daughter into his arms admiring the outfit she was sporting. A blue tutu accompanied by an orange jersey that repped the #16, outfit topped off with a Chicago Bears bow. “Well don’t you just look adorable. Yes, you take after your mama.” Kevin laid kisses all over her face erupting numerous giggles from her. “Where’d you even find this at?” He asked and you knew what he was talking about without even turning around as you took the pizza out of the oven.

“I had to specially order it as one of those custom name jerseys. Seems they don’t make O’Donnell’s jersey for babies.” You laughed checking on the wings in the air fryer when a knock at the door interrupted. Adam and Kim strolling their way into the kitchen minutes later.

“Where’s my girl?” Adam asked, spotting her in Kevin’s arms. Carsyn immediately reached out for Adam. “There she is and aren’t you just the cutest Bears fan in the whole world?” He tickled her stomach taking in her outfit, “Gotta say [Y/L/N] it looks better on her.” He joked gesturing to your identical jersey.

“Joke all you want this jersey got me a husband.” You leaned up on your tippy toes to lay a kiss on Kevin’s cheek.

The rest of your crew arrived not too much later. Hailey and Jay bringing along their son who was a few months younger than Carsyn. This was now a football season tradition and you loved every minute of it.

All Tag List:

@corebore123 @scarletsoldierrr @hehurst23 @beautiful-bunny89 @ingie @halsteadsway @malrunaway @grettiwrites @inlovewith3 @wanniiieeee

#kevin atwater x reader #kevin atwater imagine #kevin atwater #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #Chicago pd #one chicago imagine #one chicago

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pascalscenarios · 4 years

Text

THE ONE (Frankie Morales x Reader)

THE ONE

Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: You party with the bridesmaids in the city, only for you to get lost and ending up in Frankie’s care.

Warning: Alcohol consumption // Intoxication

Words: 2428

Authors Note: Find you someone that is willing to take care of you like Frankie Morales will. I cry.. - k

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4

Chapter 4

It’s been several weeks since the night you hung out with Santiago and Frankie. Tonight your bridesmaids were throwing you a party and heading into the city to celebrate you getting married and an excuse to party one last time like you were single. Your friends booked a hotel for the night so you all didn’t have to worry about getting home, and so that in the morning you could go shopping and have a fun day in the city.

You were ready to let loose. You needed it. Tonight was about having fun.

“Wow!” Alex says as he watches you walk out of the bathroom.

You give them a twirl and strike a pose in the outfit you were wearing “You like?”

“Like? I love it!”

You smile at their response as they come to give a kiss on the cheek.

“Are you sure you can’t just stay home?” they say, raising their eyebrow up.

“The girls have been planning this party for months! I can’t back out now and plus I need this.” Your phone buzzed on the coffee table. You walked over to pick it. It was your maid of honor texting you that they and the rest of the bridesmaids were outside waiting in the car.

“Ah! They're here! I gotta go!” You smile, picking up your bag, and stuff your phone inside.

“Alright, well have fun, and stay safe, if you need anything call me, yeah?” Alex gives you a hug.

“Of course! I’ll see you later. ”

With that, you headed outside, walking to the car that was parked in your driveway. “Hey everyone!” You smiled as you stepped into the car.

“Ready to party?”

“I’m more than ready!” You laughed. “LET PARTY BABY!” you yell as you turn up the radio in the car. Everyone cheered as the car pulled out of the driveway, starting your destination into the city.

…

“ANOTHER ROUND OF SHOTS! You yelled to the waiter over the loud music. You were taken to a popular club for your party. Your friends had given you a plastic crown that you wore on your head and a cheesy white sash that said ‘getting married’.

Right when you stepped foot into the club, you immediately started drinking. You wanted to forget about the wedding, forget about the mess with Frankie, forget about doubts you’ve been recently having about the wedding. You wanted to forget it all and just go wild.

That's what you did. You drank a shit ton of alcohol, you lost count of how much you had. You felt great and amazing throughout the time you were there, but you soon began to feel sick.

You were standing in the middle of the dance floor, looking around for your friends. As you looked around things began to swirl, your vision becoming blurry. You tried your best to make out where your friends could be, but they were nowhere to be found. You were sweaty and hot, the warm club atmosphere started becoming unbearable to be in. You felt like you were suffocating. You need to get out.

You rip the crown off your head and sash off. With your bag on your arm, you reached for your cell phone. You stumbled your way to the club exit. When you stepped outside you started to walk, not knowing where you were going. Was the hotel this direction or that direction or was it back there? Maybe you should turn back.

You turned back around only to realize you had no idea where you were or what direction you originally came from.

You looked at the time 1:13 am. Alex, you should call Alex. You unlocked your phone and clicked on Alex’s name. You pressed the phone against your ear, waiting for him to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“H-hey! I need you to pick me up” You slurred.

“What?” They sounded confused.

“I- don’t know where my friends went. I walked out of the club in the city and I-I'm kinda lost-lost I don’t know where I am”

They started talking, blabbing on about something, but you were zoning out.

“Hello? Hey! Are you there?”

“Hmm? What's up?”

“I need you to listen to me, okay? Do you know where you are?”

You giggled. “Ofc-course not! That's why I CALLED you silly! I need helpppp I don’t know where I am! Now Can you please come to pick me up? I wanna go home” You groaned.

“I’m going to come get you, but is there anything that's open near you or a place you can sit that is well lit?”

“uHhhhhhhh” you say as you spin your body around, scanning the area. You stop once you see a church that was lit up from the small spotlight lights that were stuck in the ground.

“I see a church...”

“Okay, good, can you tell me the name of the church?”

“Sainttttt Mary’s Baptisttttt Churchhhhhh” You say slowly, dragging out the words as you reading the light-up sign.

“I need you to go sit in front of the church and STAY there. Whatever you do, DO NOT move. Do you understand?”

“Okayyy.” You make your way over, stumbling over to the steps, you plop yourself down.

“Hey, don’t hang up, I want you to stay on the phone with me.”

“okIE Dokie, Artiechokie” you giggled. You place the phone on speaker and set it down next to you on the step.

“I’ll be there soon alright, just hang tight.”

You yawned. Laying down on the concrete step. You slowly drift off to sleep.

...

“Smiles…” You were being shaken away. You groaned, scrunching your face up.

“Smiles, come on you gotta get up.” The person sets you up slowly. You moan, feeling light-headed. You opened your eyes to see Frankie squatting in front of you.

“F-Frankie?”

He slips off his thick jean jacket and slips it over your shoulders.

“W-what are you- I-I called Alex?” You slurred.

“No, you called me.”

“What?- I’m so confused..I swear I called-” you say, placing your hand on your head.

“Hey, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’m gonna take you home.” He places his arm around your waist securely, helping you stand. You lean against him slightly as he leads you to his truck.

Your face lit up as you noticed his old beat up pick up truck. “Oh, my godddddd the red truck!’ You giggled. “Hahahah I remember all the funnnnn times we had in here” you couldn’t contain your laughter as you raised your eyebrows up and down.

Frankie opens the passenger door. “Come on, Smiles,” he says, helping you get into the truck.

You felt sick, a tight and unsettling feeling sat in your stomach. He was about to close the door, when you pushed it wide open, leaning over and throwing up out of the car.

“Whoa!” He says back up quickly, but it was too late, you throw up on his feet.

You lean into the bench seat, groan. You began to cry, embarrassed you just threw up on him and how drunk you got yourself.

“Hey, Hey, smiles don’t cry. It’s okay.” He says stepping over your vomit and moving your hair out of your face and caressing your cheek.

“H-how can you even say that? I threw up on your shoes…” you wailed. You were full-on ugly crying.

“It’s okay!” He laughs softly. “It’s no big deal. It’ll wash off and I got an extra pair of shoes in the back.”

“Are you sure? You aren’t mad?” you sniffled.

“No, not at all. I promise I’m not mad, there’s no need to cry.” he softly says wiping your tears and stroking your cheek. “Put on your seat belt.”

You listened to him. You picked up the lap strap and clicked it into the buckle. Frankie shuts the door, walking around towards the backside of the truck, leaving over the side to grab his extra boots. He walks over to the very back, popping open the tailgate to sit down and wipe out these throw-up shoes, with another.

You felt the car dip back up. The tailgate slam shut, and Frankie comes around and slides into the truck.

He puts the key into the ignition and turns on their car.

In the cup holder was a water bottle. He picks it up, handing it to you.

“Here, drink some water.”

“Thanks,” you say, taking the bottle.

Frankie put the car and drive and headed out of the church parking lot.

…

Frankie had been driving for a while. It was silent most of the time, small talk here and there.

“What are we doing here?” you asked, your eyes tired as you started at the neon diner sign as he was pulling into the parking lot.

“Getting food, what does it look like?” He says driving into the stall.

“But it's like almost 3 AM…”

“So. I know you’re hungry and probably haven’t eaten much since clubbing”, he says, opening his car door and hopping out.

You were pretty hungry. You sigh, opening the car door. Frankie came on your side helping you out of the car. You still had Frankie's jean jacket around your shoulders. You quickly slip your arms into the sleeves after feeling the cool breeze of the early morning.

You stand beside the truck, getting a better look at the diner. You smile realizing where you were. “Dolly’s,” you say quickly looking over to Frankie.

You and Frankie used to come to Dolly’s all the time when you were dating. They were open late at night, into the early morning. Sometimes in the middle of the night, you would crave breakfast and pancakes. You would drive to Dollys to get your fix.

You both started walking to the entrance, you still a little wobbly, grabbing onto Frankie's arm for stability. Frankie opens the front door, allowing you to walk in first.

You were hit with the smell of coffee and bacon sizzling on the greasy stove. There were a few people scattered around the quiet diner.

“Frankie Morales!” You hear Ms. Dolly yell from behind the counter, grabbing two menus and walking over to you both. She was the sweet old lady that owned the Diner. Dolly and her husband bought it in the ’50s and haven’t stopped working.

He takes off his hat and fixes his hair to look more presentable. “Hi, Ms. Dolly.”

“What are you- oh my!” she says as she notices you standing beside him. “Sweetheart! It’s been so long!” she says, pulling you into a hug.

“Hi Ms. Dolly”

“I haven’t seen you in ages! And you’re here with sweet boy Frankie! Gosh, you kids are making me feel so old! I remember when the two of you used to come here all the time when you were in college and Frankie was still in uniform.” She gushed.

“Ms. Dolly, it's so late, and you’re still working!”

“I live and breathe this place! I may look old, but I’m still going strong!” She laughs. “Gosh, you don’t need these menus, I still remember your orders! Go sit wherever you like, your food should be out in a jiffy!”

“Thank you!” you and Frankie say walking and slipping into a booth.

“I haven’t been here in ages.” You look around the dinner, it still looked the same as you remembered it. “Brings back good memories, fun memories of the two of us”. You smile at Frankie.

“It does. This was always our favorite place to eat... I come here every once in while. Sometimes I’ll bring-” he stops himself, not finishing his sentence.

“Bring who?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. Was it the person he was talking to on the phone at Santiago's house?

“I come here with-”

“Here you are darlings.” Ms. Dolly placed a huge stack of pancakes, with a side of bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns and two orange juices and extra plates in front of the both of you.

Frankie watched as your tired eyes lit up at seeing the breakfast. Your mind instantly forgot about what you two were talking about before.

“Dig in! If you need anything let me know!”

You quickly lung for your favorite, the pancakes. You pick one up biting into it. You grab a plate and the syrup, pouring the sticky brown liquid into the plate. You take the pancake, rubbing it on the plate to soak it in syrup, then take another bite.

You moaned at its taste. It tasted so good, like heaven.

Frankie smiles at you. You never liked cutting up your pancakes. You liked to eat it whole, dipping it into syrup. He shakes his head as he fills up his plate with food. “Still the same Smiles I know.”

…

“I’m tired and full… mostly tired.” You groaned leaning into the booth. “Future me is going to kill me in the morning, Frank.”

“I’ll take you home.” He takes out money from his wallet and drops it on the table. He places his hat back on his head, and slides out of the booth walking over to your side, helping you stand up.

“Thanks, Ms. Dolly!” You drunkenly wave and Frankie holds you up.

“Bye! Come back and visit now!”

Frankie thanks Dolly, then walks you to the car helping you get in.

Once your both were n the car and buckled up, Frankie started the car and started to drive back home.

You slide yourself across the bench seat, pressing up against Frankie. You lean your head against his shoulder as he drives.

“Thank you, Frankie,” you say, closing your eyes.

“For what?” He says, his eyes focused on the road.

“Getting up at the wee hours of the morning to get my drunk ass and for buying me breakfast” You chuckled. “You didn’t have to do that, but that’s one of the things I love about you.”

Frankie felt his heart stop. He grew tense at what you said.

“I love that you’d go out of your way to help anyone. You always had such a big heart. You’re gentle, patient, caring, and loving. I’ve always loved that about you. It’s the reason why I fell in love with you as a kid. Before I even knew what love was...” he can hear you growing tired, your voice slowly fading as you yawned.

You deeply sigh, “You’re the one I…the one…” you stop talking, not finishing what you were saying

He was waiting for you to continue speaking. “The one? The one what, smiles?” he asks, wanting to know what you were going to say.

You remained silent.

“Smiles?” he turned his gaze down towards you. You let out a little snore, you were out cold, sound asleep.

Frankie leans down, kissing the top of your head, and continues to drive home.

tags // @icanbeyourjedi

#triple frontier #Frankie Morales x Reader #francisco morales #frankie morales #Frankie #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #pedro

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aficwhore · 3 years

Text

Truth Is (Chapter 3)

Chapter 3: Paper Weighted Problems

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!reader

Summary: After the night before, tensions between Fish and Chip arise. While tearing through the jungle and Lorea’s place, Frankie and the reader fight, leading to an amazing discovery.

Word count: 3K

Warnings: explicit language, blood, violence, guns/weapons, lots of angst and emotions, infidelity?, smut, sexual innuendos, drinking, mentions of drugs, talk of death/death itself, and talk of mental health(PTSD and depression).

A/N: Sorry for the late update, Life has its ups and downs! Today we had a bad storm so I sat in my basement and wrote this. I hope you like it<3

Regret. Frankie couldn't hide the emotion from me. It was as clear as day, I wondered if the boys had noticed it.

“Well what’s for breakfast?” I broke the awkward silence, causing everyone but Frankie to break their gazes away from me, but exchanges looks between each other. I finally looked anywhere but in Frankie’s direction.

Tom cleared his throat, “Uh nothing special, we saw that you had some frozen waffles and just made those.” He tried to lighten the mood, it was obvious, everyone knew about last night.

“Haha, yea, what grown woman buys Eggos?” Benny attempted to joke, causing Santi and Will to stifle a laugh.

I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile, thoughts of Frankie still clouding my mind. “For occasions just like this one! When five grown men have a slumber party in my living room.” I added, walking over to the counter and grabbing a plate full of waffles and dowsing them in syrup.

“Right, because that’s definitely what it was.” Tom chuckled, handing me a napkin.

“Exactly, I’m pretty sure I saw Pope braiding Benny Boy’s hair.” I joked biting into a chunk of food.

Ben scoffed, “It gets in my eyes!” And everyone froze, staring at him in shock. After a second of complete silence, Frankie burst into laughter, sending the rest of us into a laughing fit, except Ben. He stood there blushing, trying to act like he didn’t reveal that he braids his hair.

Will began to cough, struggling to not choke on the mouthful of food while he snickered. Pope roughly patted him on the back as our giggles died down.

“So, does that mean you sit in the mirror and braid your own hair?” Tom questioned with a smirk on his face, wanting to bother Benny more.

“You shut up.” He jokingly spits. Tom raises his hands as a sign of defeat and continues to finish the last bites of food on his plate.

“Anyways...Other than our ‘slumber party’ I know two people that had some fun last night.” Pope spoke up, causing mine and Fish’s eyes to open wide.

“Oh yea, how could we forget? ‘Oh FrAnKiE, Oh YeS! HaRdEr!’” Benny mimicked me while thrusting his hips for dramatic affect. I could feel heat rising to my face as the boys roared with giggles again.

“Would you cut it out?” Frankie replied, wanting to avoid this talk entirely.

Then Pope joined in, making fun of Frankie, “’FuCk, bAbY, I wOn’T LaSt LoNg!’” I sat there, embarrassed and not knowing what to say. Normally this would be a joke, but with everything, this wasn’t a joking matter.

“I said enough!” Frankie shouted, “It shouldn’t have happened, okay?!” He expressed, shoving his chair back, getting up, and storming outside.

All the commotion died immediately. Pope and Benny opened their mouths to apologize when they turned to me, but were met with a blank stare.

Did he really mean that? After pursuing me? After trying so hard to make up, he goes and says ‘It shouldn’t have happened.’

Everyone remained quiet, continuing to stare at me in concern. After what felt like hours, Tom pushed his seat back and got up, hopefully headed to catch Frankie.

Once Tom had made it out the front door, I cleared my throat, "So, what time are we leaving?" I asked, trying to hide all the hurt and pain from my eyes.

The three remaining men all exchanged looks, "Here in 15." Santi spoke quietly, unsure of what exactly just happened.

"Sounds good!" I faked enthusiasm, stuffing my mouth with the last bite on my plate and getting up. I swiftly put my dishes in the sink and headed back to my room. I could hear the boys whispering to each other, trying to understand what the hell was going on with Frankie and I.

I closed my door behind me. I leaned against it, letting my head fall back with defeat and hit the door. Feeling my emotions topple over the brim, tears rushed to my eyes as I slid down the door and sank to the floor.

What the fuck was going on? Why was Frankie so upset with our actions. I thought finally we had made up, that he was once again MY Fish. Had he just used me last night? What changed his mind? Why was this happening all over again?

Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't realized that my sobs were now audible. I couldn't hold back the garbled gasps I let out. Tears stained my cheeks and began to soak my shirt.

Through the door I could hear the boys trying to get each other to come get me, because it was close for us to leave. Not wanting to deal with the water works anymore, I slapped my cheeks a few times, trying to smack the emotions out of my head. I wiped my tears off and quick got up to change my shirt.

After rummaging through my clothes, I found a similar shirt, threw it on and swung open the door, wanting to just head to the airport, and to get this over with.

Holding my head up high, I confidently walked back to the kitchen/living room to meet the boys. Only Benny and Will stood there waiting for me, finishing the dishes and putting them away.

"All set? I'm ready to get this over with and be rich." I attempted to joke, causing the brothers in front of me to awkwardly chuckle, their eyes full of worry.

Benny shook his head, acknowledging that I wanted to ignore the fiasco and to get on the road. He led the way out of the apartment after hanging up a dish towel and grabbing his wallet and keys off the counter.

I followed quickly behind him with Will right on my heels. When we made it to the cars, Frankie sat in the front passenger side of Santi's truck, Santi in the driver seat, and Tom between them.

"I'll drive," Will offered, making his way to his truck and getting in. Benny walked ahead of me, opened the door and waited for me to hop in, before getting in after.

No one spoke as we tailgated Santi's truck all the way to the airport. Will placed his hand on my thigh the whole time, as a way to console me. Benny had his arm around me, slightly pulling me into his side. With them, I felt much better, they were my best friends and knew exactly how to comfort me.

When we found a good parking space, we all hopped out, and grabbed our things from the bed of the trucks. It was still awkwardly silent between everyone.

As we checked into our flights and went through TSA, Benny tried to lighten the mood by saying he needed a snack, even though we had just ate. We all giggled when Will called him a 'garbage disposal.'

Sitting at our flight gate was almost unbearable, realizing this mission would be very difficult, now with the added tension.

When we boarded the plane, Will and Santi sat with me, of course I was in the middle. Tom, Benny, and Frankie sat in the seats next to us. During the first hour I attempted to read a book, but quickly got bored as I felt Pope fall asleep and rest his head against my shoulder. Will sat with his eyes closed and headphones in.

I glanced over Pope's sleeping frame to find the others. Benny was leaned forward, head down and snoring on the tray he had propped up. Tom was slouched in his chair, his head lulling back and forth with sleep consuming him. And Frankie, who was also reading, looked up and met my eyes.

I ignored the gaze he gave me and turned my attention back to my book. Moments later I felt my phone buzz with a text. I sat my book down and pulled out my phone, reading the message;

Fishie: "I'm sorry..."

I rolled my eyes, was he really apologizing for his blowout, over a text?

Locking my phone, I put it face down into my lap, leaving the message unanswered. I continued my page in my book, only getting past a few sentences before my phone vibrated again. I acted as if I didn't feel it and remained reading. Only for it to ping again.

Frustratedly, I opened my phone again, seeing two additional texts;

Fishie: "Really?"

Fishie: "I meant what I said. I am sorry, but last night... was a mistake."

Heat began to rise to my cheeks, I forcefully typed back;

Me: "Wow, you are unbelievable."

I heard him shuffle and type back quickly;

Fishie: "Because I apologized? It's true, I'm only helping us both here. Yea it was my fault, but I shouldn't have gone to your room."

Me: "You took advantage of my feelings. You acted like we can just ignore this, I can't help but feel you led me on."

Fishie: "Led you on?! How? WE both decided to sleep together, thats it. I didn't LEAD you to do anything."

Me: "You're a real fucking piece of work."

Fishie: "Oh really?"

Me: "Yea, fuck you."

Fishie: "God you are the most stubborn and hard headed person I've ever met. Can't you see that this was a damn mistake?"

Me: "Screw you, oh wait, I did, but look where that got me. I don't even know why you're trying to apologize, because somehow you keep shifting the blame to me."

As I hit send and shoved my phone between my legs and put my book away, I heard Frankie huff with anger. Awaiting a reply I closed my eyes and leaned against Will, using his arm as a pillow.

But for a while, nothing came, and I slowly began to drift into unconsciousness.

My sleep had been interrupted by the plane shaking and a loud thump. I opened my eyes abruptly, and slightly frightened. I faced Will, to glance out the window and found that we had finally landed in Colombia.

We all silently gathered our things and slowly made our departure from the plane and airport. Once we trudged through the doors, we made it into the humid climate, the wet air immediately dampening our skin and clothes.

"Damn, this is gonna be fun." Benny chirped as we all huddled into the jeep Santi had prepared for us. Santi hopped upfront, and so did Tom, leaving four of us to try and fit in the backseat.

"Pope, there six of us, there's no way we'll fit AND have room for the bags." I spoke up, watching as Will, Benny, and Frankie smushed into the seats together.

"I know, I promise I'm more prepared than that," he laughed. "We only have to ride like this for a few miles, then we're on foot, and they'll have cargo vans there." He explained, turning on the engine and motioning for me to somehow get in.

"You can sit on my lap, I'll hold you down during Pope's insane driving." Benny laughed from between Will and Fish. I climbed over Will, careful not to hurt him, and landed in Ben's lap when he yanked the arm I used to brace my weight.

I twisted in his lap to sit comfortably, hoping I'd fit and we could just hurry up and get this over with. Benny wrapped his arms around my waist as Santi sped off and made way to a long and bumpy road.

We hit quite a few bumps and potholes, causing me to shift and bounce in Benny's lap. I tried to lean forward and hang in-between the two front seats, to help alleviate the rough contact between us.

"Damn it Chip, quit wiggling." Benny grunted from behind me.

"I can't control that, Pope is hitting every possible bump on the road." I squeaked as we hit a particularly hard one. I landed back into his lap and felt something. "Ouch, what the hell is in your pocket."

Will snorted and faced the window to hide his face as Benny gulped loudly. "I-I can't help it, you keep moving!" I froze, wanting to still believe it was something in his pocket.

"C'mon man, can't you control yourself?" Frankie angrily spoke up.

I pulled my back from Benny and sat as far forward on his legs as I could, turning to look at Frankie. "What? How is it-" I countered, my voice dying in my throat.

"Fish, you know how it works, it's not like I'm doing this on purpose." Benny awkwardly explained.

Frankie huffed and shook his head. "Whatever." he muttered.

"Looks like someone is jealous." Santi quietly joked.

"I am not jealous! We-we are on a damn mission! That should be the last thing from anyones mind, we need to focus on not dying and getting the fucking money." Frankie snapped, filling the jeep with his booming voice.

All noise ceased, the only sound was the creaking of the car as we rolled off the main road into a trail. The tension was at an all time high, it was engulfing and in a way, suffocating.

After some time, we stopped, Santi throwing the car in park and quickly turning to us. "My informant said that the mansion should be vacant, but we only have about 15 minutes, so we get in and get out, with as much as we can carry, but we can't take too much time." We all nodded. "When I get the signal, we're coming in hot and getting right to it. Get out and suit up." He turned back around and hopped out.

We followed behind, pulling out our bags and pulling on our gear. Not much else was said, due to the shit that was about to go down, even though it would be empty, you never know what could happen.

"Alright, obviously with everything, we no longer fit, I'll ride the side." I spoke, waiting for Will to get in and shut the door.

"Me too, easier that way." Frankie offered, shutting his door after Benny jumped in.

Will shut his door and I placed my foot on the step bar, hauling myself up to grab the rack on top for support, hanging on tight as Frankie did the same. "All good?" Pope asked through the window.

"Game time bitches." I quirked, slapping my free hand on the top of the Jeep. As we waited for the signal, I took in my surroundings, lush, thick forest all the way around, If Pope doesn't know where to go, we'd definitely get lost.

As I admired the greenery, I turned to look over the roof of the car, meeting Frankie's eyes for what seemed like the millionth time since we've reunited.

He sheepishly looked away and down at the ground, his knuckles which wrapped around the frame of the rack, tightened and turned white.

A garbled and staticky noise came from the cab of the vehicle, causing Pope to slam the gear shift into drive and yell "Hold on tight!" He lurked the jeep forward, stepping up the speed.

I held on tighter, pulling my body as flush as I could to the side of the Jeep, to avoid hitting the branches and brush that littered the sides of the overgrown trial.

After a long blur of green, the forest broke into a path, leading to a small mansion. Just as fast as we drove, we stopped. I jumped off and quickly swung the door open for Will, stepping back and pulling my gun from my side.

Without any words, we all strategically filed into the house, making sure to take cover and search the premise, eliminating any threats. The first floor had been barren, as for people, though it was filled with expensive artwork and furniture.

Once we all searched and met at the staircase, Pope nodded at me, signaling for me to take the lead upstairs and sweep the area. I quickly glided up the stairs and took cover near the first door, getting ready to burst in the room and check. To my luck, when I leaped into the room, it was empty. I glanced behind the door, and walked further into the office, keeping my gun at attention.

I could hear the boys doing the same, in the last four rooms. I observed the room, a big desk sat in the middle, a fancy chair accompanied it, the walls were decorated with paintings and portraits. The was a door in the corner, which I strode over to, swinging it open, full force. An alarmed Fish sat on the other side, the door led to the next room. I quickly pointed my gun at the ground and rolled my eyes, turning to examine the room again.

"Clear!" I yelled, letting the team know our section was safe.

Frankie walked through the door and up to me, as I sifted through the desk. "Hey I just wanted to talk real quick."

"Really? Now is not the time, look for the money." I spat back at him. "Any luck?!" I yelled hoping someone found something.

A faint voice answered, "No! I swear, she said there was money here!" Pope echoed.

Getting antsy, I shoved the desk, causing it to fall over, Frankie stepped back, "Listen, I didn't mean to make things worse, okay? Trust me I wanted nothing more than to be with you again."

I paused my movements, holding a paperweight in my hand, "No Frankie, you've done enough, either you want me or don't." I spoke harshly.

"Damn it Chip, just listen!" He raised his voice.

"No! I'm not doing this again, get your shit together and fucking look for something!" I yelled, bending down to put the weight down. He leaned forward and grabbed my arm. "Fuck you!" I yanked away, causing the paper weight to leave my hand and barrel into the wall.

The wall cracked, a hole forming as the weight bounced off and fell to the ground. "Look at what you did!" Frankie gasped with frustration.

I whipped around, walking to the wall, grabbing the paperweight. As I stood, I stopped halfway up when I was met with the hole. But it wasn't just an empty wall or beam behind it. There were plastic packages sticking out, which is very unusual for houses. Frankie began to murmur again.

"Shh! Shut Up!" I shushed him, reaching into the hole and tugging at the bag.

"You never let me talk-" Frankie continued.

"Frankie shut the fuck up! Look!" I screamed when the bag came out of the wall and into my hands. I Twisted on my heel and showed him the bag, which contained a huge stack of One-hundred dollar bills.

"Holy Fuck." Frankie gulped, making eye contact with me.

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