josh jenkinson x reader w/ a meetcute?! maybe they meet at a mutual friends halloween party and maybe readers dressed up as uma thurman in kill bill (cuz it’s one of josh’s fav movies) and that gets them to talking?! i imagine readers in a band too so maybe she knows eli or someone.
pray for the weekend
josh jenkinson x reader
word count - 800+
thanks so much for requesting!!
american bitch - between friends
sweat dripped down your temple as you navigated the crowded club, grace’s hand clutched in yours, trailing behind you closely.
it was halloween. you, grace and lucy were dressed up as quentin tarantino movie characters. you’d gone to inhaler’s show that evening at royal albert hall, mainly in support of your friend eli, and his girlfriend—your bestfriend—grace.
it wasn’t that you didn’t want to go, not really. the truth was, your boyfriend of about six months broke up with you last week, and you didn’t want to mope around all night pretending to have fun.
but grace and lucy, like always, pulled you out of the house and helped to put together a last-minute costume with them.
inhaler’s show had been enjoyable, but this party wasn’t really your scene, no matter how hard to tried to pretend it was. alcohol and being with your friends certainly helped, though.
you played guitar for audrey hobert, and toured with her last summer, which is how you met eli, and so forth.
meeting eli and the girls was honestly one of the best things that could’ve happened, both career-wise and friendship-wise. they really helped to get you out of your shell.
like tonight.
“grace, i have to be honest. i don’t really know where i’m going,” you said loudly over music and voices.
“lucy said she’d meet us over there! how big could this house possibly be?”
you couldn’t recall what happened in between trying to find the bar and bumping into a stranger, spilling his drink all over his dress shirt.
“jeez, i’m so sorry!” you blurted! you looked around briefly, grace no where to be found, and then back at the tall, handsome stranger. he looked oddly familiar, but your drunk, disoriented mind couldn’t put the pieces together quite right.
“that’s okay, really,” he chuckled. and then, looking up at warm brown eyes and his silly phantom of the opera costume, you recognized him from the stage earlier that evening.
“no, really. i’m stupid,” you added, and grabbed a crumpled napkin to try (and fail) to dab the liquid from his shirt. every new thing you did was something to add to the ‘cringe about this tomorrow morning’ list. “…um, is there any chance you were on stage tonight?”
he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, “yeah, that was me. i play guitar in inhaler, with eli and the guys. oh—i’m josh, by the way,” he awkwardly extended the same hand to shake yours.
oh. oh. “hi! it’s really nice to meet you,” you took his hand with both of yours, shaking it quite aggressively. “i’m y/n.”
“it’s nice to meet you too, y/n,” josh said. “i like your costume. kill bill’s one of my all-time favorites.”
“really? mine too!” you said excitedly.
“really?” josh asked, grinning now.
your face dropped momentarily. “no, not really…i needed a last minute costume idea and grace had a yellow track suit in her closet already.”
“well maybe i can show it to you one day,” josh said genuinely.
“that would be really great, actually,” you blushed. “i’m really sorry, i’m not usually like this, but you see—i wasn’t really supposed to be here and—“ you began.
“really, all’s good,” josh cut you off politely. “would you wanna get some fresh air or something? i feel kind of claustrophobic in here,” he offered.
on your way out, you managed to grab grace and lucy, explaining your situation briefly and telling them to keep you posted. they both nodded in understanding, already caught up in their own things too at this point.
you and josh stepped out of the club and into the cool london night air. you could see him more clearly now in the streetlights, and gosh, was he pretty. warm brown eyes and dark brown hair, tall and handsome and sweet and everything you could possibly want right there in front of you.
you walked for a while, just wandering until you found a bench to sit, staring up at at the full moon and few stars in the sky. london buzzed in the background, but it was only you two for now.
“so how do you know eli?” josh asked, kicking his feet out in front of him.
“oh, i play guitar for audrey hobert…and gig a bit myself. we met at glastonury last summer, i suppose i just didn’t catch you too.”
“you write your own stuff?” josh inquired.
“yeah! i do. sometimes. i’d like to do something like that someday.” you said, a bit wistful.
“i’d love to hear something sometime, if you wouldn’t mind,” he replied.
“yeah, of course. sure,” you nodded, “but only after we see kill bill,” you added, making him laugh.
the night ended with exchanged numbers, and meeting back up with the band and grace and lucy and martha. the girls gushed about how perfect you and josh would be together as you walked back to the hotel together.
your mood had certainly lifted from earlier, alcohol, friends, love, and a new connection raced through your mind as you held hands with grace, swinging your arms back and forth with a bit of a pep in your step. maybe the party wasn’t so bad after all.
content - christmas with john in your first house together :)
word count - 1.1k
you were nothing short of ecstatic as you practically skipped up and down the basement stairs, boxes full of christmas crap in your arms.
it was mid december, and you had moved into this apartment in early august. john had gotten the surgical residency at county general he wanted so badly, you were doing the same in pediatrics, and you even convinced him to adopt a kitten. you had some friends and family close by, and things finally seemed like they were going to work out.
john was sitting on the carpet in the living room, trying to untangle a ball of lights. there was a roast in the oven, a fire in the fireplace, and all sorts of christmas stuff scattered around the kitchen and living room. an undecorated, real fraiser fur was up it its stand in the corner. “the carter tradition,” he’d called it.
there was about a week until christmas, and you could hardly contain your giddy excitement. best of all, you were hosting friends and family this year, meaning you could go all out with an elaborate, festive menu.
“you need help?” you asked, closing the basement door with your hip since your hands were full.
“got it, babe, thanks,” he replied, smiling up at you briefly.
“don’t look like you got it,” you said in a sing-song voice. in the corner of your eye you saw that he was halfway wrapped around the string of lights, but you chose to ignore it for the time being. you moved to put the boxes down on the kitchen table, placing them down with a thump.
“i got it, babe,” john repeated, and scoffed a laugh, “do you mind grabbing me my glasses, though?”
“sure,” you smiled, grabbing the little case and puling them out for him, checking if they were clean before handing them over. when you were close enough, he rested his hand on the back of your neck gently to press his lips against yours.
your nose brushed against his when you pulled away. “hi.”
“hi, sweetheart,” john laughed softly. he placed his hand on the small of your back as you crouched down next to him. his cheeks were pink from the cold, and his eyes were the warmest shade of brown. you felt mushy looking at him. his sweater was old and cozy and his back was warm from sitting facing away from the fireplace.
“i’ll be done in a sec and then we can do ornaments, okay?” john said softly, bumping his nose against yours gently.
“okay,” you agreed with a nod, reluctantly getting up and padding back to the kitchen. the dark, hardwood floors creaked under your fluffy-sock clad feet.
he managed to get the lights unwrapped without tangling them further while you quickly checked on dinner and took the ornaments out of their padded cardboard boxes. some were from your families or ones you made as kids, others were newer, nice ones from department stores.
“do we really need to keep this one?” you asked with a laugh, holding up one that was a snowflake with a picture of you stuck to the middle, probably from around kindergarten.
“what?” john made a sarcastically incredulous face, “that one’s a gem baby. goin’ smack dab in the middle.”
you would’ve protested, but the next ornament you pulled out was one of john. “look at those cheeks!” you exclaimed, holding it up to show him. it was a cut out of his face in the middle of a paper wreath, with a little hook at the top. his cheeks were chubbier, but those bright eyes and bunny teeth were the exact same.
he laughed and his face went a little pink. “touché,” he snatched it from you. “it’ll go right next to yours, then.”
it took you about half an hour to put all the ornaments up, then the tinsel messily wrapped around and the star at the very top, before storing the boxes away. by then, dinner was ready and you and john were starving.
you ate and admired your hard work. the tree was a little wonky but still beautiful. you decorated the mantle with greens and candles, and put other little things here and there all over the home. you and john’s apartment, even without the christmas madness, was coming along quite nicely. it felt like home, especially after he felt unwelcome in his own for so long.
“do you wanna play mancala? …or rum?” you asked, putting your dish in the sink.
“mancala sounds good. if you go set it out i’ll clean up dinner.” john offered. in passing, he smooched your cheek, making a gross mwah sound.
you scrunched your face up, but really didn’t mind at all. “you’re the sweetest,” you smiled.
“i try my best.”
you set the game out on the living room table, putting whatever christmas movie happened to be on tv as background noise. after being beat by you three times in a row, john gave up.
“hey, you can’t do that!” you exclaimed jokingly, leaning over to kiss him.
“do what?” john asked when he pulled away for a breath. he shifted to face you on the couch.
“i’ll let you win if you play me just one more time,” you started, and placed your hands gently on his thighs.
“no can do, baby. for my ego,” john continued, and kissed you again with a bit more vitality. he moved his hands up to cup your face, and you felt his face get warm. it was rare that he was so forwardly affectionate with you, but it was much appreciated when it did happen.
after making out for a while longer, you flopped back into the couch cushions, redirecting your attention to whatever crap was on tv. your eyes drifted to the half-packed suitcases next to the stairs; a reminder of your late-december munich trip coming up soon. you decided, after much consideration, that you could do christmas eve with his family, christmas day with yours, spend a couple days in germany at churches and christmas markets and whatnot, and then celebrate new years with friends.
would this plan realistically fit into both your rigorous schedules? no, probably not, but you would try anyway.
“i love you,” john said, turning his head to look at you. your faces were a mere couple inches apart.
“i love you too,” you replied sincerely, and gently brushed your lips against his. “i’m so happy we get to spend the holidays together.”
“me too,” john pressed his lips to yours again, for real this time. outside, snow fell and cold winds blew, but inside your little apartment that you called home, it was warm and full of love.
I love ur cam stuff i think it’s super cute!!! Can I request a friends to lovers where cam and reader go to a holiday party and they get in a situation where they have to confess to each other?
‘tis the damn season
cameron winter x reader
wc: 1.1k
the december air was crisp. your cheeks were pink from the cold wind as you walked with cameron from his car to your friend’s front door. you were carrying a bottle of wine and cameron had a last-minute, pre-made grocery store charcuterie board.
there was a dusting of snow on the sidewalk. your flats made imprints as you walked.
you followed him up the brick stoop to the front door. it was large and ornate, a deep red color adorned with a beautiful evergreen wreath. cameron looked back at you for reassurance, before raising his hand up to the door.
knock. knock. knock.
creaaak. a blonde, pretty young woman opened the door. her name was clara, and she was your roomate sophomore year at nyu. she could be loud, arrogant, but she had a heart of gold, (and also a villa in trieste for the summers), so you kept her around.
“hi, oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, nearly knocking both you and cameron off your feet when she hugged you. “so glad you could make it, guys!”
“haha, thanks for having us,” you replied, voice a little strained from how tight she was squeezing you.
“come in, come in!” she said, and stepped back inside. you and cameron followed, admiring her opulent foyer; the floors marble and rounded staircase a dark wood, a beautiful christmas tree in the center. cameron’s hand brushed the small of your back as you got situated, putting your jackets in the closet and heading into the kitchen.
all your friends were scattered throughout. cameron gave you another, almost pitying, look of reassurance before going straight to max and dominic. you meandered around for a bit, looking for something to eat or drink.
you poured yourself a glass of wine, exchanging simple greetings with people as you did so. then, you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. you looked back to see your ex-boyfriend, jesse.
“you need help?” he asked lightheartedly, seeing you struggle with the cork.
“oh, uh, yeah. thanks. please.” you nodded and wiped your sweaty hands on the front of your jeans.
you had dated jesse from the spring of freshman year all the way to the end of junior year. the relationship had ended on a positive note, and you stayed friends. he was a year older, came from money, and was so perfect you almost hated him. he burned through books like it was nothing, told all the right jokes at the right times, was in med school now—and by the looks of the gold band on his ring finger, was probably married already.
“‘s good to see you,” you said shyly. “when was the last time? forth of july?”
“forth of july, yeah,” he chuckled, searching through the drawers for a wine opener. “you guys are cute together, you know.”
“who? what?” you asked, genuinely confused, looking around.
“you and that tall guy. cameron’s his name?”
“oh! cameron! no, no- we’re just friends! we grew up together, and went to high school together’n stuff.”
“his hand was on your ass, babe,” jesse said, finally opening the bottle with a little grunt.
“it’s not like that, really,” you doubled down, taking it from him and pouring a glass. and then someone called his name, asking to get more ice or something.
“gotcha, well, see ya.” he rubbed your shoulder blade before walking off, and you felt the cold metal of his wedding ring against your skin.
“…see ya.”
the party went on. drinks, hors d’oeuvres, card games and catching up with old friends you wouldn’t regularly get to see. you felt warm and tired and happy, for the first time in a long time. you caught cameron’s eye from across the room several times throughout the night, the type of look that meant more that words could ever say.
it was around ten in the evening when you finally got him to yourself. cameron was sitting on the burgundy love seat in the living room, admiring clara’s extensive record and cd collection.
“find anything good?” you asked, walking over to cam and sitting down, your thigh pressed to his. he looked over to you and smiled warmly.
“an original pressing of zeppelin II. pretty rare, i’d say.” cameron remarked, showing you before sliding it back into the box.
“wow. you’re right,” you said, slouching back a bit. “think clara’d notice if we took it home?”
he scoffed with a smile and hit your arm lightly. “pfft, don’t say that. …but probably not.”
you giggled. cameron was close and warm, having been sat in front of the fireplace for a good while. his breath smelled like beer and the cologne he was wearing rubbed off on you. you glanced down at his watch, which must’ve been his fathers too at some point, seeing it read 10:30.
cam noticed, and his brown eyes met yours. “you wanna head out soon?”
“hmm. yeah. sounds good,” you nodded and then paused for a moment. “can we get food on the way home?”
he laughed softly, but nodded immediately. “silly goose, did you not get enough to eat?”
your mouth opened incredulously. “i did! ‘m just hungry again!” you protested in a higher pitched voice.
cameron brushed your bangs back affectionately. “i’m just messin’. we can do whatever you want.”
you shared a moment of comfortable silence. the little heels of your mary janes clicked against the dark hardwood floor as you fidgeted. he hummed a tune you couldn’t quite decipher, and you enjoyed the feeling of closeness.
you eventually got the courage to speak up, feeling emboldened by the alcohol in your system and your conversation with jesse earlier. “i dunno if this is a weird.. or bad time to say this, but i really like you, cameron,” you said, voice small but still somewhat confident.
it was definitely out of the blue, but not unexpected. your feelings for each other were destined to bubble up sooner or later. in this case, sooner than you thought.
his eyebrows raised and he looked over at you. he took in your pretty hair that was done up, your dress that must’ve been new, your shy smile that has been the exact same since grade school.
“i like you too.” cameron said softly. you let out a sigh of relief, and it felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. “what? did you think i didn’t?”
“no! i was just nervous. i guess. and it feels like i’ve liked you for a while, that’s all.” you confessed as he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. your cheeks were definitely pink now.
he continued to grin, and then hesitantly leaned into press his lips against yours. he tasted like peppermint and chocolate,
when cameron pulled away, he asked, “do you wanna actually get out of here now?”
you nodded enthusiastically and got up off the couch, grabbing his hand. “let’s go, cowboy.”
it was a beautiful saturday in early may. pittsburgh had finally defrosted after a particularly snowy winter, and you felt hopeful for the first time in a while.
it had been a particularly difficult last 10 months. rehab, the divorce, getting back on his feet and trying to gain back everyone’s trust.
but then langdon met you. you were his little bubble of solace in the midst of the storm. someone he could depend on, someone he could trust and someone who trusted him.
with you, there was always art on the walls, an unfinished painting somewhere. weekend adventures, cute notes in his lunches, texts during the day that always went along the lines of you’re the bravest guy i know, i love you.
langdon had worked a double at the pitt last night, not getting home until close to 11:00. he came through the door, kissed your face, ate the dinner you made, showered, and then watched approximately thirty minutes of abbott elementary with you before passing out.
so this morning, you let him sleep in.
you got out of bed a little later than usual, went for a walk to the farmers market and picked out new flowers and some ingredients for dinner tonight.
you walked through the front door, kicked your shoes off in the foyer and then headed into the kitchen. you were carrying a reusable grocery bag full of stuff and a bouquet of flowers, cheeks pink from the sun and feeling better after getting some fresh air.
you found frank sitting at the kitchen island, drinking lukewarm coffee out of his world’s 2nd best dad mug.
“hi.” you greeted sweetly with a small smile. you set your stuff down and kissed his cheek. “how you feelin’?”
“good. fine.” he smiled tightly.
“sleep well?”
“mhm.” he nodded, leaning into your touch. you brushed a piece of hair off his forehead. his blue eyes were still sleepy and his voice was groggy.
“good. glad you’re feeling good.” you pressed another kiss to his cheek, then his lips. you wrapped your arms around his neck, moving to stand between his legs as you continued to kiss him lazily. you felt him smile and his teeth clashed with yours.
you eventually pulled away to catch your breath, eyes full of love as you looked into frank’s tired ones. his calloused hands were gentle as they held your hips. “lemme put these flowers in a vase and then do you wanna go back to bed?”
he raised his eyebrows and tilted his head like a puppy. you shut him down immediately, “no, not like that! you’re still sleepy, and i wanna start my new book.”
he laughed, and then kissed you again. “i know, i’m just kidding, sweetheart.”
you pulled away to stand at the kitchen counter. he checked emails on his laptop while you put away groceries and arranged the flowers the way you wanted them.
then you headed back up to bed, frank practically tackling you to the mat so he could lay on you for a moment.
you both laughed. he shifted to lay down while you sat up against the pillows, your new book from the library in hand. “you gonna nap?” you asked, leaning over him a bit.
“mhm.”
“okie.” you settled back in. “i’ll be here when you wake up. i might take one too in a bit.”
“can we go on a hike tomorrow?” frank asked, his face smushed against the pillow.
hiiiii i love ur writing sm!!! i was wondering if u would ever write smut for cameron winter… i didn’t see any dni requests in ur master list but if ur not comfortable with it dont feel pressure to reply to this lol. hope ur well!
i’ve never written smut before, but am totally open to it!! i’m finishing a little something for him that will be out this weekend… so feel free to send a request if u want!
im absolutely obsessed w ur writing!!! i wanted to ask if maybe you could write a story with cameron winter that’s super fluffy/comfort where the reader or oc is sick (minor cold, like nothing crazy) but cameron is actually really good at taking care of them :) tysm!!!!
thank you! this means so much 🥹
thunder
cameron winter x reader
wc: 1k
it was late august in brooklyn, and you were feeling absolutely miserable. aches and fatigue earlier that week turned into a sore throat, which turned into a fever and stuffy nose. it was a friday, and you decided it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to call in sick at work.
cameron stopped by your place earlier in the day to eat lunch with you, but geese had a show that night, so he had to get going pretty soon after.
you kept yourself busy with a new book from the library, the whole first season of the pitt and then a nap until late evening.
it was raining now, probably 11 or 12 at night. you got up from your place on the couch, grabbed a glass of water and then fed your cat, pudding, who’d been snuggling with you all day.
you padded back to the couch, the old wooden floors of your flat creaking under your fuzzy sock clad feet.
with a small sigh, you plopped back down on your couch, and pulled your favorite throw blanket up to your chin. you grabbed the remote and turned the tv back on to whatever food network show happened to be on this late.
a few moments of quiet passed, the only sound being pudding’s paws clacking against the floor. then, you heard keys rattle in the front door and it open with a small creak.
“sweetness?” cameron called out quietly. you could hear him take off his shoes in the foyer, and set down something near your bedroom. probably his guitar case.
“hi, boyfriend.” you smiled gently, sitting up a bit to look at him. he was just in a hoodie and jeans, holding a box of pizza.
“hi girlfriend.” cam responded easily. he set the box down on the coffee table, and kneeled next to you in front of the couch. he gently brushed your hair back, feeling your clammy forehead in the process. “how you feelin’?”
“worse than this morning, but better than yesterday.” you sniffed.
“i suppose that’s good.” he chuckled, continuing to stroke your hair.
“how was the show?” you asked, looking up at him.
“good. was really good. crowd was good.” he nodded, shifting to sit down. “i brought pizza if you want it, but that’s okay if not.”
“i had a grilled cheese a bit ago, so we can save it for tomorrow. but thank you. and thank you for coming over.” you said.
“of course. anything for my sick girl.” cameron replied sympathetically. pudding came over and began rubbing against his thigh, so he leaned down to pet her.
you watched him for a moment, before speaking up. “i missed you.” you frowned almost pathetically, but the blanket was basically up to your nose. he could see it in your eyes, anyway.
cameron looked up and his brows furrowed. “i missed you too.” he smooched your cheek, then your forehead, then your nose. “tomorrow i don’t have anything, so we can do whatever you want.”
“okay. yay.” you said weakly, but still excited. a lazy day with cameron sounded absolutely perfect. pudding meowed and quickly got bored with your boyfriend, walking away to her toys instead.
cameron kissed you properly, not caring if you were snotty and gross, or if he got sick too.
he pulled away after a bit and thought for a moment. you looked up at him, his pretty brown eyes and face and hair that was getting a little longer. “do you want to… watch a movie? take a bath? read a book?” he listed.
you considered your options. “do you mind running me a bath?” you asked.
“not at all. then movie?”
“then movie.”
cameron got to work. he put the pizza in the fridge for tomorrow as leftovers, put your clean dishes away and your dirty laundry in the washer. then, he ran a bath, using your favorite bubbles.
he helped you undress, pulling your (his) shirt over your head and throwing it with the rest of your clothes in a pile in the corner of the bathroom.
“can you stay?” you asked, sitting down in the bath, your knees to your chest.
“yeah. sure. lemme grab something first.” cameron left the bathroom and headed to your bedroom, grabbing james joyce’s dubliners from your bedside table. he came back, left the door cracked open, and sat on the toilet lid next to your in the bath.
he read to you while you washed your hair and body, enjoying the warm water, which also cleared your stuffy nose a bit.
you felt a hundred times better getting out, cam drying you off and helping you get into pajamas. he sat behind you on the couch and brushed your wet hair while you picked a movie on tv.
“love, actually?”
“it’s not christmas!”
“ferris bueller?”
“hmm… not feeling it.”
“rushmore?”
“sure, baby. i’m just messing with you.” cameron kissed your shoulder.
you got comfy on the couch, sharing a blanket and a sleepy pudding cuddled between you. his arm was over your shoulder and your head was rested on his chest. he’d made a microwave bowl of popcorn which you took a small handful of every few minutes.
cam pressed his nose to the top of your head, and kissed your hairline gently. he smelled like laundry detergent and a little bit like sweat. his worn, faded cotton t-shirt was soft under your bare arm, and his chest was solid in the best way. it felt like home to be in his embrace.
the rain outside still pelted against your windows, thunder rumbling every so often. a dose of nyquil and being overall fatigued made you sleepy, and you tried to fight your eyes from closing.
cam grabbed the remote to turn the tv volume down just a bit. “sleep, lovie. you need it.”
“mm.. wanna know what happens next.” you protested, saying anything just to keep him talking to you.
“you’ve seen this probably 20 times, baby.”
“well, i forgot what happens next.”
“i’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.” cameron reassured, knowing you were being silly anyway. he kissed your forehead and with that, you were asleep.
you stood in the sun, hair pushed back by your sunglasses and eyes squinty. your cheeks and shoulders were sunburnt. there was a lanyard around your neck and your camera in it’s case tucked safely away in your bag.
the last few weeks had been rough, both relationship and travel-wise.
the kiss with cameron outside the pub that night in london led to drunken sex in his hotel room, and leaving before the sun rose.
after that, you were off to another city, then another, and not much else could be said. not until you got home to new york, at least.
now it’s late summer and you were at outside lands festival, trying to catch sierra ferrell’s set before geese went on later in the evening.
you jumped a little at the feeling of a hand gently rest on your shoulder.
“jeez!”
“sorry. hi. here.” cameron replied, handing you a plastic cup of beer.
“oh. hi. sorry. that’s okay.” you blushed and took the drink from him. “thank you.”
“yeah.” he laughed softly, and you smiled, taking a sip. his hand slowly drifted from your arm to your hip bone, resting there as he stood next to you. over the past few weeks, you’d become more comfortable being intimate around each other. feet next to each other under the table, fingertips brushing, waking up early to spend mindless time together before the chaos began.
“where’s everybody else?” you asked, talking about the band. all of you had stayed up late last night talking and playing video games, so you had a pretty late start this morning. when you looked up at cameron, your cheek pressed against his shoulder.
“not sure. probably getting food or something.” he replied shortly with a shrug, and squeezed your hip lightly. sierra was just getting on now and the crowd cheered. “i told max to meet us here when they were ready.”
you nodded, closing your eyes for a moment. “are you nervous for tonight?” you asked cam. there was a nice breeze that blew your hair in your face.
“not really. not yet, at least, i don’t think. i think i’m so tired that my body isn’t processing it.” he said, making you laugh softly.
“me too, i think. are you excited, at least?”
“yeah, for sure.” cameron pressed his lips against the crown of your head.
you stood together on the outskirts of the crowd for a while, enjoying the music and people watching and the sun on your face.
i ain’t never been a holy roller,
but i found god in your eyes
you’d go home to new york after this festival, spend the fall there taking time off, visit family for the holidays. you and your girl friends were already planning a trip for late november, which would be tons of fun.
but, would everything go back to normal after the tour ended? the dynamic between you and cameron and the band hadn’t really changed, but you were afraid it would. what if it was too much? what if you were too much? you cringed at the thought and told cameron you were going to get another drink.
* * *
geese’s set that evening was fantastic. they played great, sounded great, had lots of fun, and you were pretty sure that was their biggest audience yet. afterwards, you all met up with some artists friends, got to see charli xcx from the vip section and then went out for dinner and drinks in the city.
you were drunk enough to be comfortable. cameron’s hand rested on your ankle under the table. conversation came easy. dominic talked about a funny sign he saw in the crowd, and emily shared a story of when she was in prague last summer. your cheeks were sunburnt and you smelled like floral perfume, beer and suncream.
summer hadn’t felt this good in a while.
the check was paid, and it was midnight by the time you were walking back to your hotel. you and cameron walked a bit behind the rest of the group,
you said your goodnights in the lobby, but it wasn’t long before you sent a text to cameron.
can i come to your room? i can’t sleep. you sent.
of course. 134. he replied within minutes.
you made your way up to his room and knocked on the door twice before it opened and he let you in. practically pulled you, actually. his lips were on yours in an instant, kissing you like you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. his hair was damp but you ran your hands through it anyway, and his stubble scratched against your chin and cheeks in the most delicious way.
his hands reached for the hem of your shirt, but you stopped him. “what the fuck are we doing?”
“what?” he stopped and pulled away, worried he did something wrong.
you shook your head quickly. “sorry. i didn’t mean it like that. i just- i came here to talk.”
he processed your words for a moment and then nodded. “okay. let’s talk.”
you both moved to sit on his bed, lamps dim and covers still tucked into the bed frame. “i dunno what i wanna say, really.” you eventually said. “i like you, and that’s all. i want it to stay like that.”
“what makes you think it won’t stay like that?” cameron asked.
“thats what i don’t know. i feel this way about you, and i’m pretty sure you feel the same, but i know we’re busy people and neither of us really like labels…” you went on. “i just don’t want you to not like me any more when we go home. and it’s less exciting.” you looked down shyly and picked at a loose string on the bed spread.
“darling, baby, angel cupcake sprinkles.” cameron started and you giggled with a sniffle. “i know things are weird and new and we’ve been friends for a long time, but i really want this. i really want you.” he reassured. “and if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. but i doubt it won’t. we can break up the band and resent each other for the rest of our lives and if it doesn’t.”
“hey, that doesn’t make me feel better!” you exclaimed jokingly.
“sorry! sorry. i’m just kidding.” cameron laughed and held your face in his hands. “i wanna love you like you deserve.”
“okay.” you looked up at him. his eyes were tired like they always were, but there was something more, too. “shake on it?”
“shake on it.” he held your hand, smooched your cheek really hard and did a pinky promise just in case.
content: backstory to taste back, descriptions of poor mental health, body image and substance abuse
wc: 653
♪ noah’s highlight reel - dijon
you’d been writing songs since you knew how to hold a pencil and a guitar. your fingers stretching across the frets to form chords, scribbling down silly lyrics and filling notebook after notebook.
it was all you could think about. voice lessons, piano recitals, playing in garage bands and producing simple covers on your laptop with a midi keyboard and a free, basic DAW. posting them to youtube and soundcloud, tumblr and instagram.
the summer after you graduated college you took the big step and moved to L.A. you were familiar with more indie/alternative music scenes in smaller cities on the east coast, but certainly not hollywood.
you’d met roman through instagram. he’d liked your cover of california by joni mitchell, and when you posted about needing a place to stay, he was the first to reach out—and an absolute sweetheart about everything.
that summer, you signed to interscope records, moved in with roman until you could afford your own place, met all his friends who absolutely adored you, began recording your debut album. you’d never been happier, and everything was going great.
until it wasn’t.
drugs, sex, etc. unresolved mental health and body image issues from your teenage years began to resurface in unhealthy ways. doing whatever you possibly could to suppress the pain and insecurity you felt.
plus, almost everyone around you in the industry being in the exact same boat wasn’t very helpful. girls, scarily thin, offering you whatever and unconsciously encouraging terrible habits.
roman knew, and then the sneaking around began. you did absolutely ridiculous things to get your hands on coke, feeling like john mulaney in a terrible, cartoonish way.
you tried to retell these stories with humor, but it still sometimes hurt thinking about the time you pawned off and then bought back your own earrings, or tried to become an uber driver without a license.
so they staged an intervention. dinner at nobu turned into hollis practically tackling you, and checking you into a rehab facility in west hollywood within the evening.
what followed was three long months of rehab and therapy and trying to work on yourself. roman and hollis and nate visited whenever they could, and your parents flew out every three weeks.
with the support of the people you loved, you began to feel okay. good, even.
* * *
it was your first night home. you nearly cried at the sight of your chubby grey tabby cat, eyes misty as you held her and repeatedly kissed the top of her head. she meowed in protest, but would’ve moved if she actually didn’t like the love.
“you want something to drink? or eat?” roman asked, opening the fridge. “i can make you mac n cheese, or cut up an apple.”
“no, that’s okay. i’m okay. ‘m not really hungry right now.” you were sat on the floor, still holding your kitty.
“you sure? you needa eat, sweetness.”
“i’m sure.” you sniffled, trying to hide your hot face and watery eyes.
“how about a grilled cheese? tomato soup?” roman tried again.
there was a pause.
your eyebrows furrowed, knowing he wasn’t going to give up. “okay. yes please.” you agreed, voice soft.
you ate at the kitchen island in relative silence, an old episode of parks and rec quietly playing on tv.
you finished and took a shower while roman did the dishes. he made your bed extra nice and took your pajamas and towel out of the warm dryer, ready for when you came out and wanted to be cozy.
roman helped you get dressed and tucked into bed. he climbed in next to you, your cat snuggled in between you two.
“thank you for taking care of me.” you whispered when he turned the lights off.
“of course, sweetheart. i love you.” he kissed you forehead and cheek and then your lips.
“i love you too.” you mumbled, and sleep came easy.
you were two months out of a breakup with your college boyfriend, 24 years old in a new city, and on tour with geese; your childhood best friend’s band.
cameron was… cameron. it was hard to see him as anyone other than the scraggly boy from grade school, who rang on your doorbell to kick around a soccer ball on summer afternoons, who’s hands were sticky and sneakers were muddy.
but it was also hard to admit that you were very steadily catching feelings.
the hands, the voice, his smile. sharing hotel rooms and playing card games and his hand on the small of your back. all in the name of being a good friend.
it realistically would never work. he went from girl to girl, city to city, never had had enough time for “anyone or anything anymore,” he had said.
he was difficult. you were difficult. but after all these years, you were each other’s best friend and maybe, just maybe a little more than that.
* * *
it was a friday afternoon. tonight, geese was playing at a small, historic venue in brixton, and everyone was buzzing.
lunch came first, though.
you were two cokes with lemon in, feeling inspired by the caffeine and your afternoon nap. the café doors were open to let in a slight breeze, but it didn’t do much. you fanned yourself with the laminated menu, and your thighs stuck to each other the pleather booth seat. gross.
you sat with cam, emily, max, dominic and sam at a round table near the back of the café. a wimbledon match was playing quietly on a couple tvs, and everyone was chatting softly.
you were spaced out. thinking about the past couple months and your week or so in london, your relationship with cameron. there was a street performer standing in the plaza singing joan baez’s it ain’t me babe, and you hated to think that might be the truth.
i’m not the one you want babe,
i will only let you down
did he need you? did he want you? was he existentially pondering on your relationship like you were? you were pretty sure he was hungover, so probably not.
your cheap, plastic sunglasses were perched on your head as you clicked through the photos on your film camera. you found a good one and turned it around to the group for them to see.
“cute, right? i think i’ll post this one with all the new dates.” you said.
“my eyes are closed!” dominic exclaimed.
“‘s still cute. post it.” emily responded, elbowing dom in the ribs.
you then took your phone out the back pocket of your jean shorts, opening the tour dates that had been emailed to you. madrid, paris, then munich, followed by a couple festivals in july and august.
“hey, what’s up?” cameron asked softly, leaning in closer to you. his hand was next to yours on the sticky seat.
“what do you mean?” you replied with furrowed brows, and refused to look up at him.
“you’re quiet.”
“am i not always quiet?”
“not this quiet.”
“who’s to say i’m not always this quiet?” you tried. “can you shh for just a second? i’m trying to be your social media manager.” you kept your eyes on your phone, feeling flushed and a little nervous.
you were never like this, to be anxious and dismissive around someone so close to you, especially cameron of all people.
it was to avoid confrontation, but you evidently were not ready to admit that.
then food came, and he shut up.
no, no, no, it ain’t me, babe
it ain’t me you’re looking for, babe
* * *
the house lights were on as you set up equipment in the venue, moving things, asking crew if the thing you just plugged in would set the whole place on fire.
“uhh… no, probably not. but to be safe, maybe put it in a separate outlet.”
by 7pm, doors had opened. you took your place between the barricade and the stage, adjusting your lens and making sure the memory card wasn’t fucked.
the opener ended around 8. geese came on at 8:30, and ended around 10:30 with an encore.
it was a great show, really, and everyone felt it.
they stuck around for a bit to chat with fans some and sign things, and then headed to get a drink or two with some friends in the city.
as the night progressed, you got drunker and drunker. it wasn’t like you to go past what you knew was your limit, or make obnoxious jokes, or make a fool of yourself like you were doing now.
“c’mon, babe. let’s get some fresh air, huh?” cameron urged quickly, his hands on your shoulders. emily gave you an empathetic look that you flat-on ignored.
“don’t call me babe, i’m not your babe.” you protested, but were too clumsy to actually fight back.
“i know babe, i got you.” he gently guided you outside into the cool night air. the bell above the door jingled as it opened and closed.
you breathed in the air, watching people pass on the sidewalk. your heels clicked against the pavement as you stepped enough away to properly look at him.
“what the hell is going on with you?” cameron asked, his voice a little more stern now that you were outside, standing under the warm streetlight.
neither of you noticed that all of your friends were eagerly watching you through the big window, having been expecting this moment since the eighth grade.
“i dunno, i just-“
“are you homesick? is that what this is? or jealous, somehow? why are you causing a scene?”
“no- i- cameron.”
“i can get you a flight home, if thats what it is. or a hotel, even—because you being mean and literally avoiding me this entire trip-“
“cameron, please.”
“please what, y/n? i don’t know if you’re going through a rough patch, or something-“ he continued his drunken rant.
“cameron!” you cut him off. “i like you!” you exclaimed. there was a long pause. “i know it’s not an excuse to treat you like shit, but i-“
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