#daybreak reader insert

Turbo had known you before the world ended, or at least, he’d known of you. He’d heard the gossip regarding the quiet guy in the theater department that completely transformed when he stepped on stage. Hell, he’d even snuck into the theater to watch one of your performances once and he’d been hooked on you ever since. He had even been planning on figuring out a way to ask you out once the football team won the homecoming game.

Then the bombs hit, and, in the aftermath, Turbo brough all the different breeds of jocks together. He knew of the small factions outside of his control, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about them. No, all Turbo really cared about was finding you again.

Turbo hadn’t always had a grudge against Josh Wheeler. In fact, he’d hardly even known who the kid was before the apocalypse (He was always getting him confused with gay-Josh and other-gay-Josh) except that Wesley and Hoyles loved to torment him.

But then Wesley left and when Turbo went looking for him, he found the both of you holed up with the little nobody and his pet genius and suddenly he understood the phrase ‘blinded by rage.’

He’d seen the startled, deer-in-headlights look in your eyes when you saw him approaching and the quick way you’d scrambled back into the abandoned mall that your would-be tribe had barricaded yourselves into and he’d known exactly what Wesley and Josh had been telling you about him.

Suddenly, all he could think of was showing you that that wimpy skater-boy couldn’t protect you and that he wasn’t good enough to be around you.

A/N: I combined these requests since they were so similar, hope that’s okay!

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Ever since Josh, Wesley, and Angelica took up refuge in Eli’s mall, Josh had found himself constantly getting distracted by the make-shift doctor that had taken up shop in the old Starbucks claiming that “Caffeine is a natural painkiller.”

Granted, the (h/c) wasn’t an actual doctor by any means, but as someone who’d been taking some of the Pre-Med courses their high school offered, Eli had judged him close enough and allowed him to stay.

He’d helped Josh patch up his hand when he’d tried to cut it off after a Ghoulie bite and even showed him how to keep his finger clean after it was cut off in his botched attempt. He helped Angelica when she fell and skinned her knees so badly the blood nearly set off Ms. Crumble (He just gave her a grande Frappuccino with two shots of espresso, but she was back to building bombs in record time), and he even took appointments with the other tribes sometimes.

The thing was, though, with (M/N) taking all the additional appointments, Josh was finding it increasingly more and more difficult to catch his attention. He guessed that was probably what got him into this situation in the first place.

He was propped up at one of the tables lining the edge of the old coffee shop, sitting with his injured leg propped up on the seat in front of him as (M/N) knelt to check out his battered knee.

“How’d you say you hurt it again?” The (h/c) asked, looking up at Josh from where he’d been prodding at the torn skin.

Josh shrugged sheepishly, thinking back to the way he’d been practicing tricks he’d known he couldn’t do just because the asphalt in the parking garage under the mall was particularly rough and he knew he’d be able to scuff himself up enough to have an excuse to come see the group’s resident doctor. “Fell off my longboard earlier.”

“Again?” The doctor raised an eyebrow, watching him contemplatively for a moment before letting his gaze drop back to the cotton pad and bottle of rubbing alcohol in his hands, swiftly dabbing some over Josh’s wound and fixing a bandage over it. “You were in here with torn up palms last week from another nasty fall.” He paused as a thought struck him, “And the week before that with a twisted ankle and before that it was because you thought you had a concussion…” The (h/c) sighed, shaking his head and resting a hand gently on Josh’s knee, “I don’t know how to tell you this, Josh, but I think you should probably look into finding a new hobby.”

The brunet sighed, glancing away sheepishly. He needed to tell you the truth; this farce had gone on long enough. If he was being honest with himself, it was starting to get pathetic. “I’m not actually this clumsy,” he murmured, suddenly finding a crack in the old Starbucks sign fascinating. 

(M/N) hesitated, fingers lingering over the worn cotton of the gauze as he paused to look up at the other male. "Wha-" The (h/c) stared up at him silently for a moment. "Josh, have you been hurting yourself just so you hang out with me?"

"That's not- well, I-" He swallowed hard, one hand clenching into a fist as he forced himself to keep talking, "You're always so busy patching everyone up, and sometimes I just wanted some time with you to myself. If I'm injured, I have an excuse to come talk to you.”

"You don't need an excuse to come talk to me. We're friends, aren't we?" (M/N) asked, brows furrowed over confused (e/c) eyes.

Josh shrugged, biting his lip and turning away so he didn't have to meet his eyes. "But what if I don't wanna be just friends anymore?" 

The (h/c) blinked up at him, sitting back on his heels so he could look up at the brunet better. "Are you asking me out?"

Josh shrugged halfheartedly, "I was trying to, yeah."

"Then sure," (M/N) grinned up at him, pushing to his feet. "But no more getting hurt just because you want a date."

Josh smiled up at him, gingerly standing as well, mindful not to put too much strain on the bandages, "Deal."