#this scene had me cryin

[kwonzoshi]

Vegas in a nutshell 😂🤣

[greenvillainredemption]

One thing I love about mutant mayhem is that Leo has a crush on an April who’s not conventionally attractive. It almost feels like, because of the turtles’ isolated upbringing* he hasn’t been influenced by the popular western beauty ideals and just thinks this ordinary human is beautiful! And I think that’s really cool! Because she is!

*though they’ve clearly been exposed to celebrities and other pop culture so ?? idk lol

[honeybleed]

if u see me lusting for erwin keep in mind its fan art and wit studio. idk what mappa was doing

[todayisafridaynight]

No because Zhao speculating felt like such a

Looks into the camera

"I bet you're wondering why that happened. ;) heres maybe a reason ebina was deep..."

moment

no literally- like other antags' endgame Deep Moment scenes worked because there was SOME build up throughout the game to key us in on them from a deeper level but it just doesnt work with ebina

[casreturns]

this shit fire asf!

i love that the reality of mental illness is represented so well and how long it’s taken them to open up to each other and develop their feelings. it’s really refreshing and the storyline is mad interesting + everyone is so pretty 🤭

[dumbandfunn]

how cowboy!rafe and spoiled!reader met

it was a usual friday night in the local bar, the few regular rowdy ranchers and the occasional couple passing through just to grab a drink for their journey. it was nothing new. not until the door swung open more aggressively than usual and low and behold you stood in your pretty white sundress, mascara stained under eyes and demanding somebody to tell you “where the hell you were.” rafe had been on high alert the minute he lay his eyes on you, telling his usual drinking crowd to shut up while he took a sip of the whiskey he had been clinging to the entire night. you looked so helpless, fragile, rambling to the bar tender who seemed to not care about anything but how low the cut on your dress was. his eyes were trailing from where you had perched yourself back to the pervy wandering heads from the countless men who had all fallen silent at the chaos you had created from nothing. “are you even listening to me,” you pout, lip still wobbling whilst you slammed a hand down against the wooden counter. “i need somebody to help me, im lost and—” you sniffle.

an older man sitting across from you had piped up with an “ain’t nobody gon’ help you in these parts little lady, not with that attitude,” and that only made you cry harder. “but i’m lost,” you huff out, your tears quick to turn to the sweetest angry pout rafe had probably ever seen as you turn to the few people who were only watching in amusement, oh how they hated pretentious city girls. rafe’s eyebrows were raised, maybe it was then, as you started to bicker with a rancher twice your size that he needed to know more about you. and why the hell a girl like you was in a place like this in the first place. you left with a pretty loud bratty scream after nobody showed any interest in helping you, the distant laughs of the scene you’d caused echoing behind you as you sniffled back your tears and kicked at the car that had put you in the unfortunate situation in the first place. it wasn’t like rafe to follow, especially after someone like you, not that he came across anyone like that much in the first place. a clearly spoiled, city princess. maybe it was just the little white dress you were wearing, maybe he was just as pervy as the rest. he just couldn’t leave a little helpless thing like you to your own devices in a place he knew too well. or maybe he just needed you the second his pants got a little tighter when you were leaning across the bar a few minutes prior.

but less than two seconds after your tantrum he was hot on your heels, waving off the whistles that followed when the doors swung behind him. “so y’need help?”

a knight in shining armour, just a minute too late, it was tantrum city now after not getting your way.

“not from any of you anymore,” you spat out, folding your arms over your chest, narrowing your eyes at the young man who took a small step closer, taking his hat off and raising both hands up in defense, “well, you didn’t choose the best place to come cryin’ for help, alright, s’all i’ll say doll.” “—so y’gonna tell me what happened or you just gon’ sit here cryin’ all night,” he mutters out. you frown up at him, clearly in a conflict about standing your ground or getting out of the hell your car had broken down in. maybe your stubbornness had gotten the better of you, how you turned your nose up at him and quickly looked away, only for a hand to land firmly on your jaw a minute later, squishing your cheeks and staring you down with those stern blue eyes. “i told you this not the place to come cryin’ for help, s’tell me whats wrong before i go back inside and leave you here all on your own, hm? you want that?”

you shook your head almost immediately, eyes widened and lips parted. nobody had spoken to you like that in your entire life. and the way your eyebrows creased and your lip started to vibrate again, rafe knew he had you right where he wanted you. “my car broke down, can you fix it” you whisper.

“they don’t teach you manners in the city?”

you managed to squeak out a please, just as his free hand reached to brush a few stray hairs out of your face, licking his thumb and swiping the clumps of mascara from under your eyes. “now that wasn’t so hard was it doll?” and you shook your head again, nervous and chewing down on your bottom lip. he really did have you right then and there, someone who could handle your tantrums and someone who could knock the attitude from your lungs with something as simple as an eyebrow raise.

everyone was shocked to see you curled under rafe’s arm the following friday in his usual corner of the same bar, feet swinging and dazed. nobody would dare say a bad word about you again.

[majimassqueaktoy]

Having the restraint to scroll past all the blocked tag posts that say "Yakuza", vein popping in my forehead.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Daisy chains

Gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Daryl gets separated after the prison attack. He comes across a home for him and his kid to hole up in. Your home.

Daryl was running.

Running from walkers, from anything or anyone that could hear them.

Him and his daughter.

His selfish act of hiding a personal stash of formula and other necessary items to care for his toddler who fussed against his chest as he made his way through the area. She slowly starting to pick up volume as the fussing became full on crying and he had to start running to keep away from the dead she unknowingly lured.

"Shh, please. Yer wakin' the dead with yer cryin'." His hand held the back of her head and rubbed soothing circles on her skin, jogging to keep a rocking motion going as he moved on.

In his frantic search he spotted a house at the edge of the forest and decided it was the best option they had.

Circling the home he found the back door unlocked and locked it behind him, barricading it to the best of his ability.

Click.

The unmistakable sound of a gun right behind his head made him stop dead in his tracks, carefully raising his hands and thus letting go of his daughter's head.

Fhe loss of contact had her starting to sniffle and cry again and all Daryl could do was slowly turn around to reveal the two of them.

"Was runnin' from walkers." One of Daryl's hands lowered back to stroke his child's head while keeping the other one up. "She'd been cryin', drew 'em in."

You lowered your gun and clicked the safety back on. "You can feed her here." You weren't happy with other people being in your home, but sending away someone with such a young child wasn't okay in your books. "What can you provide in return?" You walked back into the hall and waved for him to follow. In the kitchen you showed him your stash and handed him a jar for his kid. "You can have this if you can promise me to provide."

Daryl agreed immediately. He knew he could hunt as soon as he figured out if he could trust you with his kid. Most people would kill him and her for being a liability. A redneck and a toddler weren't high on the list of saught after party members.

"After she eats, lay down with her. You two clearly went through hell." You kept a close eye on them for the remainder of the day, needing to know if the man was planning anything besides hiding but up til sundown he still hadn't shown any signs of hostility.

You watched as he put her to sleep and sat back down to rest. "You never introduced yourselves. What do I call you?" You leaned forward so you could speak quietly as to not wake the sleeping toddler.

"M'Daryl. Lil' one's Daisy." You exchanged introductions and both felt okay enough around each other to sleep.

Daryl stuck around inside the house for two days, watching you like a hawk whenever you interacted with Daisy.

"Hey." He found you on the couch with Daisy asleep next to you after having eaten. "Ya good to watch 'er while I hunt? Try'na be back before dark."

If anyone watched the scene from afar they'd assume the two were a couple.

You were surprisingly comfortable with having others around these days, and Daryl was beyond happy he found someone to help with Daisy. He was happy to hunt for you, he was good at it and he'd be proving his worth.

Daryl kept his word and came back before dark with a small deer and to say you were excited was an understatement. You were probably the world's worst hunter so seeing Daryl come back with a week's worth of meat was a huge turn on.

Or maybe you were just deprived. Daryl didn't seem like someone who'd let you jump his bones for any and all reason so you just had to ignore the feelings for as long as needed.

Ignoring lasted for two weeks.

The three of you were living together so comfortably. You brought back way more than needed on your runs and Daryl made sure the area was secure and you always had meat for somewhat balanced meals.

As time passed Daryl started to get the need to find his old group. See if there were survivors he could reunite with but he didn't know how to ask you for a portion of your supplies. You had already been so kind to let him stay and offer the two of them so much. He also felt weird about leaving you here. Separating Daisy from someone she clearly bonded with hurt him too.

Any idea of leaving just felt wrong, unless you'd all leave.

You started to notice him being distant, fidgety all the time so you sat down with him one evening.

"What's eating you, Daryl?"

He glanced up from cleaning his knives only to grumble at you, not answering at all.

"Come on. It's clear you've got something on your mind. Tell me, please?"

With a huff he put his items away and slumped back against the couch. "S'mah group. Gotta find 'em. Dun wanna leave ya alone."

"I'll come." It was an easy decision, really. You helped watching Daisy and he knew the woods well enough to travel through them. "I've got no one, you got them. It'd be good for us all if we found your friends."

Daryl nodded, happy you were on one line and offered to plan their leave, take a few days to prepare and rest up before starting their trek.

Daryl had lived in that house for three only weeks, but still it felt weird to leave it behind. He carried Daisy against his chest and his crossbow slung over his shoulder.

You had food, medication and sleeping supplies strapped to your bag, Daisy's items being in Daryl's luggage. You learned more about Daryl now and also learned from him.

He was an expert huntsman and tracker, leading you from your home to a torn down building that used to house people from the looks of it. You two cleared the needed amount of walkers before settling for the night.

"How do you always seem to know where to go?" You felt so lost out here, but Daryl marched on like he knew the area.

"Been trackin" my whole life. Know wha'm lookin' for."

The next day he quietly talked you through his vision, what he spotten and what it all meant as you moved on with your journey. You were learning and having fun doing so.

While he carried Daisy he let you try out his crossbow which resulted after a week of trying, in your first dinner kill.

That evening you sat close to him as he showed you how to skin small game and roast it over a fire.

You scavenged and hunted on your way, spending every moment together. You were enjoying it and so was he.

When a storm hit you managed to hole up in an old house just in time. It was fhe first night you kissed.

The storm caused the temperature tondrop, and the broken windows caused a lot of wind to gust through the house. You had wrapped Daisy in a bundle of blankets while Daryl worked to get a small fire started. You shared a large blanket, sitting shoulder to shoulder with your legs a tangled mess.

You could feel his gaze on you, quickly looking away each time you tried to catch him but eventually managing and softly laughing, pulljng even closer to him and resting your head on his shoulder. "You can stare, it's okay."

Your hand went to reach for his, making him look down into your eyes. He saw yours flick to his lips and back up and mimicked your gesture, watching you as you leaned closer to him.

"It's okay." Your voice was barely above a whisper, your fingers now intertwined and Daryl still felt comfortable.

With a steadying breath he leaned into you to close the gap, pressing his lips against you in a kiss that warmed you both more than the fire or blankets did.

From that night on you slept in each others' embrace whenever you could.

"Hey," you jogged to catch up with Daryl's strides. "Your group, is Daisy's mom a part of it?"

Daryl scoffed and replied with a stern "No."

"She ain't got no mom." It was clear from his tone he wasn't going to share anything else so you dropped it, falling in with him in silence.

You traveled like that for a while, not speaking unless it was needed until you came across a barn to rest in.

Daisy was tired and all the traveling had her fussing and crying and Daryl couldn't get her to quiet down in his tired, cranky state.

"Let me take her for a bit. You need to rest." Daryl tried to protest but he knew you'd win. He'd always let you win when you had disagreements and honestly he was too tired to even try at this point.

So now you cared for her, managing to make her crying stop and let Daryl sleep while you kept your ears open until you yourself dozed off too.

When you woke up the next morning Daryl was already up and about, keeping Daisy occupied and making sure she ate before you set out again.

Daryl fell into step beside you on a long stretch of road, glancing over at you with Daisy in your arms.

"Her mom.." he sighed deep. "She were a ..a girl, mah brother paid. Thought I needed ta get laid more often." The topic had him anxiously fiddling with the frays on his gloves. "She disappeared fer months. Dumped 'er on mah doorstep an' left."

Oh. You understood now why he never wanted to talk about it. But now you knew the basics you didn't ask further.

You also had to keep your mouth shut before your thoughts escaped.

'I can be her mom, if you let me.'

You weren't sure how he'd respond to those words spoken out loud, even with how close you had gotten over time.

So you kept the words inside, only showing your love for the two of them through actions.

"Ya listnin'?" Daryl stopped and turned to face you, almost having you run into him lost in thought.

Had he been talking to you for long?

You looked up from the road to look at him but all you clould focus on was the giant gate at the far end of the road.

Daryl took your hand in his and took you with him. Within minutes you were standing beside him in awe.

"We're 'ere."

ALEXANDRIA SAFE ZONE

~~☆☆☆~~

A/N: That single dad fic I promised! I hope it's what y'all hoped ♡

[simonrillleyyysss]

hiii :) idk if you got my request bc tumblr loves to eat requests :( but it was just briefly about philip graves with a gf who’s super sensitive, even when he’s sarcastic with her she will cry

if you got this and just don’t wanna write it pls ignore, love you have a good dayyy 🌷

this is so me!!

sorry it’s short!

we need more philip lovers instead of HATERS (cough cough bunnyreaper)

he loves having a sensitive s/o!! gives him a huge ego boost, loves constantly kissing your cheeks after he accidentally offends you with some silly joke he had made, wiping ur tears away with his thumb!! humming.

if you’re watching a movie and a scene about a dog comes on, you’re automatically bursting into fits of tears, crying into the blondes chest; his arm thrown around your shoulder as he chuckled lowly.

‘why’re you cryin’,baby?’

‘the dog!’

‘..it’s not dead yet, ‘darlin.’

‘..IT’S GONNA DIE?’

has to watch what he says constantly, will sometimes lose himself and make sarcastic comments or have an angry tone mockingly, and you will switch into panic mode and accidentally send yourself through a wall :((

‘there’s a cat out there!’

he knows that, because every single day you point out the small feline!!

‘wow, really? there’s a cat?’

you’re sobbing. tears rolling down your cheeks and lips quivering, heaving for breath as he quickly rests you on his lap to calm you down, patting your back and shushing you with soft coo’s.

‘m’ sorry, doll. forgot you don’t like me sayin’ stuff like that.’

‘are you mad?’

‘never!’

anyone looks at you the wrong way? he’s immediately scowling and wrapping his hand around your hip; his face smoothing into a content smirk with furrowed brows—smug smile on his face as he dragged you along; whom was currently sniffling.

loves it when ur having sex because you’re just so easy to toy with

[twola]

Two words: messy blowjob.

Teehee, let’s go. 

Also, s/o to @revolversandlace, who mentioned writing a possible 1k+ scene literally describing a blowjob, so obviously, I had to give it a try myself. 😉

Convalescence

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Feelings are realized as you nurse Arthur back to health after his run-in with the O’Driscolls. Actions, however, are a bit limited during his convalescence.

Everything hurts. From the searing pain in his shoulder to the overall ache of his muscles, this definitely ranks as one of the most painful experiences of his life.

Regards sent to Colm O’Driscoll, of course.

He opens his eyes and a shadowed figure slowly comes into focus, a small, feminine frame seated on a stool next to his cot.

It’s you, but your normally tressed hair hangs limply in a ponytail, your eyes bloodshot and puffy, and it was obvious that you’ve been crying as his vision clears up.

“Wh- why are you cryin’ there, sweetheart?” He hoarsely whispers, voice rough from disuse.

You rub at your eyes, but it is mostly in vain as you can’t stem the flow of tears tracking down your cheeks. “When y-you fell off your horse when you came back, I-I thought you were d-dyin’.”  

Your voice cracks on the last word.

Arthur frowns, “Sweet girl, I ain’t worth them tears. Save ‘em for a good man.”

“You - you’re such a fool,” You grit out, teeth clenching, “You - you are a good man. The best of them, Arthur Morgan.”

“C’mon now, darlin’. Stop your lyin’.”

“I’m not lying.” You move to sit on the side of the cot, hovering over him, “Why can’t you see what a good man you are? Why are you so blind to it?”

He remains silent. Silly girl. You haven’t seen what he can do - what he does - to other men. The blood on his hands. You’d be far less likely to be praising him, far less likely to be…

…leaning in closer to him.

A pang sears through Arthur’s chest, sharp as a whip, when he realizes you aren’t pulling away from him.

“You’re by far the best man I’ve ever known.”

“Reckon you haven’t known many men then, little miss.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, and in that moment, you lean completely over him and press your lips against his, a move he’s not completely surprised by.

His good arm, unburdened with the wound on his shoulder, winds around your shoulders as you press against his chest gently, still hovering so as not to put too much weight on him.

Arthur allows it all, from the first timid press of your lips on his to the far less timid pressing of your tongue, demanding entry into his mouth. He groans in response as he lets you in, and a mewl works its way up your throat.

It's only then, with you hovering inches above his chest, lips, and tongue working against his own, that he realizes that this is quickly turning into a predicament. Of course, it is, considering the view he’s gotten down the front of your blouse.

Someone, god, hopefully not you, stripped him of his bloody union suit, which probably did need to be burned, but failed to re-dress him. He was nude as the day he was born underneath the blankets, and it became increasingly clear as he felt his blood rushing toward his groin. 

Of all the times to act like a damn teenage boy-

He cannot help the groan that wells up in him as you shift, the curve of your waist at the flare of your hip pressing against his own - pressing against his hardening member.

He internally curses when you slowly pull away. 

But your eyes are lust-blown, a red blush settling on your cheeks. 

“Darl-”

“Let me take care of you.” You say, slowly sitting up and reaching for the edge of the blanket with your small, thin fingers. 

He wants to tell you to stop, that you don’t have to do this, that you don’t have to do anything, that he’s been smitten with you since you rode in half-starved and doe-eyed on the back of Davey’s horse all those months ago. 

But silent he remains as you slowly draw the blanket down his body. Your nose crinkles as your lips turn downwards as inch by inch of his chest is revealed to you - bruises and lash marks and signs of the torture he received at Colm’s hand.

“Oh, Arthur.” You sigh sadly, eyes watering over again.

“ ‘m gonna be fine, sweetheart. Just a little uglier than usual.” He tries to lighten the mood with self-depreciation, but the deepening of your frown tells him that’s not working. You blink the tears collecting away and continue to pull the blanket downward, revealing his navel and the trail of dark, wiry hair leading downwards.

He sucks in a breath as the collecting fabric brushes against his ramrod-hard cock.

Finally, finally, your hand slowly pulls the blanket over his hips, first over the curls at the bottom of his pelvis, to expose his cock, leaking from the tip and laying heavily over his thigh. 

You look back at him, and he’s wide-eyed, biting his lower lip, looking down at you hovering over his hips. You can see his chest expanding with his breathing, speeding up as he stares at you. 

You lean down and Arthur’s good arm swings over his head to block his vision, because if he sees this, he’s sure to make embarrassing noises loud enough for the whole damn camp to hear.

He feels your small hand wrap around his cock, and he bites his lip not to make a sound as you gently pull it upright.

But he is not able to stifle the noise he makes when his cock is enveloped in something wet and warm - his arm flies upward and he cranes his head to watch you take him into your mouth. An embarrassingly needy whine escapes his mouth, but that’s better than the shout he wants to let out as you suck gently at the head, your tongue pressing against the weeping slit of his cock.

“Jesus Christ.”

You let go of the head of his cock with a pop, and he bucks up slightly, as if to follow your warmth as you look up at him.

“You alright? Need me to stop?” You ask, one hand still wrapped around his length.

“Oh, darlin’, please, please don’t ask me that.” His forearm slides across his eyes again as his other hand.

“So you want me to keep goin’?”

“Jesus fuck, of course.” He replies incredulously, flabbergasted that you could doubt this felt amazing.

You smile for a moment before turning back to his length, enveloping him once again in the velvet warmth of your mouth. His head hits the pillow as he loudly sucks in a breath.

You slowly, deliberately, work your way down his length, bobbing up and down, sucking on his skin gently as you take more and more of him into your mouth.

It feels like years you’re doing this, inch by inch of velvety skin warmed by your wet cavern. 

Finally, you gag slightly as your nose touches the chestnut curls at the base of his cock, saliva dripping down from your lips and slowly running down toward his heavy, full testicles, and he has to actively clench the sides of the cot to stop himself from bucking upward. 

“Oh, oh god, woman.” He mutters as you slide back up, fingers once again grasping the base of his length as you suck in a breath, looking up at him with a hint of a smile, your lips and chin shimmering with your spittle. His cock shines against the oil lamp’s yellowed light, absolutely dripping wet from your mouth.

You lean back down again, but instead of taking his length into your mouth, you run your tongue down its side, all the way down where you nuzzle against the globes at the base of his cock, gently sucking one into your mouth. He whines, whines, this gunslinger, this outlaw, this hardened mountain of muscle beneath you. All being torn apart as you suckle on him.

After several moments, you pull back, and he’s panting, chest heaving, a sheen of sweat developing over his clavicles, and the bandages wrapped tightly across his pectorals and shoulder.

Your thumb presses gently on the underside of his cock, and he closes his eyes and lets out a low, long moan. You smile, rubbing at his hip affectionately.

“Christ alive, woman, you’re killin’ me.”

“Ain’t done yet, Arthur.”

And with that, you resume, leaning down and retaking him, sucking harder than you have before, leaving him squirming beneath you. 

You suck, and bob, you squeeze his balls and rub at his thighs. Lord almighty, he must have died at Colm’s hand - this had to be heaven.

The burning in his gut reaches a fever pitch, and he knows he’s not long to last.

He tries to sit up, but can’t with his shoulder bound, and finds that he just has to make enough noise to tell you to get off of him.

“Darl- darlin’, I’m gonna come- you- you need to move-”

His sentence goes unfinished as you look up at him, mouth full of his cock, and slowly, deliberately, slide all the way down, saliva dribbling out of your mouth again as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat.

Arthur’s eyes go as wide as saucers, and he audibly swallows before his head hits the pillow once again. You slide up and down, sucking, tongue working around his length, the gentle suction of your mouth causing him to whimper.

He grunts, hands clenched around the wooden sides of the cot, hips moving despite his attempts not to. He is completely at your mercy - each lick and suck of his cock sends him further down that road of unabashed pleasure.

“Sweet- oh god, oh - fuck - I’m -” Arthur cannot finish his sentence before he trails off into a groan, his hips bucking up as you press down, and he shoots his spend down your throat, you pull back, gagging slightly, and as you sit up, Arthur can barely believe his eyes as he watches a dribble of his white, milky spend drip from the corner of your mouth. Christ, it makes him want to come again.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, clearing your throat, and pull the blanket up to Arthur’s chest once again, where he just looks at you, stupefied.

You cock an eyebrow at him as you slide up the side of the cot, sitting next to his chest. “You alright? That wasn-” You frown, “God, I hope that wasn’t bad.”

Arthur’s good hand grabs the collar of your shirt and yanks you down, where he presses his mouth to yours desperately, not caring at all that he can taste the bitter tang of himself on your tongue. You draw away after a moment, and Arthur tucks a strand of your hair that escaped its braid behind your ear.

“Woman, you’re the only one takin’ care of me from now on.”

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 5}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: Another overnight patrol, an asked favor, a miscommunication, a fleeting moment of pleasure and it all comes crumbling down. Even worse than you had anticipated, the allure of being a part of something bigger than yourself blinding you into believing it was finally within reach.

Word Count: 10.3k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, mild injuries, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, adult content, teasing, yearning, protective joel, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, size kink unlocked in reader, (girl, i feel you), reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: holy shit, i am so sorry for the mix up with the original content. i'm so emotionally drained from today that i didn't realize it wasn't the final version of the chapter that i uploaded. but it's fixed, all scenes are complete and as they should be.

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

It was your fault, you realized. As you set about searching for something you remembered seeing in the house when you had first been assigned to it and moved in with Aiden. It had been one of those things that you stared at in disbelief, startling manic, nearly hysterical laughter that had turned into tears and uneven breaths. So ridiculous to have come across it over a decade after the end of the world.

A pack of index cards.

Index cards. Who needed index cards at the end of the world, when language was all people had. Skills like writing, reading, all faded away and dormant reflexes that could be called upon if and when needed.

It hadn’t mattered if you could write, had the ability to write or read when you were running for your life from Infected and humans, crashing through the remains of what was once a town or city, crashing through snapping and unforgiving forests, crashing through unforgiving open land in the hopes that you weren’t spotted a mile away by someone trying to protect what was theirs or looking for targets.

It was your fault he had pulled away to the point of beginning his…thing with Marsha. The way you had run from him, run from what you had both shared. But it didn’t mean anything, he was...Joel was…an important part of the settlement. Integrated far better than you ever had the chance to and you would just ruin it for him. He had to understand that because he too, hadn’t tried to bring it up.

Gathering them and a few of the cookbooks you had, you settled at the kitchen table. Taking the time to flip through the recipes to find simple ones that could be adapted to the more limited means the settlement could produce. Eager to find ones that Joel wouldn’t find too challenging and would like the end result of.

Just as your pen hit the paper, a knock sounded on your door. Sighing, you set it down and made your way across the front of your home to find Tommy with a crying bundle in his hands.

“Maria left me with ‘im for the day to handle some council business and he won’t stop cryin’.” He looked like he was about to burst into tears himself, but you didn’t say as much. Knowing firsthand how draining it was to look after a newborn.

“Well, good morning to you too.” You said as the man shouldered his way past you and took up half of the couch, an old backpack swinging from his elbow.

“You said to come to you for anything we needed, and I need your help.”

“How do you know I’m not bad with babies, huh? Maybe they hate me and I’m one of those women who don’t like them?”

“But you’re not. Right?” His curls were a frizzled mess, his eyes telling of his sleepless night as they widened and regarded you almost desperately. Rocking the bundle in his arms gently, holding it close, But his arms looked angled weird, totally not in a natural hold. “Joel always said I was too anxious around Sarah when she was super little and that’s why she cried for him for hours until she tired herself out. But he’s busy workin’ on finishing up that new roof before the snow really starts to come down.”

You did know who Sarah was. It had been a rather slow and somber conversation between you and Joel one day in the middle of summer. You had only been going out on patrols with him for a few months at that point. Him and Tommy focusing on getting as much done around the town upon his return, taking longer than usual to add a newcomer to the roster.

He had asked after you, if you lived alone. You had answered yes, saying you lost everyone in the initial chaos of the outbreak. Your city too densely packed for a chance to return home, the only chance at survival had been to immediately flee. He had told you something similar, that he had lost everything but his brother in the wake of the virus. You hadn’t asked after who, but he had told you of his daughter. His biological daughter with a wet chuckle at how she was too kind for this world anyway. You had looked away from his tears, knowing even back then that he needed to speak otherwise it would eat him from the inside out. To think of her constantly and not be able to talk about her must’ve hurt just as much as losing her. Mentions of her sprinkled future conversations and you were glad he trusted you with that part of himself.

 But you weren’t sure if Tommy knew you did beyond her name as chalk on a blackboard memorial in his living room.

“I’m good with babies,” You assured the man beside you. Slipping a full bottle from the side of the pack and asked him to dap it to your wrist. You licked up the milky liquid, immediately pinpointing the issue.

“It’s too bland, a little sugar mixed in won’t do any harm. But I prefer maple since it’s got the same qualities of honey but less of the local pollen. Both will help build immunity to the blooms come spring time.” Standing up, you carefully moved the baby to rest along your front, head on your shoulder and moved into the kitchen. The cap had been unscrewed by a watching Tommy and you stirred in a bit of maple syrup that had been collected outside the gates.

The bundle in your arms was still crying, though not as high a volume as when Tommy had first entered the house. Softly hushing and cooing to try and calm him. The second you touched the bottle of sweetened milk to his little lips, he quieted down and began to sip.

“Oh, thank god.” Tommy’s head was in his hands, elbows atop his knees. You settled beside him once again, smiling over at the older man. “Olive, if this is too much, I promise-“

“It’s okay, really.” You let him rest a wide palm on your knee, his fingers caressing the bare skin there as your dress skirt allowed for them to show. His eyes wide and beseeching, making sure you were really okay before he sunk into the cushions. “I’ve made peace with it a long time ago…”

It was his fault. The thought consumed him as he inspected the planks of olive wood, having brought them into the house after the first heavy coat of frost that covered the whole town after a particularly chilly night. He recalled having woken up, shivering as he yanked on a pair of thick socks and searched through the closets in the house for a spare blanket to throw over his bed. How he wondered if you were warm enough in your own bed as he donned his boots unlaced and jacket unzipped to drape another blanket he had taken from the closet over a passed out Ellie in her little studio.

And then he had wondered what type of clothing you wore to bed. When you had answered the door in your robe, it hadn’t looked like you had anything on underneath it aside from maybe underwear and a tank top. Not enough to keep your skin from the chill that tended to seep in through the panes of the windows all around Jackson, despite the blessing of functioning heaters.

He hadn’t gone after you, his attention being called away. You had run off, too startled by being interrupted and most likely embarrassed at being caught in such an intimate moment. But…it had been such a good moment until it had been shattered.

You had shown up at his door in a long dress, the skirt flowing down to your knees, thick fabric around your legs to combat the ever-present chill in the air. There was a whicker basket, handle draped over your forearm. That paired with your worn boots and wide brimmed had had been such a lovely image to open his front door to.

It had been hard not to stare at you and you talked and guided Ellie through dinner, faint music drifting into the kitchen from the living room as he set about cleaning up after each step and setting the table. It was all so domestic and he wanted for more nights like it. Just you and him and Ellie.

Sighing, you made sure to lock the front door behind you. Apron bundled up beneath your armpit and thrown in the general direction of the laundry room door on the other side of the kitchen. Filling and setting a kettle over the stove, you stood and looked out your kitchen window for a moment, taking in the fluffy snow that had attempted to stick as the dark, moody sky brought it over the town. It was still early, the sunrise more than likely about to occur, but it hidden in the overcast.

You shifted your gaze over the counters, logging the ingredients you had on hand for a possible breakfast even if you weren’t terribly hungry at the moment. When they landed on the broken mixing spoon that had decided to crack and splinter last night under your soapy hands as you cleaned up over dinner, you moved to rummage in the hall closet. The scrape of untreated wood along the floor sent a chill up your spine as your fingers closed around what you were searching for.

The thick slab of wood is covered with an old flat sheet. It had been from a tree last year, one that had lost a main branch in the same winds that had taken a whole one from your collection.

It was beautiful. Rich in color, the grain so detailed and curling in beautiful swirls. Burl added layers and looking pretty as it was set just so in the cut. You had kept it, unable to burn it for the soil. The thought of asking Joel to make you a set of cooking utensils had been in the back of your mind for nearly the entire time he had been here. But now with the crop of cutting boards artfully crafted, you were tempted to ask him to make of those from the hefty source in your hands.

But he hadn’t offered you one, hadn’t so much as mentioned that he had begun to make more and more ever since that first one he had been ‘trying out the idea’ in Tommy’s kitchen. You were hesitant to bring it up, but with the holidays only a couple weeks away…you were curious to see his reaction to the request.

You didn’t ask anything of anyone. Not even when you first got here, had taken the time to acclimate to the way life was led here within the settlement. Community, social circles, job detail, patrol. All of it had been taken in stride, and you worked for everything in your possession. Joel did too. You admired him for it.

A few moments later, you were rapping your knuckles against the man’s front door.

Ellie comes around the side, hearing it from her separate garage. She had looked frustrated, then curious, then excited.

“Hey, Olive,” She walks up to you, noticing the wood in your hands. “The old man’s not home, he went to help out with the lil guy.”

“O-oh, okay. I’ll just come back, I guess.” But when you began to inch closer to the porch steps, she ascended them with a small smile.

“Nah, come hang with me until he gets back.” She brushed past you with a soft touch to your arm. A key slid into the lock and then you were hesitantly following her into the house. “Feel free to make some of that god awful coffee you two enjoy so much, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

You saw her dip off down the hall, the sound of her rustling through something behind an open door allowing you the privacy to make up your mind on the offer of coffee as you stood on the threshold to the kitchen. With a determined push, you set about to search for the coffee grounds and mugs. He had only two, one with a detailed owl and another more simple one. It was a plain white one that was hefty and looked like it belonged in the full hands of diner waitress. 

It transported you back to late nights and early mornings surrounded by ruckus laughter and inside jokes, the scent of pancakes and bacon cooking on a flattop and the jingle of a bell to signal overflowing plates were ready to be dug into.

“What’s that in the cloth?” Ellie’s curiosity piqued by the bundle you had set down atop the kitchen table, her long thin fingers slowly unwrapping it. With a nod from you, she did so completely. Her eyebrows shot up, thoughts swirling behind her keen eyes. They flicked to the back room just on the other side of the kitchen wall. Her bottom lip was taken between her teeth and she looked like she was trying not to laugh.

“I know it’s silly, but…” You couldn’t help but feel nervous admitting it out loud, that you wanted to ask Joel to take some of his sparse free time for a personal project. You poured yourself a steaming cup of the finished coffee, searching for the sugar cannister. “This has been drying for nearly a year and I was gonna ask Joel-“

“Gonna ask Joel what?” His voice sounded from the doorway into the kitchen, startling you both. You rushed to put yourself between him and the table, a poor attempt to hide the plank of wood from his curious eyes. He looked tired, no doubt having been up more than resting all last night if he had been over at Tommy and Maria’s.

Taking that as her queue to leave, Ellie bolted out the back door with a hollered goodbye.

“Oh, um. Hi,” You waved slightly at him, unsure of how he would take to coming home to his house and finding you in his kitchen. Even if Ellie had said it would be okay. You were nervous, knowing that asking for something was a tricky thing. Even if he was so willing to give to others; his time, his attention, his skills. “I ha-have this.”

Moving out of the way as he crept closer on heavy feet, you allowed him to see the olive wood you had hauled over here.

“I-I was wondering i-if you’d be able to make a set of cooking utensils out of this? But I understand if you’re too busy, or don’t want to work with the dense wood, or don’t have the time-“

"Of course, sweetheart. I’ll try my best for you." And just like that he melted all your worries away and a smile pulled at your lips.

He easily moved the chunk of wood from the kitchen to his workspace. The muscles of his arms bulging beneath his flannel, the muscles of his shoulders straining at the fabric over his broad shoulders. All for your viewing pleasure as you followed behind him. The room was smaller than you expected, on his ground floor, just down the hall from the kitchen. But it was such a reflection on who he was.

The main desk had a comfortable looking chair, thick cushion on the seat. Atop it was an open book, propped up on a few stacked behind it and open to a stunning photograph of a deer. In the center was a partially carved figurine of the deer in the photo, shavings around it and tools lined up in a half circle around the back of it.

“How many pieces did you want?” He carefully bent his knees and lowered the wood to the ground, atop a tarp that several long pieces of lumber were set on and leaning against the wall. Blocks of wood beside them and lined up against the wall almost like bricks.

“Oh, um, just however many you can manage.” The crack of his knees as he straightened worried you, but it happened to you more and more so you understood it wasn’t really painful so much as uncomfortable most of the time. 

"The cutting boards all around town...” Trailing off as a familiar scent caught your attention through the general smell of lumber, you moved toward the pile of wooden planks lined up along the wall like books atop a work table. There were many shades and types of wood, all different steps of being sanded down or stained, shavings nestled in a waste bucket beneath. Tools scattered over the surface and small cannisters of sealant and paint stacked neatly beside them. Two of the planks of wood were light, ashy and your attention honed in on them as you moved toward the table. “It was kinda my idea and I was wondering if-"

"Sweetheart, I can't make you one." You startled at the boom of his voice so close, blocking your view from the stack of them as he moved to stand in front of you. The hand that had been reaching out with the intention of caressing them fell back to your side.

"Oh, um, okay." You cast your eyes down, taking in the worn leather of his boots. Of yours. There were so many of them, easily two handfuls and yet he wasn’t willing to share one with you. But everyone else around town seemed to be worthy and you couldn’t help but wonder why you weren’t. You were friends, he had said it himself. But then…but then you had kissed him and fled.

No question as to why flowed from you. You were used to not being included, but you had to admit that it stung coming from him. In an attempt to mask it you tried to smile but you weren’t sure if it actually showed. Your chest ached, body feeling like it wasn’t yours. Like you were looking down on it as it stood in that workspace with the man who sought solace within it. Like you had intruded, and shame bubbled up for having made yourself comfortable where you shouldn’t have.

"Can't find a sealant that would hold up to those knives we found. You'd just cause damage to it."

"Okay, but-“ You tried to backtrack, to apologize for being so curious.

"No, Olive. I don't have one for you, so please quit askin'."

You didn’t say anything, your voice stuck in your throat. Turning and walking away from him without looking up, afraid to see his expression. You faintly heard his voice calling after you, but you ignored it, it was far away. It was as if you were down in a tunnel, like you had tipped over and fell down into one the second Joel had turned you down.

You wanted to move past it, to gloss over it, to stay and enjoy in the time he had been willing to give you on his one day free from responsibilities. But you couldn’t, your chest felt like it had caved in, like you were hollow, like you would never be able to break into the social graces of the settlement. Marked with the death of someone who had, someone who kept messing up and making it easy for people to turn you away.

He thinks about how hurt you looked when he tried to ward you off from the stack of cutting boards he had practiced designs on and different shapes. berating himself for being so harsh when he had been scared you would see the wood he had taken from you without your knowledge. You had been reaching for the planks made from it, drawn to them as if they were magnetized.

The way in which you had shut down, his soothing words after denying you falling on deaf ears as you turned and simply walked away from him. He had been under the impression you wanted to spend the day with him. You had been an unexpected guest but not an unwelcome one. It had been nice to return to his home to find you there, comfortable enough to have put on a pot of coffee and the errant scent of that woodsy, floral perfume that seemed to be a part of your skin from tending to the trees in your yard.

But you had just turned and walked away.

He watched you go, not liking the way you had shrunk into yourself at his denial. He had tried to be soft with it, you couldn’t know that you had been asking after the one thing he wanted to keep a secret from you. That you had given him the idea and he was practicing and making so many different prototypes all to ensure that when it came time to craft yours, that he would be able to do so easily.

He scrubbed a hand roughly over his face, sighing out as he dressed for patrol. His alarm had gone off an hour ago but he had already been awake, sleep evading him as the moment from the other day played in his mind’s eye over and over again.

Settling on the musty cushions beside you, the memory of the last time he had done so puffed up along with a cloud of dust. It had been a long day. Clearing the village and finding a place to hole up in for the night.

“I’ll take the first watch, try ‘n get some rest.” He murmured low, taking in the way you were already curling your legs up underneath your body on the other end of the couch. The scarf around your neck pulled up for you to bury your face into it, hands in their gloves and secure in the pockets of your coat.

You didn’t think you even responded, the cold of the day draining you and making sleep too alluring a respite even with the broad man beside you and all alone for the first time in a while.

Bird calls woke you up hours later, signaling the start of a new day. The warmth of sleeping was a lull to the chill you knew awaited outside, but you pressed into the bed further, burrowing even more into the lump of blankets you tended to scrunch up beside you.

But the lump shifted and your eyes flew open to find a different setting than you dark bedroom. You weren’t asleep in your bed, you were sunk into a decrepit couch and pressed into Joel’s right side, having sought out his warmth in the cold house. He was asleep too, his eyes closed despite his body still seated up with his feet resting on the ground.

You couldn’t help but rest your cheek on his shoulder, taking comfort in how close and warm he was, even if it had been an instinctual move to begin with.

He was so handsome. Beautiful. From the scar across the bridge of his nose, the one at his temple, to the freckles that littered his tan skin. Wrinkles relaxed as he slept, his plush lips parted slightly. His body sunk into the fabric where he had settled last night, long and lean. His mass so large you had shifted in your sleep to press up against him, partially on him to share the small couch and steal his warmth. His neck bent back a little as his head lulled onto the back cushions.

Your eyes roved down the strong column of his neck, catching on the way his adam’s apple jutted out and you resisted the urge to lean in and nip at it.

His hands, dear god, his hands. They were slack in his lap, his entire body completely lax as he slept slumped beside you. Veins and freckles decorated the skin, mind running with the idea of them tight around different parts of your body. How they would feel wrapped around your hips, your breasts, your neck…

You couldn’t help but reach out and lay a hand atop one of his, your palm over the back of his. Your stomach fluttered, the heat settling low. Your own hand looked so small, atop his. The difference so startling.

“Mm, good mornin’,” Joel’s gravelly rumble made you jump, realizing you had gripped two of his fingers in your hand. He jostled the hand in your grip and you felt heat flood your cheeks at being caught touching him. When you moved to take it back, he curled his fingers, catching your hand and pulling it up to his lips where he pressed his lips to the back of it. “Don’t act all shy now, sweetheart.”

You throb.

The gusset of your underwear suddenly dampens as you clench around nothing.

“I-I don’t know what came over me, you were sleeping and I shouldn’t ha-have-“ Trying to tamp down your less than friendly thoughts, the allure you felt wash over you at his sleepy timbre, to backtrack away from what could end up being another thing to have him avoiding you around the settlement.

But he surprised you, emboldened by the hazy thoughts displayed in the parting of your own lips, the heat he could feel rolling off of you, the pressure you tried to relieve between your legs with a clench of your thighs together. And then his thick, sleep coated words turned sultry, pitched low and velvet.

“Thinkin’ about my hands on ya, huh? Sweet little thing, what was it?” He guided your hand to cup his cheek and then rest against his neck. “Thinkin’ about my hands here?”

When he squeezed your hand around it, you felt faint for the way your blood was rushing and thundering loud in your ears.

“N- no.” You swallowed, voice breathy and pitched low as you struggled to find words.

“No? What about…” He moved your hand to his chest, right in the middle of his ribcage. His heart was thundering beneath the flannel, mirroring your own. “Here?”

Your breath hitched as he moved it further, not giving you the chance to answer this time. Down ,down, down past the hem of his shirt beneath his jacket to the denim of his jeans. Pressing your palm down atop the zipper, you could feel the long line of him, hot and semi-hard. It twitched at the pressure, and you couldn’t help the whimper that fell from your lips. Eyes having been dragged down along with your clasped hands.

“What about here?” His lips grazed the shell of your ear as his question was pressed close, nose brushing sensitive skin just behind it. Mustache and beard lightly scraping against you, causing you to shiver and press down your hand more firmly. He groaned out, the sound burrowing deep into you. He twitched again beneath your palm and all the air in your lungs whooshed out.

And then he was dipping his head to capture your lips in a hard kiss. His tongue trailed over the seam of your lips, and you let him in without a thought. Pleasure flared from the heat that had taken hold of your entire body, the air crackling with the need for him to be closer, to be pressed to you completely, pressed inside of you completely. Body buzzing, needing more more more from him you shift to cup his cheek with your other hand.

When he speaks next, his voice is all soft. Southern twang breathy and so close as his lips graze yours, his forehead pressed to your own. The press of hot skin only a prelude to what you hoped was more…

“Sweetheart, I-“

The sudden creak of the back door opening cut the tension of the room and your stomach filled with dread. Joel’s hands became almost painful on you as both your heads whipped around to stare at the kitchen threshold, waiting with bated breath for the intruding source to walk through it.

He was up off the couch in a second, his handgun in his palm and he stalked silently toward the kitchen, leaving you on the couch to reach for your own. But your attention was pulled to the front door of the house just as he disappeared through the threshold.

Two shadows crept into the house and your ducked down to avoid being seen immediately.

There were sounds of a scuffle in the kitchen and you took the opportunity to sneak around the couch in a crouch and stand with the gun trained on the larger figure of the two just on the other side of it.

“Drop your gun or I shoot.” You kicked his legs apart, hand patting him down as he listened to your command. He didn’t have any other weapons on him and the woman a few feet away didn’t visibly have any, her clothing tight around her middle, large jacket draping over her to keep her swollen middle warm.

You took your eyes off of her for one second to kick the gun away and behind you when she lunged. A shiny piece of something glinted in her hand and you shouted out as it cut across your own middle.

Grunting, you elbowed the man in the ribs, winding him and sending him to crumple to the ground in pain. You kicked out and wrapped your foot around one of the woman’s legs and tugged her close, ignoring the sensation of that same piece of whatever it was in her grip as it tore into your jacket sleeve.

You smacked her hand against the wall behind her, being mindful of her stomach and was about to wrap your hands around her neck when the man wheezed out a pleading cry.

“Don’t hurt her, please!” He tired to catch is breath, but you didn’t break your focus away from the woman you had pinned down. A wave of nausea rose over you, the only indication before you collapsed, blood soaking the front of your shirt in a dark, wet patch.

“Shit, I think you cut her too deep.” The man crawled over to you, his hands pressing down to try and staunch the flow. The woman fell to her knees beside him, her hands reaching out to grip one of your arms. The clatter of the weapon she had used was loud and you looked over to it. It was a piece of dirty glass.

“I-I didn’t me-mean to hurt you so badly! I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck, okay, go to my pack.” They shared a confused look, but the fact that they hadn’t run off with yours and Joel’s supplies to their remorse at hurting you told you they were good people. “Go! There’s a spare shirt, we need it to put over the wound.”

Just as she bent to dig into the pack by the couch, Joel’s quiet steps and low threat called as he entered the room.

“Get your hands off of her and step back.”

“Wait! They aren’t Infected!” You panted, voice sharp despite the effort it was taking to breath as your middle burned, knowing the man’s instincts had taken over completely. His steps measured. His gun raised. His reasoning marred by the sight of you bleeding on the floor.

“They hurt you.” His honeyed drawl gone, replaced with an air of authority that demanded attention, all dark, rich molasses sticking everyone in place.

“It was an accident, Joel, please. They…they have a baby on the way. We have to take them back.”

“That true?” He kept the shot gun aimed at the man hovering over you, the blood shining on his hands making his nerves twitch. But his eyes landed on the woman who had been rummaging through your bag for first aid supplies. She slowly stood from her crouch, revealing her swollen belly.

He ordered them both to take a seat on the couch, telling them he would deal with them once he tended to you, letting them know that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if they tried something. He then kneeled down on the ground beside you, one of his large hands going over yours holding the wad of fabric to your middle, the other going to cup your cheek.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” His eyes bore into you, stern edge to them. You were visibly shaking, skin looking sallow and sweat beading at your temple. He carefully moved your hands aside, eyes flicking from your pained expression to the injury as he slowly lifted the fabric you had pressed to it. And then the hem of your sweater and tank top underneath.

Lips a grim line and eyes dark as he took in the still bleeding injury. His brow furrowed deeper as a thick rivulet ran down your side to spill onto the floor and Joel cursed under his breath. The gash was a few inches long across your stomach, to the left of your belly button, rimmed and irritated red. Angry and no doubt already infected if the shard of dirtied glass abandoned beside you was any indication. Your blood stained it, the woman’s fingertips pressed into it in smeared, red marks.

“Shit, it’s already starting to get infected.”

You managed a weak nod, both in response to his question and muttered worries fighting off the tears as he pressed around the wound, trying to get a gauge of how deep it was. You held back a whimper at the prodding, bottom lip firmly between your teeth.

“Joel, there’s gau-gauze in my pack.”

“Find it and toss it to me, quick.” He raised a threatening look to the pair on the couch, their heads turned and watching everything play out. Worried that if you were to bleed out, the man wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate or leave them here to their own devices.

The woman rushed to dig into your pack once more, fingers finding the crinkling plastic wrapped around the sterile gauze. She tossed it to Joel, the hand that had moved down from your cheek to rest over your heart on your chest reached out to snag it from the air. He ripped it open with his teeth and urged your hands to hold it down atop the wound.

You could only watch through hazy eyes as he shucked off his jacket and then his flannel. With a smooth motion he removed his t-shirt, his most base layer. With his chest on full display, the dark hair over his chest and trailing down from his belly button you startled at the sound of ripping fabric. The knife he kept holstered on the back of his waist out of is sheath as he used it to cut a thick strip from the hem of his shirt. He gently urged you to lift up from the ground for him to wind it around your back and tie it securely over the wound.

Slipping two fingers below it to ensure it was tight enough to keep pressure but not overly so as to cause more problems. It felt a thousand times better already, your nausea waning as the blood stopped flowing from your body. But you would definitely need stitches and antibiotics once back inside the gates. Once he was sure the wound was okay for the moment, he took both your hands in his, a slight tremor to them. His thumbs rubbing soothingly across the backs of them.

“Okay, you’re okay,” He murmured. He leaned down to press his forehead to yours. Breathing in deep and your lashes fluttered as he sighed out. His eyes were clenched shut and he took a moment to ground himself before he pulled back and peppered chaste kisses over your face. Your forehead, each of your cheeks, the tip of your nose. The edges of your mouth.

“I’m okay,” You promised, unable to ignore how shaky his breathing was so close. A nervous giggle sounded from you, unable to tamp it down as your head swam. “But maybe you should put your clothes back on before you freeze.”

“Can’t lose you, sweetheart.” The whispered sentiment washed over you, leaving you warm and light in the chest for a completely different reason. Only when you nodded in understanding, did he reach over for his flannel and shrug it back over his broad shoulders. The buttons closed up with deft fingers as he watched you take a mental stock of your body and how it felt. You said up just as his jacket was pulled back into place over the flannel.

“Good thing ‘m not goin’ anywhere then, huh?” His wet chuckle was the only response you got before he helped you to stand. He guided you over the couch with an arm around your shoulders, silently demanding that the pair move from the cushions to make room for you. Making sure you were comfortable with both packs beside you before he turned his attention to the people who had injured you.

A nurse took you in quickly, insisting someone else would do a thorough check on the brother and sister you and Joel had brought to them once leaving the horses at the stables. The backup shirt you had taken along with you in your pack tied to your abdomen with a scrap of fabric from the bottom of Joel’s undershirt. It was better than nothing, better than bleeding out.

You had insisted that the woman, Callie carefully got up on Lowry for the trip back. Joel had been worried about them sharing a horse together, the very real possibility of them taking off on it at the forefront of his mind. But you had assured him that they could be trusted. That they could’ve taken both your packs and left you to bleed out on the floor.

That was how you had found yourself once again sharing a horse with Joel for an entire day. The feel of his body pressed close to your back so different from when he had tried to keep his distance. His hands secure around your waist and resting atop the saddle horn. You tried not to let it distract you, carrying on casual conversation with them to get a feel for who they were. Every so often, when you grunted at particularly hard hoofbeats or a rough jostle, his right hand would press against your roughly patched wound.

Stitches, the nurse had said. At least four of them.

Joel was outside the hall, waiting for you to be released. He looked up from the notepad in his hands when you exited the room, brown eyes tired. You couldn’t read his thoughts, though you were too tired to begin to think what that could mean.

“Hey, what’d they say?” He surged up, the notebook going back into his pocket, the worn fabric snug around it. He retrieved the coat and sweater he had kept for you when the nurse had asked you to remove all outer layers.

You lifted the torn tank top, allowing him to see the clean, bright white bandage that had been taped over the injury. The fait outline of stitches could be seen through it. Two of his fingers brushed against it, almost tenderly.

“No painkillers, those are only for serious cases.” You let him help you put the sweater back on, his hands holding the head opening side for you to slid it on, gently tugging the fabric into place around your sore arms. “They gave me a shot of antibiotics and a pack of fresh gauze. Gotta come in next week to get the stitches looked at.”

“I’m so sorry.” He murmured as he held the coat up for your to slip your arms into. When you turned around to face him again, he pulled you to him in a loose embrace. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Joel, it’s okay. We’re okay. I promise.” You leaned up, mindful of the new pull on your middle, and pressed your lips to his cheek. Sighing at the soft pressure, he walked alongside you out of the building.

Since there wasn’t anything they could give you for the pain,  you just wanted to lay in bed and rest. But you also wanted to try and find a reason to get out of the house later. Swallowing down your fear of rejection, knowing he was the one person who wouldn’t do that to you, you asked him for a drink later in the evening.

But he didn’t look up from the paper in his hands as he walked out the front door with you, scribbling something down on a page that only had two previous lines of script. The chill of the wind breezing past you both as you repeated your question in slightly louder volume, sure he just hadn’t heard you. You knew he was hard of hearing in his right ear and that was the side you were on. But what you didn’t expect was his haphazard response. So at odds with the tenderness and care he had shown you throughout the day.

"Huh? Oh uh, I can't tonight. Sorry, I'll see ya, Olive." And then he's off without so much as a glance your way, leaving you standing outside the infirmary. It left you more than a little concerned, whiplash at the sudden shift from intimate, to protective, to nothing so much as a glance all from the same man.

It’s early, the sun not even showing signs of rising. Snow drifted down, a perfect morning. You were humming to yourself, mentally planning out the meals you could make. A breakfast casserole that would allow for the use of root vegetables, eggs, some of the goat cheese that had been made perhaps. You were minding your own business, enjoying the walk to the mess hall and the kitchen that would allow you to work and forget the hollow feeling that hadn’t left you all last night. It was easier feeling nothing other than the faint pull of stitches on your abdomen.

You catch a figure walking out of a front door further down the street. The figure broad but their steps light as they descended the porch to Marsha’s house.

Oh.

It was Joel.

He didn’t have a utility belt, he didn’t have a toolbox, he didn’t have anything that indicated he had been there to repair something.

It was Joel Miller, leaving Marsha’s house. Far too early to mean anything other than the fact that he had spent the night inside, with her. Guess that's why he had turned down your offer for an evening with you. He already had someone to share drinks with, someone to spend his time with.

Turning, you tried not to follow his figure as he began to walk down the street, facing away from you.

You could only think that it was because of the way you had run the other night. Because of the way you two kept giving into yearning touches only for the moment to be yanked away. Three times now, far too much trouble for someone as busy as him. Someone with a life like he led as he cared for his family and the repairs that were needed around the settlement. You were desperate, for company, for attention, for him. It must’ve not settled well with him to realize how much you wanted him and that it never seemed to work out in his favor, only friend or not.

Deep down, you knew that wasn’t the reason. He was such an understanding man, and he wouldn’t put the blame on you. But the fact of the matter was that he was willingly spending his time with Marsha.

He wasn’t sure where you had disappeared to, your house dark safe for the light over the stoop light up in a warm tone. He had a box in his hands, something he had rifled through his, Ellie’s, and Tommy’s homes for to fit the finished set of wooden utensils you had asked him to make.

He had taken his time, sneaking glances at the ones in your kitchen when he dropped you off after patrol one morning and you offered him a light lunch. You had made grilled sandwiches, pairing them with some steamed vegetables that were beginning to wilt in the cold air of the house. You ran the heat on a good middle range, to ensure it didn’t get too stuffy and begin to take a toll on the record collection in the living room or the books you kept on every surface and crammed lovingly into the many bookshelves you had.

You seemed to favor spoons, though he did catch sight of a few rather flat spatulas. He had inspected the wood thoroughly before he even thought of measuring it. Admiring the way the dried wood looked and taking notes down on the pad of paper he kept on him at all times. Compared it to the two planks he had, noting the different feel and heft of them versus the completely dry specimen you had brought to him.

He let his thoughts wander as he took a seat on the cold concrete steps of your stoop. Opting to wait for your return for a few moments, hoping that you would return soon as evening had fallen, the set having set a few hours ago. He didn’t recall you mentioned evening shifts at the mess hall, opting for the mornings that you enjoyed. Something about the quiet of the town, less lonely than the nights, had been a quiet admittance. He had been too shocked to respond, you must’ve taken his silence as the end of the conversation. You had turned quiet alongside him, the only sound for the rest of the route back to the gates had been the hooves along the ground.

It struck him now, that you had been admitting even early on how lonely you were. How the town choosing to not interact with you had hurt, had been hurting you. A warning even then, that you were sensitive to the dynamic and went along with it even if you didn’t agree with it. You were such a lovely person. Kind hearted, giving, caring, and he loathed that people like Marsha perpetuated the agenda against you.

She was relentless in her attention on him and he was getting a little annoyed with it. But he was being cordial, the exact word you had used to describe the woman. He had finished the last of her shelving the other day. He had worked overnight to get it fitted and fastened to the wall. Securing it with bolts and weight holding supports, wanting to be done with the project that had been more of a coercion of his skills. She was a manipulator and he had played into her hands just like she had wanted.

He felt like a fool, knowing he had agreed to do it for your sake and out of a need to protect you.

Then he realized there were two people who allowed you into their lives. That spoke fondly of you, invited you to dinner, allowed you shares of what they could get the last of in down on main street.

Standing, he hoped to find you among his family. Making his way his way to Tommy’s, Maria was the one to answer the door. A finger to her lips to signal him to keep quiet as she slipped out the door to join him on the porch.

“They’re both sleeping, it took an hour to get him down and then of course Tommy slumped over.” She didn’t seem upset, but the news allowed for Joel to realize you weren’t here either. Clocking his silence and the box in his hand, she cocked her head up a little to examine his features. “Everything okay, Joel? Olive didn’t pull her stitches already, did she?”

“Yeah, everythin’ is okay. I’m actually looking for her. Have you seen her today?” He shuffled on his feet, aware of how they ached as the cold settled in to stay for the season.

“She’s at the bar, came by with dinner for us on her way out.” Maria explained, watching his closely. Able to pick up on his agitation. It was odd when she compared it to the almost forces nonchalance you had exhibited earlier.

“Can you hold onto this for me, I’ll be back to get it tomorrow.” He thrusted the box into the woman’s hands and was making off down the street before she could even respond.

The bar is a cacophony of sounds, of laughter, of conversation, the clink of glasses being lifted and then placed back on tables. The gurgle of more drinks being poured, of ice tinkling in glasses, all of it was so nice to just sit in and enjoy. Even if you were alone on your stool.

"Another round?" You disguised the clenching of your hand around your empty glass, the voice right behind you. His voice, the charming drawl pitched low and so so close.

“I don’t think we should be drinking with each other.” You shifted away from him, not wanting him to think you were open to spending time with him after his rejection, after his secret of seeing Marsha was exposed to you in the form of his leaving her house far too early for any reason than having stayed the night, for the way you had wanted to say yes to spending time with him but it hurt too much. For the way that it was getting harder and harder to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him, to run your hand down his arm or back in a soothing caress. “I’m waiting for someone.”

His brow furrowed as he regarded you, lifting his drink to his lips and taking a deep pull from the amber liquid inside. He sat down atop the stool beside you despite your words. His glass settled on the bar top, now empty. Your eyes were focused on the melting ice, not able to look at the man who was giving you his attention.

“What’s that?” He huffed, almost chuckled as he believed you were just joking, teasing him like you tended to do sometimes while out on patrol. But you weren’t, both of you seated at the long bar of the Tipsy Bison on the main street in town. When you still didn’t raise your eyes to him, he realized you weren’t, that you were turning him down and away.

“Tell me the real reason,” He leaned close, pivoting the seat of the stool so you faced him. Your insides whooshed with the movement. With the way he demanded your attention, with the entirety of his focus on you almost breaking your resolve to remain professional. Aware of all the eyes constantly watching you, judging you; all the eyes on him constantly watching for entirely different reasons, fawning over him.

“Because I like you.” You admitted, unable to deny him the truth. You could only lift your eyes as high as his lips, which was a mistake as you recalled the feel of them. They were so soft, so plush and you never had the chance to gently nip at his bottom one…

“Well, I like you too, Olive.” His nose brushed your cheek, moving impossibly close, his thumbs digging into your thighs as he held to the stool.

“No, I like you, Joel. And this isn’t a good idea.” You pulled back, aware that you were both in a very public place. That the looks focused on you both, your intimacy, combined with soft murmurs of voices that could be saying anything. Making notions in their minds that he was associated with you, that he spent time with you enough to feel comfortable engaging in this type of behavior. And that was bad, it was so bad for people to associate him with you. It would cause people to question him after everything he did for the town. It would begin to erase all the good he had provided.  “Joel, people are looking.”

“Don’t worry about them, just focus on me.” Your eyes snapped to his, taking in the way the brown of them was alight from the sconces around the bar. There was no hesitancy in them, no remorse. Only adoration and your stomach swooped, your heart fluttered. But you tried your best to resist.

“That’s not a good idea either.” You whispered.

“You thinkin’ of doin’ somthin’ to me?”

“M-maybe.” The admittance rolls off your tongue, his lips close enough that he can taste it.

“Sweetheart, I’d let ya if that’s what you wanted.”

“N-no.” It took everything in you to deny him, to deny the tension that pulled your muscles tight in every part of your body.

“No?” He leaned back, taking your words and heeding them, sensing that you meant them, even if it was a stuttered, breathy response.

“I don’t want to, I mean I do, but- this” You motioned between the two of you, how little space there was between your bodies. His body pivoted toward you and his hands still partially around the denim of your thighs. “Isn’t a good idea.”

His eyes roamed over you, seeing the nerves and truth of your demeanor. You did like him, and it was becoming a problem. He didn’t need a younger woman fawning over him, the friendly rapport riddled with holes. Of temptations that were tamped down by his unwillingness to share his craft with you, the time he had been spending with Marsha, the pull of his attention in so many directions, especially with the holiday hurtling toward the town tomorrow.

“We’re hardly friends, Miller. You barely started acknowledging me outside of patrol.” You reached for your drink so you’d be less likely to cup his face in your hands and throw caution to the wind.

“What makes you think I haven’t been tryin’ to keep my hands to myself, bein’ around you?” His voice tipped low, to avoid being overheard despite the closeness he had initiated. Closing your eyes at the visual, you shook you head as your throat bobbed with the sip you had taken from your drink.

“Because you don’t like me that way.” You scoffed, beginning to lean away from him. “You didn’t even get me anything for the holiday…You’re with Marsha.”

“Didn’t get your name in swap.”

“Oh.” And all the fight you had in you crumbled at his simple words. The reassurance in his voice that drowned out the hum of the environment all around you.

“But I thought - Ellie was asking so many questions I figured she was doin’ the work for you.”

“Maybe she got you?” He tapped the lip of his glass as the bartender wandered close, signaling for another when the man got the chance. His hand going back to your leg in a second.

“N-no. She got Jesse. Whoever got me most likely tossed the scrap of paper and picked another.”

“Marsha and I are just friendly, it’s nothing beyond that. Olive, I swear to –“

Someone cleared their throat unnervingly close. You both turned away from each other to face the person who had decided to break the currents flowing between your bodies, tension thick in the air with their approach.

Marsha. With a wrapped gift in her hand and a yearning look for Joel. Her attention solely on him.

“So much for just being friendly, huh, Miller?” You set your drink down, glass nearly empty and pushed off from your stool. The drag of his large hands over the tops of your thighs not registering as you quickly took off. Leaving him to the woman who seemed to be a constant companion as of late. Better company for him, you though begrudgingly as you made your way through the snow-covered streets and back to the safety of your home.

Sighing, you picked up the wrapped bundle of recipe cards. Joel’s gift.

The one you had spent hours pouring over, making sure your writing was neat and legible, the cursive loops delicately over the lines on the thick cardstock. You had debated whether or not he would be able to read the script, knowing how he squinted at certain things. No doubt needing glasses in his older age, an item you always kept a keen eye out for should it end up being a perfect match for him.

Your heart panged, the fleeting image of him tucked in bed beside you with a book or manual in his hands and a pair of reading glasses perched on his aquiline nose. His scruff catching the light of a soft bedside lamp and the silver sparkling. His curls damp from an evening shower, the scent of him so clean and pure beside you as you lay tucked in the other side. It hurt. It hurt to think you would never get to experience that, experience him in every simple, mundane way.

With a long-suffering huff, you reached for some of the dried leaves you kept from the trees when you last preened them. Fastening it to the top of the bundle with a piece of twine. You don’t write Joel’s nor yours. He would know it was from you from the writing inside, from the olive twig. A parting gift, you guessed.

This would be the last thing you would offer him before drawing back to your solemn life. He had brought color and life and laughter into it, but the hurt wasn’t worth it. Your heart and body aching for a man who had too much to lose.

You faintly heard soft voices trailing along the dark streets, the light fixtures doing their best to illuminate the way for any one who was out at the late hour. The sky dark with the added overcast that hadn’t waned during the day. Making everything feel pressed down and low, condensing the world to make it feel almost suffocating. Snow soft as it descended. Maybe it was just you, sensitive to the weather and things around you in your anxiety as you turned down the street Joel’s house was nestled on. Just as you turned the corner, feet scuffing on the weathered gravel packed down to create solid paths in the broken asphalt you collided with something hard and lost your balance. The built up snow making it hard to catch yourself.

The scrunch of paper you had wrapped the gift in was loud, ripping at the drag of thick fabric that made up someone’s coat. The index cards fly up into the air as you landed heavily on your side. Through the sounds of the fluttering paper, there was a gasp pitched high that gave way to delirious giggles and a grunt pitched low. Your own indignant noise floating amidst it all, the pull of your stitches uncomfortable.

“My apologies, didn’t see you the- Olive?”

You had run into Joel’s broad back, his front now facing you as the cards rained down to scatter all over the corner. Snow dampening them instantly upon contact, blurring the ink you had taken the time to put down to them.

Behind him was a bright-eyed Marsha, her hands holding tight to one of his. She looked flushed, no doubt from the drinks she had indulged in, leaning heavily into him. And Joel…he looked shocked as he stared down at your fallen form. Either unaware or uncaring of how the woman he was with tried to burrow into his side.

They had been the ones whose voices you heard. But what had they been doing just standing still in the middle of the street….and then it hit you. They had probably been kissing or sharing in casual touches as they walked back from the bar to one of their homes for the evening and your stomach lurched, dropping out from under you.

Joel detached from her, intending to reach down and help you back up. But you didn’t want him touching you with the same hands that had been soft just an hour ago, the same hands that had been touching her with the same intent.

“Don’t!”

“Just tryin’ to help you up,” He backed off immediately, his eyes alert, not used to you raising your voice nor the heat behind your tone. Especially toward him, the hurt making you unable to tamp it down to a polite tone. Tears burned behind your own eyes, in your throat. The perfect match to your insides feeling like they have just been set in a mixer.

“Don’t need your help,” You pushed up from the ground, legs tingling as you fought the urge to run from the awkward and tense scene. And then you realized you could. You did.

Leaving the two alone in the middle of the street, surrounded by white spots of paper all around, the wrapping that had been around them crumpled on the ground. The dried olive leaves that had been fastened to it with twine lay abandoned at their feet.

You ran all the way back to your house, the front door slamming behind you and the lock loud in the silence that followed. Your back thumped against the wood of it, sliding down until your bottom hit the floor.

And you let yourself break down, crying into your hands. Hating how you had begun to believe that your life was going to change, that Joel was going to be something good in your life. And deep down, underneath all the hurt and anger, you still believed he was. Even if he wasn’t meant to be anything other than a patrol partner.

previous chapter || next chapter

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

taglist: @merz-8 @morning-star-joy @joelsgreys @orcasoul @sawymredfox @sabmat @dreamingofleon @keylimebeag @pascalpvnk @picassopedro @tuquoquebrute @alejaa-a @jessthebaker @littlemisspascal @joeloverture @joelscruff @swiftispunk @tightjeansjavi @undercoverpena @idontknowyou-12345 @corazondebeskar @honeyedmiller @novas-dreamworld @slugz-writes-shit @fluff-lover @hiroikegawa @dugiioh @persephone-girl @furiousmushroom @communism-bitches @formulafun @copperhalfcent @lizlil @hiddenbabynyc @ohhellotherebumblebee

[euno11a]

yeah, so y’all know that scene from SIX when Joe and his wife go to the fertility clinic and he has to give a sperm sample but can’t get hard and his wife helps him?? Yea? Well imagine that, but imagine you’re getting the scan, and you’re scared of the long stick that goes in you - but lovely Price is there to make his girl nice and calm 🥰 I’m a whore for price

you and price had been planning on starting a family soon. He was wanting to retire and that meant he could relax at home with you and fill you up with his seed until you were pregnant. But to be safe, the two of you wanted to go and get checked to make sure everything was good and there wouldn’t be any problems conceiving. Price was told to go and get a sperm sample of himself, while you were told to get an ultrasound to make sure your uterus was functioning properly to hold a baby.

now, yes, you would’ve been fine doing this yourself! But holy fuck, WHEN DID THE THING GET SO LONG? You flat out refused to have that go in you (and it wasn’t helping that the doctor was being a lil bitchy towards you), you just did not feel comfortable having the scan. So there you were, sat in the private room, feeling tears burn your eyes as you felt stupid for being scared. You wiped at your tears, jumping when you heard a gentle knock on the door. “You in there, doll?” You heard your husband’s voice from the other side of the door. Wiping your tears quickly, you answered. “Yeah, I’m..I’m in ‘ere.” He opened the door and quickly closed it behind him, seeing the glossiness of your eyes. He grabbed the chair and sat beside you, grabbing your hand to calm you.

“Want to tell me why yer cryin’ love?” He asked softly, running a hand through your hair. The pink went to your cheeks when he asked, adding to the embarrassment you felt. “S’ stupid…the ultrasound thing is really long and the doctor wasn’t being very patient and- and…I got scared…” you spoke defeatedly. Your husband paused, standing up from the chair and standing between the leg propers, placing his hands on your knees. “It’s too big, yeah? Scared my poor girl.” His voice was low, the voice that always made your knees go weak and wobbly. Whimpering quietly, you nodded, “M’sorry…I don’t usually have any issues. I don’t know why-” he cut you off.

“Love, there’s no need to apologize. Y’just need to be taken cared of, hm?” His big hands slowly pushed the gown up to expose your heat to him. He slipped his hands between your legs and gently played with your clit. He circled his fingers around it, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you whine. “Shh, quiet, doll. Can’t let the doctors hear you now, can we?” He teased, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks as his fingers worked at your swollen bud. Once you were ready, he slipped in two finger. The stretch made you almost cry out, gripping onto his bicep to stabilize yourself. “J-…John….can’t…” you whined as your head fell back. He grinned and pressed his lips to yours, “S’alright, love. Cum f’me.”

his fingers pumped in and out of you, bringing you to the peak of your orgasm. He didn’t stop until you were satisfied and resting limply in the examination chair. He grabbed some tissue and wiped you up, cleaning away the evidence of what you’d done, sitting beside you in the chair again. The doctor returned about ten minutes later, sitting in her stool, asking if you were ready to try again. When you nodded, you got a reassuring squeeze on the hand from Price. When the tool was brought out again, you squeezed his hand and looked at him, he leaned closer to you, pressing kisses against your temple. “You’re doin so well, doll. Look at ye, takin it so good.” He whispered praise in your ear to make it easier as well. The examination was done quickly, leaving you to get dressed again, as you walked out, price leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. “Let’s go home now, yeah? Gotta show my good girl how well she did. See if she can take somethin’ even bigger.”

[taurussbabe]

Heyyy i saw ur taking request for the song related fics and i have to say the 2 fics u wrote were absolutely amazing!!!

Can u write smth related to the song 'all of the girls you loved before' by taylor swift

Or

'Pretty please' by dua lipa

All of the girls you loved before

a/n: Thank you so much for this request, absolutely loved it. Hope you like it anon!! word count: 1.1k

Cryin' in the bathroom for some dude Whose name I cannot remember now (ooh) Secret jokes all alone No one's home, sixteen and wild (ooh)

            You and charles have been friends ever since you were kids, your parents were friends with his parents since they were in school, and eventually, that lead to you always being raised close with each other. You were together through everything, when his dad passed and when Jules and Anthoine died. He was always there for you too, no matter how busy his schedule was, so much, your parents started to wonder if there was something else going on between the two of you. You were fifteen and had a crush on a boy in your school, you thought he liked you too, that was until you saw him kiss another girl at some random party, of course, your fifteen-year-old self took it pretty hard, immediately leaving the scene and running towards the closest bathroom and letting the tears fall. What you didn’t know at the time was that charles had witnessed the whole scene and also ran towards the bathroom, storming in, not caring if it was the ladies room, immediately embracing you, holding you tight, brushing your hair out of your face, kissing your head and whispering into your ear, reminding you how everything was gonna be ok, and how he would always be there for you.

A few months later, you found yourself turning sixteen, charles right there by your side as you blown the candles, making secret jokes the whole time. The name of the boy who made you cry in that bathroom, long forgotten by now, the only person in your mind being the Monegasque by your side.

Your past and mine are parallel lines

Stars all aligned and they intertwined

And taught you

The way you call me, "Baby"

Treat me like a lady

            “Y/n, can you come here?” you heard him calling you from the living room, making you leave the room who were in to go to him.

“Yes, baby” you made your way to the couch, straddling charles as his hands found his way to your waist.

“God, I love when you call me baby.”

“Yeah?” you ask kissing his cheek and neck, him only humming as a response. “Why did you call me?”

“I wanted to make you a snack, what do you want to eat?”

“Really? You called me here just to see what I wanted to eat?”

“Yeah, why? Did I do something wrong?” his face expressions changing, but you quickly put your hands on both sides of his face.

“No, no, you didn’t. You just caught me by surprise, that’s all, you don’t need to make me anything.”

“No, but I want to, you deserve it.”

“Thank you, mon ange” you hug him tight, kissing his chest, his arm wrapping around your waist, keeping you close to him.

Every dead-end street

Led you straight to me

Now you're all I need

I'm so thankful for

All of the girls you loved before

But I love you more

            “I miss you” you heard on the other side of the line, making a soft smile creep its way onto your face.

“I miss you too, you know that, but you win this race, and you might get a reward when you get home.” You heard his chuckle through the phone and hear a mechanic calling him, letting you know your time with him was over. “Good luck, champ, I love you.”

“I love you too, mon ange.” Was the last thing that you heard and then he hung up.

“Y/n?” you heard from behind you, making you turn around “Y/n Y/l/n?”

“Charlotte? Hi, how are you?” you greeted the girl in front of you, silently hoping charles’ name wouldn’t come up, considering she was his ex-girlfriend.

“I’m good. How are you? I heard you and charles are dating now” ‘and she went there’ you thought.

“Hm, yeah, I’m good” you said, not knowing what else to say.

“It’s fine Y/n, really, I kind of always knew he had a thing for you, besides we just weren’t good for each other, I’m glad you’re both happy”

“Thanks, really, it was good to see you.” You said your goodbyes and headed home so you could watch charles’ race.

.

“Mon amour, I’m home” You were in the bedroom, and as soon as you heard him you sprinted down the hallway, launching yourself into his arms, making both of you loose balance, causing you to fall on the couch, charles on top of you. “Woah, are you okay?” he asked as he carefully placed a kiss on your lips.

“I’m so freaking proud of you, you did it, charles, what a fucking brilliant race” you kissed him passionately, making him moan into the kiss.

“Thank you, I think I did good.”

“You thought you did good? You did amazingly, you did perfect, I’m so proud of you I can’t put it into words. Hard work always pays off, and you’re living proof of it. I love you so so much, my love.” You said looking into his eyes.

You stayed like that for a while, looking so deep into each other’s eyes you could almost look into each other’s soul, until charles lifted you up and carried you to the bedroom, kissing you during the entire time of the walk. He dropped you on the bed and kissed you one last time before going to take a shower and put on some more comfortable clothes.

“You know who I saw today?” you asked charles, who was still getting ready in the bathroom. “Charlotte.”

“Oh yeah? Did you talk?”

“Yeah, she said she knew that we were together, and she was happy for us, because she always thought you had a thing for me.”

“Oh well, she’s right, I did always have a thing for you, ever since we were like twelve” he said in the simplest way, as if he hadn’t just admitted he liked you since you were little.

“Wait, what? You dated her when you were seventeen.”

“Yeah, but just because you were dating that douchebag.” He walked out of the bathroom, coming to sit next to you, holding onto you has you brushed his still wet curls.

“Well, I’m thankful for everyone we dated before, it lead us to here, and I couldn’t be happier to be here” you stated while his finger drew soft patterns on your skin.

“Me too, mon ange, I’m really happy that we’re here”

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Crying at Death’s Door: Bo Sinclair x afab!reader

18+

Warnings: allusions to an abusive Bo, asking about dying, bondage,crying, Bo calls reader a dog (yes a dog and not a bitch), afab reader, no pronouns used.

A/N: I literally watched like 6 minutes before this scene and then the scene itself and I’ve watched this scene so many fucking times it’s not even funny. This is only lightly based on the scene. Movie is Dead Ringers it’s free on Tubi and I guess the shows coming out April 21st too (this time lesbians). Also me using “kneels properly” if your Catholic you know

Masterlist

You whine softly and wiggle your arms. They’re spread and tied across the metal footboard. You don’t know how long you’ve been like this. All you know is that prior to this you were in the basement under the gas station, then you’d been moved to a small doctors office in the house, and lastly to what you assume is Bo’s bedroom.

You didn’t bother to try to escape any of your situations, you’d given up on that a week into your kidnapping, there wasn’t a point when you had no contact with any of your family and your friends were all dead, you just had to wait for your death.

You assumed it would be soon, Bo used your body already and took so many pictures of you, hanging them in that dingy room. You’d seen all of the girls and recognized some when you had went into the wax museum that day. You know your friends are in there and god you’d do anything to be with them, especially with this growing anxiety of not knowing when Bo would pull the plug on your life.

The front door opens and you perk up, recognizing Bo’s footsteps immediately. Your arms tingle as you wiggle a bit more wanting to run to the man. The foot steps fade and you assume he’s going to the basement, which was Vincent’s work area. You put two and two together that that’s where the floor door had led to when you decided to look around when you were strapped to the medical bed in their father’s office.

Minutes later Bo is back on the main floor, you hear the sink go off, and the slam of the microwave. It hums then beeps a few minutes later.

Bo’s footsteps start up again and this time get louder and louder as he ascends the stairs.

The bedroom door opens and Bo can be seen on the other side holding water and a microwaveable pasta. You look tiredly up at him.

“You been good baby?” He asks, walking into the room and sitting in between your spread legs. You nod at his question, thinking you have been.

“Nice to know you like tellin’ the truth to me now. Asked Vincent if you’d been cryin’ or tryin’ to escape, said he couldn’t hear a thing from you. You’re so good. Such a good baby.” Bo coos and brushed his thumb across your face. You smile lazily and lean into his touch. “Made you a little snack.”

Snack? This has been lunch and dinner for months for you. Those stupid microwaveable meals, now he’s saying they’re a snack?

“Dinner ain’t until late.”

Bo takes the water and tilts it into your mouth, you drink until half of it is gone, not wasting a single drop and for once Bo isn’t trying to make you fuck up.

He takes the pasta and stabs some noodles with the fork, bringing it to your mouth you bite the noodles off of it. A snack. A little treat before dinner. What the hell was dinner gonna be then?

“Doin’ so good.”

Your heart flutters at his praise. God it’s done that since you first met him. Even when he had you in the basement he could fuck you up and his sweet talking would change your mind completely about him. Bo Sinclair had you wrapped around his finger since you two laid eyes on each other.

You finish the meal and Bo let’s you drink the rest of the water. He gets up and leaves only to be back a minute later with a refilled water he sets on one side of the bed.

“H-“ You let out a small noise when Bo walks in. He raises a brow and starts getting undressed, most likely to get into comfortable clothes.

“You can talk, what is it?”

“Hhow was your day?” Your voice cracks between speaking and a whisper.

“Was alright.”

You stare at him in only his boxers. You’d never seen him with little clothes on, he always had his shirt and pants on even if it was just a little when he fucked you. He finally takes his boxers off and walks over, kneeling and scooting forward setting you onto his lap. He touches your tied arms and smiles. Then Bo looks into your eyes and leans in kissing your lips softly, feeling up and down your thighs. You wiggle wanting to touch him. You never got used to being tied up, always begging to touch him, just for a second with your hands. Just to hold his face.

Bo moved his lips down your jaw and kisses your clothed shoulder, he unbuttons one then two buttons on the shirt and kisses your chest.

“Just waitin’ for me ta come back? Makin’ sure you were so good when I was gone. Such a good dog.”

You moan at the pet name and shift in his lap trying to get Bo’s cock to touch your clit. Bo kisses your lips again and moves his hand in between your legs. You don’t wear underwear, haven’t worn any since he tore them off in the basement. He has easier access to your cunt that way. He told you himself.

His middle and ring finger slide between your folds, only just brushing your clit, then dipping into your pussy.

Your mouth opens, you cry out and Bo smirks touching at your g-spot over and over again. He kisses your cheeks and bites your ear lobe.

“Been so good to me baby. You don’t fight me or nothin’ ain’t fought me since you got into that chair. You want me that much huh?”

Bo’s hand gets rougher and he puts more pressure into you.

“Yeah! Yeah Bo I-ah I- do!” Your back arches against the metal frame, it hurts but Bo’s fingers feel too good for you to care.

“I like hearin’ those noises, keep goin’.” Bo sucks on your neck. You whine, rolling your eyes up. You feel a tightness in your core.

“Please, Bo I’m gonna cum. Please let me cum. Please keep going!”

He quickens his pace and you squirm, squirting into Bo’s hand. You cry out vision turning white, your body trembles as he rides you though your high.

“Messy ass dog.” Bo says, before dropping you on his lap and licking the palm of his hand to his fingers, then sucking on them. You watch in a haze, smiling lazily, too out of it to feel flustered.

“You like cumming on my fingers?”

You nod frantically.

“What about my cock?” Bo teases, you nod again. “Say it then.”

Embarrassment unravels, your mouth opens, closes then opens again.

“Go on. Been so good, say it or you won’t get it.”

“I-I like cumming on your cock Bo.”

You can’t even cover your face to try and hide. Doesn’t matter anyways cause when you try and turn your head away away Bo grabs your face and tuts at you. “Say it again, bein’ truthful aren’t we? You’d admit it to me twice wouldn’t you?”

“Yes..” Your hips wiggle , trying to adjust yourself on Bo’s lap. You were getting worked up again.

“Then say it, no stuttering either.”

“I like cumming on your cock Bo. I like when you cum in me too.” Your eyes read desperate. He hums in approval and kisses your forehead.

“Good dog.”

Bo kneels properly, your ass slowly slides off of him but he holds you up, he holds his cock with his other hand and slowly slides into you, stretching you out. You moan into his shoulder.

“So tight for me.” Bo mumbles. He pulls out and pushes back in a few times, just sitting there for a some seconds each to get used to the stretch. Then he fucks into you somewhere between a slow and fast pace. Kissing you roughly. The bed creaks, especially the bars that you’re tied to, as you bang into them. Bo wraps his arm around your waist, and uses his other hand to hold onto the footboard.

You wanna grab Bo and hold him so badly. You let out soft cries, but hope Bo just mistakes them for you moaning. He seems to as his pace never stops.

“You like being like this? Always tied up for me? Like me being in control?” Bo grunts, you nod and kiss his shoulder and you his neck, stopping at his jaw.

“Yes, yes I do! I love being ready to be used. I love when you take control of my body and I don’t have to think.” You babble, Bo’s hold on you tightens.

“Always know what to say. You’re so good at not thinking. You’re a good dog.” Bo’s hand goes to move the hair from your face and kiss all over it. You mewl, your cunt tightening around his cock.

His thumb hooks into your mouth, it opens without hesitation and he spits in it. You pant and wait for him to close your mouth but he spits again. Then closes it. You wait again as he pounds into you. “Swallow.” And you do. You roll your hips into him and whine, your pussy pulsates.

“Gonna cum? Tell me.”

Your back arches. More loud loans come from your chest.

“Yeah, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum on your cock!” Your mouth hangs open, you let the moans escape you as Bo thrusts faster into you.

“Come on, cum on my cock.”

He thrusts a couple of more times and again, your eyes roll back and vision flashes white. You let out a loud squeal, your body shaking. He fucks you through your orgasm.

“Want me to cum in you?” Bo asks, you nod lazily. He keeps at his pace, your body shakes at the overstimulation, he cums in your cunt, groaning into your shoulder.

Bo kisses your cheek and unties both of your arms. He kisses your wrists softly, the marks still not as bad as his. Your arms are sore but regardless you wrap them around Bo. You kiss and hold his face, running your hands through his hair for the first time. You almost sob, in fact you do. How many more times would you get to touch him with your hands before he killed you?

Bo doesn’t say a thing as you cry, only softly shushing you. He hates crying, shit stresses him out and almost, almost pisses him off. He thinks it’s about sex. “You did so good for me.”

You nod into him and he shushes you more.

You finally calm down and lean against the footboard. “So how much longer do I have?” You ask, your eyes puffy and red.

Your lip trembled but you try and keep your composure, regardless of the anxiety swimming laps in your stomach.

“What do ya mean?” Bo’s brows furrow.

You reword your statement. “When are you going to kill me?” You look into his beautiful blue eyes. Something of anger shows in them before disappearing. Instead it returns in his voice.

“You tryin’ to leave me or somethin’?” Bo sounds accusatory. You ignore it.

“No, I just notice a pattern. You tie all of your victims in that chair, you take pictures of them as a trophy and kill them. I don’t wanna go anywhere but if I am going somewhere I’d like to at least know when.”

Bo sneers. “Ya ain’t gettin’ that same treatment. You told me you’ve been good and proven that to me. You ain’t goin’ no where. You’re mine.”

You suck in some air and smile. “Okay, that’s all I wanted to know.”

Bo kisses your nose and wraps his arms under your ass before standing and setting you onto his soft bed. “I got you some clothes and I’m makin’ dinner for us later.” Bo explains. He slides in next to you and and shuffle so you’re under the blanket and cuddled into Bo’s side. “I don’t want you ever thinkin’ I’m gonna kill you. I would’ve done it already if I wanted you gone.”

You nod into his chest and close your eyes drifting into a small nap.

[bartxnhood]

right here | r.k

gif not mine

| robby keene × reader

summary: after a night of celebration and a run in with the cobras, you were left frightened. you count on robby for help.

warnings: blood, swearing, broken bones, poorly written fight scenes.

a/n happy s5 of cobra kai !! loving robbys character this season. this will have spoilers so please read with caution !! also, you'd think that taking karate lessons years ago would help me when i write fighting scenes but it doesn't. so please don't judge me:(

spoilers below cut.

Copyright © 2022 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

the party had finally ended, hours of celebrating your victory of getting into the world's biggest karate tournament. you barely had any drinks, not one to participate in underage drinking. not really up your alley. plus, with the recent events of the rivalry, a small fight broken out.

robby had offered to take you home but you had got a text from a friend saying they wanted to hang out after the party. “are you sure? i really don’t care to take you home” he assured. you smiled, “i appreciate the offer but hannah texted, she wants to meet up” he raised his eyebrows but nodded, “alright, i’ll see you tomorrow. and text me when you get home” you laughed, giving him a quick kiss. “you got it”.

the location where your friend wanted to meet wasn’t far, so you decided to walk it. only to realize it was a complete setup.

“well, if it isn’t robby’s little pet, all alone, walking home?” you looked up from your phone, seeing them trickle in front of them and you looked over your shoulder, seeing more emerge from the darkness. slowly, you shoved your phone into your bag. “listen, i’d really like to go home. it’s late” your voice was soft, trying to be civil. it was close to midnight, you were tired and you promised robby you wouldn’t mess with them if he wasn’t there.

devon laughed, “after what you guys pulled today? no. you’ll pay for this, little miss” two pairs of arms grabbed yours, pinning you in place. “no, please!” you begged, then felt a kick to your gut.

each punch and kick after that only riled you up. finally using your strength and getting out of the hold, putting the two other cobras on the floor.

your instincts were haywire. you managed to block almost every kick and punch from devon and another from someone on your left. leaving your right side open for an attack.

instantly you felt the worst pain coming from your leg, one cobra twisted your ankle causing your leg to give out. at this point you already had a bloody nose, eyes watering and it was getting harder to focus.

you knew you were a good fighter, but against this many people? you were well aware you’d be defeated. with one last blow to your diaphragm, you were knocked back on the concrete gasping for air.

your arm reached out, trying to grab your phone. still attempting to catch your breath. in a split second, an unbearable weight came crashing on your hand, and a scream escaped your lungs. “i don’t think so, doll” tears began to fall as you shut your eyes. “next time your little group pulls something like this, you won’t leave so easily.” kennys foot was now against your throat, choking you. finally, the pressure was lifted and you coughed for air.

you didn’t stay down for long, quickly grabbing your phone and calling the one person who knew would help you.

you sat at the curb, holding your wrist staring at the deep blues and black forming on your hand. you knew it was broken, you couldn’t move it. tears fell down your nose and onto your shirt.

“y/n?!” you heard a panicked robby. looking up his eyes met with yours. his expression fell, and quickly rant by your side. “what the fuck happened?!” he examined your hand and then your face, his hands delicately held your chin. “the..cobras” you croaked. throat sore from being choked.

your eyes were red and puffy from the constant crying of feeling so scared and being in so much pain. he was gentle, taking you into his embrace. “i tried. i was so scared” you cried into his chest. “shh” he kissed the top of your head. “it’s okay, you’ll be alright. no one can hurt you now”

“can you walk?” you shook your head, using your non-injured hand to wipe your tears. “they got me pretty good.” he nodded. ever so gently he took your body into his arms, carrying you bridal style, back to sams car.

robby decided to let you stay at his place, well actually johnnys but he knew his dad wouldn’t say anything. especially now that he’s turning over a new leaf. “thank you sam” he hummed, keeping an eye on you. the bruises and welts were forming pretty fast, which only fueled his anger. “they’re not going to get away with this.” he started, “so help me if i see them-“

“robby” you cut him off, pleading eyes. he got the memo. “sorry” he cleared his throat. but it didn’t help the anger he felt inside, his chest was burning and his hands still balled in a fist.

soon enough the three of you pulled up to the apartment complex, robby carried you and sam helped with the doors. he carefully made his way through the hallway and into his room, gently placing you on the mattress. “can you get some ice? there’s some pack in the freezer” sam nodded and left the room.

“robby, i’m sorry, i didn’t know who else to call” you rested your head against the wall. he fell by your side, shaking his head.

“don’t you dare apologize for something you didn’t do. i’m your boyfriend, y/n. it’s my job to be here for you” he tried to smile, but the aight of seeing you so beat up killed him. he should’ve been there with you and known it was a setup. “i’m gonna get you some pain killers, yeah?” you nodded, letting him leave.

sam quickly came back in, a few ice packs in hand. “here” she hummed, you smiled and took the contents from her. hovering over your knuckles then slowly laying the ice down, you chewed on your bottom lip trying not to cry despite how badly it hurt. “thank you” you murmured.

“and thank you for picking me up. i know it’s late” she smiled, shaking her head.

“you know i’d do anything for you.” she looked down at her watch, “i’ve gotta head home now. but message me so i know you’re okay?” you nodded, she waved and saw herself out.

robby came back with a pill bottle, glass of water, and a wet wash rag. “this should help with the pain.” he handed you the cup and then opened the bottle and gave you some advil. you took the pills and a quick swig of water. “thank you, robby” you smiled tiredly.

he nodded, “it’s no problem. do you mind if i clean your leg?” he motioned down to your knee which has dried blood and small pieces of debris in the wound.“yeah..go ahead”.

to be honest, you were still in shock from what happened. you were thankful enough that robby is letting you stay, knowing your parents wouldn’t care if you came home or not.

robby tried his best being gentle, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. the girl he had loved the most in all his years, the one who was in his corner throughout everything. telling people he hadn’t changed or he’d come back around. you always supported him. even if it meant you got hurt as well.

it hurt, but your hand hurt worse. you could take robby to clean your knee.

“you should change” robbed said, wiping the blood on your scraped knee. “your clothes are all dirty and bloody” you were pulled from your fogged mind. “what..?” you looked at him. “you need to change. i’ll give you a pair of my shorts and shirt.” you shook your head, “robby it’s okay, really” he was quick to cut you off. “it wasn’t a request, but a demand.” you stared at him. “fine.” you shrugged, and proceeded to sit up, fighting off the pain your body felt.

“whoa, whoa. careful” he quickly put his hand on the small of your back. “i’ll grab you some clothes” he hurried over to his drawers, picking out a black shirt and shorts. “i can step out if you want me to” you nodded, “thanks” he smiled, “i’ll be right outside the door”

you managed to get the jean shorts off with your good hand and slipped the basketball shorts on. now the tricky part was getting your shirt off. wasn’t necessarily easy with a broken hand. you sighed, feeling frustrated. you called out, “robby?”

the door opened, confused as to why you were still in hood top. “everything okay?” you shook your head, “can you help me with my shirt?” he nodded, “sure”

he carefully helped you get your shirt off that had plenty of minor cuts in the fabric. this was the first time you had been this vulnerable around him. also being the first time he had seen you almost

robby pressed light kisses on your shoulder,” i’m sorry i wasn’t there for you.” his eyes roamed your back and your rib cage, seeing the bruises now forming. it pained him that this happened, and he knew that the next time he saw anyone from cobra kai, they’d pay for it. no one touches you.

you wanted to cry, but you tried your best to hold it together while slipping the black t-shirt over your head. “i should’ve stayed back. this wouldn’t have happened if i was just being cautious.” he helped you bag down on the bed. “it isn’t your fault, remember that. i promise no one will ever touch you again. okay?”

“i love you robby.” you sighed, and a smile formed on his face. “i love you too. i’ll give you some space, i’ll sleep on the sofa tonight. and i’ll wrap your hand in the morning, is that okay?”

you nodded, but suddenly the thought of being alone terrified you.

“robby?”

“hm?”

“please stay.”

he stopped in the doorway, eventually coming back and closing the door behind him. “okay” he hummed and crawled into the bed next to you. “i really don’t want to be alone.” you moved closer to him, resting your head on his chest.

“you’ll never be alone again. i’ll always be here.”

[pinkerthings]

the importance of mike and will simply getting each other (pt 2):

part one here !

I’ve covered the significance of Mileven simply not understanding each other, & now it’s time to talk about their counterpart !

(specifying that nothing in these posts is new or groundbreaking, I’m just covering multiple topics and gathering info in one place !)

season 1:

Episode one begins with the party playing a d&d campaign:

When Mike goes upstairs to talk to his mom, Will discovers he’d rolled a seven, meaning the monster got him in the game. Dustin and Lucas say “Did Mike see it?” to which Will shakes his head no. “Then it doesn’t count!” Lucas replies as they scramble to leave the house.

Dustin and Lucas leave and Mike stands next to Will in the garage. After a moment of quiet, Will tells Mike,

“It was a seven. The roll. It was a seven. The demogorgon, it got me.”

To which Mike responds with:

nothing.

This scene is the first scene we get with Mine and Will alone in the whole show. This scene sets up the entirety of their relationship, telling the audience right off the bat,

“Hey! These two boys are best friends, and they don’t lie to each other!”

First impressions are always important in media, and next we get El and Mike’s first scenes together.

Remember, Mike only found El because he was out with Dustin and Lucas looking for Will.

Now, Mike is sweet to El that first night and next day. But keep in mind that the only reason El spent that first night in Mike’s basement was because Mike didn’t want to get in trouble by his mom, because he had been out looking for Will, something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

Dustin says, “I think we should tell your mom,” and Lucas agrees. Mike responds with, “Who’s crazy now?”

Lucas: “How is that crazy?”

Mike: “Because we weren’t supposed to be out tonight, remember?”

Mike makes the plan to have El sleep there for the night, then go around to the front door in the morning so Karen will know what to do with her. Mike wants her to leave in the morning so they can go back to looking for Will.

Remember, the only reason she stayed the night was so the boys didn’t get in trouble for looking for Will.

Mike keeps Eleven around 1. because “bad men” are after her, and Mike does care for her and her safety, and 2. Mike has a feeling Will is alive and El knows how to find him.

They don’t have many interactions in season 1 due to Will being in the upside down, but they reunite at the end of the season and everything is (seemingly) back to normal.

season 2:

Everyone knows season two is byler’s season ! El is living with Hopper, unbeknownst to the boys, and Mike and Will are as close as ever.

Episode 1: The party goes to Palace Arcade and plays Dig Dug. In the midst of this, Will gets a weird feeling and suddenly sees the upside down.

He walks outside slowly and sees the Mind Flayer, followed by one person and one person only: his best friend.

(can’t ss netflix but mike comes out and asks will if he’s okay)

Mike is the only one out of the other three to notice Will is gone and follow him out. He puts his arm around Will and walks him back inside to play Dig Dug.

Later on in episode one, Joyce picks Will up early from school for his appointment with Dr. Owens,

and the camera zooms into Mike and Mike only, saying,

All three boys notice something is off, but Mike is the first to say something about it.

This whole season is meant to showcase the special friendship Mike and Will have. They know each other the best and even the rest of the party knows that.

Episode 2: This episode is an important one. Max joins the party while trick-or-treating and Mike is not on board with the idea.

(sorry for the terrible grimy photos im taking these pics from another screen)

I've noticed when the party split off into groups, it's almost always Mike & Will, Dustin & Lucas, or Lucas & Max. Mike and Will are glued to each other's hip most of the time.

(these photos are so bad im cryin im sorry)

Mike is upset that Will allowed for Max to join them while trick-or-treating, and when Mike hurries ahead of Will, Will almost seems disappointed in himself for disappointing Mike, staring after him like Mike caught him committing atrocities and he feels guilty. lmao poor will, he just wants to make mike happy !

A moment later we have bullies push Will to the ground, resulting in him seeing the upside down & Mind Flayer again, calling for Mike and running to safety.

When Mike finally reaches Will, he exclaims, "Will! I couldn't find you, are you hurt?" indicating that the moment Mike turned around and didn't see Will behind him, he sensed something was off and went looking for him, just like at Palace Arcade.

While the others chase down the stairs, either cussing or verbally confused, Mike is the only one at Will's side asking him if he's okay.

He helps Will up and puts an arm around him again, just like at palace Arcade, and takes him ho--- oh, you thought I was gonna say home? To Will's house? Nope! Mike says he's going to take Will home, and takes him to the Wheeler's basement.

Ladies and gentlemen, how could I make a byler post without including the infamous crazy together scene !?

We have Mike and Will sitting on the couch in the Wheeler's basement, and Will is telling him all about these "visions" he's been having.

He begins describing,

but stops, not knowing how to finish his sentence. But no worries, Mike finishes it for him!

Will then begs Mike to keep it a secret.

Why won't the others understand? Did the other party member not already see a demogorgon? Do they not already know what the upside down is? Will just wants to have something special--a secret only he and Mike know. He knows the others would understand, but doesn't think they'd be of any help. Unlike Mike, whom he trusts completely.

anyways that's all the photos i can fit here so I will cover the rest of s2, 3, & 4 in my next post. byeeee!!!

part 3 here !