#I’m level 31 now

[nguyenfinity]

You can def call me Keki!! Congrats on the new obsession -🍰

Thank you but I do not think I should be congratulated (this is from today alone)

[cyarsk5230]

This could have been you black bloggers but you chose to slut out for a raggedy bald head who doesn’t give a fuck about you as much as you didn’t give a fuck about him because if you had you would’ve bullied him to offering apologies and if he gave a fuck about you he would have apologize or better yet don’t shoot at people especially while he’s on probation

Treat black meat sucking bloggers like the msm

To hell with them

Turn them off and never turn them back on again ever don’t even give them a second of your time

Fuck their ratings and views up

Go to sources that really matter like Meghan thee reporter

[soo0hee]

Fun Time

Pairing — Chwe Hansol x afab!Reader

Summary — Visiting your brother you met one of his member. To bad that you liked to have a little fun... Requested by @cyd0129 , i hope you like it!

Genre — fluff

Warnings — none

Word Count — 1.1k

Rating — sfw

A/N — @tusswrites & @svtiddiess thanks for brainstorming this with me <3

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

Visiting your brother at his job was always fun. Watching him turn simple melodies and beats into full fledged songs that would maybe, possibly, end up on an album of their group always gave you a sense of calmness that you rarely ever got to feel.

And while the Universe Factory was almost like a meeting point of Seventeen members, you had never gotten to meet every single one of them. It was funny almost but Woozi had always been a little mysterious when it came to his family, so neither you, nor the members who knew about you were surprised about their producer keeping this detail to himself.

And Woozi wanted to protect himself from the chaos that was doomed to happen if you and certain members of his were to ever meet eachother.

To protect his piece of mind, is what he told you once over dinner at your apartment. You had cackled at his serious expression but accepted his reasoning knowing that you indeed could be a little menace if you wanted to.

With your from your brother requester personal lanyard dangling from your neck and bubble tea in your hand you walked through the lobby of the Hybe Building. It surprised you how well recognition system worked as you remembered last times visit where you had needed almost 20 minutes and a staff members help to actually get inside.

Walking up to the elevator with your earbuds blasting music straight into your brain, you took out your phone to text your brother of your incoming arrival when you noticed the text he had send you a bit ago.

Universe Factory is empty. Am in Studio 7. Meet me there? – received 2:31 pm

For a moment your brain blanked just as the Elevator arrived with a Ding.

The Universe Factory you knew where to find, Studio 717 however you had no idea. It was a practice room, that much you knew, but when it came to the location, you were absolutely lost.

Maybe you should ask someone? One of the staffs? No, they had already stared like you had frown to heads when you walked in with your own Lanyard! There was no need for you to receive those stares a second time.

So you pressed the Button with the number 7, hoping that the first number of the studio was the indicator of the Level you had to go to.

The doors closed and you went up just to stop at the second floor.

A familiar face appeared behind the door. A face that you had seen a million times already on press pictures, photo shootings or the group selcas Woozi loved to send you every then and now.

A few that had yet to meet you however.

Vernon was one of those members that you were being hidden from, until now.

The hip hop team maknae only nodded in acknowledgement, eyes fixed on the lanyard to verify that you had the right to be there.

He pushed the button to the 9th floor.

“You going to the finance department?” Vernon asked smoothly in korean.

An idea struck you that couldn’t passed up.

Fanning confusion you stared back at him and answered in perfect English with, “I’m sorry, what?”

It took Vernon a second to make the switch in language before asking again if you were going to the finance department. This time in english.

“Uhm, no. I was actually searching for the Studios… I have an appointment there.” You said without feeling bad for lying, internally groaning that your hopes of your destination being on the 7th floor had been crushed just like that.

“The Studios are on the 8th floor.” Vernon answered, eyebrow raised in suspicion.

That one you knew. But-

“And the practice rooms? I need to be in 717 to meet someone.”

Now that made the Rapper curious. 717 was their Practice room! What was a stranger like doing in their practice room?!

Admittedly, a very beautiful stranger, but a stranger none the less.

“Uhmm, I could take you? It’s where I’m headed right now! But only if you tell me what kind of business you have there.” He offered. You could clearly hear the teasing tilt in his voice.

You played along.

“I’m a new choreographer. They called me to take a look at a choreography for what I’m guessing is your group if you are headed there. Preparation for a new comeback?”

The elevators door opened on the 7th floor.

Vernon swallowed. A new choreographer meant changes to the already existing choreo and he prayed that wasn’t the case.

The elevator closed.

He hummed quietly, agreeing with the last part.

“Yeah, I’m from Seventeen. Vernon.”

“Nice to meet you Vernon. I’m y/n. Pleased to meet you.” You grinned and bit your lip to prevent laughing out loud at the dumbfound face he made.

Vernon on the other hand had trouble to keep his composure. Something about the way you smiled at him and the accent of your English had his ears heat up.

Once the Elevator opened again, he almost fled out into the hallway while you slowly followed with a snicker hidden by your head over your mouth.

“This way please!”

The member od Seventeen were known to be a magnet for chaos and this was proven again when you could hear the loud screams of who you guessed would be Seokmin and Mingyu behind the closed door.

Vernon snorted at the sounds his members made inside. Reminding him of a seal at times like this.

Like a gentleman Vernon opened the door and let you inside. There were only a few members of the group, one being your brother and almost none of the staff.

“Did someone know that we have a new chorographer?” he yelled in korean towards the guys, thinking that you weren’t able to understand him like this.

It was comical how fast all heads whipped around to stare at him.

Woozi groaned upon seeing you standing behind Vernon while grinning like a cat.

The few members who had recognized you smiled in amusement.

“Aish! Lee y/n! Did you prank him? Vernon-ah, this isn’t a choreographer. She’s my sister.” The producer sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Ah Jihoon-ah, why rat me out so fast?” you complained with a whine.

Vernon, confused and a little dazed at the turn of events had to pick his jaw up from the floor. Stammering at you with a pout. Joshua patted his back while passing him.

“I see you have met y/n.”

“She- she’s not a-“

“All she is, is a brat!” Jihoon answered and slapped the back of your head gently with his bag slung over his shoulder, ready to leave.

“You’re no fun Jihoon-ah.” You called after him.

“Just come with me so we can get some food!” was the response echoing from the hallway.

You turned back to Vernon.

“It was nice to meet you, Vernon. I hope I’ll see you soon.”

With a wink and a flip of your hair you were out the door and gone.

The American slowly turned to Seokmin who didn’t bother holding back his laughter.

“And? What do you say?”

“Hyung…” the younger forced out star struck. “I think I’m in love…”

[monkey-wrench-series]

One month on; The future of Monkey wrench as a fully animated indie series.

It’s been exactly one month since Ep 3 of Monkey was released to the public, and as the ever want to be as transparent as possible with indie production it’s time we sat down and had a very important discussion on the future of the series…

So, as we said above, one month has passed from the public release of episode 3, and everything hinges on how well it does.

Below are the metrics for it on Youtube;

Our hope was to have ep 3 hit 500k in two weeks. After 31 days we’re still under 470k views, ad rev as you can see is pitiful and engagement has evaporated. Maybe we set our hopes a little too high?

It’s not all doom and gloom though, this is the first ep to get this many views in this amount of time. Our patreon support has grown by 1/3 after the ep came out and our Scratch & Scritch plushies did ok, see images below;

So as of now, we have enough money for voices, sound and music for episode 4. Voice recording begins next week and I hope to start the animatic for the ep sometime after.

As for the animation portion of production… things are looking a little tricky.

As you should know, animation, especially frame by frame stuff like we do, it’s obscenely time intensive and expensive. For ep 3 we had a rough animation rate of $20.83 per 1 second of animation and the same for clean up with very minimal edits and redos.

Seeing the recent animation pay discourse has honestly shaken us up pretty bad, we had no idea how pitiful our pay had been compared to other indies and we in no way want to exploit anyone for their work on the series.

With both Ash and I putting everything we had saved in Eps 1, 2 and 3 and seeing how below average they’ve all performed and with how little we can afford to pay our animators, on top of burning myself out horrifically doing 3 eps in a row, we’ve sadly had to come to the conclusion that full animation for this series is no longer financially possible at our current support level.

That does not mean we’re stopping production, however.

There are two possible routes we can take;

Route 1; Animatic hybrid.

Over the past week and a half I managed to solo out 5 minutes and 15 seconds of animatic keyframe animation for our recently released outtakes video.

At our current support level I can do the animatic keyframe route for most of the mundane stuff in an ep, and then go into full animation for the ‘good bits’, that way we can pay our animators an actual decent wage. Over time if our support grows we can return to full animation.

Route 2: Kickstart ep 4 for $100k

We have thought about doing a kickstarter type thing to get the $100,000 we’d need for the animation portion of the ep. We want to pay our animators properly for their time and skill and this would be the best route to go if we want to have ep 4 fully animated.

However with our current viewership and engagement with eps 1, 2 and 3 I’m not sure we could hit a goal of $100,000 in the 30 days we need.

Is it a risk worth taking?

What would we do for rewards?

Physical rewards would take money away from animation production and things like animated rewards would take time away from myself working on the ep.

That’s pretty much where my mind has been at the past few days. I’d love to hear your input and thoughts on how you would like us to proceed.

[bad268]

Freak (Franco Colapinto X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Day 31 of Writing Inktober prompts instead of drawing!

Warnings: kinda spicy at the end (sriracha level)

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 574

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

Writing Inktober 2024 Materlist

~~(^Pinterest)

“What is this?” Franco asked as soon he walked back into your shared apartment. You didn’t go to the last race weekend, and you were just about to fall asleep. You had no clue what he was talking about as you sat up in bed and rubbed your eyes.

“What’re you talking about, cariño (love)?” You yawned as you stretched your arms above your head and tried to wake up more. Your bleary eyes looked to where Franco was standing, and he had his phone pulled out. By the sounds of it, it was a TikTok video, but in your tired state, you couldn’t name it. 

“This video you made,” Franco responded, not looking away from the video nor showing you the video.

“I’m gonna need you to spell it out for me cuz I’m not following,” You sighed, not wanting to get out of the warm bed. Franco seemed to get the hint finally as he quickly changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and climbed into bed with you. You moved to rest your head against his chest and absentmindedly drew shaps across his chest. “Now, what are you asking?”

“This video,” He said, unlocking his phone and showing you a TikTok that you made a few days ago when you were bored. 

You were standing in your kitchen lip singing to the song and loosely dancing around with the text, “Is somebody gonna match my freak (drive me around, wear matching outfits, do face masks and bake with me)?” above your head. You chuckled lightly, hiding your face in Franco’s chest.

“Don’t go all shy on me now, cariño,” he teased as he tossed his phone off to the side to put his full attention on you. He moved his hand to your chin and pushed your head back so he could leave kisses around your face. You giggled and tried to push away from him, but that just led to him rolling the two of you over and caging you between his arms.

“You’re such a freak, Franco,” You chuckled as you put your hands on his cheeks to push him back. You kept him only a short distance away from your face, pulling him closer to only rest his forehead against yours. 

“But I match your freak, right?” He joked, turning his head as he gave you a side eye and a smirk, looking you up and down.

“You’ve always matched my freak,” You laughed, not believing you were having this conversation. “That video was directed at you!”

“Is that all I do to match your freak? I can think of quite a few other freaky things we do-”

“You’re done, Franco,” You cut him off, covering his mouth with your hand. “Not everyone needs to know what we do.”

“You say that like we’re being recorded right now,” Franco laughed before cutting himself off and looking around the room. “We’re not being recorded, right?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” You joked. 

“Then, there’s nothing stopping me from doing this,” He said before dropping his head to capture your lips in a heated kiss. After your makeout session, he narrowly pulled back, his lip still brushing against yours as he said, “I don’t know about you, but I really missed you this weekend.”

“I always miss you, cariño,” You replied back softly, running a hand through his hair before pulling him back down to meet your lips.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[wilwheaton]

the waiting game sucks

I was playing Assassin's Creed: Origins last night (61 hours in, level 31. Not sure how far I am into the story) and I tamed this hippo, because I thought it would be amusing to have a giant hippo waddling around with me. I named them Hungry Hungry the Hippo, because I am perfect.

I have this cool chain assassination skill, so I like to wait for Romans to ride by in a line, grab the one at the end and follow up with the one in the middle before any of them realize what's going on. More often than not, the one in the front keeps on going and doesn't notice his two buddies aren't with him.

(SIDEBAR: Unless you want to kill an entire village, don't poison the corpses. I'm real sorry about that, formerly-populated tiny village against the mountains.)

But last night, the guy in the front turned around and threw a spear at me ... which REALLY PISSED OFF Hungry Hungry the Hippo, who charged the guy, knocked him off his horse, and proceeded to murder the fuck out of him.

So I'm like, "Hungry Hungry the Hippo, you are such a good friend! Thanks for helping me fill the streets with the blood of my enemies. I'm going to set you free to celebrate!"

And that's when I discovered that Hungry Hungry the Hippo has two states: tamed and aggro. I was like, "Here you go," and she was like "THANK YOU NOW I WILL MURDER YOUR FACE TO DEATH!"

I want to tell you that I ran away and climbed up a tree or something, until she calmed down and went on her way. But we all know that wouldn't be true, and Bayek needed some hard leather to upgrade his armor, anyway.

So I thanked Hungry Hungry the Hippo for her service and sacrifice, looted the corpses, and went about my business.

Every villain is the hero of their own story.

[felassan]

New Dragon Age: The Veilguard Journal entry:

"Journal #9 Hans Zimmer & Lorne Balfe Co-Composers Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s Composers Announcement"

"Hey everyone! Today, we’re so happy to announce that two-time Oscar-winner Hans Zimmer and Grammy-winner Lorne Balfe have co-composed the Official Soundtrack (OST) for Dragon Age: The Veilguard, the new single-player fantasy RPG experience coming to PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X|S and PC via Steam, EA App, and Epic Games Store on October 31, 2024. The legendary composers have collaborated on dozens of projects throughout their careers and have worked closely with the development team at BioWare to create a score celebrating the world of Thedas and its heroes. Fans will be able to pre-order the Official Soundtrack album beginning October 18th on iTunes and Amazon Music, with the formal release to follow on November 1st via Lakeshore Records. Moreover, in celebration of the announcement, Dragon Age: The Veilguard Main Theme, has been released as the first single from the official soundtrack, and can be downloaded and streamed now on all major music services such as Spotify, iTunes, and more. “One of our goals with the music for Dragon Age: The Veilguard was to provide a strong anchor between the world of Thedas and the diverse characters that inhabit that world,” said Cody Behiel, Audio Director for Dragon Age: The Veilguard. “We wanted to ensure that throughout the game's story, whether at its most epic or its most intimate, players were able to feel their actions connect to the personal relationships they have been fostering. Working with Hans and Lorne took these ideas to greater emotional heights than we thought possible and I am so excited for players to experience it.” Oscar-winner Zimmer, one of the world’s most renowned composers, has won numerous awards and honors for his scores in such films as Dune, Dunkirk, Interstellar, Inception, and many more. With over 100 film scores to his credit, Dragon Age: The Veilguard is the first video game soundtrack composed by Zimmer in nearly 10 years. Speaking about his work on Dragon Age: The Veilguard, Hans Zimmer said, “Epic stories lend themselves to epic scores, and the narrative tapestry BioWare has woven in The Veilguard never left me wanting for inspiration, be it during the game’s moments of shining heroism or darkest emotional pitfalls. I’m proud to have shared the journey of creating the musical backdrop for the latest Dragon Age adventure with Lorne and the entire design team.” GRAMMY Award-winner Balfe has over 170 composer credits across movies, TV and games, including Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2, Assassin's Creed III, Assassin's Creed: Revelations, and Beyond: Two Souls, all of which received nominations for Best Original Music from the BAFTA Games Awards. “The world of Dragon Age is an unprecedented immersive experience, and never more so than in Dragon Age: The Veilguard,” said Lorne Balfe. “Crafting this score alongside Hans Zimmer has allowed us to bring an epic new majesty to the realm of Thedas, bringing these characters and their stories to the next level. I cannot wait for people to play this game.” Players can pre-order Dragon Age: The Veilguard now on PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X|S and PC. We still have a few more things to talk about before release, and we hope you enjoy our main theme in the meantime!             — The Dragon Age Team"

[source]

(emphasis mine)

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Birthday Blues (Thor)

Summary: you're feeling crappy and alone on your birthday.

Warnings: just a sad reader,but fluff otherwise, i think?

WC: 570ish

A/N: today is my birthday (I turned 31!) But i've just been feeling so miserable and lonely and sick all day so i wrote this instead of wallowing in self pity.

Read on Ao3!

--

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the city, but the light felt distant to you. Today was your birthday, a day that once brought you joy, but now it felt like a weight pressing down on your heart. You sat on your bed, surrounded by half-wrapped gifts and colorful decorations that seemed to mock your mood.

You stared at your phone, watching as friends sent their cheerful messages, but the words felt hollow. It was hard to celebrate when you felt so empty inside. You missed the laughter, the excitement, the feeling of being cherished. Instead, you found yourself wrapped in a heavy blanket of melancholy.

Just then, a soft knock echoed through your apartment. You didn’t move at first, unsure if you wanted company. But the door creaked open, and in walked Thor, his presence filling the room with warmth and light.

“Greetings, my friend!” he boomed, his bright smile instantly brightening the atmosphere. “I have come to celebrate with you on this most special day!”

You managed a small smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Thor. But I’m not really in the mood for a celebration.”

He frowned slightly, his brow furrowing with concern. “Nonsense! Every birthday deserves a celebration, even if it is just with one friend.” He stepped closer, his large frame towering over you as he knelt down to your level. “What troubles you?”

You sighed, looking away. “It’s just… I thought I’d feel different today. I thought I’d be happy, but I just feel… sad. Like I’m not where I’m supposed to be.”

Thor’s expression softened, and he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “It is understandable to feel this way. Birthdays can be bittersweet reminders of time passing and changes in our lives.” He paused, searching for the right words. “But know this: you are not alone. You have friends who care for you deeply.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you shook your head. “I know, but it feels like everyone is moving on with their lives, and I’m just… stuck.”

Thor’s eyes sparkled with compassion. “Sometimes, we all feel lost, even among friends. But remember, it is okay to feel this way. It does not define who you are or diminish your worth. You are strong, and your journey is unique to you.”

You met his gaze, feeling the warmth of his reassurance wrap around you like a comforting blanket. “I just wanted today to be special.”

He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Then let us make it special together! We shall feast, and I will share tales of my adventures. We can laugh, and I shall remind you of the beauty in the world.”

A genuine smile began to break through your sadness. “You really think we can turn this around?”

“Absolutely!” He stood, extending a hand to you. “Come! We shall summon a feast worthy of the gods!”

You took his hand, feeling the strength of his spirit seep into you. As you stood up, the weight on your heart began to lift, and you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe today could be different after all.

As you walked out of your room, Thor led the way, his laughter echoing through the halls. In that moment, you realized that even on your saddest days, friendship could shine a light, reminding you that you were never truly alone

[yourlocalasexuwhale288]

I just watched Hannibal for the first time and I have major feelings about it.

Like first of all, I went into this with the knowledge that Hannigram was a big ship. Like Destiel or Wolfstar levels of widely accepted. I didn’t realize how ACTUALLY canon this was. I was totally prepared for subtle scenes that hinted at romance. This show is a murder rom-com.

Hannibal loved Will, and he showed that the only way he knew how. And Will loved Hannibal, and he hated that he loved Hannibal. I love the dynamic of their love. It’s fascinating to watch.

Probably an unpopular opinion, but I don’t like Abigail. I feel like having her live was unnecessary and kind of ruined a lot for me. I feel that her plot points were minor and other things could fill her parts in the story. I found her largely unnecessary and I didn’t enjoy her character.

I do enjoy Margot and Alana. I found Alana vaguely annoying in earlier episodes, but loved her character arc towards the end. I do think that there’s a lot of hypocrisy about Hannibal and her relationship with Margot, especially because she knows that Margot killed Mason and was very manipulative of Will.

Overall, I loved this series. I honestly can’t believe it took me this long to watch it, but I am so pleased that I did. I’m now hyper fixated on Hannigram, and have read at least 500 of the fanfics on archiveofourown so far. 1000% recommend, and if you want a list of really good fanfics that made me bookmark them, let me know, cuz I have 31 book marked right now that are EXCEPTIONALLY GOOD

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 32: Promises

Joel adjusts to life in Jackson after his brush with death. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-31 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: References to canon-typical violence. Smut :). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 9.5k

A/N: Hi y'all. If you're still looking at this fic but have skipped the last few chapters because of spoilers, this is a pretty safe chapter to jump back in at. You do need to understand that Joel was nearly killed in an encounter with an unnamed person while on patrol and that someone was looking for him in particular to have the context for this chapter. If you have any questions, feel free to DM me.

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

December, 2027

“No.” 

“Baby…” 

“I said no, Joel.” 

You stalked off to another room and Joel could feel your frustration from where he sat on the couch. 

He sighed, debating whether or not to follow you or if he should stay where he was and let you cool off.

It wasn’t the first time the two of you had had this discussion over the last six weeks. 

Joel had made significant recovery since the incident in November. His leg had mostly healed, though he still walked with a slight limp. But he could breathe deeply without feeling the burning pain of broken ribs now. And the parts of him the doctors had to cut away so he would survive - part of his liver, part of his intestine, one of his kidneys - no longer constantly hurt to the point of occasional agony. Everything was tolerable now, if not necessarily what it was before. 

As a result, he was starting to go a little stir crazy. Admittedly, the doctors hadn’t cleared him for anything too strenuous - though he wondered how much of that was your doing versus theirs - but he wanted to start preparing to go back to the life he had in Jackson. One where he felt fulfilled, like he had his place in the community and a way to contribute. 

You, however, weren’t too happy with that plan. 

Joel sighed and got up from the couch, the muscle in his leg burning as he did. Things still hurt and pulled at first - and he was sure getting on a horse would be uncomfortable at best - but it would pass. Or he’d get used to it. 

Either way, he wasn’t content with continuing to sit in his house and rot. 

“Sweetheart,” he said, finding you in the kitchen. 

You closed the fridge door with too much force, making the jars of canned produce inside rattle. 

“No,” you said, adding milk to a cup of tea on the counter. “Find a place to sit, I don’t want you spilling hot tea all over yourself.” 

“I’m not a kid,” he said, a little defensive. “I know perfectly well what I’m capable of…” 

“No, you don’t,” you said, leveling him with a glare before returning the milk to the fridge and pointing to his spot at the table. “Now sit.” 

Joel squared his jaw for a moment before going for the kitchen table - trying to walk with as little a limp as he could manage even though it fucking hurt - and sitting down there. He took a deep breath as you got the mugs of tea and carried them to the table, setting one in front of him and the other in front of the seat he’d come to think of as yours. You settled in beside him, holding the mug with both hands, seemingly determined to not actually look at him. 

“We need to talk about it,” he said gently. 

“I’m not going to discuss you going out there to get yourself fucking killed, Joel,” you snapped. “I’m not doing it, I’m not going through that again. End of story.” 

Joel tried to remind himself that he wouldn’t feel any differently if he were in your position. He couldn’t blame you for it.

You’d been a mess when he woke up. It had just taken him a few minutes to really realize it. 

It was like you couldn’t get close enough to him once you were against him, clinging to him as you tried to not disturb him or put any weight on him. But once he got you settled, you fell asleep quickly. 

Joel, however, was wide awake. Part of him was afraid to go to sleep again. He didn’t want to not wake up, he wasn’t confident enough that he would. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious but it felt like he’d slept enough for a lifetime. 

So he just held onto you. He soaked up the feel of you in his arms, a sensation he thought he’d never have again. He tried to pick through the fog of his mind, remember what had happened before, but it felt so far away, nothing but a haze of blood and hurt before your voice was there. After a while, he left it alone. 

But you didn’t sleep the way you normally did. At first, you seemed stiff, like you were still conscious enough to be worried about hurting him. That didn’t last too long. Your whole body relaxed, as limp and pliant as you were when he’d just made you come again and again. But you almost never actually found rest that way. Even with Joel beside you, there was part of you that was always tense and ready to defend yourself. A byproduct, he was sure, of years of torment that could strike at any time. You only slept that way when you were at the point of total exhaustion, when your body physically couldn’t be on guard anymore. 

As much as he wanted to talk to you - ask you what happened, how you were feeling, how long he’d been like this - he wanted you to rest more. You needed it, your whole body desperate for it. So when his door opened just as the light in the room shifted to the pink and orange of dawn, his hold on you tightened ever so slightly. 

Carol, one of the doctors, didn’t even notice him watching her come in at first, nearly jumping out of her skin when she realized that his eyes were open. 

“Joel!” She yelped and you stirred ever so slightly against him. He held you tighter. 

“Shhh,” he hushed her before whispering, soft and low. “She needs her rest. Don’t think she’s had much of that lately.” 

“But…” 

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he said. “Let ‘er sleep. Can look me over in a bit.” 

She rolled her eyes but left all the same and he watched you, lost in you. You’d survived. He remembered being afraid that you wouldn’t but you had, and so had he. He trailed his fingers gently over your exposed skin, marveling at the softness of you, that you loved and trusted him enough to let your softness be this close. 

The sun was high when the door opened again, not easing open this time but flying, Ellie tearing into the room in a blur of wild hair and disheveled clothes. The door smacking into the wall made you wake with a jolt and he held you close as he felt that tension shock back into your limbs. 

“Joel!” Ellie barreled over to him and he couldn’t help but smile as she skidded to a stop at his bedside as you sat up. 

“Hey baby girl.” 

“You’re awake,” her voice was thick as she sat down near you at the edge of the bed. “Fuck, I didn’t…” 

“Are you OK?” He asked, trying to look her over. 

“I’m fine,” she waved him off. “You scared the shit out of me but I’m fine. The doc said I needed to get you to let her look you over? What the fuck, Joel?” 

“Joel!” You looked down at him, wide awake now, his head propped up on pillows. 

“You needed rest,” he shrugged. 

“You needed to be examined by a doctor!” You snapped, unfolding yourself from your place at his side. He tried to hold onto you but you leveled him with a glare. “After everything we did to get you here alive, don’t even start.” 

He tried very hard not to laugh. 

“Whatever you say, baby.” 

He seemed to frustrate you a lot after that. You talked to the doctors more than he did, never leaving his side and listening to everything they said with a hard look on your face. He tried to ask more about what happened to you - he remembered you bleeding and your face was still damaged but healing - but you changed the subject back to him immediately every time. 

Joel was ready for things to go back to normal as quickly as he could manage but you were nervous, hesitant. The first time you dared leave him at the clinic, something happened with a horse and Olivia came to get you. It was the third day he was awake and you were gone long enough that he was able to get out of bed and try to walk on his own. He didn’t make it very far, all but falling into a chair near the door after using the wall to haphazardly balance as he went. The chair smacked into the wall and Joel heard scrambling from the hall before Carol threw open the door, her eyes wide and panicky before she saw where Joel had ended up. 

“Are you trying to get yourself hurt?” She demanded as she helped him back to bed. 

“No,” he said, defensive. “I’m tryin’ to get myself back to normal…” 

“Joel, you’re 60 years old…” 

“Don’t remind me.” 

“…And injuries take time to recover from. You’re not a young man anymore, you can’t push yourself the way you used to.” 

“I’m not a young man anymore,” he agreed as she helped lower him to the bed, his body seeming so hulking and large beside hers. “I can’t afford to waste time bein’ useless.” 

“Recovery isn’t useless,” she narrowed her eyes at him. “If you’re not going to listen to me then you need to listen to that woman of yours, Joel. Take it easy and don’t do things like get up without someone there to help if you need it.” 

Carol was nice enough to not tell you about the fact that he got out of bed and walked to the chair, at least. But she had distinctly sided with you in all matters related to his recovery after that, as had Tommy, Ellie, Maria and Savvy. 

It didn’t help that there were clearly conversations happening that no one wanted to tell him about. He heard raised voices from the front room of the clinic one day, you and Ellie going back and forth about something he couldn’t quite make out until there was the sharp boom of Tommy’s voice ending the conversation. 

“Care to tell me what that was this afternoon?” He asked as you settled into his side to sleep after Ellie and Tommy had gone home for the night. 

“Depends on how pissed off you want to be,” you replied, draping your arm gingerly over his chest and settling in with your head on his shoulder. 

“Not gonna piss me off,” he said gently. You had shrugged out of the button down of his that you’d worn that day before climbing in bed, stripped down to the tank top below and he could feel your skin so easily like this, his hand skimming over your bared arm. You pressed yourself closer. 

“Yes it is,” you said quietly, stretching and kissing his throat before settling at his side again. 

“Can’t go the rest of our lives without shit pissin’ me off, baby,” he said gently. “Don’t think I can handle you treatin’ me like glass the whole time, either.” 

“I just worry,” you said softly. “I don’t want to do this without you, can’t give you a damn heart attack because Ellie has some scheme…” 

“So it’s Ellie that’s causin’ the trouble,” he said. 

You groaned. 

“Fine,” you said. “Better not get all worked up and just let me handle it. Trust me when I say I have it, Joel, I really do…” 

“Baby.” 

You sighed again. 

“From what Tommy was conscious for and what little you remember,” you said slowly. “The people who… those people. They were after you. Specifically you. And Ellie… she hasn’t taken kindly to that.” 

“Alright…” 

“She wants to go find them,” you sighed. “She thinks she can handle it…” 

“No,” he said, already moving to get up but you held him down. 

“Joel.” 

“She’s not doin’ that…” 

“I know she’s not,” you said, still holding him in place. “I told you, Tommy and I have it handled.” 

“I don’t want her to go after them,” Joel said, letting himself relax back into the mattress and your hold on him eased. “Don’t want any of you putting yourself at risk on some damn fool mission…” 

“I know.” 

“She needs to get that shit outta her head…”

“I know, Joel.” 

He sighed. 

“This is such a fuckin’ mess. All of it.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” you said quietly, nuzzling in closer to him. “All that matters is you’re alive and you’re here. We’ll figure it out.” 

You figuring it out, apparently, just meant keeping Joel under lock and key for the foreseeable future. Your jaw was set tight across the table and you fidgeted with your mug, your thumb tapping out a stuttering rhythm on the handle. 

“I need to contribute,” Joel said gently. You glared at him. “Sweetheart…” 

“You can contribute without leaving Jackson,” you said. “Your value here isn’t limited to going on fucking patrol…” 

“It’s a big part of my value, Baby, yeah,” he said. “I don’t got a lot of skills…” 

“You were a contractor before,” you snapped. “You think buildings here don’t need to be repaired? That things don’t need to be constructed? Do that, let them take you out of the patrol rotation.” 

“I’m not gonna hide,” he said, trying to get you to look at him even as you seemed bound and determined not to. “I want to get back out there, I want to do my part…” 

“Your part doesn’t include getting fucking murdered, Joel!” 

“I sure hope it doesn’t,” he reached out and took your hand, his thumb running over your knuckles. “I want to be here, with you, for a good, long time, baby. But I can’t… I can’t be something I’m not. And I’m not someone who just lets other people take on all the risk while he sits at home, on his ass…” 

“Joel.” 

“You say you love me,” he said. You actually met his eyes with that, glassy and wet at the edges. 

“Of course I love you,” you said, not as harsh now. “I love you so goddamn much, I can’t lose you, I can’t, do you understand me?” 

“I know, Baby,” he reached out, his large hand cupping your face. “And I’m not planning on going anywhere. But I can’t be the man you love by hidin’ away and waitin’ for trouble to come to someone else. I need to be the one to handle it. Me. I need to take care of my own business, need to look after you, need to take care of our girls. I can’t do that here, acting like I’m not capable of doing my part. I’m going back out there, Baby, and I’d like to do it knowin’ that you’ll still be speaking to me when I get back.” 

“You don’t get to ask me to watch you hurt yourself,” your voice was thick. “I will not watch you die, Joel. I’m not going to do it and you don’t get to ask me to.” 

“I’m not,” he said gently. “But, Sweetheart, if I am gonna go? I’d like to go out as myself. And that means going back out on patrol.” 

Your eyes searched his for a moment before you all but collapsed against his shoulder, your arms snaking up around his neck, a sob cracking through you. He put his arms around you, rocking you gently. 

Part of him had been waiting for this to happen. Beyond when he caught you off guard when he first woke up, you’d been nothing but strong and stoic. The only time there was a hint of anything else was when the two of you went to bed at night. You clung to him then, Joel swallowing any hint of hurt you accidentally caused when you held him tight. You breathed him in deep, pressed as much skin to him as you could manage. Sometimes, those deep breaths were shaky ones, like you were trying not to cry. He just held onto you, wishing you’d say something - anything - so he’d know how you were feeling. But you didn’t. So he took care of you the best way he could while you were focused on taking care of him. 

“It’s alright,” his hand spread wide over your back, keeping a slow and steady rhythm as it ran up and down your spine. Your tears were racking, choking, making your whole body shake. “You’re OK, I’ve got you, s’alright…” 

“I can’t,” you sobbed against him. “I can’t, I can’t… you can’t leave me, Joel, you can’t.” 

“M’not gonna leave you, Baby,” he said softly. “I promise you. I’ll always come home to you.” 

“You can’t know that,” you sniffed, your sobs calming to sniffles. “Seeing you like that…” 

“I know,” he said quietly. He’d seen you nearly dead enough times, he knew. He understood it. “I’m sorry, Baby, I’m so sorry…” 

“Then why are you insisting on trying to go back out there,” you sat back from him. “If you understood it, you’d stay here with me and with Ellie and Savvy, you wouldn’t do this. Not to yourself, not to me, not to them…” 

“I know,” he said again, looking in your eyes, begging you to understand. “But that girl… she took a lot from me, baby. A few organs, more time than I really want. Almost took my future with you and the girls. Not gonna let her take who I am, too. And I need to go back out there. Not gonna just hide in here, afraid, for the rest of my life.” 

Your eyes searched his, wide and wet, and then you sighed. 

“I have conditions. If you expect me to be OK with this…” 

“Of course,” he said quickly. “What are they?” 

“You go out with Tommy or me,” you said. “No one else. I don’t trust you out there with Jesse or fucking Gene…” 

“They were tryin’ to do the right thing…” 

“The right thing was saving you,” you snapped. “You go out with Tommy or with me or not at all.” 

“Alright,” he said. “You or Tommy. At least to start.” 

You glared at him for a moment but you pressed on. 

“You don’t even think about going out until you’re fully cleared by both doctors,” you said. “None of this second opinion bullshit, they’re both on board or you don’t go.” 

“I can do that,” he nodded slowly. “You’re being very reasonable, Baby, I’m impressed…” 

“Oh, fuck off.” 

He laughed a little and tugged you closer to press a kiss to your temple. You melted into his chest, head nestling against his shoulder so that your nose brushed his neck. 

“I promise, I don’t have a death wish,” he said, thumb tracing a path over your arm. “I always want to come home to you. I just need to do this, too.” 

“I know,” you said softly. “I’m just… I’m so scared with you. All the time, I’m so afraid. It’s different than with Savvy, I’ve always been afraid with her. Scared I was gonna drop her or accidentally hurt her or not teach her the right thing or teach her too much. Scared I couldn’t save her. She’s my heart just walking around outside my body, I’m used to being afraid with her. But it’s different than how I feel about you and I just… I’ve never loved someone the way I love you and I don’t know how to live with being afraid of losing that.” 

He took a deep breath and held you a little tighter. 

“Know the feeling.” 

It was just a few days to Christmas and preparations were in full swing. The tree was up in the middle of town, lights lined the buildings, Julie had been hoarding supplies for some kind of holiday cocktail that she claimed was a surprise that you were highly skeptical of. You, Ellie and Savvy had picked a tree for his living room just the week before and set it up, Savvy standing back with a slight frown on her face the whole time. 

“What’s up, baby girl?” Joel asked, sitting in an arm chair as he watched you and Ellie decorate. His leg wasn’t quite up for standing that much yet. 

“It’s just…” She looked at him for a moment and perched on the arm of the chair before looking back at you. “People really did this before? Put trees in their houses?” 

“Yeah,” Joel smiled up at her. “They did. Biggest holiday of the year for a lot of the world, trees inside stores and offices and shit, too.” 

She crossed her arms, her brows knitting together as she frowned.  

“She never did this with me,” she said quietly. “I read about Christmas in a book once but it didn’t talk about this part and she didn’t talk about it much when I asked and… I don’t get it.” 

Joel nodded slowly. Savvy was still warming up to you. She seemed skeptical of your motivations, of your intentions, of everything you said. It was hard to tell how much of it was teenaged cynicism and how much was rooted in her feelings of abandonment. But since you’d all but moved into Joel’s house, she’d been around you more and more and you did your best to let her guide it. He could tell how much it was killing you, though. He knew the feeling well, remembering back to the days when Ellie wouldn’t even look at him. He could tell how badly you wanted to cling to her. He saw how much you wanted her to stay close and tell you everything in the way you hung on her every word, the way you watched the door for a full minute after she left to go back to Ellie’s. But you needed her to be OK with it more. That just didn’t make things any easier. 

“What did she tell you?” Joel asked, keeping his voice low enough that it wouldn’t rise over the Christmas carols you’d put on the stereo. 

“Stuff she did with her parents,” she shrugged. “That her brothers would tease her about being bad… None of this stuff.” 

“Well,” Joel said slowly. “Think she told you the important stuff.” 

She looked at him, skeptical. 

“The important stuff ain’t the decorations, it’s the people,” he said. “She couldn’t give you the other things so she told you about your family. Don’t think she was trying to hide anything from you. She shared with you what mattered.” 

She nodded slowly and looked toward the tree again until Ellie turned around and called her over to put an ornament on the tree. You bit your lip as you watched her do it, your eyes wide and soft and you hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder, giving her a squeeze when she stepped back to look at her handiwork. 

Joel was steadfastly trying to focus on the holiday instead of the tension that had settled over the town since his attack. Patrols had been ramped up, sending people out in small groups instead of pairs. There were growing signs of people present in the wilderness, more xes on trees and remains of fires. Tommy had told Joel - much to your chagrin - that the prevailing theory was they were marking Jackson territory, the signs always found at the edges of where patrols ran. As though someone was watching for where they could seize power. Everyone was on tenterhooks, waiting for something worse to happen.

But the build up to Christmas seemed to have taken everyone’s minds off the looming threat. Joel was thankful for it. It seemed to have lightened your mood some, too - part of why he decided to bring up the patrol issue yet again. 

He didn’t tell you that he was set to see Carol the next day to hopefully get cleared for patrol. And… other activities. 

The cruelty of the timing of the attack hadn’t been lost on Joel. He’d just gotten you back, hadn’t even had 12 damn hours with you before he had to leave for patrol and then almost never came back. But he’d lived and, while you’d been close ever since, you weren’t close enough. 

He wanted you. 

That wasn’t quite right, he always wanted you. He was pretty sure he’d wanted you since the moment he first saw you. He was beyond that now. He needed you so bad he ached with it, his whole fucking body hurt with it sometimes. But you wouldn’t touch him without the doctors saying it was OK. Even though, at this point, he was starting to think it was medically dangerous to be so fucking wanting. 

“Are you goin’ to the stables today?” Joel asked, holding you close. You nodded against him. “You think you’ll be done in time for the movie?” 

“Definitely,” you said. “Savvy’s never seen a Christmas movie, not missing that.” 

He kissed your forehead. 

“Been meanin’ to ask you something,” he said. 

“Hm.” 

“Think you’ll be my date for the dance tomorrow night?” He asked. You pulled back from him and glared, your eyes still red. He smiled a little. “Know I left it to last minute but I’m hoping…” 

“Of course I’ll be your date,” you shoved him ever so lightly. “Who else am I gonna go with? Been cooped up here with you for the last month, all my other prospects have given up on me…” 

He laughed and kissed you. 

“Guess you’ll just have to be my girl, then.” 

“Guess so.” 

He kissed you again, deeply, firmly. But it was different than so many other kisses he’d shared with you over the past few weeks. There was heat behind it. A twinge of need and want that tasted so familiar on your tongue. You moaned and adjusted so you were closer to him, your body curving, leg hitching up over his so you could press your mound against his thigh. He gripped you tighter, pulled you closer, but you pulled back with a groan. 

“Baby,” he breathed but you shook your head. 

“Not going to risk hurting you,” you panted. 

“Not gonna hurt me…” 

“Not sure I trust your judgement,” you gave him a final, chaste, peck on the lips. “I’ll see you tonight, walk over with you and the girls.” 

“Have a good day,” he said. 

“I will if you take it easy,” you replied, extracting yourself gently from his grip and heading out the door. 

He watched you leave and waited for a few minutes to make sure you were gone before he got up, too. It was almost Christmas and there were things he wanted to do. 

*** 

Joel looked far too pleased with himself, his hand on your thigh as you sat beside him at the Tipsy Bison. You had one of Julie’s special cocktails - something she called the Grinch and tasted like mint - and were well on your way to being tipsy for the first time in months. 

Savvy and Ellie were sitting with some friends - Dina, Jesse, the boy from school you suspected Savvy had a crush on named Kyle - and looked to be having fun. You hoped Savvy would talk to you about it later. She’d been opening up a little bit more, never fully pulling away like she had for so long. You took what you could get, thankful that she was willing to speak to you at all. 

She’d gone with you, Joel and Ellie to the movie the night before. It was Miracle on 34th Street. She seemed to enjoy it, smiling and watching the screen in wonder, soaking it all in. It was bittersweet to see. You’d always wanted to be able to give her these things, the kinds of things you remembered loving as a girl at the holidays. But there was a certain cruelty in it, too. She’d never see a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, never visit a mall Santa. Jackson brought her closer to the life you’d led as a girl but it was still so far away and it was hard, not being able to share it with her.

But Ellie had talked her into spending Christmas Day with you and Joel. You’d damn near kissed her when she told you and you felt a little like you had as a child on Christmas Eve, the greatest gift you could have ever asked for, spending the day with Savvy, Joel and Ellie all together. 

But Joel seemed as excited as you were, a small smile tugging at his lips as you sat across from Tommy and Maria. 

“Can’t believe it’s Christmas again,” Maria said, taking a drink of his beer. “Swear, time goes by faster and faster every damn year.” 

“I’ll take time goin’ faster as long as that means it’s still goin’,” Joel replied. 

“Know that’s right,” Tommy shook his head a little, half smile on his face. “We’re all still standing and after the last year, seems like the best I can ask for.” 

“Y’all doing anything special for William this year?” You asked, turning your cocktail glass slowly in your fingers. “He’s getting big enough to know what’s going on now.” 

“Santa’s planning to make a visit,” Tommy smiled a little. “He’s been pretty good lately, figure that should be rewarded.” 

You smiled back, looking toward Savvy. She was facing the boy on the bench next to her and his fingers traced the outside of her knee and she smiled. 

The music changed, the strains of the song familiar. Hallelujah. You looked toward Joel and he smiled a little wider, the change so subtle you doubted anyone but you would notice. 

“This is hardly a Christmas song.” 

“There’s an argument to be made,” he said. “Heard it on the radio sometimes at Christmastime, it counts.” 

He took his hand off your thigh and held it out to you. An offering. 

“C’mon, baby,” his eyes were hot on you. “Call it an early Christmas present.” 

You put your hand in his and let him lead you to the dance floor. You draped your arms over his shoulders, fingers trailing through his hair as he tugged your body close to his. 

“See?” He said, tracing your nose with his. “Not so bad.” 

“Helps when you’ve got a good partner,” you smiled a little. “How’s that leg of yours doing?” 

“Good as new,” he said. “Definitely isn’t gonna keep me from dancing with you, that’s for damn sure.” 

You laughed a little before you nestled your head against his chest, sighing contentedly. 

“I’m so glad you’re still here to dance with,” you said quietly as you swayed with him. He gave you a gentle squeeze. 

“Me too,” he said softly, almost sadly. 

“I feel like I wasted so much time,” you whispered, tears pricking the corners of your eyes and making your throat tight. You got like this a lot lately, this haze of what almost was hanging over you. “I should have known better and…” 

“Hey,” he said, pulling back from you just enough to look in your eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, didn’t waste anything. I gave you a lot of shit to work through, more than you ever should have had to deal with. You did what you needed to do, s’not a waste.” 

“What if I’d lost you?” You asked softly. “What if I never came over that night, what if…” 

“What if a lot of things,” he cut you off. “Doesn’t matter. We got here. That’s the important thing.” 

He pulled you back against him and you pressed your ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. 

“Gotta ask,” he said, tone lighter after a moment. “Never had any of those fancy dance classes you had. How do I hold up compared to the guys who did?” 

You laughed once, burying your face in his chest for a moment. 

“Best partner I ever had,” you said. 

He chuckled a little, his lips brushing your forehead. 

“Good.” 

You held him closer, moving with him slowly on the dance floor for a while. You weren’t sure how long. You let yourself get lost in him. The way he swayed in time to a rhythm your body was more in tune with than your mind, the way he felt so warm as he wrapped around you, the way his heart beat and the rise and fall of his chest were constant and stable. The way he was whole in your arms. It was like you could finally relax into that reality, you’d reached a point that you weren’t just scared anymore. He was here, he wasn’t going to fade away to nothing in the night. His heart would keep beating, his chest would keep rising, you wouldn’t need to find a way to do this without him. 

“Ready to go?” He asked softly after what felt like a while. “Want to get you home.” 

“Yeah,” you said, separating from him enough to look at him. “Let’s go.” 

You went and said your goodbyes to Tommy and Maria and Joel stopped by the girls’ table - scaring the shit out of Kyle by the look of it, Kyle’s eyes wide and terrified - before lacing his fingers with yours for the walk home. 

“What did you say to them?” You asked, walking close enough to him that you could feel the slight limp he had now. 

“Told ‘em to get home at a reasonable time,” he shrugged. “And no boys behind closed doors. Don’t want that Kyle kid gettin’ any ideas…” 

You snorted. 

“It looked like you threatened to castrate the boy,” you said. “I don’t want anyone taking advantage of Savvy but I don’t want everyone terrified to date her, either.” 

“Didn’t get that specific with it,” Joel said, a little defensive. “Just made it clear that someone was watchin’. And that someone was me.” 

You smiled and shook your head a little. 

“You’re ridiculous,” you said. “But… thank you. For taking care of my daughter.” 

He looked at you, his face serious as you came to a stop at his front walk.

“Course,” he said. “She’s an amazing kid, Bambi. You did a great job with her. And… might not deserve it but… feels like she’s mine, too. Love her like she’s mine. Hope that’s OK.” 

You looked at him for a moment, his eyes soft and warm, the lines of his face familiar landscapes. For a moment, it was as though your heart had broken open with him, cracked down to the center because the love you had for him couldn’t be held there anymore. You pulled him close to you, kissing him soft and deep. 

Or it started that way, at least. But his body against yours, the sharpness of your love in your chest, the taste of him on your tongue pushed you into desire. It didn’t take much to spark it - it had been so long since you’d had him - but once it was there, it burned hot and fast, swallowing the reminder that you should keep yourself under control quickly. 

“C’mon,” Joel said against your lips, breathless. “Let’s go inside.” 

You nodded and followed him inside, using the short walk from the street to his front door as a chance to try to get the want that was flaring inside you under control. It was too soon, it had to be too soon and you weren’t going to risk Joel’s health just because you were aching to have him as close as possible. 

Joel pulled you back against him as he he closed the door behind the two of you, tilting your head to give him better access to your mouth, his fingertips sinking into your skin as he gripped you tight. You swallowed a moan and tried to keep yourself from giving in even as you pressed yourself closer to him. 

“Joel,” you breathed, pulling your lips from his, his hands still holding you against him. “We… we should stop…” 

“Don’t need to,” he said, kissing you gently again. 

“Joel…” 

“Went to the doctor today,” he kissed over the line of your jaw, following the curve of your bones up to your temple where his lips lingered. “Said there’s a lot I’m allowed to do now. Including everything I want to do to you.” 

He trailed kisses down to your neck and you moaned as his lips pressed into the sensitive skin there. 

“I’ll beg if I have to,” he whispered. “But I need you, baby. Need to have you close, need to be inside of you.” 

“Fuck,” you panted, eyes closed, fighting to focus. “Are…” his mouth found a particularly sensitive spot, kissing and sucking you gently and sending goosebumps spreading over your skin. “Jesus… are you… are you sure? I don’t want you gettin’ hurt…”

“I’m sure,” he said softly, finally pulling his lips from your skin to look in your eyes again, your body cradled against his. “Bein’ apart from you has damn near killed me. Need to feel you.” 

“Need you, too,” you breathed, caving to your baser instincts. “Please, Joel.” 

He kissed you again and you could taste the desperation on his tongue, heat pooling between your hips. He guided you toward the stairs as he shrugged out of his coat and pushed yours off your shoulders and down your arms. He left both in a heap on the floor, keeping his mouth against your own until the two of you were at the base of the stairs. You only separated long enough to go up them, Joel pulling you back against him on the second story landing. 

You let him guide you, tried to focus on being gentle with him instead of pulling him to you and pressing him against you the way you wanted. 

But you could only resist so long. You tugged at his shirt, pulling at the buttons until you could shove it down his arms and toss it to the floor, too. He did the same with yours, discarding it in the hall before pulling you into his bedroom, nudging the door closed with his foot. It wasn’t long before you were both naked next to his bed, bodies pressed close and tight, his cock thick and hard and weeping against your stomach.

You took control then, turning him in your arms so that he was against the bed. He lowered himself back onto it slowly, his grip on you gentle but secure so you were on his lap, straddling him as you kissed him. 

“Really fucking missed you,” he whispered, kissing down your jaw to your neck to your chest. He rocked his hips up against you, his thick shaft nestled against your clit, the motion making you moan. “Goddamn, missed you so much.” 

His hands slipped over your skin to your breasts, cupping and cradling them before lavishing his hot, wet mouth over the soft swell of flesh there. He sucked a nipple into his mouth with a needy groan and you couldn’t help but roll your hips against him as he did, your tight, hot center clenching and gripping at nothing, desperate for something to pull deep inside. Joel’s tongue teased the firm nub between his lips, licking and sucking you, making you moan and rock yourself against him on his lap before moving to the other breast, giving you the same treatment there. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his curls. He pulled his mouth from your chest to look in your eyes, his gaze soft and hot like starlight. 

“Think you can come like this for me?” He asked softly. “Want you to come for me, want you to be so wet and soft inside for me, think you can do that?” 

You just nodded and his hands slid around to your back as he buried his face in your throat before going back to your breasts as he rutted his thick, dripping length up against your clit, the silken firmness of him pressing close and tight against your wet heat. You ground your hips down against him, desperate for more, to be as close as you could be to him, his body determinedly angled to keep you from working him into you. There was a tightening ache in you, the burn of need for something that was just out of reach making your head spin and pleasure spool.

“Just gotta come for me,” his voice was hot and needy. “Just come for me, all you gotta do. Just come, just come, please baby, just come, want to feel you come like this, you can give me that, know you can…” 

His desperate words were what you needed, the tension in you rising until you felt like you were going to break with wanting before your orgasm hit you hard, a wave of pleasure rolling over you. It was sharp, you hadn’t come in weeks, and you could feel all of it. How your clit throbbed against his cock, how your entranced pulsed and grasped at the root of him, how it seemed like your entire being was trying to pull him into yourself. 

“Oh fuck,” he held you tight to him, his cock pressed tight against you, so firm that you could feel him against your pubic bone. “Fuck, just like that. Gonna feel so good inside you baby, gonna be so goddamn good, just get all that come all over me, feel so good drippin’ all over me.” 

You dropped your head to his shoulder, body going limp for a moment as your orgasm finished. Joel cradled you to him before going to adjust you on the bed but you stopped him, sitting up again and pressing back on his shoulders. 

“Baby,” he groaned but you took his face in your hands and tilted his head so you could kiss him, really kiss him, the kind of kiss that was more hungry and consuming and claiming than anything else. 

“Let me,” you whispered when you pulled your lips from his just enough to speak. He let you adjust him then, until he was flat on his back in the middle of the bed, your folded legs bracketing his thighs. You stroked his cock - wet with your come and leaking his own arousal - before rising onto your knees to notch his thick head at your entrance. Joel’s hands went to your thighs, his thumb tracing the scar there, the one from the knife you’d taken to the leg when trying to save him. His eyes were trained on it, his fingertips digging into your flesh more sharply there than your other leg. His eyes traced up your body to the scar at your stomach, just as harsh and red and raw as the one at your leg. 

“Not tonight,” you said quietly. His eyes found yours. “It’s not about that tonight.” 

He didn’t say anything. Instead, his callused hands slid up your thighs to your hips and you eased down onto his hard length. You moaned as you took him into yourself, his thick cock sinking into your soft heat. He felt so good inside of you, your body remembering just how to make him a part of you. It had been weeks but it didn’t matter, he was built into you now, he fit into you the way no one else ever could, filling and stretching you totally. His breaths stuttered as more and more of him entered you, his fingertips clutching onto the soft flesh of your hips and ass harder and harder with every inch of him that worked its way into you. Just as the ridge of his head ghosted against the back wall of your channel, your hips met his and you let yourself adjust for a moment, savoring the feel of him inside you that way. 

Joel was panting for breath below you, his eyes tracing over your body again and again as your channel gripped him. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he looked in your eyes as he said it. “Most beautiful goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.” 

You just moaned a little, your hands coming to rest on the broad expanse of his chest, fingers splaying wide over his skin. But you didn’t move otherwise. He felt too good like this, so deep inside you. You almost didn’t want to move, didn’t care if you didn’t make yourself come with him in you. He was deep inside and he was secure there. You could feel how whole and alive he was, the way his cock throbbed, the pulse of him, the comforting heat. Like this, he was yours. Unquestionably, undoubtedly yours and no one could take him away from you. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” his fingers tightened on you. “I… fuck… I need you to move, baby… I can’t keep goin’ like this, I need… I need you to move, need to feel you, please baby, please.” 

You didn’t respond. You just started to rise on his cock, moving your hips slow and shaky over him, making him groan. When just his head was left barely inside your entrance, you thrust back down, his cock splitting you open again, his head falling back, mouth open in a desperate gasp. 

You rode him like that for a while, you weren’t sure how long. The slow and aching lift, the devastating reclaiming as you took him again and again almost meditative. You watched each other, lost in the feeling of your bodies together, working in tandem to become something more than just yourselves. 

Eventually, Joel tugged you closer, tilting you down until he could reach your face, his large palm curving over your jaw, his thumb pressing into your cheek. 

“C’mere,” he whispered in the dim light of the moon on the snow outside his window. “Want to feel more of you.” 

You folded yourself into him, your bodies aligned, his cock still buried deep but your chest now against his, your lips overing over his own, noses against each other. Even in the night, you could see the different shades of brown in his iris like this, all of them soft and full of love for you. 

His hand slid to the small of your back, tilting your hips just so and holding you there as he started thrusting up into you and making you whimper. 

“Let me,” he said softly. 

You just nodded, letting him gently work himself into you again and again. The strokes were aching and smooth, almost rocking as he moved inside of you. The deep, full press of his thick cock into all the soft parts of you that existed because of him, the brief moment of feeling so full and whole before the tender rhythm he set within you pulled him back again. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, so desperate. You weren’t sure you could even say anything else, every other word you’d ever learned reduced down to the only one that mattered in that moment. 

“Together,” he said quietly, never breaking his rhythm. “OK baby? Together.” 

You just nodded quickly. Your body was getting tighter and tighter and you kept your eyes on his, breathing the same air, feeling the press of his warm, soft skin into yours as your orgasm built alongside his. 

“You’re close,” he said. It wasn’t a question and you didn’t need to answer. He could feel you and you could feel him, too. “I’m gonna come, want you to come with me. Going to fill you up so deep, baby, going to feel me so deep and I need to feel you, too.” 

His hand that was on your back pressed into you firmer, taking root at the base of your spine and pushing your hips lower so his cock was deeper longer, his hips pressed against your clit with more heat and tension and, for a moment, it felt as though your entire body was on fire with need before the band of pleasure that had been winding tight inside you snapped. Your orgasm hit you like a wave, rushing out from your core and flooding through the rest of your being just as Joel pressed your hips down and flush with his, holding himself deep as he came with a strangled moan. Your channel fluttered around him, rippling and pulling him into you as he pulsed deep inside. You could feel him so clearly against and inside you, every inch of his skin, every throb of his cock, every gasping breath. You kissed him then, bodies connected in every way, until your orgasms eased and you went limp on top of him. Your head nuzzled against the side of his neck and you breathed in the scent of his skin as you came back down to earth, his arms keeping you flush against him as his cock softened inside of you, the combination of his come and yours already dripping out of you. 

“Never goin’ that long without you again,” he said softly, his fingers tracing slow and easy abstract patterns over your skin. You hummed in agreement. “I’m gettin’ to be too old to be so deprived.” 

You laughed a little. 

“Should start being more careful then,” you said, reaching out to card your fingers through his hair. 

“Well now that I have the proper motivation…” 

You laughed again and closed your eyes. He held you like that for a while, until goosebumps from the winter air started prickling over your skin. He took you more firmly then, slipping his soft cock from the safe, soft warmth of you and slipping you down beside him on the bed. He pulled a blanket over the two of you and you sighed contentedly. He tugged you closer and you happily obliged, your legs tanging with his as he brushed your hair back before holding your face gently in his large hand. You just smiled a little, eyes on his. He smiled back, just enough that his cheek dimpled. 

“You’re still feeling OK?” You asked quietly after a few minutes. 

He laughed lightly. 

“Whole lot better than OK,” he replied. “I’m amazing. Always amazing when I’m with you.” 

You smiled a little wider. 

“You know,” he said slowly. “I had a lot of time to think when I thought I was about to die.” 

Your smile shifted to a frown but his didn’t, not really. His gaze was just soft, gentle. Like he was trying to leave himself as open as he could to take as much of you in as possible. 

“I remember more of that than anything that actually happened in that room. Didn’t have much in the way of regrets,” he continued. “Had you to thank for most of that. Ellie and I had made things right, I was thankful for that. I was thankful you’d come back to me, even if it was just for a night. Thankful I got to tell you I loved you one last time…” 

“Joel,” you whispered. His thumb stroked your cheek. 

“I saw Sarah,” he said quietly. Your eyes went wide but you stayed silent. “When I was unconscious, I saw her. She was someplace good, somewhere that was bright and warm like her. And there was part of me that wanted to stay with her, take care of her and make sure she was OK. But… most of me wanted to come back here and be with you and the girls. And Sarah… she told me that it wasn’t my time yet. Told me I still had things to do here, that I needed to take care of you and Ellie and Savvy and I just… I knew she was right. I felt it, more than I’d felt so many other things, I felt that. I belong here, next to you. I don’t want to have any regrets when it comes to you but right now… well, I got one big one.” 

“What?” You asked quietly, your heart beating faster. 

“That I almost died before having the chance to live as your husband,” he said. Your breath caught. “But you saved me, gave me a chance to do it right. And I don’t think I deserve to ask you for a damn thing but I’m hopin’ you’ll let me, anyway. Will you give me that chance? Will you be my wife, will you marry me?” 

Your heart was beating so fast that you could hear your blood in your ears. You reached out, hand trembling, and cupped his cheek. 

“Of course I will,” you said softly, voice thick and wet. Joel smiled, tears glistening in his eyes, and he kissed you, gentle and deep and lovely, a kiss empty of expectation and full of promise. 

When you separated, you just looked at him for a moment, taking him in, the man who would be your husband. The whole concept made you laugh, the sound bubbling up in you. 

He just smiled. 

“What, baby?” 

“I just…” you paused, still laughing a little. “It’s the end of the world, how do you even get married now? Not like there’s a courthouse…” 

“Well,” he said, rolling away from you for a moment and reaching into the drawer of his nightstand. You propped yourself up on your elbow and frowned, watching as he rolled back with a small wooden box in his hand. “Figure since the paperwork part don’t exist anymore, we can do it whatever way you want to but…” he opened the box. Inside was two rings, both dark metal, one band slender, the other thick. “Thought I’d make sure this part was covered.” 

“Oh Joel,” you sat up all the way, letting the blanket pool around your hips. You took the smaller ring from the box and held it up, looking at it up close. “Where did you find these?” 

“Made ‘em,” he said, sitting up, too. “They’re from one of Ares’ old horseshoes. Figured it was only appropriate…” 

“They’re perfect,” you breathed, turning it over in your fingers for a moment before looking at him. “Could we… I mean, I know it’s fast but… would you be OK if we just did it now?” 

“Did what?” 

“Got married,” you said, watching him. “I understand if you want to wait or want the girls there but…” 

“How do you want to do it?” He cut you off. 

You smiled a little. 

“How about we just make promises to each other.” 

He smiled back. 

“I like it,” he took his ring out and set the box aside. He held it out toward you and you took it before putting your ring in his palm. The two of you faced each other, blankets in your laps, knees brushing under the covers. 

He took a deep breath. 

“I promise I’ll love you with every part of me,” he said. “And I promise I’ll keep lovin’ you until there’s none of me left.” 

“I promise to love you every second of the rest of my life,” you replied. “And every second of whatever comes after, too.” 

“I promise to protect you,” he said. “Promise to never let anything hurt you.” 

“I promise to take care of you,” you said. “And look out for you and protect you because where you go, I go.” 

“I promise to love your girl like she’s my own,” he continued. “And I promise to take care of her and do everything I can to make sure she’s safe and happy.” 

“I promise to love Ellie like you do,” you said. “I promise to help guide her and protect her and give her the life she deserves to have.” 

You looked at each other for a moment, tears in your eyes, before Joel gently took your left hand in his. 

“Think they used to say ‘with this ring, I thee wed,’ or something like that,” he said, thumb tracing your knuckles. 

“That sounds right,” you smiled a little. 

“Alright then,” he said, lining the ring up with your finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.” 

He slipped it into place. It fit perfectly, settling at the base of your finger with a soothing sense of finality. Joel lifted your hand to his mouth and kissed you there, his lips lingering on your skin for a moment before releasing you. You held his ring tight in your palm for a second, warming the metal, before taking Joel’s left hand. You lined the ring up with his finger and took a deep breath before looking him in the eye. 

“With this ring, I thee wed.” 

You slipped it into place, lacing your fingers with his once it settled where it belonged. You smiled, looking down and seeing his ring on your finger before looking back at him again. 

“Think I get to kiss the bride now,” he said. 

You laughed. 

“I think so, too.” 

He pulled you against him gently and kissed you all soft and deep, his lips holding every promise he’d made to you and, for the first time since the end of the world, you knew what it was to feel secure.

Next Chapter

A/N: ❤️

And that's all I have to say about that.

And that there's a lot more story to come. We're not quite to the end yet, I promise.

Thank you for being here and for reading. Love you!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123@ashleyfilm

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Easter

————————————————————————-

Summary: You and Joe spend Easter in Athens at his parent's house, and you can't help but think about what your life has become.

Warnings: Fluff!

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Into the Mystic

————————————————————————-

March 31, 2024

“Hey, Burrow’s!” - Robin

Joe held my hand as we walked through the back gate into his childhood backyard.

Miles and Tyson were walking in front of us in their usual matching fashion. They had on white button-downs and jeans, their high-top Nikes matching the ones Joe was wearing right now. Joe had styled their hair to have the same swoop as his.

“Hey, Mom.” - Joe smiled

Jimmy stood at the grill, grilling what looked to be steaks as he talked to Joe’s brother Jamie.

Immediately, Miles was running to his grandma.

“Look at you! You look snazzy!” - Robin

Miles hugged Robin’s neck after she picked him up, and Joe guided me over to the back deck.

“Mama, sit down.” - Joe

“I’m okay, Joe.” - you

Joe gave me a stern look, and I slowly sat down on the porch swing. He sat down next to me and pulled Tyson onto his lap.

“It's kinda cold…” - you

The way Joe immediately pulled his light jacket off made me smile. He always did his best to take care of me. After putting the jacket over my shoulders, Joe kept his arm around me.

“Thank you.” - you smile

“Of course.” - Joe pressed a kiss to your forehead

I sighed in contentment as I looked around the yard. Robin was holding Miles as he blabbed to Jimmy about what he got in his Easter baskets this morning. Joe ran his fingertips over my bare shoulder, and my eyes dropped down to Tyson. His chubby cheek was pressed onto his dad’s chest as he fisted Joe’s shirt.

Pulled out of my daydream with a squeeze of my shoulder, I looked up and met my favorite pair of blues, who was already looking down at me.

“Whatcha thinking?” - Joe

“I’m just very happy and thankful. For this… for you.” - you

“Good. I'm thankful for you too.” - Joe

——

After dinner, Robin called all of the grandkids inside so the adults could hide eggs for an Easter egg hunt.

Joe sat back down on the swing and gently grabbed my hips so I'd sit next to him.

“Your feet sore, baby? You've been on them all day.” - Joe

“A little.” - you

He bent down and grabbed my legs, pulling them onto his lap as I sat sideways. Joe took my wedged sandals off and rubbed my feet.

“Joseph!” - Robin

“What?!” - Joe

“It's your turn this year.” - Robin

“For what?” - Joe

Jamie and Dan laughed on the other side of the porch.

“Easter bunny.” - Dan laughed

I looked at Joe, who looked confused until it clicked, and his eyes went wide.

“Absolutely not! No way, I'm not putting that suit on!” - Joe

“Awe, please, Joe? For the kids!” - you

“No way.” - Joe

Joe had a disgusted look on his face until his eyes met mine.

“Please, baby.” - you

“Fine.” - Joe sighed

——

When Joe walked outside in the bunny costume, I couldn't help but laugh. I hid my face behind my hand as I stood with the twins in the grass. They each held a basket.

Miles hid behind my legs like he does when he's scared while Tyson pointed at Joe and yelled ‘Bunny’.

Easter bunny Joe walked up to me and picked up Tyson, trying to show Miles that he wasn't that scary.

“See, buddy, he's not scary.” - you

Joe eventually put Tyson down and wrapped his arms around my waist. I laughed as I leaned against his chest.

“This is humiliating.” - Joe whispered

“I’ll give you extra kisses later to make up for this.” - you

“Good.” - Joe

When I pulled away from Joe, I noticed that Miles’s chin was quivering.

“Oh, it's okay, bubs! Don't cry.” - you

Joe pulled the head of the costume off to show Miles that it was just him, and I couldn't help but chuckle at his messed-up hair.

“It’s just daddy.” - you laughed

Miles was still slow to calm down even when Joe bent down to be at his level.

“Look, it's just Daddy.” - Joe

“Daddy?” - Miles

My heart ached when he wiped his little eyes and walked toward Joe.

“Sorry for scaring you.” - Joe

“S’okay.” - Miles

Robin took the boys over to where the eggs were to start the hunt, giving Joe and me some alone time while she distracted Miles.

“Hey, baby, can you help me get out of this, please?” - Joe

After unzipping the suit and helping Joe out of it, he reached a hand up and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Its bad isn't it?” - Joe

“What?” - your smile fell

“My hair.” - Joe

“Oh! It's not too bad.” - you

Joe leaned his head down and I fixed it back to its original form, him kissing my cheek before fully pulling away.

“You look beautiful in this dress by the way. Baby girl is really popping out now.” - Joe

“She is.” - you agreed

“I can't wait till she’s here.” - Joe

He placed a big hand on the center of my bump, and I laid mine over his.

“We still have a long way to go, but it's going to be worth the wait.” - you smiled

“Agreed.” - Joe

I grinned at him, his eyes flicking from my eyes to my lips before he leaned in and kissed me.

“Do you remember our first Easter together as a couple?” - Joe

“Yup. We were kissing in the gazebo and Jamie walked in on us.” - you

“Fun times… I remember my teenage boy mind going crazy over you in that dress.” - Joe laughed

“What?!” - you

“Your Easter dress that year. It hugged you in all the right places.” - Joe

“You’re crazy…” - you

Our conversation ended and we walked back up to the porch, Joe only sat down for a few seconds before getting up to help the twins hunt for eggs.

Joe offered his assistance after we watched Tyson pick up an egg and put it in his tipped-over basket, only for it to fall straight out of his basket. Miles was trailing behind him, picking up every egg Tyson dropped. Both were completely oblivious, and Miles thought he was just really good at finding them, unaware of the fact that they were Tyson’s dropped eggs.

I sat back and let the wind blow over my face, snuggling more into Joe’s jacket just like I had snuggled into his letterman jacket during our first Easter.

Now the owner of that letterman jacket was my husband, who was running around the yard like a madman, trying to find eggs for our kids.

“Joe! Leave some for the other kids!” - you chuckled

————————————————————————-

Authors note: Happy Easter y'all!

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕💕

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Pride! Could you do more of the fem mxy!wwx identity porn? I hope you have a great day 🌻

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42

Jiang Yanli sees the Lan party approaching and cant help the spike of anxiety that shoots through her.

First is Lan Xichen and A-Yao, who greet Madame Jin and Jin Guangshan formally and respectfully, without a hint of resentment for what they've put them through, for allowing them to arrange this alliance only to yank the promised marriage out from under them.

She knows better than to think there isn't any, but their serene expressions give nothing away. Lan Xichen's amiable mask hides a warm, peaceable center. A-Yao's hides a bitterness and cleverness so great that to this day she thinks it a tragedy that A-Yao hadn't grown up among the Yu.

They make look similar on the surface, but Lan Xichen and A-Yao’s relationship is proof that opposites really do attract.

A-Yao says something that causes Madame Jin’s face to tighten. Then they’re stepping back and Lan Wangji is stepping forward, but he’s not the one she cares about.

Xuanyu stands by his side, back straight and eyes forward, seemingly comfortable and at ease with Lan Wangji in a way that few people manage. Her expression when she faces her father is strained, but she stands close enough to Lan Wangji that their sleeves threaten to tangle together, so she assumes that strain is all that to Jin Guangshan and not Xuanyu’s husband.

“I told you she’s be fine,” Zixuan murmurs.

She wishes they were somewhere less public where she could get away with elbowing him in the ribs or at least stepping on his foot.

“Yanli-jie!” Xuanyu is waving at her, bounding forward without a thought to propriety. Both Lan Wangji and A-Yao are exasperated while Lan Xichen just seems outright fond, which is even more a balm to her worry than Xuanyu’s hopefully good relationship with her husband. A sect leader’s affection is nothing to sniff at, and even if Lan Wangji has little use for his bride, he would not upset his brother by treating someone he’s fond of callously.

“Meimei,” she returns and watches Xuanyu’s grins stretch to almost painful levels as the young woman reaches out to grab her hands. Xuanyu had felt so cold to the touch before, but now her hands are warm, and with several new callouses. She looks stronger too, thicker around the waist and the flesh of her cheeks, and it’s a relief to see her strengthened in both body and spirit.

Her grin eases and she becomes subdued as she inclines her head to Zixuan. “Jin Zixuan.”

He returns it, eyeing her speculatively, but it’s not a surprise. Jiang Yanli’s not sure if the two of them have ever had a real conversation.

“I brought some extra guests,” Xuanyu says. “Sorry.”

She gestures behind her and Jiang Yanli follows her hand and then blinks rabidly, but the vision in front of her doesn’t change. Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen stand there, along with a blind girl that she doesn’t remember seeing before. “It’s not a problem, Meimei. You’ll have to tell me that story of how they came to join you.”

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow, looking down at Xuanyu who pointedly ignores his gaze. That makes Jiang Yanli nervous, but it doesn’t seem to be tinged with any true animosity. She’s more than familiar what that looks like on Lan Wangji.

“It was uh – recent. So recent that I’m in need of a proper bath and a new set of robes, actually.” She leans in to whisper, loudly enough that they can all hear her just fine, “I switched out my over robe for something less damaged and bloodstained.”

Lan Wangji sighs deeply. Xuanyu rolls her eyes, which seems like a good sign.

“Oh dear,” Jiang Yanli says, affecting wide eyes and a gentle concern that’s only a little fake. For a moment, a smirk steals across Xuanyu’s face before she smooths it out again, which nearly distracts Jiang Yanli from her play here. Not even A-Yao had picked up on her act the first time she used to it. “That sounds so harrowing and awful. Please, let me escort you to my rooms – you can use my bath and I can help you with your hair. We are sisters, after all.”

“Of course, Yanli-jie,” she says, eyes bright with humor. It’s refreshing to do this with someone who’s in on the joke from the beginning and isn’t A-Cheng. “That’s so kind of you, how can I possibly refuse?”

Both of their husbands look put out as they walk away together, arm in arm. Maybe this will finally give Zixuan and Lan Wangji something to talk about.

[valkyrieromanoff]

🕸️MOONLIT RIDE: ANAKIN X YOU (day 3 of 31)

synopsis: you and Anakin go on a speeder ride at night.

warning: fluffy, car accident but no hurt, idiots in love

words: 1.3k

 a/n: Hello there, Anakin is my favorite character, so expect a lot about himI hope you like it💖

ꜱᴜɴ'ꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏᴏ ꜱᴏᴏɴ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴅᴀʏʟɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴀᴠɪɴɢꜱ 

ᴍɪxᴇᴅ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴɢʀᴇɢᴀᴛɪɴɢ 

ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴜꜱ ɪɴ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇꜱ 

ᴀʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ'ꜱ ᴀɴ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ

“I don’t know if I believe Master Kenobi let you roam the streets of lower Coruscant unsupervised,” you teased, your voice low as you followed Anakin through the poorly lit alleys. The dim glow of flickering lanterns and neon signs cast long shadows across the narrow streets, where dark shapes darted in and out of view. The eerie Halloween decorations strung across the bars and stalls added an almost festive edge to the otherwise foreboding atmosphere.

You clung to the hem of Anakin’s Jedi cloak, the rush of people making it hard to keep pace. The bustling crowd was overwhelming, a constant flow of locals weaving through the streets, each moving with purpose, as if they were eager to disappear into the shadows. Hooded figures brushed past you, their cloaks billowing as they vanished into the maze of Coruscant's lower levels. It felt as though everyone here had something to hide, and perhaps they did. After all, the lower levels of the capital were infamous for harboring the galaxy’s most dangerous criminals—bounty hunters, assassins, and rogue separatists.

“Well, it is Halloween,” you whispered, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Maybe your wish to escape the Jedi Temple was granted.”

Anakin glanced back at you with an amused smirk, his eyes twinkling in the dim light. “I don’t need a wish. I’m a Jedi Knight now,” he replied confidently, though there was a hint of defensiveness in his tone, as if your comment about needing Obi-Wan’s approval still lingered.

As you rounded a corner, Anakin’s hand shot out to gently pull you in front of him, shielding you from a group of drunken Rodians stumbling out of a bar, their laughter echoing off the walls. You could hear the low hum of music spilling out of nearby clubs, mixed with the occasional cheer from patrons gathered around tables for late-night gambling.

“Walk like you’ve been here before,” Anakin whispered, his voice close to your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ll stand out otherwise.”

You shot him a sidelong glance but nodded, doing your best to mimic the hurried steps of the locals. Still, you couldn’t help but marvel at the lively chaos around you—the streets were alive with a strange mix of festive energy and danger. Jack-o'-lanterns carved with grotesque, glowing faces adorned the doorways of various establishments, and garlands of fake cobwebs hung from rooftops. Every now and then, a ghostly wisp of fog drifted across the streets, adding a haunting touch to the scene.

“How many times have you been here?” you asked curiously as you watched him toss some credits to a Zabrak at a speeder rental shop. “You seem… comfortable.”

Anakin shrugged, his fingers brushing through his unruly hair as he took his time choosing a speeder. “I’ve chased a criminal or two down here before,” he replied casually, his voice nonchalant, but there was a gleam in his eye. Finally, he settled on a sleek red speeder and gestured for you to climb in beside him.

“Sure,” you scoffed, raising an eyebrow as you settled into the seat. “Like you’re *only* down here for Jedi business.”

Before you could say more, Anakin gunned the engine, and the speeder shot forward with a burst of speed that left your stomach in knots. The night wind whipped through your hair, and the ground blurred beneath you as he weaved effortlessly through the crowded air lanes. Your fingers instinctively tightened around the edge of the seat as he made sharp turns, narrowly avoiding collisions with other speeders.

“You’re going to get us killed driving like this!” you shouted, your voice barely carrying over the roar of the engine. Anakin spun the speeder, flipping it upside down for a brief, stomach-dropping moment before righting it again. You let out a gasp, your heart racing as you clung to the door for dear life.

“Trust me, love,” Anakin teased, glancing at you with that infuriating smirk that made your pulse quicken for reasons that had nothing to do with fear. He barely avoided another speeder and shouted something in Huttese at the other driver, his hands expertly maneuvering the controls.

The smirk was wiped off his face when, in his haste, he lost control of the speeder, sending it careening into the side of a building. The crash was loud, the front of the speeder crumpling as it slammed into the wall with a sickening thud. Smoke billowed from the engine, and the once-sleek body of the vehicle was now a twisted wreck of metal.

“Kriffing, Anakin!” you gasped, your heart pounding in your chest as the smoke began to clear. You turned to find him grinning, completely unfazed by the crash. His amusement was contagious, and despite yourself, you found your fear melting into laughter.

“Look, on the bright side,” Anakin said, chuckling softly as he reached out to squeeze your shoulder. “I didn’t kill us.”

“You’re an idiot,” you murmured, shaking your head but unable to stop the smile from tugging at your lips.

“But you love me,” he retorted with a cheeky grin, his blue eyes sparkling as you playfully pushed his face away. He caught your hand mid-motion, bringing it to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to your palm, then another to your wrist. The tender gesture sent warmth spreading across your cheeks, and your breath hitched as he held your hand just a moment longer.

“What do we do now?” you asked, stepping out of the speeder to assess the damage. More than half of the bodywork was crushed, and the engine continued to sputter and smoke.

Anakin didn’t hesitate. “We run,” he said, grabbing your hand as the distant wail of Republic droid guards grew louder. The sirens were closing in, and you didn’t have time to wait. With his fingers laced through yours, the two of you took off, darting through the crowded streets. You moved in sync, your Jedi training kicking in as you expertly wove through the mass of people, disappearing into the shadows whenever necessary.

When you finally reached the Jedi Temple, both of you were breathless, your backs pressed against the cool stone walls as you tried to catch your breath. The night was quiet now, the bustling streets of lower Coruscant far behind you, though the faint glow of the Halloween decorations still lingered in your mind.

Without realizing it, you had inched closer to each other. Anakin’s arm slid over your shoulder, pinning you gently against the wall, his gaze intense as his deep blue eyes locked with yours. You could feel the heat between you, your chest rising and falling in time with his. His eyes dropped to your lips, and your tongue darted out to wet them, the anticipation palpable.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” Anakin murmured, his voice low and rough as his eyes flicked between your mouth and your eyes.

You smiled softly, your heart swelling at the raw honesty in his words. “Would it be like a Halloween wish?”

Anakin chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Maybe. We could start our own tradition.”

The idea of a Halloween tradition made just for the two of you felt intimate, secretive in a way that only deepened the connection you already shared. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin as he leaned in.

“Only ours,” he whispered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You nodded, your breath hitching as his lips brushed yours softly at first, testing. But the kiss quickly deepened, his hand tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, his mouth moving against yours with growing passion. His kiss was a perfect mix of fire and tenderness, making the world around you fade until there was nothing but him—his warmth, his touch, and the way your heart raced in sync with his.

[harmonictechnicality]

Eddie's Memory Log: Day 30

part 1 here | part 2 here | part 4 here | part 5 here | part 6 here

(ao3 link here)

After one whole month of documenting Eddie Munson’s semi-fucked memory levels, Steve has come across a few crucial bullet points:

Eddie never forgets his own name.

If Eddie’s pain levels are bad, so are his memories.

Eddie likes the lime jello better than the chocolate pudding, except he always forgets.

Eddie’s memory is worse after the weekend, but it gets better throughout the week.

Eddie can hum the theme songs to all of the shitty soap operas (even on bad days).

Eddie’s memory is at its best if he’s had multiple visitors the day before.

And maybe the most important bullet of them all:

Eddie always remembers three people (Wayne, Dustin, and Steve).

Memory Log: Day 31

It’s Monday, which means Steve hasn’t seen Eddie all weekend. The knuckleheads and Hellfire lemmings take the weekend shift since they don’t have school. Steve should be grateful for the time off, but he can’t help but wonder how Eddie is feeling - if he’s throwing hissy fits or being confectionery sweet to all of his guests.

The curiosity and concern has settled its way into Steve’s routine during his days off. That’s just how it is.

And that’s exactly why Mondays are becoming Steve’s (secret) favorite day, despite Eddie’s brain managing the slightest soft-reset after the weekend.

“Is he a Hyde or a Kathy today?” Steve asks the nurse at the visitor check-in counter.

He knows the majority of the staff by now, and they’ve all adopted his Eddie Behavioral Lingo. Steve is getting far too cocky about being the hospital trendsetter.

“He’s um…” the nurse's gaze drifts up to Eddie’s door.

Shit. Steve bursts into the room because he already knows exactly what that translates to.

It’s a high-pain day. Eddie affectionately calls them Grendel Days - he finally decided to play along with their lackluster literary references.

Oh yeah… Eddie remembers Beowulf

“Hey, hero.” Steve speaks in a lower volume because loud noises are brutal on days like this. “I heard that Grendel crashed the party today, huh?”

Admittedly, Steve had Dustin retell the important chunks of Beowulf to him cause there’s no way in Nerd Hell that Steve was going to read that fantasy bible of theirs.

Eddie squints one eye open to look at Steve. “That son of a bitch is trying to slice open my goddamn kidneys, I swear.”

“Should I get my nail bat?”

“You’re what?”

Damnit.

Eddie remembers zero fucking percent about their monster battles (and it’s probably best to keep it that way while he’s still recovering).

“Not important.” It is but whatever. Best to just change topics. “Can I interest you in any pain distractions?” 

“What are you gonna do exactly - open your letterman jacket and offer me a lollipop?”  Eddie snorts at his own joke before slumping over, holding his sides.

Steve wags his finger at him. “See, that is karma for being so mean to me all the time.”

“That?”

“All this pain you’re having.”

“Actually, I think it’s because I’m some type of Demonic Tinker Bell.” Eddie offers, fake coughing into his hand. “If not enough people are calling me freak, I start to die.”

It’s just a joke, but Steve is not so keen on his friends joking about things like Mortality anymore.

Still, he laughs. Plays along easily. “All hail the freak.”

Eddie stops his fake coughing fit.

“And just like that, my wings of darkness have returned.” Eddie flicks his wrist theatrically, giving Steve the weakest smile. “See? Much better.”

But it’s not Much Better. Eddie spends the rest of the visit seething with internal pains. Switchboard style - one area inflicting jolts of throbbing agony, then another. Eddie grabs wherever it hurts the most. Sometimes he can’t touch every pain point, it’s just too widespread.

Maybe Steve should… No. He’s not sure his hands could stop the hurt any better. He’s not a doctor and he’s not fucking magic. Steve is just the guy that wears offensively bright sweaters and watches Eddie’s torture spectacle from a front row seat.

They don’t talk much after that. 

Eddie can’t talk through the pain. And apparently… neither can Steve.

Memory Log: Day 35

The pain has been monstrous all week long. They’ve had to plug Eddie’s heart monitor back in because his heart rate tends to skyrocket when waves of pain hit. It used to be easy to forget that Eddie suffered anything other than head trauma.

Not anymore. Not with his room beeping like a terminal metronome at all hours.

Steve stops asking Eddie’s novel-based behavior levels because he already knows the answer. Wishes he didn’t.

“Munson?” The lights are off, which helps with Eddie’s headaches. That’s good. Less pain in his head, behind his eyes. Small victories.

“Go home.” Eddie’s breathing sounds labored.

Steve settles into his chair anyways. “Can’t.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Me neither.”

“Steve, I swear.”

“Like a sailor.”

Eddie chuckles. “Hurts to laugh.”

Seeing Eddie like this is god awful. He should be shredding on his guitar or mocking Dustin senseless for his clashing pattern combinations. He shouldn't be wrapping his arms around his torso, confining the pain that’s mangling him from the inside out.

“We’ve gotta find a way to get Grendel out of your system, man.” Steve bends down to Eddie’s eye level. “Cause this fucking blows.”

Eddie opens both eyes this time - they’re so sunken in. “… Grendel?”

Shit no.

If Eddie’s pain levels are bad, so are his memories.

Steve tries again anyway. “You know… from Beowulf?”

“Sounds cool.” Eddie eye’s close again. “Are they a band?”

Eddie doesn’t remember Beowulf.

“You think everything sounds like a band name…” Steve mumbles, ignoring the disappointment pinging in his mind.

Eddie reaches for the guitar pick on his neck - one of his bandmates brought it by a couple weeks ago. He rubs his thumb over it as if he can transfer memories through fingerprints.

“Hometown Slut.” Eddie sends a sideways smile over towards Steve. “Snatching virginities and record deals.”

Okay. Fuck. Eddie remembers inside jokes. That seems like a big fucking deal.

Steve attempts to not overreact with this revelation. Avoid another hair ruffling/thumbs-up situation. “Did you have to use the word ‘snatch’ in your weird little slogan?”

“Oh the word choice was very unavoidable, Stevie boy.”

Steve shuts the notebook, focuses on keeping Eddie distracted from his pain. “What about your band?”

“What about it?”

“Do you remem…” Steve searches for another phrase. “Do you think you can tell me the name?”

“Alright, please stop treating ‘remember’ like it’s a dirty word.” Eddie whines. “I’m not the fucking cable version of Breakfast Club. Stop censoring yourself around me.”

“Right.” Steve opens the binder back up.

Eddie doesn’t remember…

“Corroded Coffin.” 

Phew. Eddie does remember his band.

“Do you remember what instrument you play?” Steve puts emphasis on the un-censored word.

“Accordion.”

“Be serious.”

“Polka is dripping in sincerity.”

Steve pinches the skin between his eyebrows. Truly, it’s impressive that Eddie can still manage to be a massive prick, even when he’s writhing in pain. It’s like he’s going for the goddamn gold medal of assholery.

“Guitar.” Eddie dangles the pick around, somewhat peeved. “Now can we chill with the third degree for today, officer?”

Steve notices Eddie’s monitor is beeping faster than it was when he first entered the room. That sobers him up from his irritation.

“Yeah, sure.” He sighs. “No more questions for today.”

Eddie cuts him a devious look. “Well I didn’t say that now, did I?”

“Huh?”

“Oh the vapid look is not nearly as cute as you think it is.” Eddie lifts himself up slightly from his stack of pillows. He flattens them out and into a pillow wall as he sits upright. “How about I ask the questions today?”

“Why? I’m not the one who’s struggling with brain stuff.” Steve walks over to give him a hand. Eddies seems to be struggling with his strength, which is to be expected after becoming a fucking bat buffet.

“That’s debatable.” Eddie mumbles.

Steve’s close enough to feel his breath as he pushes the pillows comfortably around Eddie’s new sitting position. 

It’s not weird, the close contact or the breath. Steve has been helping Eddie with gross shit for a month - holding his hair when he starts puking or coughing up blood. Unraveling him from tubes and cords because Eddie is notorious for twisting himself into a medical straight jacket with this shit.

It’s not weird… it’s just weird how aware Steve is of Eddie’s breath. How warm and jagged it feels, even through his layered clothes.

Maybe Eddie is aware too, because he starts breathing through his nose the longer the silence is drawn out between them. Steve finally takes a step back, creates a non-breath-touching distance once again.

“Humor me then.” Eddie fills the tense pause.

Steve crosses his arms. “Don’t I always?”

“No. Usually, you aggravate me.” But see, why do Eddie’s eyes get all shimmery when he says snarky shit? And why does Steve suddenly use words like shimmery to describe Eddie Munson?

Why does it remind him of those sequined dresses that girls wear to homecoming dances when Eddie’s eyes do that shimmery thing? It’s like his mind is taking the insults and turning them into compliments, which is so bizarre.

“Steve?”

Shit, right. Say something instead of thinking about Eddie’s sequined eyes, goddamnit. “Yeah?” 

Real original, asshole.

“Just… look.” Eddie taps his fingers against this side of his bed. “There’s sharp pains shooting through every fucking limb on my body right now. I just need a distraction today - not a pop quiz.”

Yeah, Steve offered the distraction idea at the beginning of the week. But really, that’s not what he’s here to do. He’s here for the kids. He’s here to fill his jobless life with a meaningful task. Help Eddie the way he couldn’t help him in the Upside Down.

But the kids have no idea what it’s like every day. How some days, they are friendly and comfortable with one another. How some days, there’s a verbal boxing match between them - and on those days, they’re both the losers.

How some days, Steve is the one getting flustered instead of Eddie (who’s usually being called out for staring at Steve’s hair or arms or whatever else his eyes decide to fixate on).

Nobody else knows how many climates this hospital room can hold. Nobody besides Steve and Eddie.

“Fine.” Steve decides after mulling it over for far too long. “I’ll be your distraction.”

“Careful, Steve.” Eddie breaks the non-breath-touching distance, poking Steve’s wrist. “You almost sound flattered.”

“Hardly.” Bad time to bring up the word hard - when they’re seesawing between taunts and flirtations. Thank god for the binder Steve’s holding, obscuring any part of his anatomy that could potentially betray his coolness at the moment.

“Go ahead, Munson.” Steve backs away from Eddie’s touch. “Ask your questions.”

Eddie runs the entire thing as if he were a late night talk show host. Uses his hospital side table as his interview desk. Pretends his empty jello container is his microphone. Calls Steve his ‘special guest’ the whole time. Steve scoots his chair right next to Eddie’s bed, just to keep up the talk show charade. 

An hour into it, they’re both feeding off one another’s energy and attention. Steve can tell by the way Eddie’s fingers unclench from his sides and his teeth stop gritting together, that his pain is subsiding - or perhaps it’s no longer at the focal point of his mind. His heart monitor is at a tempo that seems ideal - less fast and less choppy. More like a ballad than a pop song.

Eddie’s questions range from common to outright strange. He asks Steve shit like, ‘what’s your favorite breakfast food?’ And then follows it up with, ‘okay - but if you could only eat scrambled eggs for dinner, would they still be your favorite breakfast? Or does time of day play a vital role in your food preferences?’

“Does it fucking matter?” Steve rolls his eyes. More than annoyed by Eddie’s constant need to play devil’s advocate.

“Nothing matters, Harrington.” Eddie replies. “And please stop answering my questions with more questions. This isn’t a goddamn improv game.”

Eddie remembers how to be a pain in the ass.

Steve doesn’t write it down, doesn’t really need to. “What the hell is an improv game?”

“I swear to Johnny Carson, I’ll kick you off my show.”

“Whatever.” Steve isn’t any less confused, but what’s new. “I guess time of day does matter a little bit.”

“Ha! Knew it. You’re so predictable.”

“And you’re a fucking handful.”

“That’s high praise coming from such an esteemed guest of the show.” Eddie’s hand is splayed over his chest, over his heart. The heart that’s beating like a ballad and not a pop song according to his monitor.

Okay stop.

Steve knows this is a game. A shtick. So why is his face heating up? Why are his palms sweatier than they were twenty minutes ago? Why does Steve keep wondering what Eddie’s eyelashes feel like against his cheek when he flutters them in that overly dramatic way?

The clock interrupts his questioning. Probably for the best.

They exchange goodbyes. Eddie always gets a little concerned that Steve might not show up again. Steve always tucks his bitchiness away to reassure Eddie that he’ll be back on Monday.

It’s their routine. Not just Steve’s routine. It’s theirs now.

Memory Log: Day 38

It’s Monday. Soft-reset day. Steve’s new favorite day.

“Hey, Steve.” One of the nurses stops him on his way to Eddie’s room. 

Her name is Sam - Steve likes Sam the best because she lets him stay longer on days when Eddie feels his shittiest. She also gives him gum to help with his nerves. 

Hospitals do that sometimes. They just activate his nerves like glow sticks. Snapping and crackling the radioactive colors that make his stomach churn.

Anyways, the gum helps.

“What’s up?” Steve asks.

“Just wondering,” Sam gives him a pleasant smile. “Do we have a code for Eddie’s good days?”

“Good days?” They don’t hear that phrase often around here. “I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you should think of one.” She starts flipping through some files. “He’s been in great spirits for three days now.”

Three days? Steve rarely gets three hours of Eddie being in great spirits. The guy is a perpetual ghoul, so this is definitely something to celebrate.

Steve makes a pit stop to the vending machine. Grabs them a couple of root beers and candy bars for the occasion. Look, it’s not champagne and hors d’oeuvres, but it’ll suffice. Besides, Eddie doesn’t strike him as a ritzy kind of dude anyways. He’d probably make some joke like, ‘you mean to tell me that a whore made these d’ouevres?’

Jesus christ, Steve’s been hanging out with Eddie for too long.

“There’s my favorite lady killer.” Eddie is already grinning as Steve walks in the door. 

Still remembers Steve is a Hometown Slut (of all the things that would stick to his brain… why that?)

“Seriously, you look sharp today.”

Steve’s knees lock at the compliment. “Um. Thanks. So do you.”

And the crazy part is, he means that. There’s a peachy color returning back to Eddie’s skin. The bags under his eyes are a faded gray instead of an Almost Black. 

And his hair. Eddie’s hair is actually untangled. His curls are fluffed out, sort of feathery at the ends. Maybe somebody trimmed all of the dead pieces off because it looks... Well, it looks nice.

Steve kind of hates to admit that.

“Guessing your pain levels are better?”

“You guess right.” Eddie nods. “Whatever meds they gave me Friday night finally kicked Grendel’s lousy ass.”

Eddie remembers Beowulf again.

“Glad to hear it.” Steve is trying to process how great things are going. Eddie’s complexion. Eddie’s memories. It’s never this clear on Mondays. Steve tries to just be grateful to have a day like this, but he can’t help but wonder why.

Why now?

“Eggs for breakfast?” Eddie is fiddling with his necklace again.

Steve jerks his head up. “You… didn’t forget?”

“Don’t get too excited.” Eddie gestures to Steve’s pants. “Because I wish I could forget those ridiculous khakis that you always wear on Mondays.”

“Shit, really?”

“What’s the deal with that anyways?” Eddie’s nose scrunches up at the question. “Laundry day or something?”

“I…” Yes.

“Or do you think your ass just looks better in lighter colors?”

“Well…” Also yes.

Eddie winks. “Looks like your ability to complete a sentence is just as fucked as my memory, huh Stevie?”

Steve nervously runs his hands through his hair. “This is just a lot to process, sorry.”

And it is. Steve starts jotting everything down before he starts to forget:

Eddie remembers Steve’s favorite breakfast food.

Eddie remembers Steve wearing khakis on previous Mondays.

Eddie remembers Steve’s Memory Fucked inside joke.

Eddie remembers a shit ton about Steve.

Eddie remembers.

Very lightly, Steve scribbles on the corner of the page:

Eddie notices Steve’s ass…

The rest of the visit is pretty awesome, one of the best ones they’ve ever had. Eddie recalls practically everything from Friday, which is blowing Steve’s mind. They talk about his visit with Dustin on Sunday, and how excited Eddie is to see Wayne on Thursday. Steve doesn’t even bother with taking more notes because Eddie remembers it all.

They talk like real friends today. Friends that occasionally notice other friend’s asses or get lost in their sequined eyes, but still. It’s somewhere in the ballpark of friends, right? Whatever it is, it’s better than ripping each other apart with insults. That’s gotta count for something.

Eddie falls asleep an hour before visiting hours are over. He falls asleep still smiling from the last joke he told before dozing off. Steve studies his facial features because he can finally see more of them (Eddie’s bangs were trimmed too, thank god). 

He’s still pretty banged up. Cuts that overlap and bruises that change gradient the further up they spread. As if the softer parts of Eddie are still freshly wounded. That’s not how it works, Steve has been beaten up enough to know that people don’t bruise like fruit. Not really.

Steve can just see more of Eddie now, which is proving to be a dangerous road to travel down. Way too many detours to let his mind wander. Think. Overthink.

He thinks Eddie is attractive. That’s the detour he’s taking tonight. And if this person didn’t already occupy so much space in his mind, that detour might be more shocking to him. But it’s barely registering on the shock-meter.

Eddie’s unharmed features are highlighted in attractiveness against the purples and grays and reds. It’s almost impossible not to notice that he’s attractive when his face has this many colors. This much character.

Steve doesn’t know what’s going on. This could all be his exhaustion kicking in. Or maybe Eddie’s great spirits has twisted Steve’s outlook on things. Or maybe it’s an illusion from the Better Day they’ve shared together.

The only clear answer that Steve has right now is that Eddie remembers him. And that fucking means something.

Steve stops by to tell Sam the good news on his way out.

“I think he’s getting better.”

Sam nods once. “He definitely feels better, I’ll give you that.”

“Sure, but…” Steve begins. “I think his memory is getting better too. He remembers the littlest details about me.”

“Steve.”

“That’s huge, right?” Steve is so awestruck. “Like… I don’t know, Sam. Maybe he’ll get to go home soon.”

She doesn’t respond right away. Her eyes just keep shifting between Steve and Eddie’s door.

“I think I need to show you something.”

That can’t be good. Her tone is very, ‘speak with me after class, young man.’

They quietly walk back into Eddie’s room. Sam motions her head for Steve to approach Eddie’s bedside. Cautiously, Steve does.

She gently pulls back Eddie’s thin blanket, and Steve feels the air vacate his fucking lungs.

Eddie’s arms. There’s tape and IVs and tattoos and scars - all of the usual stuff. 

But then there’s writing. Eddie is covered in black ink, scribbled notes filling in all the gaps of his pale skin. Steve can’t make out most of the words - it’s all messy.

But there’s one word he spots over and over again.

‘Steve.’

It’s all messy, sure. But it’s all about him.

“Holy shit.” Steve whispers, quickly looking towards Sam. “Sorry, didn’t mean to swear.”

“No, that’s an appropriate response.” Of course she’d be cool about him swearing.

Without waking up Eddie, he begins to decipher the notes as best as he can: 

Scrambled eggs. Extra hold hairspray. Hyde or Kathy. Yellow sweater. Khakis on Mondays.

There are notes on things they haven’t talked about as well. Things that Eddie has just observed:

Steve visits Mon-Fri.

Steve laughs at all of your jokes, even the mean ones.

Steve applies chapstick when he’s nervous.

Steve will untangle your wires without making it weird.

The name Steve no longer sounds the same after reading it fifteen times over.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie.” Sam places a hand on Steve’s back. “It’s not that he’s remembering everything again.”

“Oh.”

“He just doesn’t want to forget you.”

No. That can’t be right. That can’t be possible. Of course Eddie knows who Steve is. Of course he does.

Steve finds a shitty excuse to get the hell out of this place. He’s polite about it because Sam is a kindhearted person, but this is so fucking unfair. Every last bit of it, down the last ink stain on Eddie’s nondominant arm.

Max isn’t awake. Eddie still has a skim-milk memory. Nothing has gotten better?

Well that shit ends today. Because whatever detour Steve’s mind discovered tonight, it’s leading him down a fucking freeway of tenacity. He’s fueled by whatever attraction or feelings he’s developing for Eddie. Whether it’s friendship or something more, it really doesn’t matter. Not after tonight.

Steve just cares about Eddie way too much to let his mind rot away like this. He’s too close, too connected to the problem to let it go unsolved forever.

As soon as Steve gets home, he calls Robin.

“Really, dingus?” Robin answers the phone like that. Annoyed and groaning already. “It’s late and I’m neck-deep in a John Hughes marathon.”

“It’s about Eddie.” Steve gets right to it.

“Is he okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh fuck.” She exhales loudly. “How can I help?”

“You’re friends with his bandmates, right?”

“Yeah, kinda. Why?”

Steve flips through the memory log. Locates one of his crucial bullet points:

Eddie can hum the theme songs to all of the shitty soap operas (even on bad days).

“I need you to ask them to make a mixtape of Eddie’s favorite songs.” Steve requests. “And it should be in chronological order. From stuff he liked as a kid, to stuff he’s into now.”

“Okay…” Robin pauses. “And you think this will help?”

“I don’t know.” Which is true, it could be a big waste of time. “But I’ve gotta try something.”

This might be dumb. But music helped them defeat(ish) Vecna. So there’s a possibility it could massage the knots in Eddie’s mind. Relax him enough to remember his life. All of it.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Steve adds before hanging up.

“What?”

Steve hits the accelerator on his freeway of tenacity.

“I need my fucking car back.”

[carniferous]

i need the dil bartylus thesis NOOOOWWW

bartylus is the failmarriage of ALL time to me i’ve spoken about this before but to me they contrast jegulus in that jegulus is a relationship with clear beginnings and ends. its tumultuous for sure but its tumultuous in a very defined way. jegulus cant be a failmarriage bc they’d get divorced. they’re too obsessed with defining what they are to each other bc they want it to be real and meaningful and it can’t be anything less than that

bartylus on the other hand…. they couldn’t define what they are to each other if they tried. they’re like the definition of settling for less but ‘less’ in this case is someone who understands you on a very a deep and fundamental level. perhaps better than anyone in the world. perhaps better than you understand yourself!! i wouldn’t say they’re ‘recognition of self in the other’ bc barty and regulus aren’t even other to each other…. they are each others homes and i mean in this context that both of these characters have the most fraught relationship with their respective homes imaginable. they want each other the way they want to go home (not at all — but also desperately). their relationship is inextricable from childhood. they hate to be reminded of their childhoods

and yet they’re not…. toxic per se! they’re obviously not healthy but they love each other in a way that’s very earnest (childlike). barty dreams of running away with regulus. he is the white knight rescuing the princess from the tower (he’s exactly like james in this respect). but unlike james barty doesn’t see running away as leading to a potentially better life for them….. he has no desire for freedom or salvation. barty just wants to do what he thinks will make regulus happier. and bc of this they will NEVER run away together bc regulus does want freedom. he does want salvation. he will never leave everything he knows unless he has the promise of something better, and barty can’t give that to him (and barty would see dishonesty about that as the greatest betrayal imaginable). so they never leave! they’re trapped together forever! stagnation! rotting! being seen this clearly is love but it’s also unbearable! there’s no mystery there’s no intrigue there’s just the cold acceptance of their fate and the comfort that at least they’ll bear it together except it’s no comfort at all because they COULD have escaped. just not with each other

and don’t even get me STARTED on brotherhusband barty…. there are like some obvioussss barty/sirius parallels and we’d be fools to think regulus doesn’t see them. to think regulus doesn’t want barty explicitly because “this person is like my brother if my brother wanted me” ?? regulus is someone who has lived his entire life wanting to be wanted come on…. he fucks barty because barty is like if regulus could somehow make sirius stay. and barty thinks this is sooooo sweet he indulges it he’s like “yeah reggie why would i ever leave you we’ve known each other since we were toddlers… we’re practically bro—” and then 5 minutes later regulus is sucking his dick and he’s like. wow look at regulus self-soothing! i’m such a good friend :)

in a modern setting they’re a category 5 situationship of unprecedented magnitude. like the picture you paint of regulus crying in his car after their 34th screaming-match breakup of the MONTH (how does this even happen. months only have 31 days max. were they timing it by the hour) is so perfect. ppl tell reg to see a therapist and he graciously does and after explaining it the therapist is like “do you think this might have anything to do with your childhood?” and regulus like “no?” and then proceeds to ghost said therapist bc on the way home from the appointment barty called and apologized and invited regulus over. regulus was like “okay but we’re not going to fuck” and barty is like “ofc not do you think i’m some kind of freak that i would be horny right now—“ cut to barty with regulus’s calves on his shoulders

[toasttt11]

additions

July 31, 2005

“Hay Hay!” Harrison called towards the stairs where Hayden was downstairs in the basement shooting pucks, “Come here please!” Harrison gently yelled so his daughter could hear him through the house.

“Coming!” A four year old Hayden yelled back from the basement, pouting slighty as she had to set her stick down and ran up the stairs seeing her Dad waiting for her.

Harrison smiled seeing his precious girl and picked her up spinning her around kissing her cheek rapidly making her giggle loudly.

Madison walked down the stairs seeing her loves laughing together, she smiled contently as she watched them, “Alright Har, put her down before she gets sick.” Maddison playfully chided her husband seeing her husband spin there daughter around multiple times.

“Mama!” Hayden beamed and the second her father let her down she ran right over to her mother making Madison pick her up.

“Hello Hayden Lee.” Madison hummed happily pressing a kiss to her daughter’s messy blonde hair.

“Come my darlings we have to meet the new neighbors.” Maddison softly spoke to her husband and daughter, they had saw a new family moving in next door to them and Maddison wanted to introduce themselves.

Hayden was set down and she grabbed onto her mother’s hand.

The family of three walked out of the house and over to the house next to them seeing the family standing outside the house, the family seemed to have three young boys and their parents.

“Hello.” Maddison kindly called out to their new neighbors, she was smiling kindly at the family.

“Hi!” The woman beamed walking over to shake Maddison and Harrison’s hands, “I’m Ellen and this is my husband Jim. And these are our three boys-”Ellen was interrupted by whom seemed to be the middle boy.

“OH MY GOSH!” The boy yelled looking at Harrison with starry eyes, “Your Harrison Blake! You won three stanley cups with the Edmonton Oilers and got the most goals ever scored in a playoff series and-“ The boy contained to ramble off facts making Harrison smile fondly.

Jim and Ellen shared a fond exasperated look because of their four year old, who is absolutely obsessed with Harrison Blake, who happened to now be their neighbor.

“That’s Jack. Sorry he gets excited.” Ellen fondly shook her head running a hand over Jack’s hair trying to calm him down.

“No worries it was very cool.” Harrison kindly reassured Ellen and Jim truthfully not minding at all and is quite use to that reaction meeting fan, kids especially, he playfully winked at Jack making him giggle.

Ellen smiled looking relieved and grateful, “This is Quinn our eldest and Luke our youngest.” Luke looked very young and seemed to just be walking and Quinn was very quiet and seemed content to watch.

“Do you play Hockey!” Hayden blurted out, she had been trying to not ask since Jack started rambling but she couldn’t wait no longer.

“I do!” Jack beamed looking excited, “Do you?” Jack looked at her like her answer would he the reason if they became friends or not.

“Of course i do!” Hayden scoffed looking offended it was even a question.

Hayden and Jack shared a look knowing immediately they were best friends now.

“Come on we can shoot pucks in the basement.” Hayden told Jack after looking at her mother for approval. Maddison smiled softly looking happy her daughter is making friends, especially since they have only moved to Toronto a few months ago after Harrison retired.

“Well what are we waiting for!” Jack beamed giddily and darted towards her house.

“You’ll come to?” Hayden asked softly looking at Quinn with her eyes wide and pleadingly, Any resolve Quinn might’ve had quickly crumbled from her puppy eyes, something that will become a regular occurrence from now on.

Quinn nodded. “Perfect!” Hayden beamed glad she is going to get another friend and leaned down to Luke’s level holding out her hand to the very young child.

Little Luke beamed and grabbed her hand holding it tightly with his little hands as she linked arms with Quinn and led the two towards her house seeing Jack waiting for them.

“And that’s our Hayden.” Maddison let out a fond laugh once the kids all walked away after Hayden managed to get all of them to join and she introduced her daughter to their new neighbors.

Ellen and Jim shared a look very suprise at how easily Hayden was able to win over all three of their boys hearts especially with Quinn not liking many people and Luke just grumbles at most people he meets.

Ellen had a feeling the Blake’s especially Hayden were going to be very special and important to their family.

“Do you play hockey too Quinny?” Hayden softly but curiously asked as she walked with Quinn and Luke to Jack.

Quinn blinked in suprised from the nickname she has already given him, “I do.” Quinn answered quietly still a little confused why he is so comfortable around this little girl already.

“What about you Lukey? Do you like hockey?” Hayden softly asked little Luke.

Luke looked up at Hayden with a beaming smile and clapped his hands, “Hockey.”

Hayden giggled at Luke’s answer as Quinn smiled.

“Finally!” Jack dramatically exclaimed from where he was sitting on the front porch of the Blake’s house, waiting for his new best friend, who had also brought his two brothers.

“Come on silly.” Hayden teased Jack softly as she opened the door to her house leading the three boys inside and to the stairs that lead to her basement.

“Woah!” Jack mumbled in awe as he looked around her shooting room, it was like a mini hockey rink, it was so awesome.

Hayden just shrugged as her dad had designed the hockey room and he uses it just as much as she does.

Hayden handed Quinn and Jack both a hockey stick that was roughly around their size and then she grabbed one of her mini sticks to Luke, who looked more content to try and chew on the stick.

It was the first of many times the four were together in the Blake’s hockey room, the room became the spot that all four of them would always goes to and if any of the parents would try and find any of them it was not surprising to find them there.