#( all the autumn potential i've missed out on )

[clochanamarc]

i just made a cinnamon apple loaf cake and i posted it on instagr.am with the dawning realization that like. it's already the end of october. and i only just spiced up a cake. what is this? what year is it? where am i? WHY am i--

#( OUT OF SOULS. ) #( like ) #( in two months i'll be getting ready to go home for the holidays ) #( whaT IS HAPPENING ) #( i have to bake so many cakes rn oml ) #( all the autumn potential i've missed out on ) #( ginger cake! plum tart! rhubarb crumble! )

[promitto-amor]

When the real baby comes

King Caspian X You

Summary: When King Caspian's wife is missing one morning, Caspian sets out to track her down after hearing some surprising news. (Post the Dawn Treader)

Warnings: None! Quite fluffy!

I couldn't have jumped fictional men more than going from Mark Hoffman to Caspian, but here we are far down the rabbit hole of one of my old childhood crushes. I've never written anything for Caspian so it was time to do him justice. Plus KING Caspian just does something to me. There is soooo much potential for him!

Caspian always missed his Queen’s warmth whenever she chose to wake before him. Rolling onto his back, the left side of the bed was cold, the pillow still at a diagonal from where the Queen had slept. His hand runs over the sheet as his mind wanders to just what could have lulled his wife from Caspian’s arms. Most likely an early morning ride, but you could do that any day. Perhaps you’d gone to make breakfast as you were sometimes inclined to do. Maybe you’ll come striding in with a picnic basket, ready to invite Caspian out to the shores of Cair Paravel.

It is a Sunday after all, the one day you and Caspian always dedicate to each other. It would be nice to spend one of the last days of Autumn on the beach before it gets too cold to enjoy it.

Caspian lets the daydreams linger as he fully comes round for the day. There is still no sign of you, and so Caspian pulls back the duvet, pushes back his hair and attempts to face the day. At lease Sundays mean no holding court and there are no diplomatic guests to host this week. It’s a rare day that is entirely Caspian’s own and he intends to spend it with his wife.

There is a note left on the bedside table, that’s more like his Queen. Caspian reads it with one hand while he pulls out a dark shirt and matching pants to wear for the day.

You’ve gone out with the wolves, again? That makes it seven times in one month, which is generally excessive. What would be so important that you couldn’t wait to tell him in person?

Shrugging on boots and an overcoat, Caspian sticks his head out of the Royal Quarters, “Trufflehunter?” There’s a small cough from an armchair a short way down the corridor, near the stairs. “I know you’re there.” Caspian stands in the doorway, hands resting on his hips.

“My King,” The badger comes shuffling to greet him, dropping his head in a show of respect, “Good Morning.”

“I hope it will be,” Caspian glances behind the badger, but no one else is with him, “The Queen left me a note saying she’s out with the wolves. I know that means you’ve seen her today.”

The badger appears to be acting sheepish, “Well…yes.” He says, “You know how the Queen is, my King. There is no persuading her to wait when her mind is set on something.”

“Did she tell you what is so important that she’s out with the pack again?”

“She said she was getting in some training with the youngest cub.” Trufflehunter is fiddling with his fingers, “After all, no one has a way with the wolves like Her Majesty does.”

Caspian hand comes to rub at his face, “Yes she has mentioned that, but why does she not wish for me to join her? Don’t think I haven’t noticed she likes to go out when I’m preoccupied, or having a rest.”

“I’m certain you do so much for Narnia, that rearing wolf cubs is the last of your priorities.”

Caspian can’t quite fight back his sigh as he sags against the doorframe, “Alright time to come clean, old friend.”

The badger sputters at once, “Your Majesty?”

“What is she hiding?”

“Nothing!” But on a stern look from Caspian the badger crumbles, “If I am entirely honest with you, I don’t quite know.” Trufflehunter’s nose droops in the direction of the carpeted floor, “Her Majesty has been acting suspicious as of late. Last night Trumpkin found her ensuring her tack was prepared, most likely for today’s excursion.”

“She’s taken Tempest?” Caspain’s alarm begins to rise, “Why are they going so far as to need her horse?”

“Wolves run fast?”

Caspian’s had enough, if Trufflehunter will only give him half-answers then Caspian will go to his next source. The badger hurries after him as Caspian takes long strides towards the breakfast room. Seated at the long table, Trumpkin the Dwarf drops his toast on his beard on seeing the King’s expression, “I told her to wait for you!”

“What is she up to?” Caspian doesn’t bother with a greeting, he and Trumpkin go too far back to bother with niceties.

“You know what’s she’s like with those bloody wolves.” Trumpkin resumes buttering his toast, “Obsessed with them. I know how much she did to make the Narnians accept the wolves again after the White Witch, but they got on fine before she started hand rearing them herself. Wild animals, aren’t they, even if they do talk.”

“There’s more to this than either of you are letting on.” Caspian deduces, catching the look Trumpkin sends Trufflehunter between Caspian’s legs. He takes a measured breath, aware of the other Narnians present at the breakfast table, including Lord Bern. “My Apologies,” Caspian offers.

“A runaway Queen, dear Aslan my boy.” Lord Bern shakes his head, “Could it be something you have said or done?” Caspian thinks back, “No…I don’t think so?”

Had he, was his Queen off galavanting with her wolves because of him?

“No,” Trumpkin is quick to interject, “No, no nothing like that! She just said that she wants to practise with the littlest cub, so that she’s ready for when the real baby comes.”

Silence falls as Trumpkin’s eyes widen. His hand slaps over his mouth as Caspian’s adrenaline surges into overdrive. He looks back to Trufflehunter to find the badger too is glowering at the dwarf, “Well done.” The badger rolls his eyes, “A fine way to tell him.”

Lord Bern rises from his seat, “My King…”

Caspian’s body feels like lead, his feet trip over one another as he tears out of the breakfast hall, “Excuse me, Lord Bern!” He shouts, breaking into a run. Caspian knows he must look a stare, running through the halls of his castle, out onto the grounds and practically slamming open the stable doors.

Destrier lifted his head lazily, “What’s got you so upset?” The horse asks, watching as Caspian seizes the nearest saddle.

“We need to find the Queen.” Caspian’s voice is the one he uses when leading into battle. It’s a tone Destrier picks up on straight away, as the horse doesn’t complain when Caspian fixes his bridle in place and swiftly mounts him.

“Which way?” Destrier asks and Caspian pauses, stricken for a moment. Would you go North to Owlwood, or South near the Rush River?

If you were training a wolf cub, Caspian is certain you would want to end up near the Dancing Lawn, or perhaps pay your respects at the Stone Table? He sets off heading South and vows to ride until he finds you.

Once they are out of Cair Paravel and the surrounding villages, Destrier wrinkles his nose, “I smell wolves.” He calls, “We’re on the right track.”

“Good,” Caspian calls, pushing Destrier into a full gallop. “I hope you’re ready for quite the ride, my friend. My wife doesn’t exactly keep near the castle.”

“She’s as bad as you!” Destrier returns.

Over an hour into their ride, Caspian hasn’t seen any sight of you. Destrier continues to follows the wolves air scent, which is good enough for now. Caspian’s kept busy by the whirlwind of thoughts rattling through him. Finally, when they are almost at the Dancing Lawn, Destrier whinnies. A wolf is padding along through the grass, unable to camouflage itself amongst the crunchy Autumnal leaves. As Caspian’s eyes peer through the trees, more wolves come into sight till finally Caspian spies Tempest, your blindingly white horse walking dutifully by your side.

You’ve heard Caspian’s noisy arrival, as he slows Destrier to a stop beside you, “Caspian?” His name leaves your lips as he swings a leg off Destrier and drops onto the ground, “What on Earth are you doing following me?”

“Is it true?” He’s panting so hard he can barely get the words out. You come to a stop, one hand wrapped around a golden lead. On the other end is a snow white wolf cub, barely twelve weeks old.

“Is what true?” You ask, bewildered at the sudden appearance of your winded, sweaty husband.

Caspian glances at the wolves, who have started to inch closer to their friend. Caspian knows they would never hurt him, not since becoming friends of Narnia, but it’s still disconcerting to have your entire pack’s eyes on him. He takes you gently by the arm, “Are you pregnant?”

Caspian’s question sends a ripple through the animals. The wolf closest to the cub, one Caspian knows as Dara comes to stand by her cub on instinct, while your horse, Tempest inhales loudly beside you. Caspian cares for no one’s reaction but your own. Your mouth falls open softly, “Who told you that?”

“Trumpkin said you were out here practising.” Caspian takes your hands in his own, the cub’s lead dropping amongst the leaves. “You must know you don’t have to run from me, or feel like you can’t tell me.”

“Caspian,” You begin, but Caspian has to get it out.

“I know we haven’t spoken about it much, but I would be more joyful than-”

“Caspian.” You say laying a hand on your husbands chest. Your firm tone combined with your touch is enough to settle Caspian just to hear your answer.

Your eyes soften further, sympathy shining through as your hand runs up his chest to cup his cheek. He doesn’t expect the plummet his heart takes as Caspian can read the answer on your face, “I’m not pregnant.” You murmur, thumb stroking his stubbled cheek.

He maintains the eye contact and you don’t break it, “You’re certain?”

“We would smell if the Queen was with child.” Dara says, nosing at her own cub. “She would smell stronger.”

Your other hand takes Caspian’s own and lead him away from the pack, behind a large Hickory tree, “You came riding all this way, because you thought I was pregnant?”

“You have been out with the wolves often, I have noticed.” Caspian insists, clutching to his reasoning which seems wild now he thinks on it. “Trumpkin said you were practising for when the real baby comes.”

“Ah,” You bite the inside of your cheek, “I can see where he became confused.” You say, your tone still annoying gentle. “I am out working with the wolves, but not because I’m expecting. If I was with child Caspian, I promise you that you would be the first to know. I wouldn’t leave you clueless.”

Caspian swallows, working through the information, “Trufflehunter also seems to believe you are.”

“Those two spend most of their mornings gossiping together.” You roll your eyes, pushing some of Caspian’s unruly hair out of his eyes, “You should hear what they say about the Dryads.”

Caspian allows you to gently fuss over him. Your touch never fails to calm him as his arms wrap around your waist and his nose buries into your neck. You hold him tight and Caspian tries to push down the swell of loss he feels. You pick up on it anyway, placing a kiss to his lips, “You are the best husband I could ever ask for.” You assure him, “You rode like a madman to come track me down.”

“I had to know.” Caspian says, “I was ready to tell you off for riding.”

“Oh don’t start.” You push him away lightly, “You’d better not become a helicopter father or I’ll start getting truly sneaky.”

He catches your hand in his and pulls you back into his arms, “I’m sorry for startling you.” Caspian murmurs, “You must have thought something had happened.”

“For one horrible moment.” You nod, letting your fingers play with his hair. Caspian’s eyes slip shut, taking in your body and your warmth once again. Around him nature calls with life, the wolves padding impatiently on the ground, the rustle of leaves in the wind and the playful whispers of the trees.

“Hang on,” Caspian pulls back enough to see your face, “So if it wasn’t us, what’s the ‘real thing’ you’re practising for?”

You glance from your husband to Dara. The wolf mother nods, her cub’s lead now between her teeth. You walk over and take the offered lead back into your hand, the white wolf cub bounding along beside you as you begin to walk again. “You know I have a bit of a habit for rearing what some would call dangerous animals.”

Caspian falls into step with you, “A bit?” He jokes, “Between wolves, marsh-wiggles and sprites. If it hadn’t been trying to kill us, I’m sure you’d have jumped off the Dawn Treader and tried to befriend that Sea Serpent.”

You wrinkle your nose and with a gesture of your hand, the wolves reform their hunting formations, spreading out across the woods, “Well I might have found something that may just beat out a sea serpent.”

You lead the way for another fifteen minutes or so in the direction of Aslan’s How. A route Caspian has become less familiar with than years ago, nostalgia fills him as you tread across the open field towards the great tomb. The land still bears the odd mark of battle, craters where Caspian’s grand ambush plan had succeeded litter the once flat field and tree roots wind across some of the gaps, forming bridges one with good balance could walk across. Caspian expects you to stop near the entrance, “What are we doing here?” Caspian didn’t even know you knew of the How, never mind what this place had meant for Caspian. Sanctuary, security, victory. You hadn’t been present in Narnia when Caspian made his stand against his Uncle Miraz. Back then you had been nothing more than a legend, imprinted on the walls of the how. 

The How is continually lit by torchlight, a feat no one quite knows how or why. Caspian assumes old magic, the presence of the Great Lion himself still within the walls of such a sacred place. You venture into the narrow corridors, but you don’t head towards the Stone Table, instead you veer right. “I wanted to keep it somewhere warm, but protected.” You turn to Caspian, “You can feel the magic in the air here. Aslan still watches over.”

“Not as much as you.” For Caspian never felt as in tune with the Great Lion as his wife did. His fingers run past a mural of the Kings and Queens of Old, past a more recent mural Caspian never remembers seeing before. A White Knight faces down the White Witch’s wand. Caspian’s stomach flips as he catches the familiar hair which streams from the figure’s helmet. “It’s you,” He murmurs. “The first time you were in Narnia.”

“And the second,” You point to another mural, there you are again dressed in your signature white battle armour. This time on a parapet of the old Cair Paravel, a horn raised in one hand against the army of Trechebuchets Caspian’s ancestors had used to destroy the castle during their invasion. You don’t pay it much heed, instead you keep pressing deeper into the tomb. “I do wonder when another will show. There’s much the walls could document from our adventures at sea.”

As you come to a stop, Caspian realises the wolves haven’t followed you both inside the tomb. It’s just the King and his Queen. 

He peers over your shoulder as you kneel down before a nest of hay. He watches your hands disappear and remove an egg from the hidden hay pile. “What is that?” He breathes.

“I’m not entirely sure,” You admit, “But based on the scales and size, I have a good guess.”

Caspian stares at the egg you hold out for him. It’s the largest he has ever seen, not that Caspian has seen many eggs larger than a chickens in his lifetime. His eyes flick to yours and that sickening feeling is back, “It can’t be.”

Your eyes are dancing with excitement, “I think so.”

“No,” Caspian takes a step back, “They…The mother would never leave it.”

“I saw her.” You say, “You know there’s been more and more poachers as of late. Calormens stepping onto our lands, wanting to harvest the creatures magical properties. I saw her fly off, if she wasn’t being persecuted then she would never have left her egg.”

Caspian’s mouth drops open, “Is that what you’ve been doing?” He asks, “You’ve been out looking for a dragon?”

“That’s why I took the wolves.” You say it so simply, so easily. “They’ve been helping me track her. We think she’s near Underland.”

Caspian takes your face between his hands, “What do you plan to do when it hatches?”

You answer is evident, “Only until we can reunite the baby with it’s mother.”

“The dragon books in the library.” Caspian pinches the bridge of his nose, “I thought you were just interested in the legends. That’s all I thought they were, legends.”

“You saw Eustace as a dragon, did you not?” Sarcams fills you voice, “You know as well as I do that dragons are very much real and exist in Narnia.”

“Then why haven’t we seen them?”

You don’t have much of an answer, “Look what’s happened to the first one we have.” You say, “Hunted for her scales and goodness know what else.”

It’s your turn again to assuage your spouse. You place the egg carefully back amongst the hay pile and cover it up again, “Do you trust me?”

“You know I do.”

“Then you have to know that I won’t let this go.”

Caspian rolls his head back in a slow circle, “No, you won’t.” He meets your eyes and barely holds back his own smile at your excitement. “But we are finding the mother and you are giving that egg to her as soon as possible.”

You nod, happy now you’ve got your way. “I’ll gladly welcome the help dispatching the poacher groups along the way too.”

“You will be the death of me.” Caspian grumbles, as you wind your arms around his waist and place a kiss to his cheek. “If I didn’t admire your heart so much, I’d leave you here in the woods where you belong.”

“You made me your Queen,” You almost sing, “You can’t get rid of me now.” You wind your arms back around Caspian’s neck, “And who’s to say that once we’ve reunited baby and mother dragon, we can’t get to work on our own baby?”

#king caspian #caspian x #the chronicles of narnia #narnia #prince caspian #king caspian x you #king caspian x reader #prince caspian x reader #trufflehunter #trumpkin #you are a queen of narnia #caspian's wife

[hearts-hunger]

Welcome to the 2023 GVF Fic Writers Halloween Event! Prompts are below the cut, but first, some info about this very spooky affair.

٭ The rules are simple: pick a prompt from the list below and write a fic about it! The prompts range from particularly Halloween-y to just general autumnal vibes, and you're welcome to riff off any of them in any way you choose. On your post, please note which prompt (or prompts) you picked for your fic!

٭ This event is open to all GVF writers, whether you're a seasoned vet or a first-time writer! If you're a reader, show your love for GVF writers by liking their fics, reblogging them, and commenting in the reblog or even just in the tags. All fics from this event will be reblogged by me and added to a masterlist that will be linked in my bio!

٭ Fics can be written for any and all pairings — x reader, slash, platonic, x oc, multi, whatever you like! It's also open to any length fics (blurbs, oneshots, series) and all genres, from vampire sexy to candy sweet to scary movie spooky and everything in between. Please make sure to clearly tag any potential triggers in your fic — we want this event to be accessible and fun for everyone. Please also use a readmore in any fics that are longer than blurb length, just to keep the dash tidy.

٭ Absolutely no negativity will be tolerated, whether from readers, writers, or anyone else. This is a community-building event, and if you're not here to have fun and be kind to others, don't be here at all.

٭ Tag your fics with #gvfhalloweenfics. To make sure I don't miss your fic, please tag me (@hearts-hunger) so I can reblog your fic and add it to the masterlist!

٭ The deadline is technically October 31st, but I'm happy to add fics to the masterlist any time before or after Halloween if your creative energy is grooving or lagging. You can also write as many fics as you want!

٭ Now that I've talked your ear off, let me say one last thing before we get to the prompts: my asks (with anon) and dms are always open for any questions about this event! Please reblog this post to get the word out, and tag any writers you think might be interested! Happy writing, and happy Halloween!

1. carnival haunted house 2. real haunted house 3. pumpkin patch 4. apple orchard 5. scary movie night 6. campfire ghost stories 7. baking halloween treats 8. carving pumpkins 9. trick or treating 10. decorating for halloween 11. making costumes 12. putting on halloween makeup 13. halloween bar crawl 14. ghost hunting 15. monster/ghost/witch au 16. county fair 17. halloween party 18. exploring a graveyard 19. adopting a black cat 20. playing with a ouija board 21. buying halloween decor 22. dark magic 23. a walk through the woods 24. cosy coffee date 25. camping trip 26. hay ride 27. local oktoberfest 28. cabin vacation 29. halloween/autumn wedding 30. starting a new halloween tradition 31. fic based on a halloween song

#if this flops literally it didn't ever happen so <3 #but i hope it won't!!! <333 #gvfhalloweenfics #gvf fic writers halloween event

[timewontwait]

oh hi.

i'm putting my rp blogs on hiatus! how long? don't know! i've already really dipped in online activity the past 4ish months primarily due to a mix of overall burn out + irl things coming to the forefront of my focus. i'll be moving in the next couple months into an apartment, which means i'll be switching to a fulltime job at some point soon. that coupled with other irl things means i'll be pretty absent on basically all my rp blogs.

reflecting a bit here, i've definitely slowed down a lot in terms of tumblr roleplay over the years and i feel i've finally hit my ceiling.

i still really enjoy this hobby, but i've grown tired with doing it on tumblr specifically. i feel there is this impossible urge i have to keep up with everything going on with my mutuals and their characters driven by fear of missing out on potential roleplay opportunities that it becomes discouraging the more and more i'm faced with it and can't meet the expectations i set for myself. it's something i've dealt with before in the past, and it was something i was dealing with before i started becoming less and less present on here back in autumn, among other things. and i think the fact i've been less anxious and more at peace since distancing from the tumblr rp scene is a sign i should definitely listen to what my gut is telling me.

so i will be taking a proper, official break. and i think when i am ready and in a position to properly come back, whenever that may be, i'll likely be remaking and moving my sonic blogs to a multi for convenience sake.

this ISN'T a goodbye, though. i'll still be available on discord and will be lurking in the servers i'm in, and i'll probably still occasionally pop on one of my rp blogs for the occasional goof in my down time. BUT for the time being, in terms of proper roleplay - i'm gonna be restricting that to discord only.

you're welcome to ask for my discord, if you'd like to keep in contact (but i will be selective with who i give it to). i've been kind of a social hermit lately though i'm trying to NOT be that and interact with people again.

if you read this far, hey thanks! i don't really know what to close this out with other than enjoy the rest of your day/night.

#🌀 — later guys! i’m outta here. ❪ ooc. ❫ #update

[madaboutmunson]

Policy Of Truth

This is a Steddie One-shot fic I wrote in January, its been on Ao3 since then but I've not posted it here before, so here it is :)

Warnings: Violence, blood, weapons, death, homophobia

Summary:

After saving the world, everyone heads home, but not everyone has a place to go back to. Realising that they potentially could have lost their son Mr & Mrs Harrington, make an effort with Steve and open their those in need. But its not just friendships blossoming at The Harrington's, and soon Eddie and Steve have a secret to keep.

Words : 11,265

AO3 Link

That Autumn was everything. 

That's the only line Steve has written so far. He stares at it and leans back in his chair, running his hands through his hair, sighs and closes his eyes to sink back into his memories.

After Hawkins and the surrounding area were essentially obliterated, despite them defeating the big bad and living to tell the tale, they all had to move.

Mr & Mrs Harrington obviously had wasted no time finding a new property. Steve wasn't sure if it was because it was the first time since all this otherworldy stuff had started, and his parents actually knew he could have died, that it made them actually pay attention to him.

It wasn't just attention, though. There was compassion, quality time, conversations, kindness, and maybe even love? Well, what they were capable of anyway. He knew he shouldn't have been so swept away by it, he should have given them a taste of their own medicine, but hadn't he always wanted that?

This foundation-shaking event hadn't just birthed care and understanding for Steve, though. It extended to the people who he cared about and who cared about him when his parents hadn't been around. Looking back over it, a lot of that could have guilt or shame, as with everything they plastered over the cracks with money and gift ribbons.

His friends had all relocated nearby, too. They had learned the hard way they were stronger together. Apart, bad things happened, like Dustin getting hurt, Max in a coma or Eddie dying. Well…for a few minutes.

Eddie loved dropping that into a conversation "You know, I died once?", "The world just couldn't bear to be without Eddie Munson for longer than two minutes", or "I've looked death in the eyes. I'm not afraid of a little family dinner!"

Eddie…Steve missed him so much.

The house the Harrington's purchased had quite a bit of land, and when Steve told his parents that Eddie and Wayne's home had been completely destroyed, and Max's Mom had nowhere to stay either, they made them room. Two brand-new trailers were on their land until they found their feet.

Max's Mom found a place closer to the hospital after about two weeks, Wayne followed suit a few weeks later to be closer to his new job, but Eddie stayed. 

To the surprise of most, he got on really well with Steve's parents. Ever polite, always charming, engaged then in conversation, and even knew when to take an L to keep the peace. Eddie was a hands-on person, mainly because he had to be. Mr & Mrs Harrington were not. They could always get some help in. 

Eddie would offer to help out and save them some money, he knew they didn't need that, but it was his only way of repaying their kindness.

So he would fix things around the new house, offer some advice and even carry out repairs on the household vehicles, and sometimes he'd help out in the kitchen.

Mr Harrington appreciated these gestures, and Eddie made it look so easy that even Steve would join in sometimes. He explained everything to Steve without a note of superiority. 

The person Eddie helped most was Steve's Mom. She was trying her hardest to be the woman in the pages of good housekeeping immediately, but as Eddie explained, "That's not such an easy leap when you've moulded yourself into a very successful bull-busting woman of business.". 

Countless times over the summer, Steve had caught his Mom in tears over something in the kitchen, and seconds later, in he'd run, hair tied back, apron on, finding a way to fix it, or trying to work out what could have gone wrong. 

Whatever it was, he would have her laughing and wiping her tears away in minutes by carving off the burnt bits of meat, chucking them out of the window, over his shoulder and draping the roast in some other deli meat, or poking at a very bizarre souffle that had the same texture as The Blob and pretending to get his hand eaten by it.

All of this was no surprise to Steve, though. Maybe due to his past, Eddie adapted quickly, despite loathing change, and he had a heart of gold. He couldn't sit idly by when people were suffering, not if he could do something about it. 

Eddie knew the Harrington's did not have a history of being especially good people, but they looked like they were trying at least, and that was good enough for him to give them a chance. 

Chances made room for change, but the Harrington family dynamics weren't the only things changing at home.

In those few weeks, things were changing between Steve and Eddie too. All those flirtatious quips, grazing touches, lingering looks and quick smiles that happened around their friends sometimes started to happen when no one was around.

And when Wayne moved out, Eddie had a whole trailer to himself. Those flirtatious quips turned into compliments, those grazing touches into gentle ones, the lingering looks into soft stares, and those quick smiles into coy ones.

Then Summer came to a close, and Steve's parents had to spend time away for work again, and previously that would leave Steve in a cold, empty, soulless house, and he'd have to call around for people to spend time with him to stop the loneliness setting in.

Not this time, though.

"Now you boys behave, ok? If you need anything, anything at all, or something happens, just call one of us, and we'll be sure to sort it out in a jiffy," Mrs Harrington calls over with her hands on her hips, "Are you even listening to me, Steven?"

Eddie and Steve lean on either side of the doorway as Mrs Harrington puts her hand luggage into the trunk as Mr Harrington loads the suitcases.

Steve was only half listening. He was too busy thinking about what would happen when their car drove away, and this door was shut, and it would be just the two of them. Just him and Eddie, all the way until Christmas.

"He's off daydreaming again, Mrs H" Eddie beams a megawatt smile at her and gives Steve a hard locker room backhand in the gut with a laugh, which in turn makes Mr Harrington laugh and shake his head.

"Sorry, Mom. Yeah, if anything, I'll call, promise. If I can get to the phone before golden boy over here, that is." he gives Eddie a hard thump on the arm.

Eddie gives a theatrical "Ow" and rubs his arm, earning Steve an approving nod from his Father, who had utterly missed Eddie's quick sultry side glance and lick of his lips.

Mr Harrington shuts the car door for Mrs Harrington and walks back over to Eddie and Steve at the door for a final set of hushed instructions. 

He puts a hand on each of their shoulders, "Now boys, I was your age once. I know as soon as we get down the street, you'll be inviting round a bunch of fine nubile tail, calling the guy who'll hook you up with drugs or a keg, and I understand. I really do. You've only got one life. Live it right before you get tied down, yeah?" 

Mr Harrington laughs, shakes his head, and leans in to whisper, "All I'm asking is you play smart, play safe in the end zone, ok?" He laughs with a knowing smirk on his face. "Don't go raising hell all over town, alright, or getting involved with criminals and such ok? I've stocked the garage for you and left you the numbers of my guys if you need refills, alright?" He gives them a wink, "And also, make sure it's tidy for when your mother gets home, and all evidence is removed, ok? I'll give you a warning call."

"When you say stocked…." Eddie's eyes are wide, and he has a massive grin.

"Oh, I mean, there are at least a few parties worth of beer, wine, liquor, champagne, cigarettes and a few cigars down there and, of course, our friend Mary Jane" he squeezes their shoulders, looking between them both.

Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at Steve, who smirks back at him and adds, turning to his Father, "Thanks for trusting us, Dad. We won't let you down." 

Mr Harrington gives them both a hard pat on their faces, "That's my boys. Go easy on the ladies, huh?" He says with a wink and walks back to the car.

They wave goodbye, and Steve sees, for the first time that he can remember, his Mom is crying as they drive away.

Once that door closed, nothing immediately happened, much to Steve's disappointment. Nevertheless, he was sure there was something there. 

Eddie suggests they do indeed throw a party, but tonight, they invite everyone, and they do. It's a blast seeing everyone and having fun together, catching up on their news, dancing, laughing and acting like crazy teenagers who did not have a care in the world.

Then the last guest leaves, and Eddie rushes around the place tidying up.

"Dude, it's late! Seriously leave it for tomorrow." Steve waves a hand at Eddie, who is not listening to him at all. Annoyingly He's barely looking at him. He's barely looked at him all night. Steve sighs and puts on the TV, and leaves him to it. 

About an hour later, the place is immaculate again, like nothing had even happened. A waft of cleaning products and the TV blinks off. Before Steve can even address what is happening, Eddie is straddling his lap, kissing him, gripping onto his polo shirt, white knuckle tight, pulling Steve to him.

Eddie pushes Steve back into his seat, still gripping his clothes and just looks at him and waits.

Steve swipes Eddie's hands from his shirt roughly, and Eddie looks at the ground, "Fuck!" He says with a sigh and starts to stand up.

Steve grabs Eddie's vest and wrestles him down, pinning him to the sofa with a much more frantic kiss of his own.

When Steve finally moves away, both panting, analysing one another's faces. Eddie grins and laughs, breaking the tension. Soon the same happens to Steve too.

"Ok, so that worked better than I expected. I've been wanting to do that for weeks" Eddie beams up at him and sits up, forcing Steve to kneel up on the sofa next to him.

Steve looks at him curiously and folds his arms, "But we could have been doing this the whole night. Did you want the party to get me drunk, Eddie?" He playfully pokes him.

"Oh god no," Eddie says, running his hands up Steve's arms and neck, landing softly on either side of his face. Eddie's thumbs brush his cheeks, "I only had one drink all night, a Whiskey, I just downed for courage" His eyes go to Steve's mouth, and his thumb brushes over his lips, "I just wanted to get everything out of the way."

"Out of the way?" Steve asks. No longer is he swimming in Eddie's dark chocolate irises. Instead, he's drowning in them.

Eddie gives him a small kiss, "I just wanted", another, "to have you", another, "all", another "to myself", another, but this one lingers.

"But you could have had that anyway," Steve says, confused, "All night."

Eddie tilts his head, smiles and lets out a series of tuts before saying in sweet, high-pitched condescension, "Tonight? No Steve. Not just tonight." 

He pushes one of his hands into Steve's hair with a small shuddering breath, his voice returning to its standard low register. "I knew those little assholes would be begging every day for a party at a parent-free house. Well, now they've had it. I painfully let them have those first few hours, and by cleaning up, there is nothing that requires your attention other than" he takes Steve's hand and runs it up his body, "Me".

And those compliments turned into whispered confessions, gentle touches into hardly breaking contact, soft stares into unashamed lingering looks, and coy smiles into huge adoring ones.

It was like no other relationship either of them had ever had, so many facets. It was natural, loving, intense, passionate, without boundaries, without mind games or playing up to being something they weren't, and it was all happening in a place that was all their own. It was all so easy.

Steve had revealed one time he felt like someone had written Eddie specifically for him, and Eddie had laughed so hard because he had also been secretly thinking that the whole time too.

Love followed swiftly with the force of a hurricane, sweeping them both entirely off their feet and into the stratosphere. Soon they informed their friends. It was a no-brainer. They couldn't hide this. It was all-consuming, verging on complete obsession or abandon of themselves, as I became us.

They talked about it, telling Steve's parents. They'd told Wayne, and though both incredibly nervous, armed with backup runaway plans, when they told him, he took it in his stride, and it was a breeze. He couldn't be happier for them. Maybe Steve's parents could be the same?

"I don't know, babe. But, like, I think Wayne might have suspected I was not entirely straight or something, you know, growing up, it didn't seem to phase him at all," Eddie says, sitting up in their shared bed, the dawn light highlighting the scars littering his torso.

He turns and holds Steve's face gently, "I just don't think your parents would suspect that of you. I mean, I was never really normal" he laughs and then drops back to gentle concern, "It might be a big shock for them, you know? We've been so lucky with everyone so far. Maybe we should just wait a little while longer, huh?"

Steve sits up with excitement, "But that's the thing honey, we have been so lucky, we're on a roll, and they've changed so much, you know, with me. They adore you. I adore you. What could possibly be wrong with that?" Steve's eyes search Eddie's for a change of heart, but all he is met with is worry.

"Look, they do adore me, a version of me. The one that keeps their son safe. The one that helps out around the house, and by osmosis, you get into it too. A thoughtful guy. The guy that's always got a joke, some charm, and a big smile for them." He takes hold of Steve's hands, "I hate to be crass about this, babe, but I need you to hear me. The guy that deals drugs. Who corrupted and is doing their son. He isn't part of that guy yet. That's why they like me, Steve. That guy isn't stealing their legacy, grandkids, or reputation" Eddie sighs and looks into Steve's eyes.

Steve shakes his head and laughs, "You don't deal anymore, you did not corrupt me, and you love me, Eddie. You aren't stealing anything from them. I know that. They'll know that too."

Eddie swallows hard, "Absolutely true…but that's how we see it, you know? Parents aren't like that for the most part. You must have had it happen to you? The minute someone's folks worked out, you were screwing their daughter, that kind of thing? They'll find anything they can to pick at the offending party, true or not, or dredge up their past and.." Eddie frowns and looks down, "and I don't wanna lose you because of it."

"Hey," Steve says softly, raising Eddie's chin with his hand, "You are never gonna lose me, ok? Never." When their eyes meet, Steve gives him a small sweet smile, "I can wait."

Eddie looks relieved, "I just think a good time might be when we move? We get our own place, then they don't have anything over us, and if they get mad or hate me, or worse, upset you. We can just go back home to our safe place, yeah? Maybe somewhere more accepting, someplace bigger, like San Fran or New York?" He nods at Steve with big eyes full of dreams.

"That sounds perfect," Steve says, embracing his soulmate in his arms.

The next few days were evidence clean-up. Maybe different from the one his Father had guessed at. It was a much more innocent one, of removing anything of Eddie's out of Steve's room and back into his trailer. They even spent the last two nights there to ensure it looked lived in. Then, as a welcome home, they put up the Christmas decorations except for the star at the top of the tree.

Steve's parents rushed to embrace him when he opened the door on their arrival, and then they did the same for Eddie. Mr Harrington tours the house and gives them a nod of appreciation, "You didn't even touch the sides of the stock in the garage. I'm honestly shocked but also pleased I can save a bit of money after your Mother's Christmas shopping spree." 

Eddie and Steve looked at one another and then back to Mr Harrington with big smiles.

Eddie takes a deep breath, straightens up, adjusts the waistband of his jeans, and leans in with a whisper, "Uh, you should know, we did have one absolute rager, and then it was mostly for watching the game, so nothing crazy. You're all out of green, though. We didn't touch the, um…the more expensive stuff that we also found a stash of in there."

Mr Harrington gives him an impressed nod, "Good to know, good to know. I'd appreciate it if you boys kept that our little secret?"

"Of course!" Steve says, putting his arm around Eddie's shoulders firmly, "Our lips are sealed."

Steve feels Eddie tense up under his arm, quickly slaps him on the back, and puts his hands in his pockets.

"So, are you staying with us for Christmas Eve, Eddie?" Mr Harrington inquires.

Eddie shakes his head, "Afraid not, gonna spend some time with the old man. He's probably got some hunt or shoot lined up around or on Christmas Eve for the roast. Maybe we'll get something more substantial than a pigeon this year." Eddie laughs.

"Hear that, Steve? Hunting their own Christmas dinner, like real men." Mr Harrington adds with an impressed, patriotic tone.

Eddie turns to Steve, "Just the meat. No need to hunt the potatoes and carrots. They just walk on into the oven" Eddie imitates the shape of a carrot with his body and does a silly little walk, and Steve bursts out laughing. It's almost a giggle.

His Dad eyes him suspiciously for a second, "Sorry, Mr H, we had a few sherries before you got here. Getting in the festive spirit when putting up the decs earlier," Eddie interrupts with a lie.

Mr Harrington rolls his eyes and nods, "I see."

Eddie spends five days away, and if it wasn't for all the Christmas celebration distractions, Steve would have been totally lost. But when he stopped, It felt like part of him was missing. He didn't know where to look because Eddie wasn't here to gaze at. He didn't know what to do with his idle hands because Eddie wasn't here to hold.

The night was the worst. Alone in their bed, all he had were his thoughts. He'd line up pillows to wrap himself around to provide a little comfort. Then laugh at himself for being so over-the-top, but fall asleep cradling them anyway.

One time his Dad had caught him sneaking back in from the trailer. He lied and said he'd gone out for a smoke, and he had only been smoking Eddie's cigarettes just to be consumed by a note of his aroma. He then sneaked back out, stole one of Eddie's worn t-shirts from the laundry, and wore it under his clothes. It was a little too tight on him, but he liked it that way. Impossibly close.

He forgot he wore it to bed under his pyjamas, and his Mom pointed it out, "Steve, honey, you should throw that t-shirt away. It doesn't fit you anymore. You know, not now you're a little…er…bigger" She meant fatter, and Steve knew it. Old habits die hard. He shrugged it off and sat down to his scrambled eggs. 

His Dad looked him over before moving his eyes back to his paper.

As he ate a mouthful, he smiled and looked up at his Mom, "These are really good. You put something extra in them?" Of course, he already knew the answer. This is Eddie's recipe, that hint of spice and texture is unmistakable.

"Oh, you know, just a little bit of this and that, " she beamed as she sat down at the table, her own tiny portion on her plate. Then she looked at Steve's plate for a second and into his eyes before getting up to the stove. She returned with the pan, put more on his plate and gave him that apologetic look.

Steve just sits there with his mouth partially open in surprise, eventually making a half smile and simply saying, "Thanks, Mom."

Their Christmas Eve and Day are things previously Steve has only dreamed of. 

It's full of laughter and love. Steve helps his Mom onto his shoulders to put the Star on the tree whilst his Dad takes a few pictures. They even play a few parlour games.

When the present exchange happens, obviously, as usual, Steve's main gift is another hefty deposit in his account that he is yet to be allowed access to, but to his surprise, there are more gifts. Things given to him that weren't so serious. Clothing in his favourite colours and styles, a Nintendo gaming system, a pair of tickets to a basketball game in the city, and a new hoop for outside.

He opens his present from Eddie. A nubuck tool belt and a mini leatherman engraved with his name in the pocket.

Eddie and Steve had pooled their resources for gifts for his parents. Eddie had the ideas, and Steve had the money to buy them. For his Dad, they got him a set of nice whiskey tumblers and a box of cigars. For his Mom, a recipe card box containing some already filled out recipe cards, a polaroid stuck inside the lid showing the Harrington's in the kitchen, which Eddie must have taken sneakily because none of them are looking at the camera, but they were all smiling or laughing. 

A few hours later, the Harrington's Christmas party is in full swing, and Steve's house is full of family from all over.

"Steve, sweetie!" His Mom calls out, "Phone for you!" 

Steve excuses himself from the fireside cousin chat and signals to his Mom he'll take it in the study. She gives him a smile and a thumbs up, mouthing, "It's Eddie", and Steve had to rebel against his body to casually nod and walk calmly to the study, shutting the door behind him.

"Got it, Mom! Hey, ba-Eddie!" Steve says excitedly, remembering there are still people milling about. He picks up the whole phone and moves to the far corner.

"Hey, babe!" Eddie says confidently and loudly, primarily because of the level of wind noise around him, "Did you like your presents? I love mine" Steve can hear his spectacular grin in his tone, and it soon is mirrored on Steve's own face.

"My folks loved theirs, yeah…and I loved mine too, obviously! You didn't have to do that, though." The wind howls again, and Steve thinks he can hear Eddie's teeth chatter.

"Eddie, where are you? The north pole?" Steve laughs.

"Might as well be", He chuckles back, "Hunting takes you all sorts of places, you know? I was snug as a bug earlier. I had that nice set of hat and gloves your folks got me on, but then I came out here to call you, and I thought I'd have a smoke and didn't want to ruin them" Steve laughs at Eddie's sweetness.

"Did you like what I got for you, baby?" Steve asks quietly, shielding his mouth and the phone mouthpiece to prevent anyone at home from hearing.

"Are you kidding me???!!" Eddie yells, "I fucking love them. I can't tell you how handy these boots have been today!" Steve hears a rustle against the phone, and he knows it's Eddie's hair, as he says gently, "And the necklace is beautiful. I'm never taking it off again, not even the little baseball bat pendant. I love it so much, baby. Thank you"

Hearing his voice soft like that causes a lump in Steve's throat, "This is gonna sound dumb. I know you've only been gone for a few days, but… I've missed you so much, Eddie. I can't wait for you to come home."

Eddie laughs, and there is a slight sniffle, "Oh thank god, I thought it was just me being dramatic", a sigh of relief, "I've missed you so fucking bad" Steve can picture Eddie's mouth all tensed up against the receiver, from the way he says that, "But I promise, it's gonna be worth it. I even got you something a little extra today. I think you're gonna really like it." Eddie says in a sing-song voice down the phone.

"Steve!! Nonna is leaving!!!" Someone calls out, and Steve sighs.

"I'm sorry honey, I gotta go, but we'll see you tomorrow, right?" Steve asks hopefully.

"With fucking bells on, babe. God, I can't wait to hold you again! Maybe you should wrap yourself in a bow for me, huh?" Eddie says mischievously.

"Jesus Christ, Eddie! Tone it down," Steve heard Uncle Wayne grumble, then the quick shift of leather and chain, which meant Eddie had just flipped him off.

"These people don't care. Hey!! Hey lady!! Do you care that I let my baby know how much I love and miss them?" Eddie yells.

"Chile' I wish someone as fine as you wanted to wrap me in a bow, rope, newspaper, whuteva", comes a slurring, unfamiliar voice.

"See, no one cares, Wayne. Just you being a Scrooge Mc Grinchy pants," Eddie smugly adds before there is an exasperated sigh from Wayne, making Steve laugh heartily.

"There's my favourite song," Eddie says lovingly.

"I can't wait to see you, honey. I love you," Steve says gently.

"I love you too, baby. See you tomorrow, my love," Eddie says, and Steve puts down the receiver.

"So there was some girl action whilst we were away, huh? Kept that quiet, didn't ya?" Mr Harrington's voice comes from the study door.

"Shit…D-Dad. How long have you been stood there?" Steve starts to sweat, even though it's clear his Dad thinks it was a girl.

"Hey, calm down, son, it's ok. We've all been there. I only heard you say goodbye. I wasn't eavesdropping, just came to get you for Nonna, that's all. You know she won't go without a kiss from her favourite Stefano," he laughs, and Steve breathes again.

Thankfully the next 24 hours pass quickly, and when the sound of Eddie's many keyrings jingle against the door. Steve has to restrain himself from vaulting over the sofa to get to it first. Instead, he begrudgingly sits still on the couch and casually looks over the back of it when he walks in, waves, gets up slowly and shakes his hand.

"Merry Christmas, Eddie."

"Merry Christmas, Steve."

The exchange sounds like a casual formality. But the heat between their palms, the intensity in their stare and the electricity surrounding them was anything but.

"Eddie, thank you so much for my gift. It was so beautiful." Steve's Mom's voice sings out as she embraces Eddie, and their handshake ends.

"Same here, big guy. Real quality stuff," Mr Harrington says from his armchair, swilling his malt whiskey around in his new tumbler.

Once released from a hug, Eddie stretches his arms out and twirls, "And clearly, I love mine. They came in so handy yesterday. It's so cold up there! Oh, that reminds me." Eddie pulls out a Tupperware box full of ice, "Uncle Wayne wanted to send you some of the venison. Save it going to waste." Eddie takes it to the refrigerator, and as he bends down, the shine of the silver chain catches Steve's eye, and he smiles happily.

"I'm just gonna dump my clothes in the laundry, and then I'll be right back," Eddie says, picking up his bags.

"You know what, my stuff is still in there. Sorry, man. I'll move it," Steve says quickly.

Alone in the laundry room, Steve made sure to make a lot of noise opening the washing machine as he pulled Eddie to him for a kiss, which for a second he melted into with a whimper before moving away quickly, whispering, "Steve, are you crazy?? They are right there!! Believe me, I know, I get it, we just gotta wait a few more days, after new years, and they'll be back on the road, ok honey."

Steve frowned a little. He knew Eddie was right, but he just couldn't help himself. He removes his clothes from the washer and dumps them in the drier, saying nothing.

"Steve," Eddie says softly and apologetically, putting his laundry in the machine, "Come on, sweetheart, it's only a few more days. Then we've got the whole place again. It hurts me too, so much. I just don't want anything to go tits up you know? Also.." he shuts the lid of the machine and turns it on, "I've got something that is gonna cheer you up!" He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out an envelope, and offers it with a whispered, "Merry Christmas, baby."

Steve opened the envelope, and inside were just a bunch of clippings and a folded-up map. Steve looks up at Eddie, "Is this some kind of treasure hunt?"

"Kinda", Eddie grins, fidgeting with his rings and moving quickly from side to side with nervous and excited energy.

Steve unfolded the map and realised it was a map of a city. New York City, parts of it are scribbled out, and other bits are circled. Steve remembers feeling pretty stupid at the time, but worse was Eddie's smile dropped, "You don't like it?"

"It's not that," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck, "I kinda don't get it."

"Ohhh. Well, that's because you don't have all the pieces, babe. Here, look" Eddie takes a clipping from the envelope. It has the letter A on it. Eddie points to the area of the map that also has the letter A on it.

Steve takes a closer look at the clipping. It's an apartment listing.

Eddie looks at him, hopefully.

"Are all of these…" Steve picked out a handful and started reading. Apartments, Loft spaces. House shares.

"Eddie", Steve says in amazement as he feels the emotion well up in him, "You said you were hunting…."

"I was. I was home hunting." Eddie smiles big and then quickly turns back to the map, "and all these areas here," he points at places on the map, "Are full of people like us, or at least more accepting, you know, or at least seemed like it, on recommendations from a guy uncle Wayne knew, who was definitely suuuuuper gay" Eddie laughs.

"You did all that for us?" Steve says quietly.

"I just felt bad about the other day, it's not fair you can't tell your folks, and I got to tell Wayne, but I stick by what I said, we should wait, but I thought, next week we could go see these places or find new ones, and once we have one. We'll tell them together, ok? I promise. And if it goes south, we're still ok. I know it's far, and we wanted to stay with everyone, but people around here don't get it. Maybe we can move back when this place finally catches up with us, yeah?" Eddie spoke quickly, trying to cover all the bases and being reassuring.

"Could we go tomorrow?" Steve asked excitedly.

"I mean, I just got back, but why the hell not. At least some of these might still be available if we go sooner" Eddie grins widely at Steve, still being careful to be quiet, "Gods, I could kiss you right now", He adds in a whisper, eyes trained on Steve's mouth. "You're perfect."

"Well, you can't because of your own stupid rules", Steve teases, causing Eddie to grumble in frustrated disappointment.

"I know, I know. I'm stupid, so very stupid," Eddie says, pouting and pretending to cry into his hands.

Steve gathers all the papers in the envelope and folds it in his pocket, "Very stupid, but you make up for it by being kinda cute, sometimes."

"KINDA?!!" Eddie shouts, and Steve immediately covers his mouth.

They look at one another, and the laughter takes over.

"So if this is the hunt you went on, where is the meat from?" Steve asks as he sets the drier.

"Uncle Wayne's Freezer", Eddie winks, "Technically, it is from a hunt, just not this one."

That night over cocktails that Eddie had magically just remembered the recipes of, he regales them in a theatrical retelling of the hunt. During a particularly funny sequence where Eddie accidentally backs onto the frozen lake and reenacts Bambi on ice, Steve feels someone looking at him. As he turns, he meets the gaze of his Mom, and she gives him the warmest smile and looks between him and Eddie.

He felt right then she knew. For how long, he didn't know, but he'd promised Eddie he'd wait, so he looked away quickly, got up, refilled the drinks, excused himself outside for a smoke, and left the others entertained by Eddie's performance.

Steve can still remember how cold it was that night, even though the alcohol was warming him from the inside a little. The glass door slides open minutes later, and he expects Eddie, but strangely it's his Dad.

He has a merry smile on his face as he flicks open his own cigarette case and offers one to Steve. 

They both light up, and Steve had been ready to thank him for all his gifts for the hundredth time since he got them, but instead, his Dad speaks.

"Steven, I know we've had our ups and downs. But, let's face it, mainly downs," he laughs nervously, which Steve had never heard before, "I don't want to be too airy fairy about it, but I just wanted to tell you how exceptionally proud I am of the man you're becoming. Was it what I had envisioned for you? No. But these, er friends, people you surround yourself with after that young girl went missing, seem to have helped you blossom in a way I don't think I could have." He takes a good glug of the Manhattan cocktail in his hand, "And NYC, huh? You know what they say, if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere," he half sings the last part.

Steve remembers staying very still, almost dropping the cigarette in his hand.

His Dad smiles and picks a newspaper clipping out of his pocket, "I know Eddie's a creative type, so the village makes perfect sense. I'm not sure what you might do there, but um, there is so much I don't know about you, son, and that is absolutely on me."

Steve moves forward, raising his hands in an instinctive submission, "Dad, I'm sorry. We were gonna tell you soon. We just hadn't figured it all out yet."

"Hey, Champ. Don't ever apologise for reaching for the brass ring, ok? Squeeze every last drop of nectar from life while you can." He put his arm around Steve and pulled him in close, and he knew it was the drink, but wow, did it feel good, "You're my boy, my only boy. I might not always understand you, but I wanna keep trying, Steve, ok?"

Steve could still feel his Dad's arm around him, pulling him in tight, and when he opened his eyes, he could see Eddie smiling happily at his Mom in the kitchen leaning over the island, and she's beaming back at him, showing him how to make some other cocktail, and Steve just felt the stars had aligned.

He pulled back slowly from his Dad, patting him on the back, "Ah, that's enough at that smush, eh, old timer?"

"Talking of mush. When are we gonna meet this special girl?" 

Steve swallows hard, and his eyes betray him by glancing into the kitchen, his Dad's face frowns, and Steve licked his lips nervously.

His Dad glances back into the kitchen and then back at Steve with a laugh, "Don't worry, I won't tell your mother. Guy code, am I right? What's she like? Is she hot? Got a nice ass? Bit of a tiger, is she?"

Steve can't help but blush and laugh.

"Come on, tell you're old man all about it. Bet you've told Eddie already, right?" His Dad coaxes.

And Steve takes the bait.

"I've told Eddie some of it, yeah," Steve says, looking at the ground, biting the side of his thumb, and looking back up at his Dad, who raises his eyebrows.

"Well, now I gotta know about this girl who has escaped locker room talk with your best friend. It sounds serious." He Dad chuckles.

"I think it might be. She is…um…hot, but also beautiful, you know. A totally amazing ass, if I'm being honest" he and his Dad laughed together as Steve got some congratulatory hard pats on the back. 

Steve continues, "And smart, thoughtful, caring, talented. Honestly, everything I'd wished for and then some. Great to talk to. They make me laugh so hard. I never get bored of spending time with them, even when they're rabbiting on about something I don't understand, and everything is so easy, no…you know…stupid mind games. I can completely be myself. So it's like all the good stuff and a great friend, too, like the cherry on top. The best." Steve says enthusiastically.

He looks back at his Dad, who looks a little confused, "Steve, I mean, she sounds great, but um, if you and Eddie are going to new york, maybe getting into something that sounds this serious right now is a bad move. New York is a huge eclectic place. Temptation all around, you know? You're only young."

Steve takes another sip of his Long Island Iced Tea, a particularly potent gulp, and burns a little on the way down. Almost making his head spin, "I think I can behave. He's worth it."

Mr Harrington's frown deepens, "I think you've had a few too many, Steve. Or maybe I have. I thought you said he." He laughed, but it fizzled out when his eyes looked over a frozen-in-place Steve, who, despite the cold, was beginning to sweat.

Then it is just a snowball rolling down a mountain of shit. Everything starts to go wrong. Steves's eyes involuntarily darted towards Eddie and back to his Dad, who put his hands on his hips and looked back at Eddie too, but Eddie must sense them and turned and gave them both a big grin and little wave before turning back to help Mrs Harrington.

Steve was locked in place by his Dad's stare. His mouth is arid as the desert, and the cigarette in his hand is just burning away. Then his Dad blinks with a tight mouth "Eddie?" He queries, approaching Steve to look directly into his eyes, looking for signs of deception.

Steve just trembles in place, not knowing what to do. He'd guessed, and Steve had promised to wait, but should he lie now, after he was in such a good place with his parents. His Mom looked like she knew.

Swallowing hard, hands becoming slippery with clamminess, Steve almost drops his glass and puts it on the table nearby, but his Dad dips his head to follow Steve's eyes with a fiercesome glare.

"Tell me the truth, Steve, are you…" his Dad looks like he's going to throw up, "The person you were talking about is a girl, right. Not the guy sitting in my kitchen right now talking to my wife."

Steve motions to go inside and escape the conversation. Maybe his Dad would get so drunk he'd forget all about this tomorrow.

He's stopped with a firm grip on his arm and pulled back to where he was, "Look at me, Steve. Tell me now. I won't judge you, ok. I promise. I just want to know."

Steve felt promise at his Father's words and nervously chewed his lips, still unsure what to do.

"Let me make it easy for you, son. Just answer yes or no, ok? Did something…um…sexual or romantic happen between you and Eddie? Just a yes or no. You've got nothing to be scared of." He reassured Steve, holding his upper arms now much more gently.

Steve feels the tears well up in his eyes, and he nods, "Yeah", he manages to croak out, "I mean, yes. Yes, it did."

His Dad smiles at him, "Hey buddy, that's ok."

"Yeah?" Steve says, full of hope wiping his tears away.

"Yeah, don't you worry about anything. That was a brave thing to admit, Steve. Wait here, ok. I'm gonna go grab us something to take the edge off, yeah? Everything is gonna be alright" he pulls Steve's head forward and kisses him on the forehead, "You're my boy. I love you. I'd do anything for you."

Steve remembers looking out into the night in happy disbelief. He lit another cigarette. He knew Eddie would be pissed. He'd messed up the plan, but it was out there now, his Dad was ok with it, and Steve felt his Mom knew already, anyway. He looked up at the stars and whispered, "Thank you."

The stars didn't reply.

He glances back into the kitchen and sees his Dad has made a pit stop in the kitchen. He's chatting with Eddie and his Mom. Steve decides to get up to join them. No one noticed him walk in. The conversation looked intense. Once inside, Steve can hear them clearly.

"So Steve told me something interesting just now. Something about somethings that have been going under my own roof whilst we were away, honey" Mr Harrington is talking to his wife, but he's looking directly at Eddie.

Steve sees Eddie nervously swallow but tries to remain calm. "Like what, Mr H? The keg stand competition?"

"Oh, Eddie, it's a bit late in the proceedings to be playing coy." His Father added sinisterly before slamming his hand against the countertop, and his face reddening, "OUT OF THE GOODNESS OF OUR HEARTS, we let a little piece of trailer trash into our home, honey. And you know what he did to repay us?" He says, getting closer to Eddie, who has his eyes trained on Mr Harrington. Alert but not scared or angry. He's completely still, much like Steve had been outside.

"He brainwashed our son and took advantage of him. Messed up my boy, my only boy. You hear me, honey. What this devil did in our own home? To Steve? Disgusting, depraved things. HONEY?! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?" He bellows but doesn't take his eyes off Eddie.

"John, listen, you need to calm down, ok. You're just in shock, and that's ok, but everything will be fine. I was worried too at first, but Steve is so happy. That's what we wanted for him, isn't it, John? And Eddie hasn't corrupted or hurt anyone. It's just something that happened between them" Mrs Harrington tries to soothe him with her words.

Mr Harrington throws his head back and laughs, slapping his hand against the countertop a few times, "Oh, you stupid bitch. He got you, too, did he? That's why he spends so much time with you. Twisting your simpleton brain to his will, getting you on his side, so he could get his claws in our boy."

Steve can't believe what he's hearing and finally approaches and stands next to Eddie, "Dad, what happened? Come on, don't talk to Mom like that. Outside just now, everything was ok, wasn't it?"

Eddie stands up and says with gentle caution, "Sir, I didn't do those things, but I understand you're angry, so maybe it's best if we just go."

"We? WE?!!" Mr Harrington rages right in Eddie's face, but he remains calm and looks right back at him, letting him finish before turning to Steve and his Mom, "Come on, let's give him some space to calm down. He's had a big shock. He just needs a bit of time."

"I think I need to stay, Eddie. He's very distressed." Mrs Harrington replies shakily.

Steve catches the split-second sneer on Eddie's face, his eyes still on Mr Harrington as he says tight-lipped, "I can't leave either of you here with him like this"

"Oh, it's me, is it? I'm the bad guy? You repulsive fucking wretch. Attempting to turn my own family against me. Your kind disgusts me, spreading your viruses, preying on the naive and twisting them to your depraved wants until you're done. Then you spit them out, don't you? Send them home, broken, irreparable because they suffered your demonic perversions. He'll never be the same now. You've condemned him to hell. My boy is a dumb shit, but he could have had a chance. I probably would have had to pay someone to give him a chance, but I'd get his foot in the door. Now all that's waiting for him is a painful, early death in a hospital bed or getting beaten to death in an alley somewhere." 

Eddie's nose wrinkles in loathing and Steve can see his hands are in tight fists, "You know what… let's go, Steve."

Steve looked at his Mom, and she gave him a small smile and nodded.

Steve walks past Eddie to get his coat and keys, but he's not even a few steps to the door before he hears his Mom's ear-splitting scream, shortly followed by Eddie's voice.

"Now, Mr Harrington. I think we all just need to relax a little ok. We're gonna be out of your hair, ok?" Eddie's voice is unnaturally cold but calm.

"You're not leaving this property, Munson. I swear to god!!" Steve hears his Father yell at Eddie.

Once turned around. It takes a few seconds for Steve to process what he sees. His Mom with her hands to her mouth, shaking. Then, with his hands up, Eddie slowly walks backwards, his eyes unflinching from someone, he's talking too softly for Steve to make out the words, but he can see his mouth moving.

He follows Eddie's eye line and, slowly emerging into the frame from the archway, is his Dad. Arms out in front of him, glaring at Eddie with a handgun pointing right at him.

"What the fuck" Steve's hands went to his head, "This is crazy. This is crazy." He mutters to himself before stepping towards Eddie in an attempt to shield him. 

"Dad, please look at me. Put the gun down. Eddie hasn't done anything wrong. We can talk about this. It's not as bad as you think it is." Steve was trying to get the attention of his Dad, pleading with him to see reason.

"Steven, if you don't step away from this heathen. I swear to god I WILL BLOW HIS FUCKING BRAINS OUT!" Mr Harrington yells out, and Steve immediately steps back, and for the first time since this started, Eddie turns and looks Steve in the eyes.

His whole expression immediately changes from a cold hard stare to a soft, almost regretful gaze. Steve sees fear in Eddie's eyes for the first time in a long time.

"B-Steve, I think you and your Mom need to leave, please. You don't need to see this." his voice is soft and full of care. He thinks he's done for and is just sparing Steve and his Mom the gory visuals, "Please, Steve."

"Stop looking at my boy like that, you degenerate!! Don't talk to him that way. This is what they meant before, isn't it all those murders…that cult…I can see now that was all true. How he twists people around, just like this." Eddie's eyes immediately snap back to Mr Harrington, back to that same cold hard stare.

"Dad, you don't understand. Please calm down. This is getting way out of hand." Steve tries again

"I tell you what I understand, Steven. This man was welcomed into my home. He corrupted my beautiful boy, brainwashed my wife, and now he's trying to slither away like the serpent he is, so he can steal you away until he's done. He'll let everyone know what he did here and ruin us. I can't let him walk out of here and do that. I can't. He can't leave here!" Mr Harrington's thumb clicks something on the gun.

"John, you need to stop. I'm on the phone with the police already. We can resolve this. Let the boys go, John." Mrs Harrington says half with authority and half with reassurance.

Mr Harrington squeezes his eyes shut for a moment with frustration. Despite the cold air still rushing in from outside, beads of sweat form on his forehead, "Aren't you listening to me?! He can't leave. Does your poor excuse for a brain understand that?" Mr Harrington turns to his wife, "You traitorous bitch!"

Time stops for Steve. He's seen his opportunity, and he's going to seize it. Mr Harrington's cruel eyes on his wife. Her eyes turn to Steve as he rushes forward. He hears Eddie call his name to stop him, but he's too late. The last person to turn to him is his Dad, as Steve hits his Dad's forearms from above with all his might, dropping the gun.

Time starts up again. Steve quickly finds the safety and tosses the gun out of the open door into the backyard somewhere.

 He turns, relieved to have diffused the situation, only to be met by a hard shove in the chest from his Dad, he stumbles backwards over a barstool, and the back of his head makes solid contact with the marble countertop edge, and he drops to the floor.

He's staring at the ceiling, well, snippets of it, intermittently cutting to black when his eyelids open and shut.

Eddie's face comes into the frame, "Steve? Can you hear me?"

He feels Eddie pick him up in his arms, "Steve? Please talk to me? You're gonna be ok."

Steve tries to smile as he gets lost in Eddie's eyes until there is another hysterical scream from his Mom.

Eddie's eyes go frantic, "What is it? What is it?!!!" Then his eyes move to the floor behind Steve. Eddie's eyebrows pinch together, "No-no-no-no! I got you. I got you, ok?" One of Eddie's hands is slick with something as he caresses his face. Eddie's face contorts into absolute sorrow, and the tears start welling up, "Stay with me, baby, please" He feels Eddie grip him tighter, but his arms are shaking.

"I-Im sorry, I didn't mean to" His Dad's voice trembles.

Eddie's face screws up as he turns to the voice, "I WILL FUCKING END YOU IF YOU TOUCH HIM!!!" Eddie screams out before turning back and running his hands over Steve's face and hair. "Look what you did…oh god…look what you did to my baby." His breath is shuddering as Eddie rocks them both back and forth.

The periods of darkness start to get a little longer with every closing of his eyelids, "No-no-no-no. Steve! Steve no. You stay here. You stay here with me, ok? Don't leave me, baby. Please. I love you, please. Oh god. Please." Eddie beseeches Steve and the air around them as the tears run down his face.

Then it fades to black, and all Steve hears is a primal cry of anguish and pain unleashed by Eddie.

Steve's eyes flutter open, he feels pressure at the back and around his head, and as the world comes into focus, he can see his Mom above him, but she's not looking at him.

"Eddie, honey. Just put the knife down. We don't need anymore…" then she just bursts into tears.

"Oh, I'm not gonna end this fucker, that quickly" Eddie's voice is low, menacing, and his words drip with pure venom, "I'm gonna make you regret you were born every fucking day of your life. First, they're gonna lock you the fuck up, and I will make sure that word gets around in there, and you definitely get the hospitality package for whiney bitches." There is a thud and a whimper from Mr Harrington. "And then when they inevitably let you go, I'm gonna make sure you never know peace. You'll always be looking over your shoulder for me, John. Always, I promise you that." Then there is a sob from Eddie, and his voice completely changes. It flips from icy cool to emotional "Why'd you do that? YOU STUPID FUCK!! You stole him from me. Why? Why? Why?" There is a series of thuds, "Oh god, my baby's gone, and it's all your fault. YOU KILLED HIM, YOU FUCK!!!" he rages and then hears Eddie take a sharp sobbing breath in with a sigh, and the other voice is back again.

"I'll be watching you always, John, and if you dare try to take the easy way out, I'm gonna intervene because you don't get to do that now. Not anymore. I'll decide when you go. An eye for an eye. Isn't that what it says in your book, huh? Isn't that what your god says?" Steve hears a sharp intake of breath from his Dad, "Well, I'm your god now, John. You better learn to sleep with one eye open."

"Eddie, please just back up a little, ok? You can still restrain him for the cops without doing anything that might implicate you, ok?" Steve's Mom gently reminds him, and her shoulders relax a little, which must mean Eddie heeded her words." The cops and the ambulance are on their way."

Steve feels he can move his fingers and reaches out for his Mom's trouser leg. He tries to grip it to tug on it but ends up pawing at it.

Her eyes shoot down to him with happy surprise, and she's on the floor next to him, lifting him up, tears spilling down her face as she squeezes him tight. 

As Steve slowly sits up, he can see Eddie has his Dad pinned up against the wall, a huge chef's knife to his throat, staring imposingly into his Dad's petrified eyes.

Steve's head is pounding, but he tries to call him anyway, "E-Eddie?"

Steve sees Eddie's brows push together, he takes a deep shuddering breath as his expression crumbles, and he blinks the tears out of his eyes, still trying to keep focused on Mr Harrington, "I hear you, baby. I hear you." he sniffles out before repositioning himself to lean into a horror-stricken Mr Harrington.

"No, Eddie. He's awake," his Mom manages.

"Wh-what?" Eddie's body shifts from one side to the other. He's still pushing Mr Harrington into the wall. Then he dares to turn and look at Steve, and he completely caves. His arms drop to his sides, and he lets out a quiet, "Steve? Please don't say I've gone crazy." He says in a barely-there voice and looks frantically at Mrs Harrington.

Steve slowly gets to his feet with the help of his Mom and some furniture and smiles, nodding.

Eddie's face is pure disbelief, but he can't take his eyes off Steve as he steps to turn the rest of himself towards him. Before he can, Mr Harrington lunges for him again, but something stops him in his tracks.

Eddie turns back to look at Mr Harrington, then his eyes move down, and he swallows hard. Eddie's horror-filled eyes move up and down Mr Harrington repeatedly, and Steve can't work out why Eddie is standing still and not walking over to him until Mr Harrington starts to slump.

"I didn't…I-I-I didn't mean to…" Eddie shakily says. As Steve gets closer, he can see Eddie's hand still on the knife handle, but the blade is entirely plunged into Mr Harrington's abdomen.

Blood starts to leak out of the corner of his mouth. Eddie cannot look away from what is happening before him and is stunned into a terrified silence.

"We all saw him lunge at you, Eddie. It was an accident, ok? The ambulance is on its way. They'll fix him up. No one is going to blame you." Mrs Harrington tries to reassure him.

Steve, on the other hand, knows what this means for Eddie, at the very least, prison. Especially with Eddie's past of running from the law. He doesn't have the money for bail. They might even attempt to bring up what he had been cleared of before in the light of new evidence. 

Steve approaches slowly and puts his hand over Eddie's on the knife handle, "It's ok, honey. Shh-shhh", and Eddie finally looks at Steve again, silently, his eyes begging for help.

With his free hand, Steve gently prizes Eddie's fingers away from gripping onto the knife. His breaths are stunted, like he's crying, but there aren't any tears in his eyes, just pure terror.

Steve turns Eddie, so his whole body faces him, "I need you to know how much I love you, Eddie. I won't let him or anyone else take you from me. You hear me?" Steve says in earnest as Mr Harrington finally slumps to the ground next to them.

Eddie's eyes blink quickly before he makes a choked sound, "Steve?" He asks as his eyebrows knit together, searching Steve's eyes.

A tear spills down Steve's face as his hand is still firmly on the knife's handle. The blade no longer plunged into his Father but his lover.

At his desk, Steve runs his hands down his face to push down the emotions. They were gone, and there was nothing he could do to change that. Short of time travel. If only he had lied.

For a long time, Steve's regrets centred around both his Father and Eddie, but he knew deep down, no matter what improvements his Father had seemed to have made, whilst he was breathing, Eddie was as good as dead. 

Even knowing that, Steve wasn't glad his Father was gone. He wasn't built that way. Killing monsters was one thing, but a human, his family, his Father? He knew he'll never be able to unshoulder that guilt that his Father wasn't here anymore because of him. Eddie hadn't deliberately injured him. Even when he had a chance to. Even when he thought Steve was gone. 

Steve hangs his head. 

He, on the other hand, had deliberately stabbed Eddie. Not to kill him, to save him. He wouldn't have landed in a place like this, not with his track record. But he'd misjudged his placement, or maybe Eddie's blood didn't clot as well as most, or something just got fucked up.

Steve could still feel the warm liquid pulsating over his thumb and down the back of his hands as he pulled out the knife and tried to put pressure on the wound. Eddie looked so confused, but his eyes never left Steve's. Not until the lights in them went out.

The buzzer yanks Steve out of his memories, "All set, Harrington?" The guard smiles at him.

Steve gathers up his notepad and smiles back with a nod, "Absolutely!"

"It's gonna be a little less pleasant around here without ya. This bunch finally had a team that stood a chance against us on the court with you around." The guard chuckles.

"Well, what else was I gonna do with my time here?" Steve shrugs.

"I don't get to say this often, but it's been a pleasure having you, Harrington. But I sincerely hope I never see you here ever again. So keep outta trouble now," the guard says as Steve is guided through processing to leave.

He hadn't had to stay here as long as he thought he would. His Mom had hired a great legal team. At first, he'd almost cleanly gotten away with it all as self-defence, but once it got out how much his Dad was insured for, his grandparents got involved. They'd never much liked him or his Mom. she wasn't old money like they were.

Thankfully, though that battle went on for a few months, their legal team had ensured Steve would be held in a lower security, nicer facility. It was honestly much closer to rehab than a prison. The privileges of money and networking with the right people in full effect. 

Bail was an option, but Steve had requested against it. The team said it looked good, showed he was remorseful, and Steve was wholeheartedly, but that wasn't why he didn't want to return home. It wasn't home anymore, not really.

Eventually, the ruling returned to self-defence, and Steve was free to go home. Today.

And though this day was supposed to be joyous, it felt so desperately bittersweet. He'd be free, but he'd be lost without Eddie. He sighs and collects his things to get changed. He definitely would need to buy some new clothes soon. He'd bulked out more than he thought, as the gym and sports were what he'd filled the time with. They were the only place he could channel his frustrations. He'd tried writing but could never capture his imagination or memories on paper.

The gates open, and Steve takes his first step back into everyday life. The black executive car waits for him across the street. The chauffeur gets out to open the door, and his Mom bursts out of it, running towards him, and engulfs him in a big hug before they get in the car.

"You hungry, sweetie? We could stop someplace?" She asks gently.

He shakes his head, "No, I'm ok. I just wanna get home."

Steve bursts into tears at his last word. That place was a house for so long. Eddie made it home, and now he'd have to go back and sit in their home without him.

His Mom's arm moves around his shoulders and pulls him to her., As she winds down the partition, "Straight home, please. Where you can step on it."

She turns her attention back to Steve, "It's gonna be ok. We're gonna be ok." She soothes and strokes his hair gently.

He looks up at her, his face creased in anguish, "It's not home, now. I can't face staying there, Mom. I'm sorry."

"That's ok, honey. We'll find something else, ok? We can go wherever you want tomorrow. It's just one night, and we'll go to a hotel if it's too much." She takes his hand in both of hers and squeezes it.

"I know I've made mistakes, Steve. I hope in time you can forgive me. A better mother would have taken your place. I am so sorry. I've done everything in my power to help you where I could. Where I was brave enough, anyway." Her words ring of genuine remorse, and Steve looks up at her and gives her a small smile and nod.

They get back, and she probably doesn't need to, but she shows Steve around anyway, and a lot has changed. The interior is more minimalist and modern all around. The trailers are gone, a pool is in their place, a new gym, and the kitchen has been completely changed. Everything is different here: the materials, the furniture and the placement of appliances. This might be the change Steve is most thankful for because it's much harder to place ghosts where they've never been.

"Want these upstairs, Ms Palladino? The chauffeur's Brooklyn accent rings out.

"No, just in the hallway is fine. I need to sort through them," She calls back as she hands Steve a coke from the fridge. 

"Do I get to change my name too?" Steve says with a half smile.

"If that's what you want, Steve, we can make it happen. Anything you want, ok?" She smiles over at him and pats his hand.

He takes a sip, hearing a stumble and an audible grunt from the hallway, "Damn, steam trunks are mad heavy." Steve puts down his can and goes to help.

"Here, let me help you out with that. I keep telling her to update, you know, but Moms, huh?" Steve says, rolling up his sleeves.

As Steve bends down, the light through the open doorway hits the silver chain peeking through the driver's open collar. Steve squints at first but then looks again. He sees the baseball bat pendant, "Where did you…." Steve starts angrily before his eyes begin to take in other details of the driver.

The oversized aviators and hat obscured the top half of his slender face, but now Steve could see his hair tucked into the cap. A tiny rogue wavy tendril had wrestled its way to freedom. The man's hands had bands of much paler skin on some of his fingers. His elegant neck, severe jawline and finally, his pillowy mouth.

"Eddie?"

A big smile spreads across the driver's face as he stands up. He pulls off the sunglasses and hat, freeing his hair.

"Sorry I'm late, sweetheart", is all he says with a smile before rushing to embrace Steve.

"But you…I thought you were…I thought I'd…." Steve stumbles over his words.

Squeezing him so tightly, Eddie speaks into his neck, "Believe me, I wanted to see you so many times, baby, but we thought it might affect the case, you know? And I know you didn't mean to hurt me that badly." Eddie holds onto Steve's face as he moves his head back, so his forehead touches Steve's. His hands cradle Steve's face as he stares into his eyes. "Oh, I've missed these," he says as he bites his lips together for a second before he begins rambling again. "I know you wanted it to look like he got me, came at you, and you had to defend yourself. I'm sorry we hid that I was ok from you. Can you forgive me?"

Steve nods as the tears fall from his eyes.

Steve sees Eddie swallow hard and looks away, mumbling words to a question that he doesn't know if he wants the answer to, "Are we still…I mean…do you still…can you still love me, after what I did?"

Steve pulls him in for a tear-drenched kiss, "You'll always have my heart, Eddie", Steve says with a soft sigh, "Just quit dying on me, ok?" He adds with a small laugh.

Eddie's eyes lock onto Steve's, "That old grim reaper has gotta get a whole lot quicker to catch Eddie Munson" before his eyes dip down, and he captures Steve's lips with his own once more. 

Steve knows, at that moment, there is a new line just waiting to be added to Eddie's repertoire on the horizon, "Remember that time my husband killed me?"

#steddie #eddie munson #eddiemunson #steve harrington #steddie fan fiction #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic

[theindiegamesautistic]

A Short hike

probably spoiler free (I did my best, but no guarantees)

An impulsive lockdown purchase that I have yet to regret.

The idea is that you are a bird (I know, already brilliant) and you must climb to the top of hawk peak to get phone signal, so you can receive an important phonecall.

There's loads of other little guys (various creatures) to speak to with side quests and problems for you. Some of them just want a chat and they have some wonderful bits of life advice (I'm slightly joking, but some of its funny)

it claims to be 90 minutes of gameplay, and maybe, if someone with neurotypical level focusing skills made extra sure to stick to only the main quest with maximum efficiency, they could potentially complete it in a time close to that. I think I took about 4hrs to get to the top of hawk peak, then there's plenty left to do.

Personally, I don't think I've "completed" it. The boats update added more things to find and I know I've not found every golden feather yet. It's open world and there's enough going on that you can find many hours of activities, including toast!

sensory experience:

(this is based on my experience of it, so there's a chance I've missed bits)

It is in autumn colours, mostly muted, with some bright reds and greens (as shown in the picture above)

it has music that changes as the environment/circumstances change and feels like it progresses as you progress.

There are also background sounds as you interact with the environment (fires crackling, the boats engine, wind) and these, when playing with headphones, have a 3D effect (i.e. if the fire is on your characters left, you will hear the crackling on your left)

You can fly/dive with quite significant speed, causing the scenery to move fast rapidly, which made me a little dizzy, but it is difficult to create this situation by accident and it is not a required part of the game.

There is also a side of the island that is constantly experiencing thunder storms. It wasn't loud or unexpected enough to make me jump and there's no strobing, but it was definitely noticeable.

emotional experience:

Your character is unable to die and will not miss the phone call if you take a long time to get up hawk peak, which for me, lowers the stress.

Around the area with the thunderstorm, there is a small graveyard, but the style of the graphics means there's no names or any other details visible.

There are no deaths in the game.

The topic of the phonecall is revealed to be important to your character, and I believe it's implied that they are nervous about it, but you don't get more details until later.

Overall, it's fairly emotionally light and all characters are broadly friendly (some are a little blunt when they run out of things to say and want to get on with their task, but aren't we all)

Did I find it accessible?

(this is specific to me and what I find makes a game accessible, but it might be useful to people with similar access needs)

easy of learning controls: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

I found the controls intuitive and simple. Information is given by characters in the game, which means you can start immediately, however I do wish there was somewhere all the controls where written that I could refer back to without having to end the game (there might be, but if there is, I haven't found it)

processing speed/reaction time requirements: ⭐⭐⭐

the main quest doesn't require fast reactions or processing, however, there are a few side quests that do. these are not critical to the game, however, I found how long I needed to spend to complete them slightly frustrating. However, most of the side quests do not require fast processing.

focus requirement: ⭐⭐

the perspective changes within the game means that you sometimes need to change keys to walk in a straight line, which can mean you go off in an unexpected direction.

overall, yes, I found I was able to access all aspects of the game, even though a small number of things took me a little longer.

overall ratings

autumn vibes: 🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁 very

happy stims while playing: ✨✨✨✨ quite a few

time lost that i didn't notice:⌚⌚⌚⌚ lots

boats:🚤 only one that you get to drive, but it's alot of fun

#a short hike #indie games #autumn #autism is my favourite season #game review #accessibility #thanks for reading my infodump

[stuffgoeswrong]

Maybe it's late but do chuuaku next if you feel like it!!! Have a sweet day 💕

Of course! It's never too late!

Chuuaku

Ship it

What made you ship it?

Honestly? This person's art--I mean look at it. I love their style, it's gorgeous. After that, I just started seeing more official art of them and hearing about the hype for Chuuaku on Twitter (or at least I thought it was fairly popular over there). Then I began to rethink the characters and what they could have in common, which turns out is kind of a lot. To quote my anime journal, they've both been hurt by Dazai and have been lone wolves for most of their lives. They've been through so much and I want them to bond over being used by people they once trusted (Aku--Dazai, Chuuya--Shirase, Verlaine, anyone else from Stormbringer? I haven't actually read it yet). They each ponder their self-worth but admire those around them (Chuuya admires Mori's leadership but worries about his own humanity, Akutagawa admires Atsushi for being able to stand up to him but doesn't see his own strength as good enough, and obvs Dazai). Listen, so we all know Chuuya is a loyal character, it's one of his core traits. But Akutagawa has that same potential too! He's kept his promise to Atsushi not to kill anyone for six months. I believe Beast even as an alternate universe implies traits that are there in every version of a character, so Akutagawa's protection over Gin can also be seen as loyalty. Any two people being fiercely devoted to each other or having that possibility is a huge plus for me. Yeah, they haven't had any actual scenes together in the main story (ig Dead Apple kinda counts, I always forget that exists) which made me a little iffy at first, but they've had a little screentime together in Wan! which is good enough for me and I ended up loving them!

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

Chuuaku's vibes are like off the charts emo autumn season and I love it. Their color schemes are so Halloween-y and I always picture them within an aesthetic collage of hot chocolate, falling leaves, and overcast skies. I also like how easy it usually is to come up with headcanons for them, like Akutagawa would be so bad at compliments (thinking about him like Kageyama saying knife instead of nice) and Chuuya would appreciate him trying yet he's so much smoother at it, they both shop at Hot Topic, love similar music, effective on missions together, find it easy to bully people together, and go on midnight motorcycle rides to help Akutagawa's lungs. Oh, I love that Chuuya is kind of the mentor Aku never had and so it's for sure just one of the most positive relationships Aku could have. Also, it seems to me they're both workaholics so it would be fun to see them realize this about each other and force the other to work out making time for fun things, not necessarily with each other. In my opinion, Chuuya needs someone calmer than Dazai and Akutagawa needs someone who's patient but still outgoing. Of course, I believe that with any Akutagawa ship, he needs to be less obsessed with Dazai to be more in tune with his partner. I think Chuuya could help him move past this because of his specific position in Akutagawa's life as a coworker and someone who knows Dazai pretty personally. Overall I like that this ship, like my other favorites, is pretty balanced power-wise, has a great aesthetic, is on opposite ends of the personality spectrum, and has room for "missing or behind the scenes" fanfictions. Also the possibilities for AUs (from mayoi alone we get detectives and bandmates)!

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Not sure since there aren't several fans I've talked to about Chuuaku, but I'm gonna use this opportunity to say that these are the top songs that remind me of them: I Will Follow You into the Dark by Death Cab for Cutie, Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne, Better Than Me by The Brobecks, Easily by Bruno Major. Perhaps my unpopular opinion would be that they're actually just very domestic.

Thanks for the ask!

#asks #chuuaku #bsd #bsd ships #chuuya nakahara #akutagawa ryuunosuke

[averseunhinged]

it is the end of the summer and project: secret plan to treat my own anxiety disorder until i can find a semi-local psychiatrist who is both taking patients and not a complete wackadoo has been. you know. hits and misses.

(+) have figured out my newly diversified social media usage to some extent, i.e. where i'm comfortable posting what content

(-) really, really hate juggling bluesky, instagram, tumblr, and the artist formerly known as twitter*. it makes me feel even more scattered than i normally do.

(+) removed most of the social media apps on my phone. it feels more manageable when it's not a constant barrage of notifications. i still have tafkat and bluesky on my phone, at least for now, but the rest are strictly laptop only.

(+) wrote things, both fic and original, with the actual intent to share them

(-) still having phases of massive panic attacks while writing, because i dared contemplate potentially allowing other ppl to read it in some capacity or another

(+) not having them every single time i open up a word document, tho. sometimes it even feels as fun as when i'm handwriting in notebooks.

(+) participated in fandom stuff

(+) sort of

(+) like the bare minimum of participation

(-) and then: panic/horror/despair

(+) but i'm kind of figuring out how it all works in the year of our lord etc. and there is LESS of the aforementioned, which...jesus, i can't even begin to describe how nice it is to be able to do things i really do want to do without the meatsack totally shutting down, because it can't read the room, and thinks i'm for realsies going to die.

(-) i was for sure using the wrong strain of sativa for a while

(-) white durbin was a bad scene for me

(+) do recommend jack herer and og sour diesel for adhd, tho. they sort of streamline the braining, but don't totally jack me up.

other more personal ups and downs, too. so. progress. ish. not as much as i (unrealistically) wanted, but there was some at least? i don't have a ton of secret plan stuff going into autumn, other than REALLY do it up for the autumn/winter holidays this year, if i'm well enough, because my sister broke off a long term relationship with a guy who was not holiday fun.

more of what i've already been trying to do, i guess. if i have to. which i do. being a very high risk person during the plague times broke my brain (which was already a cesspool of medical trauma, self-conscious anxiety, the sads, and no-longer-medicated adhd), and it's deeply annoying that doing things that make me feel short-term awful makes me feel long-term better.

i'd like to keep doing wip wednesday, but multifandom. i would like to actually finish fic and post it. i would like to do exchanges. i would like to review things. i would like to participate in and contribute to fandom at least to the level i used to. which was pretty minimal in the grand scheme, but it was something.

*if we are friendly here and you would like to be friendly on other hellsites, i think i'm at a point where that's okay. dm me or whatever. i do private life stuff on tafkat (very open about my severe medical problems, so content warning) music/tv/movies/food babbling on bluesky, and mostly use ig to keep up with friends and family, but haven't posted anything myself in years. unfollow amnesty for everything always. we can still be friends, even if you don't want to know my every opinion on trap-infused pop country or whenever i end up almost dead in the hospital for the millionth time.

#what if another psychiatrist who was not an anti-vaxxer started taking patients in my area #what if that was a thing that happened for me #i'm not taking medical advice from a covid denialist #esp one who graduated? from?? medical school??? #like how do you become an actual medical doctor without the ability to interpret a peer reviewed study???? #idk if this is appropriate content for this hellsite #but dedicated to everyone who's in the shit and halfassed trying to fight their way back out #secret plan to fight anxiety

[jadepetals]

so this is part 4 of the fics that i've read and have stayed with me for a looong time. hope you feel the same way.

the beginning of everything / 30532 words

Harry is a struggling artist, in more ways than one, and Louis is a successful theatre critic and a failed writer, more or less.

Where I Should Be / 31324 words

Harry is getting married, Louis is in love with his best friend, and they only have this life to get it right.

From Eight Until Late, I Think About You / 35227 words

After finding out that his University of Brighton roommate has a YouTube channel, Harry starts up his own channel, on which he posts videos of himself doing weekly challenges. He strikes up a friendship with Louis, a popular youtuber in London, that starts in the comments on their videos and progresses to texting, skyping, and talking about each other in their own videos far too often. They fall for each other long-distance, but put off meeting face-to-face as long as possible, too nervous that they'll screw it all up.

all that remains / 40159 words

Harry has always written too many songs about him.

Breakable Heaven / 44594 words

“What do you think?” Louis gets captured by Harry’s green eyes, unable to look away or even take a breath.

“I think you’re the most magnificent creature I’ve ever met.”

“You must not have met many creatures then.”

Harry’s eyes glance downward to Louis’ lips and his tongue darts out to wet his own. “None like you.”

just a flicker in the dark / 57200 words

Louis is a struggling witch desperate to prove himself after yet another magic disaster and finds a calling in the haunted house of client Niall Horan. Things get more complicated when he’s assigned a case partner: acclaimed medium and ex-boyfriend, Harry Styles.

Like Real People Do / 58469 words

Harry is Louis' soulmate but Louis isn't Harry's - it takes Harry a while to figure it all out.

try not to remember (rather than forget) / 59602 words

Harry hadn’t left, not really. He had been right there the entire time. And that’s what had made it worse, knowing that his body was within touching distance but his mind, everything that made Harry Harry, was lost somewhere Louis wasn’t able to reach.

He hadn’t left, but that’s what it had felt like most of the time. Just as if one day Harry had up and left him.

Know I Think You’re Awesome, Right? / 60113 words

Louis is a hippie, very good vibes activist and Harry is a punk, anarchist that always gets involved in violent protests.

Such Good Luck / 66205 words

Harry is a young aristocratic lord and Louis is a working class dairy farmer. Secrets are a necessary part of their relationship, but Louis has one that could topple their whole world.

sleeping on our problems / 67426 words

Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

From What I’ve Tasted of Desire / 71557 words

When Louis moves to the small Scottish town of Fortrose to spend some time with his father, he thinks he's come to terms with the fact that the next two years of his life will be rainy and dull. That changes when he meets the ever-elusive Harry Styles in his Biology class and he makes it his goal to find out the big secret surrounding him and his family. Louis unexpectedly finds himself in the eye of a storm of secrecy, age-old myths, friendship and romance.

We’ll Cast Some Light (You’ll Be Alright) / 74409 words

There’s a standard procedure for this. Scan, track, kill. But with a solar eclipse and a Greater Demon with unfinished business looming, the path to keeping England safe from harm becomes complicated and shadowed by mystery and secrets. For Harry and his team, times have never been harder, especially when a few old friends turned foes show up. Harry is left with just over forty days to overcome the hurdle of tension between them and reconcile their past, and figure out just what Louis is hiding from him before it’s too late.

 My friend lost a bet / 74975 words

Louis ends up on the list of potential fake-boyfriends for Harry Styles because Stan really sucks at football bets.

Swallow The Knife / 76178 words

“You came,” Louis says, still breathless, clinging to Harry, uncaring that his sweat is getting all over Harry’s presumably clean dad shirt, or that he’s making Harry hold up all of his weight.

“Of course I came,” Harry says. He shifts, one arm curled underneath Louis’ arse, the other spreading wide in the middle of Louis’ back. “If I ignored you every time you pissed me off we would have stopped being friends a long time ago.”

Louis already knows that, of course. It doesn’t do anything to stop the pleased squirm in his belly every time Harry proves it, though. They fight like nobody’s business, both of them too stubborn to pull their punches when they’re arguing, and it used to get them in trouble, but they always make up.

Adrenaline makes Louis loose-lipped, and they both know it. He tightens his arms around Harry’s neck, buries his face in his hair. “I missed you,” he confesses, quiet. “Doesn’t feel the same up there by myself.”

Black with Autumn Rain / 93468 words

Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren't exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

Runaway Land / 103610 words

Louis is sure he’s stumbled upon a secret, underground nightclub, though that is far from the truth. He’s also pretty sure he’s stumbled upon Apollo, which… isn’t very far from the truth, actually.

Next to your Heartbeat (where I sould be) / 130821 words

All it takes for them to fall in love is one night. All they have to do is wait one year to see each other again.

Yet, when Louis returns after his year abroad, the boy who's got his arms wrapped around Harry isn't him. It isn't a stranger either, which should make walking away all that easier. After all, friend's don't lust after their mate's boyfriends.

Technically, doing the right thing should be easy - but when has Louis ever been known to taking the easy way out?

Run Like the Devil / 139152 words

Louis hunts demons; Harry's the strangest demon he's ever met, and he keeps fucking meeting him.

Three Days in February / 187964 words

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

#self indulgent i just wanna be able to find them fast #larry fic rec #fic rec list #larry #fic rec #larry stylinson

[mab1905]

More Fitzjames content? Yeah... here’s a playlist for ya’ll...

These are songs which I think describe him at different points in his character developement or simply different aspects of his personality. Somewhat James/Crozier (Fitzier) but all about James.

(25 songs, 1 hour 33 min)

Song List + Most Character-Relevant Lyrics:

Fancy — Orville Peck

We didn't have money for food or rent / To say the least, we was hard pressed / Then Mama spent every last penny we had / To buy me a dancin' dress / Mama washed and combed and curled my hair / And she painted my eyes and lips / Stepped into a satin dancin' dress / That had a slit in the side clean up to my hips / It was red velvet trim, and it fit me good / Starin' back from the lookin' glass / There stood a woman where a half-gown boy had stood / ... / It sounded like somebody else that was talkin' / Askin', "Mama, what do I do?" / She said, "Just be nice to the gentlemen, Fancy / They'll be nice to you" / "Here's your one chance, Fancy, don't let me down / Here's your one chance, Fancy, don't let me down / Lord, forgive me for what I do / But if you want out, well, it's up to you / Now don't let me down now / Your mama's gonna move you uptown"

gold rush — Taylor Swift

What must it be like / To grow up that beautiful? / With your hair falling into place like dominos / ... / At dinner parties / I call you out on your contrarian shit / And the coastal town / We wandered 'round had never / Seen a love as pure as it / And then it fades into the gray of my day old tea / 'Cause you know it could never be

The Name Of The Game — ABBA

Your smile, and the sound of your voice / And the way you see through me / Got a feeling, you give me no choice / But it means a lot to me / So I wanna know / What's the name of the game?

Spectrum — Florence + The Machine

And when we come for you / We'll be dressed up all in blue / With the ocean in our arms / Kiss your eyes and kiss your palms / And when it's time to pray / We'll be dressed up all in grey / With metal on our tongues / And silver in our lungs / ... / And when we come back we'll be dressed in black / And you'll scream my name aloud / And we won't eat and we won't sleep / We'll drag bodies from the ground / So say my name / And every colour illuminates / And we are shining / And we'll never be afraid again

Dreamy Bruises — Sylvan Esso

How can we question / What we knows feels right / Black eyes turn to marigolds / In the morning light / Ohweeohweeoh kids move so slow / Shaken all over like some dogs at the pool / Ohweeohweeoh kids move so slow / They’re kicken all the records over acting like they hanging water / Ohweeohweeoh kids move so slow / Down in the basement where the sun don't show / Ohweeohweeoh kids movie so slow / Naked dollars wonder piles dreamy bruises rotten lovers / And they say I want you / To bend me back in two / To make me sing your tune / To make those words so smooth / Fill me like a song do

Wolf — Sylvan Esso

But no birds nor beast does he eat / He only wants the tenderest meat / And oh the sounds he makes them speak / Under all different patterns of sheets / ... / The modern wolf, the modern wolf / Drippin' in all the lives that he took / He'll go on home, try to wash them off / But when he shaves, he hears them call

Francis Forever — Mitski

On sunny days I go out walking / I end up on a tree-lined street / I look up at the gaps of sunlight / I miss you more than anything / I don't need the world to see / That I've been the best I can be, but / I don't think I could stand to be / Where you don't see me / And autumn comes when you're not yet done / With the summer passing by, but / I don't think I could stand to be / Where you don't see me

James — MGMT

James / If you need a friend / Come right over / Don't even knock / And I'll be home / The door is always open / And we both can say, "Who's laughing now?" / Oh, James / My little doll / You just go outside and you call / Oh, James / Oh, you're never too far off / If your fire's out / There's no need to shout / I'm always home / And walk on in / I'll make you tea and breakfast / And we both can say, "Who's laughing now?"

South London Forever — Florence + The Machine

I drive past the place that I was born / And the places that I used to drink / Young and drunk and stumbling in the street / Outside the Joiners Arm's like foals unsteady on their feet / With the art students and the boys in bands / High on E and holding hands with someone that I just met / I thought it doesn't get / Better than this / There can be nothing better than this / Better than this / And we climbed onto the roof, the museum / And someone made love in the glass / And I'd forgot my name / And the way back to my mother's house / With your black cool eyes and your bitten lips / The world is at your fingertips / It doesn't get better than this / What else could be better than this? / Oh, don't you know I have seen / I have seen the fields aflame / And everything I ever did / Was just another way to scream your name

Oh! You Pretty things — David Bowie

I think about a world to come / Where the books were found by the Golden ones / Written in pain, written in awe / By a puzzled man who questioned / What we work here for / All the strangers came today / And it looks as though they're here to stay / Oh You Pretty Things (Oh You Pretty Things) / Don't you know you're driving your / Mamas and Papas insane / Oh You Pretty Things (Oh You Pretty Things) / Don't you know you're driving your / Mamas and Papas insane / Let me make it plain / You gotta make way for the Homo Superior

Venus As A Boy — Björk

His wicked sense of humor / Suggests exciting sex / His fingers they focus on her and touches / He's Venus as a boy / ... / All across your lips, oh, then until / Well be that it's a little now, until / He believes in a beauty / He's Venus as a boy / He believes in a beauty and gentle

Winds Change — Orville Peck

Had a lover but I lost my patience / Gonna get a song on a radio station / Got a fire but you just can't use it / I don't mean no lies, baby, please don't lose it / Lost my way on the other side / I know why, I don't know when / From the way that we said goodbye / I knew I'd never see you again / Left my mind in the Salt Lake City / Met a lot of men who would call me pretty / Pack of reds, watch the days get colder / Don't it make you cry, how we're getting older?

Fluorescent Adolescent — Arctic Monkeys

Oh the boy's a slag / The best you ever had / The best you ever had is just a memory / And those dreams weren't as daft as they seem / Not as daft as they seem / My love, when you dream them up... / Flicking through a little book of sex tips / Remember when the boys were all electric? / Now when she's told she's gonna get it / I'm guessing that she'd rather just forget it / Clinging to not getting sentimental / Said she wasn't going but she went still / Likes her gentlemen not to be gentle / Was it a Mecca dauber or a betting pencil? / Oh the boy's a slag / The best you ever had / The best you ever had is just a memory / And those dreams weren't as daft as they seem / Not as daft as they seem / My love, when you dream them up / Falling about / You took a left off Last Laugh Lane / Just sounding it out / But you're not coming back again.

Cheerleader — St. Vincent

I've had good times / With some bad guys / I've told whole lies / With a half smile / Held your bare bones / With my clothes on / I've thrown rocks / Then hid both my arms / I've played dumb / When I knew better / Tried so hard / Just to be clever / I know honest thieves / I call family / I've seen America / With no clothes on / I don't know what I deserve / But for you I could work / Cause I don’t want to be a cheerleader no more

Queen Bitch — David Bowie

She's so swishy in her satin and tat / In her frock coat and bipperty-bopperty hat / Oh God, I could do better than that / Oh, yeah / She's an old-time ambassador / Of sweet talking, night walking games / Oh and she's known in the darkest clubs / For pushing ahead of the dames / If she says she can do it / Then she can do it, she don't make false claims / But she's a queen and such a queen / Such a laughter is sucked in their brains / Now she's leading him on / And she'll lay him right down / Yes, she's leading him on / And she'll lay him right down / But it could have been me / Yes, it could have been me

Boys Keep Swinging — David Bowie

Heaven loves ya / The clouds part for ya / Nothing stands in your way / When you're a boy / Clothes always fit ya / Life is a pop of the cherry / When you're a boy / When you're a boy / You can wear a uniform / When you're a boy / Other boys check you out / You get a girl / These are your favorite things / When you're a boy / Boys / Boys / Boys keep swinging

Caterpillars (Of The Common Wealth) — Will Connolly

You know you'll always be my valentine / Now swear to god that you will never tell / They're streaming every indiscretion live / For caterpillars of the commonwealth / Gotta go / You can stay / Make yourself at home / Gotta go / This campaign / Don't run itself you know / You've got potential little parasite / I tie your hands so i can wish you well / Cuz i'm a gentleman and you are like / A caterpillar of the commonwealth / Gotta go / I said no / You need to know your role / Gotta go / I said no / It's all under control

Imposters (Little By Little) — The Fratellis

You wear your mask, I'll wear mine / They don't come cheap, but they fit just fine / You can be her and I can be him / We can both sink when the rest all swim / ... / We can pretend that our fates were entwined / A beautiful lie is the beautiful kind / Everybody knows that the sun still sets / And everybody gives and everybody gets / ... / I could be the one that you just can't shake / Till you swear that your eyes go blind / We can disappear till the sun burns a hole / In the life that we left behind

Sweet Painted Lady — Elton John

I'm back on dry land once again / Opportunity awaits me like a rat in the drain / We're all hunting honey with money to burn / Just a short time to show you the tricks that we've learned / If the boys all behave themselves here / Well, there's pretty young ladies and beer in the rear / ... / Forget us we'll have gone very soon / Just forget we ever slept in your rooms / And we'll leave the smell of the sea in your beds / Where love's just a job and nothing is said

Super Trouper — ABBA

Super trouper beams are gonna blind me / But I won't feel blue / Like I always do / 'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you / ... / So I'll be there when you arrive / The sight of you will prove to me I'm still alive / And when you take me in your arms / And hold me tight / I know it's gonna mean so much tonight

Babooshka — Kate Bush

She sent him scented letters / And he received them with a strange delight / Just like / His wife / But how she was before the tears / And how she was before the years flew by / And how she was when she was beautiful / She signed the letter / All yours...

Paris is Burning — St. Vincent

I write to give word the war is over / Send my cinders home to mother / They gave me a medal for my valor / Leaden trumpets spit the soot of power / They say, "I'm on your side / "When nobody is, 'cause nobody is / "Come sit right here and sleep / "While I slip poison in your ear" / We are waiting on a telegram / To give us news of the fall / I am sorry to report / Dear Paris is burning after all

Dream of Sheep — Kate Bush

Oh I'll wake up to any sound of engines / Every gull a seeking craft / I can't keep my eyes open / Wish I had my radio / I'd tune into some friendly voices / Talking 'bout stupid things / I can't be left to my imagination / Let me be weak, let me sleep and dream of sheep / Ooh, their breath is warm / And they smell like sleep / And they say they take me home / Like poppies, heavy with seed / They take me deeper and deeper

Hunger — Florence + The Machine

At seventeen, I started to starve myself / I thought that love was a kind of emptiness / And at least I understood then, the hunger I felt / And I didn't have to call it loneliness / ... / Tell me what you need, oh, you look so free / The way you use your body, baby, come on and work it for me / Don't let it get you down, you're the best thing I've seen / We never found the answer but we knew one thing / ... / And it's Friday night and it's kicking in / In that pink dress, they're gonna crucify me / Oh, and you in all your vibrant youth / How could anything bad ever happen to you? / You make a fool of death with your beauty, and for a moment / I forget to worry

#Spotify #fanmix #gay #fanwork #playlist #i have a crippling addiction to making playlists #james fitzjames #fitzier #francis crozier #francis rawdon moira crozier #Jim fitzjimmy #james fitzjames + gender = ? we dont know her #spotify playlist

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Smut?? *sigh* Oh how i've missed it. Also, how do I choose just one? Okay, how about no. 33 “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.” (Don't mind me, I'm just too fond of jealousy fics)

Your time is now, friend! You picked a good one. It went… places I didn’t expect. I hope you enjoy it!

Best Man (and a Friend of the Bride)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle)Rating: E/NSFWWord count: 5717

33. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”

Peter escaped the banquet hall at a near-run while the guests were still applauding Betty and Ned’s first dance. After the newlyweds had burst into the room not long before, Ned had broken away to give Peter an important heads-up: that Ned’s mom had informed all of his cousins that the Best Man was single and they were just waiting until the dancing to pounce. It freaked Peter out to know that a bunch of strangers had been checking him out while he stood at the head of the aisle, clapping his best friend supportively on the shoulder as the music cued Betty’s entrance.

Even in the face of matrimony (and it had been right in Peter’s face for the better part of two years as he fulfilled his role as Best Man), it wasn’t that Peter was a commitment-phobe, some sort of serial one-night-stand-er. He simply wasn’t in a rush to marry young. Plus, he was trying to keep his wits about him today of all days; May had warned that people could get a little nuts at weddings, what with the atmosphere of romantic gravitas thicker than the icing on the big white cake. She was probably back there right now, trying to intercept Ned’s eager cousins to give Peter a head start.

As he moved away down the corridor towards the front of the hotel, the thud of pop-y bass transitioned into the tones of two people attempting to keep an argument quiet. Up ahead, a dark-haired man crossed out of a room and pushed angrily through the front doors. They didn’t slam, which took some of the effect out of it.

Peter wondered if he should turn back, but if the other arguer came this way, it would look like he was trying to slink away after eavesdropping. He would just… be casual and slip right past.

Except, when he was passing the room the fight had occurred in, the other person, a woman his age, walked out. He grabbed her shoulders instinctively before she could run into him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Peter told her surprised expression, belatedly releasing her.

“Oh, this?” she asked, circling her face with a finger. “It’s not fear, it’s relief. I thought you were Brad storming back in for round two.”

He could guess, but it would be better to ask.

“Brad?”

“My…” The woman paused. “…ex-boyfriend.”

Peter noticed a few tears overflowing her brimming eyes and patted his pants for a Kleenex, coming up empty. Damn, he remembered feeling one when he stuffed his tie into the same pocket after the ceremony.

“Sorry,” he said, meaning it, “I think I had a tissue in my jacket, but I left it in the… in the room.”

‘Banquet hall’ was not coming to him as she gave an unconcerned shrug and tossed her loosely braided hair over her shoulder before catching him head-on with brown eyes that were even more brilliant for their shininess. She made do by swiping away the fullest tears and patting beneath her eyes with her thumbs.

“I’m fine,” she said and he felt bad for not asking.

While she sniffled and angled her head back to keep any remaining tears at bay, Peter glanced down, taking in the length of her dark copper dress. It would probably photograph stunningly outside, against all those red and gold leaves on the trees lining the hotel’s drive. Damn Ned for dragging him into the wedding photographer conversation. Everywhere Peter looked at this place, he saw lighting opportunities and reflections of the couple’s autumnal colour scheme. Stupid scenic, postcard-town venue. He looked quickly back up to the woman’s face, which was now more composed.

“I’m Peter.” He cleared his throat. “By the way.”

She nodded and said, “MJ. Betty’s mentioned you.”

“So you’re… bride’s side?” That term came to him.

“Oh yeah, she and I go way back, or as far as you can go back when people get married in their early twenties.”

“Right.” Peter laughed. “Me and Ned too.” But the small talk was bothering him. He met MJ’s eyes seriously. “I’m sorry, but I really need to know what the fuck that guy’s problem was.”

She laughed in what looked like surprise.

“How do you know I didn’t cause the problem?”

“Did you?” he asked to humour her.

MJ shrugged, appearing genuinely thoughtful.

“Sort of. You want details?”

“Nah, it’s none of my business.” He was just quietly pissed off that some dick could breeze out and leave this woman crying. At a wedding. This was, like, the exact opposite of what May had warned him about. No romance in sight.

She leaned sideways into the wall, crossed her arms, and sighed. He copied her, minus the sigh.

“First, I want to note that someone’s ability to cite George Orwell is not a strong enough reason to stay in a relationship with them. You got that, Peter?”

“Noted.”

She sighed again and rubbed more aggressively at the tear tracks drying on her cheeks.

“Would you believe the fight started with a proposal?”

Peter was usually more of a listener, but he could tell MJ needed him to contribute. Maybe she wasn’t a natural conversation-hog either.

“Isn’t proposing at somebody else’s wedding, like, bad manners?”

“Really bad,” she agreed with such vehemence that he understood why she and Betty were good friends. “It’s rude as fuck to take attention away from the bride and groom, but Brad’s a self-centered shithead like that, so I probably should have seen this coming.”

“That’s the problem with the Brads of the world,” Peter observed with sarcastic faux-wisdom. “You’re so focused on how self-centered they are and how much of a shithead they’re being that you forget the unpredictability factor. That’s the killer.”

MJ snorted.

“Right? Anyway, so I pulled him out here, because he started fucking whipping out that ring box while Betty and Ned were still dancing―” Peter shook his head in disgust. “―and while we were getting into it, I had this moment where I just stared at him and felt zero desire to keep talking, or hearing him talk. And, I guess, if I felt like that right after he tried to propose… I mean, that should be one of the emotional highlights of my life. Like, forget that his timing was shitty and selfish, I still should’ve been thrilled, on some level, that this guy I’d been with for the past two and a half years wanted to marry me. And I wasn’t. I think that’s why I started crying.”

She breathed deeply and Peter was staggered that he’d heard someone exorcise their feelings so well and so wastelessly. He admired her. Abruptly, MJ laughed.

“So that was a lot to unload on a stranger.”

“I’m not a stranger, I’m your friend’s husband’s best friend!” he joked. “And I’m glad you explained. Otherwise, my plan was to assume that you were crying for Brad, because he doesn’t get to spend any more time with you.”

“You know, I’m impressed that you picked that up so quickly.”

“Well,” Peter shrugged, referencing Ned’s recent vows, “I’ve heard that sometimes you just know.”

They laughed until the front doors opening (not Brad―they both turned to look) shoved a wave of chilly air into the hotel. Peter wished he had his jacket to give her. He felt a little unbalanced, accidentally pairing up with this stranger after actively running away from the potential for that same thing down the hall. Instead of wading in, testing the waters, he’d shot down into a sinkhole. That wasn’t exactly what he’d been hoping to find either. Because he hadn’t been hoping to find anything. Yet he really wanted to be around her; attraction wasn’t something he’d closed himself off to.

“We should get out of this hallway,” MJ suggested.

“Do you want to…” Peter jerked his thumb back towards the banquet hall. “…dance?” He winced. “Or is that a terrible thing to ask because, shithead or not, you were just almost engaged?”

She tilted her head side to side, considering.

“Pretty terrible. On a related note, do you want to come hang out in my room?”

His mouth fell open slowly and he straightened up. Saying ‘yes’ too fast… that would be another example of bad manners, wouldn’t it? If she asked though, he’d be lying to say that wondering how the fabric of her dress would feel sliding through his hands as he removed it hadn’t been taking up half his brain power since the second he saw her.

“We’ll go back to the reception in a bit,” MJ assured him. “I just need to take my shoes off and be blissfully alone for a few minutes.”

“I’m flattered that you can already feel alone when I’m in a room with you,” he said sarcastically, smiling to take the edge off. “This conversation is way better for my ego than dancing with one of Ned’s cousins.”

She laughed, easy, and reached out to grab Peter’s forearm. It shot a tingle through him probably even less appropriate than contemplating going back to MJ’s room with her. Unconsciously, he pushed his tongue against the inside of his lip as he watched her mouth.

“Dude, they were talking about your thighs through the whole ceremony. I was sitting in front of them.”

“You probably started it,” he teased, brushing a strand of hair away from her face like he was also a casual toucher. It was tough to tell whether she was blushing or just flushed from her argument.

“Nah, I was too busy looking at your arms. That jacket could only hide so much.” Her gaze dropped pointedly to one of his biceps. With his arms crossed, his dress shirt strained.

They were joking around, right? People flirted at weddings. All people. Including determined bachelors and brand-new singletons.

“Look who’s talking,” Peter countered, sweeping his eyes down her silky dress. The hug and drape of it.

Harmless flirting. Totally harmless. MJ gave him a thorough once-over.

“So… yes or no?”

Her hotel room had only her things in it and he wondered how he would’ve felt to encounter the heavily ridiculed Brad’s luggage.

“He left his bag in the car,” MJ explained, tossing the key card onto a table with an elegant flick. She flung her small purse to land at the head of the bed on a pillow. “He didn’t want us to stay overnight. Figured we could make the drive back into the city when things were winding down.”

“At what time? Three in the morning? Not a great plan.” Peter was puffing himself up every time he cut a slice off the absent Brad. He was aware of it, but he also couldn’t stop himself.

She sat on the edge of the queen-size bed, then changed her mind, crouching down at the mini-fridge and extracting a teeny bottle. Peter stood by as she unscrewed and sniffed it.

“No,” she gasped, quickly returning it to the fridge.

“You’re ok, right?” he asked tentatively.

MJ sat back and turned her head to look at him.

“I wasn’t going to drink myself into a stupor, I’m just curious. I like to explore my surroundings.”

Not quite an answer, but whatever.

She stood and glanced at the blank screen of the TV.

“You want to watch something?”

“Uh, no, that’s ok. We can just talk,” Peter said. Talk about how people hooked up at weddings. Right.

“Talk.” MJ nodded and sat beside him. “Sure. That’s a good idea. I think we skipped some of the general stuff when I dove straight into my drama. We could cover something a little less personal.”

“For sure.”

He caught her looking at him from the corner of her eye, just like he was doing to her. In a second, they were kissing fiercely, his hands on her shoulder and the back of her neck, hers clutching the front of his shirt. They twisted towards each other and her far knee nudged his thigh.

“Are impulsive decisions ever right?” MJ wondered, eyes closed, as he nipped her lip and kissed messily over to her ear.

“Don’t ask me that,” Peter mumbled into her ear. His hand played with the strap of her dress, dragging it over her shoulder and back up. Suspending himself in that place of temptation.

“What would Brad think―”

“Don’t ask me that either,” he requested before she could finish the question.

He felt for her knee and tucked his fingers behind it, wrinkling the fabric of her dress between his warm hand and the hot place at the back of her knee. Such a little tug, he thought as they kissed again, to bring her right into his lap. Peter gripped the back of her neck and stroked his tongue into her mouth. MJ’s head was practically lolling, she was so turned on. Ok, he could concede that this was something he missed during his careful state of singlehood. But it wouldn’t have been like this with a Leeds cousin, hadn’t been like this in Peter’s last actual relationship (sorry, Liz) or his handful of Tinder nights.

This wasn’t supposed to happen―his cock thickening in his black suit trousers, MJ’s long fingers undoing the tiny buttons of his shirt―but it could. They’d collided while fleeing in two different directions and now, maybe, they could run parallel for a while. If…

“Actually,” Peter continued, their noses bumping as he shook his head, “could you not say that name again?”

“I could do that.”

His fingers flexed and she swung onto his lap, dress slipping and sliding under his hand. He pressed a palm to the small of her back until she lowered her hips to his, then, as soon as they touched, Peter grew restless and flipped them, hauling MJ up the bed on her back. Her heart was racing, he could see. Her hands were hungry as they roamed his chest where his shirt hung open. She shuffled her dress until she was able to bend her knees on either side of his hips, kicking her high heels to the floor. They (Peter and MJ) had probably damaged her braid.

Propped over her, Peter pushed the delicate straps from her shoulders, one at a time, while she watched him. He peeled the front of her loose dress down with the slight dampness of his palm, caressing along her sternum. No bra underneath. There was a zipper at the side that he hadn’t noticed; she undid it for him.

He dipped his face to kiss the center of her chest, then lifted his head again, looking seriously into MJ’s receptive, unswerving stare.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole. You realize that, right?”

Slowly, he felt her hook her feet securely behind his calves, neck lifting gracefully from the bed as she did so. Always watching his eyes.

“Works for me,” MJ said. “Though that is going to make it a lot more difficult to feel like I’m alone in this hotel room.”

She grinned and he dove into it, kissing her enthusiastically and rocking his hips into hers. Peter shoved his shiny black shoes off with the toes of his opposite feet while using his hands to wriggle the top of her dress down to her waist. With a tremulous breath he hoped wasn’t the beginnings of regret, MJ helped him out of his dress shirt and tossed it unceremoniously aside. He didn’t look away to see if the article even made it over the edge of the bed.

And that was as far as they got, the both of them topless, when MJ felt around for her clutch and extracted a condom that had been intended for another guy’s erection. His excitement was momentarily quelled. As she passed it to him, chucking her purse away, Peter glanced at the wrapper before tearing it open. Good news: it wasn’t some inferiority-complex-inducing jumbo size. He exhaled slowly through his nose in relief and gazed at the peaked nipples of her bare breasts as he unzipped himself, pushed his boxers out of the way, and rolled the condom on. MJ hiked the hem of her dress up her thighs, the entire swishy length now just a fold of fabric around her hips, shimmering softly in the yellow light of the hotel room.

Peter dug his nose beneath her jaw and felt between her thighs with an eager hand. The room was snugly still around them, the sound of his own breathing in his ears. MJ gave a little gasp and dropped her legs wider at his touch. Her underwear felt lacy and―more germane―wet. He groaned and hauled the lingerie down her legs, stretching and wrenching instead of patiently asking for her to lift her hips, unbend her knees.

His fingers returned to her, dipping into her wetness and rubbing it up over her clit until her thighs gave a tremble. He kissed gradually down her throat. Laying her hands on his shoulders, MJ ran them across to the back of his neck. Peter traced a teasing circle around her entrance with the tip of his middle finger and, abruptly, her hand was gripping his hair.

“This isn’t a slow dance, Peter,” she told him, chin tipped up to unconsciously mirror how she’d pulled his head back. Her other hand wove down and found Peter’s wrist, forcing his finger inside her. “We aren’t making memories.”

He laughed, appreciating her bluntness, and raked a hand through his dishevelled hair the second she released it.

“I guess I just normally―”

“I don’t care.” MJ smiled. “Just be the hot Best Man and I’ll be a friend of the bride, ‘cause that’s what it seems like we both need. If you can’t do that, then get on your back and I’ll do it for you.”

Peter laughed again and bit at her neck―lightly, then harder as he felt her sink into the plush comforter they hadn’t bothered to turn down. When she moaned and bucked slightly to get his finger (positioned by her) moving, Peter curled it inside her and kissed her mouth to swallow some of the sound that was making his blood so hot.

“No, you’re definitely staying on your back,” he muttered against her lips.

MJ just nodded lazily, eyes shut, when he added another finger and pumped them faster. Her grip twisted gently around his wrist and Peter’s eyes nearly rolled back imagining the same motion on his dick. He didn’t know her―not ‘that well,’ but know her, period―but he was sure it was exactly what she wanted him to imagine.

He watched her stretch a hand over her head and grasp the edge of the mattress, fingers sneaking between it and the headboard. Kissing her hard, Peter hooked his fingers into her twice more, then withdrew his hand (she moved hers to the back of his neck). Arousal smeared her thigh as he clutched it and nudged his cock against her entrance, pressing inside when the angle felt right.

A little while for him and, for her, the first time in years with a new partner. They both had something to get used to and they both started off gasping, quickly rearranging their limbs to hold each other closer as Peter sunk deeper. A quick squeeze from MJ’s legs tangling around the back of his jerked him all the way inside her and she immediately bore down with her hips like she could pin him there from underneath. The forcefulness of it was hot. Liz had never been very… but no, they weren’t bringing their exes into this. Not into this hotel room, not into this bed.

Peter wrapped his arm all the way around MJ, stretching beneath her back to grasp her ribcage with firm fingers. He resisted slipping his other hand into her hair because it would demolish whatever remained of the braid that suited her so well; instead, he braced his forearm on the bed and cupped her bare shoulder in his palm. The heat and friction of the two of them moving against each other was raising the scent of whatever MJ had massaged into her skin to make it so soft. He inhaled deeply, tracing his lips down to her collarbone to leave a lingering kiss. With his arms bound up by her body and his legs increasingly swayed by the guiding action of hers, Peter went to rapid work with his hips.

Panting and groaning, MJ was as collaborative as she was combative―dragging him in with her legs and rocking her hips fiercely in pursuit of pleasure―and he wasn’t sure at all that she’d really surrendered, despite remaining on her back. But that wasn’t really what he wanted, was it? Wedding hookups, by whatever definition of them existed, were supposed to be easy, and yet Peter wanted a second go-round. Wanted to see her lotion lined up with her hair products and her makeup by the sink in the en suite when he brushed his teeth.

He inhaled and gave his head a small shake. This wasn’t his hotel room and MJ wasn’t his girlfriend. She wasn’t looking for that. He wasn’t looking for that. Ugh, he couldn’t think about this anymore.

Peter struggled to find a good moment to change positions and ended up just flipping them while she continued to writhe. He thought it was reluctance to put too much space between their groins, but, on his back and tossing a curl of hair off his forehead, he was staggered when MJ progressed to torturously drawn-out rises and falls of her hips. Obviously unembarrassed to be suddenly astride a near-stranger, she’d pressed her palms to his chest for leverage as she eased herself up and down.

“Not a slow dance,” he groaned, hips bucking pleadingly each time she withdrew. But it felt deliriously good and Peter smoothed his hands somewhat possessively up her thighs.

“What,” she panted, tugging the pooling skirt of her dress out of the way as she rode him, “do you have to give a speech or something?”

Peter laughed, just once―it was all he could spare the oxygen for, huffing to thrust up into her.

“I do, actually. But Betty scheduled everything to the minute. The speeches don’t start until nine.”

“Lots of time,” MJ decided, jerking forward and back on his lap, so incredibly tight around him after months of his fingers and palm.

“Mmm,” Peter agreed. He slid his hands a little higher and started trying to intertwine their fingers.

She shook him off, returning her hands to his chest, and glanced briefly down and away.

“Not that we’re going to take long.”

“No.”

What could he do but agree? He exhaled, chest falling beneath her hands, wanting to tumble MJ down on top of him. She gave him a look and he thought it might’ve been because he wasn’t totally convincing (spending the night with her would be nice!) and he held her gaze until her eyes appeared panicked. Too intense, he told himself. Then Peter elbowed her wrists aside to collapse her onto his body, rolling them to land on top of her again.

“You’ve got good form,” he joked, slamming his hips forward so he struck deep, making her mouth open in a silent scream, “but you just take too goddamn long.”

“Show me how it’s done then, Best Man,” MJ shot back when she could get the words out.

With an eager grin, Peter pounded into her like he’d warned her he would. She didn’t try to trade places, or even voice a request to do so, too busy sucking in air each time he drove forward. Keeping himself on his elbows, he groped her breasts. Pinching her nipples made MJ speak his name in a high whine―“Peter”― that exhilarated him into a faster pace with his hips. He slid easily in and out of her slick channel, beginning to tremble with the feeling.

Meeting his wild thrusts, MJ reached up again, planting her palm against the headboard. Peter had to move one hand off her chest just to stroke down the underside of her arm. Her mouth quirked up in an unfamiliar expression; he realized what he’d done tickled her. To distract himself from wanting things he couldn’t, shouldn’t, have, Peter dropped his mouth to the center of her chest. He kissed her sternum before tracing his tongue over to her nipple and sucking it into his mouth. She let out a small scream and clenched fleetingly around his dick.

“Can you get off like this?” he mumbled, barely lifting his mouth from her, hips hastening.

MJ just nodded rapidly and closed her eyes. Maybe Peter watched her expression a second too long, because the question of whether she was imagining that he was Brad right now entered his mind. He still moved his hips, but he was numb until her free hand suddenly gripped his hair (fair, for her to wreck his carefully gelled down hair after his actions had made a mess of her braid). He almost laughed in relief and lowered his head to bite her nipple. He’d only seen the jerk for a few seconds, but Peter remembered Brad’s straight hair, shorter than his own. MJ could only be thinking of him, Peter, as her fingers loosened the curls he’d flattened with product to look more… what? Sophisticated or something, for the bridal party.

For these seconds, as her back arched, trapping his hand between them (not that he minded in the slightest), and MJ called out Peter’s name, she’d forgotten. Like he’d promised her. Fulfilling that promise was so monumental in his mind as his thrusts turned sloppy and he lost himself in her, that he nearly repeated the thought aloud. Luckily, he managed to turn it into a gravelly grunt, delivering forceful final thrusts that shook her beneath him; MJ’s arm had gone limp in her bliss, no longer bracing her against the headboard. Those arms folded around the back of his neck as he slowed to a stop and let himself―just for a minute―rest on top of her.

“My hair is totally fucked,” she murmured against his forehead.

Peter laughed weakly and kissed MJ’s neck, then, with a crease between his eyebrows, drew himself out of her.

“Not to mention my dress,” she sighed as he stumbled a bit on jellified legs into the bathroom to toss the condom.

He fumbled with hitching his boxers and dress pants up and swung the door partly shut for a minute to splash cool water on his face before confronting his expression. Dazed. But would the guests―would Ned and Betty―suspect sex dazed? His gaze shifted up to his hair. Oh right. Yeah, that was probably a giveaway. Peter gave fixing his hair a half-hearted attempt, then left the bathroom, stretching his arms back and his chest forward.

MJ’s gaze was waiting for him. Probably not waiting for the proudly (if accidentally) displayed flex of his stomach and arms, but it seemed like it went over well; her mouth fell open. It had to be retaliation when she raised her hips from the mattress and pushed her bunched up dress down her legs to lie there totally nude. Then, she sat up, stood, and strode past him into the bathroom, wearing nothing more than a I know exactly what I’m doing to you smirk. She shut the door and Peter had to mentally get a hold of himself so he wouldn’t walk straight into it like a lovesick idiot and break his nose.

He found his shirt on the floor, looking like a used tissue―it was riddled with an impossible number of creases. Peter sighed and went to the hall closet where hotels always tucked the iron and ironing board. The wrinkles came out easily and he hung it on the back of the chair at the neat, untouched desk, pacing unhurriedly as he waited for MJ to emerge from the bathroom. She was probably trying to salvage her braid. No point in throwing his shirt on until they were ready to go. Assuming she’d want to head back at the same time. Shit, he was overthinking this again.

Peter caught sight of MJ’s crumpled ball of an outfit as he turned and figured he might as well iron her dress while he had the stuff out. His gaze also fell on her lacy black underwear, which he did not approach, for fear of sneaking them into his pants pocket (she’d know―one look and she’d know). He assessed the fabric, letting it slip sweetly between his fingers, then laid it across the ironing board and draped a clean towel (also in the hall closet) on top to protect it from the iron.

Exiting the bathroom as casually as she’d entered it, MJ went first to the bed; she collected and stepped into her underwear. Which was not really dressed enough for Peter’s dick not to care. His jaw tensed. The moment she spun towards him, the situation (his situation) was diffused. She laughed.

“You’re ironing?”

Peter shrugged, continuing to smooth the iron across the towel.

“You were right about your dress. It was pretty fucked and I wanted you to feel good walking back in there.”

She appeared taken aback, but maybe in a good way, a surprised way, dropping her eyes to the floor and smiling to herself. When she glanced up again, she was trying to conceal the softened expression, rubbing a thumb over her eyebrow. Her hair looked good, he noticed. Not as tidy as it had been, but the escaped strands that waved around her face… they looked… well, then looked… Peter swallowed and quit staring.

“I steamed the dress at home and changed into it here,” she offered, crossing her arms over her naked chest. With her wide stance, she looked way more at ease than he felt. “The material’s kind of delicate, so you have to be caref―”

“I’m being careful,” Peter assured her. “My aunt taught me to iron, like, a decade ago.”

“Oh.”

“You’re surprised,” he noted with a grin.

He watched her back up and sit on the end of the bed.

“I’ve never had a man iron my clothes.” She snorted. “I would’ve been so shocked if Brad had ever…” MJ’s expression fell and her eyes flicked to his. “Is it ok if I say his name?”

Peter gave an awkward shrug and shifted the dress to iron the last foot or so. Too awkward. She sighed heavily.

“Peter, we should talk.”

“Hey,” he interrupted in a cheerful tone, “I’m just the Best Man and you’re a friend of the bride.”

“It’s too soon.” MJ laughed humourlessly. “It’s way too soon. Neither of us needs… this.”

Which instantly made him feel like he needed this. Because he’d forgotten everything with one glimpse of the woman in the dress like melted copper.

“I think this is just about done,” Peter said, shamelessly trying to divert her from speaking any harsher truths by drawing attention back to the dress. He set the iron aside, unplugged it, whisked away the towel. Everything was fine.

“I don’t mean this to be condescending,” she said, gently and absolutely not distracted, “but you might not know what it’s like to end a serious relationship. I don’t regret what you and I just did, but I know that, after ending things with Brad, having time to be by myself is vital, Peter. I don’t want you to feel―”

“I was engaged.”

The room was quiet, apart from the faint hiss of the cooling iron.

“Yeah,” Peter confirmed, though she hadn’t said anything. “I was engaged to my last serious girlfriend. Maybe you know Liz Allan?” He met her eye and MJ didn’t say anything. “She’s friends with Betty too. Obviously RSVPed ‘no’ to this particular occasion. It’s been more than a year since we were together, but… There were a lot of reasons.”

“For me and Brad too.” She sighed and he felt like it had come from his own lungs, releasing some tension. “Though it always feels like just one in the moment you break up.”

He nodded and glanced at the dress, then at her. MJ stood and walked over to him. Peter held her dress out to her, zipping it up along her side with intimate care as she got the straps to lie where she wanted them.

“You did an incredible job,” she said, inspecting the length of fabric once again draping her body. “Thank you.” The strength of his desire to tell her she deserved to be taken care of ached in his chest. “Come here,” MJ insisted. Peter was powerless.

With a wry smile, she lifted her hands to his hair, combing the sides between her fingers and pushing the front off his forehead.

“That’s better.”

He chuckled.

“Well, it couldn’t get any worse.”

They went back to the reception together, MJ holding the door open for him with an, “After you, Best Man.” She looked absolutely stunning and, if there were any Leeds cousins around, Peter didn’t notice them.

The two of them danced once or twice, then more when the less committed wedding guests headed to bed. Somehow, Peter and MJ weren’t among them and, with fewer partners in the room and on the floor, it was easy to drift together over and over. Eventually, they just stayed that way, exchanging calm smiles with Betty and Ned until the happy couple left too.

“I didn’t mean never,” MJ whispered when it was just them in the empty banquet hall.

The DJ was off the clock and they’d switched over to music from their combined playlists. Heart thudding, Peter held her closer.

“I know. I can wait.” After a minute, he added, “I’m pretty sure you’re what I was waiting for anyway.”

MJ leaned her head into his as he swayed them.

“You wanna go back to my room? We might as well sleep together in the less exciting sense and I’ll count today as one big exception.”

Peter grinned, leaning into her in turn and settling in for a little while longer.

“Come on, MJ. Give me one more slow dance.”

#my writing #spider-man #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #spider-man fanfiction #fanfiction #MCU #Marvel MCU #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #Avengers #avengers fic #avengers fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones #nettypot

[drunk-with-dreams]

Run your fingers through your hair

Let's pick up from where we left off

Call all your friends, announce the new victory

Once you were sweet to me, knock it off

The music doesn't move you, doesn't soothe you

Doesn't prove you're worth a dime

You work 'round the clock, watch it tick and tock

But this isn't your time

Move over son, it's my turn to shine

Was there ever a moment

One small slice in history

When I took you seriously?

When your belt and your shoes

Did not announce your poor taste so fearlessly?

'Cause that's news to me

And you can forget it, I get it

I just don't let it get to me

I regret to inform I do not fret or mourn

The way things used to be

It's all in the past now, it's all gone

And the only way into the sun is walking

But you'd rather run

You'd rather run away

The songs he writes are for "dad"

The true love lost 'fore he ever had

If stories begun "If father loved son"

We wouldn't be feelin' so bad

But doesn't everyone?

And it's not that I hate you

I never loved you enough to hate you

To get even or mad so as not to seem sad

Just seems ungrateful

'Cause really, I am thankful I'm sad

Maybe we're the same unabashed and unashamed

Then again, I dunno where you came from

You keep carvin' out names

First Jamie then James

And I can't keep up to restrain you

How come?

We two came together for worst and for better

It's true

And the weather is clever

But she's not the only one getting over you

It's me, too

And the only way into the sun is walking

But you'd rather run

You'd rather run away

My god, it's no fun to watch you play dumb

With your ugly hand on her thigh

And she's nervous too, but politeness eschews

The impulse to finger deny

Plus, your girlfriend's a spy

And what would she think to look up from her drink

And find you in your sad little vest tryin' hard to undress

The girls you sat down next to?

She'll think nothing

She'll be thinking of you

I'm glad I don't know the places you go

I'm glad for you and for them

Let's be discreet if we are to meet on Ludlow ever again

Don't mention Ben

It's funny what you miss, it's funny what you don't

I've thought it all through, the potential to fondly reminisce is this:

I won't

And the only way into the sun is walking

But you'd rather run

You'd rather run away

Don't say we got along

That's remarkably wrong

It doesn't suggest or imply

The thing about us you don't dare discuss

We never got along famously, we just tried

I tried to be good, I tried to be gracious and kind

But working with you has done nothing but prove a total waste of time

'Cause the real curse is your mind

Sometimes at night I stare at the ceiling

And wonder what's wrong with me

To involve myself with people

Who don't know what my true feeling might possibly be

Who latch onto my strength like it's all they've got

It takes all of my strengths

And I go through such lengths

To show them it is not what they think they are stealing

And the only way into the sun is walking

But you'd rather run

You'd rather run away

Yes, the only way into the sun is walking

But you'd rather run

You'd rather run away

#jaymay #you’d rather run #sea green sea blue #Spotify