#aka the spending time with friends and family part of thanksgiving!

[blueberrythefrog]

Saw others making their own hat kids, so I wanted to make my own spin! My hat kid's name is Heleanor :)! Also for anyone that asks, here's the mods I used in the photos!; Character Creator, The Level I was using, Hat Adult's costume and the Dye that changes the skin tone! (Because my creator creator is broken in that department rn ;v;)

[waywardcrow]

Christmas blues.

Summary: Someone hurt his fairy and Bucky will do everything to fix it and give you the Christmas you deserve.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader.

WC: Almost 2K.

TW: Overprotective Bucky, sad reader because of an abusive ex, Christmas blues, talk about revenge and torture but just mentioned, crying, talk about cheating from reader’s ex and ex best friend, pinning dumbasses, ugly Christmas sweaters and Bucky wearing reindeer ears, kind of drunk writer (aka me), let me know if I missed something.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, please tell me if I make grammar mistakes.

Part of the Take my hand (wreck my plans) series.

Pictures from pinterest, graphic and dividers by the amazing @ firefly-graphics so all credits to the creators.

Something had happened, Bucky knew it.

You were different after coming home from visiting your parents. They were going on a cruise ship for Christmas so you’ll be spending it at the compound with everybody for the first time.

He could thought it was the perspective of not spending the holidays with your blood family but you were so excited before you left to have Thanksgiving with them, it didn’t make sense.

Every time someone tried to engage you in decorating the tree or bake cookies for the kids, you smiled politely and declined, leaving everyone worried.

“What’s up with fairy?” Sam asked when he arrived with Sarah and his nephews; they agreed to spend the holidays there so nobody feel left out.

“We don’t know” Natasha replied watching you leave after they failed once again, this time you didn’t want to go ice skating.

“You don’t know?” Sam raised a brow, crossing his arms in front of his chest with a silly smile “I didn’t thought you were familiar with the concept.”

Bucky left them bickering to go find you and he did, your gaze was set in the sunset, not paying much attention to the cold in the air that surrounded you in the balcony.

“Hi sweetheart” you barely reacted, more used than him to Bucky being charming with you.

“What are you doing here? You could catch a cold” Bucky saw you take in the thin layered Henley he was wearing, practically nothing compared to your coat.

“I don’t get sick, honey” he reminded you, making your skin heat despite the winter, feeling like a dumbass. What a scientist you were “I appreciate the concern, though.”

You nodded.

“Are you alright?”

“I should be the one asking that” he said, bumping you gently with his shoulder, Bucky was too delicate with you still but he made every day an effort to be more open, especially with you. He watched your lips become a firm line and his heart started to beat faster in his ribcage. Something had happened, he was sure “I’m here if you want to talk fairy, we all want you to be ok.”

That broke you.

A tear escaped your control and Bucky’s heart sink down, he couldn’t help it when he hugged you making you hid your face in his chest, making you wrap your arms around his waist.

He let you cry; rubbing circles in your back and when you calmed down, Bucky took you to your apartment to make you hot chocolate.

When it was ready Bucky sat next to you in your colorful coach, watching you took a sip while making a mental list of all the awful ways he will torture who hurt you.

“I ran into my ex while being at home” you said without looking at him, making Bucky’s whole body tense. He only heard a few things about him from Tony and Pepper but none were good “he is engaged now, to my ex best friend.”

Oh Bucky would rip his arms away from his body.

“Did he… what did he said to you?” he got closer to his fairy; it should have been very bad to have you crying like that.

Your lower lip trembled so did the mug in your hands so Bucky put his right one on top of yours.

“He said I was invited to the wedding, that Lara and him were grateful I brought them together like they didn’t cheat on me for a year” your voice cracked and more years followed.

That bastard, hot anger cursed through Bucky’s body, he will make them suffer.

“And then Louis made fun of me for buying too much in the Christmas market, he said he was sorry I don’t have anyone to spend Christmas with, like an adult so I have to overcompensate being childish.”

The entire time your eyes were focused in your hands, so embarrassed to be this honest with him when it was your idiotic ex who should be very concerned about what was coming to him, he will recruit Nat and Yelena and Tony to make sure he will pay for every one your tears.

“He is right” you said wiping your tears with your sleeve “I’m childish and dumb and…”

“Hey, hey” Bucky stopped your self-destructive train taking both of your hands in his “none of that is true, fairy” he reassured you making you look at him “he is an asshole, an abuser” Bucky spited that word out, thinking about someone like you having to live with people like that jerk made him want to punch him until his metal arm got tired “he is wrong, you are not what he says.”

“Thanks Bucky but…”

“Ah ah, I’m not letting you be mean with yourself, you’ll do the same for me” it was true, you were so gentle with him and always help him to be gentle with himself too “you deserve the whole universe, honey” Bucky cupped your face in his hands and your breath caught in your throat.

His ocean blue eyes were so kind, so full of trust that it was impossible to not believe his words.

God, he wanted to kiss you so bad but it wasn’t the time so he left a kiss in your forehead “You are not alone, you are so loved by everyone that meets you and it kills me that you have to suffer all that shit, I’m so sorry fairy.”

You hugged him and stay there for a while, feeling the pain in your heart becoming easier.

The next day  Bucky was knocking in your door before breakfast.

You were feeling bad for telling him all that, for letting him see that part of yourself that wasn’t bright, he had enough pain in his life and still he took yours and made it less heavy.

“Bucky? What are you doing here?” he looked so handsome even wearing the ugliest Christmas sweater you’ve ever seen “what are you wearing?” you whispered, not so sure if you were still sleeping, he was wearing reindeer ears too.

Did Tony and Bruce mess with the time lines again?

“We are going shopping, fairy” he handed you a matching sweater that looked your size “get ready, we leave in ten minutes to get waffles” and with that he disappeared in the hallway.

Confused you did what he said, maybe he needed help with his shopping and it was the least you could do after oversharing the previous night with him.

You met him in the elevators with your ugly sweater on and he smirked.

“You look good, fairy” bashful, you gave him a tiny smile and he felt it like a victory.

And the madness began.

True to his word, he took you for the best waffles you ever eat and then to the Christmas market in Brooklyn, still wearing his silly outfit, parting the crowded area like if he did that every random Sunday, oblivious to the chatter around you both and the not so discreet pictures some took of him. His whole attention was on you.

Bucky could recognize when you liked something, Louis words were still echoing in your mind but he made you feel so safe with him that remembering all your work with your therapist was easier and if you doubted before buying something, he would buy it for you.

You wouldn’t let Louis and Lara take anything more from you and he would help you with that.

“What do you think of this one? It seems perfect for Sam” he told you showing you a funny looking owl with a Santa hat, making you giggle.

“Put it some goggles on and then it will be perfect” you said without thinking, feeling all the cold leave your body when he throw his head back and laughed “oh no, forget I said that, poor Sam.”

“I’m never forgetting it doll, it’s exactly what I’m going to give him” he paid for the owl and gave the old lady in the vendor cart a smile that probably extended her life a decade.

Three hours later, lots of pretzels and hot chocolate you both were taking your car to go back home.

“Thank you for today” you said with a quiet voice when you parked outside the apartments “I know yesterday I was a lot, this made me feel better.”

“You’re never a lot, fairy, you are perfect” there was something else behind his words but before you could ask, Sam shout startled you.

“Hey, lovebirds, Sarah and Clint made lunch” he was wearing only shorts and a t-shirt which was insane but the basketball equipment explained a little, same as the presence of Thor, Cass, AJ and Yelena who looked very proud of herself.

“Let’s go” you said and follow the others, not noticing Bucky’s disappointment matched yours.

Christmas Eve was so much better than you expected, Natasha and Yelena didn’t leave you alone for a second, Wanda helped you wrap your presents, Tony, Morgan and Pepper would hug you randomly through the day and kiss your cheek, the rest of the team did things like that and you felt so loved.

Bucky made sure of it.

He didn’t tell you Louis and Lara were being taken care of, he probably never will, instead he choose to spend the afternoon making letters to Santa with the kids, having the perfect view of you from the living room while laughing at Morgan’s antics who tried to convince AJ and Cass that Happy was Santa. Nate was buying it by then and it was adorable, the chaos also reminded him of his sisters.

“Who wants dessert before dinner?” Yelena asked from the kitchen, the young widow didn’t miss the chance to steal sweets while you and the others cooked and apparently she wanted the kids to do the same.

There was a loud chorus of enthusiastic answers that made him wince even if the disapproval of the parents in the room made him smile. After a short but intense discussion, Sam and you convinced the others to let it happen, it was Christmas after all.

“Just one cookie, ok? We have to wait for dinner” Sam said holding the tray for them and the little munchkins yell, sugar high already “they are not for you, terminator.”

Sam tried to take them from him but you took the tray from your friend.

“Don’t listen to him, take as many as you want” you said, making a silly face at Sam who responded with a similar one.

“Thanks, fairy” Bucky took one of your cookies and barely noticed Sam going towards the Christmas tree “they smell so good.”

If that didn’t make your skin feel on fire, Morgan’s words did.

“Auntie fairy, you are under the mistletoe with Mr. Barnes” a giggle escaped the little girl and then the others kids who laughed at your reaction. The adults in the kitchen stayed in silence, despite Natasha’s “kiss her, dumbass” comment and Bucky… Bucky was looking at you like you were the only one he could see.

Biting your lip, you doubted for a heartbeat before standing in your tiptoes and giving him a kiss, short and sweet, just like you.

And then, Tony let out a wolf whistle, Yelena an exasperated sigh and you could hear Sam in the back asking who dressed an owl like him and put it in top of the tree but your focus was mostly in the handsome man in front of you who took you by the waist and kissed you again.

Merry Christmas lovelies! Hope you like this one, please tell me what you think, if you want to see more about Bucky and fairy, etc.

Love, Lily.

[britt-kageryuu]

Leo and Donnie are playing Minecraft together. Though the audience is watching Leo's POV.

Their models are in casual graphic shirts, flannel button downs and bandanas. Leo's shirt has a space unicorn, and Donnies shirt has a softshell turtle holding a knife with 'I'm Harmless, I swear".

"So, with Thanksgiving, and Black Friday coming up, I regret to inform you. That I am banned from going out to shop in person. They say smugly." Donnie says, for some reason proud of himself.

Leo just shakes his head, "Dee almost became known as a crazy shopper. Thankfully they were with Red, and purposefully kept away from the more crazy areas."

Leo is seen flying while pulling a couple Villagers in a boat, before landing near where Donnie is setting up a villager farm.

Around the area is multiple farms, both automated and not. With also a large Turtle Sanctuary along the nearby river.

"Bring those two over to the office building. Now the true reason I am not allowed to go out, is because someone attempted to take what I had obtained. So I may have pulled a taser out and lightly threatened anyone who got near me." Donnie explains while bouncing around the redstone and rails that make up the mechanics for their farm.

"Be glad that the security working that day were understandably very I don't give a-" Leo stops before he says what was likely not PG-13, "Even though by technically I could say the phrase, but some people don't like us using 'foul language'. Like I haven't been cursing under my breath in like 5 different languages."

"That can count as an Easter Egg, try to find which vods Blue is using foul Language. There isn't a prize, except bragging rights." Donnie announces while sprinting past Leo and smaking him with a neatherite shovel.

Leo who is very used to this just fires an arrow at Donnie in retaliation. Just barely missing an Iron Golem that his twin purposefully ran close too.

"Anywhozzle! Yeah, some of the security was just so done, they didn't bother with Dee. Just told him to check out and get out. Dee isn't banned from the store either, just told to leave." Leo says while shaking his head.

The two of them get the villagers into the 'Office Building' that will be their Villager Trading Center. Double checking that they can't get out of the building.

The two spend a good bit of time finishing the redstone, while replying to notifications, and occasionally getting a small startle from sound redemptions.

They were being asked about other reasons they can't go out on Black Friday, at least part of the answer was, "Buying things online is just slightly more convenient. Though there are a couple places that don't do deliveries, that we send April to pick up for us."

Then the conversation switched to Thanksgiving, and the spread Mikey was going to be making along side the family friends who are going to join them.

----------------------

Masterpost

I wanted to mention that they don't really do Black Friday aka the weirdest huge discount days of the year, because of economic reasons.

And Donnies cain instinct is at least part of why they don't.

Though the visual of the Turtles in baggy clothes fighting off random people for the most random deals, is pretty darn funny.

[things-stankyle-probably-said]

I meant to post this earlier but I was busy watching 3 nfl games in a row, oh well!

south park YA au thanksgiving idea (please reblog if you read the whole thing and please give feedback tell me what you thought, thank you)

stan isn't expecting much for thanksgiving, watch the games, eat some turkey, avoid his parents passive aggressive arguing as much as he can for the days leading up to it. then he gets a call from kyle asking if he'd like to join him and his family for thanksgiving this year But!! they're flying business class to connecticut because kyle's mom's sister aka the mother to kyle shwartz, wants them to come visit so they'll be staying in a mansion for 5 days

but kyle needs an answer now because his dad said they have 3 extra tickets if he and ike want to bring anyone on the trip and kyle picked stan, and they're leaving tomorrow on tuesday and coming back next sunday. stan thinks for a second but makes up his mind to say yes when he overhears his mom telling his dad the family is not wasting thanksgiving working on the weed farm selling "thanksgiving tegridy special weed" that smells like turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce. stan immediately tells kyle he'll be at his house ready to go to the airport first thing in the morning

after he hangs up kyle realizes if ike invites two friends, then he and stan will technically be "alone" on this trip since they're sharing seats on the plane and might share a room, they're not dating yet but the idea of their friendship getting a romance boost over the holidays when they just started their first year at college and are home for the holidays kinda freaks kyle out so he hastily calls kenny to invite him on the trip too as a buffer to make it more of a friends trip, however ike overhears kyle invite kenny right after inviting stan and he gets mad because he wanted to invite two friends from his minecraft team

but kyle convinces ike if kenny goes on the trip, he'll ask if he can bring karen, and kyle knows ike has been trying to tell karen mccormick how he feels about her for weeks with no luck, and maybe a change of scenery would help. ike calms down but then starts yelling at the phone to encourage kenny to say yes to kyle's invitation which he does, and of course asks if he can bring karen along, as they're both back in south park after living in nyc with kenny attending nyu and karen doing acting parts in off broadway shows and neither of them really want to spend thanksgiving at home while their parents argue over whether one can of green beans is enough for 5 people while kevin tries to pick up a thanksgiving shift at the autoshop to avoid being home like his siblings

after he gets off the phone kyle gets an incoming call from cartman. cartman asks if he should come over on thursday morning or afternoon to get a plate of thanksgiving food from kyle's family so he has something to eat on the way to his relatives in nebraska since he and his mom will be doing their annual road trip to have dinner there and spend a week visiting his aunts, uncles, and cousins. and kyle, annoyed that cartman would be so entitled to think he'd be invited to any part of his family's thanksgiving plans lies and tells him "jews don't celebrate thanksgiving"

thinking that's the end of that, kyle texts stan and kenny not to tell cartman about their plans, and they agree, the next day stan shows up to the broflovskis in the morning to go to the airport with them and is surprised that kenny and karen are also going on this trip but honestly doesn't think too hard about it, he's just happy to get a free trip and to be able to spend time with kyle and maybe when they're in connecticut at the mansion he'll find the right moment to ask kyle out

at the airport as they're taking an escalator down to their boarding gate, they see cartman and his mom going up the adjacent escalator to the boarding gate for the plane heading to nebraska, and while kenny, stan, and kyle try to pretend like they're not at the same airport, unfortunately cartman does notice his friends, and puts two and two together that kyle lied and everyone is going on a friends thanksgiving vacation except him, and it's basically a recreation of this meme with cartman in emily gilmore's place

[steamishot]

pre-thanksgiving

i'm so excited to have 4 days off! now that the weather is getting gloomier and colder, i'm excited to just chill at home and do nothing for the first time in a long time. finally, i'm not spending holidays alone because matt is working this week. this year for thanksgiving, my aunt/cousin will be making a turkey and we'll be celebrating at their house. matt and i even invited his parents to come over for a bit on thanksgiving day after he gets off his shift.

on my 5th time commuting to the office, i saw S again. i basically have seen everyone on my HR team minus I, who i haven't seen since 2020. i'm glad that seeing people has been staggered, otherwise i'd feel so overwhelmed reconnecting all at once. we had a department potluck and i realize how socially awkward i am. i recognized certain people but i didn't know what i'd talk to them about. however, since i was in office pre-covid, so much of the staff has changed.

unfortunately on this day, someone rear ended me in hollywood! i've only been driving less than two months and already had two accidents (one caused by me, lol). this one in particular is a headache because it's my first time dealing with a collision for an EV car. normal body shops don't want to be liable because of the electric parts. the girl who hit me has been responsive but also a little bit weird in gatekeeping information (she did not give me her policy number, opened the claim herself through AAA and did not give me any information). i had to call AAA myself to find out the information. it's been a week and we haven't moved along with the claim at all. in accidents, i usually make money but this time it seems like it's a loss. welp, i'm learning so much about tesla ownership lol.

giving grace: i'm learning to give myself more grace. moving back home comes with a lot of complex emotions. on one hand, i feel like i give myself extra pressure to adapt more easily because i've "done this my whole life" aka live in LA and our biggest supporters are here. however, i need to give myself grace that so much has changed and i'm really a newcomer. i'm in a different phase of life now, renting an apartment for the first time in a "new" neighborhood, financially stable, partnered, and haven't consistently driven for 4 years.

on top of that, i need to allow myself the space to grieve the past chapter. it was actually pretty confusing/traumatizing on 9/11 when movers came and packed 4 years of our lives into boxes in like 4 hours. besides our friends, we have no remnants left on the east coast. and we're already moving on with meeting up with other friends, double dates, etc. it just feels like a lot to take in.

friends: from my last blog post, L is fine thank god. he didn't respond to me for 2 weeks due to depression. my family hosted a party last friday and invited my cousins S&J and their kids over. i chose the names S&J for my cousins as a kid when they immigrated from cambodia. they were named after my best friends at the time S&J. S has been a consistent friend through the years, but J cut us (and all our mutual friends) off about 6 years ago. very coincidentally, J IG friended me a few days ago. i was like, what are the chances. i had dinner with my cousins S&J (don't remember when the last time we ever had dinner together was) and then friend J popped back up in my life.

[rae-gar-targaryen]

mi media naranja [holiday!AU - mickey "fanboy" garcia x fem!reader, aka "cielo"]

A/N: For Fanboy’s fangirls - a holiday celebration with Fanboy y Cielo. Lots of callbacks to my original Fanboy HCs  – so if you’ve been following their journey thus far, there will be lots in here for you. Bonus points if you get the references! 

Pairing: Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia x fem!civilian!reader (aka “Cielo;” as always no use of y/n – my readers are written ambiguous, but with a latina!reader in mind.)

Warnings: my writing is its own warning, smut, so 18+ ONLY – p in v sex, unprotected sex, v mild breeding kink, references to oral sex

Word Count: 5.8k of the warmth of a holiday spent together with your beloved, of chestnuts roasting on an open fire, of the cinnamon-orange passion of sharing half of yourself with someone else.

Summary: You spend your holidays with your sweet boyfriend. Mickey takes you home to visit his family, but of course, you make sure to indulge in the magic of the holiday, just the two of you [part of the Fanboy y Cielo ‘verse].

(moodboard courtesy of lovely @ouralcohol)

--

Divided holidays were a challenge. 

You and Mickey had opted to spend the few days preceding Christmas with his mother and his sisters, which meant, of course, holiday travel.

You'd left your beachside home in San Diego, packing gifts and luggage alike to make the trek to Mickey’s hometown. Artoo was set up with your friend for the few days you’d be gone. And it wasn’t as though you weren’t coming back in just a few days to celebrate Christmas with Mickey, just the two of you. It would go by in a flash. So why were you nervous?  

You had met his family before. And, of course, they’d never indicated anything other than that they’d liked you … Still, you’d felt the perpetual need to impress. To ensure that they still liked you, as though their opinion would have changed in the six months since you had seen them for the family’s summer beach weekend.

And the drive was pleasant enough, Mickey expressing to you ad nauseam that he was glad you were coming, 

“You don’t understand, cielo,” he urged. “Every time I talk to my tía it’s like – ‘¿Y tu novia? ¿Y tu novia?’” he parroted. “I swear, it’s like she’s convinced you don’t exist, even though my mom has literally met you.”

You patted his arm in comfort, offering him your coffee cup, which he eyed warily – all too familiar with your penchant for bitter brew. Politely shaking his head in refusal as he turned his eyes back to the road.

You shrugged.

“Oh, I’m familiar,” you assuaged. “My auntie is nosy, too, she does the same. Ever since I was in high school, always asking me where my boyfriend was, judging me if I didn’t bring anyone.”

“And?” Mickey’s eyes darted to you, drumming his hands on the steering wheel in time with the radio (and not at all nervously himself). 

You chuckled, quirking an eyebrow at your boyfriend’s a-little-too-curious tone.

“¿Estás celoso o algo así?” Are you jealous, or something? “Don’t worry, M, I don’t bring anyone around unless I think they’re worthwhile.”

You popped across the console on your elbows, enough to press a kiss to your boyfriend’s cheek, pleased at the blooming flush making its way across his finely-peaked, mole-dotted cheekbones. At his happy realization that you had brought him home to meet your family for nearly every Thanksgiving since you’d gotten together. 

That you had deemed him worthy.

And though Mickey had assured you that it would be a relatively quiet few days, a few meals and a gift exchange with his mom and his sisters, you couldn’t help but wonder – had Mickey deemed you worthy? Had the women in his life? 

So, yeah, you couldn’t help the little prickle of nerves that tingled their way through you as your playlist wound down, the dulcet tones of Sam Cooke’s “Any Day Now,” fading as Mickey turned into his driveway, his mother and sisters waiting to greet you with waving hands and identically-beaming faces. Their smiles were all-to familiar to you – a virtual carbon-copy of the one that regularly greeted you on the face of your beloved. 

And it was foolish to worry, really, you thought, as you were crushed with hugs and ushered inside by Mickey’s mother and his three shrieking, giggling sisters, all wearing variations of the same, slightly threadbare sweater (no doubt handmade and worn annually). Leaving Mickey to carry your bags and gifts into the home while his trio of sisters fawned over you,

“She looks gorgeous, no?” Said the eldest, Luci.

“I told you, she’s got that glow,” from Eiza, the youngest. 

And it was foolish to worry – when they had shoved a glass of ponche navideño in your hands and began filling you in on all the chisme as your boyfriend huffed his way up to his childhood bedroom, laden with bags. 

Hours later, you were packed into the hearth-warm kitchen, virtually up to your elbows in masa as you continued to knead, by hand, the sticky dough for enough tamales to feed an army under the approving (but ever-watchful eye) of your general – Mrs. Garcia. The way her lips had split into a smile when you’d refused the stand-mixer and opted to go manual was something you’d burn into your brain for eternity. 

Maybe approval wasn’t so far off. 

“Bien, mija,” she appraised, as Mickey sipped his punch from the corner he had been relegated to in the the kitchen, watching with honeymelt eyes as the women who shaped his past, his present, and – his eyes lingered over you – hopefully, his future, all worked in tandem to make homemade tamales. Gossipping away and giggling with each other as though you had been their friend for decades. 

“Ma,” Mickey piped up, “you’ve got her making all of this by hand? She’ll cramp up. She’ll have witch's hands by the time we leave. She’s an artist, you know, it’s how she makes her living. How many tamales do you need, anyway?” 

Mrs. Garcia whipped the dish towel that was draped over her shoulder at the back of her son’s head, effectively silencing him.

“Miguelito,” she hissed, “Tradicion. And your cousin Shawn says he’ll eat at least forty, and you know they’ll be here til New Year’s.” 

“Yeah? Well, cousin Shawn is full of shit.” 

Mickey’s sisters rolled their eyes at their brother’s antics, the middle sister, Olivia, bumping her hips against yours, her eyes full of playful mirth as she finished stirring the filling. 

And you could make out the living room through its swinging door to the kitchen, Vicente Fernández warbling away on the record player in the corner, as Eiza finished decorating their tree with a few of the ornaments that you and Mickey had brought – one, an orb with a photo of the two of you and Artoo on your couch at home, she displayed prominently at the center of the tree next to some that were clearly school projects from the kids’ elementary school years. 

It was nice, you thought – to be in a home that felt like a home for the holidays. To see these little pieces of your love’s life that had preceded you and that had shaped him. To let the magic of the season wash over your lives. 

After dinner, you helped Mickey’s sisters store the tamales for the long haul (and the arrival of the cousins) while Mickey did the dishes. 

Sliding on stockinged feet over the linoleum in their kitchen, you sheepishly produced a pink box tied in twine, with a tag that had a roughly-hewn, hand-drawn likeness of the Garcia household that you had seen in photographs, offering it to Mickey’s mother – a box stuffed full of pan dulce and Christmas cookies. 

“Mija, you made these?” She asked, hand hovering over the open flap, debating which to choose. “They all look so perfect.” 

“You should, like, have a baking insta,” Eiza agreed, words muffled by a mouth full of fluffy pink pan dulce. 

“They aren’t alla that,” you huffed, waving your hand as though to wave away the compliments.

“She’s modest,” Mickey assured, taking the box from your hands and setting it on the oaken kitchen table before lacing your fingers with his. “She loves to bake. She makes cookies for everyone in the squad for Christmas and birthdays.” 

“Really?” Mrs. Garcia appraised. “What did you make this year?” 

Rooster was positively gleeful at the sight of the red tin bedecked with snowflakes. 

“Are those what I think they are?” He bent down to kiss your cheek as you pressed the box into his hands. “Our Marigold’s famous Christmas gifts?” 

You had come down to the base to deliver the baked goods in person, on a day the squad had all agreed to meet for a holiday lunch. A cardboard box full of tins, each with their own personalized tag, awaited each of the Daggers. Javy had taken his – with its tag featuring a little drawing of a howling coyote – and absconded with it, thanking you through a sprinkling mouthful of crumbs and peppermint icing. 

Bradley’s, with its tag adorned with a strutting cartoon rooster with its tail feathers made of flames, was full of iced shortbread. Something he had confided to you that his mother had made on holidays past. You hoped he’d like them, not that the recipe you had found online could ever touch Carole Bradshaw's.

Mav had winked, thanking you for the classic chocolate chip, chuckling at the cartoonish aviator sunglasses on the tag.

Chocolate-chili cookies for Phoenix. Peanut butter for Jake. Cinnamon swirl for Bob. Lemon-lavender for Halo. Sweet mochi cookies for Reuben… and so on.

“If he doesn’t marry you, Marigold,” Rooster not-so-quietly announced, gesturing at Mickey with a cookie in his hand, “I will.” 

It was then that Mickey had swooped in, looping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek, waving Rooster away with a, 

“Yeah, yeah… she’ll definitely call you, buddy." Waving at the squad as he spun you and made to take your leave. "Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.” 

–

Mickey's childhood room was, like the rest of his family home, like the man himself, warm. Belying a coziness you cherished in all spaces, replete with a checkered quilt on the bed that you were certain his mother had made. Posters bedecked the walls, shining with the grins of baseball and soccer players whose names you'd recognized from the backs of jerseys hanging in Mickey's side of your shared closet. Star Trek DVD sets on the bookshelf, nestled next to Tom Clancy novels. Model planes, jets, and Lego sets were intact and displayed – proudly, you were sure –  on the desk. It was all so overwhelmingly Mickey, you were certain you were falling in love all over again, more pieces of himself falling into place in your heart. The nature of him, ensconced by his childhood, filling the gaps in your heart. 

"It's, ehhh," Mickey scrubbed the back of his neck, placing your bag at the foot of the bed on the side he knew you'd preferred af home. "A little geeky, I know. Ma insists on not changing it."

"She shouldn't," you clarified. "It's perfect. It's you."

Mickey beamed at that, coming to your side and surveying the room from your perspective before shrugging his shoulders.

"It's more perfect seeing you here. Honestly, a pretty girl in my room? My sisters never thought they'd see the day," he chuckled, sweeping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your shoulder before gazing up at you through his lashes. "And I gotta say, cielo, it's doing a number on me, you being in here."

You batted your lashes at your beloved before patting his cheek, 

“Easy tiger,” you breathed. “I’m not trying to disrespect your mother, or anything. We can wait til we're back home.” 

"Yeah, about that," Mickey said, extricating himself from you and readying himself for bed. "My mom is probably still laughing at you for offering to sleep on the couch. They know we've been together for a while, babe. It's fine."

"Still," you hissed, shimmying out of your jeans and into your joggers, sliding beneath the covers. "It's… awkward, no? To be in your boyfriend's house, them thinking we’re like … hooking up in here?" 

"If you feel that strongly about it," Mickey slid in beside you, leveling you with his best serious gaze, "you really should make more of an effort to keep your hands off me. Like, damn. Let a man sleep in peace."

You swatted his arm with the back of your hand, scoffing at him as he turned to turn out the bedside light. 

"You're unbelievable."

"Tell me something I don't know, baby."

And it had to be some kind of record, really. How quickly you’d gone back on your own word.

As soon as you and Mickey had turned the lights out, he had wrapped his arms around you, and pressed a goodnight kiss to your lips, you were a goner. The rustle of sheets met your ears through the blanket of darkness that had fallen in Mickey’s room, his fingertips meeting the skin of your waist where your t-shirt had ridden up, his lips meeting yours in kind – a clandestine, weighted feeling that you often felt yourself lost in. 

Mickey would often tell you that he felt a sort of gravitational pull near you – when you kissed him. That he was helpless to your gravitational pull, like the crashing tides. No choice but to worship you.

It was utter bullshit.

Utter nonsense. Because there was no way he could feel that way about you, when it was exactly how you felt about him, as he trailed his lips along the skin of your neck, feeling his way across your skin, through you, over you, the very heart of you. Rendering you slavish, devoted, insane. No choice but to heed to his beck and call, like the routine surrounding the permanence of a rising and setting sun. 

At the breaking little whine shattering its way through your throat, Mickey smiles against your skin, knowing he’s won. His mouth is warm, kisses like rich cocoa against your silken skin as he slips his way down your body, a trail of teasing touches and toying temptations – leading with lips and tongue.  

 He presses his way down your body, pleased at the heavy sigh that pours from your throat like water in the desert as he slides the soft fabric of your t-shirt up your torso, allowing his lips to chase the mapping progress of his fingers – a path he’s travelled many times, but never feels the same, and never renders the exact same reaction from you. 

“Fuck, cielo,” Mickey murmurs in reverence, his tongue swirling your nipple, the heat of his mouth and honey of his lips following. His hands slipping down your waist as he peppers kisses to the ridges of your ribs, the softness of your stomach. Shucking the quilt down to the foot of the bed as he makes his way between your now-parted legs. 

His palms skated the skin of your thighs, your calves, your ankles, mumbling muffled endearments against your skin as his lips traversed to your hips, inching closer, closer, closer to your center. Your chest heaved with ragged breaths, with honeyed sighs, lashes fluttering and fingers lacing through Mickey’s curls as you acquiesced, always, to the pull of him, the swelling ocean tide sure to wash you away into the depths of him.

“You should feel how warm you are, amor,” Mickey’s lips were wistful and wanton, cruel yet comforting, as he pressed  open-mouthed kisses heating the insides of your thighs. A perpetual tease, as tongue followed. “I bet you’re sweet, too.”

Mickey’s eyes met yours as he glanced up at you from between your thighs, glimmering with the dance of mischief and amorous intent. Pleased at the hitch of your breath evident in your chest, the fluttering of your lashes, the part of your lips.

God, you were well on your way to looking as wrecked as he felt. 

Mickey smiled then, a splitting peal of glimmering happiness, before he endeavoured to shatter you – cheeky as he inclined his head to lick a firm stripe along the seam of you, through the dampened cotton of your underwear.

You yelped at the feeling, slapping your hand over your mouth to muffle the too-loud noise that had shattered the relative silence of the room (save for your collectively heavy breaths), eyes wide at the sound that had spilled from you.

You tugged Mickey’s curls, beckoning him up as you hurried to close your legs – the moment shattering as you realized that once again, you had lost sense of yourself. And under his mother’s roof, no less.

“M!” you hissed, shuffling to readjust your clothing as you gently swatted at his pec, the small thwacking sound vindicating to your own traitorous ears as you attempted to recover from the embarrassment flooding through your body, heating your chest and cheeks. “Y-you … I can’t believe you. Zorro. Baboso.” 

“H-hey,” Mickey was cupping his own pec where you had swatted at it, eyeing your fluster and bluster with barely-concealed mirth. “You wound me, baby. I was just trying to kiss you goodnight. I just wanted you to know I love you.” 

“Sneaky little good-for-nothing,” you hissed, no malice in your voice as it spilled from lips that were trying, against your better senses, to tug into a smile. Shaking your head. “What would Ken Griffey Jr. think?” You tugged your shirt down, beckoning with pointed finger to the larger-than-life splashed likeness on the poster of the hall of fame ballplayer, staring down at the both of you, frozen smile ever-affixed. Not judgmental, but not-not judgmental. 

“He’d high-five me for a home run?” Mickey shrugged.

“You’re shameless, you know?” You readjusted yourself under the covers, making a show of pulling them up to your chin, obscuring your body from his view.

“Well, what do you suggest we do instead,” Mickey queried.

“Um, sleep?” 

“Baby,” Mickey’s voice was low, lilting – a slip of a tease in the wintery-darkness of his room. “I don’t, uhhh, think I can go to sleep right now.” 

You arched an eyebrow at him, “I want to go on record as saying that this is a self-created problem, but because I love you …” you sat up, allowing the covers to fall to your waist, bending forward and cupping Mickey’s jaw, urging him to you to press a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“Lie on your stomach,” you eased. “Let’s play the word game.” 

The word game. Something you had invented with your siblings when you were little. When you were too hyper to sleep, filled with the sugar from Christmas cookies and hot cocoa, waiting for Santa Claus, urging the morning to come … you’d come up with the game to pass the time. A game you had passed on to friends at sleepovers, graduating to giggling wine-drunk iterations in college. And now to your beloved. 

One of you would lie on your stomach, while the person that was “it” would pick a word or phrase, drawing each letter on the expanse of the other’s back. If the guesser chose the letter correctly, you would move on to the next letter, until they’ve spelled the word and identified it. Then you would switch 

Now, with the twinkling of stars outside of Mickey’s window and the luminescent glow of the moon to light your way, you rubbed your palms along the smooth skin of his muscled back, perusing your mental catalog for your word. Mickey groaned beneath you, pleased at the feeling of your hands working their way along his skin, his contended exhalations leaving his lips like a purr. 

“Ah,” you began, “I’ve got one. Okay.” 

You traced an “R,” the curving bow of the letter causing a shiver to wrack through Mickey at the featherlight touch of your fingertip, the gentle scrape of your nail.

“Cielo, this is supposed to relax me, not turn me on,” he turned his head to the side, allowing it to rest on his arms so he could glare, balefully, at you through cocoa-swirled eyes. 

“I can’t be breaking the rules if everything I do turns you on. Control yourself,” you replied primly, easing the sting of your jest with a sweet kiss pressed to his tanned shoulder. “I’ll draw again.” 

“It’s an ‘R,’” he supplied, huffing. “Stupid, sexy ‘R.’” 

You beamed, nodding so that he could see, before drawing the next. E. 

As Mickey guessed each letter, you proceeded. Giggling at some of his mistakes, signaling wrong answers with a wiping, swirling motion along his spine, not unlike the sweeping shake of your head, until – 

“Regalo,” Mickey guessed. Present. 

“Bien,” you smiled. Rewarding your beloved with a sweet kiss to his lips, breezy and sweet like honeysuckle in spring. 

“And what present did you get me, my love?” 

“You’ll have to wait to find out,” you eased down next to him, cuddling into his side. “Or maybe my presence is the present. Either way, you’ll have to be good, or you get nothing.” 

“Always,” Mickey murmured, the facile lovingness of your touch, the game, having lulled him some, easing into the routine of relaxing by your side.

Whether he was referring to you always being a gift, or that he was always good, you weren’t sure. And you didn’t ask, his evening-breathing suggesting that he was well on his way to drifting off – one step closer to dancing dreams of swirling ardor. 

–

As you sat around in the morning with Mickey’s sisters in their matching sweaters, waiting to exchange gifts, they eyed you with something like mischief. A look you were all too used to seeing in their brother’s eyes. 

Mickey was in the kitchen, chipperly helping his mother plate the pan dulce you had baked and pouring coffee. The sunshiney nature of early-birdedness seemed to be a Garcia family trait, you thought, as Mickey’s mother greeted you with a million-watt smile and a kiss to your cheek before ushering you to be comfortable by the tree. 

“I heard the strangest thing last night,” Luci began, her lips curling into a grin. “Did you hear it, Oli?” She looked to the middle sister.

“Oh, yeah,” Olivia continued, knowingly. “Some noise coming from down the hall, like a strangled little cat. Very strange.”

“We don’t have a cat,” Eiza piped up, helpfully-unhelpful. 

And if your face didn’t bely your embarrassment at Mickey’s sisters clearly having heard your little yelp from down the hall, you were sure that the heat rushing through your body might melt you, like a shameful wave of lava, bent on your destruction. 

“Ehm,” you began, plucking intently at the very apparent little loose thread at the hem of your joggers… 

“We’re teasing you,” Luci appeased. “Don’t worry. Quite honestly, the fact that you’d choose to be with that little nerd is astounding –” 

“You’re too cool for him,” Eiza finished from her end of the couch. 

“He’s, uhm,” you smiled weakly at each of his sisters, still recovering from the mortifying ordeal of having been put on the spot. “He’s pretty great.” 

“Yeah,” Olivia rolled her eyes. “If you think Star Trek Christmas sweaters and talking about jets and G’s is cool.” 

You shrugged. “I do.” 

Mrs. Garcia and Mickey entered, then, distributing the steaming cups of coffee and reheated sweet breads. Your beloved pressing his lips to your temple as he pressed the warm mug into your hands.

“Buenas días, mija,” Mrs. Garcia greeted you, easing next to you on the couch. 

“Good morning, señora.” 

She knocked her shoulder gently into yours, smiling between you and Mickey, as he began to distribute gifts.

“Oh, M, give out mine first, please?” You urged, the little prickle of nerves from yesterday tickling at your throat (or maybe that was just the warm swallow of bitterly-strong coffee, just the way you liked it) as you were eagerly-anxious to see if his family liked your gifts.

Mickey nodded, passing soft wrapped packages to each sister – their names calligraphed on each tag in elegant, looping letters. Urging each sister to tear into the paper, an extra smile for Eiza as he passed her a firmer, square box. 

Luci cooed over the hand-knitted scarf and hoop earrings, assuring you they were just the pair she wanted.

Olivia had beamed at the hand-painted mug, admiring the white oleander blooms you had painted. Thanking you for the book of poems. 

Eiza shrieked at the pink gamer headset as she unwrapped it, looking up at you with awestruck, eager eyes. 

“Now you can join M, Reuben and me on our Call of Duty nights,” you smiled. “You’ll need some face masks, though. We multitask our self-care.” You nodded at the box, urging her to check as she pulled out a pack of Korean sheet masks (the same that you had separately gifted Reuben). She swept you in a hug, promising to set up a time to play with you. 

Mickey passed his mother a large, flat package, urging her to tear into the paper.

She ripped away the shining green, revealing a canvas with a watercolored likeness of your beachside home. The cerulean of the swirling ocean and the grapefruit-pink of the sunset stippled into in the background. 

“She painted it, mama,” Mickey gestured to you, eyes swimming as he took in the pleased smile on his mother’s face.

“I just wanted you to have something, a piece of our home in yours, until you can come visit us,” you eased. “I hope you like it.”

Mrs. Garcia nodded, reaching to clasp your hand in hers. “It’s beautiful, my darling girl.” 

Mickey’s sisters had gifted you with a stocking full of puppy goodies for Artoo. A set of bath bombs and a new sketchpad for you. Gifting Mickey with some games he had his eye on.

Senora eased her way up from the couch, pulling a small wooden box from beneath the tree and handing it to you. 

You admired the hewn wood, popping the lid on the box to find a handful of recipe cards in what you recognized form letters and cards to be Mrs. Garcia’s handwriting.

“Just a few recipes for you – so the two of you can have them for your home. And start some of your own traditions.”

You thanked her, with teary eyes and a warm hug, all vestiges of worry set aside as you enmeshed yourself into the warm welcome of the Garcia home.

"You make him better, no?" Mrs. Garcia was sitting with you as Mickey packed up the car, his sisters twittering around him about taking leftovers (seriously, Shawn did not need that many tamales) and promising to FaceTime them after you and Mickey opened the rest of your gifts. The snippets of their conversations meeting your ears as you visited with his mother.

“-- I swear, Miguelito, you better marry her,” Luci’s voice caused your heart to lurch a little. 

You turned your attention back to Mrs. Garcia,

"He makes me my best."

–

Artoo was overjoyed at your reunion. He leapt at your feet before you’d even had the chance to exit the car, his tail moving a mile a minute as he bowled over Mickey, licking at his face and his ears.

The two of you had settled into a lazy morning together, Artoo contentedly tearing into the stocking of gifts from Mickey’s sisters from his perch on the couch as you gifted Mickey with a plate of cheesy scrambled eggs – a Christmas morning breakfast tradition in your home.

“I like the shirt,” you acknowledged, beaming at the Mickey Mouse shirt that had been your birthday gift to him the prior year – a tradition of his own making, to wear the shirts you’d gifted him on Christmas. Each year a surprise as to which one he’d pick. 

This year’s – a grinning Mickey hugging Pluto – a splash of color adorning Mickey’s torso. A welcome sight painting the picture of your holiday backdrop while you made chili-spiced hot cocoa as your father had taught you, the sweet tickle playing on your lips as you grinned at your boyfriend.

And it was a cosmic, karmic collision – something in the stars, you think. Watching him play with Artoo, watching him eat his breakfast, watching him pluck packages from beneath the tree, ready to give to you. And maybe it was the magic of the holidays – that tinges everything in evergreen romance, warm and sweet and cinnamon. But you think, perhaps, that it will always feel this way with Mickey – as though he was the sunshine in your wintery sky, iridescent and luminous.

“Here,” you passed a package to your beloved, waiting with bated breath and eager eyes as he set his cocoa cup aside and ripped into the paper, marveling at the bound graphic novel in his hands – 

A full, illustrated edition of “The Adventures of Fanboy and Payback,” their space-exploration adventures that you had invented and drawn now captured fully, rather than in the piecemeal etchings you would stick into care packages when Mickey was away.

“Baby,” Mickey breathed, “you did all of this?”

“Well,” you worried your lower lip between your teeth. “The binding isn’t the best, but I tried. Do you like it?”

“Ah-mor,” he swept you off the couch and into his arms, his lips meeting yours, full and flush. “You literally made me a sci-fi hero. This is the best ever.” 

“I’m so glad,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his tapered waist and squeezing. “You’re definitely my hero, M. Callsign: Romeo.” 

Mickey chuckled, disentangling himself from you and pressing another kiss to your lips. Assuring you he loved it as he gently set aside the book as though it were made of glass, turning to pick up your gift.

Mickey gazed at you expectantly as you held the small, unexpectedly dense box in your palm, searching his face for any hint as to what could be in the box,

“Don’t –” Mickey started, trailing off as you gently shook the box, “shake it… Fine.” 

You smirked, peeling the paper off the box and peering into it, met with the fiery hue of —

“An orange?” You query, lifting the small fruit from the box, its stippled rind leaving the pleasing, citrusy smell on your fingertips as you examined it. The blazing blue sticker on the side of the rind boasting the phrase, “Sweet Valencia.”

“Por supuesto, cielo.” Of course. 

“Well, you know I love oranges,” you smiled at him. “Thank you, my love.”

“Cieloooo,” he snickered. “If we were to share it. To peel it in half, what do you have?” He pressed you.

You gazed at him, glancing between the orange in your hand and your beloved’s shimmering eyes, dark and luminescent as the night sky.

“A half of an orange. Is this a riddle? What am I missing?” 

“Si, cielo, my brilliant, beautiful girl.” Mickey kneeled before you know, cradling your hand that held the orange in his palms. “An orange half. Mi media naranja.”

Your breath caught in your throat. 

And it was one of your favorite things about the Spanish language, your favorite endearment.  Embodied by the gift your boyfriend was handing to you now, the fiery-hued orb in your palms, perfect. The sweet smell of citrus tickling your nose. 

Mi media naranja. His soulmate. Literally translated, mi media naranja – “my orange half,” in reference to you.

Mickey dropped your hand, turning to pick up the box you had gently set aside, plucking something from the bottom of the box before picking up one of your hands. 

The coolness of metal slid along the ring finger of your right hand.

You tore your gaze down in time to see the coppery rosiness of a simple rose-gold band against the skin of your hand.

“I’m going to marry you one day, mi naranjita,” Mickey assured, looking between the ring on your hand and your starshine eyes. “Until then, consider this my promise to you.” 

With your artist's eyes, you can appreciate the watercolor brushstrokes of the moment, the way in which you saw the world, textured and swirling. Rosy and perpetually-perfect as your lips met Mickey’s, tugging him toward you with a finger crooked in his silly shirt.

“You’re perfect, M,” you murmured into his mouth. “Impetuous … but perfect.” 

You dragged Mickey down the hall, toward your bedroom, your lips fused to his as you made to peel the cartoonish shirt from his torso as you went, reveling in the firm feel of him beneath your fingertips. 

When had the script flipped? You were beneath Mickey now, him rolling his hips into you, the sweet, heavy drag of him inside of you sinfully sweet as you tipped your head back to watch your beloved watching you. The tight heat of you squeezing around him, causing him to roll his eyes back, bucking his hips into you harder. 

“Baby,” Mickey groaned, “you're so pretty it hurts.” He dragged his teeth over the column of your throat, soothing the stinging scrape of teeth with a pretty little brushstroke of his lips over the canvas of your neck. "I'll give it all to you – give you more, more, more …" he murmured into your skin as his thrusts became sloppy.

And watching you come apart, to shatter in his embrace, was the gift you kept on giving. One he’d never tire of as he spilled inside of you as you urged him to, “Please, baby, come inside me,” urging, urging. “I want it.”

He never stood a chance.

You draw your finger repeatedly along the curve of his nose, pressing kisses into his neck and begging him not to move from inside of you as Mickey rests his head on your shoulder, puffing exhalations evening into the deep, easy breathing of the satisfied. 

And as you glanced down at the rose gold band on your hand – the simple little gift that held so much weight, you drifted to the afternoon you had spent with Mickey before leaving his mother’s home. The tour he’d given you around town, narrating the lives of the ghosts of his hometown as you drove past the movie theater where he’d had his first date; the park where he and some friends had gotten drunk as teens. Stopping to climb to the roof of the school building, to watch the late-afternoon wintery sunset. 

"I wish you knew what it feels like," you sighed, carding your fingers through Mickey's curls, his head in your lap as the two of you watched the blaze of orange sunset turn purple like tufted cotton candy.

"What what feels like?" He asked tilting his chin to allow his eyes to prove your form, appreciating the fiery hues of the sky splashed against your skin.

"To love you," you glanced down, meeting your beloved's eyes with a smile.

Mickey's million-watt grin beamed back in response.

And perhaps that's the reason for the setting sun, you thought. It has no choice but to retreat in the face of something so radiant as your beloved's smile, a second fiddle at its own game.

"Oh, I have a pretty good idea, cielito" Mickey sat up, warm hands coming to cradle either side of your face, to appreciate the curve of your jaw as you smile at him -- little reminders how every part of you, delights in every part of him.

At your arching eyebrow, he continued, "After all, I know what it feels like to love you."

His lips met yours, the feel of his kiss like night-blooming jasmine, like petals against your wistful mouth -- eternal against the evening dusk of his hometown's little skyline.

Perhaps traveling for the holidays wasn't so bad.

--

some tags for my usual suspects: @joaquinwhorres @withahappyrefrain  @clints-lucky-arrow @inklore @phoenixhalliwell @ohmagawd-life @levylovegood @thatredheadwriter @zombieaurora @shadeds-library @writercole @ijustwantedplums @justalonelyslytherin @gretagerwigsmuse @fanboysfangirl @siriusfahey @the-navistar-carol @jadore-andor @fanboygarcia @lavenderluna10 @thedaredevilsgirl @fluffyprettykitty @mickeyluvs @mothdruid   @maxmayfield @eagerforthesky @callmemantha @mxgyver  @andrewrussgarfield @bioodforbiood @the-purity-pen @luxuryberzatto @liz-allyn  @moonlight-prose @thegirlwhowritesfics @phoebe-danvers ​@jadore-andor  @marvelousmermaid @spidervee ​@t-nd-rfoot​

[angrythingstarlight]

Welcome to my Chris Evans Masterlist. 

As always, this is an 18+ blog, by continuing to read you agree that you are 18+. Remember you are responsible for your own media consumption. All fics are with a female reader. 

That being said, I hope you enjoy my stories. 

 Main Masterlist. Starlight Fics for new story notifications.  Taglist. 

Vacation Mornings:

Just a minute

Be Honest

You spend the first day of vacation wrapped up with Chris.

Take It All Off: 

Chris doesn’t want you in another teams jersey. He doesn’t want you wearing anything at all. (smut)

Nimble Fingers (Fav)

Chris proves that all his fingering is accurate.

Milo and Dodger

Chris is bad at hiding suprises or so you thought.

Anything she says

Chris is head over heels in love with you.

Distract Me With Your Lips 

Chris hates corporate parties, so you come up with a little game to distract him. Of course, he’s a cheater (smut)

Get Comfy (Personal Fav)

Chris wants you to get comfy on his lap (Smut)

Mornings With Chris  (Personal Fav)

You discover Chris’s secret ritual with those trees and have a little fun (fluff)

Dog Park:

When you meet Chris in the dog park and your nieces decide he’s the one for you (Pure Fluff)

The Date:

A continuation of Dog Park, a perfect first date set up by your nieces. (Pure Fluff)

The proposal

Continuation of Dog Park and The Date

Practice:

You were so worried about your upcoming surgery, you completely forgot about how you were going to do your hair, don't worry Chris has a plan  (Pure Fluff)

Dodger:

Who knew Dodger was a snitch? (Pure Fluff)

Poor Dodger

Reason #544 why Chris should just listen you. Based on that awful haircut he gave our favorite dog. (Pure Fluff)

Bananas for You

There’s a reason he didn’t want you to see that movie. Based on the an interview about Not Another Teen Movie.  (Pure Fluff)

Happy Thanksgiving

Family dinner has never been more awkward, aka don’t let Chris talk you into christening his childhood bedroom (Smut)

Bikini Bottoms

Pool time fun (for Chris anyway!) aka don't let Chris talk you into undressing in a public pool  (Smut)

Crash My Party Series (Chris Evans, Henry Cavill WIP)

You are an upcoming actress dealing with a very public breakup, now you have to work with him. Its going to be hard, but you may have found some unexpected help.

Crash My Party (Series on Hiatus)

Your fiance cheated on you and now you have to work with him. Good thing you have your best friend Chris and your new friend Henry. Right?

Crash My Part: Part 2

The table of read of a lifetime and stop letting Chris tell you where to go

[sequinsmile-x]

MULTI CHAPTER FICS

A list of standalone multi-chapter fics that do not form part of a series. Please check here for series you might be looking for

300 - Emily, Aaron and their love as observed by their friends. AKA - the five times the team see them love each other, and the one time they don't even try to hide it. My 300th Hotchniss fic.

400 - She has to remind herself to breathe. Everything that usually comes naturally, that she does without thought, feels hard. Impossible. As if her body was slowly shutting down, as if the reality of what was happening was slowly catching up with her. My 400th Hotchniss fic

Alacrity - Two Mother's Days in the life of the Hotchner family.

Allegiance - It was nice to finally have someone who was on her side, someone who would always put her first. A Young Hotchniss story with a twist.

Backfire - Three Thanksgivings in the lives of the Hotchner family

Burn Forever - She looks at herself in the mirror for a moment before she turns around, entirely overwhelmed by how her day had started in comparison to how it had ended. How she’d gone from waking up next to a man who she’d fallen out of love with several months ago to standing in the bathroom of the man she’d loved for years. It's been months since they've spoken, but when Emily calls him, Aaron answers, and they spend December together as she picks up the pieces of her life. A Young Hotchniss AU

Buy the Promises - It gets harder to keep the promise as time goes on, as Emily goes from his girlfriend to his fiancée to his wife. He wants nothing more than to put Elizabeth in her place, to stop her from hurting her daughter in a way that only she could. AKA The three times Aaron doesn't tell Elizabeth off, and the one time he does.

Consequences - One case, three different outcomes. An exploration of how even the smallest decision can make a big difference (Major Character Death)

Eros - Emily wasn’t surprised that she’d started to sleep with one of her professors, but she was surprised that she’d fallen in love with him. A Hotchniss AU. (Smut, explicit)

Expeditious - This wasn't how Emily had seen her quiet, low-key, wedding day going.

Even Statues Crumble if They’re Made to Wait - She can't stop thinking about the fact she isn't even meant to be here. That she's still supposed to be at home on maternity leave instead of sitting in a church in Colorado wondering if she'd ever see her husband or her little girl again. A Minimal Loss AU with a Young Hotchniss twist.

Evermore - Volume II of my unrelated tumblr prompts and mini fics

Fire & Ice - The case was over, the danger was gone and they could go home and finally celebrate Christmas. The case was over, so she'd let her defences down, not knowing that the worst was to come.

Folklore - Volume I of my unrelated tumblr prompts and mini fics

Fourth - Emily and Aaron get through the newborn stage, also known as the 'fourth trimester', together.

From the Heart - They had been on the brink of something, something they both thought could have been extraordinary, before the skeletons came out of her closet and tore it all apart. (Work in Progress)  (On Hiatus) 

Golden - The Hotchner family go on vacation.

Growing Pains - Having teenagers, as it turned out, was the most trying part of parenthood so far, and there were times when she almost considered apologising to her mother. Almost.

Hide Beside Me - Emily shares her oldest secret with Aaron. A few years later, that secret resurfaces.

Hiraeth - Straight back off of their honeymoon, Aaron and Emily return to a case that could change things forever

I Know the End - She wishes they’d met earlier, that they’d had more time. Meeting him here, at the end, was cruel even by the universes standards.

In This Epoch, in This Age - She doesn’t know how to tell him about the pile of letters she’d written him. How some of them were on paper, and others were on receipts from cafes or a napkin she was given on her flight back to the USA. A stack of random thoughts and declarations she’d brought back with her for no other reason than leaving them behind felt wrong. AKA Five times Emily writes a letter to Aaron, and one time she actually gives them to him.

Instincts - Five times Emily doesn't yell at her mother-in-law, and one time she does.

Invasion - She hears footsteps, the clear sound of someone trying, and failing, to be quiet. There was someone downstairs. Emily is home on maternity leave, and Aaron is away on a case, when someone breaks into their house.

Just Like a Folk Song - Emily and Aaron have been friends since they were children, what will happen when Emily realises she can no longer keep her feelings for him to herself? A Young Hotchniss AU (Smut)

Lost at Sea - They’d laughed through tears of joy in their bathroom as they looked at a positive pregnancy test, the thought that it was too good to be true because it had happened so quickly lingering in the air. Turns out, it had been too good to be true. (Warning: themes of miscarriage)

Love You in the Dark - This is all they would ever have, stolen hours in the dark when she was working and he was supposed to be. Somehow she could convince herself that it was enough.A Hotchniss AU fic, set in the 1960s. (Sensitive themes throughout - domestic violence, cheating, emotional affair)

Maximum Gain - A Minimal Loss AU.

Midas Touch - A collection of unrelated one-shots and mini-fics

Oizys - Sometimes, she went months without thinking of those weeks in the wilderness. The memories hazy, as if she could pretend they happened to someone else. Other times it was clear, the memories razor sharp as they cut at her lungs, making it difficult to breathe.

One Last Souvenir From My Trip to Your Shores - A thoughtless and unkind comment from someone she's always considered a friend makes Emily feel like she's right back at the start.

Our Great Divide - It's what they'd hoped would happen for years. For close to a decade it's what they would talk about late at night whilst snuggled up in bed together, quiet voices whispering about a life where Jack and Haley came back, where Jack could meet his siblings and their family would finally feel complete. Now it was finally happening, Emily had a pit in her stomach. A heavy weight made of fear and guilt as she worried that this could actually be the thing that tore them apart. A Foyet Arc AU

Riptide - A love story told from two perspectives. One after it is has ended, and the other just as it begins. (Major Character Death)

Ruins - Haley initially survives Foyet's attack, but it still wasn't enough. All Emily can do it help Aaron through it.

Safe Haven - Foyet escapes after killing Haley and Aaron has no choice but to go into witness protection with his son, but they aren't the only ones in danger. Emily Aaron and Jack go into WitSec, and their lives are forever changed.

Secrets - They keep each other a secret and it suits them both. In which Emily doesn't leave Interpol after her time with Ian Doyle, and her and Aaron cross paths years later.

Steadfast - Life wasn't always easy, but at least they had each other.

Summit - He hates that he feels like a kid. Like the little boy who was let down by his parents again and again. His father’s violence and his mother’s apathy, her overcorrection to dealing with the life she’d found herself living, the building blocks for the fortress he’d built around himself. Aaron's mom comes to see him after years of silence and no contact.

Surrender - She opens her mouth to say it’s her, but Aaron beats her to it. The words out of his mouth before she can say them, as if he'd stolen them from her lungs, just as he had with her breath in the hotel before they came here. Making her laugh so hard she’d almost forced her wine out of her nose. A moment that felt so long ago now she could barely hang onto it.

Sweet Nothing - A series of one shots mini fics of our favourite idiots in love to celebrate my birthday, along with all the other July birthdays in the fandom <3

The Albatross - The dizziness she’d been trying to ignore suddenly takes over, her vision turning into a pinpoint before disappearing entirely. She falls, narrowly missing hitting her head on the corner of her desk, and she slips out of consciousness.Her last thought is of her family, their happy faces staring down at her from the picture on her desk. A reimagining of Route 66, in which Emily experiences complications from an old injury.

The Book of Love - Aaron and Emily's love story, told from the perspective of those around them (and, of course, their own.)

The Games We Play - She’d survived the very worst a person could, lived through things that still kept her up at night, the screams of other innocent people ringing in her head as sleep evaded her. She’d survived so much, but she didn’t think she’d survive leading him to his death. A Hunger Games AU

To Have and to Hold - She wanted him. This. She didn't need anything else.

The Fall - It sneaks up on him. Quiet and unassuming until it catches up with him, tapping him on the shoulder just before he’s pulled under by it. For her it's fast. Every moment she's overlooked, wilfully ignorant of them or not, hit her all at once, knocking all the breath from her lungs. An exploration into how Aaron and Emily fall in love with each other.

The Last to Know - In which Emily and Aaron are the last to know about big changes in their relationship.

The View Between Villages - A feeling he hasn't had in years, since this place was nothing but a dot in his rearview mirror, settles low in his gut, slowly getting heavier the closer they get. A weight he'd forgotten, all of the people and places he once knew rising from the dead and chasing him down a street he used to call home. Sometimes, you have no choice but to go back.

This is Our Place, We Make the Rules - A collection of mini-fics and one-shots of Hotchniss being domestic idiots in love.

Waiting Room - Everything had changed so quickly, her life torn out from under her in a matter of seconds, the trajectory of what it would look like going forward permanently altered.  Emily's life changes forever when her parents are killed. Aaron just needs a job after his marriage breaks down and he answers an ad for a private security guard. If only the young woman he'd been hired to look after wasn't entirely resistant to his presence. A Young Hotchniss AU (Smut)

Where You Go - She isn’t sure what does it, whether it’s the condescending tone in her mother’s voice, or how she can hear her aunt laughing in the background, but she’s lying before she can stop herself. “Actually, I am seeing someone." AKA - the one where Emily asks Aaron, her best friend (who she happens to be hopelessly in love with) to pose as her boyfriend at her cousin's wedding, and things change between them forever.

[anna-kendrick]

holding my breath ('til i can say all of the words i wanna say)

Beca goes home with Chloe for thanksgiving.

For @beca-mitchell​

Read on AO3, or below.

Chloe regrets asking the moment it comes out of her mouth.

“Come home with me.”

It's not that she doesn't want to bring Beca—her wonderful and loving girlfriend of over a year—home to visit her family, it's more the fact of how do you tell your wonderful and loving girlfriend of over a year that you didn't actually tell your parents that you two were dating because they're homophobic.

Yeah, she has a slight problem.

Chloe wasn't even sure if Beca would even say yes to begin with. It's her third year at Barden, and her third thanksgiving that she'd be spending on campus. Rather than taking a trip back to Seattle to visit her mother, Beca had explained that she prefers her alone time in the comfort of her room, away from all the reminders of her rocky childhood. Chloe gets it.

But more selfishly than not wanting to leave her girlfriend back in Atlanta alone—aka with most of the Bellas and very much not alone—Chloe didn't want to spend a week away from Beca. That's what brings them to this very moment.

Beca’s clearly taken aback by the question, and Chloe finds the slight blush that's creeping across her cheeks absolutely adorable.

“You're serious?” This is her out, Chloe thinks. Make it sound less appealing, tell her the truth, or just completely take back the offer and—

“Totes serious.” Well fuck.

The smug grin that grows on Beca’s face is enough to vanish all her worries for the moment. Chloe’s quick to reflect one back as Beca pulls her in for a kiss, a version of a ‘yes’ in her own, sweet language.

When Beca mumbles an “I love you,” against her lips, Chloe feels her knees go weak.

***

She doesn't bring it up.

It's sitting in the back of her mind at all times in the weeks following, but she doesn't bring it up.

Beca's seemingly excited to go on this trip to Portland. She says she's never been, and Chloe finds herself looking forward to showing her all of the places where she grew up. She ignores it when Beca tells her that she's excited to see her parents again, and jokingly teases her that she thinks they like her better.

Beca really has no idea.

It's on their final descent when Chloe realizes her mistake. She feels Beca’s hand squeeze in her own, looking over to see her wearing a soft smile—one of comfort and warmth—as if Beca could read her mind. She wishes it were true, it would make things so much easier.

But Beca simply mouths ‘you’re okay,’ and attributes Chloe’s nervous energy to flight anxiety. That’s truly the least of her worries right now, honestly the plane crashing to the ground seems like it could be a better scenario to what she’s going to have to do. Easier, and chances are less painful, too.

Beca squeezes her hand again, waiting for Chloe to squeeze back—their own little form of communication, a way for Chloe to say ‘I’m okay,’ without saying it aloud. Chloe shakes herself from her morbid thoughts, and kisses Beca’s cheek instead, before nuzzling herself into Beca’s shoulder. She feels herself relax slightly as Beca drops her head onto hers, and lets out a quiet hum.

She knows she's messed up. She goes over all the possible outcomes in her head as she watches other passengers deboard the plane. It's the one where she breaks Beca’s trust, and her heart that sticks out the most to her.

Beca never lets go of her hand as they walk off the plane. Chloe can hear her speaking, probably talking about all the new music ideas she thought of on their long flight over, but she can't make out any of the words—she's too lost in her own mind.

“Chlo?” She’s snapped out of her non stop reel of scenarios when Beca stops in place, tilting her head in concern. Beca knows her so well, it makes her want to cry. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.” She lies, and offers a smile. It seems to satisfy Beca, who grins back and squeezes her hand again gently before going to resume their trail to the baggage claim.

This is it. She has to do it.

“Bec, wait—” Her voice catches in her throat when Beca looks back, eyes full of questions and concern—so patient and so loving. She thinks she might throw up.

She lets go of Beca’s hand.

“They don't know you’re my girlfriend. Please don't tell them, I’m sorry.” Chloe takes a deep breath, fighting back her tears, because God forbid she cries in the middle of this damn airport.

One glance at Beca’s face and her heart feels like it's being crushed inside her chest. She can't say anything else, she can't even look at her.

“Um— Our bags, lets go get our bags.”

***

They meet Chloe’s parents outside of the airport about a half hour later, the silence that had been deafening between her and Beca finally breaking.

Alice greets Beca with a smile and a tight hug. “We’re so happy Chloe was able to talk you into coming home with her.”

“She didn’t have to say much, I’m glad to be here. Thanks for letting me stay with you guys.” Beca says it so sincerely, it only makes Chloe feel worse.

“Please, Beca, you know you’re a part of the family. You can visit anytime, even without this one here.” Dale points to Chloe, giving Beca a wink and one of his signature Beale smiles. Beca giggles and looks over to her Chloe with a soft smile.

Chloe turns to look out the window instead.

The drive to the Beale family home is longer than Chloe remembers—louder too, as her dad sings along obnoxiously to the songs on the radio, and her thoughts continue to echo inside of her head. Beca’s more silent than usual though, and Chloe takes the risk of glancing over to check on her.

Beca’s the one peering out the window now, headphones plugged in as she listens to her own music. It almost makes Chloe smile, just seeing Beca next to her, as they drive through her hometown. The feeling is fleeting however, as Chloe takes note of Beca chewing the skin on her thumb—a nervous habit most likely brought on by all of the shit Chloe sprung on her at the airport. She wants nothing more than to reach over and pull her hand away, entangle their fingers together and squeeze Beca’s hand tightly.

She meets her mothers gaze in the mirror, and immediately realizes how bad of an idea this was.

***

It’s later that night—after Chloe had spent ten minutes convincing, more like begging, her mother to let Beca sleep in her room upstairs and not in the basement

(“It’s freezing down there. I’ll just make a bed for myself on the floor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Chloe.”)

—that Beca finally broaches the subject.

“Chloe?” She hears Beca whisper through the dark. She lays silently, debating whether or not she should answer, or pretend to be asleep and hope that Beca lets it go��she already knows what she's about to ask.

“Baby, I know you're awake.” She could insist that she is asleep—continue to hold her breath and fight back the tears that are already pricking from behind her eyelids—but she knows that Beca knows her better than anyone else, knows that Beca’s worried about her from the way that her hand now softly brushes through her hair.

“Chlo—”

“Yeah, I'm awake.” Chloe whispers, rolling around to face her girlfriend. She feels the guilt swirl in her stomach immediately with just one look at the sad eyes in front of her.

She knew it was coming, but when Beca mumbles “Why didn't you tell them? I—I don't mean to pry, I’m sorry, I just—Are you okay?” tears immediately spill from her eyes, and she has to choke back the sob that threatens to come out.

It makes her heart clench to think about how far her and Beca have come since that day at the activities fair. It had taken so long to get Beca to open up to her, to even just accept a hug from her. It makes her sick to think about how disappointed her parents would be if they walked in on the two of them at this moment—their daughter wrapped up in her girlfriends arms as Beca continues to rub her back soothingly.

She feels so fucking guilty. A disappointment to both her family, and towards the woman she loves. She hates herself for it.

Beca's hands feel so soft against her cheeks as she holds them and lightly brushes her tears away. It's dark in the room, but she can still clearly make out Beca’s features in the moonlight that spills in from the window. Beca looks beautiful, she looks sad, but she’s so beautiful.

“I didn't know how to tell you.” Her voice sounds unrecognizable to her own ears, it's raspy with tears, and she can hear the lie within her own speech. It's not that she didn't know how to, it's that she didn't want to.

How was she supposed to tell her best friend—her girlfriend—that her parents would hate her? How was she supposed to explain that yes, they had met her before and treated her like a second daughter, but as soon as they found out Beca was more than just a friend, they'd look at her with pure disgust and detest? How was she supposed to bring that up in a conversation where Beca’s telling her that her father has been putting more effort in, that he's happy for the two of them and that he’d like to have both over for dinner one night?

She's never wanted Beca to feel as if she was a secret, that their blooming relationship was something that Chloe was ashamed of. And now, Chloe doesn't even know why she invited Beca here in the first place, because while reserved, Beca’s the proudest of their relationship, and she can see it in her face right now how much she's hurting.

Chloe knows it's her fault.

“I'm not mad at you.” Beca's smiling softly at her—a sad smile—one of encouragement, or one to try to deter the situation, because she knows that Chloe’ll be upset if Beca shows that she’s upset, Chloe doesn't know. She doesn’t really care either, she just wants to go home. Atlanta home, away from this life she had so happily left behind.

What she does know, is that Beca is one of the most patient, and selfless people she's ever met. She knows she doesn't have to say anything, that she could simply ignore the situation entirely, tell Beca that she's tired, and it'd get dropped. She knows Beca wouldn't push her if she wasn't ready to tell her.

But she also knows that Beca deserves an answer.

“They would hate me if they found out, Bec.” She realizes that it's been a while since she admitted this dark secret of hers aloud. Not since her first year at Barden, when she confided in Aubrey over a bottle of cheap wine.

“It's not that I'm not proud to be with you, I promise. It's just that— I’m scared to lose them. I don't want to lose you, but I can't lose them either, Beca. I'm so sorry.”

She's crying again—she doesn't know if she ever really stopped—but Beca’s soft lips are soon pressed against hers; familiar, comforting, safe.

“You'd never lose me.” Beca whispers against her lips in between kisses, and it's like a blanket of warmth courses through Chloe’s body. It's still crazy to her how in the midst of feeling so sad and confused, Beca can make her feel so loved, make her thoughts that had just moments ago felt so jumbled, suddenly so clear.

“I will tell them.” She states, breaking apart from Beca’s kiss, nodding her head in affirmation.

“You don't have to.”

“I will. Eventually, I will. Maybe not this week, but one day I will.” And Beca’s smile in response is enough for her to know that she’s supported, that Beca will hold her hand through it all.

“I think you're really brave, Chloe.” She doesn't expect that as a response, and she's ready to open her mouth and argue against Beca’s words—tell her that she doesn't feel brave at all—but Beca beats her to it. “No, you really are, and it's one of the things I love most about you. Thank you for telling me.”

There’s something about Beca Mitchell that Chloe finds so captivating. Perhaps it’s the way she smiles so genuinely and so lovingly at her, before she breaks out into a cheeky grin and pulls Chloe back in for another kiss. Maybe it’s the trust that she seems to give Chloe unconditionally, something that she’s seen Beca struggle with so much over the course of knowing her. Beca’s passion, loyalty, determination… Perhaps it’s just Beca’s big heart, that tends to tug on her own, and make her feel weak in the knees.

“You know I love you, right?” Chloe can tell Beca’s getting tired by the pure laziness that’s beginning to leak into her kisses, her heavy hands that are no longer roaming, but holding her close and still against her.

“You’ve told me a few times. I love you, too. I’m fucking exhausted, your family is insane. Sorry that was—”

“Bec, it’s okay.” Chloe laughs softly squeezing Beca’s hand that continues to lay softly on her hip. “They really are, you’re right. But I have you, I think I’m pretty lucky.”

“Oh, my God—you’re gross. So gross. Go to sleep or I’m moving down to the basement.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me.”

[silentauroriamthereal]

So, I watched Happiest Season yesterday, and I have thoughts. A lot of thoughts. Spoilers abound and this is long, so I’ll put this under a cut. 

Happiest Season: a review

You have to ask yourself how “happy” a happy ending really is when you glance down at the time bar on the film and see that there’s less than fifteen minutes left and none of the story’s problems have been even remotely resolved.

Skip to the closing credits, and I hadn’t changed my mind. This is a “happy” ending where a great deal of the problems in the plot were left either completely unresolved, or whose happiness wasn’t earned – wasn’t properly fleshed out, developed, supported, or in fact, even happy.

What an incredibly toxic family the Caldwells are. Let’s start with them: there are three daughters. Sloan has apparently cemented her parents’ permanent disappointment by having left a promising legal career in favour of raising a family. Side tangent: are we really still having this discussion, in 2020? This binary choice between family OR career? Besides, Sloan evidently developed a different, and very lucrative career. I also strongly dislike the way the perception of her marriage ending is portrayed as a failure. Her awful parents both resent her having left the legal field, yet have refused to now see her as anything other than a parent, ignoring her new career choice and, it seems, literally anything else about her. Then we have Jane, who is overtly abused. Treated as lesser than anyone else in the family apart from technical support with malfunctioning printers, Jane is constantly criticized, chastised, literally told to not put herself in the centre of the family for a holiday photo. I was horrified and devastated by the wanton destruction of her painting at the end, too. I’m happy for her that her book got published and that she found success there, but I hate that this brutal, completely unnecessary destruction of her art happened and was totally overlooked.

I’m going to come back to Harper, because there’s a LOT to say there.

The way the parents, Tipper and Ted, treated Abby, was appalling from start to finish. Leaving aside the ENTIRE question of the secret girlfriend thing, if my family ever treated a friend or even distant acquaintance the way the Caldwells treated Abby, I would be furious with them. I used to frequently bring friends who were international students or just on their own for the holidays to my parents’ place for Thanksgiving dinner or Christmas festivities. These people were so, so, so incredibly rude to Abby, from ignoring her when she first arrived to giving her a terrible bedroom with a door that doesn’t lock, to walking in on her multiple times while she was changing or in bed – that level of complete disrespect infuriated me! Just allowing those awful kids to be in her private space without any sort of discipline, consequences, or apologies was unacceptable. The way they treated Abby after those same kids – which she was stuck with, without any sort of request to watch them – planted that necklace on her, was unacceptable. The utter lack of apology for having literally accused her of theft, for accusing her multiple times after that – WOW. Treating Abby as though she was the unexpected, extra guest at the restaurant that first night, and giving the ex-boyfriend the parents kept shoving on Harper the proper one was unacceptable.

Then there’s how Harper treated Abby. Let’s start with the restaurant: first of all, had my parents pulled that stunt on my friend/guest/secret girlfriend, I would have let them know then and there that it wasn’t okay. And then I would have, I don’t know, asked the staff to bring a proper chair, and if that turned out to be impossible, I would have insisted that she take mine instead, and sat on the little chair myself. Asking anyone to closet themselves is an act of violence, and watching that as a member of the LGBTQ2+ community was actively harmful to witness. Again, a lot of the crap that Harper subjected Abby to would have been awful no matter WHO Abby was: you don’t abandon your guest to hang out with old friends. If they’re ready to go home, then you go home with them. It’s basic hospitality. Considering that Abby was Harper’s partner, that’s a whole extra layer of harm. THEN add the ex-boyfriend, a horribly-treated ex-girlfriend, and toxic old friends to the mix, and you have something beyond appalling. Adding this stuff on top of not standing up for Abby to her family, not insisting that she be given somewhere proper to sleep during her time in her parents’ house, not insisting that she be treated with the most basic respect, not defending her during the whole jewellery theft situation, and even going along with the parents’ de-invitation to that dinner – that’s inexcusable. You don’t treat other people that way, much less your partner. Then add Harper calling Abby controlling, while simultaneously having the nerve to get angry about Abby spending time with Riley, which is possibly the only good thing that happened for Abby during that entire, awful trip – yeah. I was finished with Harper by that point.

Harper also actively participated in the way her sisters were constantly put down by their parents. The responsibility of being the privileged favourite is to use your status to bring others up. Harper doesn’t appear to have any sort of spine or courage whatsoever. It was only after she was forcibly outed by Sloan – and such was her privilege that the parents believed that it was a “malicious” lie rather than a “shocking” secret – that Harper even admitted the truth, and that was only after forcing Abby to watch her deny it yet it again. While I did love John (the gay best friend)’s entire speech about someone’s love not being the same thing as being ready to come out, there is nonetheless a ton of harm in forcing your partner watch that. It does affect them. It does disavow their identity at the same time, when they’re in a relationship with you. Her pattern of behaviour of throwing other people under the bus, like Riley, is very much intact.

I completely comprehend Harper’s fear of being rejected by her family. Apparently it was a well-founded fear, based on her awful, awful parents. That’s one of the reasons why the ending didn’t resonate for me at all: it wasn’t earned. Harper’s turn-around from being completely unwilling to have her parents know the truth to claiming that Abby was the only thing that mattered to her, came out of nowhere. It wasn’t a supported development. It happened too quickly. Similarly, the parents both going from being just about the worst parents on the planet to having a VERY sudden change of heart and behaviour, just happened unbelievably quickly. There was no questioning the entire history of their practises or what was wrong with them, no questioning how they’d treated any of their kids. The whole “consequence” for Ted was deciding, of his own accord, not to align himself with a politician who would force Harper to zip it – sorry, continue to zip it – about her identity. He shouldn’t have aligned himself with that woman in the first place. No one ever apologized to Abby about the way they treated her from start to finish, from patronizing her for being an orphan or the constant lack of respect shown her, to the false accusations of theft. Not a single part of it was atoned for at any point. Even Tipper being so disgusted with Abby’s ipad photography skills was disgusting. You just don’t talk to other human beings that way, and there was no resolution for me on any of this. There were also no consequences for Sloan’s horrific, SUPER-public outing of Harper, for Harper’s destruction of Jane’s painting, for the kids’ planting of the necklace on Abby, or for anyone’s horrendous treatment of Abby in general.

So yes: when you’re less than fifteen minutes out from the end of a supposed romantic comedy that was more upsetting to watch than entertaining or funny, and you’re actively rooting for the main character to walk away from her so-called partner and her toxic family, that’s not good. I’m not sold on the “romance” aspect, either. John (Dan Levy’s character) was the only good part of this movie, for me, and that’s overlooking his completely rude ignoring while on his phone at the beginning, or his negligent care of the animals he was supposed to be taking care of. (Gross, again – animals’ lives have value, too, and if my pet sitter killed my pet through negligence while I was away, I would be furious!) But his point about “sticking it to the patriarchy” in terms of Abby asking Ted for his permission/blessing to marry Harper was spot on. For all the hype about this being a progressive, lesbian, holiday rom-com, this film managed to perpetuate a lot of gross aspects of straight, white, misogynistic, heteronormative culture, like women being the property of their fathers and needing to obtain a male parent’s “permission” to marry another human being. The only person’s “permission” that was needed here was Harper’s, and then it’s not about permission – it’s about two adults making a consensual decision to commit themselves to each other. It’s great if you have the support of family – aka, BOTH parents, on BOTH sides – but that support is a bonus, not a prerequisite. Perpetuating the false dichotomy of family vs career for women only, is a harmful one to keep perpetuating. That question is never asked of men.

I was honestly kind of disgusted that Abby chose to stay with Harper by the end. I get it, but it definitely didn’t leave me with warm, romantic feelings. It left me with the deflated feeling I invariably experience whenever a woman makes the choice to be the bigger person and submit herself to a damaging situation or relationship. Mostly what I’m left with is anger that no one spoke up for Abby at any point, even John. That, and anger and sorrow over Jane’s painting. So yeah: it wasn’t as bad as bury your gays, but it also wasn’t really a happy ending for me, or super enjoyable to watch. Do better, Hollywood. Do a lot better.

[madmadmilk]

lol im good! i just to need to type out and post some of my holiday-stress 😔✌️🌟✨ (sad and annoying rant under the cut, feel free to scroll by >>>>)

I DON'T KNOW WHY.... but the "holiday season" (aka mid-november through january) always drains the hell out of me..... like, i love holiday events, seeing friends and family, sharing food, and just the general cheer despite the colder weather, but a part of me always feels profoundly sad through it.

i think i anticipate how sad and lonely i feel between the dates. or i think about how tired i'll be–AUGH. i know, i know i shouldn't focus on THOSE feelings... but i feel them in my bones no matter what.

so please allow me to get my laments off my chest. i'm privileged and grateful for what i have, but i just have to complain a little....

some factors that contribute to my holiday ~anxiety~ this year:

one my cousin's birthday is always the day before thanksgiving. she's an only child and 'her day' is often overlooked in favor of thanksgiving– i always feel like we never do enough for her.

thanksgiving is usually hosted by my family, but my mom is working so we don't want to host without her. but now NO ONE is hosting– and that makes me really sad

this is still only week 2 of me living in this new apartment with my boyfriend

BUT– i think we're going to end up hosting something casual for 'thanksgiving', since everyone is treating it really casually

it makes me sad that this holiday, that we really just use to eat and hang out and spend time together, is being treated so casually. our moms (ha!) are the ones who coordinate things and work hard to make food and now... it's being hot potatoed? just feels bleak

i dont' wanna make this about gender or gender roles: but i'm one of my only cousins who has their own place (still brand fucking new), i have an older daughter complex, i'm put-together and clean, i know how to cook– i don't want to be 'put in the kitchen' for everyone else's enjoyment. i want this all to be shared–– i'm just worried it won't be.

then, moving past thanksgiving, i'm going christmas tree shopping with my bf's mom's side on friday. they're really nice, i'm just shy.

then, my birthday is next saturday (dec 4th, shoutout!) i always want to celebrate but i never want to plan anything– and i'm out of practice with hosting....

hosting, even though it'll be shared with my boyfriend, makes me feel incredibly drained. it must be the oldest daughter complex in me.... also all my friends are like fighting each other so i don't know what kind of combination of people i'll invite. or if i'll do my own fucking thing....

THEN, i was planning on doing a family housewarming/bday lowkey thing on that sunday too–– but if i host thanksgiving it almost cancels out. which makes me sad.

and then and then, the family from florida that i skipped out on visiting over thanksgiving, is coming up here for a mid-december trip. i think they'll end up staying at my apartment instead of my parents' house.

sigh

i know i am incredibly loved and supported and everyone wants to spend time with me, but i feel like i never get to breathe in december. ... in a good way, but also a way that makes me feel crushed and shaken in a bottle.

spider-man comes out in the middle of their time here, and i'm sorry but i'm not missing that premiere lol.

THEN, christmas gift exchange with my boyfriend's dad's side one of the weekends. i need to prepare my secret santa gift.

my family usually celebrates christmas, on christmas eve– but i think for the first time ever, i'll celebrate it with my boyfriend's dad's family. i'm incredibly sad about this.

christmas day, i'll spend with my parents and sibling, but my boyfriend will go see his mom. that's fine with me. i need to prepare their gifts though...

after that... i feel like we're on an easy slope to new years, which i don't put a lot of weight on.

AND while this is all happening–– i have a huge ass project at work that i'll likely be juggling through the weekend cos it's that big of a problem.

yeah, yeah i know these don't sound like that big of a deal... but i can already feel how loud it'll be. i'll be happy and have fun, but i'll feel alone when it comes to preparing and cleaning up because i'm a perfectionist. i don't like it when there's a lot of people in my personal personal space, i have issues with sharing or people touching my things–– i dunno.

just needed to get this off of my chest and truck through the season. it'll all be good.i know it will be.

i think i just need a hug right now

anyway, i hope no one actually read through my whining LOL. but if you do, i hope you have an incredibly warm and peaceful winter. i hope you get to spend some time with people who love and support you wholeheartedly, and i hope that you don't take on any burdens alone.

be warm and well!

lots of love,

j

[victoriareyloficlists]

There Was Only One Bed

Updated 7 November 2021

Rest of the Masterlist.

as luck would have it by prncesselene (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 16 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When a case of violent food poisoning ruins Rose and Hux’s honeymoon plans, who better to take their place at a pre-paid Hawaiian beach resort than the Maid of Honor and Best Man? Sure, it’ll take some maneuvering, but a free vacation is a free vacation. They just have to pretend to be devoted newlyweds for a bit to enjoy it. There’s only one glaring issue, really: they can’t stand each other.) Crisis: Girlfriend by perperuna (AO3 2018  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben had been in love with Rey for over a year when he asked her to go with him to his ex’s wedding as his date and ‘girlfriend’.) Deceit, Delusion, and Desire by AttackoftheDarkCurses, thebuildingsnotonfire (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 16 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Rey realizes her student visa is about to expire, she struggles to find a way to stay in the country legally. Her roommate has a terrible idea, and it's just risky enough to work.) Fireproof by SpaceWaffleHouseTM (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Rey's home is overrun by a wildfire, she has to evacuate with little time and no warning. Then she saves the life of Ben Solo, the neighbor she barely knows, on the road and he offers her a place to stay in the aftermath.) Gimme Shelter by JaneNightwork (AO3 2018  Rated T Complete, 14 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo meets Rey Niima when his mother asks him to drop off a few boxes of old sheets and towels at the animal shelter. He is immediately charmed by her and decides to volunteer at the shelter to get to know her better. In the process of building his relationship with Rey and learning to take care of the animals, Ben learns new ways to heal old hurts.) Happy to Help by SuchaPrettyPoison (AO3 2020  Rated E Incomplete, 13 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Sometimes you just need your neighbor to pretend to be in a relationship with you. Repeatedly.) Home for the Holidays by LarirenShadow (AO3 2016  Rated T Complete, 5 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Kylo Ren, in a moment of weakness, tells his mother he'll be home for Christmas and will bring his girlfriend. Problem is he doesn't have one. Enter Rey, his grad assistant. He makes a deal with her so she'll be his girlfriend for the trip home.) In the Woods Somewhere by Verdantsolstice (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, 5 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Hikers Ben & Rey meet on the trail when they’re both lost. Hours of walking lead them to a convent in the woods. The sisters are very friendly, but refuse to let them both stay unless they’re married. TW: Mentions of ICE and immigration.) Laid Between Words by jeeno2 (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 15 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey is nearing the end of her temporary work Visa. Her friend Ben offers to marry her so she can stay in the U.S. She says yes.) Let me Dream, Let me Stay by Melusine11 (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 12 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey has kept up a charade of a non-existant boyfriend for two years and now that Rose and Finn are getting married, she needs someone to pretend to be said boyfriend, enter her coworker Ben.) Look No Further by thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily) (AO3 2019  Rated T Complete, 9 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey is spending Thanksgiving alone but a late-night Craigslist ad ends up with her agreeing to crash some asshole's family dinner. At the very least, she's curious what kind of people name their son "Kylo Ren" anyway.) Lucky Number Seven by Pearl Gatsby (DrPearlGatsby) (AO3 2019  Rated T Complete, 3 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Number seven on First and Order orders pizza again. Rey groans when she sees the address, remembering how they didn't bother to tip; but that's nothing compared to how she feels when she's been standing outside the door for two solid minutes, knocking and calling the cell number she has. Nobody answers. :: pizza delivery/college AU) Merry Christmas, I'm Yours by captain_staryeyed (AO3 2018  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: After finding out that Rey has nowhere to go for Christmas, Ben invites her to spend Christmas at his parents’ house. During the time spent together, they are forced to confront their growing feelings toward each other.) miles from where you are by Mooncactus (AO3 2018  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: After an argument over Star Wars fandom with a "gatekeeping, entitled monster" with the cryptic username of KyloRen, Rey finds herself stuck in a series of unavoidable video calls.) Miss Johnson & the Professor by ElegyGoldsmith (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Professor Ben has his TA Rey accompany him to a conference in Japan but she accidentally booked a single room.) mountain at my gates by KyloTrashForever (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Hard Outside/Soft Inside Lumberjack Alpha Ben Solo and Horny Engineer Omega Rey Johnson featuring Explicit Hand Holding, ABO, and Mutual Masturbation. (Ft. Snowed In and Bed Sharing for funnies.)) My Whole Life by AttackoftheDarkCurses, thebuildingsnotonfire (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 13 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: The "Without a Hitch" high school sweethearts, fake-dating rom-com AU.) Needing A Teacher by Twisted_Mirror (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 4 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Rey tells her roommate, Ben, that she has only had sex in missionary position, he offers to let her use him to see what she likes. He vows to himself it's all for her pleasure, he has no idea that Rey is trying to drive him crazy.) Nominis by Oh_Snapcrackle (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 8 Chapters, Harry Potter AU, Quick Synopsis: When Professor Skywalker partners Rey with the notorious Ben Solo for occulmency lessons, something goes wrong (or very right) and now their minds are bridged. Between sharing thoughts, inconvenient astral projections, and bedsharing Rey starts to learn that while Ben Solo deserves the reputation he has built, he also deserves the opportunity to change.) Off the cuff by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 4 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Poe gets Ben a stripper for closing a business deal. Ben reluctantly takes part to not waste Poe's money. The stripper hand cuffs him and robs him of clothes and money. Rey heads back to the office late night and finds her hot boss cuffed to the office chair in nothing but his tie.) Only Make-Believe by Hartmannclan (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey is in a car accident, so best friend Ben races to the hospital to be with her. What happens when she wakes up with amnesia and believes they are married?) Peacock by AttackoftheDarkCurses (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 22 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Thanks to a series of misunderstandings, failed attempts at flirting, and loud Katy Perry music, Ben grows to hate his new neighbor. Proposing to her wasn't the best solution to his problems.) Plus Won by AmberDread, DarkMage13, Erulisse17, Trish47, venetum (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, 5 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: After a drunken night of complaining at a bar, Rey and Ben agree to be each other's plus-ones for a variety of events. As friends and family continue to invite them to things, they discover that they really enjoy spending time together. And holding hands. And... kissing. What happens when their relationship starts to feel a lot more real than fake?) Saving What We Love by naboojakku (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 18 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: In which Ben and Rey are voluntarily quarantined together for two weeks. Includes: copious amounts of fluff, discussion of mental illness, and way too many hours of Animal Crossing. Feel-good read during these batshit crazy times.) Say it With Sugar by fettuccine_alfreylo (AO3 2016  Rated E Complete, 20 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo is the owner of his family’s small chocolate shop. Rey Kenobi is a talented chocolate maker he hires. They both share the same passion for chocolate. Unfortunately, they share the same kind of anxiety, too.) Snow Sparkles Like Stars by raptorginger (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 9 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: A blizzard forces Professor (of mythology and cosmology) Kylo Ren, aka Ben Solo, off the road while on his way to his parents’ house in Seattle for the holidays. Luckily, the woman who owns the house he’s stranded at is well prepared for a snow-in and (as a bonus) is adorable. Unluckily, she’s the owner of eight mischievous Alaskan Malamutes, who may or may not be the physical manifestations of the old gods of Norse myth.) Someone to Watch Over Me by AttackoftheDarkCurses (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 6 chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Rey is gifted a state-of-the-art all-house AI to beta-test, she never expected "Kylo" to become her best friend, and she never expected him do anything within his power to give her the winter holiday she's always wanted.) Someone You Love(d) by AttackoftheDarkCurses (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: A misunderstanding leads to a lot of hate sex between roommates Ben and Rey. But when Rey ends up joining him on his trip to visit his family, the truth comes out.) Stone Hollow by violethoure666 (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben and Rey have been tasked with convincing a very grumpy old man to let them use his private road for a bus route. They’re stuck in the middle of nowhere and there’s only one room at the inn *smirk emoji*) Sugar and Spice by Rebel_Scum1221 (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 6 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey bakes when she's stressed, but unfortunately never has enough room to finish all of her baked goods. Thus leading her to give her neighbor- who she may or may not have the hots for- her leftovers. Shenanigans ensue.) Sweet Home by Violetwilson (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Honestly, she only came to Waffle House at two AM to pick up Finn and Poe and maybe order some pancakes. Maybe. But what was she supposed to do when she found a hot businessman with a broken car in the parking lot? Not invite him to sleep over at her place until the town's only mechanic sobered up?) the man, the stallion, and the wind by voicedimplosives (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Weary and alone, Rey barrels west on the Trans-Canada Hwy in her old pickup truck. Weary and in need of a lift, Ben Solo stands by the side of the road with his thumb out, in the hopes of hitching a ride. One hell of a winter storm’s about to roll in, leaving them stranded. What ever shall they do?) The Trial of Naboo: Fall of a Duke by Twin_Kitten (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Historical AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben and Rey are engaged to be married, but after several attempts on her life, he takes personal responsibility for her safety, including keeping her in his bed at night. Problem? Ben is extremely attracted to his bride but the MUST wait until marriage. ) Trapped by spacey_gracie (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 5 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey and Ben have been sworn enemies since they were eight years old. When their best friends Rose and Hux start dating, they decide they're sick of the fighting, and force the pair together to work out their issues once and for all.) under thy own life's key by galvanator (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben and Rey share a bed on a trip and everything is totally normal and nothing is weird.) variations on a theme of you by diasterisms (AO3 2017  Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Canon AU, Quick Synopsis: "Who knows?" Luke darted a faint smile at Ben and Rey as they stewed in silence and disbelief. "The two of you might even learn to get along. Right, Leia?" "Like a house on fire," the General deadpanned. "Complete with screams, flames, and people running for safety." "Indeed." Luke's blue eyes twinkled. "There may be no survivors.") What if I want to kiss you tomorrow? by Hellyjellybean (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben needs to share Rey's bed for the night, but does he want to share more than a bed with her? ) what you take with you by irridesca (AO3 2021  Rated E Complete, 16 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Rey's former boss, heartless defense attorney Kylo Ren, is shot in the head, she's asked to return to her position as his assistant to oversee his recovery. The only problem? When he wakes up two days later, he has no idea who Kylo Ren is. According to him, his name is Ben Solo.) When the party ends by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2021  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey gets wasted at a frat party. Ben finds her, puts her in his room, where she's safe. Rey wakes in the morning after Ben comes out of the shower and nakedness ensues.) would you be so kind? by youcarrymeaway (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 3 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: An au where Ben accidentally hits Rey with his car, and also falls in love with her a little.)

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 55 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Thanksgiving went on for 17 million years. (AKA 5 Chapters) We laughed, we cried (did we cry? I don’t think we cried – except for Adore maybe), we fucked on some stairs until our knees gave out...

This Chapter: Pearl makes a getaway, Raven carbs up, and Violet returns to work with help from a very special assistant.

***

“Pearl! Pearl, wake up!”

Pearl stirred, a hand shaking her, and opened her eyes. Fame was leaning over her, a sleep mask pushed up on her forehead, a frantic expression in her eyes.

It had been a long night. When Pearl arrived at the townhouse, they’d at down and had a long heart to heart, Pearl tearfully confessing the whole sordid tale of her and Adore over tea and leftover cranberry apple crisp, Fame even going the extra mile and topping it with an uncharacteristic scoop of ice cream--she must really have seemed pathetic. Pearl told her everything, and while Fame was understanding, she didn’t hold back or let her off the hook either, pointing out where she thought she’d fucked up, how she could have done better, and why Adore was justified in her hurt and anger. It was difficult to hear at times, but Pearl appreciated her honesty. Most of all, she appreciated that Fame stayed to listen, giving her the space to talk it out, sometimes resting a hand on her thigh just to let her know that she was still there.

After that, cried out and emotionally exhausted, they’d climbed into Fame’s bed to snuggle and watch TV, Pearl’s eyelids soon drooping heavily. When Patrick got home, Pearl had offered to leave, of course, but he saw how tired she was and insisted she stay, Fame sleeping in the middle of the bed.

Now, it was morning and Fame was apparently in a tizzy over something. Pearl rubbed her eyes.

“What’s going on?”

“The chef’s idiot assistant let in my in-laws without asking. I have no idea why they’re here so early, we clearly said brunch was at noon!” Fame fretted, Patrick buttoning his shirt in the background.

Pearl tried to catch up. “The chef?”

“Oh my god, what are we going to do?!” Fame explained, hands pressed to her cheeks.

“She could go out the window…” Patrick joked.

“Yes!” Fame turned back to Pearl. “Get dressed, you’re going out the window.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Pearl asked. “That’s dangerous!”

“Use the trellis!”

“Darling, I was kidding,” Patrick said gently.

“Well, I’m not!” Fame snapped her fingers. “Where are her pants?”

Patrick handed over Pearl’s skinny jeans, shaking his head. “Can’t we just say that one of your employees came for an early meeting?”

“Oh yeah Patrick, an early meeting on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Here in our bedroom. Sounds totally respectable. I can’t believe this, we’re never using chef John again! Pearl, hurry up.” She got up and walked to the window that overlooked the backyard, unlocking it and opening it wide.

“Was he supposed to let them just wait on the front stoop?”

“Patrick,” Fame said sternly, in that tone that told them both that she was not fucking around. “If you’re not going to offer any other solutions, you can just go downstairs and entertain your stupid family.”

“I’m gonna let that one slide,” Patrick said as he walked to the door. “And Pearl, godspeed. Try to avoid the rose bushes if you fall.”

“So, is this your way of telling me that I’m not staying for brunch with the fam?” Pearl asked, putting on her jacket and slinging her messenger bag over her shoulder.

“Pearl.” That same tone again, entirely unamused.

Pearl stepped up to her at the window, looking out. The good news was, there was a high cement wall that would likely break her fall before the ground. Worst case scenario, she’d break a bone...or two.

“This is the first time I’ve done anything like this since high school,” she giggled, then reached out and touched Fame’s hand. “Thanks for last night.”

“Of course,” Fame replied, softening for a moment, leaning in to give her a gentle kiss on the mouth. “Anytime.”

“Anytime except right now, you mean?”

“Exactly,” Fame said, helping her climb onto the window ledge and over to the trellis. “Once you get down to the garden, make sure to go around that way,” she pointed, “And duck when you pass the windows.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

***

“Now,” Juju took the dinosaur tray from the counter, handing it to her son, his pancakes carefully cut up, “take it slow when-” Juju was cut off as Owen grabbed the tray, practically spinning around in his haste to make it back to the family room. “Hey! I said take it slow young man!”

It was a Sanderson family tradition to spend the Saturday after Thanksgiving with pajamas, pancakes and TV, and even though Kelly had gotten too old to join, their teenager leaving the house almost as soon as they had made it back from Boston, Juju knew with absolute certainty that she’d find a toddler under each of her husband's arms, time with dad something the twins valued above anything else.

“They grow up so fast.” Raven smiled, her best friend sitting at the kitchen counter in a set of soft pink silk pajamas, twirling a bit of hair around her finger.

“Don’t even say it,” Juju sighed, cutting up the last of the fruit so she could make Raven a plate too. “It feels like we just left the hospital.”

“You’ll have another little one soon.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Juju smirked, and Raven laughed, taking the offered assortment of fruit that Juju handed her, but then, something crazy happened. Raven grabbed two pancakes too, putting them on her plate.

“Hey girly, what’re you doing?” Juju didn’t normally care about Raven’s diets--actually, she tried not to be involved in them at all whenever she could, but she had already spotted her best friend putting creamer in her coffee. Juju worked in fashion as well, several houses and magazines using her on shoots, but she didn’t think she’d ever really understand the sacrifices models went through. Sure, it was part of their job to go to the gym, but she didn’t think she’d ever be able to do it, even though Raja had made it seem effortlessly easy when she had been in her prime. “I know Sutan isn’t here, but I don’t believe the warden has relaxed the rules that much.”

“Well.” Raven looked uncharacteristically insecure for a moment, crossing her arms. “I’ve decided I’m done doing swimwear.”

“Oh?” Juju knew Raven had campaigns coming up in December, her friend complaining about it the last time they saw each other.

“Yes.” Raven nodded. “I’m done. It’s not worth the money, when it’s killing me to stay in runway shape year round.”

“Okay.” Juju nodded, sort of understanding where Raven was coming from. When she wasn’t walking fashion weeks where everyone had to fit sample sizes, the industry loved her curves, Raven smoking hot when she allowed herself to get to a size 4 or even a 6, which was a much more accurate representation of what her body actually looked like. “And Tan is cool with it?”

Somehow, it worked for Raven to have her fiancée’s brother as a manager, but Juju knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would have killed Detox if he ever tried to make decisions on her career, even the idea of Raja, Fame, heck, even Bianca moving in on her turf making her genuinely uncomfortable.

“I…” Raven clicked her tongue. “Might not have told him yet.”

***

“Urgh,” Sutan groaned as he flopped on the couch, face first, a white t-shirt clinging to his chest. “Fuck.”

“Hello,” Violet was biting her lip in an effort not to smile, her boyfriend absolutely exhausted, his duffle bag thrown somewhere on the floor. “Did you have a nice time at the gym?”

They had been in the middle of breakfast, Violet making her way through a coconut yogurt when Sutan had gotten a call, his eyes widening to an almost comical size when he recognized the number, the horror on his face telling the clear story of how he had completely forgotten.

“My trainer is an absolute sadist.”

“Mmh?” Violet had never seen him move so fast, Sutan drowning his coffee in one big gulp, barely pressing a kiss against her temple before he had rushed out the door, grabbing what was apparently an emergency gym bag from the hallway closet.

“He made me do 25 extra sets of everything for being late. Can you believe I’m paying someone to torture me?” Sutan toed his shoes off, winching at the movement as he got on his back, putting his head on her thigh, his hair still slightly damp. “I thought I was going to die.”

Violet had wondered why Sutan had never let her be around when he went to the gym, the man only going on nights or mornings when they weren’t spending time together.

Now, it seemed like she had her answer.

“Poor you.” Violet smiled, running her fingers over his forehead, the TV playing quietly in the background.

“I know you don’t mean that,” Sutan looked up at her, “but I’ll take it.”

“You know,” Violet bit her lip not to yawn, the smallest of efforts almost taking her out, putting their breakfast away and getting to the couch feeling like enormous tasks. “I’m going to be so jealous once I’m off my pain killers.”

Violet tried not to think too hard about what a broken bone actually meant, not being able to run or even do yoga to manage her emotions a complete nightmare.

“Seriously?” Sutan lifted an eyebrow, and Violet ran a finger over it. “When I was 23, you couldn’t force me to go to the gym.” Sutan smiled. “Not that Raja’s model diet made it necessary.”

“You were on a model diet?”

“Beat having to cook for myself.” Sutan grinned, and Violet could totally imagine it, the Amrull twins chugging their way through green smoothies side by side.

“How long did you actually live with Raja?”

“Literal decades,” Sutan snorted. “God I’m ancient.”

“I like to think of you as finely aged wine.”

“HA!” Sutan laughed, and Violet couldn’t help but smile. She loved watching him laugh, loved seeing his face scrunch up with happiness. “For that lovely eyes,” Sutan pointed up at her. “You get to stay another week.”

“Oh…” Violet paused, “I, umh, I didn’t…” She had felt so happy just moments before, but now, she could feel the uncertainty crawl up her spine. “We never actually talked about… You don’t have to do-”

It wasn’t like her at all, but Violet had simply not considered the week to come, hadn’t even thought about where she would be staying, what she would be wearing, what she’d be doing with herself beyond believing Sutan when he said he’d get her to work Monday.

“Violet.” Sutan reached up, grabbing her neck, his fingers easily holding her. “You live on the 5th floor with no elevator.”

“And I appreciate your help, but I’d never want to-”

“You’re staying here. No argument. I’d be a terrible boyfriend, fuck, I’d be a terrible friend, if I wasn’t cool with you staying here.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Sutan nodded. “Besides,” He pulled on Violet’s neck, forcing her down so he could press a kiss against her lips. “I like having you around.”

Sutan smirked, and Violet couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks.”

***

“Where do you think you’re going?” Katya was whispering as she looked over at her fiancé. She and Trixie were in the movies, Annabelle playing on the screen.

“I have to pee, I had an extra large soda.”

Katya placed her hand on Trixie’s chest, pushing him down into the seat, keeping him in place. “No.”

“What?!” Trixie hissed.

“I said no.”

And in that moment Trixie saw how Katya was smiling, and he felt a surge of arousal go through him.

“Okay…”

Trixie leaned back in his chair, Katya’s hand on his chest ending up on his stomach where it rested, keeping him in place.

Trixie couldn’t help but squirm, arousal and the need to pee getting mixed up in his head, a heavy sensation settling over his entire body, his fingers drumming on the seat, restless energy filling him as the movie continued.

“Katya, please…” Tixie hissed, the stupid movie not even halfway done. “I’m about to explode.”

“No.”

Katya smiled, picking up her drink, her lips closing around the straw as she oh so slowly drank the rest of her own small soda, the sound causing chills to run over Trixie’s spine.

Katya held him in seat through the credits, and Trixie had tears in his eyes, he had to pee so badly, but Katya had told him he couldn’t, so he wouldn’t, because he was her good boy.

The very last name ran over the screen, and Katya removed her hand, Trixie shooting up from his seat, his jacket and even his bag forgotten as he ran to the bathroom, a sense of euphoria rushing over him as he could finally, finally, finally pee, his entire body shivering in delight.

***

When Bob heard the design floor door open, he instantly perked up, whirling around in his chair.

“Well well well!” he exclaimed, yelling out to the floor, his oversized coffee mug in hand, a pencil tucked behind her ear. “Look who’s back!”

“Hi everyone,” Violet came through the door, a happy but unsure smile on her face. It was clear that she wanted to wave, but she was stuck with her crutches, a bulgy cast on her ankle.

Violet looked over her shoulder, and Bob felt his eyes bulge out as none other than silver fox of the year, Sutan Amrull, came through the door in an impeccable suit, Violet’s purse and what had to be both of their jackets on his arm.

“I knew it!” Bob cried out, slapping his desk with his hand. “I knew those two were dating! No lipstick my ass!”

He looked around triumphantly, everyone's attention now divided between Bob and the pair at the door, Sutan looking on with a raised eyebrow and a smile on his lips, while Violet seemed like she was wishing that the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

“Good work, Sherlock.” Jovan drawled, his head in his hand as he was sitting backwards on his chair. “How’d you figure that one out?”

“Well you see-” Bob grinned, just about to go on a tangent, when he was cut off by his boyfriend, Maxwell leaning against his desk.

“I literally told you they were dating a fucking week ago.”

“Right.” Bob huffed. “But you’re always wrong about this stuff.”

Sure. Max had told him that about the whole Violet falling thing, the drama with Aiden the talk of the department, but he hadn’t actually believed it when Max had said he had seen Sutan Amrull press a kiss against Violet’s temple, the two of them apparently leaving together.

“Are your coworkers always this much fun?”

Bob’s head whipped at the sound of Sutan’s voice, the man smiling as he looked down at Violet, one of his hands in his suit pocket.

“Don’t answer that Chachki!” Jovan yelled out, making everyone laugh. “Just come on over here!”

Violet looked extremely relieved to be called for, and Sutan followed behind her as she swung herself across the room on her crutches-- No hobbling for that bitch.

“Man, look at you go!” Bob grinned, walking over to Jovan and Violet’s desks, his own work completely abandoned. “It’s like you’ve been using those things all your life!”

“Thanks Bob,” Violet replied drily, even though she was smiling. She looked a lot better than he expected, her hair and makeup done to her usual perfect standards, curls cascading down her back. She was wearing a long sleeved black dress with a high-waisted skirt, and even a heel on her good foot, Violet Chachki as always picture perfect.

“I cannot believe you’re wearing heels with crutches. You’re an icon, and we should all aspire to your standards.”

“You’d fail.”

“Ha!” Jovan snorted, the man giving Violet’s shoulder a quick squeeze before he returned to his computer.

“Besides.” Violet pulled out her chair, sitting down with as much grace as she could muster, shaking her head disdainfully. “It’s only 2 inches.”

“I promise you,” Sutan smiled, putting Violet’s bag down on the table. “I tried to tell her it was a terrible idea.”

“Good to know.” Bob bit his cheek not to give too much away, but on the inside, he was dancing with delight at all the delicious gossip he was gobbling up. “Hi, Bob Caldwell.” Bob held his hand out, nearly shrinking on the inside when Sutan took it. “Design Project Manager.”

“Sutan Amrull,” Sutan smiled, shaking it firmly. “Elite Model Management, though around here I’m probably better known as Raja’s brother. I assume you know her very well.”

“We sure do.” If Bob was honest, he had forgotten that Maxwell had followed him over, but what he wouldn’t forget was the ridiculous grin on his boyfriend's face as he shook hands with Sutan. “I’m Maxwell Heller. Designer.”

“I’m familiar with your work.” Sutan grinned, pulling back to take a seat on the edge of Violet’s desk and Bob wiggled his eyebrows at Max, who nudged his elbow into his side.

“What do you have there, lovely eyes?”

Bob’s eyes widened in delight as Violet looked up like she had fully forgotten they were all still there, her embroidery frame already in hand, the massive skirt she was working on tethered to it.

“The dress.” Violet smiled, the worry Bob had seen on her face when she first walked in all gone now that her work was safely back in her hands. “The couture one.”

“This is your couture dress? Let me see.” Sutan reached into his jacket pocket, taking out a pair of glasses that he quickly slipped on before he carefully picked at the skirt, taking a section that was already done, examining the work. “This is very impressive.”

“Did you hear she’s closing the Spring runway?” Bob grinned, the morning only getting better and better.

“Well,” Sutan pushed his glasses into his hair, a big smile on his face, “with a gown like this, how could she not?”

“And that’s enough for you!” Violet reached out, her cheeks pink as she took the dress from his hands, her tone stern even though she was smiling. “Thank you for fulfilling your duties as a full time boyfriend by carrying my stuff. You can leave now.”

“Boyfriend?” Maxwell squeaked, and this time, it was Bob’s turn to nudge him.

“Am I a little too old for that title?” Sutan smirked, looking between them.

“Well,” Violet interjected, her tone completely dry. “You can be my man friend if you’d prefer?”

“Ha!” Sutan snorted, a grin on his face. “And I think that’s my cue to go. I’ll text you.” He leaned over the desk, giving Violet a quick peck on the lips before standing up, shaking hands with Max and Bob and waving to Jovan as he grabbed his jacket and left.

“Damn Chachki,” Bob watched as Sutan left, his arms crossed over his chest. “We gotta hand it to you. That is one sexy fucking man.”

“Umh…” Violet paused, looking up at them, her embroidery needle already in hand. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.”

***

“Morning, Jackie!” Sutan waved, stopping in the assistant bullpen to check if he had gotten any physical mail. Jackie was a new girl, had originally only started out as a temp, but she had done a shockingly good job, so Elite had officially hired her a few weeks ago.

Sutan didn’t have his own personal assistant, and had never had one even though he was sure Tamisha would give him one if he asked.

“How was your Thanksgiving?”

“Great, thanks.” Jackie smiled, her brown bang swept across her forehead. She was wearing a green and yellow sweater, her nails painted in a deep orange.

Sutan loved Jackie's style, the woman always dressed like she was living in the 60s, but his favorite thing was that she was cool, calm and collected under pressure, and unlike the baby temps, she was a woman in her late 30s who hadn’t just taken the job in the hopes of becoming a model.

“Also,” Jackie lowered her voice, leaning over the desk. “Ms. Petruschin is waiting for you in your office.”

“Hmm?” Sutan raised an eyebrow. He had an open door policy, and everyone was always welcome, but usually, they were welcome when he was actually there. He hadn’t stopped for coffee after dropping Violet off at work, and now, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had made a mistake.

“She didn’t want to wait at reception, so I let her in.”

“Ah.” Sutan nodded. That sounded just about right for Raven. “Don’t worry about it. You did the right thing.”

Sutan walked over to his office, not even trying his key in the door since he knew it’d be unlocked.

“Raven!” Sutan put on his best game face, his voice light and happy. “To what do we owe the honor of your presence?”

Raven looked up from where she was sitting-- not sprawled on the couch where she’d normally be, but at a chair in front of his desk, spine ramrod straight, her Birkin carefully placed on the floor.

“... Everything okay?” Sutan shut the door behind him, quickly flicking the lock. Normally when he had his models come by, he’d take a seat behind his desk, but today, that didn’t seem like the right option, so instead, he sat on the corner of the table, looking down at his sister in law. “Raven?”

“I,” Raven bit her lip, her white teeth sinking into it. “I have something to tell you.”

“Okay?” Sutan kept his voice level, doing everything he could not to let his worry show on his face. The last time Raven had come to him like this, it had been with an absolute disaster involving several talks with a lawyer, but Raja hadn’t said anything, hadn’t given him any hints or sent a single text, so it couldn’t be that bad.

“So,” Raven took a deep breath, lifting her chin as she looked directly at him. “I don’t want to do swimwear anymore.”

“.... Okay?”

“It’s not worth it, and I hate it.”

Out of everything Sutan had dreaded. Of all the things that had flashed through his mind. This was not what he had expected at all.

“Well, that’s not a problem.”

“You’re not mad?” Raven’s eyes widened, surprise and anxiety painted on her beautiful face.

It was clear that Raven had expected him to be disappointed, or even upset, and Sutan couldn’t help but remember the inexperienced young girl he’d signed at only 17 years old.

It had been a long time since he’d been reminded of that, the Raven of today much more likely to slam a door or yell in his face, but the tough act had always been and would always be a facade to hide her obvious vulnerability.

Other agents had sometimes asked how he dealt with her, how he could remain calm in the storm of Raven’s emotions, but he had always felt responsible for her well being, and had always felt protective of her.

“Raven.” Sutan crossed his arms. “It’s your career. Your body. Your decisions. How I feel, and how the brand feels doesn’t matter if you hating it is your genuine emotion.”

Raven nodded, swallowing, and Sutan could see that it wasn’t an easy decision for her.

“As your agent, it’s my responsibility to make sure that you stick to your commitments, but cancellation fees exist for a reason.”

At that, Raven winced, two cancellation fees taking a hefty chunk out of her next paycheck, half of the money going to the brand while the other would end up in Sutan’s pocket but she didn’t protest, sticking to her decision, and that was when he knew she was serious, that she had thought it through.

“Rave,” Sutan reached out, touching her shoulder. “We’re okay.”

At that, a smile finally cracked through, a relieved sigh coming from her. “Good.”

“You know,” Sutan pushed up from the desk, walking around it. “We just got the potential for a Clinique campaign.” Sutan picked up the sales pitch he had received, Clinique sending over a courier with the products they wanted to focus on, Raven being one of their top five picks for the campaign.

“Clinique?”

“I wasn’t going to offer it to you because it conflicted with your December shoots, so I’ve been pulling alts for them, but now, it seems like we can say yes.”

“They pay well, don’t they?”

“That they do,” Sutan had to hide a smile at Raven’s obvious enthusiasm. “You haven’t filmed any commercials in a while, and I know you generally avoid speaking.”

To say that would be an understatement, a director once telling teenage Raven that he couldn’t understand her because of her Russian accent. Raven had gone directly to a speech therapist after that, even though Sutan had found it completely unnecessary, the director just a bigoted jerk.

“Consider it.” Sutan handed her the pitch. “You’d be absolutely fabulous.”

“Maybe,” Raven smirked, “if the offers are lucrative enough to be worth my time.” She tossed her long dark hair over one shoulder, and Sutan grinned.

That was the girl he knew and loved.

“Only the very best, top tier gigs for you.”

“Exactly,” Raven laughed, standing up, the pitch still in hand as she cleared her throat. “Well, guess I’m off.”

“Off to celebrate with some bonus desserts?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing.” Sutan smirked. “Just remember that you’re still a model.”

“Yeah, yeah yeah, stop yapping,” Raven said, her sass fully back as she sailed out the door with a flurry of air kisses.

“Leave it open!” Sutan sat down at his desk, his plans for the day suddenly shifted around. First of all, he’d have to call up the magazine who had booked the shoots and break the news that Raven wouldn’t be available.

It’d require some smooth talk, but it was what he did best.

The real challenge of the day was convincing them to switch to another model, and hopefully, a model that resided under his own wing.

Sutan pressed the button that called for Jackie, the woman showing up before he had even opened his computer. She really was incredible at the job.

“You called?”

“I need the best possible portfolio we can make for Symone, and I need it stat.”

***

“Oh dear god…” Fame covered her eyes with her hands. “Please tell me that this has been handled, Raja, I cannot-”

“Of course it’s been handled. Trixie let Aiden go on Tuesday, and Rita took care of everything with the hospital. We’re making an attorney available to Violet if she wants to press charges.”

“Do you think she will?” Fame asked, concern creasing her brow. “That’s the last thing we-”

“Listen. We obviously can’t do anything to dissuade her, or we face an even bigger liability.”

“I know that, Raja,” Fame snapped.

“-But, my guess is that she’ll want to wash her hands of the whole thing, certainly not become embroiled in a lawsuit.”

“Right. Right…” Fame sighed. “And we’ve covering all medical costs, taxis, whatever she needs right?”

“Of course. It’s a worker’s comp thing now, so everything’s covered by insurance.”

“Good. I should probably send her something, too. Flowers, maybe. Or a little spa treatment?”

“That would be nice, I’m sure she’d appreciate it. She’s staying with Tan if you want to-”

“Courtney!” Fame called out, pausing for a few moments before shaking her head. “I swear, that girl left her head at home today. Courtney!”

***

Courtney was obsessing again, reading her last text exchange with Bianca for about the 75th time since Friday.

COURTNEY: Have a good flight! <3

BIANCA: Thx! See you next week. XX

It was so mundane, so trite, and Courtney found herself cringing inwardly every time she looked at it, wishing she’d said something deeper or smarter or more sophisticated. And the “see you next week” - did that imply that Bianca didn’t want to talk to her while she was away? It certainly sounded like it. But Courtney wanted to send her another message, wanted desperately to let her know that she was still thinking about her.

She’d been racking her brain for something, anything, to say. She could ask her a question about their upcoming meeting at Marie Claire on Friday, but something told Courtney that would be transparent and dumb, and in no way sexy anyway. What she was really thinking about, nearly constantly, was if she’d ever get to feel Bianca’s hands on her again, the heat of her mouth, the press of her perfect body. That she was ready to sell her soul for one more night together, one more exhilarating night...

But she couldn’t very well say that. She didn’t want to appear needy or crazy, even if that’s how she felt. What she’d said to Adore was tragically true: the ball was entirely in Bianca’s court. And if she was done, if she didn’t intend to see her again except at work-related events or casual encounters, then that was something Courtney would just have to live with.

The one source of hope that Courtney had, maybe a false one, was the way Bianca had kissed her goodbye. Soft and tender, cradling her face, a kiss that promised more.

Even if she’d made no such promise out loud.

Even if Courtney was an absolute idiot for thinking that’s what it meant.

“Courtney!”

Her head snapped up, realizing with a sinking feeling that Miss Fame had called her name multiple times. Shit. She grabbed her notepad and jumped up.

“Coming Miss!”

***

[awhiskeyriver]

Yay! So happy that you're writing AND that we get to have some more insight on TheBet! Peeta! :) I'd like to know what was going on his mind on thanksgiving, with K being there with his family. Also, it's not Peeta's POV, but I was always wondered what Madge's thoughts on Katniss were when they accidently met at the boys apartment door for the first time, and also when she sees K in the dunk tank and Peeta stops to "save" her. Did she recognize K from the bet? Was she curious?

Thank you so much!

Okay, so this isn’t *exactly* what you requested...but this is the scene at the dunk tank from Peeta’s POV with some insight into Madge as well! I had a few requests for the Thanksgiving scene, so keep an eye out for that one later on as well! :) Hope you enjoy!

+++

“Hey, I know her.” 

I turned to Madge, following her line of sight down the pier to where Katniss Everdeen was sitting above a dunk tank clad in nothing but a soaked-through bikini. As if on cue, a gust of cool wind struck and I watched her shoulders instinctively hunch while some guy with a megaphone encouraged people to visit the booth.

“Yeah, everyone knows her,” Gale snorted, looking away with a shake of his head. “She’ll go down in history as the dumbest sorority girl at Panem. And that’s saying something.”

Why would they choose a dunk tank for a party in the middle of October? It wouldn’t surprise me if there was snow on the ground in a few short weeks, and yet they had people sitting out at night in barely anything? Made no sense. Megaphone guy looked warm enough in his fleece jacket...

Madge shot Gale a disapproving look before pressing on. “I meant that’s the girl who came to the apartment the other day.”

“Stop pointing,” I hissed, rubbing a hand along the back of my neck subconsciously. The last thing I needed was for her to catch us talking about her. 

When coach heavily implied we all needed to spend more time together off field ‘bonding’--aka, I needed to leave the apartment for more than practice and class--the only option worth consideration was to head to Greek row. It was the place most students could be found on a Saturday night, and this weekend more than most, since it was their fall fundraiser. Chances of encountering Katniss were high, and I knew that, but I could hardly convince my team mates and coach that I was over the entire bet if I kept avoiding social settings like the plague.

So, to the frat house we went. And sure enough, there she was.

I swallowed heavily, hating the way the sweat on the back of my neck felt ice cold when the wind hit. And the way it made me pity Katniss for how cold she must be.

Shit, she caught me staring. 

Our eyes met for a short moment before I looked away, uncomfortable heat encompassing my body at being caught. 

Madge, who had no shame, continued to look on before nudging me in the side playfully.

“She’s got a smokin’ body.”

“Jesus, Madge,” I grumbled, afraid someone would over hear her. My embarrassment only made her laugh and she patted my back lovingly as I stared down at my shoes. 

I could feel Katniss looking over in my direction still. The heat of her deep gray eyes boring into the side of my head. Her full lips pursed and eyebrows slightly downcast. 

“Am I wrong?” she asked, the question open for any takers. I wasn’t stupid, I saw the lingering glances a few of the guys gave before trying to feign indifference. If it was for my sake, there was no point. I knew she was good looking.

Hot.

I chanced another glance, and for a heated moment we stared at one another. Swallowing hard and stuffed my hands down into my pockets for something to do.

Who was I kidding, she was fucking stunning.

Which made me all the more an idiot for ever believing she was interested in me.

“It’d be kind of funny to dunk her,” Gale pointed out, wrapping a protective arm around Madge to starve off the wind. I watched in the distance as Katniss gave into the struggle and finally wrapped her arms around her bare stomach. 

How much longer would they seriously make her stay up there?

“Try your chances to dunk a Theta. You can’t convince me you haven’t thought about it at least once,” Megaphone guy continued to taunt. “If for no other reason, it’s an excuse to see one soaking wet…”

My feet moved without permission, before I was even fully aware of what I was doing, but I heard Finnick ask where I was going and saw the wide-eyed stare of Katniss as I walked up to the dunk tank.

The guy attending it lowered his megaphone to the table and leaned forward with an easy grin. Either he recognized me, or thought I was a scumbag who gave into his pitch. Or both.

“Five bucks for three hits, bro,” he said, holding a hand out.

“How many rounds until she’s done for the night?” Something about her sitting there on display, shivering so hard her teeth were chattering, made me ask.

The guy looked confused, and I was staring to lose my patience.

“You want her to get down?” he confirmed, and when I gave a short nod his eyes narrowed.

“That’s not really how this works.”

“Will it work for two-hundred?”

“Dollars?” 

I pulled out my wallet, handing him the cash with ease that should’ve given me pause. I was in too deep to care, now. Focused on my goal.

“You can do whatever you want with her for two hundred dollars,” the kid joked, and he seemed to sense my disapproval as he turned to the megaphone to announce to anyone within a five mile radius that I’d paid a pretty penny to play the game. Surrounding us a few people cheered or clapped, but mostly we went ignored as he slapped a bucket of bean bags onto the table for me to take the hits I’d paid for. I ignored it, walking past the table and over to the booth where Katniss eyed me with a level of distrust.

“Hey,” she said slowly, crossing her legs which were eye-level with my face.

I cleared my throat before returning the sentiment. 

Her eyes darted between the untouched bean bags and me for a moment before a sly smirk tickled her lips.

“Come to warn me that you’re about to pelt me with a bucket worth of bean bags?” she laughed, eyebrows raised in question.

“No,” I said, and my answer seemed to surprise her. Did she really think I was going to throw bean bags at her? “I came to tell you that you can get down.” 

She wasn’t convinced. Katniss folded her arms across herself, doing wonderful things to her chest that I fought to ignore as I kept my eyes trained on her face, which was still painted with unease.

I realized then that my request came off more instructional and demanding than I intended, like I was ordering her to get down or something. It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that maybe she was having fun. Despite the cold, she might’ve been enjoying herself and there I was, coming to ruin it.

“If you want,” I added, lamely, wondering if again I was about to be rejected, left to walk away awkwardly after yet another failed encounter with Katniss Everdeen.

I’d barely gotten the words out before she nodded eagerly though, reaching out for help to get down from the high seat above the tank. I lifted an arm up to help, not letting go of hers until she was firmly back on the ground. 

“Thanks,” she said quietly, pushing a piece of curly hair back behind her ear before crossing her arms again.

“No problem.” I was glad my voice came out normal, masking the way my heart was pounding inside my chest with her standing inches away from me practically naked.

Practically naked.

Shit.

“Do you, uh, have a towel or a blanket?” A blanket? Really? I looked around the ground stupidly for anything resembling such, but came up short. 

“I left it inside,” she admitted, biting down on her lip. 

“Here.” I pulled my sweatshirt off, smoothing the material out before holding it out for her to take. It wasn’t much, but comparatively it was something at least. 

She took the offering without complaint, pulling it down over her head before turning up to me with an appreciative smile. 

She was drowning in the fabric, the thing almost reached her knees it was so big and she had to roll the sleeves several times before the material stopped falling over her hands.

“Sorry,” I said, sheepishly. “It’s huge.”

“It’s comfortable,” she argued, and the bright smile she gifted me was enough for me to return it. We stood there a moment longer, but with nothing more to say and the temperature only dropping, I figured it was best to let her go inside to warm up.

When I chanced a glance over at the group of people waiting for me, their reactions to the exchange between Katniss and I varied, but Madge gave me a wink that had me turning away quickly. 

“I’ll come find you after I change to return this,” she said, motioning to the sweatshirt.

“Don’t worry about that,” I said quickly, not wanting her to feel like it was all part of some elaborate ploy to make her come find me later tonight. She could keep it forever, for all I cared. It looked far better on her than it ever had on me.

Her expression looked doubtful though, and sensing she needed some reassurance, I added, “You can give it back to me another time. Just go get warm. It’s freezing out here.” 

“Okay,” she said almost shyly, a far cry from the girl I’d originally met. But, I guess that was where we were now that things had fallen apart. Awkwardly tip-toeing around one another, unsure of how to proceed. Not really friends but...what? Not enemies, at least. It didn’t seem like it.

“Peet, let’s go!” I heard Finnick call out and the realization that they were all still standing there watching, that anyone could be, made my skin heat. 

“I’ve uh, gotta get going.” 

She waved goodbye as I turned to walk away, unsure how I felt about the exchange. But when I made my way back to the waiting group, Madge gave me one of her clever looks that couldn’t go ignored.

“What?” I asked, hesitantly. I really didn’t feel like being the center of conversation--especially one to do with Katniss Everdeen--for the rest of the night. 

“That was a good move, giving her your jacket.”

“It’s cold,” I insisted. 

“Yeah, but now she’ll have to return it.”

“I mean, she doesn’t have to,” I said quietly, trying to remember if I’d asked her to or not but the whole conversation was honestly a blur. 

“She will.” Madge was leaving no room for debate. “And in order to do that, she’ll need to set up a time to see you again. Sly dog.” 

“It’s not like that,” I insisted, but Madge only shrugged before walking quicker to catch up with Gale. 

She was a helpless romantic, it wasn’t her fault, but that didn’t change the fact that there was nothing between Katniss Everdeen and I besides guilt and awkwardness. Maybe in an alternate universe, before the bet things could’ve been different. 

But in this one, she is somebody with endless options. Beautiful, popular…

And I’m just me.

[harringtown]

moments stolen - part 2

catch up here

Summary: Steve forgets the last year, the reader, and how he felt about them. By the time he figures it all out, it might be too late. (aka amnesiac!steve, friends to lovers, and a sprinkle way more than a sprinkle of angst)

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: cursing 

-

NOW

Town clears out during the Thanksgiving holiday week, Hawkins citizens packing their cars full of suitcases and splitting off in every direction to spend the holidays with their families. With Keith two states over for the second half of the week, you and Robin take the store’s reins.

You manage to avoid Steve for four days, though it isn’t technically avoiding, considering he has no idea who you are. Still, you make Robin take the long way when she drives you to and from work so you don’t pass his house.

There are already too many memories of Steve Harrington stuffed into your brain; you don’t need another trigger to overload you with memories of a boy who doesn’t know you anymore.

The bell dings above the front door, signaling the entrance of a customer, but you don’t lift your head from the book spread open in front of you on the counter. If they need help, they can ask; for now, research on retrograde amnesia.

According to your research - research meaning skimming whatever medical books you could find at the library - there are a few types of amnesia, but it’s too soon to know for sure which Steve has. The best-case scenario: temporally graded retrograde amnesia, in which victims eventually regain their lost memories.

Worst case scenario: he never regains shit.

“Hey.” The familiar voice sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you nearly fall off the stool in your haste to slam the book shut and tuck it under the counter. You meet Steve’s gaze, his posture relaxed as he leans against the counter, wearing work vest over a faded tee. One of his arms is still in a sling, the elbow in a cast where it broke. Your bruised ribs whine painfully at the reminder.

There is no recognition in his eyes, none of the fondness or tenderness you used to see when you looked into those dark irises. Just…politeness. Reservation.

He has no clue who you are.

“What are you doing here?” Your words come out harsher than you intend, and Steve’s easy smile falters ever so slightly.

“Uh…working?”

“You’re not scheduled today. Or, at all.”

He straightens, one hand gripping the counter, and gives a dismissive half-shrug. Your heart twinges, and you lean back nonchalantly. 

“Keith told me to come in a few days this week. I think he wanted to fire me, but so long as he could slap my training….or retraining, I guess, on someone else.”

Not a chance.

“That someone would be Robin,” you say. “I’ll grab her.”

You head for the break room without another word, not waiting for Steve to reply, too desperate to get away him. It feels like someone’s piling bricks on your chest, air near impossible to find.

Robin looks up from the worn novel in her hands and sets down her Slurpee cup, concern weaving itself into her features at the sight of you in the doorway.

“What is it?” She asks. Your lips part and you step further into the room, letting the door swing shut behind you.

“Steve’s here,” you say.

“What?”

“Apparently, Keith didn’t want to train him again, so he’s sticking him on us.”

“Why is he even back at work? He got out of the hospital three days ago.” Robin’s mouth twitches into a frown, her brows knitted together.

“I didn’t exactly make conversation.”

“You bolted?”

“Totally, 100%, bolted.”

She crinkles her nose and sets the book aside, pushing to her feet.

“I’ve got it. I’ll just…tell him you’re doing inventory. Kick him out after an hour, and call it good.”

You give her a grateful smile.

“Thank you, Robin. I’m sorry. I know-”

She cuts you off with a hug, her face buried in your neck.

“Don’t,” she says, voice muffled. She pulls away to look at you, lips curled up in a sad smile. “You don’t have to explain.”

“Thank you,” you say again, for everything, and Robin nods like she understands.

“You’re gonna be okay,” she says, lingering in the doorway. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

“Even if he doesn’t get his memories back?”

She winces slightly, but the sad smile doesn’t falter.

“Even then.”

THEN

“Hey,” Steve mumbled, hanging off the car door as Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Max geared up. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

He was ignored, Lucas and Mike pushing past him, their faces wrapped in cloth, goggles tugged down over their eyes. Max wordlessly tossed you a bandana, which you tied around your neck.

“What are you deaf? Helloooo,” Steve protested. “We are not going down there right now, I made myself clear.”

Dustin dragged two gas containers in front of the car before returning to the trunk, where Steve had maneuvered to, leaning heavily against the metal exterior of Billy’s stolen vehicle. Max made her way to the other boys, the three of them lugging gas and rope toward the hole in the dirt.

“Hey, there is no chance we’re going in that hole.” He swatted the rope out of Dustin’s hand, losing his balance in the process.

“Steve. Steve,” Dustin said. “I get it. But the bottom line is, a party member requires assistance, and it is our duty to provide that assistance. Now, I know you promised Nance to keep us safe. So keep us safe.” He tugged a wooden bat studded with crude-looking nails out of the trunk, holding it out to Steve, who inhaled sharply through his nose, but took the bat.

He turned to you as Dustin headed for the hole, and frowned at the sight of the bandana around your neck and the hammer that Max had slapped into your hand at some point.

“You don’t have to go down there. It’s not too late to go home.”

“I think it is,” you said. “I’m in this now.”

He shook his head, raking a hand through his messy hair, wincing as he accidentally caught a tiny cut along his hairline. He was still reeling from so many blows to the head, and though he hated to admit it, more help wasn’t a bad thing.

“I made Nancy a promise, but you didn’t.”

You lifted your chin, eyes narrowing.

“Fine. I’ll make you a promise. I promise to help you keep them safe.”

“It’s not safe down there. This isn’t just homicidal Billy Hargrove.”

“Then, more manpower can’t hurt, can it?”

“You could get hurt.”

“You already did,” you said pointedly. Steve let out a sigh.

“I’m not getting rid of you, am I?”

Your lips quirked up in a grin that was certainly not appropriate for moments before hopping into a mysterious, monster-filled hole in the ground.

“Nope,” you said, popping the P. Steve exhaled and tightened his grip on the bat.

“God, I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he muttered.

“Famous last words,” you said, swinging the handle of your hammer around your fingers before gripping it tightly and heading for the kids and the hole.

Steve couldn’t help but smile, and follow you into the dark.

NOW

Steve squints at the binder on the counter, trying to force his brain into understanding the processes Robin lays out. Who to call about deliveries, what time shipments went in and out, what to do with advanced copies, etc., etc.

“I’m so gonna get fired,” Steve grumbles. He wishes both his hands were free so he could plop his face into them.

“Nah, you won’t,” Robin says, lips twitching into a grin. “You were pretty shitty at this job before you lost your memory. That’s why Keith and I handle the orders, and you and Y/N handle the stock room.” Her gaze flicks toward him at the mention of your name, like she’s looking for something in his face. He hasn’t the slightest idea what.

“Then why exactly are we doing this?”

Robin shrugs.

“It was worth a shot,” she says. “I’ll show you around the back room next time you come in, and you can just stick with that.”

Steve studies her face, searching for something he knows in her features. He doesn’t remember her, though he knows they’ve worked together at the video store for a month, and worked at the mall - which was constructed and destroyed within the year he lost - for three the previous summer.

He likes her, though. She’s easy to talk to and quick to laughter, and she doesn’t treat him like he’s sick or like he’s lost something. And he knows he’s lost memories of them, of their friendship, but she doesn’t hold it against him.

It’s a welcome reprieve from the constant flurry of his parents and doctors and neurologists, all of whom see him as a victim or a patient or anything but what he actually is.

“Does it weird you out?” He tilts his head, gesturing between them with his free hand and then at his head. 

Robin pauses, but shakes her head, nose crinkling.

“No,” she says. “I mean, just because you don’t remember me doesn’t mean I don’t still know who you are.”

“And if I never remember?”

She shrugs, like it’s no big deal, and he feels like one of the many pieces he’s been missing since he woke up in the hospital slides back into place; it’s like he missed her, and didn’t even realize it until now.

“If you never remember, it’ll be okay.” She smiles at him, and he wants to believe her; he almost does.

He gets the closest to hope he’s gotten in days; the closest he’s gotten since he can remember.

“We should lock up. I can let Y/N know, and I can show you how to lock the door,” Robin says.

“I’ll tell them,” Steve says. Robin’s features twist immediately, and she shakes her head.

“Don’t worry about it, I got it.”

He frowns, gaze darting toward the back hallway leading to the break and stock room. He hasn’t seen a trace of you since he came in before; part of him wonders if it was purposeful.

“Does Y/N…not like me, or something? Because, I’m getting real not a fan vibes.”

Robin’s lips part, and for a moment, it looks like she’s going to say something, but she decides against it, clamping her mouth shut and plastering a false smile on her lips.

“What? No. Y/N is just…” she trails off, brows furrowing. “Complicated.”

“Meaning, they don’t like me.”

Robin huffs in protest and folds her arms against her chest.

“God, you’re infuriating.”

“Hey, you had a free pass when I lost my memory. Not my fault you didn’t take it,” he reminds her, to which she sticks her tongue out at him like a child. Just as quickly, though, her features harden.

“Just…give Y/N some space, okay? They’re going through some stuff right now.”

Steve’s lips pull thin.

“I get it,” he says, and Robin gives him a grateful smile.

“Now, paws off the binder. You might fuck up one of the orders just by looking at it,” she says. Steve can’t help but grin.

As far as best friends go, he thinks Robin Buckley is as good as it gets.

THEN

You and Steve watched Dustin dart across the asphalt and up the stairs leading to the gym, it’s glass doors showing the dance inside. Steve’s gaze lingered on a blurry image of Nancy pouring punch, and you nudged his arm, drawing his attention away.

“Hey,” you said. “No moping.”

“I’m not moping,” he protested. You cocked a brow.

“You were moping a little bit.”

He made a face, hands settling on the steering wheel, tilting his head in your direction.

“You miss school dances? Shitty corsages, cheap decorations, and chalky punch. The dream,” he said, quickly changing the subject.

“Unfortunately, I never had the pleasure.”

He straightened, shifting to face you, brows arched.

“What?”

“I never went to a school dance. It wasn’t really my scene.”

“Not one? Like, ever?”

“Nope, not one.”

“You totally missed out.”

“You realize you described them as shitty and cheap, right?”

He grinned and said, “Oh, they are. They’re so bad that they’re kind of good.”

“Awkward slow dancing surrounded by all of your classmates? Hard pass.”

“That’s the best part!”

“I’m glad I missed it,” you said, turning up your nose. Steve’s eyes narrowed, and something unidentifiable but mischievous played on his features. He rolled the windows down and flipped the radio on, cranking up the volume on a Whitney Houston song. Your stomach churned, and you were already halfway into a protest by the time Steve climbed out of the car and came around to your side, popping open the door and holding out a hand.

“No,” you said, “no way.”

Steve wiggled his fingers and arched a brow, a smile tugging on his lips.

“Come on,” he said. “It’s a rite of passage.”

“It is not!”

“Maybe not,” he said, “but we’re doing it anyway.”

“Steve-”

He reached for your hand, and you reluctantly let him pull you up and out of the car. He positioned one of your hands on his shoulder and held onto the other, his free hand settling against your waist. He drew you closer, eyes bright, smile wide.

The music crackled over the car’s speakers, and the asphalt dance floor shone yellow beneath the school’s exterior lights. Steve led, and swayed back and forth, feeding you simple steps and pulling you around the small lot.

It was dancing at its worst, all stepping on toes and tripping on cracks in the asphalt and giggling as you regain your balance, but it was fun, so incredibly fun. It wasn’t awkward and uncertain, and Steve’s hands were steady, his confidence bleeding into you.

School dances may not have been your scene, but this - dancing around the parking lot beneath a ceiling of stars, music a little staticky, laughter making your stomach ache - surely was. You sent up a silent wish for more days like that, more moments like that, but most of all, more time at Steve Harrington’s side.

-

taglist: @daddystevee​ @elite4cekalyma​ 

[ladyherenya]

Books read in November

I wasn’t sure how many books I’d finish, given how much time I spent reading the news -- but upon reflection, reading the news has just cut into time spent on things like Tumblr rather than time spent reading books. 

Favourite cover: The Swan Riders.

Reread: From All False Doctrine by Alice Degan (again).

Also read: Circle of Friends by Susan Mallery.

Still reading: Between Silk and Cyanide by Leo Marks, Queen’s Play by Dorothy Dunnett, and The Kinship of Secrets by Eugenia Kim.

Next up: Or What You Will by Jo Walton, Return of the Thief by Megan Whalen Turner, and maybe I’ll finally get around to Miss Bunting by Angela Thirkell.

*

Angel Mage by Garth Nix (narrated by Kristin Atherton): The audiobook was well read and I really liked the four protagonists: the musketeer, the scholar, the clerk and the student doctor. Dorotea (the scholar) was my favourite; I love the way she baffles people when she doesn’t react the way they expect her to. I didn’t enjoy hearing about the antics of the antagonist, although the final analysis of her motives was unexpectedly satisfying, and I didn’t start to get interested in the system of angel magic until the story was nearly over.

The Deadly Hours anthology: I borrowed this for Susanna Kearsley’s novella Weapon of Choice, which is set in 1733 and features a couple of characters from A Desperate Fortune (along with a couple of couples from a couple of her other novels). This has a different sort of plot from her other stories -- there’s no newly developing romance, and no contemporary storyline -- but it was interesting to see Hugh’s marriage from his perspective. I glanced at the first pages of the other novellas and the only one which caught my attention was Siren’s Call by C.S. Harris, a murder mystery set during WWII.

The Switch by Beth O’Leary: After a panic attack at work, Lena is ordered to take a sabbatical. She suggests to her grandmother Eileen that they switch lives: for two months, Lena will look after Eileen’s house and community projects in Yorkshire, while Eileen will stay with Lena’s flatmates in London and try out internet dating. It’s interesting seeing the qualities Eileen and Lena share, and the variations within those. They’re very community-minded -- I enjoyed their cross-age friendships and willingness to reach out to their neighbours. Eileen in particular made me chuckle. And the story is predictable and tidy in ways which are quite appealing.

Starry Eyes by Jenn Bennett:  Zorie likes planning and star-gazing. Camping’s outside her comfort zone but she hopes a trip with a school friend will be a chance to socialise more and escape tensions at home. But she’s left to hike home alone with her ex. I liked how the trip pushes Zorie and Lennon to resolve hurt feelings and misunderstandings, but the most compelling part of this story was seeing Zorie fall in love with hiking! Bennett vividly captures the challenges and the rewards of hiking through mountains in California. And I liked the close relationship Zorie has with her stepmother.

Rent a Boyfriend by Gloria Chao:  Faced with pressure to marry a family friend, nineteen year old Chloe hires a boyfriend for Thanksgiving. This example of fake dating requires more deception than some. It’s kind of stressful! But the story’s also a thoughtful, and ultimately positive, exploration of Chloe’s experience being the child of Chinese immigrants. Communication is complicated by her parents’ cultural expectations and because of how Chloe’s values and perspective differs from theirs. But bringing someone home -- who gets a front-row seat to the family’s dynamic -- turns out to be helpful. So, not quite the fake dating story I expected, but really interesting nevertheless.

The Swan Riders by Erin Bow:  This sequel to The Scorpion Rules is stressful and sharp (I expected as much, which is probably why I waited over a year before reading it). In the beginning, the situation is deteriorating and seems impossibly bleak. Yet the story works its way towards solutions which are unexpected, believable and hopeful. This is a thoughtful exploration of artificial intelligence and of being human. I was glad I read it, but, like the first book, I don’t really feel compelled to spend a lot of words reviewing it.

Hamster Princess: Little Red Rodent Hood by Urusla Vernon (aka T. Kingfisher):  This concludes Harriet’s story on a satisfying note but the preceding adventure didn’t appeal to me as much as the other books did. I suspect it just wasn’t written for me -- not the person I am now, nor the little girl I used to be. (The dedication reads: For all the little girls who grew up wanting to be werewolves.)

Empire of Sand by Tasha Suri: A noblewoman’s right to choose her own husband is considered sacred, but when Mehr is introduced to an unexpected suitor, she knows there will be consequences for her family if she refuses. I was immediately hooked. This is a story about power and magic and empire, yet its focus is personal, rather than epic -- Mehr, her identity and her relationships. I love how Mehr and Amun's relationship is built on choosing to be kind to each other in a situation in which they have few choices. I also liked how the story explores the choices people make to protect loved ones.

The Foyles Bookshop Girls by Elaine Roberts (narrated by Louise Amos): In the summer of 1914, Alice and her two closest friends are working at Foyles Bookshop. As a story of friendship and family during WWI, this sounds exactly my sort of thing, yet if an audiobook I was waiting for had become available sooner, I would have easily abandoned this. I wanted more details about working at Foyles, and more details about the job Alice gets driving ambulances, and stronger dialogue. These characters were all just a bit too good at saying what they really thought and felt. Most people aren’t that direct, articulate and self-aware all the time.

Virgin River by Robyn Carr:  I was interested to note the points of similarity and of difference with the Netflix adaptation, and interested in Mel’s experiences as a nurse/midwife in a rural community. I also liked that there’s a sense of time passing and that the main characters are comfortable letting the romance unfold slowly. But it’s written in a style which doesn’t quite appeal to me. I found something unsatisfying about times when Carr doesn’t show what Mel is feeling. By the end, some of the characters’ attitudes were beginning to irritate me, too.