#happy thanksgiving to any other canadians out there

[grey-rambles]

It’s Canadian Thanksgiving today and I’m just a lil bit tipsy at my mom’s house, so here are some people that I’m thankful for here because I’m feeling sappy

This list is in no way 100% inclusive, I’m just rambling lol

First, Lyss ( @lyssys ), for being one of my very first mutuals, and always reblogs my work with such nice comments. I’m always in awe that such a talented writer follows me, of all people, and I always take so much joy in her work

 Flore( @harbingerofheartbreak) always “yes, ands” me and listens to my often incoherent ramblings in the DMs, which I appreciate so much more than she will ever know, and she never, ever fails to make me smile with her kind words and encouragement

CARRIE ( @pebblebrainlovejoy ) the nicest person in all of this sphere!!!!! Thank you for agreeing to proofread and offer feedback on my Techno writing, even though you aren’t super comfortable with the character. You consistently treat everyone with so much kindness and grace and I love you

Finally, though she will likely never read this, thank you to Kay ( @dreamwvrld ), without whom I would never have started writing in this space, and thus would never have met any of the amazing people I am now blessed enough to call friends. I miss you very much Kay, and I hope that you’re well, wherever it is you may be

Thank you also to each and every one of you who follow me in any capacity, and to all my other mutuals that I didn’t mention specifically here. I adore each and every one of you <3

[spine-buster]

To Sail Beyond the Sunset ft. Sidney Crosby | Chapter 1

gif credit @/sidnyscrosbygifs

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to all my Canadian followers❤️ I can't wait to get this baby rolling! This fic is definitely going to be the much "softer" fic compared to 'That Which We Are, We Are', so be prepared for all the feels! TW: mentions of unrealistic/unhealthy body expectations, controlling food consumption

Sidney didn’t have to be Sidney Crosby around June, and that’s what he loved most of all. Because they had known each other since they were kids, before they could even write their own names, June knew Sidney and Sidney knew June in a way that nobody else did – not even their parents. There was no pretentiousness with them; no airs or graces that they had to put on in front of one another. When they were together, they could just be what they were – best friends.

Sid scarfed down four grilled cheese sandwiches the night before at June’s apartment before reluctantly stopping. June had tried to entice him with a hot chocolate, but he knew if he drank one at that point, he’d probably get sick. His stomach wasn’t the stomach of a 14-year-old boy anymore, made of steel and made to withstand any weird food combination. Despite the four grilled cheeses, the fatigue of the day caught up to him quickly afterwards, and so he and June retired to bed, sleeping at opposite ends of her bed.

They now found their way back up to his house on Shubenacadie Grand Lake with a bag of groceries to make brunch. June, along with his parents, looked after his place while he was in Pittsburgh, so it was basically her second home. Well, it was as much her home as it was Sidney’s, in his eyes, since she spent so much time there. She even helped him pick out the kitchen finishings, since he had “zero taste” according to her. At the end of the day, what she ended up choosing for him may not have been his first choice, but it didn’t matter, because it meant that every time he was in his kitchen, he thought about June. It was all he could have asked for, really.

When Sid parked his car in his driveway, June got out and took a deep breath to smell the fresh, crisp lake air. When she opened her eyes, she knew that Sidney was already looking over at her, smiling. “Nothing like it, eh?” he asked.

“Nothing like it,” she repeated. “I thank God every day you built this house on this lake.”

Sidney knew she felt that way – she repeated similar sentiments every summer when he came back home. But because he hadn’t seen her so long – longer than usual, at least – he felt like teasing her. Just a little bit. “Even better than that apartment you had in Toronto with the view of the CN Tower?”

June shot him a look. “Don’t start,” she tried to be serious but couldn’t stop the smirk growing on her face. The only reason why she was smiling was because the “view of the CN Tower” was quite literally a reflection of the CN Tower on the glass of the neighbouring skyscraper. It had been her first ‘big girl’ apartment in the city and, even if she lived in it only for a year, it was hers and only hers. “I loved that place. You did too! The one time you visited.”

“Sorry. I was kind of busy playing hockey.”

“You don’t say,” she rolled her eyes. “When are you not?”

Sid stuck his tongue out at her. “Come on. Let’s go.”

June was an expert finding her way around Sid’s kitchen. She unpacked the groceries and got out the required pots and pans needed before beginning to cook. Sidney took out two plates, some cutlery, and glasses before setting them on the counter near June’s work station and starting up the coffee machine. He watched as she prepared the toast, fried the bacon, and poached the eggs. He took it upon himself to slice the avocados. It was all very…domestic. Very them. They’d done this at the beginning of every summer after he started in the NHL, win or lose, and this year was no different. There was something so methodical, but also pleasant, about their routines. Being familiar and having a routine wasn’t a bad thing, Sidney thought, especially since it brought such a calming effect to him.

When breakfast was ready, June grabbed her plate. “We’re eating in the gym,” Sidney said suddenly.

“The g…oh Sid,” June mused, knowing exactly why he wanted to go eat in his gym. “Sid, come on. Let’s eat at the table.”

“Gym, please.”

June couldn’t say no to him. Usually, this request happened a bit later – at least a week or two after he got home, not the day after. Regardless, she digressed, and followed him through the house until they arrived at the aforementioned gym – the place Sidney could really think. Think about his life. Think about his future. Think about his career. He would put up pictures of the captain of the Stanley Cup winning team as motivation for him to get back to that place – the place he so desperately wanted to get back to at least one more time.

They created a makeshift table and chairs using most of the box jumps in the gym. Sidney let June get a couple of bites in – toast topped with sliced avocado, poached eggs, and sriracha sauce for her; toast topped with sliced avocado, bacon, and poached eggs for him – before he began to let everything out. “I hate how this season ended,” he said, taking the third forkful of his own breakfast.

“Why?”

Sidney rolled his eyes. “Because it was the New York fucking Islanders,” he grimaced. He sounded pained when he said their name; June understood. They weren’t exactly very high on her NHL-teams-she-knew-about-besides-the-Penguins-that-she-didn’t-mind list. “We can beat them. We have beat them. And we should have beaten them in the series. I just don’t know where we went wrong – where I went wrong. Why I couldn’t do it, you know? I just…I just couldn’t do it this time around.”

Sidney hated to lose – June knew that. He was the most competitive athlete she knew, besides maybe his friend Nathan, who used to absolutely fucking lose it whenever he lost in certain things (Sidney told her he started going to therapy for that, which she was happy to hear). “You can’t put it all on your shoulders…you know that. I’ve told you that for years. You can’t win all the time, Sid. It’s not just up to you and only you. Hockey is a team effort. It’s not all on your shoulders and it never has been. I’m sure Kris and Geno tell you that all the time, too.”

“Yeah, well…” he didn’t want to accept what he needed to accept.

June could read the look in his eye. She could read him like a book, really, so she knew exactly what was going through his mind when he said those words, in that tone, with that face. “You want to win one more, don’t you?” she asked.

He looked at her. “Of course I do.”

“Because you still have it in you.”

“Because I still have it in me.”

“Because the three Stanley Cups championships, two Art Ross trophies, two Harts, three Ted Lindsays—”

“—Junebug—”

“—Hold on, I’m not done – two Rocket Richards, and two Conn Smythes just aren’t enough for you?” she giggled.

It caused Sid to laugh too. “You know what I mean, Junebug.”

She smiled wryly after she stuffed some avocado in her mouth. “I bet it’s because you want to win another Emmy.”

“Oh, Junebug!” he grimaced, laughing but covering his face with his hands out of complete embarrassment. “Stop bringing up the Emmy!”

“No. Shan’t,” she shook her head playfully. “But in all seriousness Sid, I do know what you mean. I—listen, I know you have it in you. I know you do. You play the game unlike anyone before you or after you. If you think you’ve got another one in you, then I think you’ve got another one in you, too. I believe in you even more than you believe in yourself.”

I believe in you even more than you believe in yourself. They were words that had been said to each other throughout their 30-year friendship; words repeated at almost every stage of life and career. I believe in you even more than you believe in yourself. They were words that ignited a fire in the other; words that reminded the other of not only just everything they’d been through, but everything they were yet to accomplish. And because they knew each other in a way that nobody else did, it really was the ultimate show of confidence in the other. Not that they ever doubted the other. “Thank you, Junebug.”

“Any time, Sid. I know you’d do and say the same thing to me if I was still dancing.”

Sidney nodded his head. He would. He remembered back to when she was dancing – as one of the principal dancers at the National Ballet of Canada – and he’d say it to her all the time. Whenever a new season was upon her and they’d have their classic three-hour long phone calls to one another; when she had to learn a new ballet and new character that tested her physical and acting abilities. I believe in you even more than you believe in yourself. If she was able to list all the awards he’d won in his NHL career as easily as she did earlier, he would be able to recite, verbatim, all the praise she’d gotten in her career as a ballerina. A book could be published with every glowing thing that was said about her. Both of them didn’t get to where they were – or, at least, where they had been – by accident. “How’s your mom?” he asked.

June shrugged. “She’s fine, I guess.”

“You haven’t seen her? Or visited?”

“No.”

“Is she still with Dominic?”

“Of course,” June replied. “They’d never divorce. Well – at least – she’d never divorce him. I don’t think he’d ever divorce her either – it’d be too much of a hassle. Too much money involved.”

Sidney remembered being told about Miss Hockley moving to Newfoundland when he and June were sixteen years old. It had happened while they were both away. Sidney had heard from his mom. It came as a shock to June – the move, at least, not the marriage. Miss Hockley had married a pretty successful businessman from Newfoundland named Dominic Carson and moved to a beautiful house just outside of St. John’s. Her move meant that June had to spend her last summer in Halifax – before moving to Toronto full-time – sleeping on a cot in Taylor’s room since she refused to spend the summer in Newfoundland.

Sidney had distinct memories of Miss Hockley growing up. She was…a different kind of mother, to say the least. She was so unlike Trina that sometimes a young Sidney would wonder how Miss Hockley was even a mom. She treated June so differently than how Trina treated him or Taylor. Even as a kid, Sid knew there were different kinds of moms and dads, but Miss Hockley was the most different.

1994.

Sidney usually watched Saturday morning cartoons at his own house, on his own couch, with his own special cup with milk. But dad was working this weekend, and mom was working at the grocery store, which meant that Sidney had to watch Saturday morning cartoons with June and Miss Hockley in the basement where they lived. While he was comfy on the couch beside June, it still wasn’t his house. It still wasn’t his couch. It still wasn’t his own special cup. Sidney found it odd that he was allowed to have blueberry pancakes and a hardboiled egg for breakfast but June could only have carrots.

When he asked Miss Hockley why June was eating carrots, Miss Hockey’s voice was firm. “It’s for ballet, Sidney.”

“Can she have some blueberry pancakes like me?”

“No, she can’t.”

June never told him she was allergic to blueberries. Or pancakes for that matter. In fact, he distinctly remembered June eating a bowl of blueberries at his house and getting them all over her mouth and fingers. Sidney’s face scrunched up, confused by it all. If she wasn’t allergic, why couldn’t she have any? “Can I give her some of my—”

“No, Sidney,” Miss Hockley was adamant, her voice even more stern than before. “June doesn’t get any blueberry pancakes.”

“But why n—”

“—June doesn’t get blueberry pancakes because of ballet,” Miss Hockley tried to explain. “She’s not going to become big and strong like you and play hockey. Ballet isn’t the same as hockey. If June wants to be beautiful, June has to eat carrots for breakfast and not pancakes.”

June wasn’t saying anything, didn’t say anything until Miss Hockley asked if they were all settled and told them she was going to go do her hair in the bathroom. Once the door closed and June heard the hairdryer turn on, she looked at Sidney. “Mommy wants me to be nice and skinny. I mean—when I become a ballet dancer, I have to be nice and skinny. I can’t be big and bulky,” she said. “That’s why I have to eat carrots.”

Sidney felt bad that June had to eat only carrots. Trina would make him oatmeal with dinosaur eggs in it, toast with peanut butter, and sometimes even bacon. He wondered what her other breakfasts were like if, on Saturdays, she could only have carrots. Those other breakfasts must have been so boring, too. “Do you want to have a bite?”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure? I won’t tell your mom.”

Sidney watched as June thought about the proposal. They did look good. And her mom would never know. Before she knew it, she was nodding her head. Sidney picked up one of his pancakes by hand and held it out to her. He watched as she took a small bite. Almost immediately, he watched as a large smile appeared on her face. “Mmmmm, that’s good!” she exclaimed.

“My mom can make you blueberry pancakes if you come over for breakfast at my house,” Sidney assured her. “And I’m sure she’ll keep the secret from your mom, too.”

“She doesn’t ask you to, like, go and see her or anything?” Sidney asked. “My parents are already asking if I can go over for dinner tonight.”

June shook her head. “You know how my mom is,” she said, her voice ever so slightly on edge. “She’s…she’s not like Trina. Never has been, never will be. I came to terms with that a long time ago.”

Sidney understood. The last way he – or anybody – would describe Miss Hockley was ‘just like Trina Crosby’. “I’m sorry to bring it up, Junebug.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Sid. I know you ask with the best intentions. It’s just never going to be normal between her and I, so I have to make sure I visit only when it’s absolutely necessary.”

Sidney nodded. Nothing was normal between June and her mom, that was for sure. He always felt bad that their relationship was the way it was. “Well, regardless, want to come to my parents’ for dinner tonight?”

A soft smile appeared on June’s face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Early the same evening, Sidney and June drove back into Halifax and straight into the driveway of the now-famous house in Cole Harbour. To both Sidney and June, the house was home. June didn’t think she knew of a warmer place than the Crosby house, and it was all because of the people who lived in it. She’d never loved a place more – not the basement apartment where she grew up, not any apartment in Toronto that she lived in, not even the apartment she was in now, and she loved her apartment. There was just something so special and so familiar about the Crosby’s house that affected her in ways she couldn’t describe.

The second June walked through the door, just a step behind Sidney who’d joked “Look what the cat dragged in�� to Trina, June was engulfed in a hug. Typical of the Crosby household. “How have you been, June?” Trina asked as she rubbed June’s back.

“Good. Busy. You know how busy this time of year can get for me,” June replied with a smile.

“Of course. How could I forget? Auditions, right?”

“Yup.”

“Sid, your dad’s out back on the barbeque,” Trina said quickly before focusing her attention back on June. “I’m guessing you two were at the house this morning.”

“Where else would we be?” Sidney countered playfully as he walked by his mom and his best friend. “Where’s Taylor?”

“Showering,” Trina said quickly, refocusing on June once again. “Any standouts this year? Any dancers as good as you?”

June couldn’t help but blush. “Stop buttering me up, Trina.”

“I’ll butter you up all I want, kiddo. There was nobody as good as you.”

Conversation flowed naturally between Trina and June, and when Taylor came downstairs, wet hair twisted into a bun, she added to the conversation seamlessly, asking about the auditions and scholarships and process of it all. When Sidney and Troy came back in with the grilled meat and vegetables on their platters, June and Taylor quickly set the table. Everybody sat at their spots. They passed around the food. The simplicity of it all, the naturalness (because they’d done this thousands of times), the fact that nobody bat an eyelash – it was what June loved most.

June didn’t have to be Juniper Brooks around the Crosbys, and that’s what she loved most of all. There was no pretentiousness with them; no airs or graces that they had to put on. In a career where she dressed up in characters, took on personas, and performed as somebody else for hours on end, June loved how she could be herself.

Sidney looked at June beside him, smiling at something Taylor had said. Her smile made him smile.

[trashyswitch]

Day 9: Lie

Despite having a doctor in the house, Jackie goes to Jameson's room to get some tender loving care from his non-verbal friend. Jameson happily provides that, and a little more.

Happy Thanksgiving weekend to all the Canadians! And I believe today is Columbus day/Indigenous People's Day for Americans too. There's two independence days as well, and overall...24 holidays today! I had no clue. either way, I hope you all enjoy!

Jackie walked up to the door and knocked gently. When the person came to the door and opened it, Jackie looked up to the person at the door. 

‘Hello Jackie.’ the person signed. Jackie smiled and lowered his right arm. “Hi Jay. May I come in?” Jackie asked. 

Jamie nodded his head and opened the door for him. Jackie walked in, and sat on the chair at the side of his room. ‘What’s wrong?’ He asked. 

Jackie sighed and bit his lip, before removing the unzipping his onesie and pulling his arm out. “There’s a reason I wear red.” Jackie explained. “I wear it to cover up any blood that leaves my wounds.” He unrolled his sleeve to show Jamie his arm. “I…” 

Jamie widened his eyes and covered his mouth. Jamie pulled up a chair and checked the slice wound on his arm. ‘Does it hurt?’ Jamie asked. 

Jackie chuckled. “Yeah…but it’s nothing I can’t handle!” Jackie declared, smiling with a thumbs up. 

Jamie hummed silently and stared at the man for a moment before going back to checking the wound. He conjured up a mask and gloves, before putting both on, followed by a pair of glasses. He took a better look at the cut and looked at Jackie. ‘Hurt?’ Jamie asked. 

“Nope.” Jackie replied. 

Jamie opened the wound slightly with his fingers. Then he looked at Jackie and raised his eyebrows in an attempt to ask. 

“I’m fine.” Jackie replied despite some visible strain in his voice. 

Jamie looked at Jackie with suspicion. Jamie then conjured up a bowl and a pitcher of cool water, before dumping bits of the water onto the cut at a time to clean it out. This made any loose bits of blood and dirt fall out of the wound and into the bowl. Jamie looked up and raised his eyebrows again, asking once again for an update on the pain. 

“mm- fine.” Jackie muttered. It seemed like Jackie was determined to keep his pain and anguish a secret from Jamie at any cost. 

Jamie looked at Jackie with eyes partly closed, clearly unamused and annoyed. He didn’t want Jackie to suck it up for him. So, Jamie shoved his finger into the wound and raised his eyebrows slightly more dramatically. 

Jackie yelped and pulled his arm back, grabbing it with his other hand. “OW! DUDE!” Jackie yelled. 

‘Did that hurt?’ Jamie signed, showing slight frustration on his face, as well as in his ASL.

“YES! What do YOU fuckin’ think?!” Jackie yelled. 

Jamie looked him straight in the eye. ‘Thank you for telling me the truth.’ he replied. 

Jackie stared at him and blinked, taken aback. “........I’m sorry, what?” Jackie asked. 

Jamie put the bowl down and picked up a piece of gauze from the bed. Ripping open the gauze, he reached out and took Jackie’s hand. He stayed silent while he did so, due to his hands —his only form of communication— being occupied. 

Jackie was left confused, but strangely let Jamie work at his arm again. But…why he let Jamie work at his arm again despite Jamie’s malice towards him…he couldn’t be sure. Maybe because he was desperate? Or maybe it was because he knew Jamie was proving a point, and wouldn’t do it again. 

After Jamie was done, he put the gauze down and let go so he could sign. ‘You are not being truthful about how you feel.’ Jamie told him.

Jackie blinked. “That…that’s because I feel fine, despite the cut.” Jackie replied. 

Jamie let out a long sigh, and shook his head. ‘No you don’t.’ Jamie said as he conjured up a roll of gauze. 

“But-…but I do!” Jackie repeated. 

Jamie cleared his throat loudly and started to wrap the gauze around the wound. Again, Jamie stayed silent through the wrapping process due to both his hands being too occupied to sign anything. This left Jackie in an uncomfortable state of silent agony. But Jackie didn’t need Jamie to tell him anything…because Jamie’s face said it all. 

Disappointment.

Jamie tied the gauze ends together and put his hands down. ‘Done lying?’ Jamie asked. 

Jackie widened his eyes and blinked. Gosh…it’s scary knowing how much Jamie could see through him. The man was not only naturally talented at conveying nonverbal gestures, but also at observing other people’s non-verbal gestures. It fascinated Jackie to no end. 

He finally let go. “Okay, fine…” Jackie sighed and put his arm down. “I’m not okay. I can’t stop thinking about the robbery victim.” Jackie told him as he put on his onesie sleeve again. “The victim’s in the hospital with life-threatening injuries.” Jackie told him. “And the perpetrator got away. He was the one who…” Jackie looked down at his arm and sighed. 

Jamie nodded and adjusted himself in his seat. ‘Why go to me?’ Jamie pointed to the arm. ‘Henrik is a doctor.’ Jamie made the D sign and touched the left inner wrist to make the sign. 

“Doctor?” Jackie clarified. 

Jamie nodded with a smile. ‘Why me? Why not go to the doctor?’ Jamie asked, repeating the sign. 

Jackie bit his lip. “Henrik is very against what I do.” Jackie admitted. “He doesn’t say it out loud, but he doesn’t need to in order to make his opinion known.” he explained. 

Jamie smirked. ‘What does he tell you?’ Jamie asked. 

Jackie sighed. “He warns me about overdoing it and getting injured too often.” Jackie admitted. 

Jamie smiled a bit more. ‘I warn you too.’ Jamie mentioned. 

Jackie grunted. “But you do it with a lot more patience.” Jackie complained with a laugh. 

Jamie chuckled and showed his teeth in his smile, shrugging his shoulders and signing the word ‘true’ back to him. 

“You also know how to cheer me up.” Jackie admitted. “Even when I don’t want to be.” Jackie added with a laugh. Jamie smirked and looked to the upper right, wiggling his mustache playfully. This alone was enough to make Jackie laugh. “Yeah! Like that! We have the same visual humor.” Jackie admitted. Jamie smiled brightly and cleared his throat, getting up. He conjured up a doctor coat and scrubs, put on a medical mask, and wrapped a stethoscope around his neck. Then, he put on a name tag that said [Cheer Up Doctor]. Jackie smiled brightly. “Ooohoho, nice get up! Still not a doctor though…” Jackie teased. 

Jamie rolled his eyes as he pulled out the stethoscope and waved the end of it. ‘Check heart?’ Was roughly what Jamie was asking. 

“Sure!” Jackie replied. 

Jamie placed the stethoscope onto his chest and listened to his heart. Jamie looked super focused on his heart, almost like he WAS able to hear his heart. Jamie soon lowered the stethoscope and removed the earpieces from his ears. ‘Small bit low. Signs of sadness.’ Jamie told him. 

Jackie chuckled. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.” Jackie teased. 

Jamie gave him an unimpressed face before pulling out a thermometer. He waved the thermometer, as if saying ‘check temperature?’ To him. When Jackie gave him the permission, he placed the thermometer in his mouth, under his tongue. A few seconds later, the thermometer beeped and Jamie removed it. He sighed with a smile and showed Jackie the thermometer screen: [Sadder than Eeyore] 

Jackie read it and laughed, loving the little reference. 

Jamie pulled out a clipboard from his doctor coat and conjured up a pen. He started vigorously writing, before removing the paper and giving it to Jackie. 

Jackie read the paper. 

[Treatment: 10 minutes of tickles] 

Jackie widened his eyes and looked up at Jamie. “...Really?” He asked. 

Jamie tapped the paper. ‘Wanna be treated here? Or at home?’ Jamie asked. 

Jackie could feel his face heating up slightly. “Uhhhh…” He chuckled awkwardly and adjusted himself in his seat. “Here? I guess?” Jackie replied, giving Jamie permission to tickle him.

Jamie nodded and offered a hand. ‘Paper please.’ Jamie signed. Jackie laughed and handed him the paper. Jamie took the paper and adjusted his glasses to read it, nodding like a good doctor would, pretending like he had not just written the ‘prescription’. Then, he turned away, put the paper into his pocket, before turning to face Jackie again and sprinting up to him. 

“ooOHGOD-!” Jackie yelped as he was playfully tackled to the bed and tickled mercilessly on his armpits. “eeEEK! WAIT-HAHAHA! Eeek! Noho! NAHAHAHA! You ahahahaHAHAHASS!” Jackie yelled. 

Jamie smiled brightly and winked, before lifting up Jackie’s right arm and signing the word ‘cute’ to him…only for him to resume his tickle attack on just the right armpit. 

Jackie threw his head back and shook his head as his laughing fits filled the room with gleeful noise. “HAHAHAhahaha- Cohohome ohon! Hahaha! Hehehehe- Whyhyhy tihickles?!” Jackie asked. 

Jamie let go of his arm and signed the word ‘fun’ to Jackie. 

“Fun?!” Jackie reacted. 

‘Strong man is ticklish’ Jamie signed next before moving his hands to his ribs. ‘Your laugh is funny’ He signed right before gripping his ribs. 

“Is this really the only treatMENT OPTIOHOHON?! BAAAHAHAHAHA- Hahahaha! This ihihis ridihihiculous! NahaHAHA!” Jackie argued. 

Jamie only squeezed his ribs in response, earning him another fit of hysterical laughter. 

Jamie wiggled his fingers evilly in his face, and moved them around to figure out where to touch down. 

“Oh no, oh no, Jahamie dohon’t you dahahare!” Jackie pleaded. 

Jamie smiled and made his hands into fists facing down. Slowly, he began to count his fingers one by one. 

‘1…2…’ Jamie had both index fingers stretched out. And Jackie was giggling helplessly as he watched Jamie’s fingers anxiously. 

‘3…4…’ Jamie had both middle fingers out now, joining the index fingers in the fight to tickle. And Jackie could only close his eyes and shake his head as giggles left his lungs. 

‘5…6…’ Jamie’s thumbs were now outstretched for poor, vulnerable Jackie to watch and fear as his mind filled with teasy daydreams and phantom tickles.

‘7…8…’ Jamie’s ring fingers were now outstretched, further tormenting Jackie with their look alone. This made Jackie tense up and shake with an anxious, wobbly smile filling his face. 

‘9…10!” The moment both of Hamie’s pinkies were stretched out, the dapper boy let his wiggly fingers touch down. With no moment to lose, he skittered and scraped Jackie’s ribs as gently and as teasily as he possibly could. 

“eeeEEEEEEHEHEEEEK! Heeheeheehee- HAHAHAhahaha! Ihihihihi cahahan’t! Ihihi cahahan’t dohohoho ihit!” Jackie yelled at him. 

Jamie took pity on him and stopped his fingers. For now, anyway. But when Jamie started visibly scanning the man, Jackie immediately began to sense that something else was afoot. “…what?” Jackie asked. 

Jamie looked up at Jackie. ‘One more?’ Jamie asked.

Jackie groaned slightly at this. 

But Jamie was considerate beyond the insistence. ‘Finale! I’ll stop after! Promise!’ Jamie signed. 

Jackie could only look at Jamie’s puppy dog eyes for a few seconds…before he ultimately gave up the cause. “Fiiine.” He replied.

Jamie smiled brightly for a few moments before removing the medical mask from his face, Then, Jamie took in a quick deep breath, and lowered himself down! 

PPFFBBBFFFBBBBFFT! 

Aaaand out came any ounce of leftover sadness left inside of Jackie. 

[canadaimmigration1]

Canada Ranks Among the Top 10 Countries for Work-Life Balance

A study released by Remote HR, a global Human Resources firm, has found that Canada ranks among the top ten countries globally for work-life (or, as the study calls it, life-work) balance.

Canada placed fifth overall while New Zealand, Ireland, Belgium, and Demark took the top four spots.

The data includes rankings for several factors that influence an employee’s work-life balance. These include statutory annual leave, sick pay percentage, hours worked per week, minimum wage, and an overall happiness index.

Discover if You Are Eligible for Canadian Immigration

Canada achieved an overall score of 72.75 out of a possible 100. It scored high for its relatively short work week (an average of 32 hours for most Canadians), safety, and for being 2SLGBTQ+ friendly.

Germany, Finland, Australia, Norway, and Spain rounded out the top ten. Canada’s closest neighbor, the United States, ranked 55 out of 60 in the Remote rankings with a score of 31.82 due to no annual paid vacation or sick leave, non-universal healthcare, and more hours worked per week.

The data on average working hours in Canada reported by Remote is supported by the most recent Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) work-life balance rankings where Canada again placed fifth overall. OECD said that “just 3% of employees work very long hours in paid work, much less than the OECD average of 10%.”

OECD noted that full-time workers in Canada use 61% of their day (14.6 hours) for personal care. This includes eating and sleeping as well as leisure activities. This is just slightly less than the global average of 15 hours.

Canada is short on vacation time

The Remote report showed that Canada fell short in annual statutory leave and vacation time. The data said that people employed in Canada receive 17 days of annual statutory leave. However, this is not always easy to measure as employment standards in Canada are mandated by provincial governments. For example, in Ontario, Canada’s most populous province, workers in the private sector (meaning those not employed by the federal government or in a federally regulated industry) can spend the first five years in any job with just 10 days (two weeks) of vacation time per year. According to the Ontario Employment Standards Act, minimum vacation entitlement increases to three weeks (15 days) after five years.

Again, this timeline can vary by province. Employees in Saskatchewan are entitled to three weeks of paid vacation after one year of employment, going up to four weeks after ten years. Quebec’s annual vacation entitlement rises from two weeks to three weeks after three years of employment.

This does not account for Canada’s federal statutory holidays such as Christmas Day, Canada Day, Labour Day, Thanksgiving, Good Friday, and Victoria Day. There are also other public holidays but, in many instances and depending on the province, employees are not automatically entitled to take those days off. It often depends on their employer.

Comparatively, in both New Zealand and Ireland, all employees are entitled to four weeks of paid annual vacation after 12 months of continuous employment.

Consistently high rankings

Canada typically ranks high in global lists. For example, in January this year it was voted the world’s safest country for travelers by Berkshire Hathaway Travel Protection (BHTP) and a study by Givetastic in late 2023 found that Canada is the world’s top “dream work destination.” Canada also has the world’s seventh strongest passport according to the most recent rankings by residence and citizenship advisory firm Henley and Partners.

These rankings add to Canada's appeal as one of the most sought-after destinations for newcomers. In 2023, it welcomed over 470,000 new permanent residents, and the Immigration Levels Plan for 2024 targets admitting a further 485,000. While Canada’s immigration minister, Marc Miller, has recently indicated that immigration levels in the near future may look different, he also recognized the economic and social benefits of welcoming newcomers sustainably. AAR Overseas Meet Us3A-156, Ground Floor, Near DAV College, K.L. Mehta Road, Faridabad - 121001, INDIA

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[honey-baby-blossom]

Hi Hello, I am not dead (yet), just taking a very long nap. I lost all of my time to starting college and I got a boyfriend and so like writing about other boys felt kind of weird for a minute, but after reading The Love Hypothesis and Love on the Brain by Ali Hazelwood, I am born anew! I also watched the breakfast club a few times and rewatched The Batman (2022, obviously). I feel terrible for my sudden leaving and I promise to be back with a vengeance!!!

Now, onto the stuff people care about:

Peachy! part three will be published on December 1st, 2022

Nocturnal Animals will continue with edits to existing parts and a new chapter coming December 10th, 2022

Currently, my Matt Murdock fic stays where it stands, however! if anyone was invested in it, feel free to reach out and I’ll tell you how it ends.

Additional WIPs:

-The Breakfast Club but Stranger Things, Eddie Munson x reader (one-shot, but long as hell)

Finally, I want to mention @luveline - June Baby has transformed me and made me want to be better. The best thing any writer can do is read and I’ve been lucky enough to use your works to fuel mine. Love you bunches!

I’ll see you all soon enough, Happy Thanksgiving to my US and Canadian folks, happy fall to the rest!

-Auria <3

[wrathfulrook]

Far Cry 5 True Facts

Mammals

American Black Bear: Unlike the Canadian Black Bear, these ones are loud, entitled, and don’t apologize after killing you.

Bison: A baby bison is called a “red dog” because the people who name things lack basic education. Also, humans slaughtered 50 million of them. 50 MILLION!

Caribou: Reindeer and caribou are the same animal, only reindeer put on airs because they’re European.

Cougar: Cougars have similar body types to house cats, only on a larger scale. Both types of cats are also giant assholes.

Elk: Elk are vegetarian, but are known to eat meat such as nestlings or bird eggs on rare occasions. Which makes them the animal equivalent of your old college roommate.

Grey Wolf: Wolves develop close relationships and strong social bonds. They are also known to hit the clubs after getting their pump on.

Grizzly Bear: These omnivores are known to eat berries, fish, and, according to the Secretary of Education, children.

Hare: Hares are adamant that they’ve never lost a race and warn everyone against believing FAKE NEWS from the Mainstream Tortoise Media.

Moose: Moose are incredibly near-sighted, but are too cheap to pay for laser eye surgery.

Pronghorn: Pronghorns are the second fastest mammal, behind the cheetah, but cheetahs are almost extinct so the Pronghorns are happy to wait it out.

Rat: A Rat can survive for up to years in the wild, but only about two days in the mob.

Skunk: Skunks will only spray when threatened, as they live life under the principle “don’t start none. won’t be none.”

White Tailed Deer: Like a human, an adult Deer has thirty-two teeth. Unlike a human, it will floss after every meal without fail.

Wild Boar: Wild Boar are like pigs, only they party harder.

Wolverine: They’re the best at what they do, and what they do is secrete a foul smelling yellow liquid from their anal scent glands.

Birds

Bald Eagle: You probably think Bald Eagles are bold, majestic hunters, but they actually eat trash and steal food from other birds. USA! USA! USA!

Duck: Duck penises are corkscrew shaped which is super handy for opening bottles of wine while camping.

Ruffed Grouse: The Ruffed Grouse is a non-migratory bird that forgets the fact that at one time, one of their ancestors migrated from somewhere.

Turkey: These large birds are the main event of every Thanksgiving dinner and signal the beginning of insane sales where people die trying to get a “deal.”

Turkey Vulture: A turkey and a vulture had a regrettable one-night stand. One of them believed life begins at conception and look at that... a new species!

Fish

Largemouth Bass: The Largemouth Bass is similar to the Smallmouth Bass, only that the mouth is larger. Really, it’s all there in the name.

Rock Bass: Rock Bass are fresh water fish who don’t have a problem with being around human activity. They are completely unimpressed by everything we do. Everything.

Smallmouth Bass: It is the male Bass that stays back and guards the eggs. They are the stay-at-home dads of the fish world.

Bull Trout: Bull Trout are an extremely sensitive species that don’t tolerate high levels of sediment in their streams or any other environmental microaggressions.

Golden Trout: Different types of trout are capable of mating and producing viable offspring, but they’ve remained distinct for thousands of years because trout are super racist.

Lake Trout: Lake Trout can be difficult to find because of their preference for cold, dark, and murky lower depths. You can also find them trolling online forums.

Rainbow Trout: Rainbow Trout are the state’s number one game fish and they never shut up about it. We get it, you won. Stop reminding us every day.

Arctic Grayling Salmon: Arctic Graylings can be identified by their colorful and very large dorsal fin. Fly that fin loud and proud, you majestic creatures.

Chinook Salmon: The Chinook swims from the ocean back to freshwater where it spawns then dies. It’s sad, but you can never go home again.

Kokanee Salmon: The Kokanee are land-locked, and only live in freshwater. Like all salmon they die after spawning, which isn’t such a bad way to go really.

Paddlefish Sturgeon: Paddlefish caviar is a hot commodity, but even if you harvest the eggs yourself, you can’t take them outside. Isn’t that just like the government to think they have a say over someone else’s eggs?

Pallid Sturgeon: The Pallid Sturgeon has no teeth. It eats by sucking in its food and that’s why they’re known as the meth heads of the sea.

Plants

Jimson Weed: This nightshade was named “Jamestown weed” after soldiers there ate it and got blasted. YOLO.

Lupine: A wolf-like destroyer of soil quality. They say full moons don’t affect it, but we all know the truth.

Mustard: That yellow condiment in your fridge starts from this plants and is made in another type of plant.

Prairie Fire: It hooks up with neighboring plants, steals nutrients, and gives flowers. Sounds like THAT ex.

Prickly Lettuce: The leaves of this annual are bitter like life itself. Unlike life itself, you can put it in a salad.

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Riverdale//it could be worse...couldn’t it?

Request: spending thanksgiving with the riverdale cast ?

hey! i really hope you like this!! and i know this was requested fairly recently compared to the other things in my inbox, but i thought with it being thanksgiving today i may as well post it now! anyway, happy thanksgiving, i hope everyone who is celebrating has a wonderful day eating! 

- Okay so 

- With covid still being a thing, filming for the new season has been absolutely all over the place 

- And so in order to get the next few episodes done in time 

- You’ve all been asked to come in 

- And film over thanksgiving 

- Which of course none of you are particularly pleased about 

- I mean running around, fighting monsters and each other is really not what any of you planned to be doing today 

- But nevertheless 

- You all drag yourself on to set 

- ‘hey, it could be worse. we could all be alone on thanksgiving’ lili tries her hardest to lighten the mood as she walks onto set carrying a cardboard box 

- You eye her suspiciously as she carefully places the box on the table in front of you 

- And you move the salt and pepper props out of the way before moving so she can sit beside you in the booth

- ‘i genuinely think i’d prefer that’ casey interrupts, pulling one of his headphones out

- Lili just huffs and throw a napkin at his head before she turns back to you

- ‘i promise, it’s gonna be fun’ she tries again and you send her a doubtful look, that unsurprisingly is mirrored by the majority of cast and crew

- ‘whatever!’ she huffs and stands. ‘i’m going to hair and makeup, at least they’ll be happy to see me’ 

- ‘i wouldn’t hold your breath.’ you say in a sing song tone, earning a few chuckles from your friends

- She flips you off before disappearing out of the door

- Leaving the rest of you to sit around while you wait for the crew to set the shot up

- ‘if you guys were at home...what do you think you would be doing right now?’ charles asks, and you raise your head to look at him in the other booth 

- ‘hmmm’ kj says and checks his phone ‘napping’ 

- ‘ha! you wish, you just had a kid remember’ vanessa snorts

- ‘i’d be eating about now’ you sigh dreamily, thinking of your mom’s famous pumpkin pie

- ‘pumkpin pie?’ cami asks and you nod, the two of you sighing again ‘what about you jordan?’ 

- ‘hmm, i dunno, maybe hiking somewhere’ 

- ‘boring!’ you shout and he throws a paper straw at you

- ‘you don’t celebrate thanksgiving?’ madelaine asks 

- ‘i’m canadian, proper thanksgiving was over a month ago’ he shrugs causing a lot of groans and few offended gasps

- ‘proper thanksgiving?’ cami repeats, trying really hard not to show how offended she is

- ‘exactly’ drew says, high fiving jordan before the two of them go back to scrolling through their phones

- ‘okay, we’re ready to film...before a fight breaks out’ roberto interrupts forcing you to reluctantly get into your places 

- And after a really long day of filming and then doing nothing and then filming again 

- As well as the occasional argument over what is the proper thanksgiving and what isn’t 

- You finally wrap on the last scene of the day 

- Causing all you to let out a long sigh 

- But as you’re packing up and getting ready to go home 

- Hoping and praying that your mom somehow mailed a piece of pumpkin pie to you 

- You get a knock on the door from one of the production assistants asking you if you can come back to the set of pop’s in order to re-film a snippet of one of your previous scenes 

- You’re led through the back door which you think is odd 

- But decide to put it down to not risking ruining the set and prolonging the filming 

- However as you walk through the doors of the kitchen 

- You’re greeted with the sight of your friends 

- And a shit ton of food 

- So much that you can’t really see the table for plates 

- ‘holy shit’ you mutter 

- Lili catches your eye and waves you over

- She elbows KJ to move over a bit of he rolls his eyes at her but smiles when he see’s you 

- ‘now that we’re all together. i just want to say thank you to each of you for being here. i know you would have preferred to be with your families, but i am so grateful that despite that, you still all chose to come here and do your job. i am so grateful for every single one of you, and i’m even more grateful that you still made today a fun and happy place, even if you were feeling sadness too.’ roberto finishes his speech and you raise your glasses to cheers ‘now, let’s eat!’ 

- ‘oh. my. god! this is the best turkery i have ever tasted in my life’ 

- ‘drew, i swear to get if you don’t give me the carrots i will kill you’ 

- ‘now, now. thanksgiving is all about being kind to each other’ 

- ‘do you even know the meaning behind thanksgiving?’ 

- ‘fair enough’ 

- ‘okay! who’s got the motherfucking stuffing?’ 

- ‘hey, do any of you wanna hear a thanksgiving joke?’ 

- ‘if it’s coming from you charles, absolutely not. i still haven’t recovered from the halloween joke about boning’ 

- ‘hey! that was good joke!’ 

- ‘for an immature 12 year old...yes.’ vanessa snorts

- After you’ve eaten 

- You spend the rest of the evening playing stupid thanksgiving games 

- Like...

- Stuff, marry, kill

- ‘that sounds like more of a serial killer game’ 

- Betty Bingo

- ‘really? you guys know that i’m not actually betty right?’ lili argues, rolling her eyes at the giggles that still haven’t settled down after it was announced to get the bingo cards out from under the table. 

- ‘yeah. but we have that you try and save thanksgiving’ cami says with a sweet smile

- ‘really?’ 

- ‘no.’ kj laughs ‘but there is lili believes obvious lie’ he says and shows her the card 

- ‘you guys are the worst’ 

- And as the night progresses 

- So do the games 

- Meaning that by 10pm

- All of you have been roped into a very competitive game of drunken charades

- Which ends with a huge fight over how to correctly act out being thankful 

- And that apparently it should be something to do with friends...and not sex

- So yeah 

- You may not have been with your family 

- But you’re family weren’t that far from you 

- Which was proved when some of the costume people brought a pumpkin pie out to you which made you cry, especially when you saw the note signed ‘love, mom’

- ‘woah, is that actually her mom’s?’ cole asks 

- ‘no, it’s from the bakery down the road but she’s too drunk to tell the difference’ lili giggles and the hiccups, also very drunk.

- ‘it’s a thanksgiving miracle!’  

[sigurdjarlson]

how would tomgreg meet the parents go on both sides? tom w ewan and greg’s mom (forgot her name love you greg’s mom) and greg with tom’s parents. (bonus tom with greg’s dad??)

I feel like Tom’s parents would like Greg. He’s weird and awkward but he’s generally nice to people. They probably only care if he makes Tom happy

Tom seems like he probably has the best relationship with his parents out of anyone in the show tbh? We’ve never heard him speak badly of them and he’s absolutely thrilled to see them at the wedding.

(He still calls them mommy and daddy even like lmao) and they seem just as happy to see him. They call him Tommy 😭🧡 He also wants to go see them for holidays earlier in s1 but shiv keeps shutting him down.

His mom is his lawyer (this man is a mamas boy I know it) and he’s extremely distressed that “his mother is dying of thirst” on his wedding eve 😂 (and he had to carry a briefcase! The audacity)

But I could see Greg being kind of taken aback by how openly affectionate they all are with each other. He’s NOT used to it. His immediate family isn’t like that, The Roys definitely aren’t like that.

Like his grandpa as we know has the emotional range of a stump and his mom seems like she might have some of that harshness/emotional distance too

(I mean look at how starved he is for attention. That doesn’t just come out of no where. Marianne doesn’t seem like the warm and cuddly type. Not saying she doesn’t love him because from what we know I think she does. She’s just..her fathers daughter.)

But I could see Greg getting very attached to Tom’s parents if they did show him affection and basically welcome him into the family with open arms. I read a fic where he plays catch with Tom’s dad and argh </3 because he’s never gotten that from his own

It would go well I think. I could see Tom’s mom scolding him for being too harsh with Greg sometimes too. :P like she didn’t raise you to act like that Thomas.

Now Marianne and Ewan…

Well, Tom has already met Ewan in person at Thanksgiving. (I’m not sure the fuck your grandpa convo counts as a meeting but it’s definitely a horrible first impression LMAO)

He actually pisses Ewan off I think? When Ewan is talking about the war or whatever Tom chimes in with “I thought Canadians only fought on ice with hockey sticks haha” or something like that and Ewan gives him the dirtiest fuckin look lmao

He then proceeds to get more heated about his rant and Tom hilariously just looks at the ground after that like oops… (doesn’t help on the drive there Tom said quite emphatically “fuck your grandpa”)

But you know I think the dislike would be mutual and not just because he doesn’t like Tom. I think Tom would be bothered by how Ewan is with Greg. Look at his family and then look at Greg’s, you know? It makes him angry and I wonder if pushed if he might even say something in Greg’s defense

Or at least to Greg when Ewan isn’t around.

Marianne is a harder nut to crack because we know so little about her. She comes off rather distant and harsh on the phone? It could be because Greg is pissing her off in those moments but i think that might be her default state with him.

(I mean look at how starved for affection Greg is)

She does care about him though. She’s concerned when he calls her in the middle of the night (and then annoyed when it turns out to be that he lost his job on day 1).

And while she does refuse to give Greg money and I personally think that was cold..she does tell Ewan to feed Greg when he goes into town and mentions Greg is broke according to Ewan.

So I think she does love her son but like any Roy (ignoring she’s still a hirsch) she seems to struggle with showing it.

It’s interesting, she obviously was the one who raised him since his dad took off. Nic mentions he thinks she kind of sheltered Greg and held him back even and I thought that was an interesting tidbit. I don’t see it but if Greg spent a lot of his life taking care of her like he is with her debts..that would make sense. (Also “she’s a bit of a headcase” so she has some kind of mental health struggles. Maybe an addiction? We don’t know)

Greg shows quite a bit of frustration with her but he does love his mom. He pays her debts off. He gives her a card (and god I know the deleted scene doesn’t count but him panicking and saying he needs to call his mom during the “shooting” because he thinks he’s going to die? </3)

But on a less happy note than the Wambsgans + Greg…

I personally find the idea Marianne just immediately hates Tom kind of funny in a horrible way but she also would have a few understandable reasons to do so depending on how much Greg tells her?

Either way I think she immediately picks up on the weird vibes between them.

I wouldn’t be surprised if she had her suspicions Greg was gay. She probably didn’t care, idk why I just don’t think she would? (It’s his dad she’s mad at not all gay people..probably) But I could see Greg being terrified she would be so he hasn’t come out to her

They just don’t talk about it. I feel like that’s a thing with Greg. He just..doesn’t talk about things that really truly bother him. (Minor inconveniences yes but deep rooted issues like his dad? He never brings it up). It’s like if I don’t think about it I don’t have to deal with it. Maybe he gets that from his mom.

But yeah I could see her seeing Tom, a man married to her cousin and seeing he’s clearly infatuated with her son and THAT rubs her the wrong way. That reminds her of Greg’s dad. So, she’s just immediately like ugh I don’t like you.

Also let’s be real it looks even worse than it is on the outside?

Tom a man two decades Greg’s senior, his boss and a man who’s married to Greg’s cousin…

Depending on how much she knows or witnesses, all that on top of how harsh (and crude) he can be with Greg…I think any mother that isn’t heartless would be rightfully concerned?

If I was a parent I’d be concerned that it’s you know..it’s cruise situation esque shit. If only because he’s Greg’s boss.

However she does notice Greg is infatuated with Tom too and her first thought is this man is clearly manipulating and using her son. Maybe it’s for some business power play or maybe it’s just sex but she doesn’t like it.

Also Tom tries way too hard (in her opinion) to make her like him and it makes her dislike him all the more lmao.

And of course with Tom being married she’s obviously looking at her son and thinking he’s gonna get his heart broken. She doesn’t know how in love Tom is with Greg. She’s thinking he’s never going to leave his wife because she’s Shiv Roy and he’s gonna continue to string her son along until he finds a new boy toy to take his repression out on.

(this is all the funnier if they actually haven’t even started fucking yet but she’s convinced they are)

Tom is probably genuinely confused why she seems to hate him. Greg says she’s just like that but she seems civil enough with other people. He feels like he’s talking to a even more aggressive version of Caroline, her dropping barbs and what he highly suspects are thinly veiled threats.

Literally everything he does backfires though. He gets her flowers and she’s allergic. He offers to buy her something and she accuses him of seeing them as a charity case. He’s being nice to Gregand she’s thinking god what a fucking lech.

She does not like him. He’s going to hurt her son and while she isn’t the best or warmest mom she does love Greg. (And sheltered makes me think she does have some protective instinct in there). He’s her only son and she raised him alone presumably.

Greg is mostly confused and thinks his mom is just being ridiculous about the whole thing. He’s not in love with Tom? Tom isn’t in love with him? Wait..

Also..Greg mentions Tom has a dog (his mom likes dogs) but he foolishly mentions he’s penned up most of the time and as a woman who lets her dogs on the bed she’s disgusted. LMAO (Greg’s like jeez mom it’s Shiv who does that not Tom but she still blames Tom because she wants to)

And her Greg has always been a sensitive boy. Always so eager for affection she never quite knew how to give him.

Greg’s dad? Hm..it’s hard to say because besides him being gay and taking off on Greg we know nothing about him.

Did he ever try to contact Greg? Did Marianne put a stop to it maybe or did he just give up? Did he just walk away and never look back? Was he a good dad when he was in Greg’s life or a shitty one?

So it would depend a lot on what kind of person he is but I think Tom would immediately dislike him just because he’s a deadbeat who abandoned his son with his clearly unhinged mom in Tom’s opinion

Whether he’d like Tom idk. He might try to fuck Tom for all we know. He might hate Tom because he’s an obvious closet case who’s maybe stringing his son along. Who knows 😂

For all we know he could not care about Greg at all or be a major asshole. Hell, maybe he comes back into Greg’s life solely because he sees his son is successful now and he’s come mooching.

Maybe he does genuinely feel bad about leaving Greg and want to make amends.

We just don’t know and I want to know so bad!!!

[thatlowiqbabe]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write something for HoO boys being your boy friend? Also, do you think it’s possible for you to do a trans (ftm) hispanic demiboy? Thanks!

Oh yeah sure! As a Demi-Boy it's my duty!

This is over 900 words so there's gonna be a part two (sorry bout that)

HOO Boys with A Hispanic!Demi-Boy! S/O

Frank Zhang

"Wait your a demi-boy? Like cause you're a demi-god orr"

"Oh okay, totally unrelated gotcha."

You probably came out to Frank after the Son of neptune, scared you'd never get the chance to tell him.

He asked some silly questions but obviously accepted you! He would do more research via internet but demi-gods and phones don't mix

(What do you mean he's been asking other trans demi-gods how to better understand, you obviously got the wrong chinese-canadian shape-shifting son of mars)

Anyway he loves you, and tries to switch pronouns often ❤️ (if you use multiple)

If you're ever feeling dysphoric, he'll turn into an cuddly animal of your choice to make you feel better.

Will turn into a bear and (threaten to)  eat a transphobe

(They probably taste funny lol)

(If you're bilingual) You, him and Jason sit in a circle and speak in spanish, canadian french, and latin, knowing damn well y'all don't understand each other.

Y'all be looking like this

Don't even try having Thanksgiving with him

"Happy Thanksgiving!"

".... I'm canadian."

"Oh, uhhh happy thursday then??"

Like sir, do you want some turkey or not?

Jason Grace

"So wait, if you're a demi-god and a demi-boy do they like cancel each other out?"

"I- baby no—"

"Can I call you God-Boy?"

Y'all give him a minute, boy brain ain't right after getting knocked out so many times 🤣

Being called God-Boy does make you feel powerful ngl

You probably "dated" during hoo, and after you started dating for real came out to him.

Uses both pronouns, like every other paragraph. (If you use multiple)

If you're a greek demi-god, he loves to take you over to Camp Jupiter, and take you on tours around the parthenon and go on dates

If you're roman, he takes you out to Camp half-blood and maybe even tour manhattan!

(Gotta be a group date though, he's been at Camp Jupiter since he was 3 and only left on quests, he don't know where he going)

(If your bilingual) He'll teach you latin if you teach him spanish! It's always cool to know another language, especially if you're partner speaks it.

If you're dysphoric, y'all take naps together.

You don't have to stress, whatever's outside can wait a while, right now it's just you and him ❤️

You're his little God-Boy, he loves you

What do you mean he specifically asked to do whatever chores you had that day? Uh-huh couldn't be him 🛑🖐️ stop playing

Don't let him meet your mortal parent

Boy be so nervous he don't know what to do

"Jason, dear could you pass me the (fav. Food) "

"Yes  (Mr./Mrs/Mx.) L/n, I will have a ham sandwich "

"..."

"..."

"..."

He left with a ham sandwich and a red face

He got invited back over, so it wasn't too bad tho lol

Leo Valdez

He already knew you were a demi-boy!

You probably came out to Leo before y'all started dating, and maybe before y'all knew you were demi-gods, he just has that "yes I'd beat a bitch's ass and lose, and what about it?" Energy y'know??

Obviously you could trust him.

Will try to to use both pronouns, but might stick with one for a while before switching it up and then sticking to one again

Y'all probably talk shit about people together honestly.

Let's be honest, if you were bilingual, with a boyfriend who was also bilingual, and y'all didn't like this one person you'd talk shit right in front of them.

If you're really petty you'd make it obvious too.

If you're ever feeling some dysphoria, don't worry cause Leo got dis-for-ya!

Iamsosorry

But seriously he'll build you tiny trinkets and stuff to help you feel better

Greatifyoureahoarderlikemelol

If you want, you could help him with building, or even build something yourself!

(You: somehow builds a bomb or something equally dangerous

Leo:

)

Y'all like to make smores, and probably sing the campfire song from spongebob while doing it

(Whether it's on Leo or an actual campfire depends on y'all mood)

"OUR C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E  S-O-N-G SONG"

"Hey, you did it without stuttering this time!"

Nico di Angelo

"So you trans your gender??"

"Uh no, I'm transgender, it doesn't work like that—"

"How do you trans your gender?? Is it a like a process to get your gender trans or does it happen all at once?"

This boy a whole boomer, lord have mercy 😭🖐️

Growing up in early 1900's he doesn't really understand, but he'll try.

If he feels like he's bothering you with too many with questions, he'll go bother Annabeth instead.

Uses both pronouns, despite not knowing how you can have more than one. (If you use multiple)

Will do his best to get rid of any internalized transphobia he might have. Even if he grew up around Bianca, it was a hateful time back then and he might have biases.

You're dysphoric, but how??

He understands how dysphoria works, as much as it pains him to know that you're hurting, he didn't understand how it could effect someone like you.

You were much braver than he was, not being outed and actually coming out on your own. You were the man you said you were and more.

Sometimes y'all just lay down outside under a tree and he'll sing to you.

(Y'all know I'm talking about Soldatino don't even play)

Those days can go from bad to okay to great, depending on what y'all do afterward.

Sometimes y'all go out to eat at McDonald's via shadow travel, and I hope you got cash cause the seven gonna want some too lol (this includes Rachel and Will btw)

"So you're ordering (big af order) to go, for just the two of you?"

"We're eating for nine."

"No baby we're eating for eleven remember?"

Cashier, who's just trying to earn they minimum wage:

I don't know how to end this lol

Um part 2 will be out soon, maybe like a day from now if I don't forget lol

Thank you for requesting! I hope it was up to your standards, if not then I hope you enjoyed it anyway, cause I enjoyed writing it!

If you're interested in my writing pls request, I only have one other to do so it might be done soon!

Also, I hope Leo's bilingual hc isn't offensive in anyway. I'm just realizing how rude that may sound. If it is I'll write a new one. I'm not bilingual but if I was that's what I'd do. Again, I hope I didn't come off as ignorant on that hc.

[broadstbroskis]

thanksgiving | jeff skinner

a/n: it’s here!!! this is like 4k that i threw together in like a week after i took it as a personal challenge from @blueskrugs after i asked why we don’t write more thanksgiving fics. a huge shoutout to her and @danglesnipecelly, for inspiration and cheering me on for this, as well as literally anyone else who’s cheered me on to finish thing, you’re all the real mvps and i love you all 💚

-----

Jeff shrugs, and from across the table filled with pizza, beer, and a bunch of other things that are most definitely not on his approved list of foods, you stare at him.

“I dunno. I don’t really have plans, I guess? Probably just sit at home, relax a little?” He says. Your jaw drops. He has...he has what now? “You're going to your parent’s right?” You nod slowly, still stuck on the fact that he’s going to sit at home and do nothing on Thanksgiving, the best of all holidays. Not spend the day with some teammates, not make a quick trip to his family, nothing. “That’ll be fun!” Jeff grins, dimples popping. “What are you-”

“You’re doing nothing?” You get out finally, the words coming back to you.

Jeff’s smile falters, but only slightly, and he nods. “Yeah? I mean, there’s no practice, no games. I’ll just…” He trails off for a second and then shrugs. “Rest.”

“You’re not going to go, like, visit your parents? They’re right across the border!”

“It’s a Thursday.” Jeff says patiently and you abruptly remember that his Canadian-ness is the whole point of this conversation.

“Thanksgiving is the best holiday! You can’t sit at home alone on it; I forbid it!” Jeff’s smile grows again as he laughs and you try and fight your own grin as you shove at his shoulders, to no avail. “Come home with me!”

“What?” He laughs again, but this time, it’s more like disbelief.

But the idea is already growing in your mind. “Come home with me! You know my parents love you, they won’t mind at all!”

“I can’t just invite myself to your Thanksgiving!” Jeff protests.

You wave him off. “You’re not, I’m inviting you! Come on, we’d love to have you!” He still looks hesitant, so you add, “Our Thanksgiving is huge anyway; one extra mouth to feed isn’t going to put anyone out, Jeff.”

“Alright.” He caves, and you grin, pulling your phone close to you to text your mom and let her know. “But ask your mom, okay? Like, really ask her, don’t just, like, tell her I’m coming.”

“Too late!” You say cheerfully, showing him the text you’d sent in your family group chat, telling them you were bringing Jeff with you next week. Your mom’s already responded with a string of happy face emojis and your younger sister with a How I Met Your Mother gif about Canadian Thanksgiving. “Be prepared for a lot of Canada jokes!”

“Is that supposed to be different than any other time I see your family?’ Jeff deadpans, but you’re pretty sure he looks like, at least 50% more relaxed, so you count this as a win and ignore him completely, already mentally planning for the best holiday of the year.

-----

The drive back home to your parents takes about an hour longer than you’d like, stuck in the same godawful traffic as everyone else trying to leave Buffalo on Wednesday so that they can get back home in time to go out that night. 

When Jeff finally pulls his car up in front of your childhood home, you can already see that it’s bustling with activity, getting ready for tomorrow. Most of your siblings have already arrived- only your older brother, with his wife and daughters will come in tomorrow, with the rest of your family- but your younger brother and sister have already come home, a fact that’s even more evident when you and Jeff walk in the front door and immediately trip over three pairs of sneakers.

“Liam!” You cry, grabbing onto Jeff so you don’t fall. “Motherfucker, move your shoes!”

Your brother pops his head out of the living room, AirPods in his ears. “I’m on a call!” And just as you're marveling at the fact that your brother is a real person with a real job taking real work calls, said real person with a real job spots Jeff and lights up. “Jeff! Bro! What’s up, man?”

“I thought you were on a call.” You snap at him.

“I’m on mute.” Liam slaps his palm against Jeff’s pulling him in for a ridiculous handshake-bro hug combo, before he finally comes over and lifts you off the floor. “Yo!”

“Yo!” You repeat, honestly unable to believe you’re related to this kid. If the two of you didn’t look exactly alike, you’d probably think he was adopted. “You still coming out tonight?”

“Hell yeah, this is my last call. I’m ready to go.”

You snicker, looking down at his sweatpants and dress shirt combo- he must have taken a video call at some point today. “Yeah, okay, bud.”

He ruffles your hair, in that annoying way he’s been able to do ever since he grew taller than you. “Don’t you worry, I will be.”

You laugh, ducking under his arm, to let him get back to it. You’ve got no doubts about that. Liam’s always ready to party. “Finish your call so we can start pregaming.”

He grins, like you knew he would. “Now we’re talking.” And then he ducks back into your dad’s office.

Jeff is laughing when you look back at him and you give him a look. “What?”

“Nothing, just forgot how the two of you were when you got going.”

“Yup, and you’re stuck with us for next two days!” You grin.

Jeff rolls his eyes at you, but he’s still smiling when he follows you to the kitchen, in search of your mom. She’s at the counter, rolling dough for biscuits, her only other contribution to the annual Thanksgiving dinner that she hosts, besides the turkey; a holiday that she’d taken over hosting once it had become too much for your grandmother to handle, but only on the caveat that everyone began contributing food toward the meal. It’s been a potluck style holiday ever since.

She’s ultra-focused, the volume on her favorite playlist high (this wild mix of 80’s pop and today’s hits that’s actually kind of a banger), so you sneak up behind her and wrap your arms around her. “Hi!”

“Jesus!” Your mom jumps, elbowing you in the process, but you’re laughing too hard to care. “Don’t do that!”

“Just excited to see you!” You beam at her, squeezing her once more, before pulling away. “Where do you want the pie?” Jeff lifts the pie you’d made yesterday, showing your mom.

Your mom purses her lips, studying the kitchen around her. “Leave it on the counter for now; I’ll have your dad clear some space in the garage.” She gestures with her elbow. “Hi Jeff!” 

“Hi!” Jeff pulls out his best smile, a real one, dimples super popped. “Thank you for having me-”

Your mom cuts him off before he can finish, like you knew she would. “Oh, we’re so happy you could make it! You’re welcome anytime, Jeff!” She assures him.

“Is the guest room ready?” You ask. “We’ll throw our stuff upstairs before Dad sees it at the bottom of the steps and has a fit.”

Your mom fights back a laugh at that- a statement that everyone in your family knows all too well-but then looks almost apologetic as she finishes, “It is, but we gave it to Katie.”

“Oh, Katie’s here too?” Your sister’s roommate at college was, at this point, basically another sister to you. She hardly went home for breaks within the semesters, usually came up for at least a month during the summer, and more often than not came home with Abby when she was back for anything. The “guest room” really was more like Katie’s room at this point. 

“Where else would she be?” Abby appears, right on cue, with Katie right behind her, practically matching in leggings and oversized sorority shirts. “It’s Thanksgiving; she’s ready to rage tonight.”

You actually can’t wait for the babies to be hungover tomorrow-both were 21 for their first Thanksgiving Eve and you know they’re going to be in a super rough spot tomorrow-but you keep that thought to yourself. 

“It didn’t even occur to me!” Your mom says apologetically. “I just gave Katie her usual room.”

“No, it’s cool. Jeff and I can share. He doesn’t mind, right?” But you barely even wait for his shrug and nod in agreement. It’s not like you haven’t before, when you’re either too lazy or too drunk to go home. You’re both adults, it’s no big. “I’ve shared a bed with you before; I’ll spare Katie the bruised shins.” You tease your sister.

Katie cracks up as Abby sputters out how rude you are. “It’s a hazard!” Katie agrees, dodging the swat your sister sends towards her. It sets the two of them off, which you take as your cue to grab Jeff’s hand and drag him (and your stuff) up to your room.

Of course, usually when you’re sharing a bed with Jeff, it’s a king sized bed, or at least a queen- definitely not the double that your parents just shoved in your old room to replace the queen bed that had been in there until you moved out and took your furniture with you. You hadn’t realized how small it was though, not until today, until the idea of actually having to share it with someone, with Jeff, who might not be a giant, but isn’t tiny.  “Sorry.” You apologize, almost unsure of what you’re saying.

Jeff shrugs. “Well, at least you don’t kick.” He smiles, as then it’s like everything’s back to normal, that awkward feeling that was growing over you gone as quickly as it came. 

“She’s a bruiser, don’t let her tell you otherwise.” You throw your bag down, rifling through it for the sweater you were planning to wear tomorrow, to hang it up so it isn’t too wrinkled.

Jeff laughs. “I’ll take your word for it.” He’s holding up his shirt, a button down and a tie. “Where can I hang this?”

“You can’t wear that!”

He frowns, likely at the vehemence you’d just spoken that with. “Uhh, why not?”

“You’ll get roasted.” Seriously, you’d told him it wasn’t a dressy affair. God, what part of not dressy does he think requires a tie? “Don’t you have, like, a sweater?”

“I mean, yeah, but-”

“Sweater and jeans, that’s fine.”

Jeff gives you a look. “That doesn’t seem-”

“Sweater. And jeans.” You repeat. He’ll thank you tomorrow, when your uncle doesn’t ask him when tea is. When your cousin doesn’t talk to him only in a fake British accent for the entire night. 

Jeff hands over a sweater, a soft thing you’ve seen him wear on many occasions, and you smile your thanks at him, hanging it up next to yours. “Meet your standards?” He asks; you think he’s aiming for teasing but he kind of misses the mark, sounding a little more nervous than joking.

“Perfect.” He smiles back at you and you laugh. “Come on, you dork. Let’s go see what’s for dinner tonight.”

-----

“Don’t wake me up when you come in tonight!” Your dad calls, as he drops the five of you off at Mel’s, the bar for Thanksgiving Eve. Your friends are already at the bar, you’re anticipating a high school reunion for sure, and you’ve warned Jeff of this, even though he assured you that he could handle it, and he was just excited for a nice, chill night.

You’d actually laughed out loud at that. Oh Jeffrey. 

“Pshh.” Liam waves your dad off. “I haven’t done that since I was like 16 and still having to sneak out.”

Your dad gives him a look. “I was talking to your sister.” He looks over at Abby, who ignores him completely, in favor of taking a SnapChat with Katie, and he sighs resolutely. You all absolutely know she isn’t listening to a word he says. “Have fun, be safe. Uber home.”

Liam salutes him. “Will do.”

Inside the bar, the night starts exactly as you and Liam have started your last few Thanksgiving Eve’s-with a round of shots at the bar as you’re ordering drinks, before splitting off to find your respective friends to start the evening.

Jeff fits in with your friends fantastically, laughing and joking around with them like he’s known them forever, even though you’re sure the only one he’s met is your oldest friend, Ashley. But he greets Ashley and her husband, Brian, like old friends, and quickly joins conversations with all your other friends, and soon hours have passed before your brother is sliding up behind you. “Heads up.” Liam mutters as he passes. “Douche at 3 o’clock.”

You tense as it takes everything in you not to turn and look over. “Hey.” Jeff nudges you, concern clear in his eyes as he looks at you, and you’re not sure what he pulled himself away from, but you must look pretty bad. “You okay?”

You nod, kinda spacily, but leaning in closer to him, and he takes the cue to curl in toward you- you’re not really interested in shouting to the entire bar and you’re really not interested in drawing attention to yourself. “Yeah, just- my ex is over there.”

Jeff purses his lips for a minute and then schools his face back to neutral. “I take it things didn’t end well.”

“No.” You say, thinking of the demise of your relationship with Dylan. “It did not.”

You hadn’t even realized that Jeff grabbed your hand until he’s squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You shake your head. “It was...definitely for the best.” It might have taken you a while to see that, but you can now, even if the rare instances you still see Dylan sometimes rattles you. “I thought I was going to marry him, at one point, but I’m so much happier here now.”

Jeff smiles. “Good.”

You squeeze his hand once more, a thanks for his comfort and care, before both of you rejoin the conversation, and you forget about Dylan entirely for the next hour, until you physically run into him coming back from the bar with another round of drinks for you and Jeff.

“Hey!” Dylan beams at you, goes right in for a cheek kiss, like you’re still that familiar, and once again you stiffen up.

“Hi.” You return politely, ready to sidestep around him and return to Jeff and your friends.

“No, wait.” Dylan steps with you, blocking your path. “I haven’t seen you in forever. Let’s catch up a minute, what’s new?”

“No offense, Dylan, but I’m not really looking to catch up with you.” You say flatly.

He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can another voice cuts in. “Everything okay here?” Jeff asks politely, stepping very purposefully next to you, and Dylan’s eyes immediately fly over to him.

“Mhmm,” You nod. “Was just on my way back to you.”

“Good.” Jeff says, in a tone far more harsh than you usually hear him take. “Let’s get back.” He positions himself again, clearing a space for you to easily slip past Dylan, and then steps closely behind you, catching up quickly.

“Thanks.” You lean against him, gently, not looking to spill either of your drinks, but Jeff solves that problem by taking his.

“Any time.” Jeff says softly and you don’t have much else to say on the matter so you just nudge him once more in thanks and walk back toward your friends with him at your side.

-----

When you wake up the next morning, you’re warm and comfortable and only a little hungover, which you count as a huge success. There’s not too much noise going on downstairs yet, which means you definitely have some more time to sleep, so you curl back into your pillow, humming contently when it pulls you in closer.

And then your eyes pop open abruptly, because pillows don’t do that.

Except they do when they look like Jeff Skinner, who looks just as soft and warm and comfortable as you feel right now, still sleeping judging by the evenness of his breath. 

It’s just...it’s a really nice way to wake up, with Jeff’s kind-of smiling face, looking super soft and cozy as he breathes just on the wrong side of too loud, but not so loudly that it drives you nuts. 

It’s a little too early to unpack that, and your hangover might not be that bad but it’s definitely bad enough that you’re not ready to think on that, so you close your eyes and let yourself curl into Jeff and fall back asleep.

-----

When you do finally get out of bed, Thanksgiving morning is its usual chaos, running around with last minute errands, cleaning, and helping your mom in the kitchen. The last to shower for the day, by the time you arrive downstairs, the Lions vs. Bears game is well underway, your notoriously early grandparents have already arrived, and your grandmother is already asking your mom where that one turkey decoration she bought her one year is.

You bypass the kitchen entirely and move toward the living room, where you find your dad, grandfather, Jeff, and siblings all gathered, just as you’d expected. You slide down on the floor next to Jeff, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before more of your family arrives and you’re offering your set up anyway, and wait for the next round of chaos to begin.

It doesn’t take long. Your aunts, uncles, and cousins start pouring in and then it’s just introduction after introduction, as you wrap up showing off Jeff to one group just as the next arrives. You are absolutely confident he has no idea who anyone is, but it’s fine, because he’s still laughing and joking around with all your uncles and cousins that have joined you in watching football. 

The kitchen is its own brand of chaos, when you make a quick stop in on your back from a beer run, but chaos has never stopped your aunt before and it certainly isn’t today. “Oh my god!” She exclaims, after you’ve pressed a smacking kiss to the top of your grandmom’s head. “That boy!”

“What boy?” You ask, like an idiot, which is immediately clear from the looks you get from everyone in the kitchen, even your usually oblivious uncle, who’s doing...something...with the ham they’d brought. “Who, Jeff?”

“Yes.” Another aunt stresses. “He’s cute!”

You shrug. “Yeah, I mean-”

But your grandmom cuts you off this time. “And so friendly! Just the nicest boy! Oh, you couldn’t have found anyone better!” She exclaims.

“Well, I haven’t.” You announce, watching all of their faces fall. “So sorry to burst that bubble.”

“Why?” One of your older cousins frowns. “Girl. Get on that. You are not going to do better than that boy in there.”

“I truly don’t know if that was meant to be a dig at me or you all think that highly of Jeff already, but regardless. We are just friends.” Now everyone in the kitchen is giving you a look. You gather the beers and retreat, distributing them as you return to your spot on the floor near Jeff.

He’s giving you a look as you pass him his, but whatever’s on your face must not be too bad, because he just thanks you as you pass him the bottle, and you nod in return as you try to find the same comfortable spot as before, leaning against his thigh.

-----

Your dad catches you a bit later, as he’s coming back with beers this time and you’re coming out of the bathroom, and he nudges you carefully as you take a few bottles from his hand. “So Jeff?”

You groan. The tone of that statement was far too loaded. “Jesus, you too?”

Your dad laughs. “Who else?”

“Everyone.”

“Well maybe that should be your hint.” Your dad says teasingly, but also not? There’s definitely some seriousness to this. “That Jeff’s pretty perfect for you.”

You stare at him. “You’ve met Jeff, like, a hundred times. Why’s this coming out now?”

“I always thought you were my smart kid and that you’d figure it out yourself.” He muses. “Now I realize you’re only book-smart and you’d never figure this out on your own.” And then he leaves you there in the hallway, with your jaw dropped and too many thoughts, as he continues on, laughing at you.

-----

When the call to come serve yourselves echoes into the room, the usual mad scramble follows immediately. It’s only as you’re getting into line behind your brother that you realize that Jeff’s not with you anymore, and you abandon the long line waiting for food, in favor of seeking out Jeff.

You find Jeff upstairs, in your room, just kind of lounging on your bed, and you lean against the doorway. “Hey! Food’s ready.”

“Yeah.” Jeff nods, the smile he sends you back in return far too tight and forced to be genuine. “Be right down.”

But he doesn’t move, so you step in and climb into your bed next to him. “What’s wrong?”

Jeff laughs; it’s kind of hollow and doesn’t sound anything like his usual loud laugh or his giggles that you love. “What- nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Jeff.” You say softly. “Come on.”

He sighs. “Why did you bring me here?”

That...was not at all what you expected. “What?”

“Why did you bring me here?” He repeats. “Why did you bring me home, to your family? I thought, maybe, finally…” He trails off for a minute. “Except, there’s like ten other randos here too!” He laughs again, that hollow thing that you’re already hating. “Everybody in this family just brings people home, and that’s awesome, okay? Please don’t ever change that about yourself. I just-I thought we had something special, is all.” He says, sounding almost sad? Melancholy? 

“You are special.” You hate this. Jeff should never be sad; he should always be happy and smiling and joking. This is worse than seeing him after losses, worse than seeing him at low points in the season, that one game when he realizes that shit’s done and they’re just playing to keep playing now, that playoffs won’t be coming this year, again. “Jeff, you’re-”

“I’m in love with you.” Jeff says and it’s so straight-up, matter-of-fact, like it’s never not been a fact for him. “And I’m sorry I’ve fucked things up here for tonight and made this so awkward. I just- being here with you and your family just made me want you that much more.”

There’s so so so much you want to say to Jeff, but it’s like time is frozen. You can’t speak, can’t move, can’t do anything except look at him in awe, until he starts to move off your bed, when you reach for him, finally, resting your hand on his thigh, relieved when he looks back at you. “My dad thinks I’m an idiot.” You blurt out and Jeff just gives you a look. “I’m sorry; that wasn’t what I wanted to say.” You take a deep breath, trying to gather the jumble of thoughts in your head. “Or at least, not the only thing. He thinks I’m an idiot because he thinks you’re perfect for me and I didn’t see it. My whole family thinks you’re perfect- cute and friendly and nice- and god, Jeff, you are! You’re all those things!” He’s still watching you, with like, barely the smallest hint of a smile on his face. “I just-didn’t realize you were perfect for me until we came here.”

Now he’s full on beaming, dimples showing, and you don’t even realize that you’re returning the grin until his hand comes up to your face, thumbing at the corner of your lip. “I’m sorry I’m a dumbass.” You finish lamely, too busy smiling at Jeff. “Please kiss me so we can make sure we get biscuits.”

Jeff hums. “I don’t know if I can kiss you now and just...stop.”

“Well I’m not going down to eat until you do.” You say stubbornly. “And you’ve been hyping up those biscuits since breakfast.”

“Fair enough.” Jeff laughs and then you’re smiling into the best first kiss you’ve ever had, tangling your hands into his hair and wondering if you may actually end up missing the meal this year.

[moonbeamsung]

Winter Nights & City Lights

Because nothing says ‘Christmas’ like spending the big day (and not to mention the whole holiday season) in the Big Apple living with your high school friend-turned-roommate, Mark Lee.

member: mark (featuring johnny)

au: roommate!mark x gn!reader, college roommate au, christmas au, ‘the gift of the magi’ au/inspired

word count: 9.5k

genre: fluff, angst, slice of life

warnings: profanity, underage drinking, hangovers, insecurities, mentions of food and drink, money issues, embarrassing moments

author’s note: This fic is close to becoming my favorite that I’ve ever written. It’s also almost twice as long as I planned, not to mention that tumblr crashed right as I tried to post it so here I am, two hours later. Overall I had a blast writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it! Please let me know what you think, too! :,) Happy holidays! <3

taglist: @astroboy-lele​ @kisshim​ @radiorenjun​

network tags: @kpopscape​ @neo-constellations​ @starryktown​ @culture-cafe​ @dreamlab-nct​

“That parade was so cool! I mean, did you see the size of all those balloons? They were huge! I’ve never seen so many people all in one place before,” Mark chatters away like an excited child as you navigate through the crowd that always seems to grow bigger year after year, gathered along the curbs of the New York streets to watch the famed Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

“How are you not more excited about this?” He questions, and you stifle an amused giggle. “I’ve lived in the city for over a year, Mark. I’ve seen a thing or two.”

“Oh, right. I knew that.” The cold air only accentuates the blush on his face as he remembers that particular detail about you. It isn’t often that it’s demonstrated, however, considering you spend so much time cooped up inside of your shared apartment cramming in university work and studying. There are hardly any opportunities during the year to take in the sights of the concrete jungle you live in the very heart of, but luckily, one of your long-awaited breaks is coming up soon.

Thoughts of Christmas vacation are the only things keeping you going, along with countless cups of steaming hot coffee, as you prepare for exams in just a few weeks, weeks that seem to go by in a flurry of snow.

There’s less than three days left until your first one, but you’re nothing short of drained after pulling so many all-nighters, and you need a break. A breath of fresh air seems like just the cure for your burnout, so you slam your textbook shut and lethargically drag yourself off of the soft comforter you’ve been sitting on for the past two hours. You grimace at the deep imprint left behind.

Trudging through the living area, you knock softly on Mark’s bedroom door. A tired “Come in” sounds from the other side, and you push it open, immediately noticing his disheveled state. Eyes heavy with fatigue and lacking their usual sparkle of youthful innocence, he blinks back at you, “What’s up?”

“You look like you need a break just as much as I do,” you insist. His already-open mouth widens a bit more, “But... our first exam is on Monday, we can’t just—”

“Mark, come on, you’re one of the smartest people in our class. If anyone’s going to pass, it’s you.”

He huffs, “Maybe you have a point.”

“I do have a point, and you know it. A little walk in the park never hurt anyone, right?”

Mark rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, fingers raking through his dark locks before he musters up enough strength to push himself off of his bed and into a standing position.

“I’ll get my jacket.”

Central Park is a sight to behold on its own all year round, but something about the Christmas season makes it even more magical. You and Mark step at the same pace, your paths lined by metal benches blanketed in fresh snow. Even through the many layers of warmth you’re both wearing, the chilly air still nips at your skin. It’s Mark’s first time experiencing the holidays in New York City, and you’re determined to show him everything this real-life winter wonderland has to offer.

The story of how you two came to be roommates in the first place is an extremely lucky one. You met in high school, and had been part of the same group of friends along with six younger boys. Both Canadian, you’d been hoping to get into the same New York college since what felt like forever. The day that you received your acceptance letters in the mail was full of joy and celebration, but not even a week later, Mark got an unexpected scholarship to a local but prestigious university not far from where you lived that he simply couldn’t pass up.

Parting ways after graduation, you had thought you might never see each other again until you got a call from him. It was the day after your last exam of the spring semester in college and you were sitting on your two-person couch, feeling rather lonely. The number seemed too familiar, too good to be true, and scrambling to pick up the phone as it blared throughout your fairly small apartment, you answered with a shaky voice. Mark’s recognizable tone met your ears, and a wide smile met your face. Though he couldn’t see it, he could hear the happiness in your words.

As it turned out, his college had given him the opportunity to transfer to yours for the remainder of his four years, as their programs were closely linked and on similar levels. Graciously, he had accepted, and wanted you to be the first to know.

“So, uh... are you living with anyone?”

The question he dreaded asking more than anything else. Call him cliché, but he had the biggest crush on you in high school, much to his dismay and to the rest of his friends’ excitement. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to like you, but he feared that college could tear a potential relationship apart, regardless of whether or not you went to the same one.

As a result of this, he had never acted on his emotions. But he’s older now, and wiser, which leads him to believe that maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to maintain one, should he ever gain enough courage to ask you out.

“No, actually, I have my own apartment.”

Silence.

“...Are you looking for somewhere to stay?”

“Yes! Yes,” he replied a little too quickly, eager to accept what would hopefully be an invitation from you. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Well, my place isn’t the biggest, but you can live with me if you want to. Plus, we could split the rent between us!”

You’ve always liked Mark. He’s hardworking, kind, and humble, maybe a little too much of all these things for his own good. Even back in high school, you spent endless nights and very early mornings on the phone with him, trying to convince him to go to bed after he refused to stop studying. To reassure him that he did the right thing by ending that friendship, or to insist that he tell the teacher no one worked on the group project, so he did everything himself. You’ve been his shoulder to cry on for years, you’ve seen a side of him that he’s never been brave enough to show anyone else because they expect so much of him.

Mark knows he’s blessed to have had a picture-perfect childhood, a good family, and an education that was rigorous yet rewarding enough to prepare him for his next chapter in life. The pressures that came with being so lucky just got to him sometimes, and they made four years of high school seem more like fourteen.

You, on the other hand, didn’t quite have all the same luxuries that he did, but you still managed. He’s been there for you plenty of times, too. In your opinion, though, he’s the much more vulnerable one of the two of you, mainly to his cumbersome insecurities and shortcomings, however rare those shortcomings may be.

So in your mind, Mark Lee deserves the entire world and then some. The least you can do is share your apartment with him, either until he finds what you’re sure would be a much more desirable place to live, or if he wants to stay with you indefinitely.

What you don’t realize, and will eventually struggle to admit to yourself, is that your admiration for his perseverance and endless generosity is teetering rather precariously on the edge of blossoming into something more than just platonic.

“Sounds good, then. Thanks so much!” He had exclaimed, the sound of his pure excitement and gratefulness bringing a wave of heat to your face, and you were glad he wasn’t there in front of you to see it.

You talked a little bit more for the next few minutes, catching up and enjoying a lighthearted conversation about what you had both been up to. These sessions on the phone began to occur more and more frequently, turning into weekly, and soon daily, affairs. Mark planned to move in a couple weeks before school started again, giving himself some time to settle in and adapt to urban life in general. The calls became a highlight of your summer vacation, and every day without fail, you found yourself waiting to hear the unique ringtone you had set his contact to.

Less than twelve hours before Mark was scheduled to arrive at New York’s largest airport, you were on the phone with him just like always. The clock in your apartment chimed eleven o’clock, and as reluctant as you were to hang up, you knew you should turn in for the night. After all, the sooner you went to sleep, the sooner the morning would come. The morning you would meet him at the airport.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His voice was hopeful. Slightly unsteady, but hopeful all the same.

“I guess so. What time does your plane land, again?” You confirmed the time you had scribbled down onto a neon yellow sticky note a few days earlier as he repeated the short string of numbers, nodding to no one in particular. Why did you feel so nervous? It’s just Mark, you had told yourself.

“Have a safe flight!”

He bade you goodnight in return, accidentally throwing in a “sweet dreams” before he could stop himself. When you put your phones down, you were both too busy trying to calm your racing pulses, however, so it didn’t matter. Mark collapsed onto his bed, hand bumping his duffel bag and heaving a sigh. You sank down into the couch cushion, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the back of the furniture. Neither of you could find the strength to stand in those moments, scared that your legs would give in from the unsteadiness of your nerves, your hearts, your emotions.

A singular worry occupied both of your minds from that point on until you greeted him in the JFK airport terminal the next morning, shy smiles on your faces: is it dangerous to enter into the impending situation of living together? Are you really ready to be in such constant close proximity to the object of your affections, however oblivious you might be to them?

Before his brain could talk his heart out of it, Mark had wrapped you in a tight hug, extra thankful for the welcome since you were all he had here, in the city. You wouldn’t have missed his arrival for the world, and you told him so. You also wouldn’t have missed the chance to make him flush a deep but adorable shade of red, reaching from his rounded cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.

In your long-term rental car, you drove him back to your apartment, enjoying the quiet sounds of surprise and amazement that spilled from his lips, generated by the city’s sights. As you passed underneath towering skyscrapers, navigated bustling avenues, and caught glimpses of world-renowned landmarks that you both had seen only in the movies when you were younger, you just knew Mark’s eyes held their signature sparkle, despite your inability to see the dark brown orbs glimmer with wonder. You kept yours on the road ahead.

His first day was spent unpacking his suitcases and bags full of possessions, one of which was his most prized: an acoustic guitar.

It had been a gift from his parents when he finished the eighth grade, and all throughout high school, he had turned to music as an escape whenever he needed it. As any new musician does, Mark had played around with chords, experimenting and seeing what sounded good, and before you knew it he had composed a song. Another one followed, then another, and by the end of his freshman year he had written enough to fill an entire album if he so wished.

The guitar had heard every note, every lyric, carried every melody from his heart into the world. It had grown to be a part of him, a worldly sliver of his soul in the form of a simple musical instrument that could convey every hope and every dream, every concern or every frustration. Every love confession. Though that wasn’t saying much, since he only had eyes for you. You didn’t know it, but one of those songs was about you. For you.

You and Mark’s circle of friends tried to set you two up one day in the school’s band room after hours, with the excuse that the second-youngest of the group, Chenle, had forgotten his piano sheet music in there. They sent you to retrieve it, which you only agreed to do after being persuaded by the boy’s intimidating but still lovable pout.

With no sheet music in sight, your eyes landed instead on a diligent Mark that appeared to be the only sign of life in the room, plucking away at the strings as the sun set outside. You had sat with him for a while, neglecting your task and listening to him strum gracefully, softly murmuring lyrics that sounded like your name at one point. You didn’t think much of it, though, not making the connection behind the rest of the words coming out of his mouth and accompanying the chords. His love song was left unacknowledged by the subject of it themselves, and that was both the first and last time he ever attempted to confess to you.

He wondered if now that you were sharing an apartment, he would let something slip by accident. What would he do then?

University had other plans, though, and his fears were temporarily relieved. So fortunately and unfortunately, you were so occupied with schoolwork that trying to balance dating, or even mere thoughts of doing so, with all of your other responsibilities would have been exhausting, not to mention impossible.

Snapping out of your memory-induced daze, you realize that you nearly wandered off the path into a deep snowbank, only aware of this fact because Mark catches you by the wrist and pulls you back toward him to walk at his side. His fingers stay curled around your forearm as you approach a famous bridge, stepping to the side and gazing down at the icy waters below, calm and rippling with the chilly breeze.

“What do you want for Christmas?”

You honestly haven’t thought about it yet, so you can’t give Mark a definite answer. The same goes for him, both of you leaning against the brick railing in a comfortable silence.

In Mark’s mind though, he knows what he wants to give you: something to complement your own equivalent of his guitar, a large collection of handwritten letters and notes from your childhood and school days. Sentimental by nature, you had saved every colorful post-it note one of your friends would slip through the narrow slats of your locker, every birthday card received over the years, every thoughtful postcard from someone’s vacation.

Your favorites are undoubtedly the always-awkward Christmas cards that your friends’ families consistently mail out each December, by far the most humorous parts of your growing collection. You always found yourself chuckling at the pictures displayed on the front. Eyes bright with mirth, you would observe their forced smiles and arms slung carelessly over siblings’ shoulders, their eyes flickering between the camera and something going on behind it, probably the family pet getting into trouble across the yard. You pitied the photographers, surely beyond frustrated as they would try to get everyone to stand still for more than five measly seconds. Mouths were clamped shut and for a brief moment, the air was void of complaints of how itchy someone’s sweater was.

Then the camera would snap, capturing an image that was simply “good enough.” They’d plaster it on the card and in a few days, it would magically appear in the mailboxes of relatives and close friends. Grandparents would overlook the uncomfortable expressions and focus instead on how fast the kids were growing up. You didn’t blame them. Even in four years’ worth of cards, so much could change. In between fits of laughter, you’d stare in awe at the way your friends grew into their features, only becoming more handsome with time and some growing so tall that they even towered over their fathers. You always kept the letters they included, too, detailing the highlights of the year that was soon to come to an end by the time they dropped it into a nearby mailbox.

And like he could read your mind, Mark makes an offhand comment right then and there. “My folks texted me the other day to ask for our address. You know, for the Christmas card.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Shame I couldn’t be there for the family photos this year.”

“Is it really a shame, though?” You prod, tilting your head a bit at the boy. “You always told me you couldn’t stand waiting around for the so-called ‘right lighting’ and all that.”

“Well, I couldn’t, but now that I’m not there I wish I could go back to those days. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know?”

“Right,” you sigh, thinking about how the same saying could easily apply to the way you felt about Mark all throughout your first year of university.

You have a box, made of a dark mahogany wood and lined with elegant golden trim, where you keep all of these letters, these handwritten memories and souvenirs from some of the happiest moments in your life. A gift from a past Christmas, your family had your initials engraved onto the front in a loopy cursive font, making it truly unique and utterly irreplaceable. And, you’ll soon come to realize, valuable.

Mark remembers it well, remembers the many times you’ve shown him its contents, remembers how his eyes sometimes land on the delicate container resting beneath the windowsill in your room, sunlight catching the accents. He knows how much those letters mean to you, and he also knows how much you love returning the favor.

That’s why he wants to give you the tools you need to do just that, and to do it well.

You’ve always been one for writing thank-you notes for any and every gift you receive, your parents having ingrained the habit in you since you were very young. Slowly, crayons turned into pencils and lead became ink. To this day you remain unfazed by the increasing amount of yellowing papers residing in the letter box, but the words imprinted on them never quite fade, strong enough to withstand the test of time.

Too many times in high school Mark would find you, hunched over your dining room table in frustration with a stack of letters beside your arm that you deemed “failed” because your handwriting was bad, or something of the sort. Usually it was the other way around, him being the one in need of comfort, but on those days your roles were reversed.

He had always wondered why you didn’t have fancier supplies that were more suited to your task, but he supposes now that maybe it simply wasn’t an option for you and your family. So a stationery set seems like the perfect gift for you this year.

On a similar note, you’ve already decided what you’re getting him: a guitar case. You happened upon a sleek leather one while browsing the website of a popular music store, coincidentally with a location not too far from your apartment.

Now it’s no longer a question of what to get the other, but how. As university students living on your own, money is scarce. Unknowingly, you both contemplate this concern as you walk side by side, returning to the start of the path that you set out on at least a half hour ago.

This stroll of yours was supposed to clear your minds, but why are they racing even more than before?

There’s no time to worry now, though, and for the next week, your thoughts are forced to shift back to the topic of school and midterms and all your academic endeavors.

Your exam week is over before you know it, and the two of you return to your apartment after the last one only to collapse onto your respective beds, beyond exhausted.

The dreary Friday afternoon clearly calls for a nap, but unbeknownst to you, Mark decides to seize the opportunity that has so conveniently presented itself to him: a chance for him to go out and buy your gift without suspicion. He drops his backpack on the carpet next to his dresser and sighs, wondering if what he’s about to do will be worth it. But it’s you, of course it’ll be worth it.

Thus, his next move is done with a heavy heart. He’s been forced by a lack of funds to come to a decision about your gift, and a difficult one at that. The only thing he can think of doing to even come close to affording a nice stationery set is to sell some things in exchange for cash. Namely, the most valuable item he owns: his beloved guitar. He doesn’t really want to, but deep down he knows that a true friendship warrants the occasional sacrifice. He’s done some research on a nearby pawn shop, and however sketchy those kinds of places may seem, it’s his only feasible option at the moment, with just a week left until Christmas Day.

After making sure you’re fast asleep, he not-so-stealthily slips out of your shared flat, his actions far from silent but even so, you don’t wake up. Mark winces at the unintended high volume of pulling the front door shut behind him, sticking his hand into his jeans pocket and relaxing when he feels his keys at the bottom of the fabric compartment. Guitar strung over his shoulder by the flimsy, fraying strap, he sets off.

With his phone in hand and directions to the pawn shop displayed on the screen, he strides through the lobby of the apartment building and pushes the revolving door, stepping onto the busy sidewalk and into the cold winter air. Shoppers crowd the pavement with hands full of department store tote bags, crinkling loudly as they pass by one another. Shoulders knock together and heels click against the concrete, just some of the many sounds of the city that Mark is still growing used to hearing.

A few blocks and several wrong turns later, he finds himself on a quieter street, standing in front of the shop. It’s dimly lit inside and looks almost abandoned, the letters painted on the window chipped and faded from the wear and weather of past years. A soft bell rings when he lets himself in, searching for some sort of employee.

From behind a cluttered shelf a tall man emerges, the shabby name tag pinned to his vest reading “Johnny.” Well, he’s not some shifty-eyed, balding man wearing a muscle shirt stained with grease. New York continues to be full of surprises.

His dark hair looks neat, the jacket he’s wearing free of any wrinkles and face young but chiseled, high cheekbones prominent.

“How can I help you today?” Johnny booms, stepping behind the counter and absentmindedly sifting through some loose change in bottom of the cash register.

Mark gulps, “I’d like to sell something.” Still not entirely sure he wants to do this, he instinctively tugs on the strap resting atop the fabric of his wool jacket.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Johnny assures with a small laugh. “What did you have in mind?”

Taking a deep breath, Mark slides the guitar off his shoulder and holds it near his chest for a moment, before extending his arms out towards the counter.

“A guitar, huh? We don’t see many of these,” the tall man comments. “Are you sure? It seems pretty valuable to you in more ways than one.”

Mark’s fingertips trace the strings for the last time and he decides to just get it over with, before he can change his mind. His hands are shaky as he gently places the instrument down on the counter in front of Johnny, taking a step back once he’s done so. “I don’t have much of a choice. I need the money to buy a gift for my… uh, my friend.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, “Just a friend? Or a special someone?”

“They are special,” Mark confirms, noncommittal to either title that Johnny suggested.

“They must be if you’re willing to give up something like this for them. Okay, that’ll be…”

Johnny tells him what the guitar is worth, matching the amount with a stack of cash and a few old coins, rusty but still holding their value.

Despite the pain of letting something so meaningful go, a bit of joy creeps into Mark’s heart as he realizes that now he can give you a gift that will hopefully become just as meaningful to you as his guitar was to him.

He thanks Johnny and bids him goodbye, step lighter than when he entered, much to his surprise.

It’s the next day when you and Mark find yourselves getting into the Christmas spirit for the first time this season. After he had returned yesterday, you were still out cold on your bed, so he chose to follow your example and do the same. The both of you had slept the rest of the day and almost the entirety of the following morning away, waking up just before noon.

With a sudden burst of energy you spring up from the sheets, overtaken by your excitement for the nearing holiday as you dig out the artificial Christmas tree you had bought last year from your closet. Sure, it may seem lazy of you, but let’s face it: there was no easy way to find a real one in New York City, let alone lug it down the streets, through an elevator and down a narrow hallway to a door it wouldn’t even fit through.

Mark hears the loud rustling of various decorations as he begins to stir, leisurely getting out of bed and checking one of his dresser drawers to make sure he hadn’t merely dreamed up his shopping adventure of the previous evening. There the stationery set sits, tucked safely at the back of the wooden cabinet.

The bookstore he stopped at on his way back last night had many different options to choose from, so he made sure to get one that both matched your box of letters and reminded him of you, with its color scheme and style. A surge of pride brings a smile to his features, pleased with his choice, and he pushes the drawer shut before joining you in the living area.

Your knees brush as he sits down next to you to help unpack the large but manageable box, taking out the tiers of the tree to eventually stack on top of one another. Working more quickly than usual (and probably necessary, there are six days left after all), you assign Mark to stringing the lights across your small balcony while you finish setting up the tree. You knew you shouldn’t have let him do it alone, though, because when you look over at his progress you find more lights wrapped around his body than the metal railing.

“Do you need a hand?” You question, holding back a laugh at the way the cord restricts his arm movements to the point where he can’t even reach for the handle on the sliding door.

From outside he opens his mouth to reply, but pauses, looking down at himself and the mess he’s made of the lights before meeting your eyes once more. His voice is muffled by the glass, but you hear him shout playfully, “I’m the tree now! We don’t need that one.” He tries to gesture to the one you’re currently decorating, but fails, and this time you aren’t able to contain your amusement.

“Let me help you,” you offer, joining him on the balcony and helping him untangle himself from the glowing strands. “Thanks,” Mark replies, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck. With your combined efforts, you manage to thread the string of lights through the railing with little to no mishaps, and both of you continue decking out the apartment with other seasonal items for the next several hours.

At some point during the afternoon one of you decided to connect their phone to a speaker and play some music, all Christmas songs of course. As the classic version of “Jingle Bell Rock” begins to blare throughout the living room, Mark abandons his task momentarily to walk over to you. He extends a hand down to you, sitting on the floor, and you accept the invitation to stand up with a questioning look.

“Dance with me?”

It’s hardly a platonic request, Mark realizes once the words leave his lips, but even so you don’t shy away, glancing down at your feet with a slight trace of bashfulness in the action.

He intertwines your fingers somewhat loosely, placing his non-dominant hand on your waist and beginning to sway, slowly at first but then his movements become more exaggerated, shoulders tilting dramatically to one side after the other and straying from the rhythm of the music. You join Mark in drawing out the jesting movements, losing yourself in laughter and leaning forward to bury your face in his shoulder, the heat of your breath hitting his skin through the thin t-shirt he’s wearing. In one last attempt to keep the joyful smile on your face, he steps back a bit and holds your wrist above your head to twirl you in a circle.

The electric guitar in the song fades as you collapse onto the carpet, recovering from your fit of giggles. The sun has begun to sink in the sky, you can tell by the gold and orange glow that your apartment becomes bathed in as it sets, inching closer to the horizon and eventually becoming hidden by tall skyscrapers in the distance.

Satisfied with your progress so far, you both decide to call it a day, though in truth there aren’t many decorations left to put out. A few stray ornaments and some garlands remain, still packed up in boxes that you would need help reaching. You’re also eager to get your mind off of the way your heart was palpitating as you danced with Mark, your roommate and friend but nothing more, nothing less. You have enough to worry about at the moment, not wanting to add potential feelings for the boy into the mix. Shit, you think, you still need to buy his gift.

“What should we watch?” Mark asks, scrolling through the list of movie choices on the TV screen.

“I don’t really care, anything’s fine.”

His finger presses a button on the remote to select a film at random, the intro playing as you scan the refrigerator shelves for a frozen meal. Hopefully it’s not one of those cheesy holiday romances.

Settling down on the couch a few minutes later, you with the warmed-up container in your lap and Mark holding a cup of ramen noodles, both of you fall into a comfortable chatter about the movie. Thank god it’s a comedy.

Occasionally you find yourself diverting your attention from the harsh display and directing it over to the panes of floor-to-ceiling windows, where you watch more and more lights flicker on in the distance, illuminating the urban landscape as night falls. The view is breathtaking, but so is the way your face softly glows with their warmth, even from blocks away. Not that Mark would ever tell you that, of course.

“I’m going out!” Mark hears shuffling from outside his bedroom the next morning, your voice instantly bringing him to his senses. Curious, he shoots out of bed and flings the door open to find you, one arm stuck through the sleeve of your coat and the other buried in a bag, but it’s not the one you usually bring when you leave the flat. Eyes wide and panicked at the boy’s unexpected appearance, you clutch it to your chest with a visible amount of difficulty, Mark notices.

“Where are you off to?” He squints at the brightness of the living room, the early morning light pouring in through the glass on the far wall.

“...Maybe I can’t tell you,” you respond with a huff, slinging the heavy bag over your shoulder and pulling the rest of your coat on.

“What do you mean, you can’t—oh.”

“Nice going, genius,” you shake your head, feigning disappointment. “It’s not like it’s Christmas this week or anything.”

“My bad, sorry.” Mark winces and rakes a hand through his bedhead, abashed.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

With that, you step into the hallway and offer a parting smile over your shoulder, shutting the front door behind you.

At least your being out of the apartment gives Mark time to wrap your gift. All he has to do is figure out how.

Johnny gets a familiar feeling when he sees you enter the pawn shop, fumbling with your things and reluctantly gazing at whatever’s in the tote you’re holding. Are you also about to make an exchange you could potentially regret?

“One second,” you excuse yourself as you step up to the counter, placing the heavy bag down and removing the large item from inside: your letter box, minus its contents. Of course you would never get rid of those, but despite the letters and notes being so special to you, the box they were always kept in is also a significant part of your attachment and the memories you hold dear.

With a thud you set it down, Johnny glancing between the hesitation on your face and the wooden container on the counter in front of him. “Let me guess, you want to exchange this for cash?”

“Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I—” You pause, biting your tongue. “Hold on… Look, I know this is a pawn shop and that’s what people do here, but how are you so sure?”

Johnny’s gut tells him he shouldn’t give away the fact that a boy wearing the very same expression and with the same sense of purpose and determination was in here just two days earlier. So he corrects his mistake with a simple “Lucky guess” and a hearty chuckle.

Without Johnny even asking, you tell him that you’re also looking for some extra cash in order to afford a gift for your “friend,” and you say the word with so much conviction and certainty that it’s almost laughable. The information given to Johnny helps him fully connect the dots in his mind, realizing that each of you are the one the other talked about.

Before handing you the money, Johnny tears off a sheet of paper from a nearby notepad and asks you to fill out your information, most importantly your address. He has to lie a bit, saying it’s for contact purposes, but his heart is in the right place nonetheless. Just in case something goes south (and the sinking feeling in his stomach tells him that it will somehow), doing so gives him an option, even if he doesn’t know what that option might be yet.

“Thank you, Johnny, and Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” He returns your wish cheerfully as you push the door open to leave.

“Good luck finding a gift for your ‘friend,’ too.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks when you see his teasing use of air quotes, but still smile.

On your way back to the apartment Mark texts you and asks you to check the mail, saying he forgot to do so yesterday. When you arrive in the lobby and make your way over to the cluster of mailboxes, you’re instantly shocked to find a large cardboard box shoved into the small cubby with your and Mark’s name on it. You’re already struggling to carry the guitar case you bought for him, so you decide to make a second trip later.

A few moments after stepping out of the elevator, you knock on the door to your apartment, hoping with all your might that Mark won’t actually open it and instead just answer with a “Come in” as he always does. Your wish is, thankfully, granted, but it’s quickly followed by “Wait, wait, wait!” As it happens, he just finished wrapping your gift and needs another minute or two to tuck it away somewhere until the big day arrives. “Can you stay out there until I say?”

“Sure,” you reply, “but I’m going to have to ask you to do the same.”

“How about I stay in my room while you come in and do… whatever you need to?”

“Sounds good.”

With his door closed, Mark hears the front one open and shut as you enter. Trying not to make any noise that would give away the size of the item you just bought, you finally settle for hiding the leather case underneath your bed, concealed by the drapery attached to its frame that hovers just above the floor.

Mark had hastily placed the now-wrapped (though not elegantly so) stationery set back into his dresser, so he’s already out of his room by the time you leave yours. “Any letters or packages?” He questions when he sees you.

“Oh, right!” You snap your fingers, “We do have a package but my hands were full, so I’ll bring it up right now.”

“Eggnog?”

While the box had looked fairly ordinary from the outside, upon opening it and glancing at the return address you learned it was actually anything but that. Mark’s and your parents had sent a holiday care package of sorts, including both of your families’ Christmas cards and a carton of eggnog, along with some small gifts that are meant to be saved for the morning of the 25th. Also mixed in are a few small decorations (not that you need more), some baking supplies complete with a copy of the recipe for the cookies you make every year, and a soft pair of mittens for each of you. He hopes you don’t realize that one of the items is a sprig of mistletoe.

“You don’t like eggnog?” You ask, stunned. Mark shrugs, “I don’t really care for milk but it’s the thought that counts, I guess.”

That evening you and Mark take another stroll, this time choosing to stay on the streets and admire the festively adorned buildings and shops as you pass by them. Admiring Christmas lights at this time of year is nothing new to you and Mark. In fact, when you lived in Canada you would do the same thing. The only difference is that back then, it involved driving through quiet suburban neighborhoods and not ambling through crowded city streets and alleyways on foot.

Snowflakes begin to cascade from the heavens as you make your way back around to the block where you live. Mark sticks his tongue out to catch one of the small crystals, and it immediately melts in his mouth, eliciting a high-pitched laugh from the boy. Snow is also something you both are more than used to by now, having grown up with white Christmases all your lives. It makes you wonder if the holiday season would be the same without it.

“You know what we should do?” Mark turns to you just as you’re about to enter the apartment building again. “Go ice skating at Rockefeller Center.”

“Mark, c’mon, you know stuff like that is overpriced. And besides, I can’t skate to save my life. Remember—”

“That time in sophomore year? You bet I do,” he laughs as he remembers how you clumsily fell not even two seconds after stepping onto the ice with your skates, and then refused to let go of the railing for the rest of the day. The elevator whirs to life, climbing floor after floor with ease.

“Hey,” you offer, “we can still go and watch people skate, I’m sure there’s some place to sit.”

“And we can look at the Christmas tree, too,” Mark adds, eyes brightening at the idea.

“Right. I forget you haven’t seen it in person before.” The cabin doors open with a ding and you step out, your eyes landing on the door to your apartment a few yards away.

When you turn on the TV, Mark becomes mesmerized by the movie that’s playing, since it takes place in NYC and he recognizes so many places from actually being there. He scrambles to remove his jacket and beanie, plopping down onto the couch once they’re safely hooked on the coat rack.

Watching him, you sigh. Would anything really change if you were dating? Assuming your feelings were returned, of course, but you can’t imagine that your relationship would differ much. You certainly wouldn’t go on extravagant dates, or buy expensive gifts for each other, but that’s not what love is about, anyway. With the exception of a few extra hugs and the addition of kisses, along with more forms of physical affection in general (actually, scratch that, Mark’s always been awkward with those kinds of things), you’d still be by each other’s side just like always.

As you sit down next to him and feel an arm wrap around your shoulder, you don’t shrug it off, instead embracing the warm and fuzzy feeling in your heart that you can’t blame on the holiday season this time.

Mark’s glad, too. He’s been working up the courage to do that all day.

Late that night, you quietly tiptoe into the living area, retrieving an old box from your move-in last year that will fit his gift perfectly, and won’t give away what’s inside. Your hands fold and tape the wrapping paper with care, tying a neat ribbon once you’re done. Sure, you had to give up something that meant a lot to you in order to afford Mark’s present, but the gains outweigh the losses. You find comfort in imagining the way his face will surely light up with pure joy on Christmas morning, drifting off to sleep with ease once you’ve hidden the rectangular parcel back underneath your bed.

A few days pass and soon it’s the 23rd, and you join Mark at the railing of the ice rink, of course on the side with solid ground. “Ice is solid ground,” Mark had corrected, but you stood firm in your words. “More like slippery ground, if you ask me.”

Luckily you had been allowed to stand here for free, because god only knows what small, simple thing someone would be charged for in New York. It’s happened to you before, and you’re not even a tourist.

Mark’s dark eyes gaze up at the 75-foot-tall tree in wonder, pupils dilating and reflecting the tens of thousands of bright lights strung through the dark green branches. They seem to sparkle with sheer amazement. Just then someone skates a little too close to the section of railing you’re leaning on, startling Mark out of his LED-induced daze and putting the most adorable look of surprise on his face.

His focus shifts to the people on the ice, wearing sweaters and jackets of every color imaginable, and the sight is still as beautiful as the looming Christmas tree above. He notices some couples, holding onto one another or skating hand-in-hand, and it makes him wonder if that could be you two someday, at a future Christmas, or if it’s an idea absurd enough for an alternate reality.

Mark sees you shiver out of the corner of his eye, and it’s his cue to suggest returning home for the evening. In a very cliché and boyfriend-esque gesture he offers you his jacket, but you decline, insisting that it’s not far and assuring him that you’ll be okay.

Back in your heated flat, you twist open the lid of the eggnog carton and pour a small glass for yourself. “Are you sure you don’t want some?” You call out to Mark from the kitchen, snatching one of the cookies you made the other day and finding a paper plate for the thin shortbread wafer, lined with elegant white icing and dusted with sprinkles.

“I already told you, I don’t like eggnog!”

“Have you even tried it before?” Mark grumbles at your nagging. You really sound like his mom right now.

“No…”

You appear at the other end of the couch, holding out a small cup with just a sip or two of eggnog in it. “Try it. You never know.”

He knows you won’t leave until you see him lift it to his lips for yourself, so he does. Immediately the sweet drink overwhelms his taste buds, and also leaves a slight sting on his tongue.

“What’s in this stuff?” He coughs, nose scrunching a bit from the strong taste. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t hate it. Following you back to the kitchen, Mark pours a full glass this time, already gulping it down.

“Uh,” you scan the ingredients on the back of the carton once he sets it down on the counter, “milk, cream, sugar, eggs…”

“...whiskey? What the hell?”

“It has alcohol,” Mark slurs, his giggling interrupted by a hiccup. Having never drank before, he’s undeniably a lightweight, and even a little bit can get him wasted almost instantly.

“Mom and Dad must have mixed something up, because they definitely didn’t mean to send us alcoholic eggnog.”

Sure enough, back home in Canada your parents are wondering why they only have the kid-friendly stuff in their fridge.

Mark latches on to you, arm curling lazily around your waist. Great, he’s one of those people that gets clingy when they’re drunk. “Try some,” he whines, nuzzling into your shoulder a little.

“Are you crazy?”

“No one will know,” he laughs, hiccuping again. Giving in to his adorably drunken pout, you take one sip from your original glass but no more, an unpleasant buzz taking over your whole mouth.

Not looking forward to finding a hangover cure on Christmas Eve of all days, you pray that you’ll stay sober enough to take care of the tipsy boy, who’s currently pressing his face into the back of your neck and—shit, did he just kiss you there? You really don’t need this right now.

“Mark, you’re drunk, okay? Stop it,” you caution.

“But I love you,” he murmurs, warm breath fanning your skin, and you want to kick yourself for almost saying it back. Does he even mean it, though? Alcohol makes people say crazy things, things they don’t mean, so you shouldn’t get your hopes up. You unhook his arm from your torso and turn around to push against his chest, frustrated. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He seems to have just remembered something, because he ignores you and instead goes over to where the care package was still sitting, digging into the bottom and pulling out something you hadn’t noticed before. “Look,” Mark declares in a nasal voice, “mistletoe.”

You exasperatedly hang your head, desperate to slam it into the nearest wall. With much difficulty, you eventually manage to get him tucked underneath the blanket, leaving a glass of water on his nightstand for when he wakes up. “Get some sleep,” you say simply.

He tells you goodnight with a fond mumble of your name as you shut the bedroom door behind you. Rubbing your eyes, you yawn before turning off the lights and heading to bed yourself, trying to block out the events that had just taken place.

Your head aches when you wake up the next morning, and you feel like garbage, so you can only imagine how much worse Mark must be doing. Quickly chugging a water bottle, you reluctantly go to knock on his door, hearing a pained groan once you enter. He’s sitting up, chin resting in one hand and the other anchored onto the heavy comforter covering his legs.

“How are you feeling?” The obvious question with an even more obvious answer makes Mark wince. “Awful.”

“Sorry.” It’s silent for a moment, Mark pressing three fingers to his throbbing forehead and you staring aimlessly at the wall. “I knew that eggnog was a bad idea.”

“You were the one that told me to try it!”

“I didn't know it had alcohol in it!”

You sigh, dejected. Something tells Mark that your head isn’t the only thing hurting.

“Hey, I know that look. What’s wrong?” He prods, voice soft and gentle and altogether unlike how it had been last night. You meet his eyes for a moment, about to speak but biting your lip at the last second. Mark’s brain puts two and two together at your expression.

“Oh god, did I say something? Do something?”

“Yeah, actually,” you reply in a huff. “First you kissed my neck, then you told me you loved me, and then you held up a clump of mistletoe and implied that we should kiss underneath it.”

His memories of the previous evening are all a blur, so he truly would have no idea what happened if you hadn’t just said something. Mark knows he screwed up, bad.

You tense when you feel him place his hand over yours, but you don’t snatch it away. After collecting his thoughts, Mark clears his throat.

“Look, I… I know that’s not the best way for you to find out how someone feels about you. But I’m completely sober, and I can tell you that I meant what I said last night.”

“You promise?”

“Promise,” Mark replies.

“...Can you say it again, then?”

He blushes, “That I…?”

You nod, the corners of your lips lifting into a small smile.

“I love you,” Mark tells you for the second time in the last 24 hours, but this time you know you can believe him. The pain of your hangover goes away for a moment as he takes your jaw in his hands and connects your lips, just barely retaining the buzz of the alcohol but not enough to bother you. Slowly you kiss him back, sinking down onto the mattress beside him.

Mark pulls away for air a few seconds later, thumb grazing your cheek lovingly. “Does this mean we’re—”

“Dating? If you want it to, then sure,” your finger traces swirly shapes on the small of his back while you assure him that neither of you need to rush into anything if you aren’t ready.

“I don’t want things to change, though.”

“Who said they have to? I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and we’re already pretty close, you know? Making it ‘official’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘different,’ so...”

Mark hums in agreement, “You’re right. Okay, I can live with that.”

“And I can’t live another second without food. I’m making breakfast,” you quip, reverting back to the usual banter between you and him.

“I’ll cook the eggs,” Mark insists as you both make your way out of his bedroom and into the kitchen.

“You absolutely will not!”

The night before Christmas had started out unlike any that you’d ever experienced before, with you confronting your now-boyfriend about a drunken love confession the previous day. But now, it’s ending just like every year, with you cozy and curled up in front of the television as the last few segments of the news play.

It’s the coldest Christmas Eve in years. You learned this after the meteorologist had informed viewers of the record only a few minutes earlier, inadvertently planting an idea in Mark’s mind.

Right as you’re about to turn in for the night, setting a plate of decorated cookies and a glass of milk down on the end table (as is tradition in your families, no matter how old you are), Mark holds out his arms like a child might. “Can we…?” He asks in a quiet voice, nervous to finish his sentence.

“Huh?”

The boy inhales sharply, “It’s freezing. Do you wanna sleep in my bed tonight?” His cheeks flush a deep red that’s almost the color of Christmas itself.

You’re slightly taken aback, and then you remember it’s just Mark. “Sure, why not,” you answer with a light shrug and a smile on your face.

“But no funny business,” you inform him as you climb under the sheets together, instantly happy with your choice to join him because double the people means double the body heat. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mark replies, pecking your lips. His wrist finds the warm skin of your neck and you flinch away.

“Your hands are cold!” He just snickers at your whining.

The two of you fall asleep more quickly than you ever have on Christmas Eve, usually overcome with nerves and excitement, but now, as two college-aged kids, you’re comfortable and not rushing the morning’s arrival at all, content in each other’s arms for the moment.

You feel like you’re 10 years old again as you rush into the living room at 8am the next day, the bright, early morning sky lighting up your entire apartment. At the base of your Christmas tree sits a humble amount of presents, composed of the two that you bought for each other plus the half-dozen small ones from your parents.

You hand Mark one of the cookies from the end table and grab one for yourself, taking a bite of the sweet treat as you sit down and motioning for him to do the same.

“Open yours first,” you say eagerly, referring to your gift for him. Mark shakes his head and points to what he got you, “No, you go first.”

“Fine, we’ll open them at the same time.” Mark nods, satisfied with the compromise and handing you both the packages.

“On three. One, two…”

The final number barely leaves your lips before you both begin tearing into the paper excitedly, Mark reaching for the flaps on the box and you unfolding the tissue paper.

When you each see what the other gifted you with, it’s completely silent, save for the TV playing a Christmas Day special in the background.

He gazes blankly at you, licking his lips as his eyes dart between the guitar case and your expression.

“I appreciate the gift, but I…” Mark pauses, unsure how to tell you this.

You don’t say a word, raising your eyebrows as a signal for him to continue.

“I sold my guitar to pay for your gift,” he breathes.

“You what? Mark, that guitar means everything to you! Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re worth it, of course!”

“Well, I did the same thing,” you break the news with an unamused expression. “I sold my letter box to pay for that case.”

His eyes become impossibly wider at that, nearly bulging out of their sockets. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You groan and lie down on the floor, beyond discouraged. “Let me guess, the pawn shop on 23rd?”

“Yep.”

“Hey, wait a minute.” An idea hits Mark like a rush of cold air. “Maybe we can work out a deal or something.”

“Meaning?”

“We go back and see if we can trade in our new gifts for enough money to get our old things back.”

“One, I doubt it’s that easy, and two, pretty much everything is closed on Christmas Day.” You’re half tempted to laugh because of how ironic this situation is.

Mark sighs, “I guess that makes sense.”

“We can still try, though.”

Sure enough, the pawn shop is dark, even more so than usual, and the door doesn’t budge. A sign taped to the window from the inside confirms your fear: Closed on Christmas. Gloved hands pressed onto the glass, you and Mark admit your defeat. You had been bested by the giving spirit of the holiday season, almost too generous for your own good.

But it’s the message that the day itself stands for after all, for putting aside material value and doing something out of the kindness of your heart just to make someone else happy. That’s what it’s all about, and you and Mark had personally experienced it this year.

So you’re surprised to find two boxes leaning on the wall beside the door to your apartment the next morning, shapes oddly familiar. Could it be?

Just hours earlier, the hallway surveillance cameras caught a tall man striding down the corridor, carrying those exact packages under his arms. In the video he pulls out a scrap of paper and a pen from his coat pocket, scribbling a short message before tucking it underneath the ribbon of the larger parcel and leaving the building just as quickly as he came.

You and Mark’s only clue as to who had returned your items is a messy ‘J’ at the end of the note attached to the box containing his guitar. Exchanging knowing glances, you both grin, squeezing your intertwined hands with the same name in mind.

...So what if Johnny had to take a bit of money out of his own paycheck to cover the cost of the items? Besides, it’s Christmas. And his boss never has to know.

[fbfh]

thankful for my (found) family - demisquad + reader thanksgiving special

2.4k

platonic everyone + reader, implied future/potential leo x reader if you look real close, thalia has a girlfriend that I had to make up bc they never mention hunters of artemis but go off rick, calypso is not included bc she acts more like an antagonist imo, gif doesn’t have anything to do with it besides nostalgia lmao

happy thanksgiving <33

You and Leo are cooking in the kitchen 

You have been all day

The doorbell rings, and Annabeth goes to answer, binder full of travel plans in hand

“That should be-”

Clarisse enters with a loud greeting and a hug to everyone in arms reach

Percy’s loud cheers echo from the living room as he calls out the new score of the football game he’s keeping everyone updated on

She drops her bag, hopping over the back of the couch to watch with Percy

“Woah woah, catch me up Jackson! What'd I miss?”

Hazel is helping Rachel make cute diy table settings and party favors 

Rachel, as with most art projects she takes on, is very focused on making it Martha Stewart levels of cute and amazing 

Frank and Piper are keeping everyone updated on the parade 

Frank pops down the stairs, calling out, “The last performance just ended, the dog show starts in 5!”

Hazel drops what she's doing and exclaims, “THERE’S A DOG SHOW?!” 

She runs upstairs to watch with Frank, her yellow dress swishing behind her

You chuckle, calling over to Annabeth as you mix batter in a bowl, " Hey Annabeth, how are the travel plans looking?"

She shuffles through some papers in her binder

"Magnus and Alex had another layover, but they should still be able to make it in time. Thalia and her hunter friend will be here in 10, and Travis's flight got delayed because of a sudden snow storm."

"Really?" You reply, "This time of year? That's pretty ironic for a son of Hermes..."

"I know, I'm looking at some shuttle services to see if that would be faster…" Annabeth replies

Nico enters, stealing a couple appetizers, "This is so stupid, I could just go get him."

Will, right behind him, eats the appetizer Nico hands him and replies, "No you can't. Doctors orders."

Nico starts to protest 

Will shoots him a look 

"Boyfriend's orders."

Nico tries in vain to stare him down,  "… Va’ a farti fottere." he says, cracking a smile

"Love you too," Will counters 

You and Leo shoo them out of the kitchen before they steal more of your recipes

Jason and Grover walk by with a bunch of pillows and blankets, setting up guest rooms. 

Grover calls through the pile of fluff he's carrying, "Hey, we're gonna need a few more pillows-"

Jason, over his pile of bedding, corrects, "A lot more!" And Annabeth runs over to help carry some of the blankets he's about to drop

"-A lot more pillows…"

You grab your keys

"okay uh… Grover, do you want to head to the store to get some more pillows-"

Leo, vigorously sautéing something adds over his shoulder, "And basil! And, uh… red wine vinegar, olive oil, and potatoes."

You rip a piece of paper off the notepad on the fridge and scribble a quick list 

You're probably going to need some more ice, too 

Tyson, very distressed, holds up an empty container of mellowcream pumpkins, declaring, "THERE'S NO MORE BABY PUMPKINS!" :(

you loudly add candy pumpkins to the list

Rachel approaches. 

"Are you going to the store?"

"Yeah," you reply, "how's crafting going? You need anything? "

"We're almost out of glitter and mod podge. It's not looking good. We could use some more fake leaves, warm toned glitter, and rhinestones - the nice ones."

Grover looks slightly lost 

You narrate as you add to the list, "Fancy rhinestones, mod podge, fake leaves, red, yellow, orange, and brown glitter…"

Tyson, still distressed, yells, "AND BABY PUMPKINS!"

:(

You hold up the paper, "Already on the list, bud, Grover's gonna get them!"

"What if he gets the wrong kind?" Tyson asks 

You, turn to Grover quietly, "Grover, can you take Tyson?"

Grover nods

"Hey Tyson, Grover has a lot of stuff to get, could you go be his shopping buddy? That way you can pick out the right baby pumpkins."

He doesn't look convinced

He wants to keep working on a secret project he’s been doing out by the garage

"And…" you add, sweetening the deal, "you can get two candies for the way home."

He agrees

You turn to Grover; "I'll call you guys an uber-"

"I'll drive."

You all turn around, shocked to see Reyna awake. 

You thought she was still passed out 

She showed up at 9am and immediately fell asleep from traveling all night 

"Reyna, hi! Are you sure-"

"We'll be fine, I need to stretch my legs a little." She proves by rolling her shoulders

"Okay, as long as you're sure," you hand her the paper, re-entering the kitchen

She takes the paper from your hand as you shut off the beeping timer and grab a pair of oven mitts from the drawer

Reyna examines the paper, "...This is a weird list. Where are we supposed to get all this?"

Leo moves to the side as you pull out the rolls from the oven, using tongs to set them on a wire cooling rack, "Maybe target?"

Leo, still very focused on cooking, announces, "If you get me generic brand spices I will burn this place to the ground."

"O-kay," you turn back to Reyna, laughing, "there's a Wegmans and a Joanne's right next to the TJ Maxx, you can probably find everything there."

"We'll be back within the hour." She states, taking your keys. 

Rachel meets her at the door. "Here, use my card. Also, make sure you get the flat backed swarovski crystals. And please pick some glitter with a nice color shift!"

You remind them to call or text with any questions and be safe

Heading back into the kitchen, you fill up a big bowl with carrots, celery, cucumbers, and mushrooms

You grab two cutting boards, knives, peelers, and a plastic bag for the peels, tips, and tails

You set it all down on the coffee table in front Percy and Clarisse

“Can you guys get the relish tray started?” 

They agree, and immediately return to yelling at the referee

You shake your head laughing, and head back to the kitchen

“How we looking, Sparky?”

“Stuffing cups just went up in the oven, pie crust dough is chilling, and the green beans are almost done sauteeing. Rolls are cooling - could you stir the cranberry sauce? - and… the turkey is going up as soon as the stuffing is out.”

You stir the sauce as you continue talking

“Great! We’re making good time so far. Oh, I found a recipe for brown sugar pie, which Frank requested - apparently it’s a Canadian Thanksgiving thing - so I figured if you’re doing turkey I can handle the pies.” 

He pours some cooking wine into the pan, and shakes it as the alcohol burns off

“Sounds like a plan, babycakes.” 

You laugh at the nickname, and grab butter, salt, some herbs, and a stick blender to finish the potatoes

A few minutes later, you hear the door open 

Reyna and the boys are back already? That was quick

You wonder if they need help bringing groceries in

“Eeeey get over here you knucklehead!” 

Bags drop, and you hear Jason laughing in protest

You poke your head out of the kitchen, and see Thalia with Jason in a headlock

In spite of the fact that he’s about half a foot taller than her, she’s still noogie-ing him, pretending she can’t hear him objecting through his laughs

She finally lets him go, greeting everyone as he adjusts his glasses

She bear hugs Annabeth, punches Percy in the arm, and high fives and hugs pretty much everyone else

You run up the stairs to the guest room Grover was setting up before he left

You finish making the bed head back down, meeting Frank and Hazel on the way 

"Oh, Hazel, what did you think of the dog show?"

"It blew my wig!" She says giddily 

A confused smile settles on your face

"It was awesome and she loved it," Frank translates smoothly

He and Will are understandably best at deciphering 40s slang

Thalia is introducing everyone to Amber, a girl she’d met on the hunt and become really close with

You greet her, and turn to Thalia

“Your room is all set up if you wanna get settled in,” you turn to Amber, “and yours will be ready soon,” 

They share a look

“Oh,” Thalia starts grabbing their bags, “that’s fine, we can share a room. We share a tent on the hunt all the time, right Ambie?”

"Oh,”

And then it clicks

“yeah, however you’re comfortable.”

You grab one of the bags, and help them upstairs

“Why don’t you guys take a while to settle in, I’ll tell the others you’re resting.”

They thank you, and you start to leave

“By the way,” you poke your head back in, “you two seem really cute together. Welcome to the family, Amber.” 

She blushes and Thalia gives you an appreciative look

You nod and head back down

You let the others know they’re going to nap for a little while, and not to wake them up

“Hey, any travel updates?” You ask Annabeth, on your way back into the kitchen

“Alex just texted, she and Magnus are finally on their way, should be here in the next few hours. As for Travis…” 

She holds out her phone, showing you Travis’s tiktok

He’s filming the mirror in the airport bathroom

“So uh, my flight’s delayed, I’m bored, I’m gonna fuck with some people,” he holds out a hand full of stickers that look like outlets

He records himself putting them around the airport, then gets people’s reactions when they try to use them

He ends the video asking for more prank ideas

You look back up at Annabeth, holding back a laugh, “Seems like he’s doing okay,” 

“Oh,” she replies, “that’s not all.”

She scrolls up, showing the next prank video where Travis goes around the airport having fake phone conversations to get people’s reactions

Conversation topics including ‘I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but slept with your grandma’, ‘hey bro I can’t come to the party, also turns out I’m going to be your stepdad’, ‘hey dude remember that old lady we used to cat sit for? Well, I found out I got chlamydia from her, so…’, and ‘yeah man, I’m so excited for the poetry slam. Also, it turns out my jazz fever is actually syphilis.’. 

Your hand flies over your mouth, trying not to laugh loudly enough to wake Thalia and Amber

“Yeah,” Annabeth says, fighting her own laughter, “he’s doing okay.”

You start putting together ingredients for pie filling

“That is the most in character thing I could have imagined,” you laugh, and Annabeth shows Leo the videos

“There’s a bunch more, too,” she adds, “Around making tiktoks, he found a bus heading this way. He’ll be here in a few hours.” 

“Cutting it close,” you muse, filling pies, “I’m glad he’s not stuck at the airport though. How about Connor?” 

“Haven’t heard much from him, but he said he'll be here in time for dinner."

A little while later, Thalia and Amber re enter, joining Percy and Clarisse in the living room 

The door opens shortly after, and Tyson enters, arms full of containers of candy pumpkins 

Reyna and Grover are right behind him

You take Grover's bags, announcing that Thalia got here a little while ago

He bleats excitedly and runs to hug her, Reyna right on his heels

Piper and Tyson bring in the rest of the groceries

Tyson sets down the last bags in the kitchen, looks out the window, yells, "IT'S ALMOST SUNSET!", and runs back out into the back yard, presumably to finish his mystery project 

Everyone eventually makes their way to the living room, nibbling on appetizers and watching classic Thanksgiving specials 

The food is almost done, all that's left is decorating the pies and a little tidying up 

You walk over to Leo, placing your hand on his shoulder 

He looks up at you

"Why don't you go take a quick shower and change before dinner," you muse, knowing the hoodie and jeans he's been cooking in all day isn't the outfit he'd picked out, "I'll wrap things up in here,"

He thanks you, dramatically presses a kiss to your forehead, and exits the kitchen 

You decorate the pies distractedly, catching the doorbell right before the second ring 

You smile at the people about to enter

"Annabeth," you call, "Magnus and Alex are here!" 

She drops what she's doing, and runs over to greet them 

Leo is back down stairs a short while later 

His brick red hoodie replaced with a burgundy one - his fancy hoodie as he calls it - a heavy flannel layered on top, and a beanie pulled over his almost dry hair

His pyrokinesis makes you forget how cold he gets sometimes 

You're about to go upstairs to change out of your cooking clothes when Tyson enters dramatically 

"The surprise is done!"

Everyone files outside to see what Tyson made as he leads you all out to the garage 

Perfectly attached to the side, is a very small horse stable 

"Wow!" Percy starts, "Great job, dude!"

Tyson is beaming as he's showered with confused praise 

"So uh," Percy ventures, "what did you build it for?"

"Maybe something like this?!" Descending voices declare in unicen 

Travis and Connor land in front of you on no other than Blackjack

Everyone erupts into cheers

“I thought you were stuck at the airport! What about those tiktoks?”

“Saved in my drafts, baby!” Travis laughs

Percy greets Blackjack and everyone else heads back inside with Travis and Connor 

You run upstairs to shower quickly and change, and are back downstairs just in time for appetizers and drinks 

You're about to take a sip of coffee when the door opens 

An irregular set of footsteps echoes into the room, along with a familiar voice 

"Ah, children, I hope there's room for one more," 

Everyone turns in surprise as Chiron enters the room 

After lots of warm excited greetings and making sure he has a warm cup of tea, he settles in to chat for a while

"I was on my way to meet with my more, ah, rambunctious cousins, but I couldn't let a day like today pass without stopping by."

After two cups of tea and lovely conversations, Chiron heads out to meet up with the other party ponies 

Thalia, Percy, and Will get all the food on the dining room table while Rachel makes the finishing touches to the centerpieces 

Everyone finds their seat, and you make the first toast

"I think I can speak for everyone when I say I'm thankful for you guys - my found family."

Every glass is raised

You can all drink to that. 

[popculturebuffet]

Christmas Carnage: A Christmas Horror Story Review (Comission for WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy people! Halloween’s in the rear view and that means we’re ready for the next big holliday.. Christmas! And thanksgiving too I guess but since my producer Kev coudlnt’ wait to unwrap his presents, he’s comissioned a whole month of holiday horrors for ya’ll to enjoy that i’m dubbing CHRISTMAS CARNAGE. It’s all christmas, all horror, all this month. Well not all this month I still have frogs, ducks and some other stuff to attend to. But the point is it’s gonna be good. 

Starting us off we have an anthology film, a format for film i’ve grown fond of. Wether it’s a bunch of stories around the same period of time that zig and zag out of one another like Love Actually or Dazed and Confused or just straight up a bunch of stories held together by a wraparound of some sort like Tales From the Hood or The French Dispatch, I love this kind of film. So I was excited to dive into this one. 

From what I could gather up, ACHS was thought up by the producer of the Ginger Snaps films, Steven Harvey who also directed the film along with Grant Harvey and Brett Sullivan who had both worked on the Ginger Snaps series, a series I do need to check out at some point as it sounds great. The writing was handed off to the guys who wrote a series called Darknet, a canadian horror anthology> Did this rag tag canadian crew make a christmas classic or another lump of coal? Join me under the cut to find out!

Content Warning: This review has mentoins of forced abortion. Feel free to sit this one out if you need to. I love you all. 

So before we get into four tales I need to talk about the films... creatttttivveee.. no that dosen’t feel right... baffletageous? Closer... Baffletastic. Oh yes that’ll do.

I want to talk about this films baffletastic decision on how to present the four shorts. As I showed earlier most anthology films either have the shorts on their own, sometimes with a cool wraparound story like Tales From The Hood’s mortuariy or french dispatch’s having the story presented and narrated as pieces for the titular magazine and bookending each story with the editor of the magazine talking the piece over with his writers. The other option of course is to have a bunch of interconnected stories that weave in and out of each other sharing characters as the night goes on. You can even do that with the previous format, simply having characters from the previous story show up in another one. There’s a lot of clever ways to do this sort of film and it’s part of their charm. 

This film.. chooses to take four self contained films, chop them up, and intersperse them, having one continue when another one’s scene ends.  While the films DO have connections, their small ones that would’ve been better served if the films were all seperated and simply connected by our wraparound DJ’s antics. Instead we’re stuck watching the shorts as if I was watching a film on tv and someone took my remote and bonked me over the head with it every couple of minutes to turn on another movie that just happened to be in the same genre. It also wrecks the shorts pacing as the School and Changeling shorts are slow paced and built on tension... but then cut to another story entirely which ruins what their going for. It’s messy and disoreinting. To show just how it feels here’s a little experiment I did. I’ve taken four, unrelated christmastime comic strips and chopped them up like this flim does to give you a sense of just how jarring this feels. 

I think you get the point. Now here’s each of the original strips as they were intended. 

I did this both so the original authors, in order Berkely Breathead, Randy Milholland, Lynn Johnson and Scott Kurtz could have their strips properly presented.. and so said proper presentation can prove my point further.  It dosen’t RUIN the stories but it still hurts them to be presented this way.  But even if the format’s janky, are the stories any good? well let me tells you

Dangerous Dan:

I named each story myself because the filmakers didn’t for no apparent reason. Like you don’t have to have titlecards but simply name them in the credits.  It’s not that hard. 

So the wraparound is DJ Dangerous Dan trying to inject some Christmas Joy into the town of Baileyville, which one year earlier had a massacre happen in a school. Naturally one of our stories is about said massacre, but for now we’re just focused on good old William Shatner, ham, egotist, astronaut and a delight in the right work. He’s the only actor here who has a bundle of experince, as most of the actors were ameturers and unknowns. Sadly he just dosen’t ham it up the way you’d think, especially since his first segment has the character getting drunk and his segments are just kinda there. Again if this film had proper framing he’d be a great intro to each segment, giving us some yuletide stuff releated to the story... that then contrasts with how dark the story actually is.  It’s not hard. He also gets told “Fuck Christmas” by his weatherman, and reports on a situation at the mall. Gee I wonder if this is setup for later.

Now for the stories i’ll be following them in MOSTLTY order of introduction, the one exception being the Santa segment which gets a teaser to start the film but dosen’t properly start till after the other three segments and ends up closing out the film so i’ll be saving it for last. 

A Child Was Unborn This Christmas Day:

So instead we start off with this segment. Three bland teenagers, Molly, a redhead, Ben, your standard movie NEEEERRRDDD who clearly has a crush on Molly, and Dylan, their friend whose just kinda there and whose girlfriend Caprice...

Gets them the keys to sneak into the school to break into an old convent beneath their school where last year two grusome murders took place. One of them is Dangerous Dan’s nephew as we later find out. Caprice was going to go but has to go with her family instead, which leads into her segment which we’ll get to in a moment. It once again would’ve worked better had we seen her segment later instead of the next scene, allowing this shitty passion play to continue and THEN find out what happened with her later. 

The three break into the school because Molly wants to investigate the murders because she’s doing a school project on the murders and wants to get good footage since she can’t use the police video. Because taking murder tourisim videos is the fastest way to get an a..... in getting your ass thrown out of the school. Nothing about this makes sense.. like was she ASSIGNED to talk about the murders or did she choose that thinking “Gee the teachers sure want to be reminded of two of their students getting horribly murdered in the basement” 

The characters themselves.. are nothing. Molly wants to do some murder tourism, Ben is there and is sorta implied to have feelings for Molly and Dylan is also there. I don't’ blame the actors as it turned out I had seen Dylan’s actor before in Degrassi: The Next Generation as Zayne. And you may scoff but the directors and writers on degrassi gave him way more to do and an actual character to play, and I owe the show an enternal debt of gratitue for opening my eyes to the struggles of the trans community and their existance. Before then most things i’d seen with trans characters had used them as cheap punchlines.  I will always give them credit for that any time I get the chance to. 

Here though the cast really just dosen’t pop, and given they’ve gone onto other works. Sure some of it is soapy stuff like the 100 and riverdale, where Molly’s actress played the wife to a cult leader who tried escaping in a rocket while wearing an evil kenevil jumpsuit, just after Betty had to defuse a bomb. What i’m saying is I don’t hold their performances against the actors and I really should review Riverdale at some point and wish I was watching that instead as I haven’t seen it, only heard of the madness secondhand. but it calls to me.... it calls to me. 

Anyway the plot proper has our heroes breaking into the school, dodging a teacher, and then breaking into the basement. Say do you guys like bland teenagers slowly walking around poorly lit hallways for about 15 minutes?

Well neither do I but I’m being paid to review this so I had to put up with it. It honestly reminded me of another horror “classic”: 1313 Haunted Frat, a film by a guy who clearly makes films just to put attractive young men in their underwear, that was literally just a guy walking around in his underwear for all but maybe 10 minutes of a 70 minute movie. This movie is that minus any novelty value from “someone actually paid for and filmed this and amazon actually agreed to put it on their service”. With this it’s just footage that’s so dark and incomprehensible at times I swear this is how Hans Moleman sees the world. 

Eventually plot DOES happen, centered around a rumor Zoey spouts off earlier about a teenager who had a virgin pregnancy but no one belivied her. Via some jump scares she finds out the poor woman was forced into an aborition by the nuns. I scoffed at nuns actually doing this.. and still do, as it turns out there’s a LONG history of sexual abuse of nuns including forced abortions in the catholic church. So this nightmare is possible, it’d just likely be a corrupt preist who actually did the impregnating ordering these women to do it. 

But the ghost of that girl is still around and posseses molly, as it turns out the killings were her host being rejected and Grace. said teen, killed them out of spite or something. It’s pretty vauge ghost stuff. She has Molly throw herself at Dylan and when he turns her down due to having a girlfriend, he gets killed offscreen, though when we later see his impaled corpse which is a pretty neat pratical effect. 

She’s more succesul with ben, who gladly does it, and the whole scene is genuinely creepy, using the fact Grace is using molly like a puppet and barely emoting for maximum horror. Ben somehow gets Grace pregnant because magical ghost pregnancy, while Grace is horrified at what they did. They realize what’s going on, and what the bloody message on the wall seen at the start of the short when they watched polcie footage meant. The ghost ends up killing ben because he has a weapon? I guess. Either way he’s cruficied and flops around goofily so.. that sure did happen. Molly is let go and I count the moments till I get paid for this one

This segment is awful. What a shocker I know I hid it so well, but it’s long, padded, the characters arne’t fleshed out enough to care about and even it’s one effective scene is still awkawrd as all hell. This segment is just terrible what’s next

The Changeling

From the worst story to the best we have the Changeling. We follow a family of three: Scott, a troubled black police officer whose on leave due to being heavily rattled by the events of last year, as he was the cop on the scene and in the video the three doucheketeers watched, his wife Kim who he has a strained but loving relationship with and their cheery son will. So he decides the best way to fix his strained relationships is to commit some gold old fashioned family theft and take a christmas tree from someone’s off limits property. I would also like to point out that this family are the only black characters in the entire film and clearly the directors did not think their implications through at alll when casting this segment.  But Will happily partakes in his dad’s tree theft, but soon wonders off and goes missing, causing his parents to fight till they find the boy in a tree. Nothing weird about that no sir. So they take their boy home only for Will to start acting a bit weird: he dosen’t speak any more, only responds to orders, and eventually only to Kim’s orders, and when eating eats incredibly fast and when Scott tries to get him to slow it down slow it way down he plays a good old fashioned father son game of stabby hand. Will wins because he has the stabbing fork. 

Scott and Kim argue over it, Kim takes a VERY long shower that wouldn’t be out of place on skinimax, and eventually Will opens all the presents and Scott gets out his belt in response. Again.. they REALLY shoudl’ve thought this segment through more. 

Still the aftermath is well done: Kim is disgusted whlie Scott poors over the files, clearly troubled by what he’s done to his son and repentant. Will’s response to this.. is to choke him to death off screen and decorate his dead body in decorations. Tis truly the hap-happiest season of all to commit patracide. 

Kim is horrified and having gotten a call earlier from a creepy weirdo saying the kid isn’t hers, the same creepy weirdo that owned the tree they stole, finally listens to him. The creature in there is not Will but a changeling, the mythical being that replaces one’s child. It’s a fascinating myth but not an often used one in horror, and I question why as there’s a LOT you could do with it and this short shows how, with the sheer terror of bringing your child home only to find your child is missing and someTHING has taken his place. 

Creepy Old Man explains he’ll switch real will for fake will and Kim tries to bluff the creature. She then stuffs her not child in a sack and leaves her husband’s corpse to rot because it really ties the room together. 

Shockingly the creepy old bearded man in the middle of nowhere who can somehow get anyone’s phone number wasn’t being fully truthful: not only does he not know where will is, but he starts beating the changeling the second he gets the sack and his clear abuse makes it VERY clear why the changeling acted why it did: it ate so fast because it likely never got to eat actual food before, it followed simple commands because likely it had that beaten into it, and it attacked Scott because he reminded him of his abusive master. It turns will’s death from a monster attack.. to a tragedy of a creature who killed a semi-innocent man simply because he didn’t know better and who simply wanted a better life, a human life instead of being treated like a thing just for existing. 

While Kim dosen’t share my sympatheties, she does have a gun and waves it at Creepy Old Man, eventually accidently shooting him as the guy approaches her like the creepy old guy he is. He dies thankfully and the creatures are freed... and Changeling Will genuinely thanks her by returning the original will. The Creatures are free to find the life they wanted, hopefully without kidnapping more children it’s a coin flip, and Kim and Will can go home. I’ts a bittersweet but throughly satisfying ending. 

The Changeling is, as I said the best short: it’s mood and pacing are top notch, it’s concept is great and it finds a clever way to tie it into christmas. It’s sad, horrifying and suspensful and it easily could’ve been i’ts own much better movie. As it stands though it’s the best part of a thorughly medicore film. It’s got great acing and unlike most of the segments actual directing, with suspensful shots panned around. It’s just that good and hopefully someone recuts it as a standalone, more people need to see this segment and JUST this segment. But I’m being paid for the whole film so...

A Very Krampus Christmas:

Caprice returns alongside her bratty younger brother, annoying gold digging mother, and scam artist dad whose driving them up to their rich old aunt’s house to try and milk some money out of her, to everyone else’s annoyance. Spending time with these characters is just as fun as it sounds and when they arrive the aunt’s butler is just as annoyed with them as I am while the aunt herself is standofish. Eventually though the kid among them breaks a figurine and the Aunt tells them to skeedaddled, leading to more arguging and yelling in the car. Seriously the first 10 minutes of this short has a lot of first world problems complaining and me praying for the krampus but the krapmus won’t come yet. 

The Krampus does finally come though and wrecks their car before slowly attacking the family, grabbing the little brother when he’s alone

And slashing the dad in his tummy. The family books it to saftey but the mom wants to go back for her boy despite him being red snow by now. The father however feels if they confess their sins, the Krampus will go away and reveals his company’s turned into a ponzi scheme all to keep his wife and he’s clearly going to prision, forgetting he’s rich and white and thus has the cheat codes for the system. His wife refuses and instead wants to go back only for the Krampus to bust in because he’s not a vampire and thus chruches don’t hurt him, and kill the dad, then the mom while she protects Caprice, like she shoudl’ve done when she was born by not naming her Caprice but better late than never amirite? Caprice runs and eventually reaches the aunt’s house, only to encounter the crampus. luckily she manages to stab and shoot the motherfucker killing him and revealing the butler. Her aunt invites her in and we get the full story: the figurine had nothing to do with the curse , it was a red herring. Sadly it was not Red Herring, he was in tahiti back then selling faulty watches. Good guy that Red Herring. Turns out people simply turn into krampuses if they get sufficently upset enough at someone because this world apparently runs on hulk rules, so butler guy’s anger at their shitty behavior caused him to hulk out and murder almost all of them.  Caprice realizes that her aunt sent them away, while KNOWING this guy was angry over their behavior and willingly turns Krampus , ending her aunt and gaining a new super power. So ... kind of a wash for her I guess? She lost her family and boyfriend but she can turn into a Krampus now, so.... fair enough?

This segment.. is okay. I’ts nothing special and i’ve heard the film Krampus released a few years later does a similar theme far better, and i’ll find out in a few weeks when I cover it. It’s quickly forgetable and not really much of note. It’s not great like changeling, terrible like the ghost story or batshit insane like our final tale. it’s just kinda there. Speaking of our final tale

Santa Claus Conquers the Evil Dead

This one is just pure scholocky fun till the twist ending. Santa Claus is at the north pole getting ready when one of his elves dies and gets infected, something that shouldn't happen given their all immortal. Turns out his elf got infected with some sort of virus by his old friend the Krampus, and it’s spreading. It’s basically the evil dead, same shit talking from the possessed and blood from the mouth, but with less gore effects and more elf murders. Really this plot is just santa killing a lot of creepy infected elves for 20 minutes and eventually mrs. claus too when she succumbs. And while quality wise it’s okay, it was clearly shot in an office building and it shows, it makes up for having eh quality by just being batshit: santa having to axe down his elves and fight his way through is awesome and like Changeling should be expanded into it’s own feature.

Though it turns out theirs a twist: after the cover battle with the Krampus, which is also cheestastic, we find out Santa is actaully Phil from earlier, who was said to be playing santa at the maul, snapped and thus acted out the night Santa went crazy but in real life. he’s sadly gunned down by the cops as Dangerous Dan reuminates. This twist is pretty good.. it’s somewhat telegraphed if your paying close atention ( I was not) but it reconteulizes things interstingly, Either versoin of this, disturbed santa man killing people in a delusion or the evil dead but with santa claus would be awesome and combined their pretty fun > At the very least cutting back to this madness is a nice repreive from the lesser part sof the film and a needed shot of adrenline

Final Thoughts

This film.. is not very good. It’s segments are in order, utter garbage, a hidden masterpiece, oh right that one and schlocky fun. It’s far from the worst i’ve seen, but it had so much POTETIAL to be a classic that it’s really fucking sad to see the awful results. it’s not even bad when it’s bad in the fun ways. i’ts just two mediocre films choppily edited into a good and so bad it’s good film.  Hopefully someone else takes a shot at this. 

Next Time: GOLLLLDBERRRG goes on what will hopefully be a much more fun murder spree!

If you enjoyed this review consider joining my patreon and thanks for reading. 

[some-kindofgnome]

august slipped away

i. ii.

Otherwise known as the Thanksgiving fic.

characters: mirio x f!reader

wc: 2.6k

warnings: smut (18+ please!), quirkless AU, angst, Thanksgiving long-distance woes, mirio’s very ugly little subaru

notes: Happy Birthday @drapetomaniac​! I’m so glad I was able to get this finished on time. I’m so grateful to have met you on this lil site, so consider this my birthday gift to you! 💖  This serves as a part ii to my Kinktober fic “with autumn closing in.” It got ANGSTY. I hope you love it.

on the prompt: “It’s November – the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines.” This beautiful line was written by Lucy Maud Montgomery, a wonderful Canadian writer, in her novel Anne of the Island, published in 1915.

MASTERLIST

Mini Prompt Event!

It’s November – the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines.

Despite the traffic, the drive into your hometown’s been remarkably quiet. You’ve hitched a ride with a friend, and with Starbucks in your cupholders and weeks worth of laundry piled into her trunk, you ride back in near-silence.

She knows what’s on your mind as she pulls off the exit, the all-too-familiar sign that marks your hometown sending a rush of anxiety straight to your gut.

You’re not looking forward to this weekend as much as you should be. You miss your family- your parents, your dog, your bedroom- but there’s another gaping question mark that fills the rest of the weekend, too harrowing to ignore.

Mirio.

After a very tearful goodbye at the end of the summer, things were good between you. You texted all the time and called him whenever you could. You even wrote letters back and forth in the first month of the semester. Mirio’s were never decked out in stickers or lavish penmanship like yours were, but they teared you up all the same.

But college is difficult. And you’re both starting this year, so it’s been a lot for both of you to adjust to. You and Mirio always kind of sailed through high school without too much extra studying, so the amount of work it takes to do well in college has been a massive wake-up call.

It’s putting a strain on your relationship with him. Slowly, at first.

You were too busy with papers and assignments to call during the week, but he was too busy with practices and games and training to call on the weekends. The letters dwindled in frequency and then ceased altogether. Now you’ll go days without hearing from each other at all.

There’s never been a doubt in your mind that long-distance was going to be difficult. But you’re pretty sure it’s not supposed to feel like this.

Your friend drops you off in the driveway and squeezes your tight shoulder. She promises you that it’s going to work out, one way or the other. Then she pulls away to continue to her own city and you climb up the front steps with two garbage bags of laundry in your hands.

You’re attacked by your ecstatic dog at the door, and your mother doesn’t follow far behind. The house is already fragrant with the spiced aroma of baking pumpkin pies, and your mother cries as she hugs you tightly. So do you.

A few minutes later, with your first load of laundry spinning away, you flop onto the couch. To your delight, there’s a text from Mirio. You’re kind of hoping to see him tonight, but you’re not sure what time he was planning on getting into town. Still, a text from him seems promising.

Home yet? It reads.

You’re trying not to let it show that you’re brimming with happiness.

Just got in, you text breezily, curling your knees to your chest with a little smile tugging at your lips. It feels so good to talk to him again here, knowing you’ve got nothing but time to spend with him this weekend.

You text back and forth a little bit, soft little messages about how good it feels to be home and how glad you are that he got home safe. The last message you type out feels indulgent but so good, and you send it with every expectation of an immediate response.

Wanna come over?

Read 7:12 pm

Dull silence persists from your phone. One hour goes by. Two hours. The temptation to send him another message is overwhelming. You’ve been well past the point of avoiding double texts for as long as you can remember.

But this feels… different. Like you shouldn’t bother him. Like, somehow, that’ll only make the silence worse.

So you don’t. Fair enough.

The next day, you’re up to your elbows helping your family get ready for dinner. Your mom has an unfortunate habit of pulling out the stops, but the meal turns out fantastic. Dealing with your extended family is as draining as always, but you’re texting Mirio every so often under the table and he seems happy enough to respond.

You think about bringing up his sudden disappearance last night, but figure he’d been preoccupied with his family. Tonight, his texts are in good spirits.

It’s not until you’re curled up in bed with a belly full of turkey that you try again.

Wanna do something tomorrow? I have brunch in the morning, but I could meet you after.

Read 10:36 pm

Nothing.

Fool me once, you don’t want to let yourself think. But Mirio’s pretty good at putting his phone down when it’s time for bed, so you tell yourself he’s just gone to sleep. He’s gone to sleep and in the morning you’re going to wake up to a sweet little text from him with fresh plans from the afternoon.

Unfortunately, the trend continues. You catch and hold his attention for a few messages a time every day, but every time you mention meeting up in person, you get radio silence. It’s gotten to the point where you know it’s on purpose, and yet every time you fail to confront him, your embarrassment deepens.

Mirio doesn’t play games with you. It feels wrong, to have him jerking your heart around like this. But you give him the benefit of the doubt all weekend.

Finally, it’s Sunday. Your washed, folded laundry is packed neatly in the hallway. You’re finishing up dinner and your family knows, at this point, to keep quiet about Mirio.

You’ve given up on seeing him entirely.

As your family cleans up, you try one more time. You know you shouldn’t. You have every expectation of being treated the same way you have all weekend- why should this time work out any differently?

But you do it anyway.

Hey… I know you might be busy with family stuff, but we’re both going back tomorrow so tonight’s kinda the last chance I can see you…

To your surprise, just a few minutes later, you get a reply,

Want me to pick you up?

Within half an hour, his familiar little Subaru is waiting for you in the dark. Your heart clenches tightly, watching him parked in the driveway. You haven’t seen him in months.

You’d expected a happier reunion.

Still, there’s a sort of lightness that tugs at your heart as you pick your way down the front steps. You tug open the passenger’s side door- the inside of the car is toasty from the rattling little heater that’s always smelled just a little bit burnt.

Mirio has a sad sort of tired smile on his lips, but you can see the relief in his gaze. You’ve almost forgotten what he looks like in real-time like this.

“Hi,” you gasp, almost shyly. You tug the door shut and he shifts the car into gear. You can’t help the little clench of anticipation you get when he puts a hand on the back of your seat to glance over his shoulder.

When he looks back at you, he looks a little brighter.

“Wanna get some coffee?”

He takes you through the Starbucks drive-thru and buys you both iced coffees. The ice rattles cold and sweet inside the cups as he drives you out of town, taking you up the winding road to the point. Neither of you says a thing. You haven’t planned a thing, but you don’t need to.

As you draw closer to the familiar little lookout, your stomach tightens.

Something feels very wrong about the way he’s treating you. By the time he pulls off the road and rolls along the battered gravel path, you’re almost in tears.

You should’ve seen this coming the first time he left you on read. Mirio’s never left you on read before.

“Well,” you mumble, your heart pounding in your throat. You know you’re going to regret this, but it’s killing you to sit in silence. You reach into the centre console and grab your coffee, shaking it weakly in front of him.

“At least you bought me a coffee before breaking up with me.”

Mirio reacts visibly in the dark next to you.

“What?” He looks over, dark eyes shining with betrayal. His blonde brow is firm and set, but there’s genuine surprise in his expression.

“Break up with you?” His voice is trembling. “W-why would I-“

Now you feel even stupider. The tears come, hot and fast and unrelenting. Your next words come in a pinched sob.

“Why wouldn’t you?” You’ve cried like this in front of him before, but this is the first time it’s ever seemed embarrassing.

“I tried to see you all weekend, all I wanted was to see you.” You’re sniffling wildly, and you knee open the glove box because you know he always keeps tissues there. “I missed you so much and-and you wouldn’t even talk to me.”

He whimpers your name, quiet as a prayer. He’s tearing up, too, gripping the steering wheel tightly with his face screwed up in pain.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I was… I thought…”

He’s pausing like you’re going to interrupt him, but you don’t. He bows his head, continuing.

“I was afraid to see you,” he confesses, “because I thought you wanted to break up with me.”

The relief you expect doesn’t come. Instead, a deeper, sicker pain wraps itself around your heart.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you don’t talk to me anymore,” he ejects. “Not in the same way. I… I know you’re busy, and I know I’m busy, but… things just felt different. Ever since Homecoming, I-I just…”

Homecoming was the one weekend that Mirio had been to visit you since the summer. That was a reunion that felt as good as it was supposed to. You’ll never forget bounding out of your residence hall to find him there, leaning against the edge of his little car like it was a souped-up Harley Davidsen. You’ll never forget the way he laughed when you launched yourself into his arms.

But that was where the bliss had stopped.

Homecoming was a bad weekend for him to visit. You should have seen that coming. You were busy with your brand new friendships, hopping from party to party. And though you were both all smiles when he was climbing into his car again on Sunday night, you’d known he left feeling a little neglected.

“Mirio,” you sob, reaching for him. You pull his eyes to yours with a hand under his jaw- a little unshaven, scratchy- and his cheeks are wet with fresh tears of his own. “I missed you like hell. I love you. I mean that every single time I say it. And I-“

You hate this kind of thing with him. Neither of you takes conflict very well. And though there have always been fights, this is the largest reckoning you’ve ever had.

“I had so many plans for us this weekend,” you admit, and the hurt takes over. Because no matter how you resolve this, that’s time that you can never get back. “And now I have to go back tomorrow and so do you and this is all we’re gonna have.”

“I know,” he sniffles right back. His voice is weak. Trembling. You haven’t seen him like this since his dog died, right after you graduated high school. “God, I-I… I’m so sorry.”

He’s reaching for you now, winding his arms awkwardly over the centre console to pull you close. You have to lean way over but you do, burying your face into the chest of his jacket.

You both sob openly, for nobody but yourselves.

“I don’t want it to be like this,” you plead. “I don’t want to be fighting for things to feel right. I can’t take four more years of this, Mirio, I can’t.”

He’s stroking a palm down the back of your head now, burying his nose into your hair.

“It won’t be,” he promises. “I’m gonna try harder. I’m gonna- I promise.”

“It’s both of us,” you reply. Your voice drops as you start to, slowly, regain control. “It’s me too. I need to try harder, too. I don’t want it to end like this.”

You nose your way to the surface, peering up at him. You both look ridiculous, faces pinched and teary. But none of that matters when you’re leaning up and he’s leaning down and he’s kissing you, all soft and loving in that way that used to make you melt.

It still does.

You let it grow heated, let yourself grab him by the cheeks and pour all of the desperate longing you’ve been doing into this kiss. It becomes very clear to you that you’re not going to be getting out of this car a single woman. And relief spreads warm and gooey through your gut.

“I wanna,” you whisper, pulling back with your eyelashes fluttering. Mirio cups your cheeks and warmly swipes the last of your drying tears away. He leans in and nuzzles the chilled tip of your nose with his.

“You sure?”

You bite your lower lip and shoot him a quiet, sly little nod.

This time, when you climb into the backseat together, no blankets or pillows are waiting for you. But you don’t care. You let him splay you across the narrow back seat, hitching one knee up over the backrest and stretching the other one out alongside him.

It’s a good deal colder this time around. And you can’t wait to get to each other. Your clothes are barely shoved out of the way by the time he’s nudging his stiff tip against your folds. You’re pushing the long hem of his sweatshirt out of the way for him, and he looks down at you with such determined adoration that you wonder why you ever doubted his love in the first place.

He eases into you slow and gentle, just like the first time. Very unlike the second time, harried and rushed under the covers of your rickety dorm bed.

You drag his lips to yours while he bottoms out inside you, wrapping that free leg around his hips and keeping him buried tight.

He fucks you just like that, in deep, tiny little strokes that nudge the tenderest parts of your belly and send pleasure trickling right down your spine each time. He kisses every part of your skin that he can reach, whispering his devotion to you over and over and over again until his voice breaks. Until all he can do is grunt and sigh and shake above you as he pours his climax into you, bringing you to a quiet little peak beneath him.

You stay tangled for a long time, despite the cramps quickly developing in your forcibly angled limbs. He lays between your thighs, listening to your heartbeat as your lazy fingers drift through the sweat-damped strands of his golden hair.

“Hey,” he murmurs warmly, lifting his chin to find your eyes. “I wanna drive you back to school tomorrow, okay?”

“What?” You frown. “Mirio, that’s two hours in the opposite direction for you. Don’t-“

“Please,” he insists, and something in his tone makes you stop. He slides his hands up your sides. “I want to. I didn’t… I should’ve seen you more this weekend. Let me. Please?”

You give a breathy little laugh, laying your head back against the edge of the seat. Your heart throbs with that all-too-familiar warmth.

“My mom’ll be pissed,” you tease, and you feel him grin against your chest.

You’re going to be okay.

[pappydaddy]

Opposites (s.h.)

  A/N: This is for the request asking for a Steve x Reader where the reader was like Jade West from Victorious (also known as one of my bi awakenings). I am sorry for the delay, this Thanksgiving was crazy (I’m Canadian) and there was so much to do! I tried my best to write the reader like Jade without having her not vibe with the kids bc we all know that the kids come first with Steve. Now, without farther ado, here is the request! Hope you like it lovely Anon!!

Edit: I changed the name bc there are so many fics under the name Opposites Attract😅.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

show/movie: stranger things 

requested

warnings: fluff??

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation

- not my gif -

  Opposites attract. Something everyone has heard before. It can be applied to magnets or to relationships. While there was no denying that when it came to magnetic pulls, opposites did indeed attract, but Steve was never too sure about it in a relationship sense. He had always gone after girls who fit his lifestyle. Parties, the popular crowd, the girls who fit in to societies expectations. It wasn’t until he had met Y/N that he had realized that maybe everyone was right. Just like magnets, opposites attract did apply to relationships as well. He could not think Robin enough for introducing the hard headed, sometimes (all the time) scary girl who Steve would have never approached. A goofy guy such as Steve paired with the rocker chick who intimidated nearly everyone? Steve had never thought that would be possible outside of the movies. 

 Now, here Steve sat on Dustin’s couch as he bounced his knee, the party bickering all around him as they tried to figure out what they were going to do today. “Why would we watch movie’s all day, we always watch movies, Dustin!” Lucas exclaimed from where he sat on the floor next to Max. Dustin looked up from the pile of VHS tapes he had already selected before hand. 

  “Because movies are awesome and clearly the best option right now,” Dustin answered as if it was obvious. “Nobody can agree on one place, so the logical solution is to stay here and watch a movie.” He shrugged, shuffling through the tapes once again, ignoring Lucas’ groans of protest. Steve tuned them out the best he could as he watched the front door, willing for it to open revealing the two missing members of the party. 

  “Dustin has a point, Lucas.” Max piped up, not even looking up from watching the titles of the movies Dustin was debating on. 

  “Why,” Lucas asked simply, turning his head to face her in an exaggerated fashion. “Just why,” He repeated. “Why do you think it’s better to sit here and watch movies all day as opposed to going to a bowling alley?” 

  “I’d rather watch movies than go to a bowling alley, but we are clearly forgetting the best option brought up,” Mike inserted himself into the conversation again, banging his pointer finger against the coffee table before continuing. “The Arcade. There is a huge re-opening deal and a ton of new games!” 

  “We’re not going to the Arcade, it’ll be too crowded to have fun as a group!” Dustin turned Mike’s idea down once again. 

  “And sitting in a dark living room all day watching movies will be a fun group bonding experience?” Mike snapped back, sending the three boys into a tailspin of bickering. Steve and Max both heaved out sighs at the same time just as the front door opened, Robin walking in first followed by Y/N. The two girls ceased their previous conversation, blinking at the chaos ensuing. 

  “Finally, what took you two so long?” Steve leapt from his spot on the couch, rushing over to the pair, his eyes wide with relief. Instantly, he wrapped Y/N in a tight hug. The girl tensed for a second before melting into his hug, patting his back with one had. She wasn’t much for hugs, not being an overly affectionate person in general, but she couldn’t help but to lean a bit closer to Steve whenever he was affectionate towards her.           

  “Sorry, Stevie-boy,” Robin apologized half-heartedly, plopping herself down in the spot he once occupied. “Y/N got caught up trying to decide which Stephen King book to buy and then she saw the Stephen King display they had put up.” 

  “Ended up getting Cycle of the Werewolf, it came out a few years ago, but I was too wrapped up in the release of Cujo to focus on his book releases,” She told him, not even waiting for him to ask. She pulled out of his grasp, reaching into the bag she carried to hand him the book. Steve shivered slightly, not understanding how she could read or watch Stephen King’s books without getting the slightest bit scared. “But I couldn’t pass on the great deal they had on, they had Danse Macabre for half off so they could get make room for another shipment.” She pulled the second book out of the bag, walking passed Steve who read over the back of the book he held, eyeing the words as if they would jump off the page at him. 

  “That’s great, Y/N, but we need you and Robin to help us decide what to do for the rest of the day,” Dustin interrupted the girl, earning a glare from her (which he ignored). Y/N sat on the middle cushion beside Robin who dug through her own bag to retrieve her own book: Dark Companions. “Lucas wants to go to a bowling alley-”

  “I would rather stab my eyes with rusty scissors then go to a bowling alley.” Y/N cut him off, flicking through the pages of her new book. Dustin laughed in victory as Lucas gave Dustin a warning look in return. 

  “We didn’t get to hear what Robin thought.” Lucas pointed out, hoping that Robin would be his saving grace, but his hope was quickly shot down. 

  “I’m with Y/N,” She stated, looking up from her book. “I hate those places, they are a cesspool of germs. Kids pick their noses then use their booger covered fingers to pick up a ball.” She turned her nose up at the idea. Lucas slumped back in defeat, Max sending him a sympathetic smile despite her internal happiness that she didn’t have to go to the bowling alley. Steve hid his own excitement as he sat down on the other side of Y/N, slinging his arm over her shoulders as she began to read her book. 

  “How about the Arcade, huh? You guys can watch us play awesome games and not touch anything!” Mike brought up his idea, trying to sell the girls on it. Robin shook her head instantly. 

  “Arcades are my personal hell,” Y/N grumbled, flipping the page. “Kids running around screaming and the noises from the games. It’s nauseating.” She cringed at the thought of it. 

  “So that leaves watching movies here then.” Dustin smiled brightly, showing his still missing teeth. Mike and Lucas groaned, flopping back on the floor dramatically, missing the way Y/N’s face twisted into a scowl and Robin’s nose turned up once again. 

  “Sitting here all day watching movies?” Robin asked. 

  “I would rather stuff myself into a wood-chipper.” Y/N commented once again, her eyes never lifting off her page. This prompted Lucas and Mike to shoot back up, smiling widely at Dustin’s defeat. 

  “Hey, isn’t there that band stopping by to preform a little outdoor concert, super low-key and free?” Max finally brought up the idea she had been sitting on the whole time. She knew that Robin and Y/N would have backed her up, but the boys would have shot the idea down immediately. Y/N and Robin slowly lifted their heads, intrigued by Max’s idea. 

  “So? What band would be coming to Hawkins to play a free show? Are they even worth seeing?” Mike lifted his upper lip in a grimace as he got ready to shoot the idea down. 

  “Yes, they are,” Max narrowed her eyes at the boy. “It’s a relatively new rock band, kinda like Def Leppard meets Guns N’ Roses meets AC/DC. They are playing free shows in smaller towns to build a name for themselves, all their earnings come from their merch sales.” 

  “Now that,” Y/N finally closed her book, setting it on the coffee table as she uncrossed her legs. Leaning her elbows on her knees, she clasped her hands together and pointed her pointer fingers at Max, a smirk playing on her dark painted lips. “That sounds awesome.” She unclasped her hands to high-five Max, the red-head beyond happy that her idea was chosen.             

  “It does sound really cool,” Robin nodded, sharing a look with Y/N and Max. “I’m down.” 

  “You know what,” Steve finally spoke up, bobbing his head, a goofy smile on his face as his eyes gazed at Y/N as she leaned back under his arm, looking up at him. “I’m in too. I could use a good concert.” 

  “You’re just agreeing because your girlfriend wants to go!” Mike accused, earning two glares from Y/N and Steve. He shrunk back under Y/N’s hard glare.

  “Come on, guys,” Steve encouraged. “You guys could actually like their music, you might even find a new interest or meet some new people,” He tried to sell the reluctant teen boys. They hummed, actually listening to him. “There really isn’t any harm in going.” They nodded, muttering their lack-luster agreements in choosing the concert. 

  “Forget all that mushy, positive shit,” Y/N waved her hand at Steve’s sappy selling of the concert. “Just go and live outside of your comfort zone, taint your innocent, pure souls. You will thank me later, trust me.” 

  “Are you corrupting my kids?” Steve asked her as the boys all hollered ‘yeahs’ and hopped around the room as if they were tough. Max and Robin rolled their eyes at them, but Y/N looked back up at Steve, a sparkle in her eyes. 

  “Yeah, someone had to undo all the goofiness you instilled in them - make ‘em cooler.” He smiled down at her, pressing his lips against hers softly as the boy’s continued on. The roudiness melted away as they shared a loving kiss. As their lips pulled away reluctantly, parting the sweet kiss. Steve was never more sure that they were living proof of opposites attracting.         

[wiypt-writes]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch4: You Don’t Know What You’ve Got Till It’s Gone Part 1 Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: Jake and Stella are both home for Christmas, and the annual New Year’s Party at the Jensen’s sees some unexpected guests in attendance…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N:  Another long updated, so split into 2 parts for you to read at your leisure!! Part 2 to follow shortly.  

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 3 Part 2

“Knowing what you don't want can often be more valuable than knowing what you do want.” Melchor Lim

"So when do I get to meet Evan then?" Rey asked as she handed Stella the plate she had just rinsed.

It was the day before New Year’s Eve and both sisters were in the kitchen finishing doing the lunch dishes while their mother watched TV in the living room. Stella loved Christmas, she always had, and this was the first one she was getting to spend at home for 3 years. But, the trade-off for being able to do so was having to put up with Rey constantly nagging about her home-based shopping business not doing quite as well in the last weeks as she expected and her constant struggle to get pregnant. And, honestly, Stella was a little bit tired of having to sooth her sister's same worries every time they got together. But now a new topic had been thrown into the equation- Evan. And Stel found herself wishing that they were still talking about ovulation cycles and how many times on average in a week a couple wanting to conceive should be ‘doing it’.

"Jesus, will you give it a break? That’s all I heard when I was home for Thanksgiving…and over Christmas dinner and every day since then!” Stella finally snapped “God, you and mom have talked about nothing else, even Jane was poking for more information when we were at the spa because you can’t keep your mouth shut."

True to her word Rey had spent Rick's money on a girls-only spa day which in all fairness Stella had gladly welcomed. She had relished all the treatments, each one with a more flamboyant name than the other, and as their day culminated they all were relaxing in the hot tub, enjoying the Mean Steam treatment while sipping Mimosas out of rather expensive looking glassware, Jane had started prying because Rey had told her about Evan. Luckily Janet, Jake's mum, had spotted Stella’s discomfort and had come to her rescue by scolding Jane for being a nosey bitch. 

"It’s Christmas. He’s spending it with his family in Boston." Stella shook her head at her sister.

"Boston’s only an hour or so drive Stel…"

"So what? We don’t get to see our families that often Rey." Stella replied, snatching a big round plate from Rey's hands.

"Whoaa, easy Stelly. Anyone would think you were trying to keep him away from us!"

"That’s exactly what I’m doing, yes." she rolled her eyes at her sister, who could clearly read the annoyance in her features and voice as when she spoke again her voice was a little whiney.

"Stel, don’t be like that."

Stella sighed. "Why are you so desperate to meet him anyway?"

"Hey, it’s not every day your baby sister gets herself a new man. At least not when she’s been dating her childhood love for what? Twenty years now? Come on, let me bask in the novelty, Stel."

"Fuck off Rey, I haven’t been dating Jensen for years and we were together nowhere near 20." Stella protested again, this time her voice a little louder.

"Felt like it to me." Rey shrugged.

Stella grit her teeth. Though her sister was exaggerating it was true she’d been with Jake for a long time all things considered, and doing the whole dating thing during the last 8 weeks had felt new and exciting in a sense. She was enjoying every part of getting to know a person while dating them, something she hadn't been able to experience with Jake as they already knew each other inside out when they had finally gotten together. And whilst that had been nice, and she wouldn’t change it for the world, with Evan everything was new and she had learnt what the cliche I want to know you better really meant during the dates which had following the first.

At the weekend following their trip to DC, Evan had taken her for another meal out, this one at a local Mexican place not far from HQ. Then the following weekend they’d visited a posh cocktail bar Stella had been eyeing up for a while which just wasn’t the Losers’ scene. There had been a trip to the cinema, an evening at the bowling alley, beers one Sunday afternoon whilst watching the Patriots’ game in a sports bar, a walk round one of the local parks with a burgers, grabbing a shake and ice cream on the way home….it was easy going, nice, no pressure… and then it had morphed naturally into something a little more serious.

The Friday before Thanksgiving Evan had invited her to his and he’d cooked, which in itself was a novelty as Jake could burn a pan of water. He’d whipped up a spectacular seafood linguini, followed with a simple baked vanilla cheesecake, and after 2 bottles of crisp white wine, one thing had led to another and they’d ended up making out on the couch before Evan had taken her into his room.

"Is he good?" Rey asked out of the blue as if sensing where Stella’s inner thoughts had led her.

"Oh fuck off Rey, do I ask you how Rick is in bed?"

"Better than Jake?" Rey insisted, ignoring her sister rhetorical question.

"You had to ask." Stella groaned.

Rey looked at her and Stella sighed, knowing she wasn’t getting off the hook. "Look, he’s good, ok, really good…but as for being better than Jake he’s…he’s just different."

As a matter of fact that first time they’d slept together on that Friday, despite Stella’s nerves, it had been fucking Earth shattering, and every time since hadn’t disappointed. Evan was a generous lover, giving before he took, making sure she was satisfied in every which way she could be. But Stella still found herself getting a little nervous beforehand. Evan was the one who instigated the sex, and whilst Stella was a more than willing participant, she was craving the day she finally felt happy enough to take charge a little.

"And that’s a problem?" Rey asked and Stella looked at her.

"What?" she frowned.

"Him being different to Jake?"

"No, I didn’t say that. It’s just…well, me and Jake know each other inside out, it’s bound to feel a little different, isn’t it?" 

Rey's eyes suddenly opened wide with realisation. "Oh my god…"

"What?" Stella asked, a little bit exasperated.

"You’ve never been with anyone else bar Jake, have you?"

Stella groaned but that was all the confirmation Rey needed to know she was right. Her sister had hit the spot but she was fucked if she was getting into that. "Look, enough about me. Any progress on baby Fitzpatrick?"

Rey sighed, not fazed in the slightest but Stella’s forced change of topic had redirected the conversation to one of her major concerns and Stella knew she wouldn’t be able to resist talking about it. "No, not yet. I don’t know what we’re doing wrong? We stick to the schedule, I’ve got an ovulation tracker…"

"God Rey, you talk like you’re baking a cake or putting an Ikea cupboard together, that’s what’s wrong." Stella scoffed.

"Science doesn’t lie Stelly." Rey said, as if lecturing an ignorant little girl.

"Science says it’s a matter of PH." she shrugged, a small grin playing in the corner of her mouth.

Rey rolled her eyes. "You know Jake made up that shit, right? I googled it."

"No… really?"

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Stella." Rey squinted her eyes at Stella who grinned in response. "And speaking of low forms of wit, did you know Jensen’s new bimbo is coming to the New Year's party tomorrow?"

"Oh, is she?" Stella asked, trying to hide her surprise as much as possible, knowing that she was failing miserably. The news had shocked her a little, not that it was her business, but still.

"Careful Stel, is that a trace of disappointment I sense in your voice?" 

"No, I just hadn’t realised how serious they were. Mind you, I haven’t seen him for a few weeks. Work has been busy and we don’t hang out much now." she tried to explain herself without sounding scorned or bitter.

"You sure?" Rey asked, examining her sister's expression as she finished loading the dishwasher.

"Yeah, it’s just…well, you’ll know when you meet her."

And boy, would they all know. Because, Britney was, how to put it? Something else.

Stella sat at the table opposite Pooch and Cougar in the bar, sipping at her beer. It was the day before they were all due to head home for Thanksgiving so they had decided to head out for a few drinks, a way to celebrate with one another.

"So where’s Evan?" Pooch asked before taking a sip from his beer bottle.

"Oh, out of town on some intel gathering trip with the Canadian Ministry of Defence or something…he couldn’t say much. I won’t see him now until I’m back from New Hampshire." Stella offered.

"It still going well or..." Pooch pried a little bit more and Stella flushed a little. 

"Yeah, he’s nice…"

Cougar grinned and tipped his hat at her and she snorted, setting her bottle down. "He must be, we ain't seen you out of work for the last few weeks, he must be keeping you busy."

Stella laughed and shrugged as Cougar chuckled and then Pooch let out a groan. Stella frowned, and then turned in the direction he was looking at only to see Jensen working his way over with the brunette she’d seen him with a while back hanging on his arm.

"It's Britney, bitch." Cougar chimed in. 

"Wait, her name is Britney?" Pooch asked him and Cougar nodded. "How do you know?"

"Bumped into them at the condo one night." Cougar explained and Pooch's mouth fell open.

Stella frowned and turned around again, locking eyes with Jensen and saw him swallow, like he always did when nervous or apprehensive. But as she watched, he took a deep breath and continued his path over to their table.

"No Evan?" he asked once he reached them, looking at Stella, not even bothering in greeting the rest first.

"No. He’s away." Stella answered, looking back at him but gripping her beer bottle for dear life.

"Who’s Evan, another Loser?" the brunette asked then. Her high-pitched voice making Pooch and Cougar scrunch their noses as they shared a glance.

Stella glared at Jake as a grin spread across his face, daring him to say something and Jake's grin slipped under her glare as he turned to Britney.

"No, Evan is Stella’s…actually..." he looked at Stella, "What is he? Boyfriend? Fuck buddy? Late night booty call?"

"All of the above." Stella answered ignoring Jake's jab and necking her beer as both Cougar and Pooch sniggered and she fought to keep the smile from spreading on her lips at the look on Jensen’s face which was somewhere between disgust and disappointment. Instead she stood up and leaned towards Britney. "I’ll introduce myself seeing as he isn’t going to. I’m Stella."

"Hi, I’m Britney." she said and then to Stella’s horror she pulled her into a hug, kissing her cheek. Stella remained stiff, merely concentrating on trying not to choke on the heady combination of Britney’s floral perfume and hairspray from the huge bouffant ponytail she was sporting. 

"So does your boyfriend work with these guys or…?" Britney's voice pierced the air again.

"No, I work with them." Stella explained as she took her seat back.

"What? You’re in the army too? Wow, Girl Power!" Britney exclaimed before giggling.

"Yeah…" Stella said as she turned back to Pooch and Cougar, mouthing WHAT THE FUCK?

"Does anyone want a drink or…?" Jake asked, trying to divert the weird situation Britney had just created.

Stella turned back to him and stood up again. "It’s ok JJ, I’ll get them, it’s my round."

"I’ll give you a hand." Jake offered himself, motioning to follow her.

Stella smiled as she put a hand on Jake's chest to stop him. "No, Cougs can. You stay here with your girlfriend." she ordered more than suggested, making sure her eyes locked with his when she uttered the word.

At her use of the term, Britney giggled and grabbed Jensen’s arm. Jake looked at her, and Stella could see the irritation flash across his face and she smirked before she asked what Britney wanted to drink. The girl requested a Malibu and coke, the worst combination Stella could think of if you asked her but then again Britney's choice of outfit and her likeness for glittery accessories spoke of her taste for itself, and then Stella looked at Jake.

"Usual?"

"Yeah, thanks Stel." he said, a little quieter this time.

Cougar dropped an arm round Stella’s shoulder and as they made their way to the bar, Stella could feel Jake’s eyes burning into her back. Point, set, match to Arty…

"From what I heard it was a total accident she got invited. She was on the phone to him on Christmas Eve when Jane was talking to Janet in the background. Apparently she caught the words New Year’s Eve and Party. Jensen, thinking she wouldn’t be able to get a flight at such late notice, told her she was welcome to come." Rey explained with a grin. "Anyway, next thing she’s messaging him, saying she’d managed to get a cancellation seat so she’s flying in on the morning of the party. Apparently he wasn’t best pleased." Rey snorted. "Jane doesn’t think he’s all that into her, but…"

Stella only shrugged. "Who knows what goes on in his head, I don’t anymore that’s for sure." she commented before her sister could ask more, but she couldn’t prevent herself from letting out a deep sigh. Whilst she had nothing against Britney, and despite the fact she was now with Evan, the idea of being at a party with Jake and his new girlfriend wasn’t filling her full of joy.

The rest of the day was spent in relative calm. Richard came back from wherever he’d been following lunch, Stella hadn’t been paying attention when Rey told her, and the 4 of them settled down for a rather furious game of monopoly which Richard won, Stella passing comment on how it would have been ridiculous if he hadn’t, given he was a finance manager.

It was just after dinner when Stella’s phone went off. It was a message from Evan telling her to get to her laptop so he could video call over the CIA network. So she quickly set it up in the kitchen and soon after it pinged and she accepted the call, smiling as his handsome face filled the screen. “Hey Pumpkin.” He smiled and Stella laughed at his ridiculous nickname for her, chosen due to the way they’d met.

“Hey!” she beamed back “How’s your day been?”

“Not bad.” He shrugged “Usual family bullshit at play. You?”

“Same.” She said, sitting back in her chair “I’ve eaten way too much.”

He chuckled “That’s what Christmas is for darlin’. Way too much home cooking, enough alcohol to fill a pool, and a side of chocolate, pie and cake for good measure.”

“Imma turn into a Christmas cake if I eat any more of it Ev.” Stella smiled, reaching for her wine. She took a sip and then looked at the glass “And probably a bottle of pinot too.”

“Well I don’t have a problem with that.” He smiled, waving his own bottle of beer at her “Food and drink, win win.”

Stella laughed and then the door to the kitchen opened and Rey walked in. She made her way towards the fridge and then paused, turning to Stella. 

“Oh my God is that him?” she practically screeched and moved, draping herself over Stella’s shoulders to get a look at the screen.

“Rey, piss off.” Stella grumbled, trying to push her away. Rey took the hint and stepped back a bit as Evan looked at her, smiling, before he glanced back at Stel.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

“Oh, hi, I’m Rey.” Rey spoke from behind Stella who rolled her eyes “Stella’s favourite sister.”

“You’re my only sister.” Stella shot back as Evan chuckled.

“Nice to meet you Rey, or see you in this case.” He smiled that damned smile that could melt a fucking polar ice cap and Stella heard Rey’s little gasp. She sighed and turned to her sister.

“Ok, seriously, get what you came for and piss off.”

Rey held her hands up and went to the fridge, pulling out 2 bottles of beer and a can of coke. She headed to the door and stopped, looking at Stella, her mouth open.“O.M.G He is a snack!” she mouthed and Stella rolled her eyes again before Rey left the room, closing the door behind her.

“Sorry about that.” Stella turned back to the screen and Evan laughed.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s a mad house here too.” He leaned back in his chair. “She seems nice.”

“She has her moments.” Stella smiled, “Anyway, enough about her, tell me what you’ve been up to. We haven’t spoken in a few days.”

“Yeah, sorry I was gonna call last night but it’s been manic. My sister and her 3 kids have been over and Uncle Evan was the star attraction. And by attraction I mean climbing frame.”

“Lucky kids…” Stella quipped, arching her eyebrow “I’d climb you too if I was there.”

Evan grinned at her comment and Stella found herself slightly surprised. The ten days or so they’d been apart had made her needy and she'd be damned if someone else could pull off a simple white t-shirt like he could, and that fucking chain he wore which was hanging out of the collar was doing things to her.

“Well a few more days and I’m all yours to climb Pumpkin” Evan smiled “So, any plans for New Year’s Eve tomorrow?”

“We’re going to a party at the Jensens’. They’ve thrown one for as long as I can remember so it’ll be nice to see them again, catch up. What about you?”

“Oh I don’t know yet.” Evan ran a hand over his beard, tugging gently on the whiskers which adorned his chin “I may stay here with the family or go out with some friends. I’ll make my mind up as I go.” He paused for a little before his hand dropped from his face “Will Jake be there?”

“It’s his parents throwing the party.” Stella arched an eyebrow “Of course he will.”

“Right…” Evan mused and Stella narrowed her eyes.

“Are you jealous, Evan?”

“No, I just…” he groaned “Ok, yeah, yeah I am. The thought of you bringing in the New Year with your ex and not me kinda sucks Stella.”

“I know.” She sighed “But I wouldn’t worry too much. Apparently his new girlfriend is coming.” She took a deep breath before she smiled a little sadly “I really wish you were here Ev.”

And she did, not least because she actually did miss him, but the thought of Jensen eating face with the bimbo whilst she was simply there alone wasn’t something she was relishing.

“I promise I’ll make up for it when we get back to base.” Evan said gently. 

“You better.”

He chuckled “Being apart from me really suits you sweetheart.”

“What can I say, you spoil me.” She shrugged.

“And you haven’t even had your Christmas present yet.” He grinned.

“I can’t wait to unwrap it.” Stella smirked “And the present.”

“Fuck, Stella…you’re killing me!” he whined. She laughed and at that point a voice sounded in the background and Evan hastily looked over his shoulder before he called that he’d be there in a second. “That’s my ma…I gotta go.”

“Yeah, It’s probably time I bust Rey for eavesdropping behind the kitchen door.” Stella rolled her eyes and Evan laughed.

“Ok, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, talk then. Night handsome.”

“Night gorgeous.”

With that Stella cut the call and shut the laptop. She stood up, crept across the room and yanked open the kitchen door. Rey immediately straightened up and jumped back. “I was erm…gonna…” she points to the kitchen.

“Spy on us?” Stella folded her arms.

“I wasn’t…I just….ok, I was spying.” Rey shrugged “Because, fuck Stel, where did you get a man like that?”

“The CIA.” Stella said simply pushing past her and heading into the living room where Jules and Richard were watching TV, Stella following her chunnering about Evan.

“Leave your sister alone, Aubrey.” Julie looked up.

“I’m heading up to bed ma.” Stella smiled, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Julie nodded but Aubrey wasn’t listening, she was still talking about Evan.

“God mom, you should have seen him. And that smile…”

“Erm…” Richard waved “I’m right here.”

“Yeah, isn’t it about time you and your husband went back to your own house?” Stella asked. 

“Yeah, yeah…” Rey waved her hand, “We were going anyway.”

“Good riddance.” Stella mumbled.

Rey spun and pointed at her “I heard that. Don’t forget we have a date to go shopping tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.” Stella said sarcastically and with that she bid them goodnight and headed to her room.

**** “You heading out?” Jane looked at Jensen as he groaned, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Yeah I gotta go get Britney.”

“Thought you said she wasn’t arriving until tomorrow?” Jane frowned

“So did I, turns out she messed up with the date on the flights..”

“What?” Jane looked at him.

“Don’t ask me, she’s a dumbass.” Jensen rolled his eyes.

“Woooow…” Jane looked at him as he grabbed his dad’s car keys from the side in the hall “That is love, right there.”

“Fuck off Jane.” Jensen raised his middle finger over his shoulder as he grabbed his jacket of the peg. He then paused and turned to his sister, shaking his head. “Seriously, though…when she told me what she’d done, do you know what she said? The mouse was sticky, Jensen and I booked a day early by mistake” he shook his head.

“Hang on.” Jane held her hand up “If she really had messed up with the dates then she would have been on a morning flight still, just on a different day.” Jake looked at his sister, frowning a little and Jane snorted “If you ask me, I don’t think she’s as dumb as you’re making her out to be.”

“Well I wasn’t asking you.” Jake shot back as he shrugged his jacket on and headed out of the door.

At that point Gracie wandered in from the kitchen, dressed in her pyjamas, followed by John.

“Who's dumb mommy?” she asked with a yawn as Jane held her coat out to pop on ready for the drive home.

“Your Uncle Jake, sweetie.” Jane said.

John chuckled “He told you about Britney arriving earlier than anticipated then?”

Jane snorted “Yeah, and considering she’s supposed to be his girlfriend..." she framed the words with quotation marks on one hand “He doesn’t seem too pleased about it.”

“Yeah well, I think we all know the reason for that.” Janet joined them in the hallway, not even bothering to hide her disdain for the entire situation and John snorted. He leaned over and gave Gracie a kiss “Night Squirt.”

“Night grandpa.” She smiled before she took a kiss off Janet too. “Night Nanny” and then she looked at Jane “When’s daddy back from the station?”

“When his shift finishes baby, now come on, let’s get you home.” Jane smiled before she looked at her parents “See you tomorrow.”

Jane and Gracie exited the house, making their way to her car. Jane strapped Gracie into the seat and then moved to climb into the driver’s side and paused, spotting her dad’s car was still there behind hers. Jake was sat in the drivers’ seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked pissed, really pissed, but before she had the chance to go and speak to him, he’d set off.

“Fucking idiot.” Jane grumbled to herself, and with a shake of her head she climbed in her own car and headed home. 

**** The following morning Stella woke up in a better mood, talking with Evan the previous night had calmed her restlessness and though she missed him she was determined to make the most of the New Year's party that very same night. It was just a few days more and they could be together and she could effectively unwrap her gift. 

She was getting ready to go shopping, Rey probably on her way to pick her up, when the doorbell rang and she cursed her sister for being earlier than expected for once in her life as she barrelled down the stairs.

"Honey, can you get that? I’m busy." her mother shouted from the kitchen.

"Sure mom." she replied just as she realised Rey wouldn't be using the front door and definitely wouldn't use the doorbell. With a frown she opened it and blinked in disbelief, her mouth falling open. Evan was stood there, wearing a warm, woollen coat, scarf and a huge, million dollar smile. The bastard!

 “Surprise Pumpkin…” he chanted, opening his arms for her.

Stella gasped and gave him a quick hug. “Oh my God…Ev, what are you doing here?”

"Well I got nothing on, you were only an hour away and after you saying you wished I was here…" he shrugged, “figured I could drive up to see my best girl."

Stella blinked again, before she smiled shyly. "You drove just to see me? That’s…wait… how did you know where I live?"

Evan laughed heartily. "I work in intelligence gathering for the CIA, wasn’t that hard."

"Ok, that’s kinda creepy, stalker behaviour." she mused.

He laughed again and winked an eye at her. "Perks of the job, sweetheart."

That damned side smile of his made Stella pause for a second before she giggled and jumped at him. He caught her and laughed as her legs wrapped around his waist. “I’m so glad you’re here, Ev..."

He smiled at her fondly before he kissed her tenderly, his cold nose bumping against hers. “Me too, but are you gonna let me in coz it's freezing out here…”

“Yes, let the man in Stella.” Mrs Stevenson spoke from behind her daughter, making Stella drop to her feet and turn to face her. Her mother smiled at her and then to Evan. “Hi Evan, nice to meet you finally.”

"It’s a pleasure Mrs Stevenson." he greeted the woman back, flashing his smile.

Stella looked at her mom as she pulled away to let Evan in the house, if she was surprised by her daughter's boyfriend showing up at her door she was hiding it very well, and then it dawned on her. "Oh my God, you knew he was coming, didn’t you?"

Evan shut the door behind him and looked at her mom, then to Stella and chuckled. "Clever girl."

"He may or may not have called me earlier this morning to check if you were doing anything and I may or may not have suggested he spends New Year with us." Mrs Stevenson conceded.

Stel gasped and looked back at Evan with hopeful eyes. "Are you?"

"Well, I was gonna see if you wanted to come back to Boston with me but your mom said you wouldn’t want to miss the party as you’ve not made one for 3 years so, choice is yours." he shrugged, flashing a dazzling half smile.

Stella bit her lip, Boston sounded good, the fact that he had come all the way to see her and was willing to take her back to his family's place sounded even better, but she was really looking forward to that night's party. She missed Mr and Mrs Jensen, and also Jane and, though the prospect of Britney being there wasn't very appealing, she thought that maybe with Evan there she could have a really nice time. Thus, after pondering the pros and cons she looked at him. "I’d like to go to the party if you wanna?"

 "Then party it is." Evan grinned.

"So this means I get to receive the New Year with you!" she grinned back at him.

"Yeah, guess it does." he said with a smile, one that was also loaded with the promise of a very good start to the year, if you knew how to read it that is.

And then the voice of Julie pulled them away from gazing into each other's eyes "I was gonna get the spare room ready but figured you two would want to share so I’ve left fresh towels on your bed Stella." 

"Mommmm." Stella protested, mortified.

"I’m happy to sleep wherever I’m told." Evan, ever the charmer, intervened.

But whatever Stella's mom was going to reply it was cut off as the kitchen door opened signalling Rey’s entrance.

"Stel, you ready? I thought we could head down to…" Rey began to say before she stopped dead as she entered the hallway and spotted a masculine presence, her mouth dropping open. "Fuck me!"

"Aubrey!!" her mum chastised her.

Rey blinked and looked at her mum and then at Stel. "He’s here?!"

Evan chuckled at Rey's reaction to him being there. "I am. Nice to meet you Rey."

"Erm, hi…" she managed to say before looking at Stella, smirking a little. "I take it you want a rain check on our shopping trip?"

Evan frowned at Rey's comment and gave her an apologetic look. "Oh, sorry, did I step all over your plans?"

"No, it’s fine. You can come, we were only going into town to pass the time, grab some lunch." Stella assured him. But Rey wasn't that willing to keep their plans as it were.

"No way am I playing 3rd wheel…you two go, I can do…stuff."

"You sure?" Evan asked Rey. "Coz I can just..." he said as he nodded towards what he supposed to be the door that led into some sort of den, but she didn't let him finish.

"No, don’t worry. It’s ok. You two will want to spend some time together, you didn’t come here to sit in our living room." 

"Whose living room?" Mrs Stevenson asked, amused.

 Aubrey ignored her mum and mused. "Would be a nice addition to it though…"

"Ok so I’m gonna bring my bag in from the car, be right back Pumpkin." Evan said, blushing a little at Rey’s complement before giving Stella a quick kiss on her cheek and heading out the door.

The three women watched him go appreciatively, until Rey shook her head and asked "Wait is he staying? And Pumpkin? What?"

Julie grinned as Stella groaned. She knew that one wasn’t going away any time soon.

****

Chapter 4 Part 2