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i sincerely would love to read any of them, but i have to admit that i’m partial to the goldrush saga. honestly (and im not just saying this to make my case lol) it’s one of the best hotch works i’ve ever read. i think i’ve read it at least 10 times, i just can’t get it out of my mind, i keep coming back to it. it’s so so so beautifully written. the tension is so heavy and so light and the same time, i don’t even know how to explain it. like there’s that background feeling of "this shouldn’t happen" but you forget it in the moment, and then you’re suddenly reminded of it. so uh yeah i’d really really love a second part but to be fair i’d really love anything that you write <33
Omg hi hello??? I’ve re read this ask like three times already I can’t tell you how much it means to know people liked what I wrote and that they’ve gone back to read it multiple times (mind blowing). Absolutely working on a second installment for it and I just wanted you to know it’ll be largely due to this ask lol
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Please I'm begging I'd give up my first born for a second part to Goldrush xx
This is the second ask I’ve gotten for goldrush! I’m so happy people have resonated with it, it was the first fic I’d posted in a long time and even now it’s one of my favorites. I’m for sure working on a second installment
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Heeey if anyone’s still interested I was looking through my google docs and I have a list with a few one shots either already done or almost done, either way is there something you’d still like to read? Here’s the list (some of the titles are nonsense because it’s just a reference to myself lmao)

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A small white-glazed green-splashed pottery jar, Tang dynasty.
Courtesy Alain Truong
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STELLA MCCARTNEY Fall/Winter RTW 2024 if you want to support this blog consider donating to:ko-fi.com/fashionrunways
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Bloomingdale’s / Chanel Vamp, 1996
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I love you tragedy I love you corruption arcs I love you doomed relationships I love you character succumbing to their fatal flaw I love you codependency I love you characters doomed to die from the start I love you road to hell paved with good intentions
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Come back, I have to tell you the plot of a fic I’ll never write and get you excited about it so we can all be disappointed with me later
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I do have like a google doc with 20ish stories or prompts I wanted to do for criminal minds but I’m not sure I’ll be able to do all since they heavily vary in complexity lol but it would be fun to revisit them
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Had a really fun story idea but it was for DC comics and not criminal minds 😞 tragic!
#I have like 20ish story ideas in a google doc for criminal minds tho#idk if I’ll ever write all of them but I was thinking
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Late Spring
Summary: In an Italian restaurant somewhere in Nebraska you and the BAU decompress after non stop cases. And like a magic trick SSA Aaron Hotchner goes back to being Aaron
Word count: 1.8k
After a serial arsonist in North Hempstead, New York; a serial killer in Chandler, Arizona and an amber alert taking you to Lincoln, Nebraska back to back the entire team was running on fumes. Actually fumes were what you were running after the second week, right now it was just coffee and the thought of eventually getting to sleep in your own beds.
It’s not easy being in close quarters with the same group of people for so long, especially when you’ve had to share bedrooms for most of it. First a week with JJ, then three days with Emily and even one night with Spence after both Derek and Rossi refused to bunk with him citing intense sleep talking - which was, in fact, confirmed by you.
Eventually all the rooms started to blur together in your head, from the ugly pink explosion that was the bed and breakfast (which by the way had none), to the motel 6 in Nebraska that seemed straight out of a horror story, complete with an extremely creepy caretaker. Or future unsub Mike as Emily dubbed him.
Tonight was the last night before you could get home and you guys were celebrating big time, which at your current combined energy level meant an actual sit down meal where you didn’t have to look at a dismembered torso while trying to keep down some soggy fries and an under cooked burger.
You all ate in relative silence, brains too fried to talk about anything anymore, the rundown “italian” restaurant - yes Italian in air quotes just like Rossi insisted on doing every time he mentioned the place. The buzzing of the fluorescent light and the scraping of cutlery against plates being the only backdrop to your collective exhaustion.
The only good thing to come out of it was the fact that, finally, after close to three weeks Hotch could ditch the BAU Unit Chief SSA Hotchner and for once just be Aaron. And oh how you missed Aaron.
Despite having spent the better part of each day right next to him it felt like the chasm between you was larger than ever. It was what you had both agreed to; at work pretend like he’s just your unit chief and you’re just the media liaison. No room sharing, no public displays of affection.
Sometimes the affection bleed through the contours of professionalism he insisted on keeping well defined. Something as simple as him pressing his big palm in the middle of your back right between your shoulder blades as you spoke to him; heads a smidge closer together than strictly necessary.
Right now, though, he was just Aaron. Your Aaron. Sitting right next to you, chairs pushed together. Shirt sleeves rolled over his forearms, tie discarded in the hotel room along with his jacket and the last vestiges of whatever sense of professionalism he was still clinging to. His arm around the back of your chair as you leaned into it, head tilted back looking at him as he drank a beer.
He looks back at you and gives you a brief smile, the fondness in his eyes lingering, leg nudging yours underneath the table.
“Don’t tell me you’re tired already,” He says. “Me? Are you kidding?” You yawned “Send us off to the next case I’m ready” Although it wasn’t the cold the sleepiness was making the air conditioned room feel ten times colder so you shivered and took the liberty to lean even closer to him. His hand went to rub your arm trying to warm you back up.
“Do not” Derek chimed in “even joke about that, pretty boy said the same thing after Lincoln and look at us now”
“Yeah, look at us now, in Lincoln” Said Emily with a straight face before drowning the remainder of her beer and snatching JJs before she could realize what had happened.
“I’m too tired for this, you know what I meant.”
“mhhh, sooryy” You replied, not looking very sorry as you closed your eyes and rested your head on the crook of Aarons neck. Breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne and him, more present than ever after day three in the Nebraska summer. His hand is still trailing a path up and down your side, wrinkling your already very wrinkled green shirt and lulling you to sleep.
You felt Aarons lips nudge your temple talking to your in low gentle tones, his breath tickling the baby hairs in your forehead “Do no fall asleep on me or I’ll have to carry you back to the hotel”
“And you’re afraid that if people saw I would lose all of my hard earned Lincoln Nebraska street cred?”
He huffed a laugh before planting a whisper of a kiss on your temple “No, I’m afraid I’m going to throw my back and then you’ll be stuck taking care of me for two weeks”
“If it gets you to rest for two entire weeks I might just consider it”
“Jack would probably help”
“It’s good that you know us so well, and besides I saw you yesterday you still got it” You smiled against his neck remembering the brief but very interesting fight against the unsub before he could be apprehended. “Remind me to ask Penny if she has a copy of the surveillance tape, I’m planning on making the showing it at your birthday dinner next year”
“Look forward to it”
Suddenly you felt a small object hit your chest, looking down to see a crumpled napkin on your lap.
“Can you please get a room? This is the first decent meal I’ve had in weeks and I would hate to throw it back up” Said Emily with a mocking smile, her pearly white teeth contrasting with her faded, barely there plum lipstick.
“I’ve been trying to find a room for days now but none of you know how to cooperate” You reply with a huff.
“Saying please repeatedly until I tell you to shut up is not a good persuasion strategy” Said JJ frowning after getting her beer back from Emily and realizing it was almost empty.
“I don’t see why not, it’s never failed before” You said with a smug smile.
“Besides if we suffer, you suffer” Derek interjects.
“Aww just like a real family”
After a couple of minutes Spencer piped up next to Derek “I would have traded rooms with you”
“Don’t encourage her” Said JJ in her patented and perfected disgruntled mom voice
“I’m going to keep this in mind next time you ask us to babysit Henry so you can have alone time, Jareau”
“Okay, okay” Emily interrupted “Let’s all change subjects, the last thing I want is to talk more about Hotch’s sex life; no offense but in order for this to work I have to think of you like a Ken Doll”
You let out a startled laugh, properly awake now “oh I can assure you my friend-”
“Okay, that’s enough” Said Hotch trying to invoke his authoritative former prosecutor, current FBI unit chief voice. Which was, of course, completely useless when he was blushing so hard.
You just laughed once more, leaning over to briefly kiss his cheek in apology as your friends heckled you both.
What was meant to be a quick dinner before hitting the hay, although in this case the hay was actually a very thin and lumpy hotel mattress, turned into a couple more beers. And yes there were times this week when going to sleep and waking up to Emily's snoring face made you want to quit and move to the seaside but there was truly no other group of people that could make an “Italian” dinner this fun.
Afterwards you all headed you, the brief rise in energy quickly waning at the prospect of more than five hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Aaron held you back towards the rear of the group, his arm around you possibly the only thing keeping you upright. The dusk settling over the skyline painted the city pink and gold, you looked back at him standing next to each other on the sidewalk. His eyes a syrupy sweet caramel brown in the golden hour.
“Apparently there’s an ice cream place a couple of blocks from here, it’s supposed to be very good actually” He said looking down for a minute. It took you back to your first date, him asking to take you to a jazz bar which was more so Dave's plan than his, only to end up at a taco truck talking until three am. It amazed you then just as it did now how he could go from stern FBI agent, commanding a room without raising his voice to, well, Aaron.
You smiled up at him, the others long gone leaving you two enveloped in the last rays of sunlight.
“I’d love to, you might actually have to carry me back though, I don’t think this second wind is gonna carry me more than an hour”
“That’s alright, I heard that if I throw my back I get a couple of weeks”
“Whoever told you that was so smart”
“And beautiful”
“Can’t forget that part”
“Well I might not be able to swing two whole weeks but I did arrange to have three days off for everyone” Aaron said, hands in his pocket walking by leisurely next to you as passersby carved a path around you both, a hurried businessman bumping into your back made Hotch pull you closer still, once more enveloping your back.
“Are you serious?” At his assenting nod you couldn't help but smile “and you kept that all to yourself?”
“Mhm”
“Anything else up your sleeve Hotchner?”
“Aaron”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve heard the name Hotch so often these last couple of weeks I almost forgot what my actual name sounded like” He said with a small smile, but you also knew by the way he melted when you said it that he was particularly fond of how it sounded coming out of your mouth.
“Okay, anything else up your sleeve, Aaron?” You asked fondly, unable to resist any longer and stealing a quick kiss before resuming your walk.
“No, nothing else”
“Okay”
“Oh I did convince Dave to share a room with Derek tonight which would indicate that I’m on my own tonight”
“No way, did I miss an anniversary or something?” You asked looking up at him
“No, I just missed you lately”
“Me too but no one else would budge on the room thing, how did you do it?”
“It only cost me forty bucks and promising to take over both Morgans and Rossi's reports for the last case”
“Ah bribery, should have done that sooner”
“You can’t blame yourself honey, I was a prosecutor after all”
You laughed once more, giddiness dispersing your exhaustion, making you feel like you could stay up until next morning, without trouble.
Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, the ice cream shop just right around the corner, you drew him towards you, leaning up to kiss him slowly and unhurried. Savoring the feeling of coming home after three weeks and not being able to wait a moment more.
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Jules de Balincourt (French / American, b.1972), Crooked Cities, 2015, Oil on panel
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wish i could go missing for a little bit and no one would freak out and then i could come back and they'd be like "did you have fun going missing" and i'd be like "yeah, thanks" and then i could do that every couple of months or so and it wouldn't be a big deal
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falling behind | spencer reid
Summary: During a movie night with Spencer, he confesses to you that he feels like he's falling behind, having never kissed anyone. You offer to catch him up.
(based on laufey's falling behind)
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bff!reader
Word count: 2.4k
Warnings/tags: spencer's first kiss, s1/s2 spencer, best friend reader, kissing, mentions of sex, some angst at the end.
the divider
"I think you need another bookshelf, Doc," you say, narrowly dodging a stack of books that comes up to your hip.
You’ve let yourself in for your traditional movie night that’s become far and few ever since Spencer started at the FBi. His days off are rare, but they’re always spent with you. You hang your coat and scarf over Spencer’s designated hook for you. Spencer’s putting about in the kitchen, cups clinking.
"I've been trying to find one at a flea market," Spencer says from the kitchen.
"Even though flea markets give you the heebie jeebies?" you call back, flipping through a thick hardcover about ancient Rome. Aaaand that's a naked man. You close the book. Spencer’s the mature one out of the two of you. That’s why he’s got books about Rome and you don’t.
"I'm not crazy about bringing home furniture that was once in someone else's house, though it’s usually very cheap. Still! They could’ve had termites. And that’s a best-case scenario. You won’t believe what some people have in their houses.”
“Oh, I know. Pet dandruff. Mold spores. Your worst nightmare.”
Spencer appears with two mugs of Ovaltine. He's adorably cozy, cocooned in an oversized Caltech sweatshirt and green slacks with the giant cargo pockets he loves. They're so practical!
“There’s no need for sarcasm,” he says, mouth pursed the way it does when you’re being a smartass.
“There’s always a need,” you say cheerfully.
He's wearing the Doctor Who socks you got him three years ago for his birthday. They're worn a little thin. You've offered to buy him new ones—Spencer insists these are still good.
“So how’s life in our nation’s capital?” you ask. “Besides all the serial killers.”
"Good. I still haven't gotten used to these D.C. winters but I feel a lot less silly making hot Ovaltine when it's not sixty-five degrees outside," he says, bending to set your mug down.
Instinctively, you pull out two coasters and Spencer puts your mug on one and cradles his own. He sits on the overstuffed couch he took from his mother's house. You'd helped him take it. You’d followed him out here, actually, after his second PhD, and you live just outside of D.C. because you’re not a big-shot FBI profiler. You’d split the cost of the U-Haul from California and stayed with him the first night because Spencer can’t sleep in unfamiliar darkness.
It had been four years since you’d seen each other. You’d shared a bottle of cheap wine to celebrate his new job at the BAU. Later, Spencer cried over Diana and you held him through it.
"Turning the heat on might help," you say.
"That's simply a luxury the FBI doesn't pay me for. Anyway, thermostats increase the chances of a fire. Especially if the pipes are old."
"We should ask your friend Penelope to hack a bank so you can buy a mansion," you say.
Spencer shakes his head and brings the mug to his lips. "Please don't give her any ideas. Are we starting the movies?"
"Yes! Home Alone?”
“Don’t we always start with your favorite?” he asks, smiling.
“We do. You indulge me, Spencestar.”
You get up to fiddle with Spencer’s ancient TV and DVD player. It takes a couple of strategic smacks to get it running, but you do and you put the DVD in. It’s a tradition, your holiday movie marathons with Spencer.
You get up and unfurl the giant fluffy gray blanket that Spencer keeps neatly folded on the sofa. You sit next to him and pull the blanket over the both of you, then take your Ovaltine into your hands.
“You know, you could always invite your new friends at the FBI for movie nights,” you say. “I’d be okay with that. As long as they understand that I'm your oldest and bestest friend and therefore take precedence.”
"As if I need you telling them embarrassing stories about me,” Spencer says, looking at you flatly. “I know your motivations. It’s bad enough that Derek calls me the baby bird of the bullpen."
“Derek is the one that set you up on a date?”
“Ugh.” Spencer covers his face. “Please don’t remind me.”
It had only been a month ago, Spencer’s date with the sister of one of Derek’s friends. She’d been nice enough, according to Spencer, but you’d sensed more had happened he didn’t want to dive into. There was likely an underlying judgment that Spencer’s encountered too many times to not be sensitive to.
But Spencer always got nervous about these things too. He had a habit of psyching himself out. For a long time, the only woman he’d ever had a full conversation with was you.
The TV screen freezes. You groan and get up, putting your mug down.
“Try moving the antenna,” he says.
“Yeah. The FBI should give flat-screen TVs for Christmas bonuses.”
You play around with the antennas. When that doesn’t work, you turn off the TV. It’s not an exact science—whether the TV wants to play or not is up to forces out of your control. Spencer thinks you have the magic touch, though.
“That date was pretty bad, wasn’t it?” you ask, checking the wires behind the TV. You wiggle them around and try plugging and unplugging stuff.
“No,” Spencer says lightly, in that mild, polite tone that might work on a stranger but hasn’t worked on you since fifth grade.
“Spencer…”
“It wasn’t!” he says. “Honestly, it wasn’t even her, it was… I don’t know. I felt so silly doing it. Like I was a kid trying to do adult things.”
“You are an adult. Is it playing?”
“No. Yeah, I know I am, but I also feel so behind. Like everybody learned stuff I didn’t and now I can’t do a simple thing like go on a date with a woman.”
“You’re not behind—ouch!” The TV shocks you and you snatch your hand back, grimacing.
Spencer stands up. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. Where was I? Right. You’re not behind, Spence, you’re the smartest person I know. You’re the smartest person most people know.”
It’s quiet for a moment. Then Spencer suddenly appears, kneeling next to you. You grin.
“Hi,” you say.
“Hi. You don’t have to get shocked so we can watch a movie. I can pull it up on my laptop.”
“No, I’m gonna make this work. Here, hold this.”
You hand Spencer a wire. He obediently holds it while you fiddle with the back of the TV.
“She tried to kiss me,” Spencer says quietly.
You pause and look at him. “Who did?”
“The woman Derek set me up with.”
“Oh.” You put down the wire—you’re starting to get the feeling that this is the kind of conversation that can’t be had while you’re trying to fix a TV. “You didn’t tell me that. Did you?”
“No.” Spencer scowls. “I chickened out. I just… Derek would’ve told me to just kiss her because she was pretty and she wanted me. But I didn’t want to. And that’s so stupid, ‘cause I should’ve, right?”
“Spencer, there’s no rule for when you should and shouldn’t kiss someone as long as both parties want to kiss,” you say.
“Yeah, but I’ve never kissed anybody. I’m twenty-five and I’ve never kissed anyone. How pathetic is that?”
You frown and turn to face Spencer fully. “Hey. C’mon, where’s this coming from? You know I don’t think any less of you for never kissing or dating or any of that stuff. You do it when you wanna. And I’d tell anyone that. I’m not just telling you ‘cause you’re my best friend.”
“I know, but…” Spencer shakes his head and it hurts to see him so defeated. “I told that woman that I hadn’t kissed anyone and that’s why I didn’t kiss her. And the look she gave me was so… I-I’ve gotten that look before, but… and I could just tell she was thinking freak, freak!”
“Spencer,” you say, voice cracked like an egg, and his name is the soft yolk spilling out. “Oh, Spence. You’re not a freak. I told you that when we were fourteen and I still mean it. Nothing is wrong with you for never kissing anyone. And someone who thinks there is isn’t a person you want to be intimate with anyway.”
He sighs. “I just feel like I’m falling behind.”
You press your lips together. Then you make a decision and stand.
“Come on,” you say, offering your hand.
Spencer takes your hand and lets you pull him up. “Where’re we going?”
“To the couch,” you say, more casual than you feel.
Spencer follows you to the couch and you sit. You take a deep breath.
“Who would you want to have your first kiss with?” you ask.
He shrugs. “No one comes to mind.”
You bite your lip. “What about me?”
Spencer blinks. “I—what?”
Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with all of Spencer’s attention on you. It doesn’t normally overwhelm you but considering the circumstances…
“Well, um. It would be low-pressure, right? I mean, we’ve known each other for so long.”
Spencer licks his lips. You track the movement, then look away, embarrassed.
“I guess so,” he says. “But won’t it be weird? Kissing each other?”
Yeah, probably. “No, I don’t think so. Well, a little, but it’s just so you don’t feel out of sorts when you go on a date. It’s, like, practice.” That last point feels a little weak.
“Practice,” Spencer repeats.
“Yeah.”
It’s still and silent for several painful moments, and that’s when you contemplate bolting and changing your address. But then Spencer speaks.
“Okay,” he says. “If you’re definitely sure about it.”
“I am,” you say.
He nods. You take that as an invitation to scoot closer so you’re facing each other. Spencer brings one knee up so you can be within kissing distance.
“So, um.” You clear your throat. “So when you kiss someone, it’s important to find a place for your hands. They can be on their face or their waist or arms.”
Spencer nods. “Got it. Like this?”
He puts his hands on your waist. You stutter on your next breath. You hope Spencer doesn’t notice.
Look, you’re not blind, okay? Spencer’s tall and cute and smart and a sweetheart and your roommate in college once commented on how he’s got hands made to finger a woman, which you’ve never been able to forget, much as you’ve tried.
So yeah. You know your best friend’s good looking. You know he’s a catch.
Does that mean you can be absolutely emotionless while kissing him? Not so much.
But you love Spencer. You’d do anything for him.
“Yeah, good.” You drape your hands loosely around his neck, his curls tickling your fingers. “Okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then you make eye contact but not too much. Don’t scare them.”
Spencer smiles with half of his mouth. “Don’t scare them. Noted.”
You roll your eyes. “Smartass. Alright, then you, um…”
“Kiss?” he asks.
You nod. “Y-yeah. Then you lean in and kiss.”
You press your lips to Spencer’s lightly. His mouth is soft but he’s stiff, which means he’s going to kiss stiffly.
“Relax, Spencestar,” you say against his mouth. “‘S okay. Part your lips a little.”
“Like this?” he asks, his mouth losing some tension.
“Exactly. Fit your lips to mine.”
Spencer’s warm, his breath tickling your mouth. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat right up your throat and into Spencer.
“I read about kissing,” he says. “For research.”
That makes you smile, a short laugh slipping out. You rest your forehead on his mouth by accident.
“What?” he asks against your skin, smile clear in his voice. The sensation gives you shivers.
“Nothing. You’re sweet, Spence,” you say.
You lift your head and close your eyes. And then you kiss him.
Spencer kisses gently, which you never thought about in-depth, but experiencing it now, it makes sense that he does. He’s so gentle in everything else, from the way he opens doors to letting you have the last bite of pasta. Of course Spencer kisses the way he lives in the world: kindly.
Your hands slip to his jaw to guide him. Your kisses are short first, to warm him up. You feel Spencer’s pulse in his neck under your palm, feel his easy hold on your hips, the way he twists a loose thread on your shirt.
“You can be a little more firm. Move your hands around,” you say, and Spencer nods.
He kisses you with a little more pressure, ever the quick learner. His hands travel up your spine and down, like he’s soothing you. It makes an unexpected sob work up your throat and you quickly swallow it down.
You thread your hand through his hair, your senses completely surrounded by him. Spencer’s more confident now, pulling you into him slightly, curving your back with his palms.
And before you do something really stupid, like kiss his neck or tell him you love him, you pull back. Spencer’s eyes fly open when yours do.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks.
“No, no. You were good. That was good, Spencer. I just, uh… we’ve been kissing for a while, so I figured…”
“Oh.” His face turns pink. “Right, yeah.”
“Yeah.” You scratch your neck. “But that was good. It just takes practice.”
Spencer nods a lot. “Yes, of course. Like any skill.”
“Exactly.”
You drink your Ovaltine, needing to put your attention on anything but Spencer’s kiss-swollen lips. The Ovaltine is cold. You make a face.
“I’ll reheat it,” Spencer says, practically leaping from the couch. “Be right back.”
“I’ll try to get the movie started,” you say, making a beeline for the TV.
You turn it on, trying to calm your fluttering heart. This time, the movie plays with no issues. Of course when you want it to have issues so you don’t have to be curled up next to Spencer on the couch, it doesn’t. Figures.
Hesitantly, you return to the couch. Spencer comes out a few minutes later with your reheated mugs. He gives you yours and sits on the far end of the couch.
“Want the blanket?” you ask.
He shakes his head. “I’m okay. I warmed up.”
The movie continues from where it froze. You and Spencer watch that one, then Home Alone 2, then the Muppets Christmas Carol.
And it’s fine, it’s normal. It’s normal, except you’ve just kissed your best friend. And Spencer doesn’t curl up next to you under the blanket for the rest of the night. You get this sinking feeling, wondering if catching your best friend up comes at a bigger cost than you thought.
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