You Lit Me Up

A little fic inspired by James Arthur’s Say You Won’t Let Go and written for the lovely and wonderful @booksrockmyface On the occasion of her 31st birthday! Love you best friend!

“Can’t I at least stir or something?” Peeta asked anxiously. Katniss shook her head without looking at him.

“You are such a control freak.” she said teasingly. “It’s Father’s Day. Relax.”

“I’m a father, I don’t relax.” he shot back.

“Well, if you go round up the kids and let me handle dinner, once everyone is gone and they are asleep, we can relax together.” Katniss said, grinning at her husband over her shoulder.

Peeta’s stomach swooped. He and Katniss had been married for almost 15 years and she still took his breath away. He stood and turned up the music that had been playing softly through the speaker in the kitchen. “Dance with me.” he said.

Katniss spun around to look at him. “Peeta, I’m in the middle of cooking dinner.” she said with a laugh.

Peeta walked up to her and took her in his arms. “Dinner can wait.” he said. Katniss rolled her eyes but looped her arms around his neck anyway.

They began to sway to the beat of the music, smiling at each other. “This is kinda like the night we met.” she said softly.

“Yeah, except hopefully no one is going to throw up.” Peeta said, his smile widening.

Katniss laughed, “I was never that drunk before and I haven’t been since.”

Peeta hummed. “Good thing I’m such a gentleman.” he said.

“Yeah, good thing.” Katniss said. She stopped dancing and rolled up on her toes to kiss him. He responded enthusiastically wrapping his arms more tightly around her and deepening the kiss.

Katniss maneuvered them toward the stove and turned off the burner under the alfredo sauce, which Peeta was embarrassed to realize he had forgotten about. The embarrassment didn’t last long however, because Katniss sighed against his lips which sent a thrill right down to the soles of his feet.

He turned and lifted Katniss until the kitchen island was underneath her ass and turned his attention to her neck. A genuinely filthy moan escaped her lips and Peeta groaned.

A shout from behind them caused them to freeze. “Dude that’s gross, I eat in here.” Gale said.

Peeta, who had pressed his forehead to Katniss’s while they both tried to catch their breath, narrowed his eyes. “We gave you that key for emergencies, Hawthorn, not so you could barge in anytime you please.”

“Whatever, perv.” he said. “Where are my niblings?”

Katniss rolled her eyes. Peeta stepped back and she slid of the counter and down to the floor. “In their rooms, working on homework…at least I hope that’s what they’re doing.”

“Homework?” Gale said with a scowl. “They’re in second and fourth grade, why do they have homework?” he wandered off before they had a chance to answer his question.

“I wish he’d just ask Prim out and stop making lame excuses to hang out around here.” Peeta said.

“He’s my best friend.” Katniss protested. “And the kids adore him.”

Rather than answer her, he leaned forward and brushed a kiss against Katniss’s lips. “I love you, Katniss Mellark.” he said softly.

Katniss sighed and gave him a quick hard kiss. “I love you too, Peeta Mellark.” and with that she turned back to the stove to try and salvage the dinner.

During Jack and Bitty’s 2nd summer together...

So Jack is in Georgia for a couple of days, right, and he comes back from a morning run to find both Bittle parents in the kitchen eating breakfast (Bitty slowly dragging is ass out of bed, he can hear the bathroom upstairs). 

Suzanne greets him with a smile, Coach with a nod, Jack sits down to eat. Usually, there’s a fair amount of chatter- even without Bitty- because Jack is comfortable with both parents, but now they’re eating in silence. Throwing furtive glances at Jack. At each other. At Jack again.

Jack’s stars feeling the tingle in his fingers that announces his anxiety. He counts the seconds until Bitty leaves the bathroom- no, that was the sound of the shower. Alright then.

Suzanne places her mug back on the table.

- Jack, sweetheart, we need to talk to you.

Coach takes a sip of coffee and sits back straight.

- …Alright? says Jack.

- We’ve seen the way you look at Junior, says Coach in a matter-of-fact voice.

(more under the cut)

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Red Roses

I saw this adorable art from @the-sacred-pecan-pie and needed to write something about all those roses. 

His mama saved the flowers from the bouquet she carried when she walked down the aisle.

Bitty found them when he was five years old and bored and snooping through his parents room.

He found a stack of photo albums beneath old sweaters and dress shoes that his daddy rarely ever wore.

The first one was old and musty and filled with people he had never seen before in black and white and yellowing at the corners.

He quickly pushed that one out of the way and kept opening up new ones until the photos switched to color and he started to recognize his moomaw and his mama.

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omgcpwomenfest femlash/wlw day

Georgia Martin/Suzanne Bittle based on @des-zimbits Gay Hockey Moms AU

Happiness Is Homemade

also on Ao3

MooMaw’s kitchen is always filled with light.

It’s pouring through the windows above the sink and filtering through the blue and white checked curtains that hang above it.

Eric sits on the counter, right in the middle of a sun beam, and swings his little feet against the cabinets below as he licks brownie batter off a wooden spoon.

MooMaw has the phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear as she uses a spatula to scrape the last of the batter into the pan.

The cord stretches from the wall and Eric extends a sock covered foot out towards it and tries to touch it with his toes.

It sags before he can get to it as she steps forward and takes the spoon from him.

He only has a second to pout before she’s putting the spatula in the bowl and the bowl in his lap and ruffling his hair.

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After Bitty comes out to his parents:

Suzanne: Richard, I’m warning you right now, if you don’t accept our son as he is, I’m leaving you for Bob Zimmermann.

Coach: Isn’t he married?

Suzanne: I’m leaving you for Bob AND Alicia Zimmermann.