#so I’m not surprised that I can’t with you either

[norrisainz33]

Party time || ln4

☆ summary: y/n throws a end of season party party and the grid find out ln and y/n have been keeping a little secret

☆ pairing: lando norris x leclerc!reader x platonic!grid

☆ fc & warnings: slightly suggestive! you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: nope! this has been in my drafts for months

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

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ynleclerc: waiting for everyone to get home from this triple header so we can celebrate like …..

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arthur_leclerc: i’m literally sitting next to you do i mean nothing

ynleclerc: uhh yeah you’re not alex or rebecca or carmen or lily or lily or kika or leo

arthur_leclerc: blocked

charlesleclerc: wow leo gets a mention and not me?

ynleclerc: oui

alexandrasaintmleux: leo and i miss you. we’re counting down the days 🤍

charlesleclerc: mon amour 😫 don’t encourage her

ynleclerc: f off charles! that’s my girl!

user1: the leclerc’s and their beauty needs to be studied

scuderiaferrari: you are always welcome to join us y/n 🤍

ynleclerc: merci admin 😘

user2: is the sun bothering you queen 🔫

landonorris: perhaps you should just come to abu dhabi?? ever think of that!

ynleclerc: omg no never thought of that once!!!

landonorris: y/n/n

user4: is it wrong to say i ship these 2

user3: y/n really said i’m bored pay attention to me and she’s so real for that

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logansargeant: who is on this private story?? need to know who is invited before i even consider showing up

ynleclerc: just abt the whole grid, my favorite girlies, kyle, patito, and bunch of my other friends - some you know !!

logansargeant: i’ll only go if kyle goes

yourbff: i can’t wait!!!!!!

ynleclerc: me either bestie i miss you

alexandrasaintmleux: i am so excited! i got the finishing touches for my outfit today 🤭

ynleclerc: yessss i can’t wait to see it!! you’re going to look stunning 🤩

alexandrasaintmleux: so are you gorgeous girl

charlesleclerc: Puis-je te convaincre de changer de tenue ? [can i convince you to change your outfit?]

ynleclerc: absolument pas [absolutely not]

charlesleclerc: mais mes collègues vont te voir et je ne peux pas les laisser avoir des idées [but my coworkers are going to see you and i can’t have them getting any ideas]

ynleclerc: tant pis pour toi 😘 [too bad for you]

landonorris: are costumes required for this party?

ynleclerc: no but wouldn’t be a problem because you’re already a clown?

landonorris: and ya know what i hate you

ynleclerc: no you do not muppet

georgerussell63: we’re all going to need this after the season 😫

ynleclerc: no doubt georgie especially bc you were stuck in that tractor

georgerussell63: 💀

iamrebeccad: carlos asked why he’s not on the invite and i said it’s because you love me more and now he’s pouting

ynleclerc: a big big baby he is

iamrebeccad: the biggest

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ynleclerc: you may as well have been!!

charlesleclerc: oh so you missed me?

ynleclerc: yes i don’t want to deal with arthur alone anymore

charlesleclerc: i knew it

carlossainz55: wow she didn’t show up to greet me like this???

charlesleclerc: you know the only reason she came to pick me up is because alex and leo were involved

landonorris: where tf was my invite

charlesleclerc: don’t think i don’t know about your little crush on my baby sister

landonorris: gonna have to have a chat w carlos huh

alexandrasaintmleux: my baby girl

charlesleclerc: yes yes you love her i know

arthur_leclerc: she’s so dramatic and for what

charlesleclerc: yes but she is our sister so we must be nice

arthur_leclerc: 🤓☝🏻

iamrebeccad: my two most favorite girls

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ynleclerc: surprised you know what a grwm is

carlossainz55: i’m not that old hermana

charlesleclerc: how are you the favorite friend ?!

carlossainz55: my charm and overall superiority

charlesleclerc: 🙄

landonorris: sooooo carlos… you told charles about my thing for y/n??????????

carlossainz55: what? no i did not!

landonorris: but you’re the only one i told!!!!

carlossainz55: … i may have told rebecca and she may have told alex who may have told charles

landonorris: mate 😭😭😭

carlossainz55: i’m sorry

landonorris: do you think charles knows the full extent?

carlossainz55: rebecca doesn’t think he does

landonorris: great so i can at least keep some of my dignity 😔

alexandrasaintmleux: eeek so cute

arthur_leclerc: you forgot to actually mention that you’re on set up duty not grwm duty

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user2: omg it’s annual end of year party time im so sat i hope the drivers are there and get messy

user3: bisexuality is truly a beautiful thing

alexandrasaintmleux: 😫 mon amour you are stunning

ynleclerc: i love youuuu

landonorris: i’m gonna miss you when i scroll……

ynleclerc: 🤭 good thing you get to see me in real life so no need for missing me

landonorris: so true y/n/n. see you soon 😉

yourbff: i’m foaming at the mouth

patriciooward: 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

ynleclerc: so excited to see you patty

user16: god ur perfect

user22: screw your brothers, i want you

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charlesleclerc: that little gremlin better not be with my sister

carlossainz55: 💀💀💀💀

arthur_leclerc: trying the insta story means he must have really disappeared

carlossainz55: i can’t find him anywhere in this house

yourbff: i can’t find y/n/n either

carlossainz55: charles is gonna have a fit

iamrebeccad: hehhe i think i found him

carlossainz55: oh mi amor where is he?

iamrebeccad: he is with y/n

carlossainz55: where?

iamrebeccad: you can’t get mad at him

carlossainz55: it’s not me you should be worried about

iamrebeccad: they snuck out to get pizza and go to lando’s

alexandrasaintmleux: i may have kept somethings from you and charles 😔

carlossainz55: alex what do you know

alexandrasaintmleux: y/n/n and lando have been seeing each other on the down low for a couple weeks now

carlossainz55: mi amiga 😫 you better butter up charles or his head is gonna explode when he finds this out

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user2: Y/N THIS IS UR PUBLIC STORY

user3: screaming y/n what is this

charlesleclerc: y/n y/m/n leclerc - this is your public story. where are you both right now?

ynleclerc: OOPS!!!!!!!!

charlesleclerc: yeah oops for sure… where are you??

charlesleclerc: ma sœur stop leaving me on read

lilymhe: ARE YOU BOYH AT THE PIZZA SHOP RN HAHAAH

ynleclerc: Y E S!! i wanted pizza and lando was kind enough to take me

lilymhe: so is this like a thing now?

ynleclerc: i think so yes 🤭

lilymhe: omg you’re an evil, sinister, orange girl now 😭

ynleclerc: SCREAMING

user4: y/n it’s 3am what are you two doing rn

carmenmundt: baby what is this

ynleclerc: 😔 i tried to simp on private but messed up

carmenmundt: obsessed but also how is this how i found out??

ynleclerc: i tried to tell you at the dior show but got scared. this is all so new

carmenmundt: no need to be scared darling!! i am very good at keeping secrets but you let this cat out of the bag it seems

user7: omg are you guys together???

user8: drunken hard launch? girl i love you so much you’re my idol

user9: raw! next question

alexandrasaintmleux: hehehe tea

ynleclerc: is charles breathing still?

alexandrasaintmleux: oh don’t worry about your big brother. he’ll be fine. tell me about LANDO

ynleclerc: he is a dream alex 😭😭😭😭

ynleclerc: we made things official 🥹

alexandrasaintmleux: YESSSSSSS LETS GO ITS ABOUT TIME

user5: y/nlando truthers are UP rn

georgerussell63: laughing hysterically at this

ynleclerc: george shut up

georgerussell63: never

user6: guess your party is going well 😂😂😂

[this post has been deleted by user]

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carlossainz55: mate why won’t you respond to your texts

landonorris: i’m sorry im sorry got a bit caught up

carlossainz55: are you having fun?

landonorris: yes 🥹 we got pizza and she admitted she liked me a lot and wanted to make things official

carlossainz55: why didn’t you tell me you two had been hanging out for a while now???

landonorris: i didn’t want to 1) jinx it or 2) put you in an uncomfortable position with charles 😭

carlossainz55: gracias for thinking of me but i’m always here for you cabron

charlesleclerc: no funny business lando or i’ll run you off the road

landonorris: wouldn’t dream of any funny business charles

lilymhe: i hope yall remember this in the morning 💀

landonorris: actually ☝🏻 we are basically sober

oscarpiastri: you stealing the host of the party to take her to get pizza then to your house is crazy work mate

landonorris: i didn’t steal her 😭

oscarpiastri: then why she not at her own party bro

landonorris: bc she wanted pizza

oscsrpiastri: yea so you stole her

landonorris: 😔

maxfewtrell: get that girl 😤

landonorris: i did mate 🤩

danielriccardo: and who is this?

landonorris: y/n leclerc

danielriccardo: a leclerc?!

landonorris: the leclerc yes

danielriccardo: good job kid

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ynleclerc: happy new year from me and mine 🥂✨

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iamrebeccad: stunning 😭

user14: don’t think we don’t recognize those curls on the last slide y/n

georgerussell63: i’m still laughing btw

ynleclerc: and what if i said i hate you

georgerussell63: i’d know you were lying 😘

user23: y/n, alex, rebecca and carmen doing everything together is so important to me you don’t understand

charlesleclerc: wow i made the cut?

ynleclerc: *leo made the cut

charlesleclerc: a brother can dream huh

user45: i love how we are swiftly moving on from that story and back to our regular programming 😭

landonorris: yours you say?

ynuser: perhaps 🫣

alexandrasaintmleux: tea

user47: how am i supposed to be normal about this

user81: don’t edge us omg

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charlesleclerc: please don’t post things like this with my sister

landonorris: i have to show her off charles. she’s too pretty to not be posted 🥹

charlesleclerc: you got me there but i don’t like it mate

landonorris: i’ll treat her right - i promise

oscarpiastri: i’m so glad i don’t have to hear you cry about her anymore 🧡

landonorris: you’ll still hear me crying osc dw

user4: HARD LAUNCH CITY

ynleclerc: you’re so cute im obsessed with you

landonorris: i am the luckiest man on earth

ynleclerc: lando 😭😭

user10: you calling her a gift is sickeningly cute

alexandrasaintmleux: be good to my girl ok? leo and i both will kill you if you hurt her

landonorris: i will! i promise! she is everything i have ever wanted and more and im not going to give that up any time soon

alexandrasaintmleux: music to my ears 🤍

user87: BOTH! i want you BOTH

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[blissfullsvn]

if i say, i love you

summary. after a long day, all you really want is to be in taesan’s arms.

pairing. han taesan x reader genre. fluff, established relationship word count. 0.9k warnings. n/a a/n. fun fact: this wasn’t the original taesan fic i wanted to post for his bday bcs stms it’s easier to write sth in 3 hrs than finish a draft you’ve had for the past 5 months 👩‍🦯 but as always, please enjoy this, and i hope everyone gets to have their own taesan in their lives :) masterlist

you and taesan have never been overly touchy with each other. it’s not that you both dislike physical touch; you just tend to express your feelings more often through quiet moments spent together.

today, however, you need taesan more than ever.

you trudge inside your shared apartment, your body feeling unbearably heavy. taesan is sitting on the sofa with headphones and his ipad propped up on his knees, a contemplative look on his face. it’s a familiar sight, one that occurs whenever a new idea for a composition strikes in his head and he has to record it down immediately, so you usually leave him alone to not disrupt his creative process.

seeing this, you force yourself to stand by the door, hoping for at least a greeting before you can retreat inside your room—if your boyfriend was busy, you’d rather break down without him seeing.

almost immediately, taesan looks up and smiles, the kind where his eyes are squeezed into crescents and whiskers appear under them. but when he finally sees you, he instantly plants his feet on the floor, setting his ipad aside and ripping off his headphones.

“y/n?” his voice is soft and gentle. he always treats you like a delicate flower; it makes you feel like you can fall apart in his presence and he’ll be there to pick up your pieces.

“y/n,” he calls again, and he’s about to get up before you briskly walk towards him and all but jump on him.

with your knees on either side of him, you wrap your arms around his neck and drop your head on his shoulder. noticeably, taesan tenses at the uncharted touch, and a moment of hesitation lingers. but his arms quickly shoot up to envelop you, hands resting firmly on either side of your torso as he holds you tightly against himself.

he remains silent, letting you take in his warmth as he gently caresses your back. you nuzzle against his neck, wanting to get as close to him as you can. despite his surprise at your touch, he doesn’t make it known and mirrors your actions, nosing your collarbone as he pulls you even closer.

you thought you would break into tears immediately in his arms, but the more you lean into his touch, the more you feel your weariness dissipate, until the huge lump in your throat eventually melts as well.

sensing your breathing calm down and your body turning lax against his, he places a kiss on your neck and whispers against your skin: “i’m here.” it’s a simple declaration; two words that neither push you to speak nor stop you from sharing, but just to remind you that, whatever it is, he’s always by your side.

“i… had a bad day today,” you begin, and taesan’s hold on you never once falters. as you tell him about what happened, his fingers continuously draw idle circles on your back, and he hums softly to reassure you that he’s listening.

“how do you feel now?” taesan, gentle as ever, asks after you stop talking.

“...a lot better,” you confess and nuzzle against his neck again, landing a peck there to emphasize your point.

“i’m glad.” the smile is evident from his voice alone, even if you can’t see his face.

a few more moments of silence pass between you, the two of you simply relishing each other’s company. it’s only when you catch taesan’s ipad light up with a notification from your peripheral vision that you remember what he had been doing before your almost-break-down.

you pull yourself away, but your hands remain on his shoulders, as do his on your waist. “you were composing something before this, right?” your eyebrows are knitted in guilt, lips jutting out similarly. “sorry, i didn’t mean to interrupt you… you can continue now.”

“no, don’t apologise,” taesan replies immediately, shaking his head. he reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ears and smiles, fondness seeping from every pore, “i’ll always put you before anything else.”

it’s strange how the emotions you initially expected to spill over from your negative experiences today are now threatening to escape from these seven words instead. with the lump returning to your throat once again, you don’t trust your voice to speak.

instead, you move your hands to cup his face and lean down to place your lips on his, letting your body do the talking instead.

with every movement, your feelings translate from your heart to his. his grip on your waist tightens as he cranes his neck to capture more and more of these feelings, until both of you are rendered breathless from all the emotions filling your bodies, squeezing around your ribs, your lungs, and your hearts.

when you pull away, the dazed look on taesan is something that you want to carve into your mind forever. for someone who’s never uncomposed, the fact that he’s been rendered like this, and because of you, makes your insides twist with something far greater than you can explain.

“i love you.”

for now, you’ll settle with the word ‘love.’

© blissfullsvn 2024. All Rights Reserved.

[gardenwalrus]

Paul McCartney at Wings' Christmas photo shoot, 1979(?)

PaulMcCartney.com Q&A (19 December 2022):

Q: When you first released ‘Wonderful Christmastime’, did you think it was going to be a Christmas hit that would come back every year? Or does it surprise you that it’s still so popular now? Paul: I like the idea of Christmas songs purely because they only come around at Christmas! They remind us of the fun atmosphere of the whole season, and when I was writing ‘Wonderful Christmastime’ I was trying to capture that party aspect. I did hope it would keep coming back – which it has. Sometimes people will go into a shop and hear it a little too much, but I don’t care! I’m happy!

Q: We really wanted to ask you about this ‘Wonderful Christmastime’ fan theory that has gone viral on social media. The theory suggests the song is about people practising witchcraft, chanting ‘the moon is right, the spirit’s up’, and when someone walks in, they must play it cool and pretend they are ‘simply having a wonderful Christmastime!’. Is this theory true? Paul: Oh yeah. Well, thank goodness they found me out. This is completely true and in actual fact I am the head wizard of a Liverpool coven. (Paul laughs) Either that… or it’s complete nonsense. And you know it’s the latter! Q: This theory may have come from people mishearing the lyrics. Could you confirm if the lyric is ‘the moon is right’ or ‘the mood is right’? Paul: It’s ‘the mood’! This is the mood; I’ve gathered together the witches and wizards… I’ve got ‘the mood’, which is what we in wizardry call it (laughs). The thing is about this stuff, it’s so easy to convince half the people in the world. You do have to be a little bit careful! No, it’s ‘the mood’. And you know what, I’m thinking about Liverpool Christmas parties, that’s really all I’m doing with that song. “The mood is right, let’s raise a glass, the spirit’s up” – you know, all the stuff you do at Christmas. Particularly with my old Liverpool family parties. Q: You’ve spoken before about singing around the piano at parties in Liverpool, and in ‘Wonderful Christmastime’ the choir ‘sing their song’ - but do you have any memories of going carolling at Christmas? Paul: I can’t remember ever having done it, so I probably didn’t. The fun thing about Christmas carolling, that probably would have influenced my decision NOT to do it, was that my dad always used to make fun of them. He'd say, ‘Here’s a shilling to go sing in the next street’. He was not a big fan of Christmas carols. I quite like them! Q: Are there any Christmas traditions from your childhood which you have continued into adulthood, and shared with your own children and grandchildren? Paul: I have actually started some new traditions. When the kids were little, I suddenly thought there wasn’t the ideal Christmas record, in my opinion. There’s some great Christmas records like the Phil Spector one, and Nat King Cole and Bing Crosby on the old standards, but I just wanted an instrumental of all the tunes. So, I ended up recording one for the family in my studio. And Eddie Klein, my engineer at the time, helped me. I now have this album I pull out every year, and it’s a bit of fun for the kids when we’re carving the veggie roast. I’ll stick it on and it means Christmas is here. It’s quite a cute little record actually! But it’s just for the family. Q: Some fans already know this exists, it’s part of the Paul McCartney folklore! I think they’re hoping to hear it one day. Paul: I’ve often thought it’s good enough if people would like it released, and I’ve thought I could do it for charity or something, but never really felt strongly enough to make a decision. It’s just a family record, and I’ll pull it out again this Christmas. My main job is to carve the roast. That was one of the things I liked when we became veggie years ago. I said it would be nice for me to able to do what I thought of as the traditional ‘dad’ job, so that’s the carving of the turkey in the old days, and now it’s the carving of the veggie roast. I normally do that – unless someone gets in there first, and I get miffed! Steady on! So yeah, I put on the Christmas record, carve the roast, and then we do all the normal Christmas things. Christmas crackers and reading out all the terrible jokes and trying to really be happy with the little gift that comes inside, which is something you’re never going to use or keep. This is the spirit of Christmas! We mainly do all the stuff that everyone else does at Christmas time.

[wstviewvidal]

pas de deux- w. maximoff

summary: who knew a four year old could be your wingman

pairing: rich!wanda x r

a/n: hi beautiful ppl! second part of dc is here! i have nothing to say except we love valerie

minors do not interact

it’s been two weeks since the word spill incident— as your friend likes to call it. two weeks since wanda maximoff has occupied your mind like an uninvited guest you can’t get rid of. two weeks of face-palming yourself after replaying the conversation you two had at the bar.

your friend definitely hasn’t let you live it down either. you two were on a call a few days ago where she decided it was the perfect time to remind you that you were an idiot and how you practically told wanda that her organization was terrible and didn’t serve a true purpose— and she was right.

part of you wishes you could find a way to reach out to her to apologize and make amends, but the other part of you feels she’s already forgotten about you and your foolish remarks. maybe that was the truth— maybe wanda had already forgotten about you.

you shake off the overwhelming thoughts and take in a deep breath before you exit your car with the bouquet of pink flowers from the passenger seat. tonight wasn’t about you or your overthinking— it was about your niece. valerie had been begging you to come to her ballet recital for weeks, and how could you say no to the curly haired girl with big brown eyes and an overly convincing pout?

so, here you were for the little girl with a bouquet just about the same size as her.

you weren’t much of a ballet or theater kid growing up, but your niece had a true love for the stage— the dramatics of it all and who were you to not support her? her enthusiasm for the art had been unexpected, but you couldn’t help but admire her for it.

your niece is the light of your life and you often find yourself always agreeing to whatever she asks. she has you wrapped around her tiny finger, not that you mind.

the auditorium is buzzing with chatter and excitement as you get in line alongside parents to enter the theater. you glance around and smile softly while holding the flowers close— this isn’t your crowd, but the reminder that it’s for your niece is what pushes you through.

while the line inches forward, you put your phone on do not disturb. heels click behind you as you replay the last time you came to her performance. you don’t pay mind to the sound that’s getting closer until you feel a soft tap on your left shoulder.

you turn around and low and behold is the woman who’s lived in your mind for the past two weeks, wanda.

your eyes widen just the slightest bit and wanda grins at your surprised expression. “and here i was thinking i’d never see you again,” she says, light laughter filling the air between you two.

you blush almost instantly and smile widely at her, “wanda! hi, how are you? what are you doing here?”

wanda subtly looks you over, admiring your casually put together outfit, “i’m better now that i’m seeing you,” you try to hide an even deeper blush, “this is one of the schools that my company sponsors— we help out with the after school programs. i wanted to come out and see the recital.”

wanda speaks with pride, something you’ve grown to admire about her—her genuine love for what she does. maybe you were wrong in doubting her and her company.

wanda looks down to the flowers in your hands and tilts her head in curiosity, “do you always carry around bouquets this big or is there someone special here tonight?”

“my niece is performing, i promised her i’d be here. she’s the only one who can boss me around and get away with it.” you gesture to the pink flowers in your hand and laugh a bit.

nodding along with a warm grin, she admires the flowers, “that’s really sweet. not everyone gets an adult like that in their lives.”

nodding to her statement as the line moves forward into the seating area and you turn to wanda, “you could sit with me if you’d like.”

you try to extend an olive branch to the businesswoman, the soft look in your eyes is making it impossible for wanda to say no.

“if that’s alright with you,” she follows alongside you to a seat in the middle of the auditorium.

what wanda didn’t tell you is that she normally has a specific reserved spot during these events in case she has to leave earlier than expected.

but sitting with you seems much nicer.

as the house lights begin to dim, wanda leans over and gestures to the flowers. “here, let me hold them and i’ll hand them back when you need them.”

you smile gratefully and hand them over to wanda with a soft thank you.

the classical track plays on the speakers and you can see the small children with their tutus filing in stage. your niece isn’t hard to spot, fourth from the right. you beam with pride as she spots you in the audience after scanning up and down for her aunt. wanda gazes at you with a flicker of admiration as you clap and cheer for the little girl who is dancing.

“there she is. that one’s mine, valerie,” you point to the small brunette with the slightly cooked bun and impossibly large grin plastered on her face.

she follows your direction, then turning back to you. wanda’s gaze lingers— not on your niece, but on you. there’s something in the way you light up when you watch the little girl that catches wanda off guard.

“beautiful.” she murmurs, so low you barely catch what she says.

perhaps wanda was foolish to think that of you already. maybe this is the reason she always finds herself in relationships with people who never truly see her for who she is— just what she can bring to the table.

or maybe it’s the way you treat wanda like a person worth getting to know that has her gravitating towards you. the way you lit up for your niece caught wanda off guard. she couldn’t remember the last time her heart rate sped up that fast at the sight of someone’s smile.

as the show comes to a close, the small children bow and wave to their respective adults. you turn to wanda with a laugh, “those kids are so much more entertaining than an actual professional dancers.”

wanda nods along with a chuckle, standing up with the bouquet, “oh, i absolutely agree. should we go find her?”

you nod and stand up after wanda, “yes please,” you tilt your head with a subtle teasing grin at wanda, “would you like to meet her?”

wanda’s heart beats a bit faster and she finds herself agreeing before she can even consider saying no. the softness in your voice and the way you tilt your head makes it hard to decline. so you two stand in the foyer as she holds the flowers while you scan for your niece.

the little girl comes out with a grin that almost covers her whole face, “auntie!” the little girl jumps into your arms and hugs you.

wanda observes the scene in front of her with loving eyes, the scene rich. she’s holding the flowers with a firm grip, like someone would come by and snatch them from her. why is she nervous to meet a four year old?

she has no idea, but she does know that her heart is racing.

maybe she’s already found herself in too deep way too early.

the little girl turns to wanda with a shy expression, giving a nervous wave as you introduce wanda to her.

“this is wanda,” you gesture to the taller woman next to you, “she’s our friend.”

wanda crouches down to your niece’s height with a friendly smile, “hi miss valerie,” she says softly, “you did amazing! you were the true star of the show.”

that won your niece over. she giggles and begins blabbering to wanda about how much she practiced and enjoyed getting ready. wanda is actively listening and conversing with the small girl, giving her complete attention to the tiny ballerina. it surprises you how easily the two have fallen into a comfortable conversation.

wanda’s eyes meet yours for the briefest of moments and you two smile warmly. there’s something unspoken there— something warm and genuine that lingers between the two of you.

your niece grabs wanda’s hand, “are you coming with us to dinner?” her big brown eyes looking up at wanda with a small pleading expression.

wanda hesitates for a second and looks over to you with a nervous look, while you laugh at the scene in front of you. “i told you she’s hard to say no to.”

the three of you arrive to a italian restaurant and wanda holds the door open for you two, her hand on the small of your back as she ushers you two inside while you hold the tiny girl’s hand. you’re sat in a booth, wanda across from the two of you who is enjoying talking to your niece about her favorite class and four year old drama.

“she’s normally a super shy kid,” you whisper to wanda in awe as the little girl is momentarily distracted with a breadstick.

wanda watches the little girl with a warm look in her eye then turns to you, “she’s like her aunt, hard to resist.”

you chuckle and playfully roll your eyes, turning back to the little girl to fix the small curls that have popped out of her bun. the warmth in wanda’s words make your heart flutter.

you three eat over a family style italian meal and when the waitress comes back to ask if you’d like dessert, you go to say no— but wanda turns to valerie with a sneaky grin.

“val, you want some cake?” wanda has a playful smirk. valerie’s eyes light up and she nods enthusiastically, the fallen out curls moving with her.

you turn to wanda with mock seriousness, “wanda, you’re spoiling her.”

immediately and with an almost flirtatious tone, wanda quips, “only fair if i spoil you too, don’t you think?”

that stumps you. you blush slightly and try to play it off by looking elsewhere, but the teasing smirk on wanda’s face tells you that she noticed the flush.

after dessert, your niece falls asleep on your lap while you converse with wanda.

“she really likes you,” you say to wanda quietly as you look down to the brown haired girl in your lap, “i’m surprised she warmed up to you so quickly.”

a blush forms on wanda’s face, ever so faint that you almost miss it— almost.

“and her aunt? what about her?”

wanda’s low questioning tone brings a heat up to your cheeks that you so desperately wish wanda can’t see. the question catches you off guard, but you force yourself to meet wanda’s gaze, “maybe,” you say with a smirk, but your voice came out much softer thank intended.

there’s something in the way the two of you look at each other— something beyond whatever it is you two thought you had.

the waitress comes back with the check and you reach to your purse for your wallet, but wanda beats you to it and hands the check back to the waitress before you can even protest.

you look at wanda and speak with an exasperated sigh, “why did you pay? i was going to.” you partly feel guilty that wanda paid when it felt that you were the one who dragged her along.

wanda shrugs with nonchalance as she starts cleaning the table, “why not? you deserve a night out and so does the baby.”

wanda’s nonchalance and the way she’s taking charge surprises you, but you’re not hating it. there’s something comforting in the way she’s taking care of the two of you.

you still feel partly guilty and begin to help wanda pick up the table, “is there anything i can do to pay you back? i feel bad that we dragged you out with us, i’m sure you had other plans.”

wanda laughs and waves her hand dismissively, “you didn’t drag me, i chose to come with. and as for paying me back..”

wanda has a look in her eyes that only spells trouble and it makes you nervous, “my company is having a dinner next month. would you like to be my plus one?”

you’re caught off guard but just as you go to respond, the waitress comes back with the receipt.

“your daughter is the cutest thing, you two must be so proud. have a great night!” the waitress picks up the plates and moves on before you can ever correct her.

you look over at wanda and laugh a little bit, “sorry.” you pick up the sleeping girl in your arms and the two of you walk out to your respective cars.

wanda walks you to your car with a light hand behind your back, making sure you carry valerie safely as she checks the road for cars. the streetlights cast a soft glow over the parking lot, wanda’s protective instincts surprising you in the best way.

just as you two stop in front of your car, your niece wakes up and realizes it’s time to go.

“is auntie wanda leaving us now?” her tiny voice laced with tiredness as she reaches for wanda.

wanda is caught off guard with valerie’s words but works quickly to grab the little girl whose tiny hands are grabbing for her, “yeah, honey, i’m taking off. maybe if your auntie is sweet enough, we can go out to eat again.”

wanda takes a peek at you from behind valerie’s head with a playful pout. you nod softly to her silent request to see each other again. you admire the scene in front of you, the way wanda’s rocking the little girl in her arms and gazing at the four year old with pure joy.

wanda works quickly to get valerie in her car seat that is in the backseat of your car before she wakes up again.

she turns to you with a new look in her eyes, something comforting and touching. “she’s the sweetest thing, you know that? a lot like you.”

you giggle and roll your eyes, “whatever you say, wanda.”

you lean on your car and eye wanda as she pulls out her phone from her back pocket, “i meant what i said in there,” she gestures back to the restaurant, “i want you to come to the dinner with me. i promise it won’t be like the last time.”

at the mention of the past event, you groan as you put your phone number into her phone, “stop bringing it up.”

wanda laughs, a sound you are growing to love. “seriously though. i want you there with me.”

the way she says it, the way she looks at you with soft eyes, it all makes you giddy inside.

“i’ll see you,” wanda says as she puts her phone back into her pocket, giving you a warm smile before she turns back to begin walking to her car.

you watch wanda leave to her car from inside your own with a grin. just before you take off, you can hear your little girl from the back, “auntie, your girlfriend is really nice. i like her.”

you roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile. you mentally thank valerie for convincing wanda to come to dinner with you two.

“she’s not my girlfriend, val,” you laugh at your niece’s assumption that you and wanda were dating.

she lets out a soft yawn and holds one of her stuffed animals close to her chest as she sits in your backseat, “but she could be.”

looking in your rear view mirror at your niece, you can’t help but be surprised at her words. how could a four year old possibly know about this stuff? you fight the urge to press your niece further about her knowledge, but decide against it.

arriving home, you carefully pull your niece out of her car seat and take her to your bed to sleep until her parents pick her up later. you press a small kiss to her forehead and let out a soft sigh at the memory of the conversation in the car.

staring at wanda’s contact as you sit on the couch, you can’t help but replay the day’s events over and over. the way she was gentle with valerie, the way she looked at you and took care of the both of you, and the small bashful smile she had when she asked you to be her plus one.

you type and erase several different messages until you decide on a fairly simple one to send to wanda.

thank you for tonight. valerie really likes you

you hit send and place your phone down before you choose to not send anything at all.

not even a whole minute passes before your phone buzzes with a new message.

she’s adorable.. just like her aunt

you bite your lip to keep from smiling like a fool at her text. her reply is short, but you can already hear her voice as if she was saying it out loud. she sends another text before you get the chance to type something out.

seriously, though. thank you for allowing me to tag along. i loved it. i really hope you’ll think about being my plus one next month

you mentally envision yourself with wanda, your stomach doing flips at the thought of you being by her all night. her gentle demeanor and hand guiding you through the night makes you smile foolishly.

i’ll think about it, i promise. goodnight, wanda

you type out the response and hit send quickly before you get the chance to talk yourself out of it.

goodnight, you

maybe your niece was onto something.

[nvtstvrns]

In which: Chris comes home and shows you his new car and new license and wants to take you out on a drive

Contains: smut, unprotected p in v, (please wrap it), car sex, dirty talk.

Authors note: sorry I’ve been so inactive lately! I just got surgery on my mouth so I’ll be able to relax and write for once.

I was laying in Chris’s bed, he was gone this morning when I woke up and when I asked Matt and Nick where he was they both shrugged. I knew Chris couldn’t drive so it was weird that he was just gone. I assumed he took an uber some place.

I lay scrolling on my phone when I get a text from Chris.

after reading his text I walk upstairs where Matt is getting a drink out of the fridge, and Nick was sitting on the couch. I sit next to him and take one of his pieces of candy. “Did Chris tell either of you about his surprise?” I ask them, Matt comes and sits next to me. “I didn’t hear anything about a surprise.” He says after taking a sip of his drink. I fiddle with the ring on my finger. I was nervous about the surprise Chris had for me, I mean when him and Matt would surprise Nick they came up with some crazy things, like having a petting zoo in the house.

Suddenly we hear the front door open and Chris walks up the stairs, I immediately notice the keys in his hand. I get up from the couch meeting him at the top of the stairs. “Hey pretty girl..” he says leaning down to give me a quick kiss on the lips. I smile and look down at the keys in his hand. “Oh yeah! The surprise!” He starts stepping down the stairs two at a time and I glance at Nick and Matt before they get up and follow me.

It was a car. There was a car in the driveway. “Chris what? You don’t have a lic-did you get your-”

“Yep I got my fucking license!” He says. I pull him into a hug. “I’m so happy for you!” I say hugging him as tight as possible. I hear Matt mumble something about it being about time that someone else drives and Nick was shocked, almost too shocked to say a word.

Later that night Chris and I both couldn’t sleep, he was up playing Fortnite and I was up because he was playing Fortnite. I climb out of bed and I sit on his couch watching him play for a little bit. “Chris I can’t sleep.” I say curling up on the couch. “You wanna go for a late night car ride?” He asks turning off the computer. I nod my head and he picks me up carrying me out to his car. He placed me in the passenger seat carefully and kisses me on the forehead.

He was a surprisingly safe driver, definitely not how I expected him to be. “Wanna go to McDonald’s?” He asks pointing at the McDonald’s coming up. I agree and we get into the line and order. We sit there and talk for a while just letting time go by as we eat and I realized that I never wanted the night to end. He drives off to an empty parking lot and pats his lap. “C’mere.” He says smiling. I climb over the center council and sit on his lap. “you know Chris I’m really proud of you for getting your license.” i say toying with his sweatpants string.

He watches me play with his sweatpants string and then looks back up at me smiling. “Thank you pretty girl..” he says running a hand through my hair. “you know, there’s no one here, you wanna…” He asks me his hands running down my sides to rest on my hips. I nod my head.

Things got intense from here, we were taking off our clothes so fast and he was kissing me so deeply it felt like time stopped when I finally sunk down onto him. He groaned into my shoulder as I start slowly grinding on him, small “ah’s” leaving my mouth as I start to move faster. His hands cupped my breasts and he put one of my nipples in his mouth giving the other one just as much attention with his fingers. This made me start bouncing on his cock as he groaned into my chest.

“You’re riding me so good mama..” he says guiding my hips as we move together. “Oh! Chris! I’m close..” I say gripping onto his shoulders for dear life. My movements slow and he notices this as he starts to thrust up into me. A broken cry leaves my lips as I finally cum all over his cock.

He continues thrusting into me slowly finishing himself and then he lets me collapse onto his chest.

“We can do this as many times as we want mama, now that I got my license we can go on late drives and fuck in empty parking lots if that’s what you want.” He says petting my hair as I sit in his lap. I nod my head. “I’d like that…”

[saiintvalentiine]

Hi Saiint! *heres a (virtual) dogfies plushie for you 

Could I get a apologetic Parrotx2… :3 like he finally realizes how mean and ignorant he has been to wifies sometimes and actually says sorry says that he cares about him,.. that dog deserves apology and comfort :(

sorry for holding ur request hostage this dogfies is just so stinkin cute that every time i opened my inbox id see him and get cuteness aggression :(((( sweetest baby ever............ set in the first war video when they talk on the stairs at around 25 mins!

Word count: 508

“I’m really sorry for everything I said,” Wifies says, wringing his hands together. “I want to help you again. I’m sorry for not understanding your point of view.”

The thing about anger is that it’s easy. It’s hot. It expands. It rises. It fills. The anger is there, Parrot could touch it, a weight that breathes like a wounded animal in his chest.

But he’s sick of blood and wounds and burning. He can see the red around Wifies’s nails despite the way he’s moving them. The darkness under his eyes.

It hurts. Parrot is tired of everything hurting. He’s tired of— of hurting everyone around him. For once, he’d like to actually fix something. Not patch it over, not help it escape its fate for only one more day, but fix it. He can fix this, them.

“I’m sorry too,” Parrot says. Wifies’s eyes flutter, uncertain, dodgy.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how you felt either.”

It’s strange to see Wifies so still. He was all quick, small motions just a second ago, but it’s like Parrot’s dropped sand on his head.

“It’s— don’t worry about it. I was being inconsiderate.”

“So was I,” Parrot can’t stop himself from pacing, wings rustling. “The worst thing getting here was turning around expecting you to be there and nothing. It was awful. I kept thinking about how I had begun to rely on you being there with me.”

He drifts closer and closer to Wifies, who watches him with wide eyes. Is this such a surprise? Parrot can’t blame him. He can’t remember the last time they talked like this.

“But it was plenty of time and silence to think. I realize now that you care.”

“I do,” Wifies sounds more stressed than before, voice rising.

“And that what you did, what you said. . . it was because you care, and you were scared.”

“Terrified,” Wifies corrects. He starts to pick at his nail beds. “Parrot, I have so few people I’m close to in this life, and I don’t think I’ll be this lucky in the next. The idea of losing you terrifies me.”

There’s something unnerving about how Wifies says that, as if he’s resigned to loss but holding on anyway. He’s never been that much of a pessimist. Parrot reaches over and pries Wifies’s hands apart, holding them tight.

“You’re not going to lose me,” Parrot rubs his thumbs across the back of Wifies’s hands. They tremble in his grip, fine and shallow but trembling nonetheless. “You were trying to protect me. I’m sorry for not thinking of it that way.”

It’s easy to pull Wifies close and hug him. He curls up into Parrot instantly, breath puffing against Parrot’s throat as he presses close. Parrot’s wings rise around them, a second layer to keep prying eyes away. This is for them.

It doesn’t burn. It aches, but in a good way, the way a yellowed bruise does. Or maybe it doesn’t hurt at all, the way it was always meant to be between them.

[generic-whumperz]

(I’m aware what I have to say is not majority rule, and I understand the need for comfort and support it. But I haven’t ranted on here in a hot minute, so I suppose it’s over due?)

Guess I’m in the smaller minority that absolutely loves and craves a lot of pain and doesn’t need comfort to even the scales (no surprise!). It’s yet to get boring to me or feel too much. But I do sympathize with the concern for pacing, feeling the compulsive need to one-up yourself, and readers’ and writers’ fatigue when it comes to near-constant hurt/torture. As always, context matters as does the very nature of story itself. I’m fine with bleakness and helplessness, it’s oddly cathartic, and that’s comforting to me (yeah ironic that the lack of comfort is a comfort—existentialism who?)

Now for an unpopular stance: forcing “comfort” (whatever that may be) when a character isn’t ready to receive it, feels contrived and corny to me (emphasis on “isn’t ready”—completely subjective, so don’t come at my throat). It can cheapen the character journey and their likely struggles with touch aversion, trust, emotional stability, and the long term effects of captivity and conditioning that comes as a product of the whumping. Healing takes YEARS, DECADES, sometimes even half or a full lifetime. Recovery is MESSY and painful, and includes backsliding while simultaneously unlearning bad thought patterns and finding self worth again. Ouch.

“Comfort” isn’t always, well—comforting. It’s not just blankies, cuddles, and whispers of sweet nothings on a lover’s pillow folks, it’s real hard work that’s grueling as all hell. The aftermath could easily be an extension of the whump—Whump 2.0 if you will.

But hey, if palatable, Band Aid comfort is your thing, have at it by all means. This is a buffet genre, 24/7 at-the-readies, a little something for everyone and you can taste test all you want without paying a dime extra. That is a unique privilege we have here. So, as I am not knocking the whump buffet industrial complex, I hope the same mercy is granted to me as I gorge myself sick over at The Horrors™️.

Having said all this, I’m not any less likely to not read a story because there’s more comfort either, it’s more about vibes first and foremost, and if I give an honest to god shit about the characters and if the interpersonal dynamics speak to me. I’ll read fluff and cutesy shit too (can’t write it though), but usually this has to be a light at the end of the tunnel sort of deal. Take the crawling-on-your-knees and begging-for-a-passive-glance format of a slow burn, now apply it here. Bingo. I just don’t like easy things, I like a fictional struggle and a challenge, and that’s 100% on me and I don’t expect many others to share the same sentiment.

Comfort (in the genre sense) is usually making up for a real lack there of, an unfilled need, an escapist’s desert. And to that I say, the soft serve machine is right this way.

I’ve been thinking about this for a few days and I’d really like to hear people’s thoughts.

Feel free to add your thoughts, I’d really like to hear more about what readers want from their whump. I know I have my own opinions, but I’d love to hear more.

[thebigqueer]

"Was there never another ending?" - Caitvi - One-Shot

Summary: After the battle, Vi & Cait are resting in Cait's room and discussing the aftermath of the war. (inspired by "The Aftermath" by @qvert!) Word Count: 5440 Notes: CWs for sensual content (this lowkey borders being sexual but i wouldn't classify it as smut), mentions of blood & wounds. takes place after s2 act 3! Read on AO3

Vi wants to sleep. She’s been lying on Cait’s carpet for hours now, staring at the darkness behind her eyelids, but it’s been no use; it’s already early afternoon. No matter how exhausted she is, her blood is just humming too much to let herself sleep. 

It doesn’t help that Cait is next to her, hooked up to all those tubes and bags of fluid. Cait’s been released from whatever operations her father wanted to do on her since the battle, and she’s been resting on a makeshift mattress against the window of her bedroom, at her own request. Vi asked her earlier why she didn’t just want to stay on her bed, which would probably be the more comfortable option, but Cait shook her head as Vi helped her onto the mattress. “I just want to wake up to the sun in the morning,” she muttered. She offered that Vi stay on the bed, but they both knew the offer was going to be futile. After all that had happened in the past few hours, the very thought of spending a moment outside of each other’s peripheral felt dangerous. 

“You can lie next to me,” Cait suggested before drifting to sleep. “Why sleep on the floor?” 

Vi wanted to take her up on her offer. But she glanced at the tubes, and even though in any other circumstance she would have given in gladly, she knew that she’d be risking too much by taking up that space on Cait’s mattress. She didn’t want to accidentally rip out the tubes or kick Cait in her sleep. So she shook her head, brought over a pillow from Cait’s bed, and laid herself across the carpet. 

Cait narrowed her eyes at her, but her exhaustion quickly whisked her off to sleep. 

That conversation was during the night. Cait’s woken up a few times since then, each time with a jolt, followed by franting swiveling as she looked around her surroundings. But every time her gaze found Vi’s, she relaxed and let herself ease into her mattress again. At one point, she held her hand out, and Vi reached for it.

She hasn’t let go of it since. It’s the only thing keeping her anxiety at bay, knowing that Cait’s in her reach. 

Now the sun shining through Cait’s windows makes Vi’s eyelids glow in a warm orange, and she frowns in frustration. She wants to sit up and talk to Cait, but she’s not sure whether to shatter their silence just yet. Vi knows she’s not sleeping, though. She’s been playing with Vi’s fingers for the past hour or so, tracing the lines against her hand. 

“Can’t sleep?” whispers Cait, and Vi opens an eye at her voice. The sun splits through the window and arcs around Cait’s head, forming a slight blue halo around her, and Vi’s heart skips a beat at the sight. She’s lying on her stomach, face against the mattress as she looks down at her. If Vi was tired before, Cait’s voice evaporates any sort of exhaustion from her limbs. 

“It’s a little bit hard when someone’s playing with my hand.” Vi smiles up at Cait, then opens the other eye. She runs her thumb over Cait’s, feeling the coarseness of her knuckle under her fingertip. “How could you tell?”

A slight pink blooms in Cait’s cheek, and Vi’s almost surprised at how innocent she looks. “Your eyelids keep twitching. And your breathing is uneven.” Then Cait winces. “I’m sorry. I should let you rest.”  

“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t able to anyway.” Vi pushes herself into a sitting position and scoots closer to the mattress, and Cait shifts herself a little to make room. Vi lays an arm on the mattress and leans her head against it as she looks at Cait. “Can’t sleep either?”

Cait huffs a humorless laugh. “It’s a miracle I was even able to dream.” 

Vi hums in sympathy. She glances at the bandage wrapped over Cait’s eye, blooming with a faint red ring, and brushes her thumb against her forehead gently. “How’s the pain?”

“All right.” Cait attempts a shrug, then winces. “Better than earlier.” 

Vi offers a grudging nod, then brings her gaze to the bandages wrapped around Cait’s torso. Guilt pulses in her chest, and she lays a gentle hand against the gauze, feeling the roughness underneath her fingers. “When was the last time you changed these out?”

“I think I’m actually due for a change.” Cait raises an eyebrow at her. “Mind helping me do the honors?”

Vi gets to her feet gratefully. At least now she has somewhere to put her restless energy. She makes her way to the supply cart that Cait’s father set up at the foot of her bed and wheels it closer to the makeshift mattress. When she returns, she’s surprised to find Cait lying on her back now, her head tilted towards Vi. The sunlight streams in a green hue through the window and spills over Cait’s body, and, despite herself, Vi’s eyes catch on Cait’s bare chest. All she’s wearing is sunlight and the bandage holding her together. 

Cait raises an eyebrow. “You’re staring.” 

Vi can’t help the smile that erupts over her face. She doesn’t even have time to bite it back before Cait sees, so she chooses to embrace it instead. “My bad. Got a little distracted.” 

“I can wear a shirt if you’d like.”

“No!” Vi’s adamance makes them both flinch, and Vi blinks in surprise. “I mean, no, it’s fine.” She meet’s Cait’s eye, and her chest heats at the sight of her gaze, so full and bright and curious. “It’s just… I like that you’re comfortable with me.” 

“But you’ve already seen me half-naked.” A playful smile dances in Cait’s good eye. “I didn’t take you to be the shy type.”

“I know.” Vi shrugs. “But I don’t just mean that. I guess… I don’t know. I’m glad that you trust me to see you like this, like it’s an everyday thing. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world for me to wake up to you half-naked.” Before Cait can respond, Vi holds her hand out. “Let me help you up.” 

Cait grips her hand, and Vi wraps her other arm around Cait’s back to ease her into a sitting position. She hisses with each movement, but they eventually have her propped up, although slightly pale. Vi pats Cait’s knee gently as she catches her breath. When some of her color returns, she looks at Vi with incredulity in her eye. “I don’t know how you even managed to survive that wound to your body,” she croaks out. “This is horrible.” 

Vi smiles slyly. “Now we’re twins. Ready to take the bandage off?”

Cait’s eye closes as she takes a deep breath. “Yes.” 

Vi picks at the end of the tape and pulls as gently as possible. Once it unsticks from the rest of the material, she begins unraveling it from Cait’s body. It’s a tauntingly slow procedure, one that consists of a lot of cursing and lip-biting and eye-scrunching on Cait’s part, and Vi feels guilty every time Cait flinches. But eventually the gauze comes off, and Cait’s wound stares back at Vi, gaping red and festering. 

Now it’s Vi’s turn to flinch. “Yikes.” 

Cait’s face is scrunched in pain. “Don’t say that.” 

“Sorry. I mean, wow, your wound is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”

Despite her pale color, a sparkle of amusement twinkles in Cait’s eye. “Shut up.” 

Vi throws a grin at her, then tosses the old bandage on the ground. She grabs a washcloth and a bowl of water from the cart, submerges the cloth in the water for a moment, then wrings it out and holds it in front of Cait. “This is probably going to sting a little more.” 

Cait sighs heavily. She stretches her arms behind her to hold herself against the pain. Her head tilts back as a frown paints itself on her features, and in the sunlight, her neck flashes. 

Vi forces her gaze to stay on the wound, if only to distract herself from how beautiful Cait looks right now. She gently dabs, and it takes a while for her to clean out some of the dried blood. Cait’s body scrunches against the sting, and each twitch of pain makes Vi twitch in sympathy, but she keeps going until the dried blood is cleaned away. 

It feels like an eternity before she’s done cleaning it out, but eventually she throws the cloth - now painted in a faded red - to the ground. She reaches for a roll of gauze from the cart, then sits back down to face Cait, who looks even more worn out now. 

“Last part,” Vi says, then gently brushes her hand against Cait’s knee. “Do you want to eat anything? I think your dad left some food.”

“I don’t even know if I have it in me to eat today.”

“I don’t blame you. Ready?” 

“No.” But Cait clutches her mattress again, and a new determination comes over her. 

Vi meets Cait’s eye, tilting her head to make sure she’s really ready, and Cait offers a slight nod. Vi starts by leaning forward and reaching her arms behind Cait’s back. She moves slowly, trying to be as gentle as possible as she wraps the gauze around and around. Cait only flinches a few times, which Vi considers as progress. She can feel Cait shivering against her every time she pulls in close, and despite the circumstance, a heat flickers in the pit of her stomach at the feel of her skin, warm and humming in her arms.

Finally, the gauze is thoroughly wrapped around Cait’s waist, and Vi uses the scissors on the cart to cut through it. As soon as Vi sticks it together, Cait releases a shuddering breath.

Vi’s about to ask if she wants to lie down again, but Cait beats her to it as she slowly crawls herself back onto the mattress. As soon as she hits the bed, a sigh of relief escapes her, and she presses the back of her hand to her forehead. A gentle silence falls over them as Cait steels herself against the releasing pain.

Vi watches her breathe for a moment. The sunlight soaks her body again, and even though she’s still a little pale, everything about Cait seems so vibrant in the light. Vi’s gaze travels up to the bandage over her eye, and she reaches out to brush Cait’s forehead again. When Cait opens her good eye in response, Vi gestures to the bandage with her chin. “How do you really feel?” she murmurs.

Cait shrugs. “It’s going to be difficult to get used to having one eye. And I’m sure I have some sort of concussion. But all that matters to me right now is that I’m alive, and that Ambessa didn’t get my good eye.” 

Vi nods. Then she nips at her thumb to hide the twitch in her lips. “I know this is the least of your worries,” she muses, “but I think the one-eye look is gonna look so hot on you.” 

Cait fixes Vi with a raised, playful eyebrow. “I’m glad you have your priorities straight.” 

“Of course I do.” Vi meets Cait’s eye again, and they both giggle. But the laughter slowly dissipates into quiet again, and soon the only sound in the room is of their breathing. 

In this new silence, Vi’s eyes trace Cait’s body. She starts at her face, radiant in the sunlight, then rolls over her neck, over her bare chest, down her abdomen. It’s kind of amazing the way Cait almost commands the light to fall on her. Her gaze catches on every scratch and gash and bruise on her body, and, impulsively, she reaches out and brushes her fingers over each blemish. Even bloodied and battered, she somehow has a way of stealing the beauty from the room.

She has the look of a warrior.

Vi drags her fingers down her bandages. The gauze is rough under her fingers, and she zigzags gently down the surface, until her touch lingers over the same place where Cait’s wound is. Then she retraces her steps, runs her fingers back onto the bare skin over Cait’s abdomen. Vi can feel the shiver in her skin as she breathes, and she swears her own fingers are glowing. She flicks her eyes up at Cait again, and when their gazes connect, Cait releases a breath and closes her eye, accepting Vi’s touch. 

So Vi keeps going. Her fingers follow the trail of Cait’s muscles to her sternum, and the motion gently tugs Vi forward, too. Cait’s ribs rumble underneath her fingers, like sharp hills on her body. She risks another glance at Cait, whose blue eye pierces her once again, but now there’s an ease in it, as if she’s floating. 

Vi brushes her fingers over Cait’s heart, and Cait’s breathing shallows the barest inch. Vi takes this as her permission to lay her lips on her sternum, and the scent of violets overwhelms her. She closes her eyes, trying to permanently memorize Cait solely through her fingertips. Her lips drag down Cait’s body, leaving kisses against every bare inch of skin that she can, but she stops just above her bandages. She looks up again to meet Cait’s eye, to make sure she’s not hurting her. Cait only looks curious, like she’s eager to see where Vi goes with this. 

Vi flattens her fingertips a little more against Cait’s chest, so that the curve of her breast just barely fills Vi’s palm, and she traces her kisses up Cait’s sternum again. Then she shifts herself closer to Cait’s body, cupping her other hand against her waist to hold her better, and leaves kisses against the rising part of Cait’s breast, up into the dips of her collarbone, into the crook of her neck. Cait sighs and tilts her head, inviting Vi in. Vi takes her hand on Cait’s waist to the other side of her face, brushes her thumb against her cheekbone, savors the heat of Cait’s flush between her fingertips. She’s so close that she can feel Cait’s chest rising into her own each time she breathes, and the feeling sets her heart on fire. 

Vi pushes her fingers under Cait’s chin and forces her head to tilt just a little bit more, then lets her bottom lip trail against Cait’s jaw, runs every bruise and knick under her lip, tastes her skin humming, until she reaches her final destination: Cait’s lips. Cait parts her lips a little wider, and as Vi finds her way in, Cait traces one hand over Vi’s back, up her neck, into her hair. Her fingers cradle Vi’s head so gently, and a tingling warmth erupts at the pit of her core, like a match just ignited. Her touch is a wildfire against Vi’s skin, and Vi swears her heart’s about to break out of her chest.

Vi tries to sigh, but it barely gets anything through because each time Cait scrunches her hand, another wave of desire steals Vi’s breath away. The hand on Cait’s face glides down her body again, this time with more purpose as Vi presses her palm against the side of Cait’s breast.

Cait’s neck arches at the touch. 

Then Vi pulls away, and Cait blinks up at her, a daze buzzing in her eye. 

Vi looks at Cait from here, watches her brow furrow in irritation. She tugs Cait’s bottom lip with her thumb, and another pinch of desire makes her want to dive right back in, but there’s a weight beginning to settle in her chest that pulls her back. Something about being this intimate right now, after everything that’s happened, feels… wrong.

She looks up and glances at the tubes still connected to Cait. She looks at her feet and spots the old bandages on the ground. She doesn’t look out the window, but she can hear some shouting every now and then as the world tries to rebuild itself outside. 

Then she looks down at Cait again, and just as she expected, the world drowns itself out of her peripheral. She just wants to stare at Cait like this for a bit, memorialize the view of her in the light. Before the sun disappears.

And suddenly Vi realizes why she feels so off. All that destruction outside, and here they are, keeping themselves in this little bubble. 

“Careful,” Vi says finally, and the way Cait’s brows dig deeper into her frown makes her smirk. “Can’t have your wound opening up again. We need you up and running, Commander.” 

Cait releases a huff. “Don’t call me that,” she mutters, but there’s barely any fire in her words. Her hand in Vi’s hair glides down, down her neck and down her shoulder and down her arm. Her fingers whisper over Vi’s bicep, and Vi watches her gaze run over her arm, one finger carving over the lines of her muscles, then tracing her tattoos. Even though it was Vi doing most of the kissing, something about her touch feels more intimate than anything they’ve ever done together, like she's trailing promises against Vi’s skin. She closes her eyes and lives in the touch. 

“How are you feeling?” Cait murmurs now. Her voice is soft, like sweet clouds against Vi’s ears, and behind her closed lids, Vi can almost pretend she’s floating. 

“Probably better than you.” Vi opens her eyes and runs her hand against Cait’s bandages gently. But there’s a subtle weight in her words, and Vi knows that wounds are not what she’s talking about. 

As if reading her mind, Cait drops her fingers from Vi’s arm to her hand, holding on a little too tight, and Vi’s throat aches all of a sudden. “Seriously, Vi,” she insists, running a thumb against her knuckles. A beat of silence passes, and then she whispers, “I want to know what happened.”

Vi looks down to watch her touch, and with every motion she makes, Vi’s chest grows heavier. 

After a moment of hesitation, a long sigh drags out of Vi, like a snake that’s been coiled up in her chest. A new exhaustion falls over her, and she drags herself onto the ground again, knees pressing into the soft carpet underneath her. She crosses her arms against the mattress and drops her head into them. In response, Cait turns to her side, folding her arm underneath her head as she watches Vi, her good eye filling with overwhelming concern. 

“She’s gone,” breathes Vi. “Her and my father.”

She surprises herself by the casualness of her tone, like this is an everyday occurrence. And maybe it is. After all, hasn’t she been practicing this line for months? She’s been practicing it ever since she first met Jinx, when everyone was trying to convince her Powder had died. 

But it’s only now that it’s become true. 

If Cait’s surprised by the news, Vi can hardly tell; the only difference is in the way her eyebrows cower together in the middle. “I heard,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry, Vi.”

Vi looks at her through her lashes, then points her gaze down to the foot of the bed, to the blanket cowering at Cait’s feet. She shrugs. “I guess it’s probably good news for you, though.” 

She almost regrets the words as soon as they come out, because she knows it isn’t fair to Cait, not now. But she can’t help it; it’s a thought that’s haunted her ever since the night of the attack.

Jinx’s missile had been bad enough; the attack at the memorial was Cait’s breaking point. She had narrowed her gaze on Jinx so easily, like suddenly the rest of the world didn’t exist. And Vi understood - sympathized, even - but watching Cait’s every working thought narrow in on Jinx like she was just another one of her sniper targets made Vi’s skin prickle. Jinx became a shot she refused to miss, and even though Vi told Caitlyn - told herself - that Powder was gone, the thought of watching her sister die at Cait’s hands made her stomach turn with every step closer to Jinx. 

What made her even sicker was the fact that she’d followed so blindly. 

Cait releases a deep sigh, but she stays quiet for a moment. And Vi’s grateful for that; right now, all she really wants is silence. Maybe it’s not fair to Cait, but maybe she wants her to sit in the implications of her words anyway. 

Maybe she wants them both to sit in the weight of their mistakes. 

“I don’t think it’s good news.” The gentleness in Cait’s voice surprises Vi, though she doesn’t really know why. Vi turns her gaze back at Cait, only to find that Cait’s own focus has shifted to the foot of her mattress as well. “I know Jinx and I have never seen eye-to-eye, but… things are clearer to me now.” Cait closes her eye, and Vi wants to reach out to touch the crinkle that appears between her brows. She doesn’t, though. “I don’t think she was ever the villain. I think I made her out to be one because… because I wanted someone to blame. I think she was… a product of failed dreams. A victim of her environment.” Then Cait meets Vi’s gaze. Her eye shines with so much sincerity, so much fear, that it makes Vi want to eat her own words. “An environment that I regret ever playing a part in.”

Vi begins to draw circles against the mattress sheets. She’s quiet for a moment, and the silence feels heavy on her shoulders, like a weight pressing over both her and Cait. The weight of responsibility, of truth. 

“I guess it just feels a little stupid.” Vi shrugs. “It felt like every move I made with either of you, I was making the wrong one. Like any time I tried to protect one, the other would always be pointing a gun at me. There was just no winning. But now Jinx is gone, and the game’s over, and I failed to protect her or save her, and it’s just… What was all my fighting for? If she was just going to drop out like that, what did I fight for all that time?”

Vi closes her eyes, and when she does, all she sees is the glow of the Hexgates beneath her, almost beautiful, blue as Jinx’s hair. Powder’s hair. And she sees the light in Jinx’s eyes, almost violet, as she looked up at her, an eerie peace solidifying in her irises.

Always with you, sis. That smile, soft and subtle and beautiful. Her Powder, in a different body. Her Jinx, in a new form. 

And then she fell, the distance between them growing stronger with every passing second. 

“I don’t think you failed, Vi,” Cait says, and her voice an anchor on Vi’s thoughts; she finds her gaze swimming back to the present. “I wasn’t there when she died, but if there’s anything I’ve seen from the few times I’ve seen you together…” Cait blinks a few times, as if trying to clear her vision. “You have such a deep bond. Even after all that time, even after everything you’ve done to each other and have been through, you loved each other. I saw it in the way you protected her in that explosion at the camp. I saw it in the way Jinx gave herself up without any hesitation - she thought it was going to save you.” Cait’s eyes harden in thought, as if trying to piece together a puzzle, and the sight of her frown makes Vi almost want to laugh. If there’s anything Cait loves doing, it’s finding answers. “I don’t think her decision to fall was you failing to protect her. Maybe it was her trying to repay the favor. Maybe she was protecting you.” 

Vi considers this, frowning. “Well, she did a pretty shit job. Nothing’s going to protect me from the guilt of knowing she sacrificed herself for me, all because I was stupid enough to think Vander was still in there.” Vi’s eyes prick with tears, and against her will, her chin begins to tremble. “That’s just my problem. I don’t expect people to change.” Vi lets out a shaking breath, trying to ease herself out of a sob. “But they do. They always do.” 

Then she meets Cait’s gaze, and Cait’s eyebrows rise in both concern and regret, and Vi is suddenly hit with a wave of dread. Her thoughts flicker back to that moment in the sewers months ago, the two of them leaning against the wall, warm in the chill of their surroundings. How sincere Cait looked. How hopeful Vi had been. 

And she knows Cait’s thinking exactly what she’s thinking. 

The air around them hangs heavy and dense, and Vi’s shoulders burn under the weight of the moment. She knows what she’s implying, and she knows she has Cait backed into a corner. Suddenly the world around her feels darker, smaller. Like she’s back in her prison cell. 

“I don’t think change is something you can stop,” Cait says, and the way her voice wavers, Vi knows she’s trying to tread cautiously. The distance between them, though minimal, feels too deep and treacherous. “You’re talking about change as if it’s your fault people change. But it’s not, Vi. People change for a lot of reasons. For love. For a greater cause. For grief.” Cait’s eye closes and takes a deep breath, and Vi knows she’s thinking of her mother. “I don’t think it’s stupid for you to hold onto hope for people. If anything, I think it shows how big your heart is. You look for the good in everyone, especially those you care about. That’s a strength a lot of people don’t have.” Cait frowns. “It’s a strength I didn’t have, and look where it landed us. A war on our front step.” 

Vi narrows her eyes and points her gaze at a loose thread of the sheet. She picks at it. “Was it strength when I thought Vander was still in that… that body? If I had just moved like Jinx told me to, she wouldn’t be gone now.” 

Cait’s gaze moves past Vi, to a spot above Vi’s head, as if looking for the answer behind her. She’s quiet for a few moments, and with each passing second, Vi’s heart feels heavier in her chest.

“Jinx made her choice,” Cait says finally, bringing her gaze back to Vi’s. “I know this is so much easier said than done, but you can’t blame yourself for what she chose to do.” 

“Was it really a choice, though?” Vi’s brows furrow, and she can feel the tears burn against her throat again. “I didn’t really give her much of one. I was the one just standing there. If she hadn’t shoved Vander away, it would’ve been me falling instead.” Vi blinks, and for a fleeting moment, she imagines it: her in Jinx’s place, falling right down with Vander. Her being the one to hold onto him. Sure, she would’ve died - but Jinx would’ve been saved. And now a tear slips out. “It should’ve been me.” 

“At what cost?” Cait asks, and the adamancy in her voice makes Vi flinch. It must surprise Cait, too, because she blinks as if the voice wasn’t even hers. Then her eyes soften, and she reaches out and threads her fingers through her hair. The touch brings some semblance of calm over Vi, and she closes her eyes. “You can pretend that sacrificing yourself would have made things better, but they wouldn’t have, Vi. If it was you who fell, I don’t think Jinx would have been able to handle it.” Cait’s brows furrow. “Ekko told me she was about to commit suicide before he convinced her to come. If you had been the one to go, I think that would have just sent her over the edge. I have no doubt she would have jumped right after you and Vander.” Cait tilts Vi’s chin closer gently, urging her to look at her. “Think about it like this. If you had been the one to fall, who, exactly, would you have been saving?”

Vi narrows her gaze at a spot on the mattress as she considers it. She knows there’s some truth to Cait’s words - Jinx might have followed her down. And, for a brief second, an eerie calmness falls over Vi at the thought. At least then we would have been a family again, she thinks selfishly. 

Maybe Cait has a point - maybe there was never going to be a good ending. Someone was going to die at that moment. But still - the regret has been burning a hole through Vi for hours now. 

Was there never another ending? Another future?

For some reason, the question makes Vi’s chest burn with rage. Cait’s asking too much, suggesting too much. Her fist slams into the ground, so hard it shakes the floor around them, and her face falls into the mattress. Her knuckles pulse with pain, and that pain bounces all the way back into her heart and transforms into a sudden wave of desperation, and a sob explodes out of her, so painful she’s convinced her chest has cracked open in half. The fabric around her becomes wet as her tears come pouring down. 

“It’s so unfair,” she seethes, her words muffled by the mattress. Her voice catches in her throat, and another sob cracks her chest like lightning. “All that waiting… all those years wasted in a prison, telling myself that I’ll find her or die trying. And the moment I do… She just fucking leaves.” Her sobs fall easier now, as if some coil in her chest has been released. “It’s not fair.” 

Cait doesn’t say anything, and Vi’s grateful for it. The silence gives her the space for her grief, and she takes every inch of it that she can. In the vicinity of all the high walls and empty space of Cait’s bedroom, Vi’s ears echo with every sob that racks her body, and each echo sends another wave of devastation through her heart. It turns into a vicious cycle of grieving and listening, grieving and listening. 

Then Cait’s hand touches her own, and Vi tilts her head to look at her. Her heart cracks even further at the glistening in Cait’s own eye and the sucking of her bottom lip, as if she’s trying not to break for Vi’s sake. Cait’s thumb rubs over Vi’s bruised knuckles, and even though she feels hollow and exhausted right now, the motion still brings a sense of comfort through her. 

Cait leans forward and kisses Vi’s head, slowly, softly. And when she pulls back, she brushes her thumb over Vi’s cheek.

Even though she doesn’t say anything, her touch feels like an apology. A promise. 

And Vi’s tears come hotter than ever.

Vi’s not sure how long she’s sitting there, ruining Cait’s sheets with her tears, but eventually she opens her eyes again. Except they feel weird - swollen and stiff, like stinging weights on her eyes. Her face feels hot, her nose too heavy. And, as she blinks up, she’s surprised to find only darkness above her. 

With a start, she realizes she’s lying on the ground again. A blanket puddles around her. 

She feels a weight on her waist, and she looks over her shoulder to find Cait on the carpet with her, fast asleep, the tubes and vials removed from her body and a sweater over her. Her chest rises and falls against Vi’s back with each breath she takes. 

Vi’s eyes burn again at the sight of Cait, down on the floor with her, curled up against her, but this time the tears feel lighter. Not happy, but not sad either. Just relieving, like shme’s shrugging off a heavy weight. She tries to keep quiet, but her attempt at holding back her tears makes her start shivering, and Cait’s eye opens. She frowns in confusion, bleary with sleep. But when she searches Vi’s face through the darkness, the furrow in her brows releases, and she moves her hand on Vi’s waist to touch her cheek, her fingers soaking in her tears. She pulls Vi’s head gently towards her, presses her forehead to hers. 

Vi breathes out a sigh. And she lets her eyes flutter close again.

[gyorouis]

── ✦ true love.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⋆ synopsis⸝⸝ on the second day of christmas, said you felt like something's missing.

꒰ genre⸝⸝ crack-fluff type of shit, nothing too much going on pairing⸝⸝ socialite!yj x afab!reader wc⸝⸝ 950 warning⸝⸝ uh,, flirting? romantic tension shit, slight jealousy tune in⸝⸝ ariana grande — true love ୨ৎ ꒱

yeonjun always knew how to make an entrance.

at the annual holiday gala hosted by his parents, he strolled in wearing a velvet blazer, flashing his signature smirk to anyone who dared look his way. the room was a blur of champagne flutes and twinkling lights, but yeonjun basked in the attention as if the whole event had been thrown just for him.

“jun, stop hogging the spotlight,” his friend beomgyu muttered, nudging him.

“what can i say? it’s a gift,” yeonjun replied, grinning.

he scanned the crowd, his eyes landing on you standing near the dessert table. unlike everyone else, you weren’t dressed to impress anyone but yourself. your outfit was effortlessly elegant, and you had a look of mild disinterest as you picked at a macaron. it was that nonchalant confidence that caught his attention.

“who’s that?” yeonjun asked, intrigued.

“that’s y/n,” beomgyu said. “don’t bother. they’re not into your type.”

“my type?” yeonjun raised an eyebrow.

“you know,” beomgyu said, gesturing vaguely. “flashy, overconfident, loves to hear himself talk.”

“ouch,” yeonjun said, pretending to be wounded. “guess i’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

with a casual stroll, yeonjun approached the dessert table where you stood. he reached for a macaron, but his attention never left you.

“you look like you’re plotting something,” you said when yeonjun appeared beside you.

“me? never,” he said, all charm. “i was just admiring your choice in macarons. bold move going for the pistachio.”

“you’re either flirting or trying to distract me,” you replied, unimpressed.

“can’t it be both?”

you rolled your eyes but didn’t walk away, which yeonjun took as a small victory.

“so,” he said, leaning casually against the table, “what brings you here? besides the world-class dessert spread, of course.”

“i’m friends with the hosts,” you said, not offering more.

“ah, so you’re in the inner circle,” he teased. “guess that makes us equals.”

“hardly,” you said, a smirk tugging at your lips.

for the next few days, yeonjun couldn’t get you out of his head. he wasn’t used to people brushing him off so easily, and it only made him more determined.

“you’re thinking about macaron girl, aren’t you?” beomgyu asked one evening, catching yeonjun staring into space.

“no,” yeonjun lied.

“just admit it,” beomgyu said. “you’re smitten.”

“i don’t get smitten,” yeonjun said, but the blush creeping up his neck said otherwise.

but his actions says otherwise, let's say.

his first move was inviting you to an ice-skating rink. it was a bold choice, considering he hadn’t skated in years, but he figured it was worth the risk.

“i didn’t peg you for the skating type,” you said when you arrived, eyeing him skeptically.

“i’m full of surprises,” he said, lacing up his skates.

it turned out yeonjun was terrible at skating, which you found endlessly amusing.

“aren’t you supposed to be good at everything?” you teased as he wobbled next to you.

“i’m letting you shine,��� he replied, just before nearly toppling over.

you laughed, steadying him. “you’re ridiculous.”

“and yet, you’re still here,” he said, flashing you a grin.

next came tree decorating. yeonjun insisted it was a crucial holiday activity, and you reluctantly agreed.

“this is serious business,” you said as you handed him a strand of lights.

“serious? it’s a christmas tree, not a board meeting,” he joked.

“and yet, you’ve tangled the lights twice already,” you shot back.

“maybe i just like seeing you roll your eyes,” he said, earning another eyeroll.

despite his teasing, yeonjun took the decorating seriously—or at least as seriously as he could. by the end of the evening, the tree sparkled, and you had to admit it looked pretty good.

“not bad,” you said, stepping back to admire your work.

“not bad? it’s a masterpiece,” he said, standing beside you.

“don’t push your luck,” you said, but you were smiling.

as the days went by, yeonjun continued to surprise you. there was hot cocoa at a cozy café, where he insisted on trying every flavor, and a snowball fight that ended with him dramatically falling into a snowbank.

“you’re such a show-off,” you said, laughing as he sprawled out in the snow.

“it’s all part of the charm,” he said, brushing snow off his coat.

then there was a quiet evening watching a holiday movie. yeonjun’s commentary was equal parts amusing and annoying.

“that’s not how snowball physics work,” he said during a particularly cheesy scene.

“it’s a movie, not a documentary,” you replied, throwing a popcorn kernel at him.

he caught it mid-air, grinning. “impressive aim.”

“i’ve had practice,” you said, smirking.

on the twelfth day, yeonjun invited you to a rooftop overlooking the city. the sight took your breath away: a blanket spread out, a thermos of hot chocolate, and a string of lights he’d somehow managed to hang despite the freezing weather.

“what’s all this?” you asked, taking it all in.

“just thought we could end this right,” he said, sitting down and patting the spot next to him.

as you sat beside him, sipping hot chocolate and watching the city lights twinkle, you realized how much he’d grown on you.

“you’re not just full of surprises,” you said softly. “you’re... different.”

“different good or different bad?” he asked, looking at you.

“good,” you said, meeting his gaze.

he smiled, and for once, it wasn’t the confident smirk he usually wore. it was softer, more genuine.

“you’re different too,” he said.

“good different?”

“the best kind,” he said, leaning closer.

and as the first snowflakes of the night began to fall, you found yourself believing in the magic of true love after all.

gyo's note: finally posting after what feels like forever lol! hope you guys are having an awesome holiday season (and yes, i’m gonna keep saying this until the 25th haha). what are your plans for the holidays? 🎄 as for me, i’ll probably be catching up on writing… and definitely catching up on sleep too hehe. oh, and i’ve got this little holiday mini-series lined up for you guys as a gift! hope you’ll love it. thanks a ton for being so patient with me—appreciate you all more than you know! if you made it this far, thank you! (,,>﹏<,,) you will be loved, xoxo!

✮ 2024 gyozies, all rights reserved.

[smilingformoney]

Rickmas Day 22: Shivering Certainty

Character: Elliott Marston (Quigley Down Under), Judge Turpin (Sweeney Todd) Relationship(s): Turpin/Mary (OC), Elliott/Mary (OC) Warnings: implied smut

Based on The Eternal Summer

AN: Inspired by Truly Madly Deeply, because I watched it and knew immediately who else would grieve a moustachioed Alan so hard that his ghost popped up :D Part 2 tomorrow!

Read on Ao3 or below:

At first, Mary thought she must have been going mad.

But it was real. He was real.

She reached out hesitantly to place a hand on his chest, and sure enough, he was as warm and solid as she’d ever known him.

“Elliott…” Mary gasped, looking up at him with eyes wide in wonder. “I don’t understand… how…?”

“I don’t know either, darling,” he replied, and Mary thought she might cry to hear his voice again, the voice she thought had been silenced forever. “All I know is I was in your arms, and then… I was here.”

“Oh, Elliott!” Mary sobbed, throwing herself into his arms. “How I’ve missed you!”

Elliott wrapped his arms around her tightly, and for the first time in a very long time she felt safe again.

“Shh, it’s alright, Mary… I’m here now…”

She sobbed profusely into his chest, neither of them caring that his shirt would no doubt be soaked by her tears. Elliott stroked her hair soothingly, even rocking her slightly, and he managed to coax her to sit down on the edge of the bed as he comforted her.

“How long has it been?” Elliott asked once he thought she seemed to have calmed enough to talk.

“F - five months,” Mary replied, sniffling as she raised her head to look at him. “The worst five months of my life.”

“Now, I know that’s not true.”

“It is! I couldn’t begin to describe… losing you was… oh, it killed me, Elliott. I might as well have died with you that day.”

“Don’t say that,” said Elliott sternly, cupping her face with his large hand. “Don’t you even think that, you hear me? I need you to live a long and healthy life for me.”

She nodded emphatically.

“I will, El. I almost… I did almost join you, but…”

“What?! What are you talking about? Did someone try to hurt you? I swear, if it was William —”

“No! No, he’s - he’s been so good to me ever since… since I tried… stupid, really… a bottle of arsenic, or so I thought… the apothecary must have watered it down…”

“Are you mad, Mary? What good would that have done anyone?”

“I know, El, I know! I’m so glad it didn’t work, because… well…” She sniffed, but she was smiling through her tears. “Gosh, how many times have I wished I could tell you…”

“Tell me what, darling?”

Mary wiped the tears from her face and took Elliott’s hands in hers.

“Elliott, I’m… I’m pregnant.”

His eyebrows shot up, and the look of surprise on his face was priceless. Mary giggled.

“I’m certain he’s yours. I can just feel it. I’ll never tell William that, of course, I daren’t think what he might do if he believed he wasn’t his, but… he agreed that we can call him Elliott for you.”

“…Mine?” Elliott repeated. “Do you really believe so?”

“Yes, yes, I do, he’s yours, El, I just know it!”

Elliott sunk to one knee on the floor and placed a gentle hand over her belly, as if worried touching it might harm the tiny life growing inside her.

“Do you know how much I fantasised about this?” he said softly, looking up at her reverently. “Marrying you and filling you with my child… oh, Mary, if only I could give you more, we’d have a litter of children…”

He leant forward and placed a soft kiss to her belly.

“I suppose he’ll be Elliott Turpin,” he said with amusement. “Not a name I ever thought I’d come across.”

“Oh, but El, what - what happens now? I mean… do you - will you stay?”

“I don’t know,” Elliott said as he sat back on the mattress with her. “I’d like to. But there are limitations. Don’t ask me how I know them, but I do.”

“Such as?”

“Nobody else can see or hear me, I don’t think. And I can’t leave this house. I don’t know whether it’s because of you or something else, but I can’t follow you outside.”

“But you… you’re solid, I mean… I’ve heard stories of apparitions, but never a ghost that you could touch.”

She placed her hand on his cheek and smiled. He was warm, his facial hair prickled against her skin… he was as real as if he were alive.

“Do you breathe? Eat, sleep? I can touch you, but…” Her eyes flickered down to his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Elliott smirked. “Perhaps you should test it.”

Tentatively, Mary leant up and pressed her lips to his.

Yes, she could kiss him! She could kiss him, she could hold him… and he could kiss her back. His moustache rubbed against her skin just as she remembered, and when her lips parted for him, his wet tongue could explore her mouth just as he’d done before.

Elliott wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close, being careful not to place any pressure on her belly between their bodies.

“It seems you can most definitely kiss me,” Elliott murmured with a satisfied smirk. “And it seems I can kiss you too.”

Mary shivered slightly as a cold breeze came in through the window, and Elliott immediately took his jacket off to wrap around her shoulders.

“How are you enjoying the Australian winter?” he asked with amusement. “Is it odd to be cold in August?”

“A little, but English summers aren’t always hot, so it’s not that much of a change really.”

“Perhaps you should get under the covers.”

Mary looked up at him coyly. “Are you trying to get me into bed, Mr Marston?”

“Oh, I don’t need trickery to get you into bed,” Elliott said with a mischievous grin. “That belly of yours is proof enough of that.”

He leaned in to kiss her again, and carefully guided her onto her back so he could kiss her on the bed.

“What would your husband say if he could see this, hm?” Elliott purred as he kissed her neck, his body weight shifted to one side to avoid her belly. “Oh, hello, darling, welcome home. By the way, I snogged your dead cousin in our bed today, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Stop it!” Mary giggled. “If he knew anything of this, he’d have me sent off to the asylum instantly. Gosh, how am I supposed to sleep at night knowing you’re there?”

“You have a spare room, don’t you? Tell him you want to sleep alone because of the baby, then sneak into bed with me. How scandalous would that be, hm?”

Elliott took the skin of her neck between his teeth and teased her with a soft nibble.

“El! Be careful, you can’t leave a mark!”

“Can’t I? He’s left enough of his own. Who’s to say the mark’s not from him?”

Even so, Elliott didn’t try nibbling her again, opting instead to leave gentle, loving kisses over the top of the bruises she had from Turpin.

He moved down her body, his kisses travelling across her collarbone and then down her clavicle, until he reached her swollen breasts.

“Mmm, look how full they are… all ready to feed my son…”

He cupped her breasts in his hands, his thumbs ghosting over her nipples through the fabric of her dress, and Mary squirmed slightly with sensitivity.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” Elliott said softly. He placed a delicate kiss to each nipple, then said, “Are you leaking yet?”

“Not yet. But they’re sensitive.”

“And getting bigger, too, that’s for sure… fuck, Mary, you really were made for this. Pregnancy suits you.”

“I wonder, El… if you seem to be able to do everything you could as if you were alive… can you…?”

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her patiently.

“Can I what?”

“You know,” Mary said with a blush.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He was lying, and they both knew it, but he wanted to hear her say it. If they’d had more time - oh, the things he would have done for her - but the first thing he’d have taught her would be to ask for what she wants. She was too kind for her own good sometimes, too selfless, never doing anything for herself. But he wanted to give her the world, and she needed to ask for it.

Elliott shifted himself up the bed so he was face-to-face with her again, and planted a gentle kiss to her lips.

“Tell me what you want, Mary.”

“Make love to me,” she breathed, melting under his touch as one hand explored her body, tracing a route down her hip towards her thigh.

Elliott smiled.

“Anything you wish.”

Turpin arrived home late that evening, as he’d been playing cards with some of the other judges in Perth. He was a little drunk, but not debilitatingly so. The house was dark and quiet, so he surmised Mary must be asleep in bed.

She must have been very tired indeed when she went to bed, because she’d left the curtains drawn, but at least it gave Turpin some moonlight with which to admire his sleeping wife’s form.

He spotted something strange about her nightgown, so he pulled down the covers to reveal… she was wearing a man’s jacket, he realised with a frown.

He didn’t recognise it - it certainly wasn’t his! The worst case scenario immediately springing to mind, Turpin took her by the shoulders and lifted her to a sitting position so he could remove the jacket from her and, hopefully, find out who it might belong to.

The movement caused Mary to wake up, and she blinked her eyes open, looking around sleepily in the semi-darkness.

“Whose is this?” Turpin demanded, holding the jacket up to her. “This jacket is certainly not mine, so whose is it?”

“Elliott,” Mary mumbled. She looked around, blinking, as if she thought he might be around.

Turpin sighed. Elliott. Of course it was bloody Elliott’s. The man was five months dead, and still he lingered like a ghost haunting his wife’s heart.

“Go back to sleep, Mary,” Turpin said. “I’ll put this away.”

Mary wanted to protest, but what could she say?

Instead, she closed her eyes as she laid back down on the pillow, tugging the duvet back over her to stop herself from shivering.

A few minutes later, the mattress sagged as Turpin joined her, wrapping an arm around her to hold her close to him.

“I’m here now,” he said, his tone hard to interpret, somehow both a comfort and a firm reminder.

Yes, he was here - and Elliott wasn’t. Mary remembered falling asleep in his arms, having determined that he most definitely could still make love to her as a ghost.

That had happened, hadn’t it? She hadn’t gone so mad with grief that she’d imagined her dead lover returning to her?

No, it must have happened… how else would his jacket have ended up around her shoulders?

She shivered in the cold night, and her husband held her closer, doing his best to give her what warmth he could from his body.

Elliott had been warm too… he must have been real. He must have.

But where was he now?

[hrizantemy]

me when i hear people defend feyre attacking the lady of autumn by saying she didn’t mean to/beron was her intended target: … how … how is that better?

like okay we all hate beron but he’s still a high lord, still someone you invited to form an alliance/negotiate with diplomatically. in a court where you are a guest might i add. you are a child they all saw practically naked two days ago, now playing house with a man (sorry, male) who willingly or otherwise tormented them for the better part of half a century .. because he gave you a pretty crown? how does one expect these old ass fae to not be condescending or reluctant? i’d have asked her to let the adults do the talking if she was piping in every two seconds telling me what to think and how to act.

the high lords’ meeting is my roman empire because it’s one of those instances where you have to let your jaw hit the floor because in what world - except one where sjm expects everyone to love her blorbo’s for all their correct opinions and positions - did any of that work?? with no consequences?? in fact they’re rewarded for their behaviour: tarquin rescinds the blood rubies, everyone’s chiming in about how they knew rhysand was the good guy all along, no one cares about the high lord who is why they’re all free rn (okay feyre broke the curse — tamlin’s curse. tamlin killed amarantha. he is why rhysand is free to rewrite history and the others have a future) i’m surprised there wasn’t a scene where the lady of autumn apologises to feyre for being in the way of her attack smh

This is one of the reasons I cannot like Feyre. The justification that she “didn’t mean to” attack the Lady of Autumn or that “Beron was her intended target” makes absolutely no sense and, frankly, makes the situation worse. How is it any better that her recklessness and inability to control her powers led to an innocent woman nearly being killed? The Lady of Autumn was already a victim of Beron’s abuse and violence, and Feyre—who should, of all people, understand the trauma of being hurt or manipulated by powerful individuals—just becomes another threat to her. How is that defensible in any way?

Even if Beron was her intended target, that doesn’t excuse the collateral damage of almost killing someone who was completely uninvolved in the fight. Feyre’s powers are vast, yes, but she constantly wields them with this mix of entitlement and carelessness that makes her more of a liability than a hero. It’s one thing to make mistakes; it’s another to make catastrophic ones and have people excuse them as if the consequences don’t matter.

And let’s be real—Feyre is never held accountable for these actions. The narrative either brushes it off or turns it into another moment for someone to coddle her and tell her how amazing she is. Meanwhile, the Lady of Autumn is left to fend for herself, as usual, trapped in her abusive marriage, and probably now terrified of Feyre as well. The complete lack of responsibility Feyre takes—or is made to take—for her actions is one of the biggest reasons I can’t root for her. She’s not a savior; she’s a wrecking ball with a savior complex.

The entire High Lords meeting was, without question, a complete disaster. It was supposed to be this grand gathering where the courts would come together to ally against Hybern, but instead, it devolved into petty squabbles, veiled insults, and outright hostility. Rhysand, for all his posturing as the most “progressive” High Lord, walked into the meeting with an attitude so smug it practically dared the others to disagree with him. Tamlin, true to form, took the bait and immediately turned the whole thing into a personal grievance fest. Beron was his usual insufferable self, Helion was flirting, and everyone else seemed more interested in holding grudges than actually saving the world.

Nobody trusted anyone, and honestly, who could blame them? These are the same people who’ve been at each other’s throats for centuries, and now they’re supposed to just shake hands and work together? Rhysand’s attempts at diplomacy mostly amounted to thinly veiled threats, Feyre’s speeches did little to inspire confidence, and Amren just sat there looking like she wanted to kill someone. It was all spiraling into chaos.

And then came Nesta.

Nesta, who was barely even acknowledged as part of the delegation. Nesta, who didn’t care about politics, alliances, or playing nice. Nesta, who was so angry, so filled with righteous fury, that her words cut through the nonsense like a blade. When she stood up and spoke about what Hybern had done, about what they would do if the High Lords didn’t put aside their differences and act, she commanded the room. She didn’t appeal to their egos or try to manipulate them; she just told the truth in the most raw, unflinching way possible.

Her speech wasn’t about Rhysand’s court, or Tamlin’s grudges, or Beron’s smug indifference. It was about the people who would suffer and die if they didn’t unite. It was about the horrors she had witnessed and endured. It was about the cost of their pride and their inaction. And for the first time in the entire meeting, there was silence.

That speech was the turning point. It was the reason the High Lords agreed to set aside their centuries of animosity and work together. Not because of Feyre’s attempts to “inspire” them, not because of Rhysand’s threats, but because Nesta Archeron reminded them of what was at stake.

And here’s the kicker: even after she was the one who secured the alliances they needed, the credit still went elsewhere. Feyre, Rhysand, and their crew walked away looking like the saviors, while Nesta was left on the sidelines again. The meeting may have been a mess, but Nesta was the only reason it wasn’t an outright failure.

Bonus mention: My man Thesan was the only unproblematic one at that entire meeting. He showed up, minding his own business, probably thinking, “I am a healer, not a referee for this soap opera.” While everyone else was busy airing centuries of dirty laundry, Thesan was out here like, “So… about that war threatening all our lives?”

He didn’t come for the drama, didn’t throw unnecessary shade, and managed to keep his court from looking like an absolute circus. Honestly, if I were him, I would’ve been this close to kicking the entire Night Court delegation out.

If anyone deserved to walk out of that meeting with dignity, it was Thesan. The man probably, sat down with a glass of wine after, and said, “Never again.”

[neiptune]

hello santa neiptune for your holiday servings i think christmas pudding with either shoyo + a prompt 6 (family invited an old crush/first love to a dinner party) or sunsrin with prompt 19 ("I'm going to buy/make the worst secret Santa gift humanly possible") or atsumu with prompt 13 (neighbourhood festive decoration competition becomes dangerously competitive) smooch smooch smooch smooch

rintaro suna x I'm going to buy the worst secret santa gift humanly possible

“Shut up everyone, it’s time!”, Atsumu’s comically authoritarian tone swallows the chatter, the living room of his apartment growing silent.

“Why can’t we pick who we want to get a gift for?”, Aran grumbles from his end of the couch. The setter frowns.

“Because I think none of you assholes would pick me”.

“Whatever gave that away”, Suna clicks his tongue. A soft, empty stocking collides with his face.

“Yer picking first!”, Atsumu holds the old dunkin donuts box under his nose, shaking it slightly to further shuffle the folded pieces of paper in it.

“I’m going to buy the worst secret santa gift humanly possible”, Rintaro, ever the grinch, grumbles as slender fingers randomly draw a name.

“Rin, you’re supposed to look at it later!”, you lightly elbow him in the ribs but he pulls back, avoiding the jab. The only sign of something flashing across his deadpan features is a slight twitch of the brow as he reads the name he pulled out. Then it’s gone, small piece of paper tucked safely into the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Your turn”, Atsumu brings the box to you with a grin. You know he hopes you draw his name, you’re notoriously the best gift giver of the group and he wasn’t exactly ecstatic about the Blue Lock themed calendar Osamu got him the previous year, especially with that insufferable Rin dude occupying the page dedicated to his birth month.

“I hope it’s me”, Osamu crosses his fingers from the other side of the room, where he’s resting his back against the fireplace. You chuckle, keep the small piece of paper in your closed fist as you patiently wait for everyone else to draw their names.

The boys make a whole spectacle out of unfolding the pieces of paper, Atsumu the most teased one between whistles, oohs and ahhs. You make sure not to let the small pang of disappointment shine through your smile: you’re happy it’s Kita, you love Kita. You just would’ve loved for it to be Rin more.

The designated gift exchange day is a week later, right on christmas eve. The anxiety churning in your stomach is suffocating because why would you even get something for him too? All you had to do was pick a nice gift for Shinsuke, the easiest person to please on planet earth. But now there are two extra nicely wrapped presents under the tree in your living room, one of them will make you look like a complete dumbass because there won’t be any logical explanation to justify an additional gift. Atsumu will never shut up about it, like, ever. Fuck.

You’re abruptly pulled away from your thoughts when the doorbell rings, the sound making you jump. Confusion is still written all over your features when you open the door, not expecting any guest or delivery.

“Hey”, Rintaro tosses you a tiny smile to balance the hesitancy out.

“Rin”, surprised, you blink a few times, “you okay?”.

“Yeah. Can I come in?”.

“Of course!”.

He takes off his shoes and slowly steps into your apartment, cheeks unusually flushed courtesy of the cold outside.

“What’s that?”, you curiously peek at the bag he holds in his hand while he walks to your couch and you gingerly trail behind him.

“I’m your secret santa”, he clears his throat, “didn’t wanna give this to you in front of everyone. Don’t make it weird”.

You sit next to him with mirth swarming in stupidly bright eyes. Suna feels his palms getting clammy.

“So you wanted to give me the worst gift humanly possible… early?”.

“Exactly. Here”, he hands you the small paper bag, “you’re welcome”.

“You’re a dick”, you giggle, unable to disguise the affection in your voice.

Inside the bag there are two numbered envelopes. You open the first, smaller one.

“What the…?”, it’s a regular yellow post-it, with a handwritten note.

Congratulations on your hardly earned free time. Make the most of it :)

“Check the other one”, Suna indicates the remaining envelope.

“I’m confused”.

The second gift is… handmade coupons for messy, scribbled options: concert, one meal, roadtrip, win an argument, breakfast.

“You get two coupons. I kinda already have tickets for your favorite band”.

“But”, your throat feels dry, “I don’t… I have to work?”.

“You don’t. I emailed your boss, got you some time off, something you never would’ve done for yourself”, Suna looks away, inscrutable as always. Your heart slams harder against your ribcage.

“Rin”.

He meets your gaze and you offer a smile.

“I got you something too”.

thank you for trusting my writing, hope you enjoy! happy holidays mwah

[cinnaleaf]

「 Fireplace Freestyle | A Very Merry Footballer Ficmas 」

summary: you surprise your man with k dot tickets and he shows his appreciation by giving you a freestyle of his own | MDNI 18+

warnings: fluff, smut, oral (f receiving), language 🎅🏾: this was supposed to be longer fluff piece but my writer elf is ovulating and up to no good, what a ho ho ho | pt 3 of my ficmas series wc: ~1.7k

When Jules walked into the house, the first thing he noticed was how you somehow managed to turn the place into your Christmas inspo board on Pinterest. The tree he complained about dragging in last week stood tall in the living room, decked out in hand blown glass baubles, glittery gold ribbon, and a dusting of fake, but realistic looking snow.

You were sitting criss cross near the fireplace wearing fuzzy socks with a chunky knit blanket over your lap. As soon as you locked eyes with him you grinned wide, knowing you were about to rock his world and surprise him with the best Christmas gift ever. 

“You look like you’re up to something..” He eyed you, looking you up and down with his eyebrow raised as he dropped his keys on the overly decorated console table. You lost your train of thought for a second as you took in the sight of him. He was annoyingly fine and he never let you forget it every time he walked through the door.

“I have something for you” you teased in a sing-songy voice, doing a little dance like you were about to share a huge secret. 

He plopped down the rest of his stuff and crossed the room, leaning down to give you a sweet kiss. “C’est quoi? (what is it?)” he asked, speaking against your lips in a low tone.

“An early Christmas present. Just for you baby.”

He pulled back from you, tilting his head. “Nah.. no early presents. You said that. Remember?” He mimicked the conversation you had with him two weeks ago and then kissed his teeth. “I haven’t even went shopping for yours yet. Don’t do this to me mon amour.”

“It’s fine. Just open it, you’ll like it.” You held up the envelope, shaking it in your hand like it was a golden ticket. “You can’t say I’m not the best girlfriend ever after this.”

Jules eyed the envelope before taking it out your hand and ripping it open. When he pulled out the confirmation email for tickets to Kendrick Lamar’s upcoming tour, his mouth dropped. “Hold on...is this...?” He read the confirmation page in its entirety from top to bottom about three times and flipped it over to the back, expecting it to be a joke.

“Kendrick?! And it’s the Inglewood show too! How the hell did you get these..?”

You shrugged, all smug while smirking. “Ticketmaster can go to hell but I did it. Anything to make my man smile.” You legitimately went to war online for those tickets, but he didn’t need to know the privy details. It took you two phones, a laptop, and a sleepless night to grab them up, but you got the job done either way.

He leaned back, still processing while rubbing his jaw. “You serious?”

“Oui baby” you replied, still smiling from his reaction. “I was way too excited to wait until Christmas to tell you, so I–”

Jules cut you off and in one smooth motion, he pulled you onto his lap with the envelope still partially in his hand. “You..” he kissed your cheek. “Are…” he placed another kiss, but this time on your neck. “Incredible.”

You giggled but then he gripped your thighs and ran his hands up to your waist and you knew exactly where things were headed. “I’m glad you think so but–”

“Non, non, non.” His voice dipped low, brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Jules…”

“Shhh” He kissed below your ear, nibbling on the skin before roaming down further and kissing your collarbone.

It was a wrap after that. Jules could’ve told you a ridiculous lie and you would’ve believed him with the way his hands started caressing your body. His mouth moved lower, dipping his lips into the curvature of your chest while his hands went underneath the hem of your top. 

“I need this off, mon amour” he spoke against your skin. “Right now,” he commanded.

“But I’m not done decorating..” you whispered in a voice shaky as he started sliding your top off of you.

“Fuck decorating” You could hear the grin in his voice, probably because he knew he was about to give you a little present of his own. 

You didn’t argue – somehow all your clothes ended up on the floor and your head tipped back against the couch. The room felt hot, but it had nothing to do with the fireplace crackling a few footsteps away. Jules’ hands traced the outline of your body before moving to your nipples, where he softly rolled them between his fingers to make your breath hitch. 

“I should thank you properly” He slid down to his knees so suave you barely registered it until you were looking down at him. “Don’t you think so?”

You tried to answer, but the way he looked like he was about to devour you had you speechless.

“Say oui baby” he voiced in a teasing tone. “Or tell me to stop. Up to you.”

“Mm, oui” you moaned as he lightly placed a kiss on the inside of your knee, then the other, before spreading your legs apart with his hands. The fireplace glowed warmly against your skin as he kissed higher up, brushing his locs up against your thighs. He ran his thumb over the slickness of your folds, making you arch up against his hand involuntarily. You didn’t know why you were so sensitive, but you had to grip the couch to keep from falling off and he barely even touched you.

When he ran his thumb over your clit again, you whimpered and gripped the arm of the couch with one hand, and clutched the top of his head with the other. Your reaction egged him on and he dipped two fingers inside of your pussy before taking them out and bringing his fingers to your lips.

“Taste yourself, mon amour.”

You looked up at Jules seductively through your lashes, grabbing his wrist and twirling your tongue around his fingers to taste his favorite flavor – you.

A low groan escaped from Jules as he watched your lips wrap around his fingers. “Just like that baby. So damn sexy.”

You released his fingers with a soft pop and he leaned in to kiss you, sweeping his tongue over yours to get a taste of what was left. You moaned into the kiss when he gripped your thighs to drag you down to the edge of the couch.

“Relax for me” he whispered while pulling back to lower himself between your legs. His tongue striped against your folds and the moan that tore out of you was instant, making you buck your hips against his mouth. He pinned your thighs down with his hands in a firm grip, yet gentle enough to make you even wetter.

“Be good for me and stay still” he teased, making you shiver because his lips were ghosting over your clit as he spoke. “Let me hear how much you love it” The minute his tongue circled around your clit you did just that. 

The sound that came out of you sounded so desperate and whiny you barely recognized yourself. Jules was working against you like it was his last meal, flicking his tongue over your clit in a rapid motion with the perfect amount of pressure. Every flick, swirl, and vibrational hum had you writhing against the precision of his mouth while he alternated between teasing your clit and dipping his tongue inside of you. 

“You taste so good” his voice was muffled but his french accent had you ready to come undone with the way he said it. “I can eat you all night.”

The minute he said that, you became a babbling mess and your thighs locked around his head, quivering. His name came tumbling out of you in broken moans and breathless cries. He slid his fingers inside of you again, curling them just right as he took your clit into his mouth, sucking gently.

“Jules I’m gonna cum. Fuck..it’s too much” you whimpered in a shaky mess of a voice.

“You can do it baby” he growled, kissing the crevice where your thighs connected to your hip. “Show me how good I make you feel. Let it all out for me.” 

His fingers hooked inside of you and his tongue went right back to relentlessly ravaging your clit in quick flicks. You whined, trying to push him off of you from how good it felt but he wasn’t letting up.

“Don’t run from it. Take that shit. That’s my girl.”

The increasing pressure that was building up exploded, leaving you arching off the couch and screaming his name as you orgasmed. Your body shook uncontrollably as Jules groaned against you, and even then he didn’t stop. He kept going until he lit every nerve in you, dragging your orgasm out.

“Jules! Oh my god, yes!” you sobbed with your thighs trembling around his head while you tried to pull away, but he stayed put – lapping up everything you gave him like he couldn’t get enough of it.

When he finally pulled back, his face was glistening and he had a cocky smile on his face like he was more than satisfied. He placed a kiss on the inside of your thigh before joining you on the couch again, pulling you back onto his lap.

“You coming with me to Inglewood?” he asked, gazing into your half lidded eyes with a smirk.

“Obviously” you sassed while envisioning yourself next to him at the concert. “I didn’t go to war for those tickets just to stay at home.” You wrapped your arms around him, placing a kiss on his lips.

Jules grinned against your lips. “Merci, mon amour. Be ready though..I’m rapping every word.”

“Don’t embarrass me Jules. I’ll act like I don’t know you.”

“Ah, c’est comme ça? (it’s like that?)” he teased, grinning even more.

You smirked, running your fingers lightly over his locs. “Yeah.. it’s like that.”

“I’m front row embarrassing you then. Word for word, bar for bar. Especially when he does ‘squabble up’.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling as you pushed against his chest playfully. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Mm..I know” he said, pulling you close and kissing your cheek. “Best Christmas gift ever, mon amour. Hands down.”

[cariantha]

Sweet December

Book: Open Heart, Book 2 (post-attack) Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Category: Fluff, Christmas Word count: 1K Summary: Ethan eavesdrops on a conversation between Sawyer and her best friend. A/N: This fic was inspired by this Instagram reel and a little “Caption This” fun with a friend. It was meant to be an angsty fic, but then I listened to Sweet December by Brett Eldridge and Kelly Clarkson and changed directions. Merry Christmas!🎄

Events/Prompts: Participating in Winter Holidays 2024 hosted by @choicesholidays | Cuddling by the fireplace

With plans to spend their day off together, Ethan insisted that Sawyer come to his after her late-night shift at the hospital. The apartment was dark except for the glow of his bedside lamps, drawing attention away from the living room and the surprise he had set up for his girl. 

The tactic worked. An exhausted Sawyer entered the quiet apartment well after midnight and headed straight for the bedroom like a moth to the flame. After a quick kiss and a much-needed shower, she draped herself over Ethan’s body like a blanket and passed out within minutes. 

It was mid-morning when Sawyer padded into the kitchen, still a little groggy, with her phone pressed to her ear. Finding no evidence of Ethan's morning coffee, she assumed he was still at the gym, which was his usual weekend routine. 

“That sounds like so much fun. I’ve always wanted to visit New York during Christmas time…” Sawyer told the person on the other end of the line. “Maybe next year.”

Putting the phone on speaker so she could start the coffee, her best friend’s voice filled the room. 

“What about you? Are you going home to Arizona for Christmas?” Christian asked. 

“No. I love my family and know they are concerned, but they have been so overbearing that I’ve started dodging their calls,” she confessed. 

“Oof.” 

“I know,” Sawyer grimaced guiltily, “and I know they mean well, but I just need time to process things on my own. I can’t take any more time off, anyway. I just got back to work and need to catch up on my clinic hours. Besides, I’m looking forward to experiencing a Christmas like in the movies. You know, someplace cold enough that it snows, and you can cozy up by the fire and drink hot chocolate."

“Will you spend Christmas with Ethan, then?”   

From the living room, Ethan watched as Sawyer shrugged her shoulders. He’d been listening to their conversation while he lounged in front of the fireplace, waiting for her to turn around and notice him. 

"I don't want to assume, but I hope so," Sawyer answered softly, then sighed deeply. "God, Christian, I know it sounds so corny, but when I start feeling all upside down, he turns me right around."

"Awww..."

Ethan continued to watch and listen as she tinkered with the coffee machine. 

"We’re both working on Christmas, but a wintery night cuddling by the fire like we had at Dagger Mountain would be amazing. As for anything else, I think Ethan’s more the ‘spirit of Christmas’ type than the ‘holiday spirit’ type. Last year, when I came over to help with Naveen's case, I brought him one of those potted tabletop trees from the hospital gift shop because he didn't have a tree or a wreath or anything. It made me sad for him."  

Ethan raised his brows in surprise, then looked to the corner of the room where, the night before, he set a five-foot balsam fir into a tree stand. Boxes of ornaments and garland that the doorman helped carry into the apartment sat on the floor nearby.  

Christian chuckled. “You sound like Cindy Lou Who talking about the Grinch. Girl, he's been a bachelor for a long time. Guys don't care about that shit. Sam wouldn't bother either if it weren't for the boys."

"Yeah, I guess you’re right." 

A loud pop from the living room made Sawyer jump. She quickly spun around to find Ethan reclined in front of the fireplace. Christian’s voice faded into the background as Sawyer's senses awakened with the warmth of the roaring fire. The smell of fresh pine needles. The twinkling of white lights in the corner. The soft crooning of Bing Crosby’s “Silver Bells.” The taste of creamy chocolate and peppermint from the cup that Ethan walked over and offered her. 

“Sawyer? Hellooo… did I lose you?” 

Reaching for her phone, she apologized to her friend. “Sorry about that, um, Ethan just surprised me… Can I call you back later?” 

“Of course! I should go anyway. I think Sam and the boys are ready to leave for the ice rink.”

“Have fun and send me pics. Love you.”

“Love you, too, babe.”

Sawyer ended the call and set her phone aside. “Hi,” she greeted, standing on her tiptoes. 

“Morning,” Ethan answered, bending down to meet her halfway for a tender kiss. 

Gesturing to the living room, “What’s all this?”

“Since you're not going home for Christmas, I thought we could celebrate together. Here.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he confirmed with a peck to her lips.

“I’d love that...” she blushed with embarrassment, “as you probably heard.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and looked at the glowing tree. “You bought a real tree?”

“Given your family’s Christmas tree business, I knew anything else would be considered sacrilege.”

She smiled up at him. “You remembered that?” 

“When it comes to you, I remember everything.”

Pressing herself tighter against him, Sawyer rested her cheek on his chest. “It’s so cozy in here. And look! It’s snowing outside.” Sawyer moved to sit on the sofa, tugging the sleeve of Ethan’s robe to get him to follow. “Come cuddle with me.”

Ethan sat, draping an arm over her shoulder, tucking her into his side. But just as they got comfortable, Ethan moved to stand up. 

“Where are you going?”

“I forgot,” he started, “I bought one of those big fluffy blankets you said I needed for cuddling on the couch. It’s in the hall closet.”

Sawyer smiled so big. “You are so sweet sometimes.”

“Sweet?! Uh-oh, my reputation for being a Grinch is in jeopardy.”

Reminded again that he heard every word of her conversation, she scowled at him. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to eavesdrop? You could have cleared your throat or something.”

Ethan winked, letting her know there was nothing to worry about. “Let me grab the blanket.”

“No,” she demanded, catching his hand before he walked away. Lying back, she pulled him down and on top of her. “A blanket’s good, but you’re even better.”

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @peonierose  @potionsprefect @trappedinfanfiction 

@jerzwriter @queencarb @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @jamespotterthefirst 

@liaromancewriter @tveitertotwrites @tessa-liam @youlookappropriate @kyra75

@socalwriterbee @txemrn @midnightmelodiz @snoopdogcone

@rafasgirl23415

[sunshines-through]

I don’t trust you

[sunsetsandsunshine]

AHHH I'm so happy youre back to writing! I felt like the Rottmnt tickle community was dying there.

Been dying for a lee! Mikey Ler! Big bros fic.

~ 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗… ~

❤️💜🐢💙🧡 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 ❤️💜🐢💙🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙾𝙷 𝙼𝚈 𝙶𝙾𝚂𝙷, 𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽 🥲💔⁉️ 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙱𝚁𝙾𝙺𝙴 𝙼𝚈 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝙸 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂??? 𝙰𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝙸’𝙼 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚖𝚗𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚖𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎…𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝🩷💝💕˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟸,𝟼𝟹𝟸

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝙻𝚎𝚛’s: 𝚁𝚊𝚙𝚑 🐢❤️, 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 (𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚘’𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚕𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚊). 𝙱𝚞𝚝…𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝…

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚈'𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕. 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!) 

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @shut-up-jo @veryblushyswitch @someone1348 @pocky-dragon

@danineedshelp @jamiesgotchu @saturnzskyzz @savemeafruitjuice

@my-l0v3r-v3rse @mythica0 @titters-and-tingles

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙴 𝙵𝙸𝙲!!! 𝙵𝙸𝙲 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶!!! 

𝚃𝚆: 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐/𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐/‘𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐’ 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙶𝚎𝚗 𝙰𝚕𝚙𝚑𝚊 (😵)!!! 𝙸𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏����𝚎𝚕 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚊𝚢…𝙸 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 😅…

𝙰𝙻𝚂𝙾 𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚅𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙾 𝙱𝙴𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙸𝙲 𝚃𝚁𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝙼𝙴 𝙾𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙶𝚄𝚈𝚂 𝙸’𝙼 𝙳𝙾𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙰 𝙵𝙰𝚅𝙾𝚄𝚁

𝚂𝙺𝙸𝙿 𝚃𝙾 𝟶:𝟷𝟿– 𝙸𝚃𝚂 𝙱𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝙵𝚄𝙽𝙽𝚈 🕺🏾✨ 

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙴𝙽𝙹𝙾𝙾𝙾𝙾𝚈𝚈𝚈𝚈˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“MOVE YOU’RE HIPS, MIKEY!!!” Donnie yelled at his orange cladded younger brother. 

“I’M TRYING!!!” The box turtle yelled back, “DOES IT LOOK LIKE I’M SHAKIRA?!”

“WELL, YOU’RE HIPS DEFINITELY DO LIE BECAUSE I SEE NO FUCKING MOVEMENT!” The elder yelled in return which earned a loud snort of amusement from Leo in the peanut gallery; the slider enjoying the chaos and banter between Mikey and Donnie. 

It was a nice Saturday evening and the four brother’s spent the day just…casually hanging out, for no exact reason in particular. The brother’s just truly wanted to chill (for today…).

They did karaoke, binged movies, and y’know…just chilled. That’s what Summer was about: relaxation. 

Well…they were relaxed.

Until their nerdy scientist brother found a TikTok video that he quote on quote ‘Had to learn to get with the trendy trends for his likey likes.’

His words, not mine.

And so, he dragged Mikey into it because the dance required about two people (and Donnie wasn’t trying to make it seem like he was lonely). But sadly and not surprisingly, the young scientist has been trying to teach the youngest the choreography for about…3 hours.

3 hours. 

Let that sit with you for a second. Let that marinate. 

And let’s just say…Donnie’s patience wasn’t exactly the best. Especially when it came to dance. Plus, this dance wasn’t even hard! All that was required to do was move your hips and do dramatic hand movements like some stereotypical blonde ordering an overcomplicated Starbucks order!

In conclusion: not hard at all! 

And Donnie knew he wasn’t raised with a piece of cardboard! Mikey knew how to dance…!

…To an extent, anyway…

“It’s not my fault I’m stiff!” The youngest whined which only caused the second oldest to simply scoff, rolling his eyes with sass, “Well it’s gotta be someone’s fault.”

“It’s probably Draxum’s.” The slider suggested. 

“I concur. It is probably Draxum’s fault.” Donnie agreed, “Anyway, stiff or not stiff, I need you to learn how to do this dance.” The box turtle groaned again at the comment, “Why me though? Why can’t you just do it with Leo or something???”

“Me and Leo already learned the dance!” The softshell huffed proudly, “We learned, practiced and recorded it all yesterday.” 

“Twin type shit.” The second youngest added on, sending Donnie finger-guns. 

“Twin type shit.” The purple loving turtle amusedly agreed, not doing the same hand movement but just doing an awkward thumbs up which Leo couldn’t help but giggle to. 

Raph, who was sitting next to Leo on the couch scratched the top of his head a bit, pondering slightly. “Why don’t you try doing a different dance?” The eldest suggested, “Y'know…maybe one that doesn’trequire so much hip movement…?”

“Like The TikTok Rizz Party dance!” Leonardo happily suggested, standing up excitedly which only earned hard glares from all of his brothers. The second youngest rolled his eyes at the looks, putting a hand on his hip, “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You gotta admit: it’s simple to learn.”

“It’s not a dance— it’s a freaking demon ritual.” The snapping turtle deadpanned. 

“Same difference...” Leonardo huffed, sitting back down next to his older brother. Raph sighed impatiently, rubbing his temples like a single Mom that worked two jobs (sorry not sorry for that reference), “I’m too young for all of this bullshit…”

“Raph!” The youngest suddenly wailed, “Aren’t I moving my hips???” Mikey whined impatiently, demonstrating the dance which got a small stifled giggle from Leo. The leader in blue got up, covering his mouth to try and stop himself from laughing as he went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

The eldest turtle grimaced, trying to hold back his laughter as well, “You’re…You’re moving something…” 

“He’s moving his fucking chest and shoulders…” Donnie explained, “Which are nowhere near your hips.” 

“Again: The Tik Tok Rizz Party is still an option.” Leonardo happily said as he went back to the lounge area and started to do the quote on quote ‘Tik Tok Rizz Party’ dance. The purple loving teen inwardly cringed as he watched his slightly younger brother’s antics, sighing sadly as he covered his face. 

Of all the individuals he had to be twins with…

“Sit your hyperactive ADHD ass down.” Raph demanded as he grabbed Leo’s shell with his hand, forcing him to sit back down.

“Anyways. Angel, I want you to move with your hips!” The softshell emphasized again, going behind Mikey and squeezing his hips to demonstrate how and when the youngest was supposed to move them (since the box turtle was apparently having an issue separating his chest from his hips).

Y'know, stiff people problems. Something Donnie couldn’t possibly relate to nor understand. 

“EEP-!!!”The youngest suddenly squealed, his face morphing to one of giddy panic, “D-Deehee! Noho stahahap!”

“I am helping you with your atrocious dancing, you buffon! Now stay still!” The second oldest huffed, squeezing the shortest turtle’s hips again. 

“You’re 'helping' tihihickles!” Mikey complained, holding onto his scientist brother’s wrists in a small attempt to stop him. Which didn’t…obviously. But it was worth a shot. An A for effort some might call it. 

Donnie tried to stifle his giggles, raising a confused brow, “Oho, my helping tickles, now does it? How is that even possible, my dear younger brother?” 

“Wahait w-wahahait dohohon’t— *squeal* nahahaha!” Mikey laughed, throwing his head back on Donnie’s shoulder as his knees gave out, trying to retreat unto the floor but his older brother only followed him as he did so.

“Don’t? Don’t what~?” The second oldest turtle asked incocently, scribbling his fingers against the other’s sides. The box turtle curled in on himself on the carpeted floor, kicking his legs back and forth. 

Donnie snickered, “Dude, I’m genuinely asking! What do you mean 'don’t'~?” 

Michelangelo just hugged his middles as he squirmed and screeched, giggling his small little heart out as his older brother tickled him. The young scientist sighed dramatically, sitting on the youngest’s legs as he stopped tickling him for a moment. 

“Hey, guys?” Donatello said as he turned to the red and blue duo sitting on the couch, “I miiiiight need some help over here. I’m feeling ignored by this one— he’s not answering me.” He deadpanned as he jabbed the turtle below him in the side, causing the youngest to sound like a overpowered drill screwdriver fusion. 

“Say less.” Raph grinned, going over to the PB&J duo as Leo quickly followed right behind. 

Okay…well, this hang-out-with-your-brothers-just-because-you-can hangout was turning left veryquickly. Perhaps that’s what Mikey gets due to the fact that he was spinning left and Donnie was spinning right…

Even though the purple banded turtle told him numerous times to turn the other direction, the youngest didn’t feel like listening. I guess he now knows how the second oldest feels when Mikey doesn’t pay attention to his 4 hour yap sessions.

As one smart, tooootally not demented 21 year old said: Karma’s a bitch. 

The box turtle squealed loudly as his other brother’s approached next to him and sat down. The youngest immediately retracted into his shell as panicky giggles from him echoed around the lair. 

The three older brother’s collectively groaned, knowing they’ve alllll danced this dance before. “Ugh…I hate when he does that…” Leo complained dramatically as he crossed his arms across his plastron. Raphael cracked his knuckles, his grin widening, “Don’t worry, boys. I got this.” The red banded turtle put the Mikey in his lap, blowing a raspberry directly on the youngest’s stomach. 

The reaction was almost like the speed of light as the orange banded turtle immediately erupted into loud mouse cackles, trying to wriggle his way out of his older brother’s iron grip although now that he was caught in the lion’s den…his attempts of escaping were now futile.  

“WHAHA— *squeak*?! NAHAHA?!?! *Squeak* RAPH RAPH RAHAHAPH!!!” Michelangelo giggly sputtered out, his laugh raising a pitch as Raphael refused to take any breath’s on the raspberry and just continued and continued. 

And Mikey knew Raph. For heaven’s sakes, that was his brother. The paint loving turtle knew (definitely NOT from experience) that Raph would not take a break unless the orange banded got out of his shell. 

“WHYHYHYHY???” The orange banded turtle cackled, his limbs and head coming out of his shell as he tried to glare at his brothers, which they all couldn’t help but awe to. “Awe, there you are~! Now this is definitely a fair fight!” The gentle giant happily exclaimed, removing his head from Mikey’s stomach. 

“ThIHIs ihis ahan ahamBUHUSH!!!” 

“Same difference.” Leo shrugged, squeezing the box turtle’s ankles repeatedly. “NAHAT THEHE FEEHEEHEET!!!” The orange banded turtle cried, kicking his legs around to try and make Leo dislodge his grip on his ankle. “Jeeheez…I didn’t eheven doohoo anything yehet!” The slider commented smugly.

“Guess it tickles that bad, huh, Mikester~?” The blue banded turtle teased. 

“BEEHEE QUIHIHIET YOHOU AHAHASS!!!”

Leo dramatically gasped at the rebuttal, gently pulling his little brother’s toes back and scribbling his fingers all over his arch. “That is no way to talk to your beloved older brother!” The slider lightly scolded. Donnie, who was next to Mikey nodded in agreement, his fingers pinching all over his littlest brother’s ribs, “I think someone needs to be taught a lesson…” 

“NOHOHAHAH! IHI DAHA— *squeak* DOHOHON’T!!!” The box turtle protested, swatting his hands on Raph’s arm like a drunk jellyfish. “And hitting too?!” The blue banded teen announced, “Your reeeeallyasking for it…” 

Raphael raised a hand, wiggling his fingers near Mikey’s neck. The turtle in question paled, “NAHAT THEHE NEHEHECK!!! YOHOU GUHUYS IHI ACTUALLY CAHAN’T DOOHOO THIHIHIS PLEHEHEASE—“

“Your neck? Oh, what a great idea!” Donnie smiled sweetly, one of his hands dancing around the right side of the fake dancer’s neck as Raph dipped his head in the other side. “IIIII…gitchie gitchie gotchu~!” The gentle-giant teased, rubbing his face back and forth in the crook of the youngest’s neck. 

Mikey let out the most inhuman screech to ever exist in between his cackles, shaking his head and scrunching his shoulders desperately, “LEHEHET MEEHEE GOHOHAHAHA!!!” He squeaked. 

“WHYHYHY MEEHEEHEE?!?!” The box turtle whined despreatley through his laughs, unable to do anything but just lay in Raph’s lap and just take the tickles at this point in time. 

Speaking of, WHY was he getting tickled by his big brothers in the first place again??? What the hell did he even DO to deserve this torment? They all just basicslly jumped him as if he had money on him or something!!!

And for the record: Mikey in fact did not. This time at least. 

He borrowed some cash from April last week but immediately put it inside of his piggy bank the second he got home. Since he knew either one of his greedy grubby hand brother’s would snatch that cash cash money cash cash right away…

But…wait.

What was Mikey pondering about again???

“Because you’re the youngest.”The blue loving teen simply said, “Aaaaand we just gotta tickle the heck out of you ‘cuz you’re just so cute~!” Leo cooed playfully, his hands squeezing and prodding at Mikey’s knees. 

“Not too much now, Leo. You’re a baby brother too.” Donnie commented smugly. “By two seconds!!!” The blue banded turtle pouted, glaring at the soft-shell. The soft-shell in question chuckled at the angry face expression, kneading Mikey’s hips mercilessly. “Two seconds that makes you the second youngest. And a baby brother.” He taunted, grinning at the annoyed look that his younger twin was giving him. 

“What are you guys going on about? You’re all baby brothers.” Raph exclaimed.

“So are you!” Leo huffed, “April exists, y’know!”

“GUHUHUHUYS!!!” The youngest screamed, trying to get his siblings attention as they bickered. “Hm? What’s wrong, little bro? Did the Tickle Monster find a bad spot~?” Raph asked, now blowing raspberries at the orange banded turtle’s neck. 

“YOHOU— *squeal* FAHACK!!! GOHOH AWAHAHAY!!!” The box turtle screamed. Leo rolled his eyes fondly, scoffing lightly, “You love this so don’t even, Miguel.” 

“Why should we go away~?” The eldest fake pouted, tickling Mikey under his chin lightly, “Is this a bad spot~? Is that why? Yeah~? Awe, what a shame…” 

“PLEHEHEASE BEEHEE QUIHIHI— *squeak*!!!” The youngest bellowed, “STAHAHA— STAHA—!!! PLEHEHEASE AHANHTHING BUHUHUT THAHAHAT!!!”Mikey purely went into silent cackles, happy tears falling down his face as tiny mouse squeaks followed. “IHIHI *squeal* SURRENDER!! GUHUYS PLEHEHEASE *squeal* I’M *squeal* GOHOHONNA DIHIHIE!!!”

The three brother’s removed their tickling hands, ceasing their attack as the youngest wheezed out remaining laughs breathlessly, “Ihi cahan’t breeheeathe…”

“Considering the fact that you are talking right now (which requires you to breathe), I think you’ll be fine.” Donnie commented, handing Mikey a glass of water which the youngest basically snatched and chugged in 2 seconds flat.

Freaking heathen…

“Did we go too far?” Leo dramatically gasped, going over and taking the orange banded teen from the eldest’s lap, squeezing Mikey in a hug and looking him over like he was a random exotic species specimen. “You're not dead...right? Oh man, Dad will literally kill me if I accidentally killed you…wait. That would make me the youngest. Oh well, I never wanted a younger brother anyway...”

“Hey hehey hehehey! Slow your freaking role! Ihi aham nohot dead!” The box turtle giggled, raising a brow at his immediate older brother’s antics. The slider sighed mockingly, “Had all my hopes up for nothing…” 

The smallest turtle rolled his eyes at the comment before having a moment of realization, “Whahat were weehee eheven doing agahain…?” Mikey giggly asked, resting his head against Leo’s shoulder as the slider rubbed his carapace. “Teaching you to dance.” Donnie sighed sadly, “But, alas, some things were just not meant to be.” 

Mikey glared playfully before landing his eyes on his scientist brother’s phone that was leaning up on one of the tables. “Dee! You were recording???” The box turtle screeched, hiding his face in his shell as the others laughed. “Don records everything, little bro. With or without his phone. So either way you were gonna end up being recorded.” Raph explained teasingly. 

“You never know, Mikejandro, maybe you’ll blow up on Tik Tok!” Leo suggested, “I’d call it: The Disgruntled Demise of a Box Turtle.” 

“Talk about word vomit…” The scientist mumbled under his breath, going to where his phone stood as his siblings bickered in the background. The soft-shell replayed some of the footage as he muted the video, smiling softly (get it? Soft-shell, smiling softly? I’m so funny you guys…) at the shenanigans that unfolded not too long ago. 

The second oldest chuckled softly (still get it?) to himself, putting his phone in his sweatshirt pocket as he went back to where his brother’s were sitting. 

“…Do you guys think I can fit 5 s’mores in my mouth?” Mikey suddenly asked. 

“Michael…please don’t do that. You could choke.” Donnie shuddered.

“Plus, you’re being a coward.” Leo added, “Try 10.” 

“I think 15 is better.” Raph grinned, “But it’s okay if you can’t do it. No one could ever beat Raph’s 25 s’mores record...” The red banded teen huffed out proudly. 

“…it’s ‘cuz you’re fucking rotund, man. No one would or could beat you even if we hired a whole football team to go up against you.” The art loving teen said. 

Raphael blinked confused, “Ro-tuh-wha—?” 

“He’s calling you fat.” Donnie giggly explained. 

Raph’s jaw comically opened wide in awe, hitting his littlest brother’s shoulder, “RAPH IS NOT FAT!!!” He shouted defensively. 

“Whatever you say, Jupiter…” Mikey retorted almost immediately as the twins completely lost it, the three smaller turtles soon descending into loud contagious cackles. The red banded turtle crossed his arms, glaring at them profusely, “You all are my 13th reason…” The eldest grumbled miserably, despite the soft small smile clearly evident on his face. 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)