#I found one btw its making me giggle

[olivers-cocoapuffs]

You know what I need in this moment of chaos? A cold cigarette to ease the pain (a Drarry modern au texting fic)

[kaisturni]

cabin fever | m. sturniolo

→ matt x fem!reader

→ plot; things are heating up at the triplet’s cabin in vermont; especially between you and matt. the group of you, him, his brothers, nate and madi spend a needed getaway at the cozy house. unknown to everyone else, confessions, tension, and late nights make it even hotter between you two.

→ includes; smut, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, f!oral receiving (matt the munch AF), mentions of drinking, blood/bleeding (NOT PART OF THE SMUT), light fluff

→ a/n; madi nate nick and chris all have super minor roles and they don’t add to the plot at all btw. this one is HOT. CALOR. CALIENTE. (imo) enjoy!

MINOR PROOFREADING

——————————————————————————

“hey, we’re here,” a voice gently whispers to me, i realize belonging to nick as i slowly come back to consciousness.

the groggily feeling of sleep soon goes away and in its place is excitement; we’re finally at the cabin.

this isn’t my first time vacationing with the triplets; we’ve been going here since we were little. once becoming friends with nate and madi, they soon joined in on our yearly trip to the cabin.

i almost immediately fall stepping out of the car, my brain forgetting that my body was completely stagnant during the 4 hour car ride up here.

i put my hands out and brace for impact; but it never comes. instead a pair of arms swiftly caught me before i had my lunch with the gravel,

“dude, you gotta be more careful,” a voice chuckles from behind my head. it’s matt; i know his voice the best out of all of them.

he helps me stand up right, “whew thanks,” i breathe out with a laugh, he says nothing but delivers a nod in response. i turn on heels to grab my suitcase from the trunk,

“here let me help you, wouldn’t want you to almost fall again,” he offers, i roll my eyes at him as he takes the duffel bag from my arms and slings it over his shoulder, not giving me any time to think of a response.

i know to some that may seem flirtatious, but unfortunately it isn’t. sometimes i can’t help but feel disappointed that there isn’t something more but the guilt of feeling like that towards one of my best friends since childhood is stronger than my urges.

however, i would be a liar if i said i didn’t find him attractive. the tattoos on his body, light stubble he lets grow in sometimes, messy curls, plump lips, his eyes… jaw…

i quickly get the ongoing list of the physically mouth watering things about matt out of my head; feeling almost a guilt that i found him so hot. i shouldn’t think about one of my best friends since childhood this way, so i force myself not to.

forgetting about my previous daydreams, i follow the rest of them into the house, taking in the joy of being at the cabin again.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧

the house is big enough to where everyone is lucky to have their own room, and mine sits at the end of a long hallway, just past where chris and nate sleep.

i open the door and smile at the sight that matt has already placed my stuff down on the bed for me.

i internally slap myself, why am i reading into this? he just put my stuff down in my room. nothing else about it.

i take my duffel off the bed and seat it on the floor beside me and replace it with myself on its cushioning. i hear a knock at my door,

“come in!”

thinking i’m going to be met with matt in my doorframe, i look up, and i am only about half right.

“we’re gonna start cooking dinner now since it’s getting pretty late and we’re all starving, wanna help?” chris asks, poking his head between the a small sliver in the door.

i can’t help but giggle at his actions, “yes, i’ll help you, but next time you knock just open the door all the way, don’t be creepy,” i kick my feet up and yank the door open,

“i’m not creepy i’m polite!” he argues, voice fading as he descends to the kitchen,

“never said that!” i joke, my footsteps quickly follow behind him.

i join the rest of my friends in the kitchen, and start slicing vegetables, while chris and madi go on their own dinner tasks.

getting way too caught up in a conversation with nick, my knife skills began to be… less than subpar.

“FUCK!” i yell and instinctively drop the knife, the sound of the blade echoing through the room and blood from a large cut in my hand leaking everywhere on the counter causes all hell to break loose.

“oh my god! do we need to go to the ER?!”

“get a towel, NOW!”

“i’m fine, i’m fine!” i yell, doing my best to stop the panic from everyone else, the pressure from the towel stopping the blood flow for now.

“we need to get that cleaned, the first aid kit is in my room, come on,” matt says, taking my unadulterated hand into his and guiding me upstairs into his bedroom.

“sit,” he points to his bed and i follow his finger and take a seat on the edge of the mattress.

he ruffles through a drawer and pulls out a large first aid kit, since when was it in his room?

“this will sting like a bitch, but it’ll stop it from getting infected,” he says, shaking a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and removing the make shift dressing i have from my hand.

i close my eyes tightly and wince at the contact of it on my skin, biting my lip through the pain.

“it’s almost over, don’t worry. i’m gonna put some ointment on it then a bandage okay?”

his words are soft and comforting, which somehow eases the pain to a lower level than before.

he applies the ointment first, and i sign blissfully at the relief it has on my wound.

“that’s it, you’re doing so well,” he adds casually, wrapping the bandage around my finger.

i can feel my cheeks grow hot at his statement, him not knowing the effect his words of praise had on me.

i internally slap myself again. why do i keep thinking about him like this? jesus christ there’s something wrong with me.

“thank you matt,”

“anytime.”

for a moment, we just stare at each other. the silence is almost suffocating, and for the first time i feel like he wants to say something but doesn’t. i wonder if he thinks the same thing about me today.

i decide to quickly break the silence, “let’s go back down and eat, yeah? i don’t know about you but i’m starving,” i lie, i’m actually not hungry at all. almost cutting my hand off had a way of perfectly curving my appetite, but it’s the only thing i can think to say to rip me out of the chokehold that this silence has on me.

“me too, c’mon” he stands up and reaches out his hand for mine.

i’ve never been more confused in my fucking life. it was one thing to catch me when i fall, bring my suitcase inside, but praise me? hold my hand twice? i don’t know if i’m just delusional or if this is part of some code matt wants me to decipher, either way, i’m at my wits end.

i take his hand to help me up, and he smiles at me and we drop our hands at the same time. i smile back and he turns away to lead us back downstairs, i make sure he’s first so that he doesn’t see my face contort into a look of embarrassment.

definitely way over thinking it.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧

after a great dinner and a few drinks all around, everyone says their goodnights and head to their bedrooms.

i do the same, and after a few hours, despite no one else in the house being awake and a couple drinks in me, i am nowhere near the point of falling asleep.

tossing and turning is all i can manage myself to do, sweating i don’t know which; being so hot and bothered by everything matt has done earlier or the vermont heat just personally attacking me and only me tonight.

i peel off the sheets and pillows, and it provides me with some relief for a little, but does nothing to fight my consciousness. with this temperature, maybe i just need a glass of water.

i creep downstairs as quiet as i can to not wake anyone, and i do the same with opening the fridge.

i look through it for a few seconds trying to find a water bottle, when a sudden voice behind me makes me jump,

“couldn’t sleep either?”

it’s matt. what the fuck, i thought he was asleep?

“matt, you scared the shit out of me! i thought you were asleep,”

i put my hand on my chest to cure the spike in heart rate, and turn around changing my focus back to the fridge.

“looking for a water? great minds think alike,” I hear his feet shuffle close behind me, and i feel the immediate spike in heart rate come back again when he moves me over, brushing up against me with a steady grip on my waist.

“right over here,” he says? pulling out two water bottles from the fridge. i feel like i’m going to fucking explode.

“thanks,” i crack open the lid, “so what’s keeping you up this late?” i say as my best attempt at remaining as calm and cool as possible.

“eh, y’know, just thinking about things. what about you?” he asks, and we sip simultaneously.

there’s honestly two answers to this question, I could say the truth or i could just agree.

i decide to go with the significantly less risky answer, but before i can even get the first word out he starts again,

“idea, let’s go in the hot tub,” his smile is so fucking innocent when he says it, it just drives me nuts.

i don’t even bother bringing up how ‘the heat is bothering me’ when he’s standing there, asking—no, not even asking me to go to the hot tub with him; telling me.

“oh yeah i’m down. maybe the heat will help us get sleepy,” i lie through my teeth, but saying it as nonchalantly as possible so he hopefully can’t hear the nervousness in the undertones of my voice.

“perfect, i’ll go change real quick and meet you out there,” he slips away with a light jog and i head his door close before i can even actually process what’s going on.

unfortunately there’s no time to think too deeply about it, and i book it to my room to change.

i have a couple options that i need to decide through quickly, ultimately landing on a dark blue stringed two piece.

i throw on the tshirt i had while sleeping over my bikini and quietly jog to the hot tub, located on the back end of the property, in its own reserved area. matt is already in there waiting for me, arms spread and his eyes lock with mine right when i come outside.

“hey,”

“hi, how’s the tem-“

“are you just going to stand there and talk or are you going to come in?” his words leave me slightly dumbfounded, but i can bounce back from this.

“oh, i’m coming,” i say, beginning to peel off the shirt I have on. i walk to the edge and begin to lower myself in, matt’s eyes locked on my body the whole time.

i pretend not to notice.

“thank you,” i say to him, a confused look popping on his face.

“for what?”

“taking care of me today, you didn’t have to do anything you did at all,” the words somehow just flow out of my mouth without realizing and i watch him as he lets out a light hearted laugh and looks down,

“you already thanked me today before, but no problem, i wanted to,” he replied, turning his gaze to match mine, i swear i feel like his eyes can see into my soul when he looks at me now.

“you did? why?” i ask out of genuine curiosity. it’s not like he would have never done something for me before today, but it was different; it was how he did. whether it has to do with me specifically or not, i really want to know.

“you’re my favorite girl in this world, how could i just not take care of you?” i don’t notice that we’ve slowly been moving towards each other this entire conversation, and now our bodies are just a few inches apart.

“this whole time i was thinking you were just being nice— matt, you don’t know what you do to me,” i confess, my stare going back and forth between both his eyes, aching for any hint at what he could be thinking.

“god, speak for yourself, it’s almost impossible to stop how i feel about you; or hide it” he pushing the hair in front of my face behind my ear and pulls me closer to him by the back of my neck.

the feeling i had when he caught me today, cleaned my hand and praised me, brushed up against me, all comes rushing back to me instantly, blissful in the knowing that it’s justified.

“can i kiss you?”

this man could not get any more perfect.

“mhm,” i give out and nod in affirmation, and immediately feel his lips press against mine.

at first the kiss is slow and deep, his hands not being able to sit still against my skin.

i feel the heat between legs rise, and i shortly become impatient with the painfully slow pace he’s at. as much as i love it, i’m craving more; more of him.

i gently bite and suck on his bottom lip, earning a groan from him, and he instantly gets the message. his kisses become sloppier, less tamed, and they start to work their way down my neck.

i moan in pleasure as he sucks the sweet spot between my neck and my collarbone, holding my back and nipping as he makes his way up to hungrily claim my lips.

“can i take this off?” he waits for my consent, fiddling with the small strings that are holding my bathing suit together.

“do whatever you want to me,” i breathe out, and i mean it.

he pulls me in by my waist and kisses me again, our tongues battling as he unties the strings of my bikini top and removes the fabric between us without breaking a single kiss.

the cold air on my tits compared to the steaming hot tub causes me to gasp, and i pull even closer to matt, pressing my chest against his own.

he moans lightly and moves his mouth from mine, holding me up by the legs around his lips to carry me to the edge of the hot tub.

in no time he claims my nipple, sucking and licking hard on the area, making me grow even wetter by the minute.

“mmh, matt��� i moan out, tipping my head back in pleasure.

“feels good, baby?” i nod vigorously, and he descends his kisses down me stopping when he gets in between my legs to my clothed core.

his thumb circles my clit, and i have to bite my lip in order to not scream his name immediately.

“you’re so wet already, i love it. can i taste you baby?” he purrs, knowing exactly what kind of answer he’s getting, well aware of the state he put me in.

“y-yes, god, please do,” i beg him, and he works immediately to untie the strings of my bottoms and let them fall off, exposing myself to him.

the steam from the hot tub does not do me any favors in the burning heat in my core, both from that and the sheer fact i want him to fuck me senseless right now.

“mmm” matt begins,

“i knew your pussy would be pretty, just look at how beautiful you are,” he rubs his fingers between my wet folds and i blush at his words.

“i’m gonna show you how beautiful you are,” he says, right before pushing my legs further apart for him to suck my clit.

i can’t help myself from grabbing a handful of his brown locks and squeezing my legs together against his head, and he groans in response.

his groan sends vibrations further into my pussy, making it even more impossible to suffocate the loud moans escaping from my lips.

he goes to work making out with my core, and each suck, kiss, and moan makes me exponentially closer to exploding all over him.

“m-matt i feel it i’m-“ and he stops, i shoot him a confused look, attempting to get rid of the edge that’s holding me right now.

i rub my own clit, looking him in the eye and watch his breath hitch as i moan at my own self pleasure.

i almost manage to stick two fingers in myself, but before that happens he grabs my wrists, taking the pleasure from me yet again.

“i stopped because i want you to cum on my dick, can you do that for me?” he questions softly, rubbing his clothed erection on my pussy.

the feeling of it makes me buzz, “yes i can matt, fuck me,” i say in a mix of demanding and asking, and he removes himself from his black swim trunks and lets his throbbing dick spring out.

he pumps himself a few times before aligning up with my entrance. matt pushes himself in, lewd noises escaping from both of our mouths and bodies slapping against one another.

“yeah, take that shit baby. you’re doing so well.” he moans into my ear, his repeated statement of praise is music to me.

“you’re so beautiful, how can anyone be so perfect,” he breathes out, hard deep strokes becoming sloppier by the minute.

matt’s words cause me to hit dangerously close to cumming, and without warning i paint white all over his dick; but that doesn’t stop him”

“sorry i d-didn’t say it happened s-so fast,” i apologize as he keeps thrusting into me,

“mm don’t be sorry, you did just what i asked. i’m gonna cum too angel,”

“cum in me, matt”

he wastes no time arguing with me and releases shortly after into me; his and my own liquids leaking down my thigh.

i do my best to catch my breath, and he cups my face and presses a sweet kiss on my nose,

“i made a mess outta, you huh,” he laughs playfully, also trying to regain his own air.

i let out a tired laugh of my own “yeah, i’m gonna have to shower and go to bed; after all that, im surprisingly ready to sleep,” i tease and poke his chest, he drops his jaw pretending to be offended.

“yeah yeah, surprisingly, whatever. can i join you in that shower?” he suggests, handing me a towel before covering himself with one too.

“hm, only if you join me in my bed after,” i smile, wrapping my body in the soft material,

“deal,” he whispers, kissing my head, carrying me all the way to his bathroom, before grabbing my things and putting them on his bed.

except this time, it’s our bed.

[loserlvrss]

𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 l. minho ( 이민호 )

synopsis | minho will always take care of who he loves, and you love that.

pairing : lee minho x fem!reader genre : drabble, domestic fluff warnings : mentions of being sick & food, skinship word count : 0.6k authors note : i know u know lee know btw

“just sit down,” your boyfriend was pushing you into the barstool beside the kitchen island.

your arms crossed over your front, features pouting. “you know, minho, i’m sick, not useless.” you exaggerated with your hands, swinging them out beside you. “i can—i can, i don’t know, cut up the carrot or something!”

he smiled adoringly at you, like one would a cute animal or small child, and shook his head. “what kind of chef boyfriend would i be if i made you do the work?”

you rolled your eyes, knowing that it was ultimately useless to argue with the lee minho; he’d get what he wanted in the end. and frankly, you weren’t good at cooking. that’s why you two worked so well, he had his little hobby to destress and you were always fed. a win-win.

so, when you woke up in the middle of the night with a stomach ache, only sleeping a couple hours after that, he was quick to jump into the kitchen. he wanted to make you something his mom would make when he was sick as a kid—you found the gesture sickeningly sweet. he must really love you, you thought.

he’d gotten started in silence. usually he’d let you talk about everything and nothing at the same time, but he’d never pry if you didn’t feel like it. and, today must’ve been one of those days, as you just watched with closed lips.

he looked so beyond good when he cooked—arguably better than the food. and nothing was more attractive than his desire to take care of you. he didn’t even go back to sleep until he knew you were okay, trailing you into the bathroom and getting you medicine before you even asked. he made sure you were warm and properly cuddled under the blankets (in his arms), rubbing your back until peacefully off in dreamland.

honestly, you owe those couple of hours to him.

“hey, minho?” the silence was finally broken, your boyfriend stopping all his movements for a second and looking at you. his eyebrows rose in a non-verbal approval to go on and ask. “i know we’re already dating, but i have a big crush on you. i just thought you should know.”

he huffed out a laugh, “is that so?”

“yeah, in case you want to do anything with that knowledge.” you admitted innocently, “like marriage or something.”

“i plan on it, love.”

you made a face, something between disbelief, mock-disgust and blushing. “if you were over here i’d kiss you… thrice.”

he eyed you suspiciously, “you just didn’t want to say twice ‘cause then i’d start dancing to alcohol free.”

“maybe,” you joked, getting from your chair and making your way around the counter. he pretended to be offended, steadily chopping up the various vegetables again, and ignoring you. “you know i love your one-man show, baby.”

he smirked slightly—though you couldn’t see—but still was childishly giving you the silent treatment. you pleaded, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing his clothed spine once, before pressing your cheek to it. “there’s literally no one else i’d rather listen to sing red velvet while they shower.”

“i knew you listened, weirdo.” he chuckled, “if you wanted me to sing to you, i would, you don’t have to creep around.”

you lightly squeezed, “oh, shut up.”

and then suddenly he burst out into song, scaring you, but then sending you into a fit of giggles as the choreography soon followed; the knife safely out of his grip.

you watched in awe of his playfulness, disguised by straight lips and lidded eyes. you really couldn’t read a book by its cover, you thought, because this stupidly-handsome book always knew how to make you feel better.

please reblog and like <3 comments are appreciated ! thank you 4 reading © loserlvrss 2024 all rights reserved.��

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[slttygeto]

MORE THAN THAT— LO’AK SULLY.

pairing: x fem! reader.

tags: childhood friends to lovers, a little bit of angst towards the middle, insecure lo’ak, reader is mad at him, lack of communication because i love pain, they’re both 18 during the second half! a little suggestive towards the end, this is a long one btw :].

word count: 7k (my longest fic!!!)

note: ive been writing this for about a month (on and off obviously) and i thought i might share it now that i finally decided where to end it (?), it’s not entirely proof-read, my amazing best friend @aurelianamu (check her neteyam piece its amazing) read some of it and told me what to fix, so the rest will be corrected along the way. thank you for reading!

dividers by: @firefly-graphics

You are ten when you first meet the Sully’s, family of Toruk and Palulukan Makto.

Being the newest friend of Kiri, the second oldest didn’t hesitate to introduce you to her family, proud of the fact that she managed to make a friend so easily. You were shy, closed off and unsure of how to behave in the presence of the man that your parents told you many stories about. Your little child brain was curious to know as to how he behaved with his family, if he would be nice to you or strict and harsh, even if he had no reason to show anything besides kindness to his daughter’s newest friend.

“She is the same age as Lo’ak,” Kiri exclaimed with lots of excitement, holding your hand tightly while standing in front of her parents.

“Is that so?” Kiri’s mother, Neytiri, spoke with a gentle tone, smile adorning her lips which was unusual since she always seemed to be sporting a serious look on her face around The People.

“Who is the same age as me?” A voice spoke from behind you and suddenly, you were very aware of the fact that Kiri had more siblings than you—in fact, you had none. So you jumped slightly, a little surprised by the proximity of the boy.

“(Name), my friend!” Kiri’s excitement while introducing you warmed your heart but it also made you hyperaware of the looks you were receiving even if they weren’t malicious.

“Your friend?” Lo’ak stated in question, eyes scanning your face before puffing his chest out proudly like a peacock. “I bet being my friend would be more fun!”

Now, you weren’t expecting that. Kiri let go of your hand to push her brother back, almost telling him off at his attempt at stealing you away from her and you could only watch in horror as the bickering turned into hair pulling.

“Hi, I’m Neteyam.” Neteyam’s voice was soft and gentle, very similar to his mother’s and it made you relax for a moment before you realized you had to introduce yourself as well. Yet before you could speak, he was cutting you off with a nod. “(Name), I heard Kiri introduce you.”

You nodded back at him, eyes falling on the scene unraveling before you; Lo’ak and Kiri being scolded heavily by Toruk Makto himself, his eyes warning them that if they tried to say one more word, they would get grounded for a whole month.

“Ma Jake, be nice. We have a guest.” Neytiri tried to console.

“Exactly, so they should learn how to behave,” Jake Sully grabbed his kids and made them stand in front of you. “It’s up to her if she wants to befriend either of you, okay?”

“But dad! I found her first!” Kiri’s bottom lip quivered and you stepped towards her with a look of concern.

“Kiri, you’re my friend.” Lo’ak huffed at this, head dramatically turning to the side making his hair move with him. “Lo’ak can also be my friend.” Said boy’s ears perked up at this, face slowly turning to face you while scanning for any possible clues that you were just kidding.

Jake smiled at this, hand resting on top of your head before ruffling your hair. “Yeah? You wouldn’t mind befriending this knucklehead?”

“Knucklehead?” Your confusion only added to the fun of it and Jake chuckled before standing up straight.

“It means he needs someone to look out for him at all times.”

“Dad!” Lo’ak whined at the statement yet you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips.

“Friends look out for each other, right?” Your question earned a nod of approval from Toruk Makto and that was all you needed before stepping forward, firmly holding Lo’ak’s hand in your own.

“Lo’ak and I are friends then.” The youngest boy stared at you in awe, feeling the tips of his ears warm up at the sincerity of your voice.

“Friends.”

You are twelve when you learn what a pinky promise is.

You loved hanging out with Kiri, yet she and the rest of her family couldn’t deny the obvious chemistry between you and Lo’ak.

Despite the youngster’s stubborn personality and disobedient nature, he became more tolerable around you. That didn’t mean that he stopped from causing trouble, but he was seen around you sharing toys, passing you bits of food that was handed to him by his mother and even went as far as to to grab a giant leaf from a tree to cover you when you curled yourself into a ball to sleep.

The same could be said about you, yet your personality was never a problem in the first place. Kiri knew you as the kind hearted young na’vi that you presented yourself to be and you didn’t change around any of her family members. Although, she was able to notice the way you let things slide for the sake of being close to Lo’ak, such as letting him near your personal space, allowing him to touch your hair and look at the beads while proudly showing off your mother’s choice of colors and even letting him redo one of your braids as you two sat in silence.

Kiri wanted to feel jealous of this, she did befriend you first but she couldn’t help but let her heart feel at ease. Her brother and closest friend got along and it was worth more than anything in the world.

“Lo’ak, aren’t all sky people bad?” you were currently in the middle of your play session with the young na’vi, and the latter halted his actions at your words to stare at you with furrowed eyebrows. He noticed your stare, how it lingered on Spider, their human companion for as long as they could remember, before returning his eyes back on you.

“My dad was once a sky person, he isn’t bad at all.”

“Your dad is Toruk Makto!” you exclaimed almost in disbelief at the fact that Lo’ak was insinuating that you were even thinking of lumping his dad with those terrible people who had once destroyed your home.

“I’m just saying, if my dad is nice and he once was a sky person, then it means there’s a chance good sky people exist.” Lo’ak answered with a shrug. He trusted easily, that was something you envied him for. You couldn’t shake off the uneasy feeling whenever you stared at Spider and a part of you felt bad that your brain didn’t allow you to relax in the presence of a boy who had done nothing to you, his only crime was to belong to a race that caused you great pain and suffering.

“It could be true…” Your friend was able to sense your anxiety just by looking at your body shrink in its spot, your arms hugging your knees closer to your chest before resting your head there. He might’ve not been the softest out of his siblings, but he knew that you needed comforting ; any kind that is.

“Hey listen,” Lo’ak put his toy down next to you before leaning down to your level with his pinky finger up. “I promise that I won’t ever let sky people do anything to you, okay? Pinky promise.”

Despite the feeling of warmth that you felt at his words, the obvious confusion on your face was a telltale sign that you didn’t know what a pinky promise was.

“Pinky… promise?” your voice came out soft, hesitant as you mirrored lo’ak’s actions and the moment he hooked both of your pinkies together, you felt your heart strings tug in your chest.

“Yes. A promise that is never meant to be broken.”

At your silence, Lo’ak realized that you had been staring at his hand. Hard.

Upon figuring out what was so fascinating about his hand that it silenced you, he immediately tried to pull it back on his lap, regretting a little the fact that he got too comfortable showing you his hand, his filthy demon hand.

“No,” you started with a stern look, grabbing his hand to pull back next to your face and held his pinky finger up with much concentration on your face.

“I don’t judge, I like your hands,” you hooked your pinky finger once again with his and Lo’ak wasn’t able to shake off the funny feeling in his chest, how his heart leapt as he nervously gulped down the lump in his throat.

“Pinky promise?” His voice came out as a whisper, almost in disbelief that you were accepting of who he was and who he came from. he did believe that his father was the exception to use as an example to justify good sky people existing.

“Pinky promise.”

Fourteen and fifteen were an easy age, you got along most of the time and everyone was scared when the both of you teamed up against them. Yet sixteen and seventeen had proven to you that you were both strong minded and that made you butt heads often, only in harmless ways.

You two are eighteen you realize that the bickering and butting heads was just a love language of yours, that your disagreements would never take away from how much you cared for each other.

“You have got to be one knucklehead to do something like that!” You hiss at the boy who could only stare back at you with an equally murderous glare, clearly disliking the vocabulary you were using.

“I am no knucklehead if I just wanted to have fun.” He hissed in return, and it quickly turned into a groan when your hands tugged harshly at the bandage circling his arm, sending him a warning that you weren’t going to let it slide easily just because he was wounded.

“Fun on the war zone? I didn’t know that playing with your life is the newest form of entertainment.” His family watched in absolute entertainment as you two bickered back and forth. The argument kept shifting from humorous to serious and they didn’t know where to stand.

On the outside, it seemed as though you disliked one another, yet this was just another day for the Sullys where you and Lo’ak bickered so much, they had to get you two separated to make it stop.

“Shit- stop! that hurts!” he almost wailed, leaning back against the tree when you applied the ointment to the cut on his face and given the expression of disapproval you had on yours, Lo’ak could only mutter under his breath as he fixed his posture.

“Man, am I not allowed to complain now?”

“Lo’ak,” you started, and he could immediately sense your change in demeanor by how visibly deflated you looked.

“I’m okay,” He cut you off with a firm stare, but his hand held a warmth to it, a gentle reminder that he could never be mean to you for a long time as he rested his palm on top of your hand. “Really, it was just one reckless moment that is all.”

“You’ve been saying this for— Eywa knows how long, Lo’ak, it’s serious. You need to watch out.”

“You don’t trust me?” With his tone, you could tell he was genuinely curious to know what you felt about him as a warrior and his heart was ready to shatter into pieces, waiting for the usual answer that was chanted like a mantra by his father.

“I mean, I’m not as strong or as cool as big brother Neteyam, but I can be helpful on the field and–“

“Lo’ak, I trust you.” You were never one to lie, especially not when you let your eyes fall on his. Flashing him a small smile, your fingers applied the ointment on the rest of the cuts on his face in a much more delicate manner, taking in how his tail was swaying from side to side at your comment.

“Someone is a little happy,” you teased, hands gathering all the medical stuff that his grandmother had given you to put them back in their spot.

“I will push you off my Ikran next time we go on a ride.” the glare on his face was playful and you couldn’t help but pat his head affectionately.

“I can always call for my own Ikran you idiot.” He wasn’t even able to push you away when you leaned down with your pinky up to his face.

“Pinky promise, by the way,”

“Pinky promise?” You didn’t let him stay confused for long before grabbing his wrist to intertwine your pinky fingers together.

“That I trust you. With all of my heart.” and with that, you took off with your tail swaying softly from side to side.

Lo’ak observed you for some time after you left, ignoring how his face still stung a little from you tending to his small wounds. Sighing in exhaustion, he ignored the looks he was getting from Kiri who sat only a couple of steps away from him.

“Shut up.” He turned his head away when he saw his sister approach him with a teasing grin, ready to tell her off for the umpteenth time the same week for teasing him about the usual topic.

“I haven’t even said anything,” Kiri plopped herself next to her brother, immediately taking notice of how Lo’ak was able to see you every move from his spot.

“I know what you will say and you’re wrong.”

“So you’re just going to keep denying the obvious heart eyes you have for my best friend?” The girl na’vi raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“I don’t have heart eyes for my best friend too, if you haven’t forgotten yet, I would never do anything to ruin the friendship.” To say that Lo’ak was an idiot was an understatement.

Kiri had told him that a crush would never ruin the friendship but Lo’ak saw it differently. You were a comfort he never thought he could have in a person beside family, a safe space for him to runaway to whenever things got too stressful with his father, Jake, and most importantly you were a best friend, a ride or die and someone who cared about him too much for him to risk watching everything fall apart.

His heart squeezed at the white lie he told his sister, another moment of denial where he forcefully swallowed down any possible trace of romantic feelings for his best friend and Kiri sighed in defeat, having already given up on the topic for the day.

“If you say so, don’t be disappointed if she finds someone else.” She stood up from her spot on the tree, looking down at her brother who visibly flinched at the mention of you possibly finding a mate, a lifelong partner and someone who would proudly show you off before Eywa.

“I would be happy for her,” Lo’ak almost bit his tongue at his attempt to fool his own heart, to halt it from hammering so strongly against his chest and stop himself from feeling so upset at the thought.

“Brother, you’re a fool.” Was all what Kiri said before walking away towards you and starting a casual conversation as usual, asking you if you wanted to go on a ride on your Ikrans after making sure every warrior was safe and taken care of.

And Lo’ak could only watch with a tight jaw, flexing his hand in an attempt to stop himself from possibly punching himself in the face.

Maybe Jake was right, he was a disappointment. Someone who isn’t even able to maintain a proper friendship without falling hard for his best friend, and the uncertainty of keeping things strictly platonic with you was eating him up alive. He hoped that Eywa would make his worries go away, and perhaps find a solution to the mess he had created inside his head.

Eywa didn’t take long before answering his prayers, but it came with a cost.

Longing stares and hours of talking to one another way past curfew after sneaking out turned into cold shoulders and short conversations. The effort was barely there and you could tell Lo’ak didn’t even want to acknowledge your existence whenever you came around and it hurt, it pained you that you didn’t even know what you had done wrong to suddenly lose a person whom you held so dear to your heart.

Your lip quivered as you stared at the plate of fruits you had freshly cut up for Lo’ak, tears threatening to spill from your eyes when you remember how he harshly rejected your offer at spending time together.

“I have a meeting with my father. Later.”

“But Lo’ak we haven’t–“

“Don’t be so clingy, I said later. Go find someone else to eat the fruits with.”

Clingy? Someone else?

You didn’t want to eat them with anyone beside him. Having him call you clingy when he used to get excited to spend time with you, saved you the last bits of his food and would talk your ear off about his schedule, it was all confusing. You didn’t know what you had done wrong and if you were even able to fix it given how it was painfully obvious that you were the source of the miscommunication going on.

It felt like Eywa wasn’t on your side the past few weeks, and your heart squeezed in disappointment at how your strong faith was being questioned by such tough times. You never doubted your deity, believed that everything happens for a reason but what could possibly come out of being so abruptly separated from Lo’ak?

You headed back to your hammock and set the plate aside to grab your pen and paper. When everything felt like it was falling apart, writing seemed to be the safest option. You found comfort in spilling your worries to a sheet of paper and weren’t ashamed of it, in fact, you were praised greatly for it by Kiri who had told you that her mother would’ve definitely developed an interest to you and your ways of distressing.

Oh Eywa has it been difficult to breathe as of late. Lo’ak hates me, that I am sure of. I have been nothing but a good friend to him and I’m confused and heartbroken, I don’t know what to do Eywa and I want to talk to him, to ask him what caused to hate me so strongly. Maybe it’s my strong love for him? Have I pushed it too far?

To be truthful, you had been in a state of denial for quite some time now. You were a friend to Lo’ak, a companion and a person who was always by his side but your heart craved more.

It was the way your heart leapt whenever Lo’ak came around, throbbing when he sat next to you, leaving no space between the both of you. How your body tensed when he would place his hands on your shoulders and he would stare at you with concerned eyes, wondering if he had smacked your skin a bit too hard.

But you knew it was wrong. It was unacceptable for you to feel this way for your best friend, even more horrible to crave him in ways only two people who are mated want one another.

You felt rustling behind you and jumped at the noise, head whipping back with fearful eyes only to relax once you realized that it was just Neteyam.

You had grown to enjoy the boy’s company over the years and he was nothing but nice to you. The two of you had short yet sweet conversations and you could tell that Neteyam saw you as a sister, someone who belonged in the family more than anyone else.

“Thought you had a meeting with Mr. Sully?” your voice was small as you scribbled on your paper, lips pressed in a thin line and posture slouched as you leaned against the tree.

“Fix your posture, you’ll feel like you’re eighty when you’re twenty.” Neteyam tried to brighten up the mood, only to realize that it poor timing since you only flashed him a weak smile before giving a half assed attempt at sitting up properly.

“So no meeting, he just didn’t want to see me?” The boy flinched at your words and he wished you didn’t notice, but you were smart and you had a sharp eye. Things like body language and little white lies didn’t go unnoticed by you and yet Neteyam was confused on how you weren’t able to see through Lo’ak’s poor attempt at pushing you away because of how much he wanted you.

“He’s an idiot, but I promise you that–“

“Don’t…Don’t promise me something that might not happen,” you cut him off with a sharp intake of breath, your chest tightening and tears threatening to spill at any moment. You were growing tired of everyone reassuring you with words, only for Lo’ak to shatter any hope you’ve had that you two would make up from the nonexistent fight that you had.

“He thinks what he’s doing is the right thing, but it isn’t,” The eldest of the Sullys took it upon himself to wipe your tears away, thumbs caressing your cheeks in a delicate manner. “He is an idiot, but I want you to know that it’s paining him just as much,“

You scoffed at the words but never pulled away from the boy’s touch. “It pains him just as much? He’s the one who started it.”

“I know but–“

“Teyam,” your hand wraps around his wrist, and you gently pull it away from your face before holding his hand in your own. “It’s alright, I know you want to defend your brother and you have every right to do so but he hurt me, he’s causing me so much pain from a situation he created,”

“I’m not asking you to pick sides, but I’m also not going to let my pain get invalidated. I’m the one hurting here because he woke up on the wrong side of his hammock three weeks ago and decided not to utter a single word my way ever since.”

Neteyam could only sigh at your words. You were right, the situation was much more complicated than a simple disagreement between you two. Had you known the full story behind what was going on inside Lo’ak’s brain, maybe then it would feel fair to tell you that the boy was also in pain.

“Just do what feels less painful to you.” As if that was going to be easy, but the more you interacted with Lo’ak, the tighter your chest felt. You needed a break from the boy even if you knew that seeing him was enough to reassure you that he was doing okay.

This was the longest Lo’ak had ever sulked in a corner and everyone was starting to grow tired of it.

The boy was almost lifeless, barely engaging in any conversation with his family members. He ignored Tuk’s nagging and consistent request to play with her, brushed off Neteyam’s suggestion to go on a ride with their Ikrans and wouldn’t even talk back to Kiri and Spider.

He was unrecognizable to say the least.

Neytiri nudged her husband with a concerned look on her face, eyes silently begging him to do something about the boy who went from being the loudest to the most reserved.

Jake could only awkwardly shuffle in his spot before coughing to catch his children’s attention. Talking to his sons wasn’t his virtue, it felt easier to console his little girls but given how strange Lo’ak had been acting, it was finally time to have a heart to heart with his son.

“Son, let’s ride our Ikrans after dinner.”

Lo’ak didn’t even raise his head at the sentence, simply thinking that Jake wasn’t referring to him. It wasn’t until the silence had felt too long that Jake called again, this time making sure that he heard him.

“Son? Lo’ak?” said boy raised his head with a perplexed look, and Jake noticed how his food was basically untouched.

“Yes sir?”

“We’re riding our Ikrans after dinner.” Jake repeated, setting his plate to the side before nodding at Neytiri as a way of thanking her for the food.

“We?” the boy looked at his brother, unsure if he was hearing his father correctly.

“You and I, son.” Lo’ak grew nervous at this. He and his father weren’t on best terms most of the time given how their personalities clashed with one another, but he thought that giving it a try wouldn’t hurt anybody.

“Okay dad.”

After a poor attempt at finishing his food, Lo’ak finally decided to join his dad after hopping on his Ikran. He wasn’t entirely sure of what his father wanted to talk about but he hoped that it wouldn’t cause the two of them to start fighting as usual.

“You closed off on yourself,” Jake didn’t bother with trying to ease Lo’ak into the topic, he immediately pushed him inside. He could tell he caught his son off guard given the wide eyes and how his lips struggled to find the right words to say.

“And you’re not only hurting yourself but you’re also hurting people around you,” Jake wanted to see how far he could push his son before making him admit his obvious feelings for you, the one girl he and Neytiri were very sure that she was going to be their son’s future mate.

“I don’t have that many friends,” Lo’ak’s sarcasm could be sensed from miles away and Jake held back a sigh at how similar he and his son were. He hated that sometimes. seeing in his son a version of himself he was ready to bury.

“I’m glad that you’re acknowledging that (name) isn’t just a friend.” The eldest pushed his son a little further and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips at how nervous and awkward his son got.

“She is just a friend…”

“We’re definitely different when it comes to this,” Lo’ak raised his head at his father’s words, unsure of where he was going with this.

“I married your mom not long after I met her, didn’t have time for all this being in denial bullshit,”

“Mom wasn’t a childhood friend.”

“Yet I think if she was a childhood friend, it would’ve made me want to marry her even more.”

The beauty of growing up together, getting to tell the next generation that you’ve known who your soulmate was at a very young age is a privilege not a lot of people have, not when most Na’vi have their mates chosen for them. And Lo’ak was very much aware of that and yet he couldn’t help but think that no one would choose him, not when he was so… like himself.

“I just think…she can do better,” Sharing his biggest insecurity was challenging enough as it was, but doing so with his father felt rough on his heart strings. Lo’ak’s throat tightened up and suddenly he became hyperaware of his fast heartbeat and sweaty palms, wishing that he had chosen something else to say to save him from the discomfort he was feeling.

“Is that truly up to you to decide?” The boy blinked once then twice, trying to register the fact that pouring his heart out was easier than he anticipated. He couldn’t bring himself to formulate a sentence for a good ten seconds before he was looking away from Jake, the latter’s words finally getting to his head.

“Does it even matter if I let her decide?”

“Would you have wanted her to let you feel the same if roles were reversed?”

“Roles could never be reversed cause she isn’t a freak like me,” Lo’ak almost snapped back in response and he visibly tensed at how defensive he was getting.

“So you think she deserves better than some five fingered freak like yourself?” Jake was blunt as he responded, eyes boring into his son’s who could only nod in response, not catching onto the sarcasm lacing in his words.

“Seems like you don’t know her as well as you claim to do.” Jake dipped down with his Ikran and Lo’ak followed shortly after with his own companion, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the words coming out of his father’s mouth.

“Of course I do know her, she’s my best friend and I’m sure that she—“

“The reason why you like her so much is because she never cared about stuff like this. It’s been this way ever since you were a child, son.” Toruk Makto was now face to face with his son as their Ikrans came to a stop mid air. “For you to make her go through so much pain because you suddenly decided that she wanted to change her ways and morals is unfair in my opinion, both for her and yourself.”

“But to ruin the friendship—“

“Again, those are only assumptions you have made based off of pretty weak evidence—made up one since you didn’t even question her on whom has her attention or better yet, her heart.”

The picture was slowly coming together to Lo’ak now and the clearer it got, the more he realized just how badly he fucked up.

Three agonizing weeks of ignoring you, stopping himself from joining a conversation you were in and suspending any attempt you had thrown his way to hang out together, catch up and possibly ask him what was so wrong that he refused to talk to you.

Sure, it pained him so much but he knew how sensitive you were. In fact, he could tell from your big yellow eyes how deeply hurt you were everytime he rejected you, and Eywa, did it make his heart squeeze, almost shatter at the sight of tears brimming your vision.

Lo’ak knew he fucked up, and he could only pray to Eywa that he would be able to fix what could possibly cost him a friendship and perhaps his childhood sweetheart.

You had every right to be ignoring Lo’ak right now. That, he is totally aware of, and even knew that it was exactly what he deserved after ghosting you for no apparent reason.

But at this point, you were just torturing him.

Tonight, the Omaticaya decided that it was time to hold their weekly party at the end of the week, distressing and letting loose after a long week of hard work.

Those parties were fun, they were what everyone needed—what you needed most importantly and you weren’t going to deny it, you were looking forward to it even if it meant having to encounter Lo’ak since he was Toruk Makto’s son.

Things had started pretty well with everyone chatting and discussing thing such as how great of a leader Toruk Makto was, how they haven’t felt this safe in quite some time and that everything being under his control was something to be proud of as forest Na’vi.

And while Jake and Neytiri soaked in all the attention, the kids were doing their thing. Mostly chatting with their friends or in some cases, stalking some.

Lo’ak was aware of how creepy he looked just staring at you with an unwavering gaze but he was determined to have you lock eyes with him. If he wasn’t going to approach you, getting to see your eyes for the first time in a while would mean the world to him.

“You’re looking a bit menacing, brother.” Neteyam placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder, staring in your direction as well with a small smile on his lips.

“Huh? Well, I guess it’s not menacing enough to have her look my way.” Lo’ak mumbled under his breath, earning a lighthearted chuckle from Neteyam who could only pat his shoulder before squeezing it.

“You don’t want to look menacing or creepy, you want to look apologetic.” Lo’ak glanced at Neteyam after hearing those words and he knew how right his brother was but how? how was he supposed to look more apologetic than he already feels?

“Just walk up to her and see what happens.” Yeah, easier said than done.

“I will tell you what will happen. I will go up there and make a fool of myself because one, I don’t really know what to tell her and two, she will ignore me either way and I absolutely deserve it after treating her like shit because of something she’s not even responsible of,”

Lo’ak was frustrated but he couldn’t exactly do anything about it or even let himself feel this frustration without guilt washing over him.

It must’ve been horrible for you. But enough of feeling bad for you, he knew that despite what could possibly happen, he still had to confront you one way or another.

“Good luck,” was all what Neteyam said before walking away to let his younger brother decide on what he was going to do.

Luck

“Shit, I’ll need plenty of that.” Lo’ak mumbled before heading towards you through the crowd.

You could see Lo’ak and Neteyam from the corner of your eyes, you weren’t blind or clueless. You knew the two were talking about you just based on their body language. How unsure Lo’ak seemed and how playful the older brother was being and despite the fact that you thought it was endearing, you were still very mad at Lo’ak, and rightfully so.

It took them a couple of minutes to finish their conversation before Lo’ak was walking towards you and in a state of panic, you let go of whatever was in your hand and started heading out of the crowd, to a more secluded area. Anything to get away from Lo’ak as soon as possible.

You didn’t dare to look back, footsteps fast and unfaltering as you walked deeper into the forest with Lo’ak right behind you. Maybe if you didn’t perceive him, he would magically disappear.

“If anything, you know I’m the fastest runner between you and I,” his voice was uncertain, as if he was testing waters while still half-chasing you and you completely ignored his words, very determined on getting him to get off your tail.

“Going deeper into the woods won’t make me lose sight of you,”

“Did your tail get prettier?” was he staring at your tail?

Lo’ak was taken aback when you abruptly came to a stop and whipped your head fast to look at him and he wishes he could take back every bad thing he’s done to you, he wishes he could undo the past few weeks but he can’t, and he certainly can’t erase the pain in your eyes, how utterly confused and broken you must be feeling now that he’s suddenly trying to talk to you again.

“Listen-“

“No, no- you will listen. Because clearly that’s not what you wanted to do for like a month.” Your index finger was almost in his face but he didn’t back away or flinch, he let you be as mad as you wanted to be.

“I didn’t do anything to deserve what you did to me. I was a good friend! I was patient and forgiving, I kept finding stupid excuses for your lame ass while you didn’t even try to hide the fact that you were openly ignoring me for whatever reason!”

Lo’ak could tell you weren’t breathing properly while talking, and he wanted to hold your face and get you to calm down but touching you seemed off the table right now.

“And you come back and tell me my tail looks prettier?”

“I was just-“

“I’m still talking.” Your stern voice made him seal his lips shut, but he couldn’t help how his heart leapt a little in his chest. He had to fight the smile that was forming on his lips because he really didn’t want you to think he wasn’t taking you seriously.

“I appreciate you telling me my tail looks prettier but that does not and will never compensate for how shitty you made me feel lately.” Your voice was less harsh and smaller. He could tell you were slowly letting the tough façade fall apart because you weren’t used to getting hurt this badly. It drained you so much having him hurt you like this, and it made Lo’ak drown deeper in the guilt.

“I know it won’t, but I promise it hurt me just as much.”

“Then why did you do it?” Eywa, he wishes he could tell you.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Then we cant be friends again.” Your response was quick and dry. Lo’ak felt like he was quickly losing you the more he spoke and that absolutely terrified him.

“No, you don’t get it. If I tell you, I will lose you.”

“Is there anything to lose at this point?” Lo’ak was starting to realize how badly he fucked up the moment you said this.

“Wha- of course there is?” He furrowed his eyebrows as he stared down at you and for the first time, you weren’t glaring at him. Your eyes were slowly filling up with tears, breathing getting quicker by the second.

Lo’ak reached his hands towards your face to test the waters and when you didn’t flinch or pull away, just kept your eyes locked with his, he knew just how badly you needed to be held.

“Oh I’m so terrible, aren’t I?” He almost cooed at you, hands holding your face with his thumbs caressing your cheeks and your little nod before blinking some tears away.

“So… so terrible.” you nuzzled against his hand, a hiccup escaping your lips as you held back a sob.

“Eywa,” Lo’ak whispered, stepping a little closer to you so he could rest his forehead against yours. “You mean so much to me and it’s… terrifying.”

Your confusion only pushed him to continue, his nose brushing against yours and suddenly you were aware of how close—how intimate the position you were in. But you didn’t mind, your heart was racing yet you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away this time.

“If I mean so much to you, why hurt me?” your voice was small, almost too afraid to speak louder and ruin the moment.

“I thought hurting you would get you to hate me,” Lo’ak swallowed hard, eyes focused on your lips before staring right back at yours once again. “and you would realize that you deserve someone better than me.”

“And you think you have the right to choose for me?” your hands slowly moved up towards his shoulders and at first, he thought you were going to push him away. It wasn’t until he felt you press your body closer before wrapping your arms around his neck that he realized that you were doing the complete opposite.

“I chose you—Eywa chose you for me, and she is never wrong.” And you were right. As if your skin glowing in the dark wasn’t already beautiful, the forest decided to bless your moment even further.

Seeds of the sacred tree were floating all around you both, the pure spirits giving Lo’ak the reassurance and the tiny push he needed to finally close the distance between you two.

Your breath hitched when you felt his lips brush against yours, but you were growing impatient with the small amount of hesitance left in him.

“Promise me that you won’t hurt me again,” your words were hushed, breath quickening when you felt him pull you in closer by your hips.

“I promise.” the stars illuminated the sky and the night was threatening to get colder. But when Lo’ak was pulling you impossibly closer, your cheeks flushed with heat. His fingers traced the skin on your hipbone before digging in harshly, your sharp intake of breath making his eyes wander down to your lips once again.

“It’s unfair…“ your whisper caught him off guard and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion before they rose high when your hands slid down to caress his arms, gently moving towards his chest to rest your hands there. You looked up at him through your lashes, and if Lo’ak wasn’t aware of his feelings for you, he would think you were trying to make him fall deeper in love with every bit of you.

“What is unfair?”

“That you’re taking so long to kiss me,” your hands gently grabbed his face, holding his jaw to tilt his head down towards you. “I see you, Lo’ak.”

You didn’t need for him to say it in return—he wasn’t exactly able to with his lips pressed against yours in dizzying manner. You never thought you could grow more nervous around Lo’ak yet he seemed to have a knack for surprising you everytime, especially with his hands gripping the back of your thighs to pull you up and wrap your legs around his waist.

“I see—I see you too,” when he pulled away, panting from the kiss and eyes glazed with what appeared to be a mixture of lust and admiration, you could only squeeze your legs around his waist with a small smile.

“Already so out of breath?” your lips brushed against his nose in an endearing manner, fingers tracing his cheek to take in every little detail that made him who he is—yours.

“You dont know what you do to me,” he slowly backed you up against a tree, your cheeks flushing when you realized just how intimate the position you were in.

“Maybe I would like to find out,” Your teasing, your playful tone and your eyes that were clearly so lost in his, were constant reminders of how special he felt around you.

He, who had the honor of being your one and only, could only pray that Eywa approved of his love and devotion for you.

2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

[amirasainz]

can you do more of baby!sainz crushing on lando and lando really likes it and flirt with her any time ++ carlos’s reaction

Of coure I can. This is a Part 2 story, so I would recommend reading the first part. My stories are usually seperate stories, however it was quiet fitting in this case. Btw, Carlos ec gf is mentioned, Isa I love writing requests for you guys and hope you enjoy reading my work. Let me know if you have any whishes! -XoXo

Three times when....Part 2

4. The Quadrant video

Ah, the delicate dance of family dynamics and romantic getaways—the kind that unfolds against the backdrop of sun-kissed beaches and whispered secrets. Carlos Sainz, the Ferrari sensation, had planned a romantic vacation with his girlfriend, seeking moments of stolen kisses and moonlit walks. And what better place than Bali to weave their love story?

But life, ever the mischievous storyteller, had other plans. A new Quadrant video emerged, casting its spotlight on the youngest Sainz sister. There stood Amira, flanked by Lando’s friends, Max and Keegan, her eyes fixed on Lando as he explained the rules of their karting challenge. Karting—a miniature ballet of speed and precision—would be their canvas.

Lando, the showman, draped his arm over Amira’s shoulder. His friend Keegan would take the wheel, aiming to beat Lando’s time. But first, Lando had to set the benchmark. As he zipped around the track, Amira’s gaze never wavered. Her words flowed like a river of admiration: “He is an amazing driver. It won’t take long before he takes his first win. Look how easy he makes it look.” Her grin was infectious, like a sunbeam breaking through the clouds.

And then, in a hushed whisper, she added, “Como un profesional.” Keegan and Max exchanged puzzled glances, their linguistic compass spinning in confusion. But Amira knew. She’d witnessed her friends’s journey—the sweat, the sacrifice, the hunger for victory. In that quiet moment, she held a secret: Lando Norris, the boy who’d captured her heart, was destined for greatness.

When Lando finally finished his run, he sprinted toward her. “And, what do you think, darling?" he teased. “Maybe I’ll be able to take you on a ride one day.” His flirtatious tone hung in the air, and apparently, it was working—because Amira was giggling.

Throughout the video, Lando would sweetly explain things to her while she had her whole attention on him. At the end, Max had to do the outro, because Lando was sitting in a kart with Amira on his lap. He clearly showed her things on the wheel, so he moved her hair aside and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"What the fuck did I just watch" thought Carlos to himself

5. The Spa crash

Carlos Sainz found himself in the midst of an interview when his eyes caught sight of his friend sliding across the treacherous Spa track. The Belgian circuit had claimed its share of lives over the years, and the rain only intensified its danger.

In that heart-stopping moment, Carlos’s mind painted worst-case scenarios. But then, relief flooded through him as Lando Norris responded to Sebastian Vettel’s thumbs-up signal and was soon escorted back to the safety of the team garages. Carlos wasted no time, ending the interview abruptly to ensure Lando’s well-being.

Yet, what awaited him upon his arrival was unexpected—a scene that tugged at his heartstrings. Lando stood in the rain, his little sister, Amira, by his side. Tears streamed down her face, and Carlos heard Lando’s soothing words: “I’m fine, darling. Nothing happened. It was just a little jump-scare. I promise, I’ll always come back to you.”

But Amira’s worry persisted. “How can you be so sure about that, Lando? What if—” she began, her voice trembling. Lando cut her off, determination in his eyes. “Hey, none of that, okay? It will take a thousand armies to keep me away from you, okay?” He waited for her nod, their bond unbreakable.

Carlos watched the scene unfold, touched by the depth of their friendship. He approached them, pulling them into a group hug, seeking solace in their shared connection. Together, they retreated into the warmth of the Ferrari garage, a sanctuary against the rain-soaked night.

Later, as Carlos settled into bed with his girlfriend, Isa, he recounted the events. “I didn’t know the two of them were such good friends,”he mused. Isa sighed, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. “You truly know nothing, Carlos Sainz.”

6. DJ Lando

Ah, the nightlife—the pulsing heartbeat of music, neon lights, and secrets whispered in the dark. Lando Norris, the McLaren sensation, was no stranger to the DJ booth, spinning beats that made the crowd sway and lose themselves. Clubs welcomed him like an old friend, and this weekend was no exception.

But amidst the thumping bass and swirling lights, something shifted. A new presence graced the scene: Amira, Carlos little sister. Her usual decline to join club outings had become a predictable pattern, making Carlos’s job as the protective older brother straightforward. Yet this time, she stood there, defying expectations.

And what a sight she was—dressed in a short dress, high heels elongating her legs. Lando kept her close, his arm around her waist or fingers tucked under her hairtie. Carlos’s attention zeroed in on them—the way Lando leaned in, whispering things in Amira’s ear. Her cheeks flushed crimson, embarrassment or amusement dancing across her face. What secrets did they share? Carlos couldn’t fathom, and it gnawed at him.

Lando’s proximity to his sister grated on Carlos’s nerves. Why was he so close? What did he want from Amira? The frustration simmered, and Carlos’s annoyance grew. Why hadn’t anyone clued him in? The club’s rhythm pulsed around them, but Carlos’s mind spun with questions. Perhaps it was time to confront Lando, to unravel the mystery that danced between them.

[iid-smile]

waterfall , tomioka giyuu

x gn!reader ! giyuu using his water breathing, he asks for permission to confess and impress you!

author's note: im having writers block with kny specifically (future sunny: thats a bad excuse btw... i just dont because idk what to write for majority of the characters) so literally everything these days is jjk. justice for kny!!!!

double author's note: hi... future sunny here. this message ^^ yeah, that was FOUR WEEKS AGO now its just laziness rather than writers block... thats why the dialogue has literally no description half the time and i really did not want to finish this

triple author's note: ahaha i bet you've never seen three in a row 😈 anyways i forgot to post this after i proofread it half asleep so here u go

"do you like rivers?"

"mhm."

"what about lakes?"

"i like anything to do with water, tomioka. you don't need to worry so much about what i like."

"i'm not worried." giyuu's gaze turns away from you, like it always does, and he looks straight ahead. "there's just something i want to try."

though slightly wary of his intentions, you know that giyuu isn't the type of guy to put you in situations where he doesn't have your consent first. and quite clearly, it's something to do with water, because he's been awfully chatty about different bodies of water, fishes, and just nature in general. it's difficult to make a guess of what he's planning, because sometimes he can just be so unintentionally unpredictable. and weird. he's a weirdo.

you walk behind him so he's able to lead the way. now that he's gone all quiet again, you can't help but furrow your eyebrows a bit. something he wanted to try? what could he possibly want to try in the middle of the night? let alone in a forest...

finally, he comes to a halt. obviously, you're a bit... confused, being stopped in front of a large, and deep body of water surrounded by rocks.

"hold my hand."

"why?"

as if he knew you were going to ask that, he turns to face you with not a single change in his expression, neatly holding out his hand to you. "i'm going to do something, and i don't want you to slip." something. there's that something again.

your eyes flicker from his hand to his face just a few times, then to the surroundings, looking out for anything odd. he wouldn't be the type to prank you, would he?

"do you not trust me?"

"i do. it's just this something that you mention..."

"don't worry. i won't do anything bad."

would it be bad to say that he immediately soothed your worries? he was already speaking more than he usually would, and you noticed his free hand was always on the handle of his sword, so he's vigilant. no worries at all. you take his hand. it's cold, and unexpectedly smooth. "what are you going to do?"

no answer. he takes a step closer to the edge, just one little tip toe away from the surface of the water. "by any chance.." giyuu remains quiet, head bowed to the water below before his eyes move back up to yours. "do you have a significant other?"

"no..."

"then," for a beat, he looks off to the side, and then turns his head back to you. "can i ask for your permission for me to... attempt to court you?"

"ah, is this why you brought me all the way out here? you have feelings for me?"

"...you found me out."

"you just told me that?"

"i didn't mean to."

the back of your hand comes up to your lips, poorly silencing your giggles. "you're a bit silly sometimes."

no response. "come."

giyuu takes a step down from the rocks, and into the body of water. from above, it was difficult to tell how far down the bottom of the lake was. "my clothes—"

he cuts you off. "don't worry. they won't get wet."

maybe he's telling the truth, since his aren't either. one last time, you look down at your covered feet, a nervous twitch running through them as the chill breeze suddenly became so apparent.

immediately, you're met with dreamlike arches of water and splashes surrounding the two of you, frozen in time and unmoving. for the first time, it feels like you're genuinely seeing his breathing technique visually, the sight similar to a vivid lucid dream. except this... this is way better. right in the climax, streams shoot up into the air, curving and twisting to form a heart in the center, then dispersing just as quick, the drops of rain disappearing into nothing as it touches skin.

it was beautiful, but beautiful wasn't even a word good enough to describe it.

"tomioka—?" but as you turn around, giyuu is nowhere to be seen. "huh? tomioka?"

you look left, and you look right. nobody's around: not a single life in sight. the trees are quiet, only the splashing of the waterfall fills in for the lack of noise around. and when you look down at your feet, you only see your legs submerged in water, all the way up to your knees. your haori steadily soaked up the liquid, the material darkening and growing heavier on your shoulders. "my socks!"

yes, you did have to walk home with wet tabi socks and zori with an uncomfortably damp surface. and yes, you did walk home with a constant flutter in your heart, not even knowing when the next time you'll catch a glimpse of him will be.

[stevie-petey]

heyy i know you prob need to write chap 3 (btw cjapter 2 wa sso well written as usual), can i req a blurb? maybe one where he cheers bug up after a bad day or some fluff of steve, bug n robin

since chap 4 was so ,,,, dark, heres some fluffy steve rob n bug <333

enjoy !

"im legally owed time with y/n."

"jesus!" steve nearly drops the stack of movies hes precariously balancing in his arms. he didnt hear robin come in, she isn't even supposed to be working today.

robin slides on top of the counter and stacks yet another movie onto steves already too large pile. "hey, did you hear me?"

"why are you here right now?"

"because im legally owed time with y/n."

"what does that even mean?"

"that im legally owed time with y/n."

steve nearly throws the movies hes holding in robins face. shes been here for not even a minute and he already wants to strangle her. he loves the girl, shes his best friend, but steve forgets how infuriating robin can be when she wants something.

angrily setting down the stack, steve pinches the bridge of his nose and faces robin. "alright, what the hell are you talking about?"

she stares at him. "i am owed. time with. y/n... legally."

"robin, i swear to god-"

"why are we swearing at robin?" you appear from the breakroom, carrying a few rentals in your arms. stopping next to steve, you hand them to him with a smile. "i found the rest of keiths stash. he has a very weird obsession with molly ringwald."

"y/n!" robin throws her arms over you and hugs you fiercely.

you squeak in alarm, though you allow your body to rest against hers. while youre always happy to see her, youre confused by robins sudden affection. "um. hi?"

"im legally owed time with you."

steve covers his hand with his hands and groans obnoxiously loud, but you simply laugh and nod eagerly at robin. "oh, i absolutely agree."

"you actually understand what shes saying?" steve looks at you incredulously. he cant believe it. youre actually going along with robins weird new scheme.

you roll your eyes at your boyfriend. "i mean, isnt it obvious?"

"yeah, harrington. its pretty clear, like crystal." robin butts in, shoving her hip against steves, effectively pushing him away from you so that shes the one now next to you.

"robin is legally owed time with me, so of course i have to abide by the law." you shiver slightly. "crime scares me."

it sickens steve how in love he is with you sometimes, and it sickens him even more that he finds you painfully adorable in this very moment. shuddering at the idea of crime, abiding by robins made up laws in a way that makes his heart twist.

"i'll be sure to never let you anywhere near crime then, angel." steve laughs fondly, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

robin gags and you giggle. "thanks, honey. does that mean youll let me go spend some legally obligated time with robin today?"

"but-"

"you hog her all the time!" robin steps between you again and she glares at steve. "i mean, i get it. youre in love and whatever, but y/n is my girlfriend, too."

you blink. "i am?"

not that youre upset about it, but it wouldve been nice to know sooner.

"i had her first!" steve scoffs. "and i dont hog her, i simply am always with her. theres a difference."

robin flicks him. "is the difference the chemicals imbalance in your brain from all that stupid hairspray?"

"okay, i do not use that much hairspray-"

"what happened to not letting me anywhere near crime?" you poke steves chest, pouting slightly. admittedly, you have been slightly distant from robin lately. not that its anyones fault, shes just been busy with band and you with the party and college applications. still, you know she misses you, and you miss her. "im sure you can survive one day without me, steve."

"no i cant."

robin gags again. "youre pathetic."

"youre the one who insisting youre legally owed time with y/n!"

"because i am!"

"hey!" you clap your hands, the sound loud enough to break up whatever quarrel is happening between steve and robin. "im right here, you know."

robin grabs your hand and pulls you away from steve. "and now youre leaving with me."

"oh, alright." you dont do much to fight her, allowing her to drag you towards family videos front door. "i was going to go willingly, but this works too."

"y/n!" steve shouts halfheartedly. he knows hes lost, but he doesnt mind. secretly, he loves how close you and robin are. he also recognizes how little time youve spent together, and he cant help but feel a little guilty about it.

you wave briskly at him, giggling under your breath. "call me tonight?"

"always."

"i love you!"

steve laughs. "i love you, too." then, just before the door closes and you and robin disappear, he calls out, "bring our girlfriend back in one piece, buckley!"

"make me!"

and with that, the door swings shut and the sound of your laughter lingers in the store.

steve smiles softly, the warmth of your presence enough to ignite his chest. he'll miss you today, but he knows that tonight itll just be you and him. no one else.

and thats enough for steve.

until he turns around and remembers the giant fucking pile of movies he still has to restack.

"fuck my life."

[astrophileous]

Derek getting jealous over Bug’s pregnancy pillow 🤭🤭🤭 he just doesn’t understand how it can be that much more comfortable than he would be. If Bug makes him snuggle with it post-pregnancy when she needs to sneak out from his arms during the night to check on the baby too? He wakes up like “????”

Nooo but can you imagine how EXASPERATED he is when Bug pulls out the pillow again when she's pregnant with their daughter/Baby Bug???? 😭😭😭

Btw so sorry for the delay, I was stressing FOR DAYS bcs my brain refused to cooperate and write (I think it's back to normal now so YAY)

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

"Not this montrosity again."

Derek nearly whined at the sight of your pregnancy pillow; the one you had stored safely after the birth of your son, and the same one you had pulled out of its resting place now that you were in your second trimester with your daughter. It was a gift from a friend, and Derek was never a fan of it since the first time the pillow found its way into your shared bed.

"Don't say that." You put your palms on either side of the pillow, acting as if you were cupping its ears. "He might hear you."

"Great. So it's a he?!"

"Derek Morgan, you're not seriously jealous over a freaking pillow?"

"I have the right to be when you constantly choose to cuddle with it." You suppressed a giggle when you saw the daggers Derek was shooting its way. "I don't understand why you need the pillow when you have me."

"Because, as much as I love and adore your hard panes and muscles, I need something fluffy to get me sleeping comfortably through the night."

Derek scoffed loudly.

Who would've thought Derek would ever live to see the day he found himself mourning over the fact that he was fucking ripped?

Every night before the two of you went to bed, Derek never failed in throwing the dirtiest, nastiest look in the direction of said pregnancy pillow as if the inanimate object was singlehandedly responsible for ruining his entire life. Derek couldn't be more happy to get rid of it the moment you came home from the hospital with your daughter in your arms. Unfortunately, the man soon realized that getting rid of the offensive item might be a more challenging task than he had ever anticipated in the first place.

"Bug?" Derek mumbled blearily one night as he rose from the light sleep he had accidentally fallen under.

The last thing he remembered was lying in bed with you in his arms. Something about the lull of your voice and the familiar scent of your body wash had managed to make him drift into an unexpected slumber. Derek was putty whenever you were next to him, and he was perpetually alright with that knowledge if it meant he got to keep you constantly by his side.

The bedroom was enveloped in darkness as he stirred, squeezing your flesh wherever his arm could reach. But Derek realized a little too late in his half-awake state that the softness in his hand was, in fact, not you. And it took a few more seconds for him to turn on the bedside lamp to confirm that it wasn't you who was lying in his arms.

It was the fucking pillow.

Derek grabbed the object with utter disgust, stomping through the house until he found you in the nursery. You were sitting in the rocking chair, nursing your infant daughter in your arms, when you looked up at the sound of the door opening. Your head immediately threw back in laughter once you saw the look of contempt that Derek was aiming towards the pillow in his hand.

"What's wrong, Derek?"

"I woke up to this in my arms."

"Did you have a good sleep cuddling with the pillow?" You snickered, enjoying the way Derek's frown deepened with frustration. "I told you it's comfy."

Derek scowled at your cheeky wink, refusing to relent even if deep down he had also begrudgingly started to agree with that sentiment.

After that night, you never heard him threaten to throw out the pregnancy pillow, ever again.

[gremlingottoosilly]

you/your anons have got me hooked on cyberstalker!König so here are some rando headcanons:

-will go through your likes on twitter and grit his teeth if he saw you liked a man/celebrities selfie, god forbid their a male friend because he will spiral into convincing himself that this is like cheating (you two have spoken once) and he has to do something about it

-if he saw you simping for someone casually he would have to step away and let his anger out in the gym because otherwise he would start weighing the pros and cons of murdering Henry Cavill or something

-has a dragons horde of items you liked/expressed interest in because he has a whole plan when he kidnaps you he would offer it as a way to calm you down. this plan is flawless obviously

-you liked a picture of cat ears and a maid outfit ONCE and he has jerked off to that mental image at least 5 times a week

-will try to get into the things you tweet about just to start a conversation but gives up halfway since he doesn't have the best attention span, tells himself that you'll just tell him about it when your together because he could listen to you for hours <3

-that is not hyperbole btw you once posted a video giggling at something your cat was doing and he has put in on in the background as he gets through his day

-has printed your selfies to cum on stare at because he can get headaches if he stares at a phone screen for so long (hes OLD your honor)

-everytime he likes a song/movie you enjoy it fully fuels his delusions that you two are soulmates

-has found your pinterest boards and already has a downpayment on a house that matches your preferred aesthetic perfectly

-kisses the screen when he sees your selfies. nothing to add to that its just something he does

-LOVED when the 'big boy' song went viral and saw you posting about loving it, again, you two are clearly soulmates

i didn't realize how long this is I am so sorry

Omg!! It's literally so perfect, you crawled in my head like a little bug and now you are munching on my brain and I would let you because you are just chill like that. Konig is an old-fashioned stalker who doesn't have time to literally stalk you, he is a busy man with a busy life, so he catches up with your socials instead!! More under the cut

He googles every term he doesn't understand, and reads recaps of whatever show you were watching, just so he could save time on actually watching it. He writes everything in a diary, every little detail because he knows a bit about internet safety from Hutch and he just knows that this precious data is far more protected in the front pocket of his vest, in a tiny and scrawny notebook. He saves every picture and prints it, just to see every tiny detail. Your favorite color, your favorite decorations. You like pink sanrio fluffy style of decor? He doesn't understand it, and don't see a point in just adding to the clutter, but he will buy you as much Hello Kitty and My Melody stuff as possible. Something minimalistic, but expensive? He understands it a bit more, and he is happy to finally use his money for something nice and not just beer. He would be grinning like a cat with the cream if you like video games -- especially the ones he likes, the violent action ones. He can't let go of the war even at home, and having a perfect game when he doesn't actually have to worry about being in danger but putting as many enemies down as possible is nice, really. You would have to explain the point of Minecraft to him though. The celebrity crush one omg!! Konig is insecure because if you like more normal, traditionally attractive male celebrities, he just knows he can't compete. However, there has to be something wrong with you if you really like Konig, so he doesn't mind - after you stop liking those celebs of course. God save you if you have some porn in your twitter likes - he would try to implement it in your sex life. Bondage? He already knows how to make really good knots. Cnc? It's basically your whole sex story already. He would never let you forget about every embarrassing little picture you liked, and he enjoys thinking of you as a perverted thing that needs some good punishment. If you do cosplay...oh boy. Even the most normal costumes are a good jerk-off material for him. Even if you cosplay male characters, he'd find a way to sexualize you -- it's not really nice of him, but this old man finally got what cosplay means and he is not letting go of this knowledge.

His soldiers think you're his wife already because he keeps your photo, a fucking collage of your photos, on his desk and a polaroid of you in his vest pocket. Poor ol' you, having stalking problems and not even knowing about it because he is too busy to actually court you.

[bananababblegigglemuffin]

Night Time

Note: fluffy smut not really smut. bTW LOGANS PERSPECTIVE

The room was hushed, save for the faint whispers of the television playing Moulin Rouge. It was three in the morning, yet here we were, wide awake. I could feel the warmth of your body against mine, each breath bringing me closer to peace — or as close as I’d ever get. Insomnia was second nature to us both, though for different reasons. My mind often drifted to battles and old memories, while you, love, seemed to be up for an entirely different reason. A reason that, right now, was wrapped around my waist.

"So, sweetheart, what’s got you so giddy tonight?" I teased, nudging you slightly, hoping for one of those infectious smiles that lit up even my darkest hours.

“Well, Lo,” you began, a mischievous glint in your eyes, “I went shopping today with Jean and Storm. You should’ve seen the dress I found. It’s this amazing burnt orange tulle dress — the perfect shade for fall! But I don't have anywhere to wear it…”

Ah, your voice had that lilting disappointment, the kind that made me want to punch a hole through anything keeping you from your happiness. But this was a problem I could fix. “Well, Bub, how about I take you out this Saturday?” I offered, hoping to see that look of surprise in your eyes.

“THIS SATURDAY? YES PLEASE!” you almost squealed, practically bouncing in place. It reminded me of a kid in a candy store, and I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face. Watching you light up like that was damn near one of my favorite sights.

“God, that means I've got two days!” you gasped, pulling yourself off my chest, looking as though you were about to pull off some high-stakes operation. I propped myself up, watching you dart across the room with all the energy of a firecracker. You opened the closet and then cast a glance back at me, that sly little smirk of yours.

“I know that look, babe,” I chuckled. “Of course I want a show! I’d be a real hoser to decline, sweet cheeks.”

You slipped on the dress and twirled around to show it off. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. The dress was perfect — understated up top with full sleeves, its burnt orange color dotted with delicate purple flowers that practically screamed autumn. But it was the bottom that took my breath away. You looked like some kind of goddess, moving like a whisper across the room.

“Give me a 360, babe,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. You turned, and that’s when I saw it — the low, daring U-cut in the back, held together by barely-there crisscross laces. My breath hitched. You were a vision, and the cool room air only enhanced the way your skin glowed.

“Oh, goddess, you've got me weak in the knees here," I murmured, my voice a little rougher. "Come back here. I need to worship you.”

You giggled but obliged, slipping out of the dress and crawling back into bed, pressing yourself into the white comforter like an angel. My hands found your bare back, fingers trailing patterns along your skin. I was lost, drawn to your scent, breathing it in as I nestled into the curve of your neck. I brushed over you, feeling every little reaction beneath my fingertips. “Lo, you’re so nice,” you murmured, and I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped.

“I’m nice to you, love,” I whispered, more truth than any promise I’d ever made.

"Okay, enough of that. Let me help you this time," you said, pulling yourself up and straddling my back before I could argue. You settled yourself just right, leaning down and pressing your hands against my shoulders, kneading with a surprising strength. I could feel every curve of you, and it was enough to make me bite back a groan.

“Turn over, wolfie,” you giggled, a sparkle in your eye as you leaned in. I gave a little grumble. "Baby, you don't have to do this," I insisted, knowing full well how stubborn you could be. But you'd made up your mind, and I knew resistance was futile.

I turned, letting you position yourself above me, and couldn’t help but feel the warmth of you as you applied lotion, massaging my shoulders, working your way down to my chest. Your touch was slow, deliberate, and I was practically melting into the bed beneath you. I could feel every bit of you pressing against me, warming me, leaving me in a state I could barely describe.

You moved slowly, massaging my biceps, and even my hands, taking your time as you knew well how to do. My hands slid up to your waist, resting there, simply feeling the rhythm of your movements. The closeness, the heat, it was everything I’d ever wanted and never thought I’d deserve.

Then, just when I thought I’d have a moment to breathe, you shifted, sliding down a bit lower, your hands exploring down my abs. “Sweetheart, this is supposed to help me sleep,” I muttered, feeling the low rumble of laughter in my chest. But you just smiled that mischievous smile, your fingers never slowing as they traced the lines of my chest, inch by inch.

Your fingers teased at my skin, each stroke soft but intentional, a reminder that you knew exactly how to drive me wild. Every touch felt like a jolt of electricity, something I could feel down to my core. And when you met my eyes with that sly grin, that sparkle of confidence, it nearly undid me.

My breath hitched as you leaned forward, lips grazing my neck, barely a whisper against my skin. The world outside was silent, but inside this room, it felt like we were galaxies away, locked in some kind of cosmic, timeless dance. I wrapped my arms around your waist, pulling you closer, feeling every part of you pressed against me.

“You’re really trying to get me into trouble, aren’t you, sweetheart?” I muttered, grinning as I tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You just giggled, your cheeks flushed with that look of mischief that was so perfectly you. “You’re the trouble, Logan,” you whispered back, running your fingers over the scar on my shoulder, tracing its path, knowing it like a map you’d memorized.

There was something about these late hours, these shared, stolen moments. The way you looked at me, the way you didn’t shy away from any part of me—the rough edges, the scars, the parts of me that even I couldn’t stand. With you, it all seemed to fade into the background, replaced by a warmth that ran deeper than anything I’d ever known. I tilted your chin up, meeting your gaze, and in that instant, I felt completely bare—no defenses, no walls. Just us.

“Do you even know how dangerous you are, darlin’?” I asked, running my thumb across your cheek, brushing against that soft, flawless skin. “You’ve got me wrapped around that little finger of yours, and you don’t even know it.”

You just smiled, your hands slipping into mine, fingers intertwining. “You’re my dangerous one,” you whispered back. And then, in that calm, quiet moment, you leaned down, pressing your lips to mine. The kiss was soft, unhurried, the kind of kiss that felt like it could last forever. I could feel every ounce of your love, your care, in that single touch.

Our breaths mingled as the kiss deepened, the world outside fading even further. I ran my fingers along your back, trailing down your spine, feeling every shiver, every response. The connection between us was undeniable, electric, like a fire that refused to be put out.

“Sweetheart,” I whispered, voice rough with emotion. “You’ve got no idea what you mean to me, do you?”

You pulled back slightly, eyes meeting mine with that gentle, unwavering look that somehow held the entire universe. “I think I do,” you replied softly, your voice a gentle hum against my skin. “I know, Logan. And I’m not going anywhere.”

We lay there, entwined in each other, wrapped up in the warmth of our shared space, of the peace that somehow seemed to exist only in these quiet, stolen moments. You tucked your head beneath my chin, your arms draped around me, and I held you close, feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against mine.

Eventually, I felt your breathing slow, your eyelids fluttering closed as sleep finally began to take hold. And for once, the nightmares seemed far away, held at bay by the warmth and comfort of having you by my side. I let myself drift off, holding you close, knowing that whatever battles lay ahead, I’d face them with you.

As sleep took its sweet time arriving, I held you close, feeling your breathing slow against me. The quiet warmth of the night wrapped around us, and I ran my hand along your back, tracing gentle patterns like I was memorizing every detail. You looked up at me, a sleepy smile dancing on your lips, and it was like seeing sunlight after a long winter.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” you murmured, eyes half-closed, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Darlin’,” I replied softly, brushing a kiss against your forehead, “I’m not going anywhere.” The way you nestled into me, resting your head in the crook of my neck, made me wish I could somehow hold on to this moment, freeze it in time. The world felt perfectly right with you beside me, like every broken part in my past had finally found its place.

You were playing with the edge of my shirt, a small, absentminded gesture that felt so intimate. “I think you’re my safe place, Lo,” you said softly, your fingers tracing small circles on my chest. “No one’s ever made me feel like this.”

It was a confession that hit deeper than anything, a truth spoken in the small hours of the morning. I didn’t have the words to answer, so I wrapped my arms around you a little tighter, letting the silence fill with everything I couldn’t say. With you, it was more than love; it was peace, something I hadn’t thought I’d ever have.

We lay there together, breathing in sync, the stillness of the room pressing in like a comforting blanket. The flicker of the television cast a soft glow over you, and I reached over to brush a strand of hair from your face, just so I could see you more clearly. The gentle light played on your features, illuminating that spark in your eyes, and for a moment, I forgot about everything else.

I brought your hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to each of your fingertips, feeling the soft warmth of your skin. You let out a small laugh, that soft, delicate laugh that had the power to make the hardest parts of my heart melt. "Logan," you whispered, voice light and full of affection, "what did I do to deserve you?"

It was a question that I often felt myself asking. "Sweetheart, I think I’m the one who's undeserving here," I replied, pulling you even closer, savoring the feeling of you against me. "Every time I look at you, I know I’m the luckiest damn man alive."

You tilted your head up, eyes meeting mine with a look so full of love it almost hurt. Slowly, you brought a hand up to my face, your thumb brushing over the rough line of my jaw. There was something in your gaze, something that made me feel like you saw right through me — the scars, the history, the hard edges — and somehow still loved every part of it.

We stayed like that, wrapped up in the quiet comfort of each other. And even as the hours stretched on, I didn’t feel tired. I could’ve held you there forever, listening to the soft rhythm of your breathing, the gentle beat of your heart.

After a while, I leaned down and kissed the top of your head, breathing you in like you were the last bit of oxygen I needed. “You know,” I murmured, resting my cheek against your hair, “I used to think I’d be alone forever. But you—well, you changed that.”

You looked up at me, eyes bright despite the soft haze of sleep. “Logan,” you said, a little smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “you and me, we’re not alone anymore. We’re a team, remember?”

“Yeah, darlin’,” I replied, feeling something warm and steady settle deep within me. “We’re a team.”

And in that small, quiet moment, with the early morning light just beginning to creep in, I knew that whatever the future held, as long as I had you by my side, I could face it. This was what I’d been searching for all along — not just love, but a home. A place to rest, to finally be at peace.

Holding you close, I let myself drift, your warmth anchoring me to something real, something good. This, right here, was everything I ever wanted, wrapped up in the arms of the only person I’d ever let myself truly love.

end.

author: i hope some of you liked reading it! please do comment and reblog, it means the world to me

[badger-tales]

Fire and Honey//F.W x reader

🚨WARNING: SMUT MINORS DNI, use of potion and unprotected sex🚨

a/n: Guys you have no idea how much I love Fred and I genuinely think this is one of my most favourite fics I’ve written!!! Again I’m not too good at writing smut imo but I gave it a solid shot!!! Also I want to put it out there that I’ve never had sex so all my knowledge is strictly from literature!! And for the anon that requested this it’s not super kinky I do apologise but there is potion use!!!

request: Fred Weasley x reader PLEASEEEEEE (afab/maybe plus size reader if that’s not too much to ask but not necessary). Preferably smut, BUT I’ll take anything (literally anything cuz I love some good angst/fluff). I just can’t find any kind of content ab him that fits my preferences since it’s been 4 years since hp blew up and he’s my current obsession 😩😩 btw if it’s smut, plsplspls make it kinky - anal, potions/spell use, toys, crazy positions, etc and maybe whatever you’d like to add!

word count: 8.3k

The chime of the small brass bell above the door to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes rang out, its cheerful trill slicing through the animated hum that permeated the air inside. You stepped over the threshold, and immediately, the shop’s warmth enfolded you like an embrace, the familiar swirl of chaos and laughter welcoming you back into its fold. The heady scent of sugar mingled with an unmistakable tang of smoke and the subtle, sparkly edge of enchantment. It was a symphony of sensations that spoke of mischievous pranks and the gleeful pandemonium that could only be found in the heart of Diagon Alley.

Everywhere you looked, the shop was alive with movement and color. Shelves crammed with whirring, clinking, and chattering objects towered around you, each vying for attention with dazzling, enchanted displays. A child’s giggle rang out as a pocket-sized dragon made of candy belched tiny, harmless flames, and the sudden puff of orange smoke lingered in the air, leaving behind the faint aroma of caramelized sugar.

George Weasley, with his signature ginger hair gleaming like a flame, stood at the front counter. He was leaning forward, animatedly explaining the finer points of Fanged Frisbees and Decoy Detonators to a group of wide-eyed students, their expressions torn between wonder and awe. His booming laughter filled the room, bouncing off the polished wood and sparking even more joy around him. His eyes crinkled in genuine amusement as he gestured with both hands, exaggerating some tale or another.

But the moment he spotted you making your way past a small, precariously teetering pile of Puking Pastilles, his face split into a grin that spoke of shared memories and easy camaraderie. “(Y/N)! Haven’t seen you in ages!” His voice was as warm and bright as a summer afternoon, pulling a smile to your own lips despite yourself.

You opened your mouth to respond, navigating carefully around the pastilles that seemed ready to topple with the slightest provocation, when a voice cut in from behind a towering stack of multicolored boxes. It was a voice you knew well—velvet and mischief, with a lilt that never failed to send a flutter through your chest.

“Oi, careful there, wouldn’t want you to trip and fall for me again, now would we?” Fred’s words were drenched in playful sarcasm, his grin appearing just a moment before the rest of him did. He leaned into view, half-hidden by the chaos of exploding novelty fireworks in their bright, gaudy packaging, his hair a riot of red that caught the soft glow of the shop’s enchanted lamps. That grin—half-cocked, knowing, and absolutely infuriating—sparked a memory that made your face warm. Third year, a muddy Quidditch pitch, and the storm that had turned the game into a comedy of slips and scrambles.

You narrowed your eyes at him, arms crossing over your chest in mock indignation. “If I recall correctly, Weasley, it was you who went down first,” you countered, a smirk lifting one corner of your mouth as the memory played out between you like a well-worn scene from an old play.

Fred stepped out from behind the boxes, closing the distance between you in two strides. He looked as he always did—untamed, a perpetual storm of energy. His hair was slightly mussed, evidence of a day spent in relentless activity, and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, exposing freckled forearms streaked with faint smudges of flour and the blue-black smears of enchanted ink. You couldn’t help the small, appreciative flicker in your chest at the sight, at the easy way he carried himself as if the world were one big joke he hadn’t quite finished telling.

“Details, details,” he said, waving off your accusation with a casual flourish. But there was something in the way his eyes, dark with amusement, swept over your face, taking you in with a look so familiar it made your heart skip. The glimmer in his gaze was electric, playful, and it sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“But I’m glad to see you’re back,” he continued, and the note of sincerity hidden in the teasing made your stomach flip. “Here to help George, or have you finally decided to give in and help me test some of our newest products?” His voice dropped, dipping into a conspiratorial tone that made the space between you feel smaller, the air charged with a hundred unsaid things. He leaned in, just a touch, enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him and catch the faint, woody scent of broom polish and something uniquely Fred.

The room seemed to blur at the edges, the rest of the shop and its noise fading into a distant hum. It was just him, and the lingering pause where both of you waited to see who would break the moment first.

You chuckled, the sound light and familiar as it filled the small space between you, a warmth unfurling in your chest at Fred’s nearness. It was the kind of warmth that seeped into your bones and made your skin tingle, a secret heat reserved for moments like this—unexpected, charged, and sweetly unsettling. “George roped me in,” you said, the corners of your mouth lifting as you bit your lower lip, a teasing gesture that did not go unnoticed. “But I’m fairly certain that testing any of your experiments would have me checking in at St. Mungo’s faster than you could say ‘Fainting Fancies.’”

Fred’s smirk deepened, eyes glinting like molten copper beneath the shop’s enchanted lamps. The shadows played across his face, highlighting the sharp cut of his cheekbones and the hint of a dimple that only appeared when he was especially pleased with himself. “Can’t argue with that,” he said, voice dropping into that husky, conspiratorial tone that always made your pulse dance. The slight wink he tossed in your direction was almost too much, a playful punctuation that left the air crackling between you.

For a moment, the world around you seemed to dim, the noise and bustle of the shop fading into a muffled backdrop. The energy between you hummed, an invisible thread that had connected you both for years—woven from quick-witted exchanges that left your hearts thumping, subtle brushes of hands that lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary, and stolen glances that spoke in a language neither of you dared put to words. This was how it always was: a dance, a game, an endless conversation that teetered on the edge of something more.

Before either of you could break the silence, George’s voice pierced the moment, booming from across the shop where he stood surrounded by boxes and half-finished contraptions. “Fred, if you’re done trying to charm (Y/N), I could use your help with the Skiving Snackboxes!” His tone was loud and mock-exasperated, but it carried a fondness that only a brother could manage.

Fred’s eyes rolled dramatically, but a reluctant smile tugged at his lips as he turned to glare at George. The momentary interruption broke the spell, but not the tension. His gaze swung back to you, the spark in it now softened to something almost tender, almost shy. “Duty calls,” he said, but his voice dipped, wrapping around the words as if they were meant only for you. “But don’t go anywhere, yeah?” It wasn’t a question so much as a quiet request, laced with a sincerity that sent your heart stumbling over its next beat.

A blush rose to your cheeks, warm and unbidden, and you nodded, unable to keep the smile from breaking across your face. “Not planning on it,” you answered, the words feeling like a promise, light but solid.

As Fred turned away, the spell wasn’t completely broken. His movements, usually quick and purposeful, seemed to linger as if he, too, felt the weight of what had passed between you. Your eyes followed him as he crossed the shop, and though the chaos of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes buzzed around you—shelves bursting with colorful, enchanted goods and the soft puffs of smoke from a forgotten trick candle—it wasn’t the spark of magic that captured your attention.

It was him. The subtle shift of his shoulders beneath his shirt, the way he glanced back at you just once, his eyes holding yours for a heartbeat before he turned away. The look was fleeting, but it spoke volumes: anticipation, unsaid words, and the easy familiarity of someone who knew you better than most. It settled between you like a shared secret, leaving the room feeling both too small and brimming with possibilities.

The laughter of a nearby child and the sudden pop of a Decoy Detonator brought you back to the present, but the lingering warmth of Fred’s gaze refused to fade. It stayed with you, a whisper of promise and a question left unanswered, weaving itself into the fabric of the moment and making your chest ache with a kind of happy, hopeful longing.

The last dregs of sunlight bathed Diagon Alley in a honeyed glow, casting long, golden streaks that stretched through the tall front windows of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. The shop, usually a riot of chatter and clatter, had fallen into an almost sacred silence. The laughter and footsteps that had filled the space earlier were gone, leaving only the occasional creak of wood and the soft rustle of your breath. You sat perched on a stool behind the counter, its surface polished smooth by years of bustling activity. The warm glow of the enchanted lamps flickered around you, casting playful shadows that made the shelves seem to dance, each jar and trinket catching the light and shimmering like captured stars.

George had finished his closing routine hours ago, with a grin and a cheerful comment about meeting Angelina before disappearing into the night, the final echo of the door’s bell trailing after him like a sigh. Now, it was just you and Fred, and the quiet of the shop seemed deeper, filled with an undercurrent that made your skin prickle.

Fred stood a few paces away, leaning against the counter with a kind of effortless grace that drew your eyes. The soft, amber light spilled over him, highlighting the tousled red of his hair and the way it caught on the line of his jaw. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing freckled forearms that spoke of summer days spent under the sun and long hours tinkering with inventions. The freckles, scattered like a constellation, followed the gentle curve of his muscles, a detail that held your attention a moment too long.

His eyes met yours, glancing up from the rows of small, glittering bottles he was carefully aligning. They flicked back to the task at hand, but not before you caught the glint of mischief that had become as familiar to you as your own heartbeat. The silence between you was thick with the unspoken—shared jokes, stolen glances, moments that had tiptoed to the edge of something deeper but never quite crossed.

“So, (Y/N),” Fred finally said, breaking the stillness with that voice that always seemed to balance somewhere between playful and daring. There was a spark in his tone that made your fingers tighten against the counter’s edge. “Ever wonder what happens when the shop closes?”

A smirk pulled at your lips as you tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. “I’d hazard a guess that it involves you and George setting off fireworks or testing things that’ll inevitably get you on the Ministry’s bad side.” Your voice was steady, teasing, but there was a thrum in your chest that spoke of anticipation.

Fred’s chuckle was low, warm, and impossibly magnetic. It rippled through the quiet, settling in your bones and sending a pleasant shiver racing down your spine. He straightened, pushing away from the counter with a languid ease and crossing the distance between you in a few strides. When he stopped, he was close enough that you had to tip your chin up to meet his gaze, the small space between you charged with a current that seemed to hum just beneath your skin.

“Well, tonight, you’re in luck,” he murmured, eyes crinkling at the corners as they locked onto yours. The way he looked at you—like he was memorizing the curve of your lips and the light in your eyes—made your breath catch. He lifted one hand, and in it, a small vial glimmered, the liquid inside a mesmerizing swirl of gold that reflected the light like liquid sun.

Your pulse quickened, thrumming against your ribs like a wild drumbeat. Fred’s expression softened, watching you with a kind of quiet intensity as if this moment were something rare. “And what exactly is that?” you asked, trying to keep your voice from betraying the way your heart raced. You could feel it—a flutter of nerves mixed with the sharp spike of excitement. The question hung between you, heavy with curiosity and the promise of the unexpected.

His gaze dipped to your lips for a heartbeat before returning to your eyes, a knowing smile curving his mouth. “Something special,” he said, voice lowering to a near whisper, sending warmth cascading through you. The words seemed to tangle in the air between you, waiting, tempting, as the moment stretched like a taut string, ready to snap.

“A little something we’ve been working on. Enhances your senses,” Fred said, his voice dipping to a softer, almost velvet tone that seemed to wrap around you like a whisper in the dark. The shop, with its kaleidoscope of bright colors and enchanted trinkets, suddenly seemed dimmer, the space between you charged with a heat that made the air feel thick. “Every touch, every sound, everything becomes sharper,” he continued, the promise in his words igniting a spark low in your belly.

You swallowed hard, the room shrinking until it felt as if the walls were pressing in, leaving just the two of you caught in this magnetic pull. Fred leaned in closer, the subtle scent of him—a mix of cedar, smoke, and something uniquely Fred—enveloping you. His proximity was dizzying, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips, even as your pulse quickened. “Fred, is this one of those things where I end up with purple hair for a week?” you asked, aiming for humor to steady yourself, though your voice came out shakier than intended.

“No side effects,” he said, his grin widening into a playful smirk, eyes glinting with a mix of sincerity and that irresistible touch of mischief that always seemed to dance there. He leaned in, his breath brushing against your cheek, close enough that you felt the warmth of it. “I swear on my broomstick. Trust me, love?”

The question settled between you, weighted and electric, the words hanging like a challenge. The way he looked at you then—eyes dark, mouth barely a breath away from yours—made the room tilt. You felt the question reverberate in the thrum of your heart, in the way your skin seemed to hum under the golden glow of the lamps. Slowly, you nodded, the playful tension that had danced between you all evening sparking into something deeper, something more.

Fred’s smile shifted, a flicker of warmth softening the sharp edge of his grin as he uncorked the vial, the sound of it popping open far louder than it should have been. The glimmering gold liquid caught the light, refracting tiny prisms that seemed to shimmer with possibility. His eyes never left yours as he handed you the vial, fingers brushing yours—a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of warmth up your arm, lingering like an echo.

You lifted the vial to your lips, the cool glass pressing against your skin before the liquid slid over your tongue. It tasted like citrus and starlight, bright and unfamiliar. The heat that followed was immediate, blooming in your chest and spreading outwards, tendrils of fire igniting each nerve ending one by one. You shivered, the sensation both strange and addictive, making the room feel brighter, sharper.

Fred’s eyes darkened as he watched you, his gaze tracing the flush that spread across your cheeks, the way your lashes fluttered as the magic coursed through you. His expression was unreadable for a moment, a blend of fascination and something deeper, almost reverent. “Feel anything yet?” he asked, the words almost a murmur, and as he stepped closer, the space between you seemed to sizzle.

“Yeah,” you whispered, the simple word catching in your throat as your fingertips tingled and your heartbeat drummed loud and insistent in your ears. The room felt alive, each creak of the floorboards, each distant whir of a clock in the corner, amplified. But none of that mattered. It was Fred’s gaze holding you captive, the slow way he reached out and let a single calloused finger trace the line of your jaw, the touch so feather-light it made your breath hitch.

The trail of his touch left a path of fire in its wake, and he leaned in further, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, lingering as if testing the waters. His eyes searched yours, an unspoken question there, an invitation. The charged silence stretched, and the only thing you could hear was the erratic pounding of your pulse. Your breath shuddered as you felt the weight of the moment shift, tipping past the point of return.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice a rich, molten sound that seemed to sink into your skin and light up every nerve. The way he said it was more than a word—it was a promise, dark and thrilling. His fingers cupped your face, the rough pads of his thumb brushing over your cheek in a touch that was somehow both tender and possessive. The warmth of his other arm slipped around your waist, drawing you flush against him until there was no space left, only the intoxicating press of his body, solid and fiercely real.

The heat radiating from him seeped into you, chasing any coherent thought away as his lips found yours. The kiss was not gentle; it was fierce and unapologetic, as if he had waited for this moment longer than he’d admit, a hunger finally given release. His mouth moved over yours with a fervor that left you breathless, a perfect blend of heat and urgency. You responded in kind, fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt, nails digging in enough to make him draw a sharp breath that vibrated between your lips.

The potion’s effects rippled through you, amplifying each shift of his lips, each slide of his tongue, until it felt as though the world itself spun around you. The warmth that had ignited in your chest spread in hot waves, coiling lower, making everything sharper, more vivid. You were dimly aware of the way his hands tightened on you, the flex of his muscles under your touch, before you realized he’d lifted you effortlessly onto the counter. The hard edge bit into the backs of your thighs, grounding you for a moment in the storm of sensation.

Fred’s eyes met yours as he pulled back, his pupils blown wide, dark and smoldering as they roamed over your face. His breath came in ragged pulls, chest heaving with the same urgency you felt. “If this is too much—” he started, voice rough, words catching as if even the question cost him effort.

You shook your head quickly, fingers curling tighter around the back of his neck, tugging him close. “Don’t you dare stop,” you whispered, your voice a low tremble that barely contained the ache surging through you.

His grin was immediate, wicked and laced with satisfaction, a look that made your pulse race faster. “As you wish, love,” he whispered against your lips before claiming them again, deeper this time, with a focus that bordered on worshipful. His hand remained firm at your hip, anchoring you while the other moved, skimming up the curve of your waist. Each brush of his fingers left a trail of heat that made you shiver, anticipation twisting and coiling low in your belly.

His touch dipped to the hem of your skirt, fingers finding purchase and dragging it upward, the scrape of fabric against your skin only adding to the fire building between you. The feel of him, so close, so intent, was a heady mix of desire and reassurance. His hand squeezed your thigh, the pressure enough to make your breath hitch and your heartbeat drum wildly in your chest.

Every moment stretched and blurred, each sensation heightened to a fever pitch. The low rasp of his voice, the press of his hips against yours, and the way his body seemed to fit perfectly against yours made it impossible to think beyond this—beyond him. The world outside the shop dissolved into the background, leaving only the soft glow of the lamps and the charged silence, broken only by shared, breathless gasps.

The anticipation crackled between you, hot and relentless, as Fred’s eyes met yours once more, a silent question and a spark of mischief that promised there was still more to come.

“Stay still,” he commanded softly, the words grazing your ear like the whisper of silk, sending a shiver down your spine. His lips barely brushed the delicate skin just below your earlobe, and the warmth of his breath curled around you, making it hard to hold back the tremor that threatened to break your composure. The command was gentle but unyielding, more than a simple request—it was a promise, binding the air between you with an intensity that made your heart stutter and sent heat pooling deep in your core. Your chest rose and fell in rapid succession as you nodded, eyes closing against the wave of sensation.

Fred’s mouth curved into a satisfied smirk, even as he leaned in, his lips tracing a slow path along the curve of your jaw and down the side of your neck. He moved deliberately, finding the sensitive spots that made your breath catch, each kiss igniting sparks that fanned out like wildfire beneath your skin. The room seemed to narrow to just this—just the heat of him pressed close, the tantalizing brush of his mouth, and the way his stubble grazed your skin with a delicious roughness that made you gasp.

Your back arched involuntarily, the motion instinctive, a silent plea to close the almost unbearable distance between your bodies. Fred’s arm tightened around your waist in response, holding you firm, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. The pressure of his body against yours was intoxicating, and the room spun with the heady mix of desire and the faint crackle of magic that pulsed in the air. Somewhere behind you, a trinket sputtered to life with a faint whir and spark, but the noise barely registered in the haze that enveloped you both.

The only sounds that mattered were the mingling of your breaths, ragged and uneven, and the low hum that resonated in Fred’s throat as he took his time, worshiping the line of your neck with practiced ease. His lips moved lower, tasting and teasing, each deliberate kiss making your skin flush hot under the warm glow of the shop’s lamps. The light wrapped around you like a golden shroud, highlighting the slight sheen on your skin and casting shadows that flickered with the movement of his head as he explored.

Each moment felt sharper, more defined, as if time itself had slowed to savor every detail. The pressure of his arm anchored you, while his other hand found its way up to cradle your jaw, tilting your head just enough to give him better access. The simple touch was possessive, reverent, and it made a new surge of heat coil in your stomach. Your pulse thundered in your ears, drowning out everything but the slick, intoxicating symphony of heartbeats, breath, and the low murmurs that slipped between his lips.

Every second crackled with unspoken possibilities, each heartbeat a testament to the space you occupied together. The rest of the world could have fallen away, leaving just you and Fred and the uncharted territories mapped between skin and whispered commands. Nothing else mattered—not the ticking of clocks, not the fading light outside the shop’s windows, not the lingering echoes of laughter that had once filled the room. All that existed was the tightrope of anticipation that stretched between you and Fred, sparking like embers, daring one of you to push it further.

And as he drew back, just enough for his eyes to find yours, dark and laced with mischief, you knew that this moment was just the beginning.

The shop was bathed in a hush, shadows pooling in the corners and stretching languidly across the floor, broken only by the flickering glow of the enchanted lamps that cast pools of golden light. The world outside was a distant memory; in this space, only the two of you existed, tangled in a moment that defied the ticking of the clock. Your heart thudded hard in your chest, each beat reverberating through your body like a drum, as Fred’s eyes swept over you—dark, intense, brimming with a hunger that made your pulse stutter.

His fingers, warm and roughened from years of crafting jokes and pranks, brushed up the length of your thighs, the touch slow and deliberate. The soft rustle of fabric as he pushed your skirt higher made the air thicken, pressing down on you with a palpable weight. Each breath you drew felt laden, each tiny shift magnified by the lingering effects of the potion coursing through your veins. It was as if every whisper of movement, every brush of skin, sent a jolt of electricity sparking through you, setting your nerves ablaze.

“You’re stunning, you know that?” Fred’s voice was low, a gravelly rumble that seemed to seep into your very skin. The sincerity that threaded through the heat in his tone made something inside you tighten, warmth blooming in your chest and spreading outward until you felt both rooted in place and light as air. The words stole your response before it could form, leaving only the shallow, uneven rise and fall of your breath.

Before you could regain your composure, his lips captured yours again. The kiss was insistent, demanding, and it tasted of longing that had been simmering far too long. It was the kind of kiss that claimed and gave in equal measure, pulling you under so completely that the world around you seemed to blur at the edges. His hand slid behind you, fingers pressing into the small of your back as he drew you even closer, so close that you felt every heartbeat, every tremor, aligned perfectly with his.

“Fred,” you gasped, the name slipping out unbidden as he left your lips to trail a path down your neck. His mouth was hot, each kiss open and searing as it met the sensitive skin, igniting a chain reaction that sent shivers racing over your skin. When he paused at the curve of your collarbone, the faint scrape of his teeth grazing just enough to make your body tense and then melt, a soft sound escaped you, half-whisper, half-sigh.

He lifted his head, eyes meeting yours with a spark of mischief that never fully left him, even in moments like this. “Hmm?” he murmured, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he spoke. His fingers, which had settled on your thigh, began tracing lazy, teasing circles just above your knee, the touch feather-light but potent enough to make your skin hum with the promise of more.

The potion thrummed through you, amplifying everything—the press of his fingertips, the rush of your blood beneath your skin, the heat of his breath as it fanned across your flushed cheeks. The slight rasp of his stubble as it grazed your neck added another layer of sensation, a delicious contrast to the warmth of his lips and the firmness of his hands. Every nerve in your body seemed to wake at once, straining toward his touch, savoring the way he moved, the way he watched you as though memorizing each reaction.

Time was meaningless, measured only by the whispered touches and the silent, shared anticipation that coiled tighter and tighter, leaving you breathless and aching for whatever would come next.

“Stop teasing,” you managed, though the words barely made it past your lips, breathless and edged with desperation. The response came not as mercy but as the sound of Fred’s chuckle, rich and low, vibrating against your skin where his mouth lingered. The sensation rippled through you, sending a shiver racing down your spine, making you clench your thighs in a futile attempt to steady yourself.

“As you wish,” he murmured, the velvet tone a contrast to the glint in his eyes. It was a promise and a challenge all at once, the corners of his mouth curving into a smirk that told you he had no intentions of making this easy. With a confident grace that set your heart pounding, he drew back, hands warm and sure as they gripped your hips, guiding you to the edge of the counter. The cool surface pressed into the backs of your thighs, grounding you as anticipation twisted in your chest.

The room around you seemed to dissolve, swallowed by the soft, golden glow of the enchanted lamps. The only thing that existed was Fred, now dropping to his knees before you, eyes fixed on yours with a look so intense it stole the breath from your lungs. The heat in his gaze, dark and unwavering, sent another rush of warmth through you, coiling low in your belly and spreading out until you felt liquid, pliant under his touch.

He leaned in, and your breath hitched as his mouth skimmed up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The first brush of his lips was gentle, almost reverent, but it didn’t stay that way for long. Each kiss grew firmer, more insistent, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. The potion’s magic coursed through you, sharpening every sensation until the world narrowed to the points of contact where his skin met yours. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, and it made stillness impossible.

Your fingers found their way into his hair, tangling in the unruly, fire-kissed strands and tugging slightly. The low groan that rumbled in his chest resonated through you, sparking a fresh wave of heat that settled low, tight, and wanting. The sound made your pulse race, a quick, erratic drumbeat that echoed in your ears as he paused, lifting his head just enough for his eyes to meet yours.

“Patience,” he said, the single word dripping with a teasing command that both frustrated and thrilled you. His grin was wicked, eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief even now, as if this moment was just another game he planned to win. Before you could respond, before you could even draw a proper breath, his head dipped again, and the distance between want and fulfillment disappeared.

When his mouth finally met the place where you ached for him most, the sensation crashed over you like a wave, making you gasp, the sound slipping out before you could stop it. The heat of him, relentless and skilled, combined with the amplified edge of the potion, sent jolts of pleasure singing through your veins. It was impossible to think, to focus on anything but the way he made you feel. Your hands tightened in his hair, the counter digging into your palms as you gripped its edge for stability, a lifeline as your body responded to every deliberate movement.

The soft hum of the shop, the distant clatter of a forgotten gadget sparking in the background, was lost to the rush of your heartbeat and the erratic pattern of your breathing. The tension that had coiled so tightly within you threatened to snap, leaving you trembling, the world around you blurred with the force of sensation. Fred’s hands, firm against your thighs, anchored you, guiding you through the storm, until every nerve in your body sang with the fire only he could ignite.

Fred’s movements were deliberate, each calculated touch and flick designed to strip away your composure piece by trembling piece. His hands, strong and commanding, pressed into your thighs, keeping you open, exposed, and utterly at his mercy. The heat of his palms seared into your skin, grounding you as his mouth worked its magic, tongue tracing intricate, maddening patterns that sent shocks of pleasure racing through your veins. The potion’s effects heightened every sensation, turning each delicate flick and press into a jolt that made your breath stutter, your voice splinter into gasps that broke on his name like a whispered prayer.

Every moment was an exquisite torment, the pressure inside you building relentlessly, coiling tighter and tighter until it bordered on unbearable. The only sounds that reached your ears were the ragged pulls of your breath, the soft rustle of fabric under your quivering fingers, and Fred’s occasional hum of satisfaction, the vibration adding another layer to the storm within you.

“You taste incredible,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough, the words rolling out like smoke and sparking a new wave of heat that set your nerves alight. His eyes, dark and dilated, flicked up to meet yours, the connection sending a thrill down your spine. Your response was nothing more than a broken moan, caught and lost somewhere between a plea and surrender, as he pushed you closer to that impossible, breathtaking edge. The world around you shrank, fading into a blur until only Fred remained—the feel of him, the taste, the scent—consuming every sense, every thought.

The tension that had been building, wound tight enough to snap, finally did. The release came in a rush, pleasure crashing over you in relentless waves that left you arching against him, your fingers digging into the counter behind you in a desperate bid for stability. The sensation was overwhelming, blinding, a burst of warmth and light that seared through you, leaving you trembling and boneless. Fred stayed with you through it, his hold on your thighs tightening, anchoring you as the tremors rippled out, slowly ebbing into a soft, residual hum that left you dazed and breathless.

You drew in a shaky breath, the rise and fall of your chest erratic as Fred’s strong arms wrapped around you. With an ease that made your pulse quicken, he lifted you off the counter, guiding you towards one of the plush chairs nestled in the corner of the shop. The room felt charged, the remnants of your shared heat thickening the air. The faint glow of the lamps cast shifting pools of light, flickering shadows playing across the walls as if echoing the intensity between you. His eyes never left yours, the dark gleam within them hinting at a promise unfinished, a desire yet to be sated.

Fred sat down, his posture relaxed yet predatory, and pulled you onto his lap in a fluid motion that left you straddling him, knees pressed into the soft cushion on either side of his hips. His hands slid up your sides, the touch roughened by work and warm against your skin, taking the hem of your shirt with them. The anticipation crackled between you, sparking with every inch of fabric that lifted away, baring more of you to the dim light and his admiring gaze.

He paused once the fabric reached your shoulders, his eyes searching yours with a look so intense it stole your breath. The unspoken question in his gaze was met with your nod, your heartbeat drumming out a wild, impatient rhythm. With a final tug, he pulled the shirt over your head and let it fall to the floor, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to the cool air and his unwavering attention.

“You’re perfect,” he said, the words weighted and reverent, resonating deep within you and scattering any lingering doubts or insecurities. His voice was low, a soft rumble that seemed to travel straight through you, making your skin flush anew. The way he looked at you—eyes wide, full of wonder and hunger—made you feel cherished, seen in a way that transcended the physical.

His hands roamed over your curves, fingers tracing the gentle slopes and hollows with a touch that was both possessive and tender. Each pass of his palm over your skin was a silent declaration, a way of mapping you with touch alone, as though committing every line and contour to memory. The feeling was overwhelming, raw and intimate, and it left you teetering between the need to close your eyes and simply feel and the compulsion to watch him as he worshipped you.

His lips found yours again, this time softer, imbued with a depth that made your heart ache even as it stoked the embers of desire still burning in your veins. The kiss was less hurried, more deliberate—a dance of tongues and parted lips that spoke of affection as much as it did want. You shifted on his lap, your thighs tightening as the solid press of him beneath you stirred a fresh wave of anticipation that curled low and hot in your belly.

Fred’s hands slid to your hips, fingers flexing as he guided you, helping you find a rhythm that sent sparks of pleasure skittering through both of you. The friction built slowly, deliciously, each movement drawing gasps and shallow breaths from your lips that mingled with his own. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, mouth parting as a sound escaped him—a sound that told you he was as undone as you were, as lost in the sensations and the moment.

The room seemed to hum with the energy between you, each shift, each press of your bodies against one another igniting the space with unspoken promises. The quiet groans, the soft hitch of breath, the subtle creak of the chair beneath you—all of it blurred together into a symphony that only the two of you could hear, drowning out everything else. The world outside the shop, the flicker of the lamps, even the magic that hummed faintly in the air—all of it faded to the background, leaving only the two of you and the consuming heat that bound you together.

The room around you seemed to dissolve into a hazy blur as your bodies moved in perfect sync, each movement stoking the embers of shared desire. The air was thick with heat, each breath labored, mingling with whispered names that passed between your lips like sacred incantations. The quiet hum of magic that surrounded the shop, usually a background comfort, now pulsed like a heartbeat, adding to the electric charge that threaded through the space.

Fred’s eyes remained locked on yours, their usual mischief replaced with an intensity that made your breath catch. Even as the rhythm between you grew faster, more desperate, his gaze didn’t waver. It spoke volumes, a silent conversation that said more than any words could: that this was real, that it was shared, and that he was wholly here with you. His hands gripped your hips, fingers pressing into your skin with a possessive strength that anchored you, holding you steady as the storm between you built to a fever pitch.

When release finally claimed you, it came in a rush that seemed to pull the air from your lungs, the tension unraveling in a white-hot wave that left you shuddering. Fred’s grip tightened, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he followed you into that blissful abyss, the two of you caught in a moment that felt suspended in time. The echo of it hummed in your bones, and your body collapsed against his, muscles trembling as you both struggled to catch your breath.

His arms wrapped around you, strong and reassuring, drawing you close until your cheek rested against the rapid thud of his heartbeat. The aftershocks coursed through you both, little tremors that left you breathless and weak, a soft sigh slipping from your lips as the world began to right itself. The shop, with its dimly flickering lamps and quiet creaks, seemed almost reverent in its silence, as though even the lingering magic respected this moment between you.

Fred pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips warm and lingering, the gesture a blend of tenderness and exhaustion. The subtle scent of him—woodsmoke and spice—wrapped around you, grounding you further in the here and now. His fingers, now gentle, traced lazy patterns along your back, the touch soothing and intimate, a silent promise that this wasn’t just a fleeting moment.

“I think we might need to test more of that potion,” he said, the corners of his lips curling into a tired, contented grin that made your heart squeeze with affection.

A chuckle bubbled up, soft and genuine, and you tilted your head to press a kiss to the sharp edge of his jaw, where the faint stubble rasped pleasantly against your lips. “I’d say it passed,” you murmured, the words punctuated by the faint crackle of the lamps, which flickered as if in agreement.

The shop settled into a comfortable stillness, the warmth of your bodies pressed close, the steady rise and fall of your breaths intertwining. It felt like a secret kept in the glow of the lamps and the quiet hum of magic—a secret that was yours, wrapped in the soft aftermath and the shared, unspoken promise of more moments like this to come.

Soft, golden rays of morning sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, painting warm stripes that danced across the wooden floor and climbed the walls. The room was hushed, a stark contrast to the usual cacophony of chatter, laughter, and bursts of magic that filled it during the day. The early dawn seemed to hold its breath, embracing the quiet as if it were something sacred. Your eyes blinked open slowly, the remnants of sleep falling away as the memories of last night washed over you in gentle waves—snippets of laughter that had bubbled between kisses, heated whispers exchanged in the dim glow, the unguarded moments that left a soft, lingering warmth in your chest.

The air carried a calm stillness, and as you shifted slightly, the comforting weight of Fred’s arm draped over your waist became more pronounced. His breath was steady and warm against your shoulder, each exhale a gentle reassurance that anchored you in place. The plush bed beneath you, worn in from years of shared stories and stolen moments, creaked softly as you turned to face him. The sound blended with the muffled stirrings of the early morning outside, where the world was only just waking up.

Fred’s face was softened by sleep, the perpetual mischief that usually sparked in his eyes momentarily at rest. A hint of a smile lingered at the corner of his mouth, as if even in dreams, he found reasons to be amused. Freckles, scattered like constellations, stood out on his nose and cheeks, illuminated by the tender light that spilled over both of you. You reached out instinctively, tracing one of those freckles with a touch so light it was almost reverent. The skin beneath your fingertips was warm, the gesture small but filled with a quiet affection that made your chest tighten.

At your touch, Fred’s eyes fluttered open, the soft brown depths catching the light and pulling it in, making them glow with a gentle warmth. It took a heartbeat for his gaze to sharpen, to focus on you, and when it did, a slow, lazy grin spread across his face. “Morning, love,” he murmured, the words wrapped in the rough, gravelly timbre of sleep. The sound was enough to send a pleasant shiver down your spine, sparking a contented hum low in your throat.

“Morning,” you replied, voice softer than a whisper, fingers moving to toy with the tousled strands of his hair. The auburn mess caught the morning light, shifting between shades of flame and copper. For a moment, time seemed to stretch, elastic and forgiving, holding the two of you in a golden sliver of stillness where the rest of the world didn’t matter. It was just the two of you, suspended between the night and the coming day, wrapped in the fragile, perfect quiet.

But as the silence between you lingered, a shadow of doubt crept in, coiling at the edges of your thoughts. The serenity of the morning, as beautiful as it was, seemed almost too delicate, too transient. You wondered if this moment could hold, if the world outside the shop’s walls—filled with noise, expectation, and the relentless march of reality—could ever understand the tenderness that had bloomed here. The uncertainty prickled at the back of your mind, threatening to mar the peace you’d found.

Fred’s eyes, observant even when softened by sleep, seemed to catch the shift in your expression. His hand slid up your back in a slow, reassuring gesture, fingers tracing lazy patterns that said without words that he was here, that this was real. And as the first bird outside began to sing, tentative and sweet, the room seemed to exhale with you, the morning holding its breath just a moment longer.

The memories of last night felt almost too vivid, too tender, to be real. They shimmered in your mind like the remnants of a dream, leaving behind an ache of doubt that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts. What if this was just a fleeting moment, a beautiful spark that would fade in the light of day? The question tightened in your chest, pressing against your ribs as you shifted slightly, breaking the comfortable cocoon of warmth the two of you had shared through the night.

“Fred, about last night…” you began, the words catching in your throat as you sat up, the morning light painting soft golden stripes across your bare skin. The quiet vulnerability in your voice was enough to make him stir, his brow furrowing as he sensed the hesitation lacing your tone. His expression softened, the mischievous glint usually dancing in his eyes replaced by something deeper, more serious. His hand, warm and reassuring, tightened slightly on your hip, a silent tether that held you both in the moment.

“Hey,” he interrupted gently, the word wrapped in a softness that calmed the storm brewing in your chest. He pushed himself up to sit beside you, the creak of the chair beneath shifting with him. His eyes met yours, earnest and open, their familiar warmth now tinged with an intensity that made your heart stumble. He searched your face as if he could read every unspoken fear and soothe them with his gaze alone.

“If you’re worried that it didn’t mean anything, don’t be,” he said, his voice steady, each syllable weighted with conviction.

The pad of his thumb brushed your cheek, the touch so tender it sent a shiver down your spine. It was grounding, pulling you back from the precipice of doubt. The quiet sincerity in his eyes, the way his brows knitted slightly as if willing you to believe him, made the room seem smaller, cozier, as if it held only the two of you and this fragile moment.

 “Last night wasn’t just… a one-off thing, (Y/N). Not for me,” he continued, and his voice dropped to a near whisper, as if saying it any louder would break the spell. The confession hung between you, heavy and achingly real, chasing away the shadow that had lingered in your mind.

A warmth unfurled inside you, starting at the center of your chest and spreading outward, tinged with relief and something deeper that made your eyes prickle. You felt the corners of your mouth lift in a soft, genuine smile, a quiet laugh bubbling up as you leaned into his touch, pressing your cheek into his palm. The gesture was simple but filled with trust, and the vulnerability that had scared you before now felt shared, lighter.

“Good,” you whispered, the single word carrying more weight than you intended, your fingers finding their way to the back of his neck, tracing the edge of his hair. Your eyes, which had momentarily drifted to the curve of his lips, met his again, steady and clear. 

“Because I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want this—didn’t want you.”

Fred’s eyes softened further, a slow, contented grin spreading across his face, crinkling the skin around his eyes in that way that always made your heart flutter. The morning light caught the red in his hair, turning it into a halo of copper and gold, and you felt a sense of peace settle over you, deeper than anything you’d known. The silence that followed was no longer heavy with doubt, but warm, alive with the unspoken promise of more mornings like this one, shared in the quiet stillness before the world stirred.

With a small, almost imperceptible nod, Fred leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling in the small space between.

“Then we’re on the same page, love,” he murmured, voice barely more than a sigh, before capturing your lips in a kiss that spoke of assurance, affection, and the certainty that this—you and him—was something worth holding onto.

Fred’s grin turned playful, and with it, the last tendrils of tension unraveling, replaced by the lightness of the moment. His fingers found their way to the curve of your smile, tracing it with a touch that sent a subtle warmth trickling through you. “Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it? Because I plan to make this a regular occurrence,” he said, his tone rich with mock-seriousness and a hint of mischief that made your heart skip. He gestured around the cluttered room, jars and enchanted trinkets glinting in the morning light. “Might even clear a shelf for you here,” he added, the twinkle in his eyes daring you to laugh.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, the playful exasperation bubbling over as a laugh escaped your lips, bright and unburdened. The sound filled the room, resonating against the stacks of spell ingredients and rows of joke products that lined the shelves, creating an echo that seemed to amplify the warmth between you. In that moment, the world outside of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes ceased to exist—no bustling shoppers, no clamor of Diagon Alley—just the two of you in the cocoon of your shared laughter.

Fred’s embrace was quick and effortless, pulling you close until you could feel the steady beat of his heart against yours, his chin resting atop your head for a moment. It was grounding, solid, and you sank into it, letting the familiar scent of him—woodsmoke, cinnamon, and the faintest trace of parchment—wrap around you like a second skin.

He tilted his head down, pressing a kiss to the crown of your hair, his lips lingering as he spoke, voice dropping into that familiar, teasing drawl that made your stomach flutter. “I’ll make breakfast. Well, I’ll attempt it. No promises on how edible it’ll be,” he said, the smile in his tone unmistakable.

“Considering I saw you burn water once, I’m prepared for the worst,” you retorted, a grin splitting your face as you looked up at him. The laughter that followed was soft, shared, and it drew a playful nudge from Fred as he released you, eyes twinkling with the kind of joy that seemed inexhaustible.

He pushed himself up, stretching his arms high over his head, muscles shifting under the thin fabric of his sleep-rumpled shirt. The motion revealed a strip of skin, toned and freckled, catching the sunlight in a way that made your breath hitch and a blush creep up your neck. Fred noticed, his gaze snapping to yours just as your teeth caught your lower lip. The smirk that spread across his face was pure mischief, eyes narrowing slightly as if he’d just caught you red-handed.

“If you keep looking at me like that, breakfast might have to wait,” he warned, the playful lilt in his voice sending a new spark of heat through you. His eyes danced with that familiar challenge, the kind that made your heart skip and your pulse drum a little faster.

You laughed, the sound a little breathier than you intended, but didn’t look away. The quiet intimacy of the moment wrapped around you both, filling the shop with a warmth that had nothing to do with the sunlight streaming through the window. For now, there was no rush, no outside world knocking on the door—just Fred, you, and the golden glow of the morning, full of unspoken promises and the sense that moments like this would soon become part of the everyday tapestry of your life together.

[bookishdiplodocus]

A longread on writing comedy

This is what I do to research writing comedy:

What helped me most was analyzing a lot of jokes: "It's funny. Why is it funny? How does this joke work?" Usually it's something that subverses the expectations in a specific way or an unexpected collision of two things. (Like a pun is a collision of sound and meaning.) For my analysis, I wonder: "What is the expectation after the set-up? Why do I have this expectation? How does the pay-off subverse the expectation? Why does it still make sense in relation to the set-up?"

For example: I unleashed this kind of analysis on the movie George of the Jungle. It has a surprisingly high hit rate, I think around three jokes per minute in the first one third of the movie, and it still manages to get the story going and the characters introduced. I’ve mentioned this before, but I don’t think I gave examples, and you know I’m all about the teaching.

I found at least 17 types. Heads up, this is going to be a longread.

Type 1: Puns

Narrator: “When they finally beheld the mighty Ape Mountain…” [They see a mountain shaped like a gorilla head.] Narrator, cont’d: “… they reacted with awe.” All: “Aww.” Narrator: “I said ‘awe”. A-W-E.” All: “Ooh!” Narrator: “That’s better.”

Explanation:

The pun lies in the fact that “awe” and “aww” sound the same.

There is a visual type of comedy as well that we can’t effectively reproduce in writing: the mountain is shaped like a gorilla head.

BTW: the narrator defies genre expectations by interacting with the characters, and the characters defy genre expectations by being able to hear the narrator.

Type 2: Tone of voice

Narrator, about the main characters: “Scraped and boo-booed, they searched high and low.

Explanation:

“Boo-booed” is a children’s word, not the tone you would use for a hero. Compare “tummy” and “stomach”.

Type 3: Defying genre expectations

[The guide falls off a rope bridge into a deep chasm.] Narrator: “Don’t worry—nobody dies in this story. They just get really big boo-boos.”

Explanation:

The narrator is breaking the fourth wall.

Again: tone of voice with the “boo-boos”.

Contrast between the boo-boo and the injuries one usually suffers after falling into a deep chasm.

Type 4: Not defying genre expectations

[A lion appears from the bushes. A baby monkey makes a sound like “uh-oh”.] [The baby monkey does the Tarzan call and bangs its chest.] [The lion flees.] [The monkey giggles.] [The monkey gives George a thumbs up.] [From the bushes, the lion winks at George. George winks back.]

Explanation:

Expectation: the lion is a danger to the baby monkey and George will need to fight it to save the monkey.

Defying expectations: the monkey and the lion are in on the plan.

Not defying genre expectations: George of the Jungle is clearly based on Tarzan. George doesn’t refer to that fact, but the monkey does, by doing the Tarzan call and banging its chest.

Improbable: monkeys who giggle and give thumbs up.

Impossible: lions who wink.

Type 5: Contrast

Narrator: “Meanwhile, 43 vines away, George’s kingdom is being threatened by a terrifying intruder.” [We see the adorable Leslie Mann, who plays Ursula, smiling and talking to the camera.] Ursula: “Hi! It’s me again!”

Explanation:

Contrast between what the narrator says and what we see.

The narrator isn’t lying. He refers to Lyle and the poachers who will be introduced in this scene.

There’s also humor in the phrase “43 vines away”, because of the overt specificity and because a vine is not a measure of distance.

Type 6: Oblivious character

[Lyle takes a Polaroid picture of one of the guides.] Lyle: “Do you like it? Magic picture. Yet another gift from America. Here you go. You’re welcome.” [The guide replies in Swahili. There is no translation in the subtitles.] [All the guides laugh.] [The guide continues in Swahili. Only the last few words are in English: “35 mm.” The guide takes his own camera and snaps a picture of Lyle.] [All the guides and Ursula laugh.] Lyle, not amused: “Translation, please.” Other guide: “He says he likes your magic pictures, but he prefers the resolution of the Leica 35 mm transparencies.” [Everyone but Lyle laughs.] Other guide, cont'd: “He also says your lens is dirty, but he has the equipment to clean it for you.”

Explanation:

Lyle doesn’t understand Swahili, while the guides understand everything Lyle says to them in English.

The fact that Ursula, Lyle's fianceé, understands Swahili and laughs along with the guides, is adds contrast to his obliviousness.

Lyle is the butt of the joke. He humiliates the guides and now he’s humiliated on his own turf while the guides don’t stoop down to his level.

This joke is threefold: 1. The set-up: Lyle is the arrogant asshole who thinks he’ll show the locals about technological development. 2. The guide is not only not impressed, he knows Polaroid and has a camera of his own, and is knowledgeable. 3. And he demonstrates his superiority in a (more or less) polite way.

Type 7: Slapstick

[George is swinging on the vines.] Narrator: “He is swift. He is strong. He is sure. He is smart.” [George hits a tree and falls.] Narrator, deadpan: “He is unconscious.”

Explanation:

Slapstick is another type of humor that barely translates to written fiction, when the actors behave silly, for example by falling over, hurting themselves, or others. It's often over the top. Laurel & Hardy is a well-known example of slapstick.

Type 8: Alliteration

Narrator: “The tired trekkers trudged on feverish footsies over perilous paths.”

Explanation:

If several words in each other’s vicinity start with the same letter, it’s called alliteration.

Note that "footsies" is another example of a contrast in tone of voice—it’s another children’s word.

Type 9: Improbable things

[George spins a lion over his head.] George: “George not even trying hard.”

Explanation:

While not impossible, spinning an actual lion over one’s head is improbable and thus goes against real-world expectations.

Type 10: Impossible things

[A gorilla called Ape enters George’s tree house and scares Ursula.] Ursula: “What does it want? What does it want?” Ape: [points at a big book] “It wants its Physician’s Desk Reference, if you don’t mind, unless you’d rather die of dengue fever, of course.” [Ursula faints again.]

Explanation:

Gorillas can’t talk, can’t read, and aren’t usually well-versed in curing tropical diseases.

Type 11: Breaking social norms

[Ursula is unconscious. George licks her face, clearly meaning well.]

Explanation:

In our society, it is not only considered impolite but also gross to lick the face of a stranger. The fact that George does this anyway, clearly not realizing he does something wrong, is a subversion of what we’d expect of social norms and behavior.

Type 12 and 13: Hyperbole and understatement

[Earlier, Ursula fainted when she saw Ape talk and do human things.] [Ape is reading when he sees Ursula look at him. He panics, throws the book away, starts grunting, and bangs his chest.] [Ursula faints again.] Ape: “Eh.”

Explanation:

Ursula fainting again is a hyperbole: a reaction that is stronger than expected.

Ape saying “Eh.” is an understatement: a reaction less strong than expected.

Type 14: Obvious repetitions

Ursula: “… And I didn’t want my fianc—Um, this guy I was with, to worry.” Narrator, a few moments later: “George and Ursula set out on a desperate search to find her fianc—Uh, that guy she was with.”

Type 15: Stating the obvious

[We see the guide’s hand, pointing at a really big footprint in the mud.] Narrator: “Meanwhile, back at the really big footprint in the mud, (...)”

Explanation:

Stating the obvious can be funny because the audience doesn’t expect you to do or say this because it is so very obvious.

Type 16: Adult humor

[George watches Ursula sleep.] George: “George having stirrings of special feelings right now.” Ape, drily: “I see.” George: “Good thing she same species, huh?”

Explanation:

Ape’s reply, “I see”, could be an innuendo, but it doesn’t come across as a joke (to me at least). Maybe it’s downplayed because it’s a children’s movie.

If this is an innuendo, it’s a play on words. “I see”, figuratively, for “I understand”, or literally for “Yes, I can tell from your erection.”

“Good thing she same species” because George shouldn’t have stirrings of special feelings for animals.

Type 17: Rhyme

[George is swinging on a vine.] George: “Look, like this!” Song: “He flies through the air with the greatest ease.” Song, cont’d: “Our daring young man on the flying trapeze.” [George hangs upside down from a vine.] George: “Look, no hands.” Song, cont’d: “His movements so grateful, all girls he could please.” Song, cont’d: “And with love he is swinging away…” [On the ground, gorillas frantically run back and forth with a safety net.] Song, cont’d: “He flies through the air with the greatest of ease.” Ursula: “George, watch out for that—” Song, cont’d while George yelps: “Our daring young man on the—” [Song stops abruptly.] [Thud] [George grunts.] Ursula: “… tree.”

Explanation:

When words end in the same sounds, we call it rhyme.

It’s physically impossible to hang from a vine with no hands.

The gorillas with the safety net imply that they expect George to fall.

Also, it’s improbable that gorillas would do this.

Slapstick: George hitting the tree.

Comedic timing: Ursula being just too late to warn George about the tree.

Song + Ursula: “Our daring young man on the—tree.” Because by then he is literally stuck to the tree.

Or throw everything at the audience, whatever.

[George has a pet elephant, Shep, who behaves like a happy doggy.] [Shep is chewing a humongous bone.] Narrator: “Later, they rested, while the tired tusker teethed on a… Wait a second, the dog bone is too much. Lose it.” [The dog bone disappears.] Narrator: “That’s better.” [Shep whines.]

Explanation:

Improbable: Pet elephant who behaves like a doggy.

Alliteration: “tired tusker teethed”

Fourth wall: the narrator comments on the story while it is going on, and edits it.

*** Here are some other funny situations from the movie. Try to analyze what’s going on. Usually you can spot several types.

Situation 1

Narrator: “Meanwhile, at a very big and expensive waterfall set, Ursula was amazed that she was lost in the wilderness with a jungle man.” Ursula: “And here I am, lost in the wilderness with a jungle man.”

Situation 2

Narrator: “The guides came dangerously close—” Narrator: “That is, dangerously close to shove a coconut up in Kyle’s—” Narrator: “Sleeping bag.”

Situation 3

Lyle: “I am the richest, handsomest, smartest guy here, so I get to go first!” [Lyle pushes past everyone, trips over a tree stump and lands face first in a steaming pile of elephant poop.] Lyle: “There’s an elephant here.” Guide, while looking straight into the camera: “Bad guy falls into poop. Classical element of physical comedy.” Guide, cont’d: “Now comes the element where we throw our heads back and laugh.” Guide, cont’d: “Ready?” Other guides, while also looking straight into the camera: “Ready!” [All the guides throw their heads back and laugh.] [Monkey laughs and points at Lyle.] [Off-screen, other animals make laughing sounds.] Lyle, spitting out poop: “Those are nowhere near properly digested.” Lyle, cont’d: “In case anyone is wondering, I’m okay.”

Situation 4

[Cliffhanger: it looks like Lyle has shot George from up close.] Narrator: “Whew! Okay kids, let’s settle down and review the important information. Lyle is a big doofus. Poor George was actually shot but can’t die because, let’s face it, he’s the hero. So, the naturally concerned and preternaturally wealthy Ursula Stanhope whisked George away on a private jet bound for the country of his birth—” [George has a tiny band-aid on his forehead.] Narrator, cont’d: “—where he’s gonna get the finest medical treatment available!” Ursula: “I’m gonna get you the finest medical treatment available.”

Situation 5

Narrator: “Well, Ursula […] could use a best friend now.” Best friend: “Hi!” Ursula: “He’s in the shower.” Best friend, distracted: “Not anymore.” George, naked: “Bad waterfall. First, water get hot—” [A sexy saxophone plays] George, cont’d: “Then George slips on this strange yellow rock.” [Perspective: the camera looks at the two women, seen from between George’s legs. They are clearly ogling his crotch.] [Ursula swoons.] George, noticing the friend: “Hi! George of jungle.” Friend, eager: “Charmed, I’m sure.” [Ursula hands George objects that barely cover his crotch. The camera switches back to a frontal view of George. The friend is still ogling George.] Best friend, mumbling appreciatively: “I see why they made him king of the jungle.” *** I hope this was helpful. Don’t hesitate to ask me any questions, and happy writing!

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[ilovepaigebueckerss]

can we have emily engstler x fem but masc energy reader like- reader is always trying to hit on the girls and trying to rizz them w a masc energy (reader is TALLLL and has some muscles) and when she saw emily for the first time shes like okay im seeing you and she suddenly turns out as a pick me girl trying to get her attention 😭😭 masc energy suddenly disappears and she just wants emily (very random im sorry 💀💀💀)

just an act.

part 1/?

pairing: emily engstler x fem reader

summary: you were a pretty cocky girl. you knew you were fine and you used that as an advantage to flirt with any girl you wanted and you were pretty smooth. this all changes one night when you meet a blonde basketball player.

a/n: okay so like the dates dont match the ACTUAL game dates but js shhhh🤫🤫🤫but anywho i kinda dont like this but yeah. THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING BTW KEEP EM COMING.

word count: 1.1k

__________________________

APRIL 26TH, 1:23 AM

you were at a bar with your friend maddie, taking shots, dancing, and just having fun. you were wearing a short leather skirt with a plain white crop top. (you can imagine whatever you want) you had your hair in a half up half down style and you thought you looked pretty good.

“cmon y/n!!! lets dance” maddie yells to you

you were a few drinks in and already ready to go home. the bar was sweaty and reeked of alcohol. not to mention the loads of guys attempting to get a pass on you.

“you go ahead, i think imma get another drink.” you respond.

she nods and throws you a thumbs up as she walks toward some random dude shes probably gonna forget about tomorrow.

you head over to the bar and order yourself a drink. you noticed the bar tender was oddly attractive. long hair, a septum AND eyebrow piercing. she was wearing a white tanktop with a unbuttoned plaid button up.

one thing about you is, if you think someone is attractive you’re gonna let em know since you were pretty confident.

she came back with your drink and when you grabbed it you made sure to graze your hand against hers.

“thanks” you say.

“welcome” she responds.

“soo.. when did you get into bartending?” you asked. you mentally slapped yourself. ‘really’ you thought ‘couldn’t think of anything better..’ you judge yourself.

she chuckled at your poor attempt to start a conversation.

“2 years ago” she responds, smiling at you. “whats your name?” she asks, continuing the conversation.

“y/n, and you?”

“audrey”

you smile at her taking a sip of your drink observing her features.

“a picture lasts longer you know.” she says snapping you out of your thoughts.

“haha very funny. its not my fault theres an attractive girl standing right in front of me.” you respond slickly

you can see her facial expression changed to a flustered one. ‘im backk’ you thought.

“thanks. your pretty cute yourself” she says. you giggle at her comment “thank you” you say sweetly, still smiling.

maddie comes stumbling towards you. “y/nnn, lets go homeee” she slurs.

“oh my god, let me get her home. it was nice meeting you audrey!” you say grabbing maddie by her waist to keep her stable.

“you too.”

______________________________

APRIL 28TH, 7 AM

“morning” you say to a very sleepy maddie. she just groans in response.

“made you some food!” you say smiling big.

“thanks y/n/n” she responds tiredly. “mhm” you hum in response.

“im so excited! today is the mystics game!!” you practically yell.

_______________________________

APRIL 28TH, 5 PM

you were getting ready for the game making sure to look cute because you didn’t know who you were gonna see.

your rule was ‘always look cute nm where you’re going’ (real)

you were wearing jorts and a random basketball jersey you found on amazon. (again imagine whatever you want) you had big gold hoops on and your hair in a slick back pony with a red bow to match your jersey.

“MADDIEEE” you yelled for your best friend. “LETS GO WE NEEDA MAKE TIKTOKS”

your bestfriend comes running into the room all dolled up.

“AHHHH LOOK AT YOUUUU!!” you yell “looking all fine and shittt” you hype your best friend up.

she sticks her tongue out in response. “BABY LOOK AT YOUUU” she screams.

“mwah” you say making a kissy face.

“okay lemme just put my lip combo on and we good to go” you say excitedly.

________________________________

APRIL 28TH, 6 PM

the game started at 7 but due to your best friend being extra she insisted you got there at 6.

so there y’all were at the game; early as hell.

“okay ill get us our seats, go get the snacks from the car.” you say to her. she nods in response and starts walking off to the exit door.

once you found your seats you sat down and started scrolling on your phone. you notice the players starting to come in and you feel your cheeks get hot. you didn’t realize it would be that embarrassing to be here so early.

the players wave to you and you wave back smiling big. you couldn’t help but notice one blonde with tats. she was FIONEEE and coming your way.

‘shit’ you think.

“hey! thanks for coming to our game.” she says smiling

her voice is husk and you melted just by hearing it.

“oh and i like your jersey” she says raising her eyebrows.

you look down at your jersey and see that the ‘random’ jersey you bought belonged to a fairly attractive blonde basketball player.

“oh uh, thank you.” you respond shyly. you could feel your cheeks getting hot. “and uh of course yeah uh good luck” you say a stuttering mess

“well i got to go! but it was nice meeting you..” she pauses “uh y/n” you say “y/n!” she continues.

she runs off but looks back at you “hey! stay after the game!!” she yells to you.

________________________________

TIME SKIP

the game ended and the mystics won.

you didnt mention to your bestfriend that emily told you to stay after the game.

“hey uhh, so emily engstler wanted me to stay after the game.”

maddies eyes widen “WHAT” she says shocked and then her expression changes.

“and why did you not mention this?” she asks sassily.

“i don’t know but i’m scared” you say honestly. you never had to hide your feelings from maddie.

“girl, GET UP” she yells louder than she intended. “look at youuu” she says spinning you around. you couldn’t help but smile at her antics.

“i love you” you say making a sad face. “yeah yeah now go get your girl!” she says.

“y/n!” you hear a sorta familiar voice call your name.

your knees buckled at the sound of her voice.

“hiii” you say, sounding way too excited. your cheeks get that familiar sensation.

“hey! i just wanted you to stay after the game cause your pretty cute and i was wondering if i could get your insta” she admits.

you almost fainted.

“oh yeah its ‘y/ncantstandyouhoes’” (real)

Emily chuckles after hearing your username

“well i gotta get going but ill text you okay?” she says

“yeah..”

you stand there dumbfounded trying to process what just happened.

________________________________

TIME SKIP

you got home and maddie went straight to bed so you had no one to debrief to.

you decide to just go to bed until you see a notification that makes your knees weak.

‘Emily Engstler followed you!”

[sophswritingthings]

I Just binged your apothecary wife series (SO GOOD BTW) and hear me out

Mizu x reader, but reader is kinda similar in the sense that they pretend to be a man in public , OR fem presenting woman who knows how to fight. And basically them being a power couple

(Imagine reader has something like dual swords instead of a katana, or like something fun and cool) 👀👀

Also i want mizus gender so Bad

pairing: mizu x fem!warrior!reader

warning(s): swearing, blood, injury, uhhhh a little nsfw? I made it as sfw as I could with what my mind wanted to do 

a/n: dude. you guys are so SMART. and yes, I want mizu's gender as well. i already am having thoughts about fuckin next halloween 

summary: you had been mizu's dueling partner for years; and only recently had the two of you gotten together. you joined her on her quest to kill the three white men in japan. and you two are absolutely a power couple, ready to kick ass at all time—and your passion for one another grows day by day.

word count: 874 words / 4,710 characters 

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mizu came back up from her fight, covered in blood; severed limbs scattered around her. and there you were, her lovely partner, on the other side of the fight.

you were also drenched in blood, your hair tied back and a flower (which she had given you) tucked in your hair splotched with blood. you were wielding two swords in either of your hands, smiling at her.

she walked over to you, each step concise and filled with purpose. she gave you a quick kiss on the lips, making you drop your weapons at your sides. she always found it cute how you let your guard down so much with her.

“you still manage to look so beautiful, even like this,” she murmurs against your lips, brushing a hand through your dark hair. 

“as are you,” you whisper, titling your head back to give her access to your neck. she takes the gesture happily, pressing soft kisses on your neck. it drew soft sighs and smiles from you.

“we need to get cleaned up.” she murmurs, dragging you down the cliff. you still wore a kimono, to which you tucked you swords under.

you still needed to be seen as a lady, to pass by. underneath that little facade was the ass kicking badass that mizu loved so much.

you stopped at the ocean, a small tide pool closed off by rocks. she was stood behind you, slowly removing your blood soaked kimono and dropping it to the sand.

you shivered as the cold wind brushed your skin. your partner was behind you, breathing in your presence, kissing and biting the skin of your neck.

it felt so damn good, little soft moans and sighs escaping your lips as she did so.

mizu chuckled against your neck, standing up straight. she pulled your hair down from its updo, doing the same with hers. she tugged off her own blood soaked clothes, taking your hand and leading you into the warm tide pool. 

you hummed, sitting in your partners lap, your forehead pressed against hers. her fingertips gently caressed your waist.

you were so beautiful, like this. so kind and gentle on the outside of the that fighting persona; so sweet, so beautiful.

you had gone from being so serene and sweet to pissing her off.

you splashed water into her face, giggling as you did so.

she wiped the water from her eyes, opening those gorgeous blue eyes with an unimpressed expression. she raised an eyebrow, only slightly.

“I will kill you.” she hissed the words, but there was no truth behind those words. you knew what she said was bullshit, an empty threat.

she’d never lay a finger on you, well, not in that way, at least.

“ah, uh-huh, sure you will, my darling,” you giggle, wading backwards through the pool. “I would like to see your attempt.”

her expression changed with a smirk across her face now, her hair dripping wet as it felt on her face. the sight was one to behold.

mizu waded under the shallow water, grabbing your ankles and dragging you under with her.

you let out a little squeak of surprise, laughing as the bubbles floated to the surface. 

the two of you popped up from the water again, your body now pinned against the rough rocks. her soaking wet body kept you pinned there; your wrists firmly in her hands.

you giggle, “how the tables turn, I see,” you murmur, gazing up at mizu with hungry eyes.

mizu didn’t say a word, brushing your hair behind your ear. 

“uh.. mizu..?” you were getting worried from your partners silence, gazing back at her. she typically had some stupid thing to say in these kinds of situations.. but here she was, silent as the wind. “I-is everything okay?”

“I love you.”

those three little words left her mouth. 

your eyes went wide, gazing back at her. she had never said anything like this, not to you, not to anyone. you weren’t sure she even said it to herself.

“I love you more than I think you could even phantom,” she whispered, leaning into the crook of your neck, kissing tenderly. her body pressed yours, drawing a soft moan right from your chest.

“I..” your voice trailed off, trying to return the passion in which your lover showed you. “I.. I love you too..”

you whispered the words. you were too wrapped up in the moment, with the ‘I love you’ and the way she were pressed up against you.

you could hear her whispering tiny little I love you’s in between passionate kisses. It was clear she meant it; and she was going to make that clear. wether it was with words or actions, it didn’t matter.

you loved her so much.

you would most likely follow her to the ends of the earth, if she asked. and you knew she would do the same for you.

you were devoted to one another. as partners, as lovers.

devoted to your love, to your passion. It wasn’t an obsession, a worship, one sided.   you were equally devoted to one another; and that was clear from miles away.

she would tell you she loved you to her very last breath. 

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a/n: mizu is the person to get so devoted to her lover that she dies protecting them and I need that. I need it now

[whousestypewriters]

──── ୨ৎ SURPRISES — KAI AZER + PAEDYN GRAY ‧₊˚

a/n: i have so many requests for another kai and pae + their daughter fic/hc so im smushing it all into one and giving u a cute lil fic hehe (and only answering one of those bunch of asks lol) no warnings just fluff and my shit half coherent brain going THATS A GOOD IDEA WRITE THAT!!! BTW this is following my hc's so the daughters name is adena :)

"mommy!" the pitter patter of small feet down the hallway stirs peadyn from her sleep. her much needed sleep. cleaning her daughter's room and the rest of the house is no joke. she's actually surprised she didn't just fall over in the middle of it all.

speaking of said daughter the little girl bursts through the doors of the large room and takes a run up and launches on the bed. "mommy! guess what daddy and i did!" she giggles moving up onto paedyn's lap.

"what? what did you do?" she smiles down at her daughter arching an eyebrow at the mischievous grin adorning her little face.

"we made a mess!"

that makes paedyn's smile fall, only slightly though, she's never one to crush her little adena's excitment. but if she has to clean up again, a man named kai azer is going to lose a few things- starting with his balls.

"you're making it sound like we trashed the house," the rumble of kai voice appears in the doorway as he shoots adena a stern but playful smile. "i promise the mess was contained and cleaned up, darling," he says as he enters the room. "we just wanted to surprise you, right you little rascal?"

adena smiles brightly at pae. "yep! and! and! we even founded a pretty flower for you too," she chatters away, her eyes bright with excitement.

"well then lead the way to this surprise," paedyn grins at adena and she all but jumps off the bed and squeals in delight as she runs down the hallway to the stairs.

"i promise its all cleaned up, you don't have to do a thing," kai says looking down at pae and offering his hand to help her up off the bed. when she does take it, he pulls her extra close and wraps his arms around her waist, his head resting on her shoulder as they sway gently side to side. "we just wanted to say thank you for being the best mommy out there." he raises his head to press a kiss to paedyn's forehead. "to thank you for being the person i get to wake up next to everyday. its the greatest gift i could ask for, i don't deserve you at all."

the moment is sealed with a kiss that melts both of their hearts until a screech interrupts them. "no stop it daddy! mommy needs to come see her surprise! you can kiss her later. not now." well, thats that apparently.

"on a scale of one to ten, how surprised to i need to act when we get downstairs?" pae asks kai as the walk following the silver hair of their girl tearing down the hallway.

"that ruins the surprise, grey," kai scolds and wraps his arms around her waist as they walk.

"well then, surprise me, azer," she grins reaching the stairs.

"believe me i plan on doing that for a long time baby."

𐔌 . ⋮ 🏷️ tags .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

@arqbella @midiosaamor, @reminiscentreader, @off-to-the-r4ces,

[wifeofwandamaximoff]

Meeting the Lover

Everyone just arrived at the base about 5 miles away from it. When all of a sudden Jarvis detected a heat signature. Wanda knew it was you so she ran out of the quinjet to find you. Everyone screamed Wanda to come back but it was too late she was too excited to see her love again after 3 weeks apart from each other and that was far too long for Wanda.

Then she saw you sitting on a tree branch smiling at her. She giggled and made grabby hands so you could bring her up to hug and kiss each other.

(You could control the elements btw). You summoned some vines to carefully bring her to you.

"Hello mon chou." you said when she finally was in reach of you. She jumped in your arms and sighed contently to be in your arms again. (Mon chou stands for my sweet bun, a pastry because Wanda is sweet :O )

"Hi detka!" squealed Wanda because she was so excited to see you.

Just then you heard the avengers screaming Wanda's name.

"Mon chou the team is looking for you lets go back down." you whispered softly to her.

"Hmm just a minute I missed you." hummed Wanda.

"Mon chou lets go before they send a search party and let me see my sestra." you persuaded her.

Natasha Romanoff was your older sister. You both were separated in the red room. When she escaped you had to pay for it. You were tortured and experimented on all because of her actions. You were in there for about another five years until you escaped.

Then Hydra captured you when they found out you were an assassin. That's where you met Wanda and her brother Pietro. He always supported your relationship with Wanda of course once you both became lovers. Sadly the red room found you again a took you from Hydra making the twins think that you died when you touched the soul stone. You were the only person in Hydra to touch the soul stone twice gaining controlling the elements and wings.

Your sister thought you were dead when she went back to the red room with Clint but Dreykov told your sister you died when you had really been moved to the new red room. So you haven't seen her in years. 

You've been living in France for the past five years but decided to go look for Wanda. She mourned for you but never moved on because you were her soulmate. She of course was over joyed when she saw you but was extremely mad when you didn't contact her until that moment. Yeah you got a harsh slap on the cheek twice.

"Lets go now Mon chou its been five minutes." you said

"Fine but I want cuddles when we finish the mission." she said with puppy eyes.

"Mon chou you know I can't I need to go back to France." you told her and she started to have tears well up in her eyes.

You felt really bad so you did some thinking.

"lets go mon chou, I need to meet the team anyways."

She just hummed wiping her tears away.

I then lowered us both down and landed in front of the team. The vines then let Wanda go but she still clung onto you. The team saw you and thought you were a threat but when Nat told them to lower their weapons they hesitantly did.

Nat had tears in her eyes and she dropped her gun. Her hands were shaking violently.

"Y-y/n?" whispered Nat when she was directly right in front of you. Wanda let you go letting you have a moment with your sister. after years of not seeing each other. 

"Hello Nataila..." you softly said. You then opened your arms inviting her into a hug. The boys were shocked because Nat never shown PDA. But you or Yelena were the ones who she would show PDA with.

She ran into your arms and clung onto your mission suit.

(epic mission suit :D)

After our little moment I started to introduce my self to the avengers.

"hello my name is Y/n Romanoff now lets get this mission done so I could go back home." , you spoke with blank coldness yo assert dominance to the team. (Lamo that sounds cringe)

They just nodded kinda afraid of you now.

You then made your wings spread. Totally forgetting Nat was still holding onto you.

"Y/n! Let me down!" squealed Nat.

"Oh shit my bad."

"Language!" yelled Steve

You rolled your eyes at him then dropped your sister making her scream while the others ran towards her to catch her. Right before she hit the ground you summoned some vines to soften her landing.

When Nat was recovered from shock she looked up and glared at you while your girlfriend was just rolling her eyes.

You just stuck your tongue out at her and flew off to the Hydra base. Planning on finishing the mission before the avengers get here.

(Time skip when the computer finished uploading everything to the flash drive.)

Right after you pulled the flash drive out about 15 hydra men swarmed you. They began firing special bullets that they just made for you. You quickly noticed that the bullets were special so you quickly exploded the hydra base sensing that the team was in a safe distance to explode the base.

You used your wings to fly and try to quickly find an exit or Wanda and Nat was going to have a panic attack.

"Y/n where are you!?" Wanda screeched in your ear. You forgot that you could communicate with the others. You were use to doing solo missions. (We just independent like that).

"Wanda im fine but im not going to be fine if you give me an ear infection, your harming my cochlea mon chou." you said softly but really you were panicking from not being able to find an exit. 

"Im sorry but just get out go there Tony said that apparently you exploded the hydra base on the west side. Y/n River Romanoff you better be on the east side of the building." demanded Wanda at the end.

"Wanda is right you better be on the east side I just got you back so you can't leave me and Wanda." demanded your sister in a angry yet broken voice.

I just ignored them. Focusing more on finding an exit and not leaving the two most important people in my life.

Just then I turned back when I felt heat behind me. I saw fire. I then turned back and quickly ran throughout the east side finding a building.

"Y/n! Where are you!? Your sister and your girlfriend are freaking out your gonna send them in a early grave Y/n!" exclaimed Tony.

"Even though I don't know you very well Romanoff I don't want those two to be in a world of pain where their favorite person is gone kid. I also have a feeling we're gonna be great fucking friends." Tony told me.

I was about to say something when I felt something pierce me in the stomach. I looked up and saw one hydra agent that was able to find me. Blood was spewing out of my mouth like a water fountain. I was coughing up so much blood that there was a puddle forming beneath me. I looked up and saw a hydra agent standing there with a gun in his hand.

"If in going down you're going down with me!" shouted the hydra agent.

Then I felt myself going up to flames with the hydra agent.

Wanda's pov:

The hydra base then exploded. I felt my whole world crumble and my heart shattering at the thought that I was never gonna see Y/n again, the love of my life was gone. My knees buckled and Nat held me up. I could feel her grief and her thoughts were too loud.

God damnit Y/n River Romanoff! Why did you leave me I just got you back! God damnit! Just come back to me I can't l-lose you again. Fuck its all my fault! If I helped her out with the agents she would still be here! God damnit Natalia why didn't you help her!

I then looked up at Nat and I was greeted by tears. Just then I felt a gust of wind. I looked at the direction where the wind blew and I saw her.

I blinked multiple times to make sure she wasn't a production of my imagine. But she didn't go away or fade away. I abruptly stood up and felt Nat's arms fall off my body. I slammed my body into here holding on as tight as I would afraid she would leave me. Then I felt another body slam into Y/n's and I peeked over and saw Nat was sobbing in her chest.

After a while I asked a questioned we all probably wanted to know.

"How are you alive the building exploded and no survivors were left!" I sobbed out.

"I think we all want to know that to Y/n." said Steve.

"Oh I wasn't here at all for the fight I just went to a donut shop after I dropped Nat." Y/n said smoothly. A little too smoothly.

"Y/n what are you hiding from us?" I questioned her and tilted my head to the side.

Her eyes widened when she saw my head tilt.

"Okokok um so I just found out like yesterday before I got here I could clone my self..." she rambled out.

After me and Nat scolded her for not telling us before we went to the hydra base, more like her clone but im just glad she's still here with me.

We arrived back at the compound and everyone went straight to their rooms tired from the mission. After a while Tony called all of us to the living for something.

When we all arrived there we just waited for Tony to say something.

"Ok I called you guys down here because I want to throw a part-" Nat cut off Tony before he could say anything else,.

"Stark if your about to celebrate my sister for almost dying today im going to cut your finger off."

He then just started to think for a second to make up an excuse.

"No for meeting the lover that has Wanda all smiley and giggly before she goes back to France." Tony said happily.

Me and Nat both frowned being reminded that Y/n was going back to France.

"Actually Fury came by earlier and invited me to the avengers, so I accepted!" Y/n told us happily.

I then threw my body on hers really happy from the news. Then I felt Nat push me away and plopped onto Y/n's body.

I then pouted because Nat stole my cuddle buddy.

Y/n's pov

I was so glad that im able to get a fresh start and be able to stay with my two favorite people in the world.

----

Made a long one because the others were short.

I made this like a year ago and now looking back on it im cringing quite hard...

(Not proofread!)