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cl6teen · 5 months

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affection, ln4 ❀ chapter ii. the need to know

masterlist || chapter i || chapter iii

summary: [4.5k words] drunken nights spent in lando’s townhouse are an ode to your friendship, and maybe just a little bit more.

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

contains: lando and reader are in denial, self friendzoning, lots of reminiscing and fluff, lando taking care of reader, very lazy smut, one night stands, oblivious flirting, talks of sex, intoxication, unprotected sex, pull and pray.

note: not proofread, this can be read as a stand-alone or as part of my affection series, however this is not a required read for said series. (sorry for such a long wait! exams were rough and this was difficult to write for some reason)

❀ silverstone ❀

The overarching sounds of EDM and conversation ring through Lando’s ears in a destructive harmony that’s sure to hit him tomorrow morning in the form of a stupid migraine. Still, he pushes through the sea of bodies crowding around, trying to huddle in close enough to him to hopefully snag a photo of ‘Silverstone’s P2 driver’. It has a nice ring to it, since you said that with Max in this competition, P2 is the new P1, so he should be nothing more proud of his performance.

Prideful he was, enough to confidently down shots with today’s true winner, forgetting how the Dutchman always lets as loose as he can during these after parties. And while they didn’t seem to hit whilst manning the dj turn-tables for the last hour or so, the newfound alcohol in his system was certainly making itself known now.

His hands run through brown tufts of hair as he scans the club entrance for you, “Y/n?”

“Over here.”

You’ve sat yourself in an armchair close to the women’s washroom, where you nurse a half-full lukewarm bottle of water in your hands before taking yet another prolonged sip.

“You look like shit.” He chuckles, leaning down to fix the strands of your hair that stray from the rest.

“Tell me about it,” you roll your eyes playfully, a laugh escapes you both, “you’re not one to talk, either.”

Fair point, he shrugs. With tousled hair that manages to go in every direction except for what it was originally in, sunglasses threatening to fall off the bridge of his nose, and the faint red lipstick marks stained on his unbuttoned white collar, Lando looks far from put together. He’s impossible, how can he have the nerve to talk to how you look on a night out while he was so quick to leave you with Oscar (who you had no problems being with—he just didn’t seem to be the party type) after receiving a shameless once over from a leggy blonde passing your group by upon arrival.

“So, where’s tonight’s girl?” He stares when you passively fold your arms into each other and question, completely unaware of how the movement pushes your chest together. He clicks his tongue, stop looking, Lando.

“Hell if I know.” He sighs in fake disappointment, in hopes of cutting that conversation off as quickly as it was introduced, “you’re staying at mine tonight.”

Okay, you nod. You don’t question it—you never do. Instead you sit quietly and watch him swipe around on his phone, no doubt shooting Max (Fewtrell) a quick text to let him know you were both leaving before calling up an Uber Black. Was this normal? To go home with Lando after a long night out? To you, the answer was always yes—hell, if you need him, say the word and he’s on the way, isn’t that what friends were for?

But other people can’t fathom the idea, they look at the two of you with doubtful eyes after explaining that although you can’t seem to go anywhere without one another, Lando’s just a friend. You sigh in exasperation at the thought, Lando Norris isn’t dateable; at least, not to you. He texts you about the girls he’s on dates with and nitpicks about how their breath smells, or how they had food in their teeth, or the potent perfume they drench themselves in to the point of inducing headaches in people they pass by. He’s whiney, and picky, and—

Lando’s fingers snap in your face and bring you out of your stupor, “What’s got you thinking so hard?”

“Nothing.” Your little jump earns you a perplexed look from Lando, who can only stare you down, “nothing, just want to get some rest.”

“The car is here, but it’s a little walk across the street.” He notices the heels toppled over each other next to the chair—you truly are a mess. “Do you have your purse?” You nod, flimsily holding the bag up for him to see.

Lando is no Superman, he knows that well after an ambitious jump off a bunk bed and straight into an ER visit and a three month cast at the age of ten; but now he feels like he’s got the power to do it all, looping the straps of your heels on a finger and hoisting you into his arms bridal style. It’s far from a pretty sight, but it still manages to grab the attention of partygoers nearby, who point and whisper and gush at the scene in front of them. “People will see, Lando.” You look up at him through dark lashes in an unfamiliar way that gets his gears turning—more than anything, he just wants to get you to this car.

“Yeah, but that’s okay.” He smiles nervously, letting you burrow your head into the crook of his neck to hide from the nipping British breezes outside. It's probably anything but okay; pictures might make their way around, and make both his life and your own a pain in the ass, but he can’t rain it on you like that.

The subtle aroma of your perfume invades his senses, and all of a sudden he’s become so hyper aware of his touch on your skin, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest—he shakes his head.

In Lando’s mind, you’re but one thing to him; a friend—one he intends to keep like that.

—

Silent car rides in the backseat have never been Lando’s thing, not when he’s drunk, not when he can’t use his phone because he has to watch you. He’s not complaining, really—but there’s a fleeting moment of relief when forty minutes later, the two of you find way to the steps of his townhome, and he's fumbling around in his pockets for the keys while you stay huddled close to him to keep warm despite already sporting his jacket.

He’s profane as he fiddles with the door handle. You’re lucky he’s sweet enough to give you his clothing, because even though he practically threw it at you after listening to your nonstop whines about the cold, and how he ‘wasn’t even fazed by it’, he is actually freezing now.

“Tonight was…”

Rough, Fun, you both say in tandem; Lando’s enthusiasm is unsurprising, he finds himself at home in these situations. Work hard, play harder, he would say—it makes sense, his job is high stakes, stressful, the media is a pain in the ass; you would look forward to the fun bit too.

However, you’re not Lando, you don’t vacation in Ibiza or party with Max Verstappen on weekends—you travel to Thailand and read on rafts, but your best friend making podium during a home race is more than enough reason to show face for the night, so you make your peace with it and thank whoever that you’re home now.

“I need to change out of this,” you refer to the dress you’ve spent the entire after party readjusting and pulling down only to tug back up. “Lend me a shirt?”

“Did you really need to ask?” He speaks from a hunched over position while clumsily taking off his shoes. “You know where my room is.”

It’s a painfully familiar place; Lando’s never around enough to change it up anyway. When was the last time you were here? Maybe two years ago, during summer break, your memory is too foggy, but not to the point where you can forget your first time visiting. You and Lando were nineteen and twenty, and he wanted to use his well earned ‘Y/n’s daddy’ funded bonus on something practical. A house was not what you had in mind, but twenty five year old Carlos had a bottle of wine and a pipe dream of a three person housewarming party (one your father wasn’t too stoked to hear about, no doubt). It ended just as expected, wine drunk and full on that no bake cookie dough, albeit against the wishes of the drivers’ nutritionists, and you somehow bundled up in Lando’s brand new King bed while the other two found their comforts in plastic wrapped couches tucked away in the living room.

The only thing different in Lando’s bedroom are the bedsheets (thankfully), and frames full of podiums that showcase just how far he's come.

The smile you fight while reminiscing falters when you reach to tug at your zipper and fail. For what you spent on it, the list of inconveniences following your dress just seems to grow.

“Lan!” An exasperated huff escapes you, “could you come in for a moment?”

“My zipper, it’s stuck and I can't get it.” You want to cringe at your words, it’s a cliche—one of the many the universe seems to put you two in. Turning away from him, you move your hair out the way to expose your back, “do you mind?”

His fingers feel warm on your back, it’s a foreign feeling that creeps over the expanse of your nerves and has your breath hitched uncomfortably in the back of your throat. Something is just…different—maybe the alcohol, but you’ve been drunk around Lando one too many times and never has it ended like this, with his fingers nervously fiddling with the metal zipper, tugging at your dress material while gently trying to yank it down.

“Lando, that hurts.” you breathe for the first time in what feels like ages.

He kisses his teeth in frustration, placing a firm hand on your waist to keep you from squirming around, “You need to stay still.” The thickness of his accent becomes more apparent with each word.

You feel so weak, letting just a simple touch bully you into submission, silently you nod. The zipper's journey down is agonizing and slow, for both of you; at this moment, Lando wants nothing more than to leave the room, yet his feet seem glued to the ground he stands on. It’s dimly lit, but you can still feel eyes burning holes into your bare skin, up from the nape of your neck and down to the top of your hips that the lace material underneath clings to.

He watches the thin straps of your dress struggle to stay atop your shoulders and fall down your arms, further exposing the skin of your back—he sees a tattoo, one that he convinced you to get in Vegas last year, it looks good, better than he thought it would.

“—did you hear me? Are you done?”

He should leave.

“Yeah, yup. I just got it down,” and as quick as he came, it feels like Lando’s miles away, “I’m gonna go now, just…grab whatever shirt you would like.”

–

“Hey.” You say quietly, padding your way to the kitchen island.

Okay. Things seem a lot more normal between you two. Maybe all that was needed to fix whatever tension between you both was a fresh change of clothes and some bright lighting.

“You hungry?” He prompts, leaning against quartz counters with the world famous boyish smile signature to Lando himself. “I can make us a little snack before bed, just to lighten the hangover you’ll probably get tomorrow.”

You hum sweetly, the time reads 1:53 am—it’s earlier than you thought, time always blurs together when you’re drunk. “Could you get me a glass of water please?”

“Here you are, missy.”

You scrunch your nose up at his tone, “any name but that.” He laughs obnoxiously, proud of how he manages to get under your skin in a way only he can.

The sizzling sounds of grilled cheese on the pan accompanied by the dull hum of a faulty ceiling light are the only ones in the kitchen (you’re constantly telling him to get it fixed, but Lando never seems to follow up on your suggestions, opting for the answer of ‘I don’t even live here like that anymore’). Sipping from your glass, the lipstick stain on his collar catches your eye again—you’re curious, why didn’t he just go home with her?

“So what happened with the girl?”

“What?” He turns to look at you, brows furrowed into a knot. It’s not until you make a little gesture to the base of your neck that he looks down at his own to see what you mean. “Oh, her, what was her name again…Abby, Aria—no, Amy. She was too…onto me, only talked about racing and the other drivers. Don’t get me wrong I like, love, racing, but I want to have a natural conversation.” he searches for the right comparison, “like how you and me flow.”

You and me.

Empathetic, you sigh into your hands, Lando is simple, adjacently, he likes things that are simple; routine and normal, like you two. “Lando, if you keep comparing girls to me you’re going to chase them away.” You think his attitude will be his undoing, but he says if it hasn’t happened now there’s no chance of it happening ever. “Even worse, they’ll think I'm your girlfriend.”

He shrugs calmly, so normal about the entire idea, “Max says they already think that.”

“Yeah well,” you huff out in mild annoyance, stuttering over your words at the thought of Lando discussing your relationship status with someone. “Max doesn’t know everything.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t date you in a million years,” mouthing off, he turns to look at you with a sour face, “too snobby.”

“You talk like you’re not daddy’s money too.” The reaction of your middle finger poking out is almost reflexive. “You’re not my type anyway.”

“That’s a lie. You thought I was cute when I first met you.” It is a lie, a painfully bad one at that—Lando has always been a cutie; though, his constant need to annoy you in some way seemed to drown that aspect of himself out.

“And then your personality came to light.”

The witted banter between you always comes naturally—he would poke and prod at your last fiber of patience with him until you finally find yourself giving your attention to his words and firing something back that would be surefire dig deep had it not been aimed at somebody like Lando.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t think I’m hot.” Sniggering, he shoots you a teasing wink, “don’t worry, I think you’re hot too.”

“I know that, everyone thinks I’m hot.”

He scoffs to himself, he says you’re a narcissist, you say it’s not narcissistic if it’s true.

The spurt of banter is short lived, and soon enough you’re back to hearing the hum of the kitchen lights. It’s peaceful enough, better than the crescendo of club music from an hour ago.

But you’re inebriated—and needing to talk to keep yourself from falling asleep while waiting on Lando, you start, “Have you ever thought about it?”

“About what?”

“You and me,” you repeat his words from earlier, but they’re not laced with the cool and calm confidence Lando had—instead, they’re shaky. You’re unsure if you want to know the answer to your own question.

“Like…dating?” The pitch of his accent goes higher in confusion.

“Uhm, not dating per say…” you down your saliva to slow yourself before continuing, with the liquid courage flowing through your veins, the mental filter that once barricaded stupid nonsense from revealing itself is nowhere to be seen; which sucks because you could really use it right now.

“Do you mean hooking up?” Lando takes the meek stare you give as a yes, and your sudden shyness has him wanting to press you for more, “Have you?”

Have you thought about it? Screwing Lando Norris? Embarrassingly so, you’ve always wanted to sleep with an F1 driver (to know what makes these girls so insane for them, that’s what you tell yourself), but you prefer to keep those fantasies in your head, locked away in an untouchable space where nobody can reach. Still, it would be a lie to say it hadn’t crossed your mind—even if you harbor no romantic feelings towards him, people don’t usually mind sleeping with someone they find physically attractive.

“And what if I have?” You probe, arms folding into each other as you watch Lando watch you out of the corner of his eyes.

You’ll put him into a lot of trouble soon enough, and he dreads the day you do. “You’re funny.”

“So it never crossed your mind?”

Of course it has, look at you—unbelievably pretty even while piss-drunk and dressed in an old wrinkled t-shirt riding up your thighs. Though, he would never tell you that to your face; it would do him more worse than good. Lando might not love you in that sense, but he is a single man with an appreciative eye; he thinks many of the other drivers on the grid can attest to the fact that you’re stunning, some even going as far as using him as a means of snagging your number. He does you the favor of turning them down in your stead, though, because you would never get with any of them—he’s sure of it.

At least, that’s what he hopes.

“Every guy has thought about hooking up with his best female friend, at least once.” He shrugs, not seeming to care about the way your mouth hangs open at his nonchalant vulgarity. Lando doesn’t actually know if it’s the truth, but he sure as hell feels that way about you, wrong or not. You don’t notice, but he’s already turned the stove burner off before facing you with a jerkish smirk, “what, did you want to try tonight?”

“Jesus, goodnight.” You shove at his left shoulder and try to make a b-line back to his bedroom, only to be held back by Lando's outstretched arm that wraps itself around your shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” he’s quick to plead, and he’s equally as quick to overlook the plans of goosebumps that settle across your body at his touch. “What I said was a dick move, I admit it.” Through a fanned breath, he heaves out, “but seriously, hm? What’s got you thinking about all that?”

What has got you thinking about all of this? The shots of Patron making its home in the pits of your stomach mixed with rumors that never seem to die down, maybe. There should be a warning sign, Patron & gossip: can lead to shamelessly flirting and innocently talking about topics like hookups and sex—with Lando Norris no less.

And Lando…

He’s better than this, he knows he’s better than this, letting your suggestions lurch him into a debauched daydream of the two of you coming to a head in the bedroom of his home, skin hot from fleeting touches instead of warm alcohol, hands grabbing underneath the shirt hung over your body and finally being able to do what no other man could—

“It’s not going to happen.”

—do for you.

You bring him out of his thoughts when you quickly dismiss the entire idea (disappointingly so), “I brought it up because I’m…bored, and drunk.” the tone of your voice goes high enough to pan your mumbled words out as a question, even you sound unconvinced of yourself.

Lando recognizes your doubts just as you do. “You suuuure about that?” He says in a way that has you giggling schoolgirlishly into his arms and makes this a little more not-so-awkward. “You know you don’t need to lie to me.”

While there's probably some truth to his reassuring words, he’s being bad, he wants this—maybe even more than you do, you can tell. It makes you a bit more still, knowing that he’s also, to some extent, got a hard on for you in a one-off sense. Meanwhile, Lando’s mind is going a mile a minute (it’s characteristic of someone who actually goes a mile a minute for a living), carefully observing your expressions to see what it is you’re thinking—to some degree he is a gentleman, if you say the words, he’ll forget anything was ever mentioned.

But boy does he want it.

Glassy eyes seem to pierce yours for what seems like an eternity, “Lando…” You hope your voice is calmer than how you feel, but it’s not promising; the world around you feels standstill—like you can’t even breathe for air.

“Don’t say my name like that.” He mumbles, eyes softening at how your body relaxes into his own. The two of you dance around the point of no return, still, magnetically you gravitate towards it. You want to embrace it tonight, and worry about the mess brewing tomorrow.

“Fucking hell.” He curses in the endearing way only a Brit can, arm circling the small of your back and lips ghosting against your own, “it’s just a one time thing.”

“Just this once…”

Just this once is what you tell yourselves when his lips catch your own, tongue languidly breaching your mouth whilst pulling you closer into him as you fall into his touch and wrap your arms around his neck. It’s just this once that he’ll push away plates and keys to pick you up and sit you on the kitchen counters for you to entangle your fingers within his curls, moaning for more as he kisses his way around your neck.

It’s just this once you’ll sleep with him.

—

Lando, like with everything else, is a massive tease. You should complain, but the feeling of warm hands hiking up your t-shirt short circuits your nerves and limits whatever capability you have to bite back, so you take it all; the ghostly touches, trailing kisses along your jaw, and hands wandering from the crux of your neck down to your entrance.

It aches so unfamiliarly, cotton panties are tugged haphazardly to the side and your pussy is wet and overstimulated.

Yes, that’s the word you’ve been looking for. It’s all so overstimulating, the fading pulsations of your last orgasm brought on from having two thick fingers scissoring out of you, the puffiness of your nipples still sensitive from Lando’s ongoing oral fixation, and the feeling of his dick messily slotting itself between folds and up against your clit, it’s all just so much.

“Lando…” You whine, “c’mon.”

He mocks you with a haughty smile, repeating his name shamelessly in a pitch much higher than your own. There’s little to be embarrassed about, yet you feel so exposed, in both a literal and figurative sense. He’s drawn two orgasms out of you with such ease, like your body is as simple to navigate as a track, all without even fucking you properly. Somewhere deep down you’re grateful he’s so observant; it’s a wildly different experience than what you’re used to in every way possible.

“Did you want me to do something? You need to use your words.” He feigns ignorance, like he doesn’t feel the clinging drag of your naked hips against his crotch. Right now, there is nothing nice about Lando—he’s brought you to the edge and left you to plead for him to dig his hands into the meat of your thighs and finally fuck you as promised.

And with eyes barred shut, you do ask for it, muttering a quaint just put it in with a hushed whimper that shoots straight through him, fueling some kind of excessive desire to give it to you straight.

“Lan!” Your instincts to twitch take hold of you when you feel the tip inch into you, stretching you out more than anything else.

“Relax.” He soothes not only you, lazily thumbing your clit to distract your body from the unnerving stretch of him bottoming out, but also himself; there’s a prayer he’s mumbling at the back of his mind, asking for strength to keep him from succumbing to the biting grip your walls welcome him with, he could cum on entry alone. “That feel good?”

It feels great, but you can’t find the words to talk, so you opt for the drawn out whine that amplifies to a full moan when he finds his rhythm. You guess Lando fucks like he races, wild but calculated, hard and fast. His thrusts push you up closer to the headboard, and you think you see stars with each one. Lando’s dilated eyes are focused on the way your boobs move in tandem with his hips, which roll into your own unforgivingly.

If this is what he gets when he does well, he needs to get those wins and that championship, as soon as possible.

“Just like that, Lan.” You exhale out, fingers darting to grapple at his wild brown tufts, “I want more of you. Need it.”

To hear you say you need him, it makes him somewhat insane. His body is eager to close in on your own, lips ghosting over your jaw and inching closer to your ear as a hand gently finds its way to your neck.

“You feel so perfect.” He’s so breathless, practically whining into your ears about just how good you feel, It doesn’t reach you, you’re too focused on feeling every inch of dick buried into you. It feels like he’s mushing up your insides, hitting spongy walls that desperately cling to him. Every thrust is harder than his last, and the way the trimmed hair resting above his base brushes against your clit provides all the extra stimulation that has your head lazily rolling to the side.

You’re not sure when you cum, but you do. It’s wet and his name is hot on your tongue, as if you’re cheering him on to fuck you through your orgasm, and who is he to deny you? Lando’s undoubtedly happy to see the pleasure he’s giving you, his eyes blowing wide at the feeling of his lower abdomen growing soaked by your arousal.

“Look at you,” he marvels, prideful and horny, “ever done that before?”

You haven’t—it freaks you out, yet despite all of your hurried apologies and groans of embarrassment, Lando finds himself dipping his head into the crux of your neck to suppress a groan. You’re so pretty it hurts him, his hips bore deeper into yours, hoping to get closer than humanly possible.

When he kisses you, your legs slither around his waist as if to cage him. You’ll be the death of him—the two of you are playing a dangerous game, and you both know it.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he smiles against your lips, and your body melts like putty, malleable enough for him to pry your legs from its digging into his back and push them closer towards you by your thighs.

His pace noticeably falters when you flutter around him. You’re muttering something about coming inside, pleading for it—but he pays you no mind; you’re intoxicated by the feeling of dopamine, and as much as he would love it, the feeling of stuffing you full, he’s a smarter man than that.

He cums with a guttural fuck, barely managing to rip himself away from your clutches and spill himself onto your stomach—and you just watch, doe eyed and jolted by the warm feeling on your skin. You both pant heavily against one another, until all you can hear is the noise of the London night leaking in from an ajar window.

“Hey.” He lazes out, rubbing circles on your thigh.

“Hi.”

“This can’t—” happen again, get out to anyone—there’s so much he could say, but you would rather not hear it. Not tonight.

“Yeah.”

❀❀

tags: @babyvinnie @leclercdream @im-an-overthinker@ririyulife @1655clean @sukisheadlights @harrysdimple05 @drunkinthemiddleoftheday

(if bolded i couldn’t tag you i’m so sorry!)

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #f1 x female reader #f1 x black!reader #f1 x you

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fireheartwraith · 4 months

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There are a lot of different traditions during Carnaval, but the allegoric cars players have been building are known to be part of the Parade of the Samba Schools, so I thought I'd explain how it works!

For starters, the Parade is a competition. Each team is called a samba school and they have their own flag and history. People can be really hard or die for their teams! Some are connected to soccer teams, like Gaviões da Fiel (the school) is connected to Corinthians. The two main parades (of this type of carnaval) happen in São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro.

Each school has one hour to completely walk across the sambódromo, and in that hour they have to tell a story or message. That is one of the things they are judged on! The criteria are the drums, the samba-enredo (enredo literally means plot, but this is a genre of samba), the evolution (how the story develops), the harmony (is everyone singing together? Do the people in the parade know the lyrics?), the plot itself, the allegoric cars and accessories, the costumes, the opening act, and the mestre-sala and porta-bandeira.

The parade is divided into sections called alas, and each one of them functions as a chapter in the story being told and have their own separate choreography. The first one is the Comissão de Frente (the opening act). They set the tone for the rest of the team and the public, so it’s common to see celebrities here to get the audience hyped.

Another crucial part is the drums. They are setting the beat that everyone is dancing to, so they shouldn’t make any mistakes. To both hype them and keep the pacing is the Rainha da Bateria (the Queen of the Drums). She’s a woman dancing samba in very minimal clothing but very heavy accessories. This is a very prestigious spot, the dream of any passista (this is what the samba dancers are called). Since they are the face of the parade, celebrities are sometimes given the position, and not all of them deserve it.

There are other passistas atop the allegoric cars, but they are not the only type of dancers. There’s the Ala das Baianas (ala of the baiana women): older (usually black but not necessarily) women dancing in traditional clothing. Honestly one of my favorite parts of the parades.

But my favorite part is the mestre-sala and porta-bandeira. There are several throughout the parade, but only the first one is graded. They are a couple: the man is the mestre-sala dancing around the porta-bandeira (literally 'flag carrier'), who dances with the school flag, and wears a big skirt, usually in the school colors. I wanted to be one when I was a kid, they dance doing twirls and it just looked like so much fun.

There are other unnamed alas, of course, and the allegoric cars.

The samba schools are very tied to black history and black communities, so their stories are usually very powerful. Like the year they represented a former president as a blood sucking vampire with the presidential sash, or this year, where they showed a statue of a known slaver graffited and on fire. Seriously, some of these cars are insane, and most of them have moving parts while also being light enough to be pushed or motored across the sambódromo, but sturdy enough to support all the dancers on top of it. A true feat of engineering! See the size of the woman near the statue's feet compared to the whole thing?

Most people celebrate carnaval by going to street parties called "bloco de carnaval" (basically a mini parade with live music), but these huge parade still get a big audience, despite streaming so late at night.

Here's this year's presentation from Vai-Vai if you're curious to see everything in motion! Originally, I had put a link to Estácio de Sá's presentation, but some politicians want to apply sanctions to Vai-Vai because it represented cops as demons. A few days later, a white man attempted to kill a black man, and the black man was arrested despite witnesses telling the cops what really happened. When news broke out, they kept him in prison on claims of "resisting arrest." So, why is it wrong to say cops are devils?

Anyways, the Vai-Vai presentation is about celebrating blackness and black creativity and resilience. Happy Carnaval! The winners this year were Mocidade Alegre in São Paulo and Unidos da Viradouro in Rio de Janeiro. You can look up their presentations if you want to.

youtube

#qsmp #qsmp brasil #brasil #brazil #brazilian #brazilian culture #carnaval #brazilian carnival #Youtube #acab

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tornado1992 · 4 months

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The world does not deserve some things.

It doesn’t deserve destruction, hate or cruelty.

Sonic has known this for quite a while, being some sort of fighter for nature or a so called “protector” of it by a lot of people, he’s not so sure about that though.

Just as the world can be beautiful it can become dreadful, the world gives origin to everything in it, and that everything is part of the world itself.

The people that live in it are the part that shows the contrast the most clearly, just as some inhabitants are kind, take care of each other and enjoy the wonders it has to offer, there was a few of them that seemed to spite everything that wasn’t like them, everything they didn’t like, and everything that wasn’t theirs. Sonic knows that, he’s been fighting that enough time to be named a protector.

All things considered, to him the world still meant kindness, endless opportunities, adventure… and it meant freedom.

Then it meant something else.

Between all his fighting and running, he met and befriended a lot of the ones that called him a hero before he could even process the title, some of them energetic, some hotheaded, and some unbothered, they reminded him that even if there was despair or tragedy, the world he knew and loved was still there.

At least it was there to him.

Getting to know all the world meant getting almost as much deception and anger as happiness, every new place meant new sceneries, new ways, and new people, and he wouldn’t want it any other way. Even if it meant taking all the damage himself, getting to know everything personally was better than blindly trusting anything he was told, he knew it was worth it; he confirmed it when he went through one of the worst parts to find the absolute best one.

The place wasn’t even bad looking, the nature growing harmoniously beside the artificial work, it gave a peaceful kind of vibe, the people seemed kind and respectful, kids playing and chasing each other while adults looked out for them from afar, even welcoming him with open arms not caring if he was a stranger, “a united and caring community”, no sight of conflict or cruelty came to view, they didn’t seemed to have any hate in them. Only kind words and even warm chilli dogs greeted him. He thought this was the kind of place he would fight for.

That thought lasted less than an hour.

It really doesn’t take much longer than 10 minutes to completely change your perspective of a so called perfect community when after thirty minutes of an apparent peaceful environment you notice the sick looking child they suddenly chase down the woods so he doesn’t “steal their food and gives them bad fortune”. Sonic gives them a full minute of doubt, doubt to himself as what he’s hearing and seeing, because that can’t be right, because it must be a mistake. What reason could there be for a kid to “give bad luck”? Why would a kid need to “steal” food? And why would he be called a “curse”?

Some villager takes a long four minutes to explain the reason for all that, falling down to “that mutant was born with two tails”.

Sonic spends the next five minutes looking for the kid, and restraining himself from committing several crimes.

He had to focus, ending a full village’s whole career can wait, what cannot wait is the fox kit that just ran away from a group of kids leaving a trail of blood behind him. Even in the thick forest tundra it’s easy to see the big droplets of blood on the tree branches, the ground, and the tiny bush that kept trembling.

That’s where he found him.

A fox kit, didn’t looked any older than two, but by what he heard he could even be four. He looked way too tiny to be around four.

Big baby blue eyes greet him, a glassy sight, sorrow, confusion and sadness behind them.

The moment the fox noticed the speedster he tried to run, but the bush was too thick around him, and his back was facing a big tree log, he was trapped, the kid flinched every time he moved towards him, whined whenever Sonic rose to stand, and even started silently tearing up while curling around his tiny bruised body when he tried to reach for him. This kid thought Sonic wanted to hurt him.

How much does a kid has to suffer for his first reaction to some one approaching him being to cry, tremble and try to protect themselves?

Sonic can’t decide what enrages him more, the matted brown fur that surely must mean a long time without proper care for it, the bruised skinny body that trembled every few seconds as if it couldn’t stand by itself, the obviously recent bleeding nose that made the fox kit whimper every time he breathed, or the so clear loud sound of an empty stomach.

This was the result of long period of abuse and neglect, and by the way the kid hugged his twin tails while crying, Sonic would even call it torture.

Sonic couldn’t help him without getting close to him, but the kit wouldn’t let him near him without flinching. Putting the kid through more distress was not an option, but leaving him alone wasn’t one either, and the kid needed help, so he stayed. Sitting beside the trembling bush, taking watch in case some of those hollow hearted villagers came back while thinking of a way of helping the kid.

This is not the kind of help Sonic is used to offer, but he cannot just leave the kit alone. Even if he didn’t know anything about taking care of younger kids, even if his first aid kit was almost empty in his plane far away from him, even if the fox cried at the very sight of him, Sonic won’t leave him alone.

He doesn’t remember feeling like this before. Frustrating, he remembers some adults calling it, a feeling of helplessness, anger, and even sadness that consumes one self through the impossibility of effective action, in his case, the impossibility of helping.

And so he found himself, frustrated, sitting on the forest ground while rubbing his eyes with his hand, who knew, frustration is stressful; he kept at that for a few long minutes, until he felt a slight touch in his back. Finding those big blue eyes when he turned his head, a tiny gloveless paw patting him gently, careful with his quills but yet touching them, trying to comfort him.

This kid could barely stand, was obviously scared, at the verge of tears, and hurting from the beating the other kids gave him; and he was trying to make Sonic feel better.

It was clear now, they didn’t seemed to have any hate in them because they put all the cruelty and hatred in a kid, an innocent, tiny, and so kind hearted kid. The same village that greeted Sonic with kind words and offered him warm food was willing to let a literal toddler starve, if he wasn’t killed by the village’s youngest inhabitants first. All over something that wasn’t even bad, it wasn’t even his fault.

That won’t do.

Looking less distressed than before but still trembling wasn’t an ideal state to approach the twin tailed kit, but again, the kid needed help, the most urgent now being probably first aid, but Sonic sadly knew that the thing that would calm down the kid more would be something to eat.

Sonic offered him a smile, an attempt to soothe him, standing as slowly as he could not to scare the kid, and running as fast as his legs allowed him to return with four chili dogs was the game plan, managing to startle the kid a little bit with his rushed return, with the most difficult part of the plan being convincing the kid that the food was for him, that he could eat, that it wouldn’t hurt him, that Sonic wouldn’t hurt him.

Words might be useful to communicate that, but they just might, this kid was obviously casted away from society, who knew since when, he might not even understand him, well, if he used words that is, for now he hopes his smile would do (that and him eating a chili dog himself so the kit would know it’s safe).

It took a while, but it seemed like the fox’s empty stomach finally convinced him to eat, his hands trembling as he grabbed the supper, eyes getting a different kind of teary as he took his first bite, his twin tails wagging as he devoured his second chili dog.

Sonic wasn’t much of a baby person, sure they were cute and all he didn’t saw the big deal, all babies were the same. But seeing this little kid, a hurt toddler, starting to smile and wet his eyes over something as simple as warm food.. while a part of him was burning with rage, another part of him couldn’t help but think that he wanted to see this kid truly smile.

He wonders how could anyone see this kid with anything but love.

So he stayed around him, always with a smile, but even bandages, chili dogs, and big smiles couldn’t help much with the kids perspective of the word, much less the perception of himself.

The only world the fox knew before Sonic was a merciless one, rejection, hate and cruelty being its main traits, with bad people who would hunt him down, hit him and hurt him because he was the bad one, just for existing in the same time and place as all of them, but not being the same as them. He believed he really was the bad one for some time.

Sonic wouldn’t allow that for any longer, so he took the best part of the world with him and never planned to return it.

His life wasn’t the ideal deal for a toddler, he couldn’t give him a traditional family structure, a roof over his head, or a warm bed, but he also didn’t trusted anyone else to take care of him, he didn’t trusted the world to take care of him. So he would take the job himself, this kid wouldn’t go a day without warm food, he would never lack shelter, and as long as Sonic was around, he would always protect him.

But Sonic still was a hero.

Sonic fought and ran, ran and fought, and when the running and fighting from him alone seemed like not enough, the kit didn’t even doubted risking his own life to help him.

After a life of suffering, as little and scared as he was, at barely four years old, he still wanted to protect the world that wronged him.

The world doesn’t deserve this kid.

But it was the world itself that gave Sonic the title of protector, guardian, and hero; he knows there are things worth fighting for, far more than the things that wouldn’t deserve any kind of protection.

He won’t deny the title, ever.

Because even if some day everything around him comes down, everyone gets mad and bad, and his own hope is questioned, he’ll still have a reason to fight.

After all, this kid is his world.

#miles tails prower #sonic the hedgehog #sonic and tails #unbreakable bond #they are cosmic truth #wholesome sonic and tails wednesday #wsatw #sth #he loves this kid #kinda based on thatbirdguy s tails ratify au #tailsratifyau #can still be read as the regular canon #tried to make it ambiguous enough but still put some references in there #their art so good u gotta see it #the bros #and remember they are each other’s world #baby miles tails prower #baby tails #they are brothers your honor

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themodernwitchsguide · 9 months

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the egyptian gods

MA'AT: the essence of harmony and balance

in the beginning, well, there were a lot of different beginnings,

AMUN/AMUN-RA: god of the sun and air, supreme king of the gods in some periods. some stories say that he created himself and then everything else in the universe

ATUM: sometimes considered another name for Ra, but when separated he represents the evening sun. he was the first of the Ennead to emerge from Nu, and was the supreme ruler of the gods, and creator of the universe and human beings

RA/RE: when separated from Atum, he represents the midday sun, but other stories say that his aspect changes as he advances his sun barge across the sky. also considered the supreme ruler and creator of the universe. later merged with Amun as he rose in popularity

PTAH: another creator of the universe, Ptah was lord of truth, and the patron god of sculptors and craftsmen (since he was considered to have sculpted the earth). he created the first mound of earth from Nu by imagining it in his heart and breathed life into things with his voice

KHNUM: said to have created everything on his potter's wheel. in a different story he created humans on his potter's wheel then raised them up to the sun so that Ra could breathe life into them

NEITH: a war and funerary goddess, she created all things from her innards. she invented birth, therefore considered the "mother goddess" and closely associated with life and living things

MUT: emerged from Nu and gave birth to the world on her own, or in other stories was the wife of Amun. she was a goddess of protection, guarding humans in life, and against demons in death

MEHET-WERET: celestial cow goddess that emerged from Nu and gave birth to Ra at the beginning of time. goddess of water, creation, and rebirth

then under Atum/Ra creation stories, there were the first gods, called the Ennead,

SHU: the primordial god of air, he was born from Atum/Ra with his sister Tefnut to create the world. it's said that after bein gone for so long, Atum/Ra sent the eye of Ra to search for them, and his tears of happiness at having them returned became humans

TEFNUT: the sister and wife of Shu, she was the primordial god of moisture and rainfall

NUT: child of Shu and Tefnut, she represented the sky, but her relationship with her brother Geb disturbed Atum/Ra so he pushed her high above Geb, decreeing that she could not give birth on any day of the year. however, Thoth then gambled with Iah (or Khonsu) winning five days of moonlight he transformed into days. On those five days, her five children were born

GEB: god of the earth and growing things

OSIRIS: child of Nut and Geb, he was lord and god of the underworld and afterlife. he was said to be the first god to die, after being killed by his brother Set, wherein Isis then resurrected him and they bore Horus.

ISIS: child of Nut and Geb, she was the goddess of the moon, healing, fertility, and magic

NEPHTHYS: child of Nut and Geb, she is the twin sister of Isis and wife of Set. she is considered a goddess of funeral rites, darkness (not in an evil sense), and protector of women.

SET/SETH: child of Nut and Geb god of war, chaos, and storms. although he was the first murderer, he was considered a necessary balance to the good of Osiris. he killed Osiris to usurp his throne, only to later be usurped by Horus.

However, sometimes Set was replaced with Horus in the Ennead,

HORUS: technically there were two Horuses, Horus the Elder, who was a child of Nut and Geb, and Horus the younger, who was the better known Horus. however, they ended up merging into one deity, a god of the sun, sky, and kingship

under the Amun (and sometimes Ptah) creation myth(s) there was the group called the Ogdoad, including Amun and

AMUNET: the female counterpart of Amun, together they represented forces unseen, including the wind and air

KEK: the god of the hours before dawn, he guided the sun barge of Ra from the underworld to earth

KAUKET: the female aspect of Kek, she represented the hours after sunset, and guided the sun barge of Ra into the underworld. Together these gods represent darkness (but not in an evil way)

HEH AND HAUHET: often not separated in any meaningful way, these two were the gods of infinity, eternity, and time

NUN AND NAUNET: personification of the primordial waters, from which everything was created. Naunet is only ever referenced when it comes to the Ogdoad

However, when Amun became revered as a god of creation, him and Amunet were sometimes replaced by

NIA AND NIAT: gods of the void

so then the rest of the gods,

THOTH: advisor of Atum/Ra, he was the god of wisdom, writing, and truth, and was associated with the moon. sometimes he is the child of Atum/Ra, other times he is the son of Horus. he gave humanity the gift of language and marked the passage of time

SESHAT: consort of Thoth, she was the goddess of writing, books, and measurements

ANUBIS: son of Nephthys and Osiris, he was the god of the dead and associated with embalming. he leads the souls of the dead to the Hall of Truth and weighs their heart to determine if they were good or evil

KABECHET/QEBEHT: daughter of Anubis and a funerary deity. she provides cool, pure water to the souls awaiting judgement in the Hall of Truth

BASTET: daughter of Ra, although her image has tempered over time, Bastet was often considered a defender of pharaohs and the hearth. goddess of cats, women, and fertility

SEKHMET: sister of Bastet, she was goddess of destruction, justice, and desert winds. after Ra became tired of the sins of humanity, he sent Sekhmet to destroy them. she ravaged the land until the other gods implored Ra to stop her, where he took beer dyed red (to emulate blood) and left it at Dendera. when she drank it, she fell asleep and woke as the benevolent goddess Hathor

MAAHES: solar god and protector of the innocent, sometimes the son of Bastet, sometimes Sekhmet

HATHOR: goddess of joy, celebration, love, women, drunkenness, and sometimes animals. in some stories she is the wife of Horus the elder, in some Horus the younger, and in some Ra

MA'AT: embodiment of the principle of ma'at, she was the goddess of truth, justice, and harmony

KHONSU: the son of Amun and Mut, god of the moon and healing

MONTU: a god of war and the vitality of pharaohs, he was later replaced by Khonsu as a child of Amun and Mut

TENENIT: goddess of beer and brewing, consort of Montu

HEKA: patron god of magic and medicine, but was also said to be present at the creation of the universe

HU: god of the spoken word, personification of the first word Atum/Ra ever spoke. represented the tongue

SIA: personification of perception and thoughtfulness who represented the heart

ANAT: goddess of fertility, sexuality, love, and war. sometimes she is a virgin goddess, others she is sensuous and erotic

APEP/APOPHIS: the celestial serpent that would assault the sun barge of Ra every night as it travels through the underworld

BA-PEF: god of terror

BES/BISU/AHA: god of childbirth, fertility, sexuality, humor, and war. he protected women and children, fended off evil, and fought for divine justice

TAWERET/TAURET: considered a consort of Set, goddess of childbirth and fertility. guarded children and invoked to help with pregnancy and birth

HRAF-HAF: the ferryman of the dead, he would carry good souls across the Lily Lake to the shores of paradise in the Field of Reeds

AMENET: consort of the divine ferryman, she welcomed souls of the dead to afterlife with food and drink

FETKET: cupbearer of Ra, patron of bartenders

MAFDET: goddess of justice, protected people from venomous bites, later replaced by Serket

SERKET: goddess of protection and funerals, protected people against venom

HEDET: goddess of scorpions and protector against their venom

IHY: son of Hathor and Horus the elder, he was the god of music and joy

IMHOTEP: the deified vizier of the king Djoser, god of wisdom and medicine

MESKHENIT: goddess of childbirth, created a person's ka (life force) and breathed it into them, creating their destiny

NEHEBKAU: joined a persons ka to their body at birth, and with the ba (winged aspect of the soul) at death. has always existed, and swam in the primordial waters before Atum rose

NEFERTUM: god of perfume and beauty, said to be born from the bud of a blue lotus flower at the beginning of creation. associated with rebirth and transformation due to his association with Atum

RENENUTET: goddess of nursing children and the harvest. she determined the length of a person's life and the important events that would occur, sometimes considered the mother of Osiris as consort of Atum

NEPER: son of Renenutet, god of grain and fertility

ONURIS/ANHUR: a son of Ra, god of war and hunting

SHAY: personification of fate, no one could alter her decisions

SHED: god who protected against wild animals and mortal enemies

SHEZMU: god of wine, perfume and plenty

SOBEK: god of water and medicine, namely surgery. lord of marshes and wetlands

SOTHIS/SOPDET: astral form of Isis, represented the star Sirius

SAH: astral form of Osiris, represented the constellation Orion

SOPDU: son of Sothis and Sah, astral form of Horus, guarded over outposts and soldiers on the frontier

TAYET/TAIT: goddess of weaving and associated with embalming

WENEG: held up the sky and maintained balance between the heavens and earth

WEPWAWET: the "opener of ways," a funerary and hunter god

KHENTYAMENTIU: the "Chief of the Dead," a funerary god believed to have created important funerary rites

and the sons of Horus, who get their own special spot,

DUAMUTEF: protector god of the stomach, he represented East

HAPY: protector god of the lungs, he represented the North

IMSETY: protector god of the liver, he represented the South

QEBEHSENUEF: protector god of the intestines, he represented the West

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humanheartharmonia · 8 months

Text

Headspace tips: Feeling yourself rather than the body

Note: This guide is geared toward systems who already have a headspace and wish to work through difficulty with accessing it. I do not have a guide for creating a headspace, but there are guides for that out there!

In addition, this guide may not work as well for systems with aphantasia as it relies heavily on visualization.

If you struggle with accessing your system's headspace, here are some tips that you could try to gain a better connection to it. It is best if you can get another member to guide you through this process, but it may also work alone. It's also best if you are alone and able to speak aloud without having people questioning what you are saying, and have a decent amount of time (I'd say about an hour, that's how long it took for Kiki and I to make significant progress.)

1. Feel your internal body. Specifically, feel what makes you you. This will probably feel like imagination, and that's okay. (A lot of times, headspace feels like imagination. It can be hard to tell the two apart.) If you have horns, feel your horns. If you have a different length or texture of hair, run your fingers through it. If you have a different body type, feel your curves and edges. If you're of a different species with a different body plan altogether, flex your limbs (if applicable), feel your joints (if applicable) and feel the way your body interacts with gravity. Take as much time as you need to get attuned to your internal body.

2. Narrate your actions. You can narrate mentally, but as I was going through this with her, Kiki found it much easier to narrate with our physical body's voice. "I am touching my horns." "I am touching my nose." "I am touching my arms." "I am standing up." [Kiki's addition: It helps if you repeat it a lot! Repetition helps solidify neural pathways, so it can actually make this easier in the future.]

3. Open your eyes to what's around you. It's okay if all you can see is a void. Over time, try to notice if there is anything around you. Does it feel familiar? This is where having another system member around can help the most, because they can feel where you are as well and help you figure out where it is.

4. Narrate what you can see or sense. "There is a hard floor beneath me. I am standing on it. It is dark. There is no furniture." Look around, how much detail is everything in? Is it vague or well-defined? Can you feel anyone nearby, perhaps the companion that may be helping you? Again, it's totally fine to repeat your narration several times to solidify it in your head. If you have a companion, you can even talk to them about it!

5. Do something. Perhaps it is something as simple as walking around. If there are objects around you, you might also want to interact with those objects. At this point, you can just do whatever you please to further connect with your headspace. Your intuition is best. [Kiki: I'm just going to walk around the basement, which seems to be the origin point of the headspace, and explore the town that surrounds it! I already explored a bit with Harmony but I want to do some on my own as well.]

If you have any questions, feel free to ask, though keep in mind that Kiki and I literally just came up with this process and finished it about 20 minutes ago, I am mostly posting it to remember how we did it and to pass along this knowledge to the community.

#headspace #innerworld #plurality #pluralgang #pro endo #endo safe #plural system #system stuff #system guide

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 5 months

Text

back in town

part one of home for christmas

natasha romanoff x reader

The hallmark movie inspired Christmas story that nobody asked for.

Natasha Romanoff fell out of love with Christmas, but perhaps a certain someone could help her find the festive magic once again.

Coming home to her small hometown from her life in New York City, the children’s author is reunited with the people of her past; some are happier to see her than others.

But, will rekindled relationships inspire the Christmas story she’s struggling to write? Or will she go home empty handed?

fluff, lots of Christmas, hallmark movie cringe

for the sake of this fic, all characters are the same kind of age; ≈mid 20s

wc: 1.4k | part two

Serving customers their coffee has been an opportunity for a moment of peace lately. Wanda, as well as the remainder of your insufferable friends, had taken it upon themselves to set you up on dates. Somehow, their lack of success so far hasn’t managed to convince them of their matchmaking deficits.

So, during work hours, you’re bombarded with suggestions to which you decline time and time again. Apparently, being the Christmas season and all, it was a matter of extreme importance; the so-called ‘Christmas magic’ had to have a source of focus and, according to them, that was you.

You’d tried; the amount of boring and unsuccessful dates you’ve embarked on is almost embarrassing. You’ve had short lived relationships, fleeting flings, and so many blind dates you can’t even count them with all ten fingers. But none of them were right for you. None of the options were worthy to ‘cuddle up with by the fireplace’ or ‘entwine souls with beside a decorated tree’. Wanda had an optimistic take on your love life - you’d all be lying if you didn’t call her obsessed.

“C’mon, that girl in the bookstore was totally obsessed with you,” she spoke as soon as the customer in front of you had left with a smile and a cup of coffee in their hand.

“Wanda, please,” you groaned, busying yourself with the messed up counter, wiping down the surface hoping it’d will her away.

“She could be the one.”

“You say that about all of them,” you huffed with a laugh. She truly was a hopeless romantic. You hypothosise her obsession with your romantic endeavours is some haphazardly disguised attempt to draw away her own infatuation with a certain bookstore owner. It’s no coincidence you’re both in there so often and it’s definitely not because you have a crush on anybody there.

“Maybe this one’s different.”

“You always say that too,” you laughed. “What about you anyway? How about we get you a date with that woman you ogle, huh?”

“What woman? There isn’t a woman,” she defended, you saw right through her.

“The one that likes to give you discount on all those books you buy and never read. Agatha, is it?”

“Oh, look, you have a customer. I better get more coffee from the back,” she hurried out before rushing away.

Luckily your best friend seemed to have taken the hint for the time being and the next couple of hours passed with you working in your regular harmony.

“That man is always late, I swear,” Wanda spoke with a glance at the clock. Sam was meant to be in for his shift twenty minutes ago, though you find his lack of punctuality to be an endearing trait. And, as though his ears were burning, the man in question burst through the wreath-decorated door with quickened breaths from what you assumed to be a sprint into work.

“You will never guess who I just bumped into,” he shouted to you both as he pulled his coat off to replace it with the coffee shop apron.

“Santa?” Wanda grinned with an excitement an adult likely shouldn’t present herself with at the prospect.

“Better.”

“Nobody’s better than Santa,” she pouted.

“If it wasn’t an old guy in a red hat you’re gonna have a real sad boss to deal with,” you responded with a laugh.

“Well now I don’t wanna say,” he answered with a chuckle of his own.

“You can’t lead with that and not tell us,” Wanda countered with a poke to his arm.

“Natasha Romanoff.”

“You’re kidding.”

The pair of you answered him at the same time, a mirrored disapproval in your tones.

“Nope. She’s here for the holidays.”

“What, New York’s not good enough for her anymore?” you uttered in annoyance, rolling your eyes before plastering on an appeasing smile to the customer that approached.

“I didn’t think the small town Christmas vibe fit her new Scrooge persona,” Wanda added with an equally annoyed voice.

“I dunno, I didn’t talk to her much, I came to tell you two. You know I like the gossip,” Sam answered with a smile, though he wasn’t so pleased with her appearance either.

“You can put your matchmaking shit on hold,” you stated. “All focus is now on ‘operation avoid Romanoff’.”

“Mission accepted as long as you come up with a better title,” Wanda returned. “A Christmas themed one.”

—

“Oh my God, I need to tell you all who I saw in town this afternoon,” Kamala practically squealed as she took her seat in the booth with the rest of the group. A girl’s night out at the local bar was a no brainer after the news.

“Let me guess,” Monica voiced. “Red hair, expensive suit, kinda scary, and a knack for ghosting certain people?” She added, tapping her chin with her face contorted into one of faux musing and a pointed look towards you with her final words.

“Pretty good at breaking poor innocent hearts?” Carol added with a teasing nudge to your shoulder to lighten your mood.

“She didn’t break my heart,” you scoffed.

“Just stomped on it a little,” Kate said with the same joking tone - if there was one thing you adored your friends for it was their way of making even awful situations fell a little less dire.

“Poked at it with her expensive stilettos,” Wanda added.

“Oh, so I’m the last to know,” Kamala sighed. “That’s cool, I guess. Not that I wanted to come in here with big, dramatic news or anything.”

“No, please, go on,” you laughed. “Who was it that you saw?”

“Natasha. Romanoff,” she exclaimed with all the dramatic flare she’d hoped to achieve. And, of course, you all gasped just as you knew she’d enjoy.

“You’re kidding,” you deadpanned.

“I know!”

“I’m gonna get us some more drinks,” Kate spoke as she stood up. “No gossip whilst I’m gone, you know all the drama gets my blood up.”

And so you all talked. And talked. And talked. Every detail of your relationship - or lack thereof - was explored. Her departure and the toll it took on you was examined and you remembered just how grateful you’ve always been for their support, they’re truly the best friendship group you ever could’ve asked for.

“Oh my God.”

The phrase was grumbled out by the three of you positioned in the line of sight of the door, the faces of you, Carol and Wanda all laced with discontent at the sight.

“Alright, look behind you but be subtle,” Carol instructed. “I’m talking to you, Kamala.”

It started off discreetly to begin with, Monica glanced over her shoulder with a scoff at the image behind her. Kate, somehow, was just as discreet but, of course, Kamala being Kamala an obnoxiously loud gasp followed her gawking. It drew the attention of those at the eye of the display you were staring at and two pairs of eyes looked back at you.

“What a surprise,” Yelena grinned as she approached with her sister in tow.

“Yelena, you were literally invited,” you grumbled. “You said you had plans.”

“There’s been a change in plans,” she shrugged, clearly amused at the awkward situation she was dragging you into. “My dear sister and I are joining you.”

“I’ll get more drinks,” Natasha mumbled. The first words you’d heard from her in years and she kept her eyes everywhere but directed towards you; something about the way she still buries her hands in her coat pockets when she’s nervous stirred up a stinging familiarity.

“Lena, what the hell?” Wanda whispered when the blonde smugly took her seat in the already crammed booth.

“What?” she shrugged, feigning obliviousness at her clearly deliberate actions. “It’s Christmas, even the grinch needs a drink.”

Speaking of, the redheaded grinch in question approached with a tray of drinks and an awkward yet fleeting smile gifted to you when she pulled a chair up to the end of the table. To your surprise, she even held your gaze as she slid your glass over to you though you couldn’t muster much more than an almost inaudible thank you.

“So, you’re back,” Carol spoke, leaning forwards with her arms resting on the table.

And that began the awkward evening. There was an obvious tension between the pair of you; Natasha answered any questions she was asked and you pretended not to notice the way she’d steal looks at you over the edge of her glass. You, however, barely spoke.

How do you talk to the woman that left you behind? Especially when she comes back into town looking even more perfect than before; you scold your lustful eyes for tearing your mind apart.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff #marvel fanfic #au: home for christmas

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bradshawssugarbaby · 6 months

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Home For Christmas - Jake Seresin x OC

A/N: This is my entry for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Writing Challenge, with the trope childhood friends. I was watching a lot of romcoms last night and felt inspired, it's definitely heavily influenced by 13 Going on 30, Just Friends + Sweet Home Alabama. (I realize only one of those is set in the winter, but I digress). I'm debating a part two/epilogue as well, if anyone is interested! Also super proud of this one, because it's the longest fic I've ever written.

pairing: Jake Seresin x OC

warnings/content: none, lots of fluff and pining. Jake's been promoted to Captain. Probably a lot of inaccuracies.

word count: 7.7k (literally my longest one yet, I'm sorry)

tagging anyone who might be interested: @littleenglishfangirl, @floydsmuse, @sailor-aviator, @mamachasesmayhem 🤍

December, 1999

“Jake! Jake, wait up!”

“Run faster then, I gotta get home before the street lights come on or my mama’s gonna be so mad she won’t let you come over tomorrow!”

“Jake, your mama’s not gonna say no to me comin’ over and you know it.”

“Jenna, how you ever gonna keep up with me when I join the navy and start having to run a few miles every day?”

Jake turned around to face you for a moment, running backwards with a grin plastered on his face, his baby-faced cheeks red from the cold, his green eyes full of mischief as he watched you try and keep up with him. His sandy blonde hair stuck out slightly from underneath his Dallas Cowboys baseball cap, a handmedown from his older brother that he rarely left home without since Matt had given it to him. He stopped running, placing his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, the cold air stinging his throat as he panted. You finally managed to close the distance between the two of you, raising an eyebrow as you panted, your own cheeks ruddy from the combination of cold winter air and physical activity.

You and Jake had been best friends as long as you could remember. In eleven years, you couldn’t name a single time where the two of you had as much as had a disagreement, or went more than a few hours without talking to one another. Your mothers had been best friends in high school, and you two were destined to be best friends since birth - born four days apart in the same hospital, living on the same street and having your first play date at 10 and 7 days old. Jake was four days older than you, and he never let you forget it when it came to matters where age or maturity played a role. However, where Jake had four days more experience in the world, you had multitudes more experience in dealing with hardship than any eleven-year-old child should have.

Where Jake had the picture-perfect family - a mom, a dad, an older sister, an older brother and him, all living in perfect harmonious happiness, never as much as a doubt as to whether or not there was love in his household, you had the opposite. An absent father, an only child, and a mother who worked two jobs to try and make life better for the two of you, you spent almost every waking minute with Jake and his family, not only as an escape to experience the happy, blissfully carefree life he lived, but also, as a favour to your mother, with Mrs. Seresin often volunteering to care for you when your mother had to work late or work on weekends.

You were at the Seresin home almost every night, with Jake’s mother fussing over her best friend’s daughter, helping her lifelong friend however she could in guiding her little girl, you acting as the surrogate daughter that part of her had always wanted. Jake’s father trying to fill in the blanks where your father had lacked - offering to coach sports teams and including you in games of catch with Jake and his brother, taking you and the boys to get new baseball gloves or soccer cleats when needed, taking the three of you for ice cream after a big achievement in life. Jake’s 16 year old sister, Bethany, would take time to do your hair in the mornings before school whenever she had a chance, offering to do it in all the fun styles she and her friends wore, the kind you were often envious of, passing you old tubes of lip gloss she had lingering around in her backpack on your way to school, encouraging you to use them to your hearts content. Even Matt, who at 14, thought his brother and his brother’s friends were the most irritating beings in existence, had offered you old sports jerseys of his that no longer fit, teasing you the same way he’d tease Jake, treating you like the little sister he never had.

Until this past summer, you found yourself wishing most days that Jake’s family would just adopt you, let your mother move in with them and the two of you could just officially be a part of their fun, bustling family that served as your cheerful escape from life. However, when elementary school ended in June with middle school looming around the corner, Bethany had pulled you aside to talk to you about the transition between schools.

“You know, middle school is…different. It’s not bad. It’s just…things change sometimes. You and Jake might start going on dates with people from school, and it might change your relationship. It happens,” She’d said matter of factly, not mincing words as she shrugged her shoulders, fixing her frosted eyeshadow in the mirror before turning to face you again.

“You might even develop feelings for each other.”

At the time, her words didn’t hold meaning for you. You and Jake had been best friends since Jake was four days old. Your moms were best friends. You practically lived in their home. There was no way things could change between you. You could never have a crush on Jake. He was Jake, the boy who would hide under his mama’s kitchen table with you and a flashlight, swapping baseball cards with one another, the boy who, when you were six-years-old, you’d witnessed eat an entire package of Oreos, then laughed at as he proceeded to throw up an hour later from the sheer volume of chocolate-vanilla sandwich cookies he’d consumed that day. Jake could never be someone you’d have a crush on. He was your best friend. That would never change.

It was two weeks later when Jake had been on the baseball diamond, pitching an inning of Little League with you in the stands watching on. His baseball cap had been flipped backwards to mimic one of his favourite major league players, his green eyes narrowing in concentration with every pitch he threw out. His golden blonde hair poked out the front of his baseball cap, much like it was doing today, on this cold January evening. His focus was on nothing but baseball, while yours was on everything but when it came to him. When he happened to look your way during the game, you felt a weird feeling in your stomach - a bubbling sensation, like nerves that couldn’t be settled. Your cheeks flushed, turning a pale pink as they became warm to the touch, reddening slightly as you felt Bethany’s gaze fall on you, a grin forming on her face as you proved her right about how your feelings were evolving for Jake.

Since that day, you’d found yourself continuing to crush on him, each day your feelings grew deeper and more intense than the day before. At this point, you almost swore you could see yourself marrying him one day. You had to admit, you knew everything there was to know about him, you always had fun with him, and he was always happy to see you - you were convinced you two could be as happy and as in love as his parents were someday when you and Jake got older. You’d never tell Jake, you just hoped and prayed that he’d realize one day that he felt the same way about you as you felt about him. You knew there was always the chance that it might not happen, but you didn’t want to think about that. In fact, as far as you were concerned, you hoped that there was never a day where Jake didn’t love you as wholeheartedly as your little eleven year old self loved him.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

Present Day

“Jake, please, come back. I miss you,”

“I miss you too, Jenna, I’m coming home to you. It’s always been you.”

The ear-piercing screech of your phone’s alarm blared from your nightstand, interrupting your dream as it screamed at you. You rolled over in bed, groaning as you clumsily stuck your hand out, feeling around on the wooden side table for your phone to silence it and allow yourself a few more moments of peace and quiet before you had to start your day. The last think you wanted right now was to let this dream slip away on you - it was the closest you’d ever find yourself to Jake professing his love for you after all these years, and you clung to it whenever it cropped up in your mind as you slept.

Jake had always been the one-who-got-away for you. You spent your entire middle school years trying to hide your feelings for him, refusing to break until he said how he felt first. You were 13 when he got his first girlfriend, Tiffany Donaldson, a girl in your class. Tiffany was pretty and popular, something that you couldn’t claim for yourself in either case - growing up with Jake, you were seen as more of a teammate or a sister-figure than anything else, despite his sister’s best efforts to help you shake that connection somewhat. After Tiffany, you two had begun high school, and Jake made the football team, and the baseball team. As the school’s star runningback and starting pitcher for the varsity team, Jake was popular beyond words. No one could hold a candle to him, and as his popularity soared because of his athletic prowess in school, you faded further and further back into obscurity, the limelight falling from you and onto someone new each time Jake began dating another girl. Eventually, by the time graduation rolled around, you and Jake had all but fallen out of touch with each other outside of family get-togethers shared between your mothers.

You had just worked up the courage to tell him your feelings at the graduation party Jake’s parents had thrown for you both, convincing yourself that it was perfect timing - Jake had accepted an offer at the University of Texas at Austin, keeping close to home as he planned to study finance, his secret talent having always been math. You’d accepted an offer to study communications at the same school, and with both of you remaining local, it would be the perfect time to tell him how you felt and attempt a relationship with him, or so you thought.

Before the words could even leave your mouth, Jake was excitedly pulling you aside at the party, stopping outside of his childhood bedroom, the place where the two of you had often played as kids. His green eyes were full of excitement as he looked at you, causing your heart to race as butterflies fluttered in your stomach, making it hard to concentrate on his words. You almost didn’t hear him when he spoke, you were so transfixed on him. If the news had been anything else, you probably wouldn’t have even registered what he’d said the first time. You could still hear the excitement in his voice as he told you his news, and still feel the ache in the pit of your stomach as his words fell on your ears.

“I got accepted! I’m going to the Naval Academy, Jenna, can you believe it? I’m going to serve in the Navy, just like I always wanted. I’m going to be the best aviator they’ve ever seen. Just you watch.”

Jake’s voice was practically buzzing with excitement as he’d told you his news, and it took everything you had in you to not fall apart as he spoke. While you knew he’d always dreamed of being a naval aviator, as long as you could remember, the news hit you like a ton of bricks, unexpected and hard as it rendered you speechless, leaving you nodding your head and smiling like an idiot while inside you wanted nothing more than to scream out how you felt. You knew this could never work out between you now. Your chance was gone, moving away to Maryland and joining the Navy before you’d even had a second to realize what was happening when he spoke.

That was 17 years ago, and the moment still haunted you from time to time, more than you’d like to admit to anyone. At first, you’d kept in touch with Jake and his family, seeing Jake when he came home for holidays and such at first, but then, as you and Jake began entering your first romantic relationships as adults, you found yourselves including each other less and less in your lives. With each boyfriend you had, you realized more and more that you could never love them the way you loved Jake -he’d always be your first love, regardless of how he felt in return. When Jake graduated, he’d been stationed at NAS Lemoore, swapping Maryland for California. You’d still hear the odd update from your mother, who remained in touch with Jake’s parents, but otherwise, you didn’t ask much about Jake’s adult life. You knew he’d never married, that he’d become a Top Gun graduate, and held true to his word about becoming one of the greatest fighter pilots in the United States Navy, but other than that, you knew little about his life now. Last you had heard, last Christmas, he’d been stationed in San Diego.

You sat up in bed, yawning and stretching your body out before heaving a heavy sigh and shaking your head to rid yourself of thoughts of Jake. You were preparing for a trip back home to Texas for the holidays, spending three weeks back with your mother, part of you wishing and longing for Jake to be visiting his family at the same time, while the other part of you prayed he was staying in California or serving a tour so he wouldn’t be able to be there while you were. It had been close to 15 years since you’d seen him, and the last thing you needed was to be reminded of how you strongly you felt. You didn’t need the help from seeing him. The memories of him were more than enough to keep you clinging on.

Your phone rang and with bleary eyes, you picked it up, pressing the green button to answer the call.

“Good morning, sweetheart!” Your mother practically sang out in a voice that was far too cheerful for anyone to have at this hour.

“Hi mama, what’s up? My flight doesn’t land until this evening.”

“Well, I was talking to Mrs. Seresin about Jake, Matt and Bethany…” Your mother’s voice trailed off as she spoke, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat at the mention of Jake.

“Mhmm?” You responded as you stood up, balancing the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you folded a sweatshirt and set it down neatly on the bed, waiting to be packed.

“It turns out both of us are having our kids home for Christmas! Bethany’s coming down from Dallas with her husband and their little ones, and Matt’s coming from Oklahoma City with his fiancee, and Jake’s flying in on leave from California. He’s made his way up to Captain now, you know, Jenna. He’s made quite the career for himself.”

“Mama, I don’t need a sales pitch on why Jake Seresin is the perfect man for me, ok? He hasn’t seen me in years. He probably wouldn’t even recognize me if he saw me.”

“You never know. But I expect you to dress nicely for their Christmas party. You and I have been invited to join them, and I already said you would gladly be attending.”

“Of course you did. So Jake will be there, then?”

“I think his flight lands just before yours does today, actually. His mama and I were actually discussing if we should just carpool together to pick you both up like back when you two were in school together. Remember that? We used to take turns carting you kids back and forth from home to school.”

“I remember, mama. Don’t worry.”

“Anyway…we were talking and it turns out, Jake happens to be single.”

“Mama, why would I care that Jake’s single?” You replied, trying to sound as level-headed as possible.

“Please, Jenna. You really think I don’t know about this crush of yours you’ve been harbourin’ for years?” You could hear the laughter in your mother’s tone as she spoke, and it stung, almost as though your feelings had betrayed you.

“Mama! I haven’t had a crush on Jake in years. Not since he left for the Navy.”

“Of course not…just, do me a favour? Wear something nice for that Christmas party, ok?”

“Sure, Mama, whatever you say.”

You finished the conversation with your mother and let out an exasperated sigh as you tossed your phone onto your bed beside you. You had to be at the airport in three hours, leaving you little time to completely reconfigure your wardrobe for the next few weeks at home in Austin. Peering into your closet, scanning the items as they sat on wire hangers in the tiny space, you frowned, realizing that nothing was worthy of a reunion with Jake after all these years. At the back of the closet, you found a black, form-fitting sweater dress that you hadn’t worn in years, but, as you held it up to yourself in the mirror, you figured it could work. Part of you hoped this reunion could be the thing that’d remind Jake of what he was missing out on for the last 17 years.

As you finished packing your suitcase, you zipped it closed with a sigh, shaking your head as you tried to calm your nerves before getting yourself ready for your flight. There was a chance you could see Jake at the airport, and you knew you had to look your best, just in case.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

The flight from Chicago to Austin was the most painful three hours of your life. You tried to focus your attention on anything but Jake, but every movie saved on your phone, every book on your tablet, and every thought that crossed your mind was filled with him. You tried reminding yourself that he could be a totally different person from who he was when you were 18. That he could look completely different, act completely different - that he may not even know who you are anymore. The thought of Jake forgetting you was suffocating, closing in on you a little bit more every time it creeped into your mind. You took a deep breath as you departed the plane, your eyes scanning the crowd for your mother as you gripped your carry-on. Your face went white as a sheet as you saw her standing with Mrs. Serensin, both of whom waved frantically with excitement as they saw you.

“Jenna! It’s been so long, darlin’, how have you been? Your mama’s told me lots, but I feel like it’s no substitute for getting to see you in person!”

“Hi, Mrs. Serensin! I’ve been ok, how have you guys been? Haven’t seen you in about, 15 years? I think I saw y’all the one visit after Jake shipped out, but I haven’t been home much for the holidays, Mama’s usually up in Chicago visiting me.”

“We’ve been good, Bethany has two boys now, Easton and Dylan, and Matt’s met this girl, Alexis, she’s wonderful, a real sweetheart. He’s gettin’ married next summer. “

“Oh, that’s great news!” You replied cheerfully, fighting the instinct to bite your lip as she failed to mention where Jake was at in life.

“We better get going, Julie, Jake’s plane’s about to land,” Your mother said as she grabbed Mrs. Seresin’s arm excitedly, nodding her head.

“Oh, I thought Jake landed earlier?”

“He was meant to, but his flight got delayed, he’s landing in a few minutes now, I think.”

You nodded your head slowly, reluctantly following behind as your mom and Mrs. Serensin led the way to Jake’s terminal, biting the inside of your cheek as your eyes followed the signage as you walked past. You tried your best to focus on something, anything, but your nerves but so far, your nerves were winning. You were terrified. What if Jake hated you for not staying in touch? What if he forgot all about you? What if you were the last person he wanted to see? What he if came through those doors with a surprise girlfriend on his arm?

“Ma!” You heard a voice call out. You looked up to see a tall, handsome man with neatly combed blonde hair, piercing green eyes and sunkissed skin. His naval uniform was still perfectly pressed without a crease on it somehow after his flight, and he looked perfect. You knew in an instant that it was him.

“Ms. T?” He chuckled as he shook his head, pulling back from his mother’s embrace as he gave your mother a heartfelt hug, before pausing as he looked at you, a warm smile on his lips as he nodded his head, his blonde eyebrow cocked upwards in surprise.

“Jenna?”

“The one and only,” You shrugged with a smile as you tried your best to play it cool, forgetting for a moment that at 35 years old, you shouldn’t be getting tongue-tied and start giggling like a schoolgirl over a crush. The mere fact that you still had a crush on Jake was enough to make you feel like a fool.

“It’s nice to see ya, Jenna,” Jake nodded as he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you into his embrace. You breathed in the scent of his cologne, notes of whiskey and cedarwood encircling you as his grip remained tight, yet comfortable around you, as if he was hugging his long lost friend, which, he was in a sense.

“Nice to see you too, Jake,” You nodded once as he pulled away, a soft smile on your lips as you looked at him, trying to commit this moment to memory before it drifted away on you.

You swore out of the corner of your eye, you saw your mothers exchange a look with one another, a secret signal to one another, as if a master plan of theirs was underway, and everything was beginning to come together before their eyes.

As the four of you headed out to the car together, you caught yourself repeatedly stealing glances at Jake. He hadn’t changed hardly at all since you saw him last, apart from gaining some muscle, and his cheekbones and jawline becoming a bit more defined as he’d aged. He looked incredible for 35, if you didn’t know him, you likely would have guessed he was barely 30, and you couldn’t help but feel yourself fall deeper with each stolen look at him.

“So, you’re Captain Seresin now then?” You raised an eyebrow as you looked at him, hoping to break the silence brewing between the two of you.

“Yeah, this past April! I didn’t expect to get it, to be honest.”

Jake’s cheeks reddened as he smiled at you, trying to appear modest as he spoke of his accomplishments in the Navy since you’d last seen him. He had always used to have an ego so big that it’d rival some of the aircraft around in size, especially as a teenager - he was good and he knew he was good when it came to sports. It was part of what drove the two of you apart, but around you? He was modest like he always had been before, acting embarrassed by the achievements he’d otherwise never shut up about. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think Jake was nervous around you. Jake Seresin, the only service member on active duty with multiple confirmed kills, the US Naval Air Force Captain who’s served for the last 17 years without as much as a scratch on him, the man who graduated top of his class from the Top Gun program, where only the best of the best are selected to participate. Jake Seresin had no need to be nervous about impressing you. He could have impressed you by simply looking your way - but for some reason, he was nervous around you, reduced to a blushing, modest mess.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

“Jake’s such a lovely boy,” Your mother said as she sipped her morning coffee, eyes fixated on the news program on her television set.

“He’s 35, mama, he’s hardly a boy now.”

“Fine, Jake’s a lovely man, he’s still just as sweet as I remember him being when he was young. He comes back to visit whenever he gets a leave and stays for a few days, and he always stops by to say hello - he even asks about you sometimes.”

“He asks about me?”

“He sure does, he asked Julie about you the other day, in fact. He was asking if you’d be home this time at Christmas. Seems you two always come back to visit on opposite schedules and never run into each other. He was saying he’d like to see you again, Jenna.”

Your mother’s words hung in the air for a moment. You took a sip from your coffee mug and furrowed your brow as you thought it over. You dismissed your mother’s words as nothing more than an attempt to set you and Jake up on a date, one that you figured Jake wasn’t going to be a willing participant of.

“Oh Mama, hush, he probably just said that to be polite because he figured I’d be coming home for the holidays anyway.”

“Jenna, why are you always so stubborn?” Your mother frowned, shaking her head as she let out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not stubborn, I’m just…practical. I’m the only one who seems to realize the fact that Jake and I haven’t seen each other in 17 years, Mama. We’re not the same people we were when we were 18. He could be a serial womanizer with a series of broken hearts left behind waiting for him in California for all I know. He could have 17 kids by different women, or be a serial killer, Mama. I literally know nothing about him anymore.”

“Jenna Elizabeth Taylor, you’re just being ridiculous now,” Your mother frowned as she shook her head, sighing, “I think Julie would have mentioned it if Jake was a father, and do you really think he’s the type to go around breaking hearts for fun? Besides, how could he be a serial killer if he’s busy flying around on missions all the time?”

“You’re missing my point, Ma.”

“No, Jenna, I think you’re missing mine,” She sighed, setting her mug down on the table as she pursed her lips, “My point is, I know you’ve been holding out for him for years. He’s asked his mama about you, he’s been asking if you were coming home, he stops in to see me whenever he comes home - do you really think he’d do all that if he didn’t still feel something for you?”

“Mama, I’m not going to make a fool of myself and throw myself at him, contrary to what you think would work.”

You heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, and when you turned on your heel, you stood face to face with Jake, now sporting a fitted pair of acid-washed light denim jeans and a burnt orange Texas Longhorns football jersey and a brown corduroy bomber jacket shrugged on over top. His blonde hair peaked out from behind his beloved baseball cap, you’d swear it was the same one he’d been wearing since he was 15 if you didn’t know any better, this hat looked like it had been through hell and back.

He’d let himself in through the unlocked front door, almost certainly at your mother’s previous insistence or invitation. His cheeks were blushing again, his green eyes darting between the two of you, a blonde eyebrow cocked upwards as his gaze landed on you.

“Throw yourself at who?” He chuckled, flashing a set of perfect white teeth your way as gave you that same grin that he always did when you were kids. It was the kind of smile that always got him out of trouble, and sometimes, into trouble, depending on the situation.

“No one,” You said quickly, shooting your mother a warning glance as you shook your head, a few strands of light brown hair falling free from your half-assed ponytail that you’d thrown it up into the night before for bed. You realized that Jake was now standing in your mother’s living room while you were sporting an oversized old Texas Longhorns tee and a pair of sweatpants - not ideal attire for seeing a man you were attracted to in, regardless of your protests about your feelings to your mother.

“Right,” Jake nodded his head, but the tone in his voice told you he didn’t quite believe a word you were saying, “I know this isn’t a great time, but Ma wanted me to check and see if you and Ms. T were still able to make it tonight, she wanted me to ask in person, and she wanted me to see if you needed my help bringing anything over, she said you were bringing your famous taco dip, Ms. T? I can bring the dish over now for you if you’d like, Ma’s cleared out the fridge of anything that isn’t a necessity for the party so there’s tons of room.”

“Sure, Jake, honey, it’s in the fridge, Jenna can show you where, I just have to run upstairs and grab something to send to your mama’s with you,” Your mother said as she stood up, heading off up the stairs quicker than you could say a word, leaving you and Jake alone in an awkward stance, nothing but the sound of the morning news to fill the silent void between you, until Jake cleared his throat again before pointing his index finger towards the kitchen.

“In here? I’m sure I can find it if you need to go upstairs and get changed.”

“I’m fine, not like you haven’t seen me in pajamas before, Jake.”

“Well, in my defense, last time we were like, 12.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen a woman in an oversized tee and sweatpants before,” You shrugged nonchalantly, pretending to be completely unbothered by the fact you felt like you were dressed like an absolute slob right now.

“Alright, lead the way then,” Jake nodded as he followed behind you.

You felt his eyes make their way down your body, and you swore you could hear him muttering something under his breath as he sauntered into the kitchen after you. You couldn’t make out what he had said, but it sounded almost like a “Jesus Christ” before he coughed and averted his gaze as you turned to face him. You opened the fridge and grabbed the dish containing your mom’s taco dip before setting it on the counter for Jake to take home. You raised an eyebrow at Jake as you caught him staring in your direction, a look of bewilderment on his face.

“You good, Hangman?”

“Hmm?” Jake said as he shook his head, an awkward laugh escaping his lips as he raised an eyebrow at you, “How did you know my callsign?”

“Because it’s on the back of your jersey, genius.”

Jake raised an eyebrow as he looked down, as if he’d forgotten what shirt he was wearing today. He nodded his head and laughed as he ran a hand through the back of his hair, scratching the back of his neck as he looked back up at you.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Just, uh, jet-lagged, I think.”

“Jet-lagged? Isn’t only two hours behind us in San Diego?”

“You can still feel jet-lag with a two hour difference, Jenna.”

“I’m not stupid, Jake, I know that, but you seem…distracted? Not tired.”

“I’m fine, honest,” He nodded as he shoved his hands into his front pockets, looking around the kitchen as you checked the fridge for the extra shredded cheese and green onions your mother had prepared the night before to top the dip she’d made.

“Suit yourself, Jake,” You laughed as you set everything out on the counter for him and nodded, “If you give me five minutes to get dressed, I’ll help you bring it over.”

“Five minutes? God, I remember you taking 30 minutes to get ready when we were kids.”

“I was 12, it was 2000, I needed more time to perfect my lip gloss routine. Now I just have to put something warmer and nicer on than a t-shirt and sweatpants.”

“Fair enough, I can wait here. Your mama said she’d back down in a minute with something for Ma anyways.”

“Right, I’ll be back down in five.”

You turned around and headed back up the stairs, sighing softly to yourself as you entered your childhood bedroom, opening your suitcase as you grabbed out a pair of jeans and a vintage crewneck sweatshirt. You tidied your hair up into a neat ponytail before heading back down the stairs to meet Jake, who was currently talking to your mother in the kitchen, his body leaning against the counter as he spoke. Jake looked up at you, straightening his posture as he saw you. He picked the taco dip up from the counter, along with the reusable shopping bag your mother had packed up of the extra ingredients. Sitting on the counter next to the food was a gift, perfectly wrapped with a gold bow and a tag written out in your mother’s sleek handwriting. Jake’s mother and yours had always exchanged gifts with one another, and it warmed your heart in a sense to see the tradition still carrying on for them.

“So, you enjoy living in Chicago?” Jake asked, watching you as the two of you headed back from your childhood home, Jake having insisted on walking you back so you could spend some time catching up, even if just for a few minutes. .

“Yeah, it’s a change of scenery. It’s different from Austin for sure. How’s San Diego treating you?”

“It’s pretty good, I like being on the beach. I do miss home sometimes though,” He laughed softly, giving his shoulders a gentle shrug as he looked around at the street you grew up on, just a couple of blocks away from his own childhood home.

“I mean, yeah, I miss my mom sometimes when I’m in Chicago, but, I know it’s easier for me to come home and see her than for you to come home and see your family.”

“Jenna? Can I ask you something?”

“Mhmm?”

“Do you…do you regret leaving for Chicago?”

“No, I wouldn’t be where I’m at now if I hadn’t left. I have a really good career in public relations, and I’m happy with where I’m at professionally. I wouldn’t have gotten that if I stayed in Austin, just like you wouldn’t have gotten as far in the Navy if you hadn’t gone to Annapolis.”

Jake stayed silent for a minute, his eyes looking everywhere but at you, avoiding your gaze. You could sense tension between the two of you. The Jake you knew growing up was never awkward, and never stopped talking - had he really changed that much since he’d left? You couldn’t see the Navy taming him to the point where he became reserved, Jake had always been so outgoing, so full of self-pride that it often came off as cocksure arrogance, but most of the time, it was out of sheer disbelief that he’d made it that far. You looked to him, his hands firmly in his pockets as he let out a huff, his breath turning to vapor in the cool December air.

“I should really get going,” Jake nodded slowly, checking his watch as he looked back towards the street, “I promised Ma I’d help her set up.”

“Right, right, I’ll see you in a couple hours? Mama and I’ll be there.”

“Perfect, I’ll see you then,” Jake nodded, a warm smile on his features as he turned to start heading back.

You let out a heavy sigh, mentally kicking yourself as you realized you’d just let another opportunity to tell Jake how you felt slip away from you. As you headed up to your bedroom to get ready, moving quickly to dodge any questions from your mother, who was probably desperate to hear how your alone time with Jake had gone.

You shut the door behind you, sighing again as you sat at your old vanity table, brushing through your hair and sectioning it with a claw clip as you began straightening it, trying your best to calm your nerves and make a decision on how you were going to approach Jake. You wanted to tell him, desperately, how you felt, but, part of you couldn’t help but cling to the fact you might regret it. That you might be disappointed and find out that Jake never felt the same about you, and that he never would. Or that he’d be in a relationship with someone else back in San Diego, someone prettier, younger, smarter, better.

On the other hand, did you really want to commit yourself to never telling him how you felt? Letting the door shut on the one man you’d loved the longest, the most, and the hardest in your lifetime? Could you really be happy with anyone else? What if something happened to Jake while he was serving and you never got the chance to share how you felt? What if, somehow, there was the off chance he felt the same way about you?

As you finished your makeup, taking a deep breath as you looked yourself over in the mirror, you nodded your head. You had to tell him. There was no way you could let him go back to San Diego without knowing. You couldn’t let this go unsaid any longer, if for no other reason than to give yourself closure. If he rejected you, you could move on - or at least, try to. You could finally let go of your feelings and meet someone, and try your hardest to love them with the same enthusiastic, all-consuming love you felt for Jake. If he felt the same way, you’d apply for a job transfer to Los Angeles as soon as possible, because a three-hour drive was much more manageable of a commute to see him than a flight from Chicago to San Diego.

This was it, you were going to finally do it. You just needed to get Jake alone.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

“Oh, Jenna! It’s been so long, how are you?”

Bethany’s voice was sweet as honey as she spoke, wrapping her arms around you in a warm embrace, as if she’d been missing you for years and the sight of you reminded her of just how much.

“I’m great thanks, Beth, how are you? Your mama said you have two boys now? Easton and Dylan?”

“Yeah, they’re 6 and 4, they’re little handfuls like their uncles, but I guess that’s to be expected when you’ve got Jake and Matt as influences for you. My husband’s not much better.”

Bethany laughed as she gestured towards Jake playing with Easton? Or was it Dylan? Jake’s unmistakeable toothy grin plastered on his face, his green eyes alight with joy as he lifted his young nephew up, tickling him, the young boy’s laughter filling the air as Jake continued to make him laugh. Jake looked up to see you with his sister, smiling as he set the boy down on the floor, ruffling his hair with his fingers before making his way over to you.

“Jenna! Hey, I’m glad you came.”

“Told you I would, didn’t I?” You laughed, shrugging your shoulders as effortlessly as possible as you tried to play it cool, praying no one saw through the front you were putting up.

“Hey, Jenna, can I…can I talk to you for a sec?” Jake asked sheepishly.

You couldn’t mistake the look on Bethany’s face, biting her lip to hold back a grin. You caught Jake giving her a stare that could make any person stop dead in their tracks, his green eyes practically piercing through his older sister as she tried not to laugh. As you nodded your head, raising your eyebrow at the scene unfolding before you. You followed behind Jake as he led you upstairs to his old childhood bedroom. When he opened the door, you were confronted with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. Old pictures adorned the wall, some including you and Jake as children, with ice cream covered smiles and skinned knees, baseball uniforms and halloween costumes, missing teeth and messy curls.

“Ma hasn’t changed anything since I left home, I don’t even think she’s bought new bedding for this room.” He chuckled as he looked around the room, his large hands placed firmly on his hips as he stood in the doorway.

“Still sleeping with those baseball player sheets you had as a kid?” You teased, eyeing the comforter on the bed, neatly made and pulled together, a sign of Jake’s time in the navy.

“You know it, I’m still a big kid, really,” He laughed, nodding his head as he pointed to a picture on the wall before looking over at you, “Remember this one? Your 7th birthday party, I think I snuck an extra little bit of frosting off your birthday cake and my mama almost killed me. She told me I had the table manners of a barn animal.”

“You did, you used to chew with your mouth full too.”

“I grew out of it at least. I’m a little more civilized now.” Jake replied with a smirk, shrugging his shoulders as he turned to face you, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath before exhaling sharply. You could see Jake chewing at the inside of his cheek, nodding his head as his eyes met yours.

“I have to tell you something, ok?” He finally said, sighing heavily.

“I’m listening, Jake.”

“I should have told you this a long time ago, but…I love you.”

You sputtered for a moment, eyes wide in shock as he spoke. He frowned, clearly expecting a better reaction than what you’d given him. Jake shook his head and took your hand in his, stroking the back of your hand gently with his fingers, which were almost surprisingly soft and smooth to the touch.

“I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t care if you just wanna be friends after hearing this, because even though the truth is, I'm scared to be your friend, I would rather have you in my life as a friend than not have you in my life at all. The last 17 years have been spent missing you and wishing I’d said something before I left. That I’d kissed you or held you, or said something, anything to you.” He frowned, nodding his head as he looked to the ground before continuing to speak, his voice beginning to tremble with emotion.

“I was stupid to just go and leave things there, but I’ve been paying for it ever since. No other woman has ever compared to you.”

Without another word, you gripped the front of Jake’s football jersey, using it to give you leverage to pull him in closer, your lips crashing into his just as he looked up at you to see what you were doing. Any initial hesitation either of you felt melted away into the kiss, your lips moving together passionately, Jake’s hands trailing their way down your sides to rest on your hips, pulling your body in closer to his. When he finally pulled away to catch his breath, he maintained a small distance between the two of you, speaking in a low whisper as he watched you bite your now puffy, kiss-bitten bottom lip.

“Is that your way of telling me you feel the same way? Because if you do, I want to take you on a date. And I don't care if it's in the day, or at night, or whenever, as long as it's a real date. And I wanna sit there and tell you how beautiful I think you are, Inside and out. How you’ve always been the most beautiful girl in the world to me, without a doubt. And I wanna have babies with you, and I wanna marry you, and I wanna tell you every day that I love you and I always have." Jake nodded, his cheeks blushing as he scratched the back of his neck again, waiting for your response to his rambling feelings.

“Jake, I’ve spent the last 17 years of my life waiting to hear you say that.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Jenna. I’m so sorry I made you wait.”

“Promise me something, Jake?”

“Anything you want, pretty girl.”

“Promise me you won’t make me wait that long again? I’m not sure I can wait another 17 years for you to ask me to marry you.”

“Jenna, I swear to you, I’m not making you wait for anything ever again. I’d marry you tomorrow if I didn’t think my mama would have me committed for running off to get married three days after our reunion.”

“You’d marry me tomorrow?”

“With bells on, babe. With bells on. I’d marry you right here, right now, in my beat up Longhorns jersey, and drive off into the sunset with you in my truck if you wanted.”

“I don’t know about that, Captain Seresin,” You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him as you felt his hands caress your sides, “As tempting as that sounds, we do have 17 years of lost time to make up for.”

“And I intend to make up for every single second of that with you, Jenna. Here, Chicago, San Diego, I don’t care. I just want you. All of you, completely and totally.”

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nowritingonthewall · 5 months

Note

Hi! Can I ask for some random and domestic Poe HC? 🤧

Hello Nonnie, thank you so much for your request! I am sorry that my hcs always appear to escalate into mini-essays, I hope that you enjoy them anyway 🥰

!Content warning for allusions to past trauma (because it’s Poe) but it’s mostly fluffy!

Domestic headcanons with Poe (x gn!reader)

- If you were honest, you would never have expected Poe to actually settle down after the Battle of Exegol and the fall of the First Order. After all, he had been on the run since he had been 16 years old, his family a bunch of rebels, his home scattered across the stars. You had fully expected him to make his new job as a flying instructor his whole new life, filling every second with something exciting to do, always chasing the next thrill, never slowing down and let himself think for even a minute.

Instead, after helping the New Republic to get back on its feet, he had put most of his energy and devotion into making a home with you.

Even though he loves his job teaching students (and spending a lot of time in his x-wing while doing so), he always makes sure to finish on time so that he can spend as much of the remainder of the day with you as possible. It has become one of your daily little rituals for you to wait for him, sitting on your porch, two mugs of freshly brewed caf in your hands. It never stops warming your heart to see that gorgeous crinkly-eyed smile lighting up his face as soon as he sees you waiting for him. Giving you an adorable little wave, he always quickens his pace before pulling you into a long and heartfelt hug.

Watching the suns painting the sky with the most beautiful colours imaginable, you’ll sit snuggled up against each other, listening to each other's daily adventures.

It usually doesn’t take long before Poe’s head grows heavy against your shoulders. The first few times he tried to fight it and wouldn’t stop apologizing, no matter how often you tried to assure him that you didn’t mind at all. But soon these late afternoon or early evening naps become just another part of your daily routine.

Poe spent more than half his life making sure that everyone around him felt safe. Now, with the war becoming a more and more distant memory each day, it’s like his mind finally allows his body to catch up on all the rest that he has been denied during all those years – finally feeling safe in your arms.

And there really aren’t a lot of things that you enjoy more than holding your sleepy boy with his head resting in your lap, one hand intertwined with his, as the other one plays with his hair. You smile at every patch of grey that you find among his inky curls, more than grateful to be given the precious gift of being allowed to watch him grow old with you. It makes the warmest and fuzziest feelings bloom inside your heart to see his worry lines relax under the soft touch of your hand as you listen to his content mumbling and cutest little sighs.

- He still can’t sleep without you around, though. Whenever he is in dire need of a nap, and the weather has gone too cold to sit outside, even under a heap of cuddly blankets, he’ll sit down on the couch, look at you with the most irresistible baby ewok eyes and his softest smile and tap on his chest to ask for his favourite human blanket.

Sometimes he falls asleep within seconds as soon as you snuggle up to him. Sometimes he finds that it wasn’t sleep that he craved after all but simply the comforting presence of you right next to him, listening to the soothing rhythm of your breathing as you drift into peaceful slumber until his breath synchronizes with yours in perfect harmony. And sometimes your planned naps turn into Poe and you talking nonsense for hours, exchanging forehead kisses and nose rubs between giggles.

Poe used to think that the only way to escape the constantly reoccurring ringing in his ears was to drown it out with something even louder. Now he realizes that all he needs to find relief is the soft warmth of you lying on top of him, the shape of your bodies fitting together as perfectly as if they had been custom made for each other.

- And he allows himself to take his time with everything that he does. No more bone crushing hugs that aren’t allowed to last longer than a second and that he’d hoped would convey everything that he hadn’t time for to tell you in case he wouldn’t make it back from a mission. No more quick and chaste kisses to whatever body part they would land on before hurrying off into the next briefing or meeting.

Now he makes sure to pour all of his undying love for you into every single hug until you feel nothing but warm and safe and cared for. Every kiss of him shows you that you are the centre of his universe, from the very first kiss in the morning to the last kiss goodnight. They have become so much more tender and gentler, yet they never leave a single trace of doubt about his feelings for you.

Quick shared showers that used to be a practical necessity turn into long shared baths that last until the water turns cold. Sometimes when you aren’t ready to step out of your cocoon of warmth just yet, you wrap each other in fluffy towels and make yourself comfortable on the heating unit waiting until you’re dried off.

As you cuddle up to each other, enjoying the closeness, you find a new softness and gentleness to your relationship that you had never thought possible. You are no longer clinging to each other for dear life, always scared that you might lose each other the next minute, constantly feeling like loving on borrowed time.

And Poe takes his time rediscovering and getting to know you all over again. Gently scrubbing your back in the bath or giving you a long tension-relieving massage. Learning everything there is to know about how you take care of your hair, while committing every single detail about you to memory. Not because he fears that every time might be the very last chance to do so but because he decided to commit every single fibre of his heart and soul to loving you. Because he chooses you. Over and over again.

It takes a while for him to get comfortable letting you take care of him the same way that he takes care of you. Yet every time it is your turn to hold him in the bathtub, he finds it a little easier to relax against your chest, melting into your embrace a little deeper. With every soft kiss pressed to his temple, he manages to let go a little further. As he rests his cheek against yours, while your hands are slowly caressing over his arms, he has never felt more vulnerable and at the same time more safe and protected than during those moments.

That’s when the tears tend to flow.

Those are the days when you make sure to take extra good care of him. Letting him rest his head against your shoulder as you carefully pat his back with a towel, gently kissing his tears away before placing a soft kiss on every single one of his scars, putting pain relieving lotion on his arm and massaging his tense shoulder. Only a few months ago this kind of special treatment would have made him feel more than uncomfortable. Seeing his own needs through your loving eyes, he slowly begins to accept that it is okay to take them seriously. And as he curls up against your chest, he doesn’t only allow it but he knows that he can completely trust you to take care of him.

- Poe has always loved to dance. Nearly as much as he loves to cuddle with you. Sadly, the days of the Resistance hadn’t exactly given you a lot of opportunity to do so and reasons to break into celebratory dances had been all too rare. So now he takes any chance he gets to hug you from behind, snuggle up as close to you as possible, rest his head on your shoulder and his cheek against yours while swaying the both of you to some music coming from your holopad or to a secret rhythm that only the two of you seem to be able to feel.

You dance in the morning while waiting for the first few cups of caf to brew, while waiting for something yummy baking in the oven, when you’re trying to dust the shelves, or while doing the dishes.

Doing the dishes never becomes a boring task with Poe. If he doesn’t turn it into a dance, there are bound to be lather battles that more often than not turn into tickle fights. And they always end with him using the dish cloth to draw you in for a long and wobbly-knees-inducing kiss.

This is also where most of your more serious conversations take place. It’s always been easier for Poe to talk about difficult topics while his hands have something to do. So whenever you feel like there’s something on his mind that he has trouble talking about, you’ll ask him “dish discussion?”, to which he answers with a relieved smile.

And, of course, should the topic require some serious hugging action, you can always continue your discussion on the kitchen floor, which proves over and over again to be the best place to solve any problem imaginable. And in case one of you should be in need of an even more comforting atmosphere, your kitchen cabinet features an extra compartment containing all the components required to build a blanket fort. It’s a habit that goes back to the early days of you joining the Resistance. And afterwards your blanket fort of safety can easily be converted into a blanket fort of romantic dinners and cuddle sessions.

- The two of you share a little garden with Rey, who doesn’t live too far away from you (I am sorry, LEGO, I refuse to believe that the trio would ever split up!). At least it was a little garden in the beginning. It all started when Poe noticed how Rey’s eyes would start to sparkle whenever she came across anything lush and green. So he began to present her with a special plant from every place that he visited. Pretty soon even her house was too small to accommodate her (not so) little personal jungle, so you helped her turning her backyard into a little garden. Which just kept on expanding. Because it never stopped warming Poe’s heart to see the way Rey’s face shining brighter than the suns whenever he found a new exotic plant for her.

He helped her create her special place of happiness both in her mind and in the physical world and you two are the only ones apart from Finn she trusts to take care of it. Even if your and Poe’s gardening sessions sometimes turn into several rounds of mud wrestling or splashy water fights.

Poe’s first very own gardening project featured the planting of a row of koyo trees. They weren’t even supposed to be able to grow in this climate but Poe Dameron has never been one to let logic or reason stand in the way of matters close to his heart. After all, he had managed to nurse a force tree back to health without any jedi tricks. And maybe Rey’s and Finn’s way with the force helped a little, too. Though he will always tell everyone willing (or maybe not too willing) to listen that it was your loving care that made the trees grow and flourish and bloom in the end.

His proud little face when he was able to harvest the very first fruit is another one of your many precious and treasured memories. Of course he let you have the first bite, almost a little nervous about your reaction.

The original plan was to turn the fruits into juice and jelly and lots of cakes. Which was a good plan. And it probably would have worked if the koyo fruits hadn’t been so damn tasty that you ate most of them before they ever had a chance to land in a basket. And what better way to spend the last days of summer than sitting lazily in the cool shadow of a koyo tree, taking turns to lie in each others lap while feeding each other freshly picked koyo fruits?

- During the nights when neither of you is able to sleep, you’ll climb onto the roof of your house, which offers a snug little platform that provides the perfect secluded retreat to lie on your back and gaze at all the stars in the galaxy. A galaxy that’s finally at peace.

Poe’s gaze keeps wandering back to you, though, and every time it does, he can’t stop smiling. As soon as you notice, you’ll snuggle a little closer to cradle his head and place the softest little kiss on his forehead, making him smile even wider. Softly stroking your cheek, he returns the kiss. On your nose, on your temple, across your jaw line, all over both of your cheeks, and everywhere he can reach.

You finally dare to make plans for the future again. Talking about all the stars and systems and planets you would like to explore together. Without rush, without being constantly on your guard, actually being able to look forward to visiting them.

The important thing is that Poe is no longer driven by the uncontrollable need to chase every single one of them. Because he has his own little galaxy lying right here by his side.

#poe dameron #star wars #poe dameron x reader #poe x reader #poe dameron x you #reader insert #poe dameron headcanon #fanfiction #poe dameron fanfiction #chrissie tries to write #chrissie gifs

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justmystyles · 11 months

Note

hi! hope ur okay. did you see that harry performed wet dream with wet leg? can you pleaseee write a harry x reader (she's singing with him) they're not a couple but there's some tension between them

Perfect Harmony

read my other work here

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: a couple of curse words, but other than that, it's tame.

summary: you're in the final days of the tour, and Harry makes a suggestion that ends up changing everything.

a/n: i did see that! he's really going out with a bang, isn't he? i hope you like what i did with your ask! 🖤

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

You were putting the finishing touches on your makeup, when there was a knock on your dressing room door. You called for them to enter, keeping your eyes on the mirror in front of you. You see Harry come into view behind you, and your gaze locks on him in the reflection.

“Don’t worry, you look stunning.” He assured you. You chuckled, running a brush over your cheeks to try to hide the blush that grew from the compliment.

You thought he was just being kind, but you had no idea how deeply he really meant those words. Ever since he found your performances on YouTube, he had been completely captivated. He immediately got in touch with his team and did everything he could to get you onboard as his opening act.

When you met face to face, the feelings only intensified for him. He was immediately smitten. He didn’t make a move, however, technically he was your boss and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He decided it would be best to just be your friend, and you became close very quickly. You spent your days off exploring the cities you were visiting, you would hang out backstage singing and laughing, you had even written a couple of songs together.

But the tour was coming to an end, and you would be going your separate ways. Harry was dreading the last show for a lot of reasons. Having to say goodbye to you was just about at the top of that list.

“So listen,” he continued. “I had an idea I wanted to run by you.”

You put the makeup brush down and turned to face him. “Whatcha thinking?”

He took a deep breath, he was undeniably confident about this decision when he thought of it an hour ago, but now that he was standing in front of you pitching it, the doubts were starting to take over. “Well, I mean we only have two shows left,” he gave you a sad smile, which you returned. “And I want to get as much stage time as possible, and give the fans something special to remember me by. So I was thinking that maybe I could join you onstage during your set, maybe debut one of the songs we’ve written together?”

“Debut?” You question, you thought those songs were just the two of you having fun, you never expected them to see the light of day. “I didn’t know you were planning on releasing them.”

“Oh,” he was a little surprised by your reaction. “I mean, I haven’t actually planned to, but they’re really good Y/N, the world should hear them.”

You consider his words, it would be fun to share the stage with him. His fans had been so welcoming and accepting, you had even noticed some people starting to sing along to your songs. “Yeah, okay. That would actually be really fun.”

He responds with that wide, dimpled grin that makes your heart flutter, but you quickly suppress those feelings. You’re Harry’s buddy, he doesn’t see you that way. He never would.

You spend a few minutes deciding on a song, and once you’re in agreement he runs you out to the stage for a quick rehearsal before the fans start flooding in. Once you’re finished with that, you say your goodbyes and go to your respective dressing rooms to get ready for the show.

You feel as though you're performing the best set of your career, you can’t tell if it’s the fans or the anticipation of sharing the stage with Harry. Maybe both. You’ve grown a lot as a performer, but also as a person. You’d always loved singing, but the live performance piece always gave you a sense of dread and anxiety. You were never particularly comfortable in your skin, so the idea of standing up in front of all those people, bearing your soul was pretty terrifying. But Harry and his fans had made you feel so welcomed, comfortable, and loved that you got to a place where you couldn’t wait to hit the stage.

“Alright, I’ve got one more song for you guys tonight!” You announce into the microphone. “It’s a new song, I’ve never performed it before, so I hope you like it.” You pull away from the microphone, as if the song’s about to begin, but before the music can kick in, you hold up a finger to the crowd and step back up to the microphone. “Actually, I’m going to need some help with this one, so I”m going to have the co-writer come out and help me. Ladies and gentlemen, Harry Styles!”

The arena erupts into cheers and screams as Harry makes his way onstage with his guitar, smiling and waving to the crowd. He steps up to you, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek before whispering in your ear. “Let’s do this.” A chill runs up your spine at the feeling of his breath against your skin.

You shake it off and step up to the microphone as Harry strums the opening notes. You open your mouth and the notes fly out of you with ease. The song is going even better than it had in rehearsals, you and Harry’s voices complimenting each other perfectly. There were tens of thousands of people in front of you, but it felt like you and Harry were the only two people on earth. There was a sparkle in Harry’s eyes when he looked at you, you hadn’t noticed it before, but you just chalked it up to the excitement of premiering a song in front of a live audience.

You and Harry hit your harmonies on the final note, and the audience goes absolutely insane. You look over at Harry and chuckle as he shoots you a wink. You walk up to him, lifting his hand in victory and you bow together. “Thank you Lisbon, this guy will be right back, but I’ve been Y/N!”

The two of you run off stage together hand in hand, adrenaline running high. You stop and face Harry once you’re backstage.

“Holy shit,” you exclaim. “That was amazing, I can’t believe how–”

Your rambles are cut off as Harry crashes his lips against yours. You stiffen in shock briefly, but soon melt into the kiss. He lifts his hand to your cheek as his tongue runs across the seam of your lips, you let out a soft sigh, allowing him access to your mouth.

He pulled away far too abruptly for your liking, your eyes fluttered open to see a look of shock and embarrassment on his face.

“I’m so sorry,” his eyes were wide.

“It’s fi–”

“No,” he interrupted you. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh, okay.” Your eyes dropped to the floor. You thought that maybe he was feeling the same way about you, but by his reaction you could tell that he was clearly just caught up in the moment. He didn’t mean it. “I’m gonna, uh… have a good show.” You said to him, retreating to your dressing room before he could respond. Before your tears began to fall.

Harry gave his all on stage, it was his second to last show and the fans that came to see him tonight deserved just as much as the fans that came to the first show in 2021. You would have never known that his mind was swirling the whole time, all he could think about was that kiss. You had kissed him back, you were sure of it, and you almost seemed disappointed when he pulled away and apologized. He should have been enjoying this moment, reveling in some of his final moments on stage, but he couldn’t wait for it to be over so he could find you.

The second he was off the stage, he rushed to your dressing room only to find it empty.

“Shit.” He slammed a fist down on the table. He had made a real mess of things this time.

You laid in your hotel bed absentmindedly clicking through the television channels. You had left pretty much right after the kiss. The tour was almost over, you just had to lay low for a few days, and then you and Harry would have plenty of distance.

Just as you were starting to doze off, you were startled by a knock at your door. You contemplated just ignoring it, assuming they would take the hint and go away, but the next knock was louder, more insistent. You sighed and got out of bed, moving to the door.

Upon opening it, you were greeted by Harry, a sad smile on his face. You never thought there would be a day where you didn’t want to see Harry, but here you were.

It wasn’t anything against him, you just didn’t want the ‘I like you as a friend’ talk. You’d heard it so many times in your life, you weren’t sure you could handle it from him. Sure, you knew that was where his head was at, but if he never said it, you could still grasp onto that little sliver of hope that he might see you as something more.

“You didn’t stay for the show.”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “It’s been a long tour, I just kind of wanted an early night.”

“Oh,” he said quietly, his eyes dropping to look at his shoes. “I thought maybe it was because of what happened when we got off stage.”

You huffed a chuckle. “Don’t worry about it Harry, we had just gotten off stage, there was all this adrenaline and we were on a high. It was a mistake in the heat of the moment.”

Harry looked up at you, his brow furrowed. “Did you think it was a mistake?”

You were taken aback by his question. “I mean, you apologized and said you shouldn’t have. I just assumed you thou–”

“I didn’t apologize because of what I did. I apologized because of how I did it.” He looked at your face, trying to gauge your reaction.

When he walked into your empty dressing room, he got hit with the sudden reality that in a couple of days, you’d be going your separate ways and he didn’t know when he was going to see you again. He decided that he needed to put it out there, tell you how he was feeling.

There was a storm of confusion swimming in your eyes. “What… um, what do you mean?”

“May I?” He gestured behind you. You nodded and stepped back, allowing him entry to your room. You both took a seat at the end of the bed. “Kissing you wasn’t a mistake, I’ve wanted to kiss you practically this whole tour. But it shouldn’t have been like that, I should have talked to you first, told you how I feel. Made sure the feelings were reciprocated.”

“Feelings?” You questioned, your heart starting to race.

“I think you’re amazing, Y/N, I’m crazy about you.” He looked at you with a vulnerability in his eyes that took your breath away. “I’ve been too afraid to tell you, I thought it might make things weird if you didn’t feel the same.”

You look up at him in shock. You never expected those words to come out of his mouth. You were still trying to process his words when you noticed a slight panic cross his face, you realized it had been longer than it should have been, and you were just staring at him. “I do.” Was all you were able to say.

“Yeah?” His lips curved up into a smirk.

“Of course, how could I not?” You ask. “You’re so sweet, and thoughtful, you make me laugh harder and more often than anyone I’ve ever met. Not to mention you’re fucking gorgeous.”

“Well, when you put it like that I see your point.” He joked.

“And so humble about all of it,” you roll your eyes sarcastically.

He chuckled softly before reaching over and taking your hand. “Can I take you on a date tomorrow night?”

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth with a smile as you nod your head. “I would really like that.”

You sat there in silence for a moment smiling at each other. Both of you marveling in the situation you found yourselves in.

Harry was the first to break the silence. “Do you think maybe I could kiss you again? You know, show you how it was supposed to be?”

“Yes, please.” You smile.

Without skipping a beat, Harry leaned forward, capturing your lips. There was no surprise this time, no tension, just butterflies and happiness. When you signed on to open for Harry, you never would have expected that Love on Tour was going to be taken so literally.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles fluff #harry's house #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styes one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic

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sluttyminghao · 1 year

Text

down under ♡ j.w.w

♡ pairing: idol!wonwoo x female!reader ♡ genre: smut ♡ word count: 1.6k ♡ this fic contains: long-distance relationship, guided masturbation, video chatting, masturbation (f and m), wonwoo has a very very deep voice, reader gets off to his voice ♡ synopsis: wonwoo has landed in a new country and is pretty tired, but still makes the effort to call you. what he doesn't realize is how his husky voice will affect you. ♡ a/n: I wish I could say I was sorry but I'm really not, big thanks to @lovelyhan for proofreading for me :)

“Oh, hey!”

“Hey, baby, how are you?”

Wonwoo’s voice comes through the screen a little crackly, but it settles relatively quickly as his laptop adjusts to the hotel’s wifi. You can see him perfectly clearly, his dark hair fluffed up and his round specs perched delicately on the bridge of his nose. You could immediately see how exhausted he was, the dark circles under his eyes are prominent, but he still managed to call you as soon as he got to his hotel room and got settled in.

It made your heart skip a beat.

“I’m okay, the bed feels empty without you but I’m sure I’ll manage, I always have,” your sentence has wonwoo’s features morphing into one of guilt, but he brushes it off quickly knowing that you always do fine when he goes away on tour. He smiles as you continue chatting about your day and what you did after he left for the airport in the early hours of the morning.

He didn’t want to leave you, your sleeping form nestled comfortably under the two blankets you always required. It was hard to drag himself out of the warmth of the bed you two shared and into the cool autumn air, but it was part of his job as an idol to be prepared at any time for any situation.

“But enough about me, how’s Australia? Was the flight over okay?” You see Wonwoo chuckle as he readjusts himself on the hotel bed, to which you can see a peek of his naked collarbone and shoulders. You had been so wrapped up in catching up with him before that you hadn’t even noticed he was half-naked and sitting on camera with you.

“The flight over was…okay? I didn’t get a lot of sleep because Vernon kept talking to me about a new video game that’s coming out soon, but the food was good, especially for plane food, and didn’t have any trouble with customs,” his voice is so soothing but you can tell he’s tired just from how it’s dropped an octave.

You don’t want to admit the way his voice sounds is turning you on, especially given how exhausted he was from his flight. However, you couldn’t help feeling your panties begin to stick to your folds the more he elaborated on what the band’s tour would be like over the next few weeks, the deep and dulcet tones of his voice going straight to your pussy.

Whilst Wonwoo was exhausted, he was still sharp enough to see you weren’t in the right frame of mind either; your fingers picking at the skin of your lips and your eyes darting in all directions, not looking him in the eye (as best as you could over a camera anyway.)

“Baby, what’s going on?”

Your mind is hazed over with lust, your fingers teasing your sopping folds and picturing that they were Wonwoo’s instead. You had almost completely forgotten he was on camera with you, observing how your body writhes and how your whimpers cascade through his speakers like a wonderful harmony.

He doesn’t have to ask you again what’s going on.

That’s when he begins to formulate a plan, something that will send you over the edge over and over.

“Angel, come back to me, I want to see your pretty face.”

You're finally snapped out of your haze at the use of the pet name, and you feel your cheeks begin to burn at the prospect of what you’d just been caught doing. You can see Wonwoo grinning at you like he normally does when you are desperate for release. What you can’t see, however, below the camera is that he’s now discarded his slacks and is sitting butt naked on his bed, cock rigid and leaking precum onto his lower abdomen.

“Sorry…kinda got caught up…”

He raises an eyebrow at you as you try to explain yourself and trip over your own words, and can’t help but notice you’ve removed your loose-fitting shirt and are now sitting in just your bra and presumably, underwear. Just imagining the sight of you alone like that has his cock twitching against his stomach.

“What were you thinking about darling? Guide me through your thoughts.”

You can see his eyes have grown darker, pooling with lust and want. Your heartbeat quickens and suddenly you feel much more vulnerable than before, but push the feelings down very quickly and gasp when you glance back at the camera.

Wonwoo has shifted his laptop to the end of the bed, exposing his naked body to your eyes. You can see how his cock is red and angry, with small pools of precum landing in the crevices of his abs. He wraps a hand around his cock and begins to pump himself slowly, and you watch as his head falls back with a small groan at the contact.

“Go on, angel, tell me.”

“Oh, uh, well, I saw your collarbones earlier and I pictured myself leaving marks on them, and then I pictured your fingers teasing me all along my thighs and my pussy…”

Your voice trails off as you watch Wonwoo spread his legs and start pumping his cock quicker, his groans and moans becoming much more prominent the more you talk. You can’t help but to kick your panties and bra off and spread your legs, moving your laptop to the end of the bed so he can see all of you.

“Keep g-going, fuck, so good for me…”

A new wave of arousal floods your body and you can feel your cunt growing slicker by the second. Your fingers quickly find your folds again and begin to tease, sliding up and down almost torturously while your thumb glides over your clit and makes your thighs twitch with the contact.

“I… I also picture how good you fuck me, how you hold my throat when I-I’m about to cum, and-and how you always hold my thighs apart and tell me how good I am for you,” you finish your sentence with a whine as you let a finger slip inside your entrance, still feeling empty without his touch.

Despite your comments coming to a stop, Wonwoo’s movements don’t. With the perfect mixture of his imagination and your words, as well as your pretty whines and moans coming through his laptop speaker, he’s able to buck his hips into his hands harshly and bring himself to the brink of his orgasm.

Your mind is complete mush as you slip a second finger into your entrance, pumping quickly to find your own release. A hand reaches up to squeeze at your boobs, imagining it’s his large hands rather than your own, much smaller in comparison to his and not feeling nearly the same.

For a while, you both just let each other get caught up in your moans and whines, letting them tangle together in the most harmonious of ways. The sight of you alone has Wonwoo almost blowing his load, and he has to bring his hand down to his base and squeeze tightly enough to ensure he wouldn’t cum as quickly.

“I’m close,” Wonwoo’s voice has grown even deeper in his own chase for release and you feel the rubber band in your stomach tighten even more. Even though he’s not physically with you, it’s almost as if you can feel him with you as your orgasm begins to peak. He can tell you’re close too, with the way your voice quivers with each moan and word you try to pronounce.

“Cum with me, angel, are you ready?”

You whine out your response as your thumb moves harshly over your clit and a third finger enters your dripping cunt, picturing that it’s his cock instead. Incoherent mumbles begin slipping from your lips and your mind grows delirious as you wait for his signal to cum.

“Three.”

“Two…”

“O-one. Cum with me, baby.”

The white light explodes over your vision as you cum hard from his command, your fingers getting coated in juices and your body trembling violently as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. You peek your eyes open and can see Wonwoo in a very similar situation, except he has cum painting his entire abdomen up to his chest, and all down his thighs.

While you both come down from your highs, you can hear each other panting and it takes all your strength to pull yourself up and bring the laptop back up so that your face and chest are all that’s in view now. You take in the sight of him post-orgasm, still recovering with his head hanging low and his thighs lightly trembling.

“Won? Are you okay baby?”

He lifts his head and smiles at you dopily, before lifting his laptop back onto his lap. You can see his lips are slightly swollen from being bitten, and he looks so soft. While you wish you could stay on call longer, you knew it was getting late for him, and he still had to shower and eat.

“I’m okay, I promise.”

“Good, now please go and eat something and get to bed early, you look like you’re going to fall asleep any second!”

He grins at your loving scolding and says his goodbyes to you, but not before blowing you an air kiss and promising to call you when he wakes up the following morning. You smile and turn your computer off, before heading to the shower to think about Wonwoo and his fingers some more.

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blacksapphrodite · 8 months

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🍅 Tomato Magic for Love and Prosperity ❤️

Like most everything I cook, this sauce gets the magic treatment. It makes adding magic to other meals I cook during the week a breeze! I always make this in the slow cooker on a weekend when I can babysit it. Sauces like this should be cooked low and slow, and it’s less likely to burn in a crock-pot. It can, of course, be cooked on the stove as well, but it requires a lot more monitoring. Whatever you use, treat this sauce like it’s your baby, and it’ll come out amazing.

With the main ingredient in this sauce being, well, tomatoes, it lends itself very well to love and prosperity magic. Tomatoes are considered an aphrodisiac and are tied to Lady Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty.🩷 They’re also known to dispel negativity and bring wealth to the home. So this would be a good recipe to help inspire a happy marital home, or to serve on a date night, or bring about love or wealth in general! I like to think of it as a spell for a loving and prosperous home.💕 I use cans of crushed tomatoes, but you can use fresh as well if you have some nice ripes ones. My last attempt at fresh didn’t end well, but I’ll try it again soon and let you all know how it goes! Now let’s get to the actual recipe.

Ingredients

2 large cans of crushed Tomatoes (prosperity, passion, love)

Garlic, minced and/or roasted* (love, purity, banishing negativity)

Water or Broth (about a can’s worth)

1 small can of tomato paste (guard against negativity)

1 medium Onion, minced (endurance, stability, banishing negativity)

A couple glugs of olive oil

A glug of red wine

Half of a roasted, skinned and pureed red bell pepper (optional, but so good!)*

Bay leaf (love, passion, harmony)

Basil (wealth,love, faithfulness)

Oregano (ward against negative energy, happiness, peaceful energy)

Thyme (positivity, prosperity)

Parsley (happiness, passion, protection)

Sage (prosperity, mental clarity)

Rosemary (beauty, love, general magical boost)

Marjoram (happiness, love, money)

Sea Salt (purity, protection)

Pepper (passion)

Crushed red pepper (passion, a spell booster)

You can go about making this sauce two different ways. In one version, you just toss everything into the pot, give it a good couple of clockwise stirs, turn the heat to low and let it cook all day long. This, of course, still tastes amazing and it’s incredibly easy. You can draw some sigils on the pot or crock-pot in dry erase marker for an extra boost to your spell, too!

The second method is also easy, but takes a bit more time and mess. In this version, you’ll want to saute your onions and garlic in some of the olive oil. Then, add the tomato paste with some water and cook that down. Add your wine and cook it down some more. If you’re using the roasted bell pepper, add that to this mixture too. Dump this amazing smelling concoction into your crock pot with the tomatoes and other ingredients and then let it cook all day. You’ll have an extra pan to wash, but even more depth of flavor!

Say your intent and affirmations every time you check on the sauce to stir. If you have a red and/or gold or green pillar candles or tea lights, light those as well and place them in the kitchen. As you add and adjust your herbs and spices, continue to charge with your intent. At the end of the day, serve over some steaming pasta with parmesan cheese (or a good vegan substitute!), and enjoy!

I always make extra to save and use throughout the week in other dishes that could use a love or money boost. Plus it tastes amazing. So make a night of it, and enjoy!

*I use. A lot of garlic. You could use as much as a whole head, but I usually use about half of one. If you have the patience to roast it, do so. It’s sooooo good. To roast, peel off some of the outer skin of the head, cut off the top, coat it in olive oil and roast it at around 350 degrees for an hour. You can just squeeze out that garlicky goodness.

*To roast a red bell pepper, coat it in oil, broil it until the skin blackens. Place it in a paper or plastic bag and close it so the steam continues to cook it and loosen the skin. Once it’s cool, peel the skin off! You can then chop or puree it for your sauce.

Keep in mind that you can alter the purpose of this spell with your intent, using different herbs, etc. This is a base recipe and you can tailor it to your needs. :)

(I'm cleaning up my blog and reposting some of my spells/etc that were once hosted on my website.💕)

#witchcraft #witchblr #kitchen witchcraft #kitchen magic #kitchen witch #spells #love spell #money magic #kitchen spell #magick #grimoire

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deepouterspacecandy · 2 months

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Our Sanctuary of Ruin: Part Two

18+ Only. Violence, graphic sexual content, gore, references to death.

The thought of Abby being a mother absolutely melts me. There are tough themes in this one, but there’s a whole lot of fluff and domestic bliss mixed in, too. I’m taking a brief break from writing because my training schedule is intense, but I’ll definitely check back regularly to respond to your comments and asks. Thank you a million. I appreciate you.

The corridors of the stadium are a disorienting maze of shadow and rot.

Dust-covered lenses bleed a florescent glow onto the dusty walls below, emergency bulbs buzzing eerily.

It’s hard to imagine that just a few hours ago, people were rushing to their rooms and plowing through the crowd toward the exit gates. Now, it seems only remnants of them remain to stumble upon.

The wailing sirens persisted until the generators sputtered their final breath, the deafening noise resonating across the city to beckon every infected from miles around.

If, by some stroke of luck, you were able to escape, you would have simply found yourself trapped in the brutal clutch of a slow and agonizing demise.

“Can you hold the baby for a second?” Abby asks.

The unsettling stillness in the air is haunting, and with every clumsy stumble of a reanimated corpse triggering the motion detector, it amplifies the chill seething under your skin.

A cascade of light flickers on just long enough to reveal the macabre sights scattered across the field.

Abby’s heavy hand landing on your shoulder startles you.

“I need you to take the baby, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“No,” you say. “You are not leaving.”

That she would even suggest it, given everything you’ve just experienced together, leaves you stammering. Fear, camouflaged as anger, lingers at the edge of your voice.

“Don’t you dare leave my sight,” you say. “Do you hear me?”

Her arm cradles the bundle of blankets, and you can’t help but marvel at how delicate the infant looks against her broad chest. It’s taken a small miracle to soothe the baby and bring an end to the incessant crying. You’re reluctant to interrupt the peace and risk another wave of violence.

Glass shards crunch beneath her boots while she sways to a lullaby only she can hear.

“I have always come back for you,” she says, gently cupping your jaw, tilting your chin to meet her gaze. “Haven’t I?”

“Abigail, don’t.”

“I can’t leave them like this,” she says.

Murky dread twists at the pit of your stomach as you shift your gaze beyond her and peer into Jordan’s apartment. From floor to ceiling, their windows are a shattered mosaic of broken dreams.

As you reach for the baby, their tiny body wriggles uncomfortably, until you find yourself naturally swaying back and forth, mirroring Abby’s movements.

Small eyelids flutter open, and in the absence of light, a luminous galaxy of guiding stars reveals itself.

“Hi, there,” you say, your voice a strained whisper. “You are so small. How are you this little, huh?”

“I can make this better,” Abby says, leaning in to press her lips to your forehead, snuffling to hold back her tears. “I’m going to make this better, okay?”

Despite the madness of an impossible world, Abby always keeps her promises.

----------------------------------------

The grassy, sweet notes of green tea drift down the hallway from the kitchen, where you can hear Abby humming a familiar tune.

You bury your face into the silk pillow beside you, its shape still molded by her presence. The fabric feels refreshingly cool against your skin, and as you take a deep breath, the subtle muskiness of moss and ferns blends harmoniously with the citrus notes of pine.

A small child clings to you like a little sloth, having snuck in at some point during the night. Despite the ache in your back, there’s a strange relief in already knowing where they are before your feet touch the floor.

“You awake back there, Caelus?” you whisper, your voice carrying a sleepy rasp.

When their only reaction is soft exhale, you allow it to be.

You still have a few precious moments to surrender to sleep, and the drowsiness pulls you back in. The sound of Abby packing up for work is a comforting ruckus, a reminder she will be waiting for you somewhere nearby when you wake up.

With each passing morning, as the sun makes its gradual climb into the sky, you and your child set off on your route to the schoolhouse, delighting in the energy that accompanies your journey.

“What’s this one?” Caelus asks.

In their state of fascination with insects, they eagerly point at a beetle, its iridescent shell catching the light. Abby always stays updated on topics like these, and you hate not knowing, so you make your best effort not to seem ignorant in front of your own child.

“It’s a Doodlebug,” you lie.

“Oh!”

“It’s kind of pretty, isn’t it?” you ask.

Caelus shakes their head and wrinkles their nose, mirroring Abby’s notorious expression of uncertainty.

“His feet are too prickly,” they say.

The child kneels to get a closer look, but when the beetle abruptly flies away, causing them to scream in surprise, it’s confirmation that Caelus dislikes Doodlebugs completely.

Moving through the thoroughfare, the sharp aroma of charred wood fills your nose, while colourful murals bring life to the buildings lining the path.

Scattered throughout the streets, small flower gardens bloom, greeting the season.

While the settlement operates with the guidance of a small committee and the active participation of all its inhabitants, the community holds your family with Abby in high esteem as the town’s original founders.

The diligent work put into making the residents feel safe and cared for is clear in the warm greetings you receive wherever you go.

----------------------------------------

The moment your child catches sight of Abby in the distance, their eyes become saucers. They yank on your arm before jumping up and down, flailing their hands to get her attention.

Piecing together salvaged metal sheets and reclaimed materials, Abby and her crew work together to repair a section of the wall damaged by recent storms. At intervals along the perimeter, guard towers stand tall, manned by residents who are ardent about defending their home.

Under the morning sun, Abby’s powerful body glistens with sweat, showcasing her unwavering dedication to removing the sleeves from all her shirts. The sight of her muscles flexing makes you want to take a pair of scissors to every piece of clothing she owns.

Your little one races towards Abby with great speed, their shoes pounding across the pavement.

Amidst the crowd of early risers, laughter erupts, adding a bright ambiance to the atmosphere as they admire Caelus before going about their daily tasks. The thing that really stands out to you is how thrilled Abby looks when she spots the people she loves approaching.

“Found you, Mama!” Caelus shouts.

Abby skillfully grabs hold of the human cannon hurtling towards her, twirling around until they both become too disoriented to remain on their feet. Joyfully, they roll together to the ground. When your child crashes into Abby once more, she lands flat on her back and bursts into rumbling laughter, summoning you to join in the merriment.

“When did you get so strong?” she asks.

“Today!” your child exclaims, their eyes shining with triumph. “Look at my guns!”

You give Abby a playful scolding, your hands firmly planted on your hips.

“What are you teaching our child?”

“How to be cool and awesome, obviously,” she retorts. With Caelus sprawled across her chest, Abby gently digs her fingers into their tiny ribs, causing their cackles to bubble up like an overflowing brook. “Right, Cae? Or are you just ticklish?”

Your child gasps for air and pins Abby with a serious look when the giggle attack subsides.

“How come you’re not ticklish?” they ask.

“Oh, I am,” Abby says. “But only mommy knows all my secret spots.”

“That’s not fair,” Caelus grumbles.

Manny hobbles over on his crutches, curiosity piqued by the commotion. Despite his arduous path to recovery, he never hesitates to contribute, continuing to be the finest marksman you’ve ever encountered.

Caught up in the moment, your little one forgets about Manny’s injuries and impulsively jumps on him.

In a reflexive action, you shout, propelling yourself forward to intervene and prevent what’s unfolding. Manny’s response is a calm smile and a dismissive shake of his hand, as he brushes off your unease.

“Sorry, Uncle Manny,” Caelus says.

“I am not made of glass,” Manny snorts, tousling the child’s hair. “No worries.”

As you watch them venture along the newly repaired wall, chatting amongst themselves, a wave of guilt washes over you for raising your voice.

With a dirt-streaked forearm shielding her eyes, Abby looks up at you, her gaze a mix of empathy and unmistakable hunger.

“You know this is my favourite outfit, right?” she says.

“I think you’ve mentioned it.”

Lost in thought, you stand there, arms crossed over your chest, gaze fixed unseeingly on your sneakers.

Abby tugs on your shoelace, untying them and compelling you to join her on the soft grass. You take a seat beside her, and as Abby’s crew guides your child through the art of hammering a nail, you’re captivated by their precise instructions and animated gestures.

When Abby strokes your thigh, you’re tethered to the earth, setting free your deepest worries.

“I really suck at this parenting thing.”

“Stop that,” she says. “You’re an incredible mom. Caelus is lucky to have you—we both are.”

“I never want to scare them,” you say.

The weight of Abby’s grief is palpable, mourning a mother she has no memories of.

“You panicked, it happens,” Abby says, planting a kiss on the palm of your hand. “Baby, look at me.”

Abby has a reputation for being blunt, so if she had any issues with your parenting, she wouldn’t hesitate to express it. Sometimes it’s tough to break free from your thoughts, even when you know they’re lying to you.

“Raising a kid with you is the best. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she says.

Her lips curve into a lopsided grin as her hand sneaks under your shirt, tickling your abdomen.

“Uh oh. What is that look?” you ask.

“I never really thought about it before this—having kids, you know? But watching you with Caelus kind of makes my ovaries hurt,” she says with a chuckle. “You’d look real good with my baby in you.”

“Oh my god,” you blurt. “You better cut it out right now, Anderson.”

You brush away her hand and she’s radiating happiness.

“I’m just saying,” she giggles.

“Well, why is it my center of gravity that has to change—what about you, huh?” you ask.

“What about me?” Abby snorts.

“I think you’d look pretty delicious sporting a baby bump, just saying.”

A blush rises from her chest, painting her entire body a delicate shade of pink. Bathed in the sun’s warm glow, she becomes an ethereal vision of beauty, exuding an aura of calmness and security.

With a cocky brow raised, Abby brushes her fingertips against the exposed skin beneath your shirt.

“You’d miss my abs too much,” she teases.

“I already do,” you groan. “Don’t even get me started.”

Manny limps back to you, leaving your kid to assist with reconstructing the fences. His bond with Caelus goes beyond being Abby’s closest friend - it is reinforced by the fact that he was also Jordan’s friend and comrade.

The night your child was born, Manny was there.

The crisp hiss of beer cans being opened as Manny raised a toast to the birth of a new wolf cub and to Jordan’s brave proposal of marriage sifts to the forefront of your memory.

“He’d be proud,” Manny says with furrowed brows, his fingers absentmindedly picking at a small scab on his elbow. “Jordan couldn’t swing a hammer to save his life.”

The double meaning hits you square in the chest, causing your breath to catch, and you observe Abby being struck by the same brutal force.

You reach out your hand and find she’s already clinging to it.

----------------------------------------

Each week brings fresh growth and expansion to the greenhouses, as they continue to thrive.

This is the first year your town has made substantial trades with other communities, and it has brought about a remarkable transformation.

Unlike Isaac, Abby’s approach involves placing equal weight on both forming treaties and nurturing long-lasting relationships.

Prior to the stadium’s collapse, most had already observed this trait in her, so it came as no surprise when many of the survivors and soldiers distanced themselves from the WLF and instead opted to follow Abby.

In the beginning, the situation was grim, and you were anxious that they might betray her, but their shared difficulties only fueled their determination to remain a cohesive unit.

Humanity continues to surprise you with its remarkable ability to inspire hope.

“Carrots or beets?” you mumble to yourself, perusing the lush aisles.

It is thanks to the bravery and endurance of your people that you have the luxury of thinking about what you will prepare for your family’s dinner.

Abby has a fondness for tomatoes that are crunchy and seasoned with a sprinkle of salt. Once they become squishy in the middle, she doesn’t hesitate to toss them into the pigpen. You pull a few from the vine with a satisfying tug, their deep red skin firm and smooth.

While she’s a total snap pea enthusiast, obsessed with their juicy pods, her favourite pastime has become flicking the peas across the kitchen with her spoon. It creates playful chaos that your child eagerly joins in on, but you’ve caught one in the eye a time or two.

You drop only a few handfuls into your basket, as you prefer to see the nutrients being consumed rather than flung across your linoleum floor.

It’s no great loss as potatoes are Abby’s true obsession, anyway—so much so that she keeps a clandestine garden dedicated solely to their cultivation in the backyard.

Abby’s meticulous care of the vegetable crops, ingeniously built out of rubber tires, keeps you going when you’re drowning in your thoughts by the kitchen sink. Your heart spills over with a bittersweet ache as you witness her skill in teaching valuable lessons to your child, always with a touch of fun.

----------------------------------------

Upon returning home from the greenhouse, the unexpected sight of two leather boots greets you, their muddy soles peeking out from the end of the couch. Inching forward on silent tiptoes, you notice Abby is indulging in a rare afternoon nap.

Her work ethic hasn’t changed in the slightest, her muscular hands calloused from keeping the community in one piece, but she no longer embarks on any overnight journeys—a blessing you value every morning as you wake up beside her.

Leaning against the bench of your breakfast nook, you watch her chest rise and fall with each breath, grateful that she is finding serenity through rest. It has taken years to convince her it’s okay to take a break.

“You’re welcome to join me,” Abby murmurs, voice muffled by the couch cushion. “Whenever you’re done being a creep.”

“Damn it, Abby,” you huff. “How long have you been awake?”

“Since you walked through the door.”

“Great,” you say, bending over to collect a pile of wooden blocks spilling from the back of a toy truck. Before shuffling across the carpet to put them away, you can’t resist tossing a block at Abby’s backside, laughing as she grunts in protest. “I’ll get you one day, mark my words.”

“You almost had me,” she says.

Her drowsy gaze lingers on your body, tracing every curve and contour. While you run your fingers through your hair, suddenly aware of your appearance, she adjusts herself to make space for you.

“How long before our rug rat gets home?” Abby asks.

Your stomach flutters as you hear the subtle shift in her tone.

“Any minute now,” you say.

She nibbles at the dry skin on her finger, deep in thought about her next course of action.

Though you’re always together, it’s challenging to find moments of intimacy with a five-year-old running around wanting to play airplanes with Abby every twenty minutes and crawling into bed between you in the middle of the night.

“If you’re in the mood,” Abby says, moistening her lips with a slow lick. “I think I can get you there in under a minute.”

Her cunning smile stirs up a flash of desire, heat thrumming deep inside you as the temptation draws you to her like a magnet. It’s been such a long time that you suspect her forecast on your ETA is right on the money.

“Here?” you ask.

“Well, I can take you to bed,” she says. “But you won’t be leaving it.”

Sitting up on the couch, she gestures for you to park yourself on her lap.

You rush to close the curtains in the dining room and check that you’ve locked the front door. On your way back to her, your shirt hits the floor, causing her blue eyes to widen, struck by the pleasant view.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Abby murmurs.

“Takes one to know one, my love.”

Without warning, Abby pounces forward, taking your wrist and guiding you to straddle her. Sparks spread for miles in every direction as her calloused hands become reacquainted with your body. She moves slowly, painfully so, stopping to trace the dip and swell of each scar she lands on. Just when you’re certain she’s missed a spot, her fingers flex and the smooth bed of her nails backtrack to cover the ground she neglected.

“I’m so in love with you,” she whispers.

With tenderness, you cup her face in your palms and take a moment to appreciate the new freckles that have surfaced on her cheeks.

“Show me,” you say.

Abby sets a match to every cell in your body as her slick tongue darts out to taste your lips before trailing down the column of your neck to your collarbone. Looking up at you through her long lashes, you see that she’s already panting as you drag your fingers across her sculpted shoulders.

You help her undress, slipping her shirt over her head. She’s breathtaking, every edge of her swollen and defined, but she’s so soft when she looks into your eyes.

“You’re perfect,” you say.

Your arms tingle with goosebumps as she teases the sensitive parts of you that make you writhe, pausing to whimper against the shell of your ear.

“You’re perfect,” she murmurs. “I want to fuck you forever.”

“Can I try it like this?” you ask.

She hisses with anticipation as you gingerly push her knees apart, heat pooling below your navel.

“I’d fucking love that,” she says.

She helps you settle with one leg on either side of her thigh, before sliding her hands to your hips with delicious pressure. The friction from the seam of your pants intensifies as she encourages you to grind against her.

Her lips graze yours with a gentle, electrifying touch, leaving you moaning into her mouth, welcoming the stimulation.

“You’re down bad, baby,” she says.

“Watch it,” you say, relishing how swiftly your warning turns her on. “You’re down just as bad.”

“Fuckin’ rights I am—look at you,” she growls.

Gently unraveling her braid, you marvel at how it has grown in length since you last untangled it. Abby’s hair is incredibly soft, even softer than the fuzz of an orchard peach, and when her fingertips dance up your back, you know she’ll taste sweeter.

“Close your eyes,” Abby whispers.

The wild friction spreads as you grind your hips in rhythm with hers. Each searing kiss across your jaw tightens your spine like a bowstring as your busy mind fades, building a hot coil inside you, matching the increasing greediness of her mouth.

“That’s it,” Abby says. “Take what you need.”

Rocking yourself harder against her, the frenzied motion shoots all the way to your toes. She whines, her breath against your neck making you shiver.

“Please don’t stop,” Abby begs.

When a sudden, jarring knock at the door leaves you both frozen in absolute shock, the feeling of devastation hits you instantly, dousing you in a bucket of icy water.

“Are you kidding me?” you mutter.

Abby lets out a frustrated, breathless laugh before her head falls onto the back of the couch. Unable to resist, you join her, resting your forehead against hers.

“We should do this more often,” you say.

She lifts you up to place a tender kiss on your bare stomach before helping you to your feet.

“You’re hilarious,” she says.

Abby hollers over her shoulder, disappearing down the hall to splash cold water on her face.

“I’m making this happen. I don’t care if we have to climb up to the roof.”

The pounding on the door gets louder, this time coming from four different hands as far as you can tell. You quickly slip your shirt back on, giving it a once-over to ensure it’s not inside out.

“Yes, you do. You’re terrified of heights, remember?” you say.

“I dangled out of a helicopter for you. I think I can figure out how to rock your world ten feet off the ground.”

As soon as the door opens, Manny’s beaming smile suggests he didn’t miss much of your conversation. With a cheerful squeal, your tiny human launches themselves at you, their little arms wrapped around you in a tight hug.

Abby sneaks by to grab a bottle of water from the kitchen, while Manny shoulders his way past you to antagonize her.

“Should we come back later?” Manny razzes. “It looks like you haven’t finished your reps.”

“You’re about a day late and a dollar short, fucker,” Abby groans. “You have the worst timing, ever.”

“Bad word, Mama!”

“Yeah, you better watch your mouth around the little one, Abs,” Manny says. “You need to set a good example.”

Squatting in front of Caelus, she apologizes for her foul language and reaches for the folded piece of paper in their hands. It’s a picture of a helicopter and she’s captivated by it, studying every intricate detail.

“You made this all by yourself?” she asks.

“Miss Dina helped me with the udders,” Caelus says.

“Do you mean the rotors?” Abby asks, her face twisting into the sweetest smile. “That’s what these great big blades are called.”

“That’s what I said, Mama.”

With a smirk on her face, Abby lifts the little one up to the fridge, basking in their excited chatter as they debate the perfect spot to place it.

Your refrigerator is a gallery of imagination. Most of the artwork consists of random doodles and images that Caelus has reconstructed by colouring enthusiastically outside of the lines with thick stripes of crayon.

“Do you two need a little alone time?” Manny asks, giving you a rowdy shoulder check and making you stumble.

You reach into the basket on the counter and toss a pea at his head. Turns out it’s fun.

“That depends,” you say. “Are you offering?”

You watch with delight as Abby and Caelus chase each other around the house.

Abby’s dedication to your family has taken your love for her to an otherworldly level. Her capacity for protecting others knows no bounds, especially with your child. She would move mountains for them, and you’d be right there beside her.

One night without little ears around couldn’t hurt, though.

----------------------------------------

When the raiders come, it’s in the dead of night.

Jolted from your sleep, a bad feeling in your gut unsettles you. The bedroom you share with Abby is calm, save for the long, sheer curtains, which flutter softly in response to the gentle wind slipping through the bedroom window.

With Abby’s arm draped across your stomach, her grasp on you unyielding, you’re loathed to disturb her slumber based on a mere hunch.

You do it anyway because if you’ve learned anything, it’s that your instincts on these matters are rarely mistaken.

“Abby, wake up,” you say.

Pulling you tighter to her body, she nestles into the crook of your neck with a sleepy sigh. The untamed strands of her tussled hair stroke your face, tempting you to succumb to her embrace and drift back to sleep.

You nudge her awake slowly, not wanting to startle her, just in case your worries are unwarranted. Her soft hums vibrate against your throat while her hand glides to the side of your thigh.

“Again?” she chuckles hazily. “I don’t know if I’ve got another one left in me.”

“It’s not that,” you say. “Something feels off.”

Abby’s head tilts upwards, her curious gaze fixated on your face, trying to gauge your expression. After the trauma you’ve all endured, it’s only natural for complicated feelings to come and go from time to time.

“It’s our first night without the kid. It’s okay to be a little on edge,” Abby explains. “Want me to help with that?”

Sated and achingly sweet, Abby lies naked and pliant in your bed after spending hours pleasuring each other. To turn her down, knowing what you’d be missing, seems like a criminal act.

“Can we do a sweep?” you ask. “I know it’s late.”

“Of course,” Abby says.

You understand that’s not what she had in mind, but when your head is swimming with quandaries, it’s hard to let go. Tracing your bottom lip with her thumb, she plants a tender kiss on the tip of your nose before showering your face and chest with a thousand more obnoxiously loud, undeniably passionate ones.

They’re wet and messy, and she persists until you’re giggling like a lunatic.

Hair disheveled, her skin dappled with sweat, she catches her breath.

“I’d follow you anywhere,” you confess.

When a disturbance erupts outside, Abby is on her feet in an instant, rummaging through the closet for her clothes and gear.

“Grab Caelus,” Abby commands. “I need Manny at the wall.”

----------------------------------------

Sometimes, despite a tempestuous start, everything falls into place.

Through her kindness and willingness to forgive, Abby has welcomed several people into the fold you’d otherwise expect her to shoot on sight. Back when she was still donning the WLF patch on her coat, it was highly likely that she would have.

All the weary wanderers have found redemption to be well worth the time and effort so far.

But on occasion, no matter how hard Abby tries, she’s forced to make the bitter decision to eradicate the threat to protect what she has built. You wager it’s one of those times as the distinctive crack-pop of her hunting pistol booms through the forest, and she returns to you spattered in blood.

The townspeople bear no grudge against her for the measures she takes to ensure their safety. While returning to their residences for the night, their gratitude is evident as Abby makes her way home with her head hung low.

You want to ease all her suffering, but the only thing you can do is support her with time and an abundance of love.

Following a scalding hot shower, she requests to face alone—her priority is to make sure you’re both safe before reading her little one a bedtime story.

Caelus fiddles with Abby’s knuckles, bruises already forming on the fragile skin.

“Did you hurt someone, Mama?” they ask.

With a sharp inhale, Abby’s nostrils flare and her eyes glaze over before she continues to turn the page.

Nothing is more devastating than seeing the woman you love overcome with shame.

“Yes, I did,” Abby says.

“It’s bad to hurted people, Mama.”

“You’re right,” she whispers.

Her eyes follow closely as Caelus tugs on her fingers, carefully examining the various scars that adorn them. Every mark on her body represents a chapter of both injury and growth, a living map of her experiences.

“Mommy doesn’t,” Caelus says.

It feels as though they’re verbalizing their thoughts, seeking understanding amid the ever-changing dynamics. Abby could recount dozens of hair-raising stories of similar situations you’ve faced, lives you’ve forever changed, but she simply nods in agreement.

“Why?” they ask.

“Well, you know how Mommy makes the pretty flowers grow and helps the sun make our food, yeah?” Abby says, attempting to make the most complex thing in the world more straightforward. “And how her hands work hard every day to turn the soil into the things we get to eat?”

With a nod, Caelus gazes up at her, their big brown eyes full of wonder.

“And you know how we need to have the scarecrow outside to keep the animals away?”

“Mr. Scarecrow protects the apples!” Caelus says.

Abby’s smile is so incredibly sincere that it tugs at your heartstrings. It brings to mind all the parenting hurdles she faces with her heart on her sleeve.

“Yes, he does,” Abby says as your little one uses their fingertip to trace the cartoon animals in their book. “And if we take Mr. Scarecrow away, the people we love might lose all their apples, and I just can’t stand for that to happen. It would hurt Mama’s heart so badly. Do you understand?”

Nodding, they furrow their brows, grappling with the influx of new information and attempting to make sense of how it relates to their own life.

“Are you Mr. Scarecrow, Mama?”

“Sometimes,” Abby says. “And you and Mommy are my apples. It’s my job to protect you.”

Caelus snaps the book shut in favour of cuddling her.

“Do you get scared?” they ask.

Abby’s gaze shifts to the ceiling, and as she holds your child, you’re reminded of how they still seem so small in her arms.

“All the time,” Abby admits. “Do you?”

“I’m really scared of Doodlebugs!”

“What the heck is a Doodlebug?” she asks.

Perplexed, Abby turns to you for answers.

When you give her a shrug, she knows what you’ve done without saying a word.

#abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby x you #tlou abby #lesbian

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catoslvt · 2 months

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Gally (TMR) x Reader

you were from Aris' maze, and the people who saved Gally saved you as well.

because Aris is like the male equivalent to Teresa, Gally is the male equivalent to you.

everyone sleeps in the same room in sleeping bags and stuff apart from people who may need checkups during the night (like Gally and you🥰)

Also there's still apples and shit cos idk

he has a nightmare about Chuck cos I'm sad.

I was meant to be sleeping over two hours ago, but I'm restless, my mind going over 100mph, I need to get up and walk about, try to tire myself out and maybe go get a drink.

I slowly stand up from my bed, trying to listen for footsteps, if the people who usually check on me during the night realise I'm wandering out of bed during the middle of the night without letting one of them know i'll probably be in a lot of trouble, but I need a drink so I really don't care.

As I slip out of my room/hospital room, I hear quiet cries coming from the door next to mine, Gallys room.

My heart stops for a split seconds, and I stop in my tracks, peeking my head into Gallys room. I realise he's sleeping, his eyes shut tight, and his face screwed up as though he's about to cry, and without second thought, I creep into his room, trying to keep my footsteps as light as possible.

I watch Gally for a few seconds before he starts mumbling, his voice breaking with every word and his sentences hardly making sense.

'Maze'

'Chuck'

'Stay'

"Gally." I say quietly, moving closer to his bed, but he remains asleep, his face tensing and twisting as the mumbling continues getting louder, I need to wake him up before Donnie or someone else comes to see what's wrong.

"Gally." I say, getting slightly louder, and as I touch his arm, His face stops twisting and making horrible expressions, and he mumbles one last word.

'Chuck'

"Gally." I say, my volume now getting increasingly close to my normal speaking volume, and I give him one last final shake, and his eyes slowly begin to open.

"What the fu -" He goes to say very loudly, and I press my finger to his lips.

"It's only me. Everyone's still asleep. You need to be quiet, I'm sorry for waking you up, but I think you were having a nightmare." I tell him and gally sits up and moves so his back is against the wall, and he pats the spot next to him for me to sit down beside him.

We've both been here for probably close to a year, we've both changed a lot since we first arrived both physically and mentally, adapting to life outside the maze where everything isn't given to us in a box and things aren't in perfect harmony, but we've made it work, we're close, which makes sense because in Gallys maze he was the male equivalent to me, or vice versa, I don't think it really matters though.

"It was just a stupid dream." He states, turning away from me.

"About Chuck?" I ask even though I already know the answer.

"Yeah, It felt so real, like I was back there killing him all over again." He sighs, and I gently grab his arm.

"But it wasn't you. You didn't do it. You had been stung by a griever, and it wasn't even him you were trying to kill." I remind him, trying my best to comfort him.

"Do you get dreams about Rachel?" Gally asks as he turns to look at me, his eyes instantly falling on mine, and I feel myself blushing slightly.

"Yeah, but they're just dreams, I've come to terms with the fact I'm not at fault for her death. WICKD is." I answer and he just nods before shrugging.

"Wanna go a walk? I'm hungry." Gally then asks as he turns to look at me, and I quickly stand up nodding rapidly.

"I'm so thirsty, that's why I got out of bed to get a drink, but then I heard you mumbling, so i came to make sure everything was alright." I tell him, and he lets out a joking 'mhm'

"Are you sure you didn't just want to watch me sleep?" He teases as he stands up and stretches before walking over to the doorway of the room, which hasn't had a door in god knows how long.

"In your dreams." I scoff as I follow him.

"Unfortunately, my dreams aren't that good." He continues as he leads the way to the places makeshift kitchen, my breathing stopping when we walk past one of the enterances to the sleeping room.

Once we reach the kitchen, I instantly find a bottle of water, Ripping the cap off and chugging half of the bottle as Gally finds two apples, keeping one in his hand and stuffing the other in his pocket.

"Can we go to our car?" I ask and Gally smiles widely with a nod.

our car is one one of the old banged up cars our group keeps in one of their garages. It's a good hiding spot because all the windows are blacked out, and somehow, every door is still intact.

"We can't stay for too long. Everyone will be waking up in a few hours, and god knows when someone will wake up to check on us." He says as he grabs my hand and leads the way.

"Do you think the car still works?" I ask as we climb in the back of the car we have claimed as our own private hang out spot.

"I'm not sure, wouldn't be much help to us anyway." Gally answers as he begins eating the first apple, offering me the second but I shake my head no.

"Well, we could always just drive away, maybe make our way back to the mazes, see if the grievers are gone, and if they are, then we could just live happily in the maze." I say, being completely sarcastic and Gally just laughs.

"You always have to find the positives in everything, don't you?" He asks with a smile and I shrug.

"I guess that's one of our biggest differences, eh?" He continues with a gentle shove to my side.

"I like that you're almost always negative." I tell him as i turn to face him, and he just smiles.

"and I like that you're almost always positive." He states, and I feel myself turning red as I look away and smile.

"We've known each other for like a year, and im closer to you than I was with any of the girls in my maze, and I was with them for like three years." I tell Gally as I slowly turn to look at him again, and as I'm speaking, I could've sworn I saw his eyes drop to my lips for a few seconds.

"I hated everyone in my Glade, so it's not hard to be closer to you than I was them." He remarks, and I scoff and look away.

"No, I didn't mean it like that -" Gally quickly says, and I try to hide my smile by looking hurt.

"No y/n, I didn't mean it like that." Gally says as he gently grabs my face and makes me look at him, and his eyes fall to my lips again, and before I even had time to register what I was doing, my lips were on his.

"Shit." I gasp as I pull away from Gally, instantly pushing myself against the door on my side, trying to get away from him but also still wanting to be in the same space as him.

"Why did you pull away?" Gally asks, pulling me away from the door and almost pulling me onto his lap as his lips meet mine in a gentle but quick paced kiss.

It seems like we spend hours in the car kissing, but it probably wasn't even half an hour before we're clambering out of the car, trying not to laugh.

"I really hope we haven't had checks." Gally whispers to me as we begin walking back to our rooms.

"I don't even care if we did, I'm too happy to care." I tell him as I stare up at him, now standing at the thin strip of wall between our rooms.

"I'll see you at breakfast?" He asks looking down at me.

"Save me a seat." I say with a smile, and he leans down and kisses me to the lips before pulling away and walking into his room, and I do the same walking into my room with the largest smile on my face.

#fanfic #romance #fiction #writing #wattpad #gally tmr x reader #gally tmr #tmr gally #gally x reader #gally maze runner #gally #x reader #the maze runner #maze runner

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mamasuellen-blog · 4 months

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Aziraphale and Crowley - Nightingale Analogy

After the second season, I started thinking of them both as if they were birds, specifically the Nightingale. Here's an analogy with scenes from Good Omens.

Symbolic Meaning of the Nightingale

The Nightingale is a charming bird, revered especially by artists, such as poets and writers who have been inspired by them and used them as symbols in their works throughout history and time. They are considered as a symbol of love and fidelity. This bird has inspired plays, songs, sonnets, folklore, poetry, stories, legend... It has cultural and mythological importance in various parts of the world. He is mentioned in several books that tell romantic, melancholic and tragic stories. Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman chose this particular bird to be part of the iconic story of Good Omens.

Some examples of stories about our two Nightingales over time.

When they met, they sang a millimetrically perfect melody on the same frequency, a song that only they could understand. A tune full of feelings, sensations and connections between two creatures. It brought harmony and meaning for them to stay together.

Color Detail

The Nightingale's plumage predominates in discreet brown and brown tones, with slight RED shades. Your chest is more GRAY in tone, with RED or WHITE tones.

The Power of The Voice

This bird plays an important role in the ecology of the region in which it lives. The sound produced by the Nightingale can help regulate the population of insects and other animals that are part of the food chain. Crowley and Aziraphale are guardians of the land and together they played an important role in keeping it safe. Maintaining balance is essential.

They are Territorial

They are very territorial and become even more so during mating season. They respond more aggressively to others who enter their territory, as they want to protect their love nest.

The Musical Richness of Nightingale’s Song

This bird's musical repertoire includes 260 sequences. His song has a double function: Seduction and defense of the territory. The Nightingale's serenade begins at dusk, continues through the night, and lasts through the early hours of the morning until dawn. It is possible that he sings during the day, even though this behavior is not that common. The most physically vigorous birds are also those with the greatest musical repertoire. Some sequences are sung just for your reciprocated love :

While other sequences only serve to impose yourself against other rivals :

When a Nightingale hears its partner singing, it becomes very active, attracted by the unique and special sensitivity of this melody :

Crowley moves, fascinated by Aziraphale's singing.

The most impressive thing about this bird is its musical repertoire. The Nightingale is capable of singing for hours without repeating the same sequence once.

Crowley and Aziraphale know several languages. Aziraphale *sings* Nightingale in French.

The Nightingale's song reveals a remarkable delicacy and great power. In its vocal production, cheerful and lively sounds predominate, combined with a strong whistle, a strong whistle to attract.

Crowley makes a loud whistle to attract Aziraphale's attention.

Serenade of Love

After a lot of harmonious song between a Nightingale couple, it's time for the mating ritual and one of them always has the task of building the love nest. In the case of our Nightingales, romantic gestures to develop the relationship always happen.

The construction of the love nest is done with great care and care.

This ritual takes place at night and consists of beautiful love melodies, like the music that plays at the ball. While one Nightingale makes a special vocalization for the occasion, the other feels attraction and moves a lot (dances) and vice versa. Aziraphale chose Crowley and Crowley chose Aziraphale. The two have always been each other's ideal match.

The ball dance is the ritual of these Nightingales.

Predators

Although Nightingales are discreet, their song always reveals where they live, which is dangerous, as it attracts predators who want to capture them.

When frightened, the Nightingale uses its song to communicate sensations and threats, warning other Nightingales of danger. Our two Nightingales are threatened. Nightingale Aziraphale needs to alert his companion of this ambush.

Nightingales are capable of emitting very complex melodies, so complex that they are still of interest to ornithologists in studies. The mixture of different songs caused communication between Nightingale Aziraphale and Nightingale Crowley to become disconnected. The warning song gives way to the melodious and sad song.

The Nightingale Aziraphale tried to warn of danger.

Nightingale Crowley also tried to warn of danger.

After singing intensely to Nightingale Aziraphale, Nightingale Crowley's voice becomes weak and the song that follows is filled with suffering. In his last hope, he gives one last trill. He tried to protect their territory, but was unsuccessful.

The Last Trill of the Nightingale Crowley.

In the end, without strength, Nightingale Aziraphale's voice tried one last song. He wished the fairest of all for Nightingale Crowley, but he didn't get it. Pain hit him in the chest, closing his throat.

In the series, the band of Nightingales was already in the process of migrating, moving forward in search of warmer areas. In the posters for the second season, you can see them leaving.

The Nightingale flock heads off to migrate. The Nightingale Aziraphale also goes to heaven, but a place that is not his home.

I'm aware of what Neil Gaiman mentioned about Rouxninol's singing on Tumblr, but I chose to ignore what he said. Seriously, that's clearly a bird's chirp. And thank you to the person who managed to hear a bird singing in the scene and informed the fandom of this information. Whatever it was, it was a bird call. Yes, I may be crazy for believing this, but I'm not the only one, other people also believe it's a bird's song.

The Nightingale, who had sung in the book and at the end of the first season, for me, who is writing this analogy, also reappears in the second season, even if in a more discreet way, with an almost imperceptible and low voice. What's really impressive is that we can hear him, when the camera focuses on Aziraphale's face, who is holding back crying with his mouth slightly open, trying to emit something, or was it the Nightingale Aziraphale who made this song?

The predator achieved its goal. He separated and silenced the birdsong.

Nightingale Aziraphale was captured and transported to heaven in a box. A sky without any freedom, a totally inhospitable place, outside of its natural habitat

Meanwhile, Nightingale Crowley, at the slightest sign of distress, quickly flew in search of shelter to protect himself from the pain.

One of the peculiarities of Nightingales is that they are loyal birds and do not adapt well when isolated from their companions.

They were the last nightingales to leave and unfortunately painfully separated, which makes part of this romantic story in Anguish. And this fits the meaning and symbolism of the Nightingale bird for writers.

In season 3:

“They’re not talking to each other.” = They are not singing.

Although they are separated, the singing is still present. A single song and many memories. “A Ninghtgale Sang in Berkeley Square” has a heart-like vibration within them. This music resonates in them, like a charged wave of energy that surrounds them and tunes them to each other, a vibration so powerful that it connects them to "us".

I am faithful to the theory that Aziraphale sent the song to Bentley for Crowley to listen to, as he also remembers and will never forget the memorable moments between them.

"A nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" is the song they can understand, the melody made sublime.

There is nothing that lasts forever, not even the pain of separation. The Nightingale bird's migration is temporary and on this journey they always return. The gang is always faithful to its place of origin.

In this way, in a flock, the nightingales Crowley and Aziraphale will meet and begin the freedom they so desire. The power of their song will be ineffable, allowing them together to destroy cages, traps and predators. Bringing harmony to their world.

In the end, Nightingale Crowley and Nightingale Aziraohale will flap their wings and fly together in synchronization, dancing in new airs, until they land on an apple tree branch, which is in a beautiful garden and there they will build a new nest. They will sing in a divine way, while exchanging vows of love, in a beautiful sunset.

Meanwhile, the Nightingale flock will be noisy for them on the South Downs.

I had a lot of fun writing this analogy and I hope you like it too. English is not my mother tongue, sorry for any spelling mistakes. Thank you if you made it this far. :)

#good omens #goodomensseason2 #aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #goodomensseason3 #south downs #nightingale

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