#i slept on it and this is where i landed

[bklynmusicnerd]

"Yeah, but in a relationship, any relationship. It's important to let the other person know you appreciate them so that you don't create barriers that delay any hope for reciprocation" - Jess Mariano (Gilmore Girls)

I originally wrote this GG quote down because I thought it'd be good for an analysis of Spencer's daddy issues but I feel like there's probably endless discussions about Spencer's trauma going on right now, so I'm repurposing it for some analysis on Trina's repressed trauma and how that coincides with her character archetype of classical heroine.

I think it's important to discuss that Trina's perspective in that argument (possible precursor breakup lol), while far more logical than Spencer, was also just as shaped by her trauma as Spencer's pov was.

I landed on classical heroine as Trina's archetype because it felt the closest to how she's perceived and treated by the characters around her. Trina is characterized as wise beyond her years, deeply empathetic, intelligent, selfless, and brave/proactive.

Whenever characters in Trina's orbit describe her as "special" or "extraordinary", they're typically referring to one of these classical heroine elements she exhibits. It keeps coming back to what Taggert said, she's the daughter of a healer and a strategist but at her core, Trina is a rescuer who leads with her heart and wants to save the world.

Trina's desire (or maybe even compulsion 👀) to save shapes every single one of her relationships. All classical heroine descriptions come down to the core elements of bravery and sacrifice. First thing about Trina that Spencer falls in love with? Her bravery when she chases him out of the gallery. What Trina was actually doing at the gallery? Prioritizing checking on Ava over her graduation party because she wanted to make sure she was okay. Sacrifice. I'm zeroing in on these two qualities for Trina's archetype because they speak to how Spencer perceives Trina (both the good and the bad of that) and they speak to what Trina convinces herself she's obligated to do for the people she cares about. Trina's idea of love is rooted in sacrifice. It's something that keeps coming up for her. She always goes back to utilitarianism, the greater good.

She puts her desires/needs last, especially if she thinks doing so will make the people she loves happy. She absolutely views that as a method of saving people. It also often becomes a method of avoiding the reality that the trauma she experiences impacts her. For Trina, her trauma is an inconvenience, a nuisance, a burden. Her default is to be the steady and stable presence for others.

The second Spencer framed this entire demon spawn situation as "protecting his baby brother" and started flipping out over his inability to do so, Trina went into sacrifice mode for him. She decided that she could endure retriggering herself with the entire Esme situation and how helpless she felt during her drugging and framing, if it meant "saving" Spencer and his demon spawn brother. She told Spencer she was "fine" and she convinced herself the hurt was "worth it" for Spencer's happiness.

This is the part of Trina's perspective that Spencer still can't see. Their relationship just devolved into the similar dynamics of their friendship, where Trina compromised herself to make Spencer happy again and again while she felt increasingly vulnerable and unprotected. The pedestal of heroine is a dangerous thing, and this is often the consequence of embracing the "rescuer" role in a relationship. One's vulnerability/fallibility over time is not considered or remembered.

Trina's slip of "finally" that set Spencer off wasn't just an insensitive mess up, it was a culmination of her biting her tongue until it bled for months about how Spencer's coparenting obsession was hurting her. Spencer is, in general, terrible at recognizing Trina's trauma because he's so myopic about his own but also because Trina has a tendency to push this narrative that it doesn't affect her. She is always "fine" because the people around her need her to be "fine."

Trina is going through her own arc of learning to come to terms with her vulnerability, her fallibility, in accordance with her strength. That it's okay to not always be the steady one, that it's okay to follow her heart, make mistakes and need people. And Spencer was supposed to help her with that.

He was supposed to be one of the few people that she could fall apart around and count on to stay by her side. So as much as Spencer feels betrayed by Trina not being the perfect support system and listening ear in that moment, Trina also felt betrayed by Spencer implying that he would discard her if he needed to.

He once again made her question her faith in him and probably regret every moment she was vulnerable around him. She grew to a point where she admitted she needed him in her life and Spencer turned around and tried to weaponize that in a moment of anger. Spencer lashing out basically sent the message to Trina that she can't count on reciprocity from him. That she can't trust him with her heart after all. She still loves him, but you could see the walls go up again by the end of that conversation.

And this is all coming at a time when Cyrus is also back and retriggering her as well. Her recurring, visceral refusal to be positioned as a "victim" again likely also applies to anything regarding the sociopathic mooch. She will never just be Spencer's ex to Trina. She will always be the girl who drugged her and tried to destroy her life. I think that, plus Trina's concerns about defending herself against Cyrus, have led to Trina reaching her emotional limits on sacrificing for her relationship.

All her triggers coming at her at once forced Trina into self-preservation mode. As much as we love that Spencer genuinely looks up to and respects Trina when she's in classical heroine mode, it's a catch-22 because that same reverence leads Spencer to not process her vulnerability and need for support seriously.

He's been sending a message to her that he's not a consistent safe space for her, he's volatile, he doesn't live up to his words to her, and Trina is reacting to that as much as Spencer is reacting to his own grievances with Nik. Yes, she has classical heroine tendencies, but she's still vulnerable and affected by her traumas. Right now, she is in a moment where she wants to feel safe, and unfortunately, Spencer is not making her feel safe in their relationship.

#general hospital #trina robinson #this is going under a cut because it's a lot #i slept on it and this is where i landed #but i wanted to get out that trina is also having a trauma response and how that's shaped by her archetype #spencer cassadine #i think spencer absolutely ignited trina's trust issues in that convo #and when the portia stuff comes out it's only going to get worse #prayer circle for our classical heroine 🥲

[camels-pen]

consider sanuso bodyswap where Sanji is of course "admiring" Usopp's body and Usopp is trying desperately to keep himself from getting worked up so that he doesn't light himself on fire.

Luffy and Chopper are not helping. They are in fact doing the opposite of helping. They've ramped up their pranks and are doing anything possible to get Usopp angry so that he combusts, freaks out, and then dives into the ocean to put himself out. They think it's hilarious.

Nami and Brook are Also not helping, since they're conspiring with Sanji to put on a fashion show with Usopp's body. Sanji called it "not wasting a precious opportunity to get him in something other than overalls". Usopp called it mutiny and he was gonna- dive into the ocean, holy fuck Sanji why is it so easy to catch fire?!

Best part about this is that Sanji assured him, several times, that his body doesn't get hurt by catching fire. Usopp still jumps into the ocean every time.

Robin pipes up at one point, asking if Sanji was immune to just his own flames or all flames. Sanji just kind of shrugs and said it depends. Franky, having just been leisurely watching all of this gets an idea. Would his Franky Fireball hurt Sanji's body or just give him more fire to work with?

He tries to coax Usopp into agreeing to test it out and, somehow, he manages it. Albeit, Usopp is all knocking knees and chattering teeth, a very odd sight from 'Sanji'. As part of the deal though, he can only shoot a fireball the size of his hand.

Usopp meant his small hand. The one Franky used for tinkering and fine detail work. He did not, however, clarify this.

So, when a fireball the size of Franky's big hand comes out, well. Usopp runs for his goddamn life.

It takes him a few moments- and the voices of his friends sounding distant and below him- to realize he hadn't, in fact, run to the men's quarters, but rather into the fucking sky.

And oooooh, boy he is gonna kill Sanji one of these days. Why was his body's first fucking instinct when running to go up, what the actual HELL-

Usopp lit himself on fire again.

He curses out Sanji as his Sky Walk fails in the same moment and he plummets towards the deck.

#one piece #sanuso #nemotime #usopp the first time he lights himself on fire: WHAT THE FUCK WHAY THE FUCK WHAT THE HELL OH GOD OH F- #oh ndvdggdvdv okay listen. listen. omagine Zoro's been asleep this whole time. and he misses the memo that there was a bodyswap. #and he wakes up to 'Sanji' kicking him abd immediately goes into fight mode... and then is really fucking spooked #bc 'Sanji' is blubbering about Zoro going to kill him and that he couldnt die this young and Zoro's just. Still as a statue. #Literally cannot compute. #and then 'Usopp' comes up to him. threatening him and calling him names the way he was expecting from 'Sanji' #Brook: oh dear he mustve slept through all the commotion. Zoro-san! Usopp and-! #Nami covering Brook's mouth: No wait i smell a money making opportunity #shes gonna con him. idk how or with what yet but shes definitely gonna con him #hes gonna be sooo pissed when he finds out she conned him but his usual outlet for physical violence is currently indisposed so. lol. lmao. #i like making zoro suffer idk why its just funny #wait wai what if Usopp didnt trip on him what if when he plummets to the deck he lands on Zoro lmfao #also Franky's standing there like 'Why did you dodge it?!' and Usopp is right back to trying not to light himself on fire again lol #oh n Jinbei gets roped into the fashion show stuff #where he incurs 'newbie's first debt to Nami' #damn now im thinking about him slightly concerned about all this spontaneous combustion and then Robin saying something to make it worse lol #ANYWAY MORE IMPORTANTLY the real tragedy of this post is that because Usopp's constantly worried about Combusting #it never really sinks in how blatantly Sanji is checking out his body + enjoying doing that fashion show #and because of Sanji 'enjoying the view' he never notices the brief moments where Usopp quietly does the same #before being interrupted by Luffy and Chopper coming out of nowhere wanting to roast marshmallows on Usopp's leg #okay im done were done im good its bed time gnight gmorning gday to all

[fisheito]

how would you eat/cook each nukani character

oh noooooooooo (holds my face in great contemplative agony) u can't do this to me

Eiden: oh mein gotTtTtt getting my hands on eiden would be like receiving an entire cart of summer fresh-from-farm produce. or an entire cow carcass . i would have SO MANY PARTS and SO MANY WAYS to prepare him and every part of him would taste delicious in its own way. there's no way i can ONLY cook eiden one way. i'd have to put him thru every process possible (true to his versatility). i thought about spitroasting him (for the joke) but that's too much eiden for one method. i need to covet him like the king tuna at the fish market as i take him apart piece by piece look. i am frying him like egg for a fast breakfast. i am meticulously grinding him to a paste in a traditional mortar and pestle. i am using him as pesto AND as dipping sauce. i will dehydrate him and drink him as tea. he will be roasted . braised. devoured raw in ceviche. i'll infuse him with vinegars! syrups! oils!! is there a way to make a sourdough starter but it's eidough starter so i can just keep him on my shelf and feed him every day and pass him down for generations? i want eiden for every meal of the day prepared 1000 ways

Aster: would aster taste like blood or the absence of it? hmmmm..... i guess it depends on when he feeds! maybe if i bite into him after a feeding session, he'll burst like a cherry tomato. but otherwise i feel like giving aster the sashimi treatment. put him all fancy on the plate with some garnishes after i treat him with a light citrus wash or smth. a fresh cool flavour!! i'm tempted to make some sort of beverage out of him. dilute him into a fancy mocktail of strange spirits and woody spices. aster juice?!?! looks like pink wine???! i have to treat this one like i'm spoiling him with gifts. he'll probably end up on the artisanal charcuterie board with the fusion jams and marmalades...

Morvay: i feel like he would have a very...particular aroma. he eats a very specialised diet so of everyone in the clan, he has to follow "you are what you eat", right?? my first instinct for some reason is to cure him. like, turn him into prosciutto. if he's gonna have a funky smell, might as well turn up the salt and cure him. tie him up and lock him in the carefully controlled environment of the curing basement. dark... surrounded by other meatbags... slap him around every now and then. slice him up thin and put him on that fancy cheese board with a bunch of other strong smelling foods. slurp him down him with a glass of astringent aster juice to balance out the richness of the morv

Yakumo: soup. he's getting souped. it's only right. might split him half and half into one soup and one stew. maybe the soup will just be a concentrated essence of snek-style broth. like a clear, warming bowl of pho that is DISTILLED YAKUMO and doesn't need much else besides some fave spices to accompany the flavour. as for the stew? i just straight up like stew and it can be so nutritionally complete. so he's going in the classic comfort stew. chunks of yakumo and seasonal vegetables simmered to make a thick hearty pot of glorp. maybe add some alcohol to it if i want to live dangerously. he will sustain me for days to come. anything that i do not turn into soup? i'm going to steam him. a mild little parcel of wrapped yakumo, gently steamed for a hot minute. yakumo tastes best to me when a little wet.

Edmond: to honour his thick sugary ass, i have to turn edmond into some sorta dessert. turn the defrosted ice queen into ice cream? now i could just put edmond in a pot and reduce him until he turns into a syrup but then i would waste all the extra good bits that make up edomon. u need the tsun with the dere and reducing him to pure dere is NOT balanced. he can withstand quite a bit of punishment so maybe i'll whip him up like a custard (by hand FIRST. if that's not strong enough, i'll use an electric hand mixer). turn him into an earl grey creme brulee where u can set him on fire then smack that caramelised crust before spooning out the goopy insides.

Olivine: i feel like i'd wanna enjoy olivine in his least processed form. just enjoy the pure marbled goodness of well-exercised, tender oli. so why not a steak? medium rare to rare? just a little pan-sear and we can chew on him all we want. (i considered searing on a grill, but it's easier around here to get a pan instead of a grill. and oli is all about being accessible to the greatest number of people.) on the other hand, that might not honour oli's nature. he, too, can stand up to a lot of punishment. he might even like it. so part of him can be the relatively unprocessed slab and the other can be a cutlet. that way i can beat him with a hammer, dredge and bread him, then toss him into the deep fryer. to be served with a variety of heavy or creamy sauces.

Quincy: this man is OLD and TOUGH and he probably tastes like every bit of wildlife in the forest combined. then again, he's also always sleeping so does that mean his meat is quite relaxed and i don't have to tenderise forever to be able to chew it? quincy probably eats the simplest diet (no processed microwave preservative type cocktails in here) so he'd be best appreciated in an equally simple dish?? i'd like to skewer him. make him bite-size and cook him over a campfire. alternating with simple salt vs. intricate dry rubs bc i'm not sure which i'd prefer. if he ends up being tough, i'll let him hang out in a savoury marinade for however many days he needs (do NOT make me put a pineapple in there, mister).

Kuya: i lied. **THIS** man is OLD and TOUGH and SINEWY and A BITCHASS to deal with and i bet if i cut him at *just slightly near the wrong spot* then some mystery sac of foul gunk will explode all over me like a punk'd prank. i will take any excuse during the cooking process to abuse this one. grate his rind to infuse in the sauce. mince him for the physical satisfaction then throw him into the blender anyway. toss him violently into a fiery wok and start saute-ing him with every other ingredient ever. i hope you get stabbed by a bunch of pointy carrots. i'll broil him as if he's not already crispy. and I BET at the end of all this work, i'll have somehow have messed up and made him inedible. skill issue. at this point i give up, toss the entire kuya into the pressure cooker, and turn him into stew.

G/Karu: i wanna toss them like a salad (i think they'll have fun with that). i could go the traditional way and make wolf jerky. bring it on the road for a durable snack! if i could somehow chop these two up and turn them into furikake, they could become my convenient, reliable flavour injector for a quick bowl of rice. it's tricky because there are two distinct flavours and they gotta be treated differently to bring out their full potential. but they're also inseparable. what do i do??? i might just put them into my party-type foods where flavours are supposed to mix and it's the wildness of the combos that make it all fun. he's going on the 12-topping pizza!! he's being melted onto the giant tray of nachos!!!

Blade: CAN I EAT THIS? WILL I DIE? WILL MY TEETH BREAK OFF? i have to debone him. i bet there are pointy bits hiding everywhere. get my special tools out and pluck at him for over an hour (i must be thorough). might just put him in the microwave (he'd probably enjoy that). i feel like essence of Blade would also do well as a bubbly drink. mix a simple edroid syrup with some club soda and some edible flowers to look pretty (low calories too!). if the legends are true and blade can adapt to any flavour, i might just turn him into a condiment or special spice mix. grind him to dust and put him in a nice glass container near my stove so i can add him to various foods (the weirder the combo, the better). keep the spirit of experimentation alive with Blade popcorn seasoning!!

Dante: i am gonna make him fragrant as hell. gonna smoke him over intricate spice combos or tea leaves and impart him with the most alluring lung-punchiest sniffs. i don't wanna be too harsh with him but i trust that he'll at least stand up to heat well. he'd probably complain about wasting time, but i'm not rushing the process. u will sit in the smoker and steadily break down over time. maybe after the smoke, i can tuck the odds and ends into a savoury saucy pie. bake him for an hour surrounded by a flaky buttery crust? i might also experiment with some fermentation, like a dante kimchi. i'm curious as to how he'd change flavours given time to age (and just relax for a bit, really).

Rei: i am pickling him. he's gonna become that sour salty lil accompaniment to every meal i have. he'll last forever and somehow never mould and no matter how long i leave him chillin in the fridge, when the time comes to put him on a bun, i know i can rely on him to not suddenly go limp. i still gotta be careful with him tho. can't just stick my fingers in the jar and introduce contaminants all the day because it IS possible to Spoil the Goods idk i just feel like i'd have to let him sit in SOME sort of marinade or brine. if i try to eat him raw i might turn 14 shades of purple before dissolving into radioactive bile

#this is something i never thought about until u brought it up #it felt like zizz pointing to this big button on my head like WHAT'S THIS? #and i respond: uhhm. i don't know. maybe you shouldnt- #zizz: presses the button #[a door on my skull swings open and my brain leaps out. landing on the floor with a wet florpch] #dude legit i was thinking about this for days #if you're wondering whether i was imagining real gore or just fun silly metaphorical cooking #it was oscillating between both. i can't tell where the mind theatre is right now. probably jumping between genres #last night i was tempted to erase my entire blurb for yakumo #and just go I WILL CONSUME HIM. ALIVE. RAW. I WILL VORE HIM STARTING FROM HIS FINGERs #then i slept on it and woke up with inhibition renewed so i left the blurb alone #the clan's all here! #asks

[fingertipsmp3]

People who get annoyed with me for always wanting to be on time & being anxious about being late to stuff would not last two seconds with my family tbh

#my granddad has showed up to stuff a day early ON PURPOSE before #or many hours early. if he’s not the first person there he thinks he’s late #one time we agreed he’d pick me up at 8:30 to get somewhere by 1pm (it would take us two hours to drive there. so he was already giving #himself 4.5 hours to drive 2 hours. and therefore planning on getting there 2.5 hours early) #and he showed up at 8 and was flabbergasted that i was still eating my breakfast and was not going to be ready to go for another half hour #sir what do you MEAN you want to give it five hours instead?? why do you think you need five hours to make a two hour journey #so then he drove like max verst*ppen and we got there almost three hours early and ended up sitting in somebody’s living room for those #three hours. i was so annoyed. i was like ‘do you regret setting off this early now’ he has the audacity to say no #are you kidding me. we are in your sister’s living room. her tv is somehow bigger than the actual room and she has the sound up SO loud #we could’ve been just getting in the car now. i could’ve slept in and enjoyed my morning. but noooooo #the one time he’s been late in his life was when i had this bee situation in my kitchen where basically bees were in my kitchen #and i’d figured out how they were getting in but i didn’t have the expertise to block up the opening so i called him #and i was like ‘there are fifteen fucking bees in my kitchen right now john. please help me’ #he said he’d be there by 1. why did he show up at ten to three #i did feel vindicated when about two minutes after he arrived; a bee fell through the hole in the ceiling and landed flat on its back #on the counter right before both of our eyes & buzzed around angrily #even my grandma said ‘chuffing hell’. that’s how you know it’s bad #i think they were late because they didn’t take me seriously lol #personal

[justabunchofdragons]

HI LOVE WHY ARE YOU AWAKE AT *checks watch* FUCKING EARLY AS SHIT IN THE MORNING???

IM ON HOLIDAY!!! TIMEZONEYS :D its 10am for me rn ^_^

#ohhhg man but im taking this as an opportunity to tell u the craziness thats been goin on #saturday morning. 6am we wake up. 8am in the taxi. 10am arrive at airport. 2.20pm board plane. get told its delayed about 2 hours #try not to cry #get told we're leaving in 15 minutes sorry lol #4pm fly !!! and heres where it gets fucky . 10pm british time we land #but. 1am holiday time we land #THEN #baggage claim takes forever. 2am (?) find a taxi driver to take us to hotel 1 hour away give or take #we drive for 20 minutes and the back tyre bursts. we are literally stranded but drive on anyway. to a service station #that shouldve been 5 minutes away but ended up being more like 30 #oh my god. i was. oughgg so stressed. literally on the highway w ppl doing 80+mph and trundling along with a mangled tyre on the side #anyway we're alive! and ive not slept btw #slept like 20 minutes on the plane and another 15-20 in the taxi #so u know. probably should do that. but anyway :] #ty for ..worrying? jgkfjfk #theo!! #little people in my phone

[mercuryislove]

#i know it's very selfish of me considering my dad is like. at deaths door but #halloween is my favorite holiday and i havent been able to do any of the fun things i normally do #and ive slept like. three hours in the last three days and ive had only one real meal since then #so naturally im very stressed and exhausted but goddamn. it is not fun to spend 16 hours in an icu room #with the grumpiest most stubborn old man on this earth #where i have to physically restrain him constantly because he has no short term memory and wants to go home #but im gonna go cry in the shower or whatever #taking it day by day!!!! hoping a meteor lands on me and kills me instantly

[jzmn8r]

Visual rep of me in an in n out

#ok let me recount my day yesterday #i woke up at 7 am eastern time (after going to sleep @ 2) #then we went to the airport and I had to do an interview for school @ 9:50 in the airport and we waited until 11:10 to board #we had to take a layover in Chicago but we stayed on the plane for our second layover to Denver international (I have beef w that one) #so the plane to Chicago is fine and I slept through it then to Denver the issues started #for context: I hate planes they’re so overwhelming and they make me miserable #anyways so I started to get a headache from the changing air pressure o something and wasn’t feeling well in gen #then we landed in Denver and we had to go to a different flight to get to California (we came in through a smaller airport hence the #2 layovers) by that point I was just done flying and it got to the point where I was just not hungry even though I barely had food #the plane just made me owie #and from Denver to California (not trying to dox myself rn guys) we hit turbulence #and my head was hurting and then my stomach was just flipping out and it wasn’t a good time #but we landed and then drove to an in n out for dinner (tradition) and I was starting to feel a little better and hungry so I INHALED #absolutely DEVOURED that hamburger oh my god #anyways we’re getting Jack in the box this morning and I’m so pumped #if coming here didn’t require going by plane I wouldn’t mind the travel time #but I fucking hate planes #anyways how was your august 9th? #jas yells

[protagonistscum]

*gently holds hc* yes i love when the traveler is morally ambiguous but tends to lean towards morally good bc that’s how how their friends tend to lean towards. it’s about their connection to their friends; rather than what’s truly right or wrong 

#also fics that write the traveler as ruthless... uhg my BELOVED #they only get involved if they care for the poeple who are in the situation OR the situation is fucking them up #ie. when REX LAPIS FELL FROM THE SKY. that situation fucked them up! so obviously they needed to get to the bottom of it. #the vision hunt decree? ayaka had to get the traveler to make connections to actually get involved in the entire situation. #i also hold onto the idea that they are not human. and therefore have a different connection to humanity and gods. #they are immortals themselves. but they're so used to traveling! did they ever actually get a chance to CONNECT to anyone besides their #sibling? like. home is where they are together. home isn't a place. it is a person. and they are always on the move. #is this like. the first time the traveler has gotten a chance to actually connect to people of different worlds? #like the abyss sibling CLEARLY got attached to this world while the traveler slept. #you dont want to destroy the heavenly principles if you weren't in love with the land that they destroyed. #was teyvat the first place they fell in love with? and is taking revenge for? #enough that they tell their sibling to figure out why they feel this way. by traveling the world. #despite the need to be together again. #and the traveler goes out and just. makes a connection to so many people. whom they would now drop anything for to help out. #the traveler is slowly falling in love with teyvat and the people in it #i know they're supposed to be the main character (therefore we are) but i project so much stuff that they are their own character now

[incendiorum]

tag dump #2

#⌜❝ 𝚃𝙱𝙳. so long. good luck. goodbye. ❞ ⌟ #⌜❝ 𝙻𝚄𝙲𝚁𝙴𝚉𝙸𝙰 𝙸𝙲. and after each midnight begins a new day. ❞ ⌟ #⌜❝ 𝙸. we are never what we intend or envision. ⟩⟩ #𝙼𝙰𝙸𝙽 𝙸𝙲. only a copy of a compromised creation. ❞ ⌟ #𝙼𝙰𝙸𝙽 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃. and if you make it out alive hold that bloody head up high.❞ ⌟ #⌜❝ 𝙰. is this what the resurrection feels like? ⟩⟩ #𝙳𝙴𝚄𝚂 𝙸𝙲. and when the sun comes up you’ll find a brand new god. ❞ ⌟ #𝙳𝙴𝚄𝚂 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃. slept in a murder scene last night. ❞ ⌟ #𝙳𝙴𝚄𝚂 𝙰𝙴𝚂 / 𝙸𝚂𝙼𝚂. it’s a little bit heavenly. a little bit sick. ❞ ⌟ #⌜❝ 𝙸𝙸. i’m the world ender & i’m back from the grave. ⟩⟩ #𝚂𝙴𝚁𝙿𝙴𝙽𝚂 𝙸𝙲. i am the burning temple. a throne of tooth and nail. ❞ ⌟ #𝚂𝙴𝚁𝙿𝙴𝙽𝚂 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃. this little beast was nature’s own error. grew like a tree; born to spread terror. ❞ ⌟ #𝚂𝙴𝚁𝙿𝙴𝙽𝚂 𝙰𝙴𝚂 / 𝙸𝚂𝙼𝚂. got high from a holy vein. crashed down in a hurricane. ❞ ⌟ #⌜❝ 𝙸𝙸𝙸. i wait on you inside the bottom of the deep blue sea. ⟩⟩ #𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝙲. just a memory left for dead and gone forever. ❞ ⌟ #𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃. lie where i land. let my bones turn to sand. ❞ ⌟ #𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙴𝚂 / 𝙸𝚂𝙼𝚂. abyssus abyssum invocat. ❞ ⌟ #I'm posting these and also tentatively poking tumblr to see if it remembers them :skull:

[mariamlovesyou]

tuned into Plestia's live with Rahma Zein's second account (she got shadowbanned). key moments:

plestia talked about her adjustment to living in australia. "it's 1:30am now and it's normal for me and many palestinians who live abroad to be awake hours into the morning. i am scared of sleeping. because of the time difference, i'm scared if i sleep i will wake up to bad news. in gaza i was scared of the sound of the bombs, here i am scared of the quiet."

contacting family and friends in gaza is near impossible. "sometimes i feel like a crazy person, calling 20 times in a row hoping that on the 21st time the call might go through."

on the destruction of entire communities and neighbourhoods: "i'm scared when i go back to gaza i won't recognise it anymore. someone sent me a picture of my neighbourhood, and i couldn't tell it was mine at first. all my favourite places, cafes where the aunties used to give me extra food and ask about my day, have been destroyed. i dread looking at my gallery or seeing snapchat memories because most of these people in the pictures are no longer alive."

rahma asked plestia to talk about one story that stuck with her. plestia said "i remember walking one time on the 'safe corridor', that's what they called it anyway, and i saw an older woman clutching onto a donkey cart where her son's body was, refusing to let go of it. i asked my colleague what the smell was, he said it's dead bodies under the rubble. it was the first time i familiarised myself with the smell. the son's body was decaying and the woman told me about cats and animals eating away at it. i've had children talk to me about birds eating away at their parents' decomposing bodies and not being able to chase them away."

"it seems so silly to go to hospitals for minor sicknesses now. i can't even think about how many palestinian children are going to be terrified of hospitals now. there was a girl who was taken to the hospital to get treatment for injuries by one of the bombs, and while she was in the bathroom another bomb landed nearby. the impact from that sent the ceiling crashing down on her.. she got another injury while getting treated for her first one."

"i hate how people talk about our resilience - as if it's okay that this is happening to us. we are only surviving because we have to, because we have no other choice."

rahma brought up the way family homes are set up in palestine and asked plestia to elaborate. "basically, there are floors. someone will live on the ground floor, and then their married son lives with his children on the floor above them, and then their successors above them and so on. so when family homes are targeted, they wipe out entire families. many families officially no longer exist."

"i used to wear my journalist helmet and vest all the time, felt naked without it, even slept with the vest on sometimes until i realised it only made me more of a target. they didn't give me any protection, only headaches and back pain."

"i am an optimistic person, i loved covering sweet sentimental things, like at my graduation asking parents of top graduates how they feel about their children graduating. that's what i love reporting on. i wanted to cover things like that when i came back to gaza, show the beautiful side of gaza that the media didn't really show, but i didn't have the chance." "do you think they'll give you right of return?" "i can only hope."

plestia mentioned how hard it was being a journalist with limited access to the internet, charging facilities, no mics, lack of equipment and how difficult it was uploading things. rahma asked her what's one story that wasn't really recorded or posted due to these constraints; plestia said "the evacuations. sometimes they informed us about them, sometimes they didn't. you have no idea how hard it was, everyone looking for their family members, making sure every one was there, taking to the streets in 5 minutes and not knowing which way to go. i remember i went to my friend's house for shelter for 30 minutes before the first evacuation was announced and we ran to another family's house, stayed there for 2 days before another evacuation was announced. me, my friend, and that family all evacuated together to another family's house. there were already so many people there seeking shelter, it wasn't just one family staying there. none of us knew how long we had in any place."

before october 7th, palestinians were used to limitations on electricity. plestia used to plan her day's tasks around when the electricity was working. "for example when the electricity was on from 12 to 4, i would say i will do my laundry and charge the phones during this time. life wasn't exactly 'normal', but all of us pray to have those days back in comparison to what we are experiencing now." plestia also said that cars are running on cooking oil now because there is no fuel.

on hygiene: "many pregnant women have to give birth without any pain medication or medical attention. once we ran out of medicine, that was it. women who had to get C-sections couldn't stay to recover or get followup treatments because someone else needed the bed. we have no water, no tissues, no pads, barely any bathrooms. in the shelter schools you have to wait an hour before even getting to use the bathroom because of how many people are there."

"something you don't hear about is how many people die because of sadness. there's so many ways to die in gaza, because of the bombardment, because of starvation, the lack of resources, but i also know many elderly people who died because their hearts couldn't take it anymore. i have been in gaza before and lived through 4 aggressions, but nothing compared to this one."

a recurring sentiment that was echoed in the video: "sometimes i thought to myself: who am i recording this for? because we've already shown everything, we've already talked about everything. everything has already been said, the proof is everywhere, nothing i talked about today is new." rahma said the first video posted about what's happening in palestine should've been enough.

she is 22 today. plestia's closing words: don't stop talking about us, don't stop boycotting, don't stop protesting, please don't get bored of fighting for palestine.

#this is all off the top of my head if i remember other key points i will add them

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Part 1

[Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4]

To not turn into a giant raging asshole hell bent on murdering people and destroying the world after everyone he loved died, Danny had ran from Amity with his chosen vice.

A bottle. That’s right. Even after Jazz’s talks about alcoholism as a poor coping mechanism as a form of self harm, he still chose alcohol. Or maybe that’s why he picked it, because it reminded him of her, right before the booze took the sting of grief off of her memory. He was never really all that good at listening to Jazz.

And now she’s gone, so it’s moot point. Danny really hated Nasty Burger.

Danny made it all the way to Gotham, bottle constantly glued to his hand. It’s better than Vlad’s creep-o-self looming over him all of the time. He bummed out on the streets, fitting into crime alley like a native. Danny learned to pickpocket. Not much, just enough for a bottle when his ran out. He stayed human. At first he tried to convince himself that it was because he didn’t want to be perceived as a meta in a city where Batman notoriously disliked metas. Then, as he sunk deeper, he admitted to himself in a shameful curl of a whisper that it was really because alcohol affected his human side much easier.

Ghosts need an ungodly amount of alcohol to even get slightly buzzed. Danny’s human side? Only one full bottle the shittiest tequila he could find could even hope to be more than buzzed. It sucked.

He’s spent two years being an alcoholic that didn’t actually get that drunk. Technically, underage drinking was a crime. But then again, so was being a vigilante ghost. So, whatever. He does what he can to dull the grief. Mostly, he slept on covered and hidden nooks on top of Crime Alley’s roofs. Gotham city had taken pity on him and cleared her smog clouds when he was awake at night. Stargazing helped, at least. It gave him a little hope. It gave him a little wish to change and better and live like he wants. But then the night ends and when the day comes, Jazz isn’t there. Sam isn’t there. Tucker isn’t there. His mom and dad are not there.

Danny always went back to the bottle, in the end. Not that it did much.

Which was why, when he saw three looming figures over a tiny child, Danny’s saving people thing flared with a vengeance and his surprised ectoplasm burned what little buzz he had achieved by downing most of the bottle away, leaving him stone cold sober and pissed.

Danny sighed, dumping the rest of the nasty tasting liquid out. There’s no point drinking that little.

He approached the trio, who were beating up an actual child. Ancients, he hated Crime Alley sometimes.

“Give me your shit, you little punk!” Asshole 1 decided to say like a typical mugger, raising his leg to kick the curled up kid below. Danny doesn’t let him land the kick, smashing the bottle on the asshole’s head before any of them clocked his presence. He pivots, pushing a bit of that extra strength he normally keeps on a tight leash into his hands, and punched the other two in a quick fashion, knocking them out.

With that taken care of, Danny turned back to the kid who was still curled up. Danny sighed again, the trembles in small shoulders plucking on his heartstrings.

“You okay, kid?”

The kid uncurls, and Danny stared. Holy shit, is he looking into a mirror? Blue eyes, black hair, and tanned skin. Holy shit, he’s even got similar jaws to Danny.

“Huh.”

The kid flinched.

“Y-y’er the drunk,” the kid flinched again, eyes darting to the broken bottle still clenched in Danny’s hand. “I- I ain’t got money, honest. Please-”

Danny blinked down at the kid, brain connecting the dots after so long without actual interaction. He’s panicking and staring at the bottle in Danny’s hand like it’ll kill him. Danny raised the bottle and the kid closed his mouth with a click, terror worming its way into the kid’s eyes.

“I wasn’t going to mug you myself, kid.”

“But- y’er the- the Alley drunk.”

Danny blinked. Did he get a reputation without knowing again? Goddammit.

“I guess. Am I famous or somethin’?”

“Nobody- nobody fucks wit’ ya.”

“I also don’t hurt kids.”

“…”

The kid stared at him dubiously and with a sinking feeling, Danny realized that maybe the kid already had some terrible experiences with a heavy drunken hand. He promptly chucks the bottle further into the alley.

“I drink, yes. But I’m also not the kind of scum that would lay hands on a kid, let alone anyone that didn’t provoke it first.”

“Oh.” The kid uncurled more, looking at Danny warily, more at ease now that the bottle has left the chat.

“Yeah. I’m Danny. Stone cold sober, right now.”

“…”

Danny waited.

“Peters.”

“Okay. Peters, do you wanna take their shit?” Danny pointed a thumb at the knocked out would-be-muggers behind him.

“Y… yeah, sure. What’s my cut?”

“All of it.”

Peters stared.

Danny shrugged and started looting.

"Y'er so fuckin' weird."

----

See, the thing is, Danny hadn't anticipated saving Peters- "'s actually Jason"- would result in having a duckling following him around. The kid, Jason, glared at everyone who even looked at them wrong. But that's not the problem, because Danny could take anyone who took issue with Jason's looks, it's more like there's a child following him around now and Danny doesn't want to be the reason Jason turns into an alcoholic. It's- well, it made him cut down on the drinking. He even got jobs- legitimate jobs that sucks out his his poor ectoplasmic soul.

Why? Because Jason's apparently homeless. While that's something Danny's okay with for himself, he can't ever condone that for an actual child. Jason's walking around in threadbare clothes and thin soled shoes in the middle of Fall, for Ancient's sake.

Danny grumbles as he piled a bunch of clothes into the shopping bag as he checked out. Gotham's Walmart is a different kind of hell, but Danny feels right at home.

Sure, the work might suck out his soul and he might hate being sober, but Jason's face every time he comes home to an actual place to live, warm clothes, and food was worth everything.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #DCxDP #dpxdc #jason todd #batman #crime alley #Danny: im gonna be an alcoholic #also Danny: a child needs help and I don’t drink anymore #Danny phantom’s saving people thing #drunk danny #alcoholic danny #but not for long #danny adopts jason todd #jason todd follows his big brother into being a vigilante #kind of #he becomes robin #but gets rescued by his long suffering brother every once and a while #alley drunk! Danny AU

[justanotherbirdbrain-blog]

Geology of Natural Disasters and How to write them into your fictional universe.

So, you want to write about a natural disaster to advance your plot and torture your players/characters even more? Let me tell you how, accurately.

I feel like unless it is a volcano, natural disasters are a pretty slept on plot drivers, and some of them are really cool and unique! Today, I will talk to you about land slides, earthquakes (And earthquake related disasters), and volcanoes.

Landslides: Probably one I see the least in stories, but one that would be incredibly interesting to write into a plot where they believe in curses. Landslides can happen along ocean bluffs, slightly hilly areas, and highly mountainous areas, this means it is something that can happen in most landscapes. But what can trigger a landslide? Mostly all you need to trigger a landslide could be just abnormally large amounts of rain, excessive deforestation (with a little bit of rain), or an earthquake. If you don't want to use deforestation or an earthquake as a catalyst, a really cool indicator that the land is slipping and may be prone to a collapse is J hooked trees.

This indicates that there is soil creeping slowly over time, and it may lead to a major landslide.

2. Earthquakes: Probably one of the easiest things to write, earthquakes can happen anywhere, but they are most common in places that are tectonically active areas. There are about three types of environments you can expect earthquakes to be common. The first is just rugged mountains, if your landscape looks like this, you should write in earthquakes. Associated hazards could be landslides, avalanches, and large falling rocks.

The next landscape could be a thin mountain range, next to the ocean, very scenic, but very dangerous. Essentially, I am describing a subduction zone environment.

Earthquakes in these areas could equal a couple different associated disasters. Scenario one: A very large earthquake happens, and the ocean begins to recede. This is a tsunami, enough said. If you are writing a tsunami though, please, please, do not write it as a large wave, thank you. Also, a common way people are hurt by tsunami's are from them going into the ocean because they don't understand a tsunami is going to happen.

Scenario two: A large earthquake happens, your characters are in a valley and suddenly the ground begins to liquify as the ground shakes, once the shaking stops, the ground becomes solid like nothing ever happened, except everything has suddenly sunk into the now hard ground. This is called liquefaction and it typically happens in areas that have loose dirt or lots of saturated soil.

Scenario three: There are a lot of small earthquakes, they do not cause a lot of damage, but you begin to notice that one of the isolated mountains has a plume rising. Earthquakes can indicate lava moving underground and the filling of magma chambers.

The next environment that can host lots of earthquakes would be regions that have a lot of really deep valleys and small mountain ranges (not cone volcanoes), but overall seems pretty flat.

This indicates a transform fault like the San Andreas. If you want to hint at there being earthquakes in the area, you can show fence posts that are suddenly several feet out of line at a dilapidated farm or something similar.

(These earthquakes are different because they are cased from sideways movement, not an up-and-down movement this hint can only be used for this environment). Volcanoes would not be found here, but liquefaction and landslides could still occur here.

4. Volcanoes: If you thought earthquakes had a lot of information, volcanoes do too. First you have to ask yourself, what kind of volcano you want to have, what kind of eruption style? So lets break down the kind of eruptions you can have and what their landscapes look like. Hawaiian Shield volcano: This will produce a smooth fast lava, the landscape typically is pretty flat, but there will be small cones and the rocks can have a ropey or jagged texture and the rocks will be almost exclusively black to dark red.

Stratovolcanoes: These will be solitary mountains, typically, that look like perfect cones (Picture shown in earthquake section). These will have large ash cloud eruptions and pyroclastic flows, they may have some lava, but typically most damage is done from the pyroclastic flows (think Pompeii). Some hints of these, other than describing the cone features (which can be hidden by other mountains), would be to talk about petrified wood! Trees can get fossilized in the ash and I imagine it would be very strange to find this rock that clearly looks to be a piece of wood, but its a rock. Subcategory- Calderas: Used to be a large stratovolcano, but they erupt so explosively that the entire cone collapses and creates a basin.

There are a lot of kinds of volcanoes out there, so forgive me for just putting an infographic and then talking to you about these really rare types of eruptions that I feel like people should know about.

Okay lets talk about blue lava (kind of) and black lava

You will notice the lava is still red in the middle of this image, during the day these would look like a normal eruption, but at night the burning sulfur would make it appear blue. Some cool features other than this, would be that any water in the area would become very acidic and burn the skin due to sulfuric acid. This would again be really cool if you are trying to describe a 'cursed' land.

Black lava: This happens only in the east African rift I believe, but it is a carbonatite lava, but if you are writing in a rift valley (where the continent is tearing apart to form a new ocean) this might be a cool feature. The lava will cool white and will quickly erode, it makes for a very alien landscape!

Anyway as always, this is supposed to be an introductive guide for the basics of writing geology to create cool landscapes/features into dnd or fictional universes, if you are a geologist please understand my oversimplification of tectonics, I didn't want people to run away.

#geology #rocks #stem #dnd #dnd worldbuilding #worldbuilding stuff #fictional world #worldbuilding #fictional writing #writing resources #creative writing

[thestarsarebrightertonight]

thats that me espresso!! // theodore nott x fem reader

playlist: espresso - sabrina carpenter

summary : theodore nott hasnt slept in days, and it was for one reason only. (or one person)

fluff , hufflepuff reader , y/n , short

lucky girl syndrome!! (another theo fic) masterlist

rubbing his eyes wearily , theodore nott poked at his breakfast , feeling the eyes of concerened friends burning into him.

"what?" he asked blankly finally looking up at his friends.

"theo is something wrong?" lorenzo asked with genuine concern snaking through his face and tone.

"yes something- no someone is wrong!" theodore said angrily as he dropped his fork , "i have not slept well for days!"

"why?" draco asked , not really that bothered by theodores insomnia , just wanting to get the tired vibe out of the friendgroup.

"because..beacause!" he started before pausing each time , finally sighing and saying in a hushed voice ,"her!"

his whisper shout and eyes staring into the distance made the whole friend group follow his eyeline , landing on a hufflepuff girl talking to her friends , y/n.

"stop staring!" he said loudly making the whole group turn back to him , drawing their eyes away from the girl , eventhough theodore himself didnt look away.

"y/n? what has she done?" lorenzo asked , confused why his hufflepuff friend would be causing theodore struggle.

"great , of course youre on a first name basis with her!" theodore seethed in jealousy finally tearing his eyes away from your smiling face , "shes not really....done anything.. God i dont know shes like an espresso , i cant look at her without getting a burst of energy! and i cant stop thinking about her its keeping me up all fucking night!!"

the group watched as theodore ranted , exchanging knowing looks before pansy decided to speak up , "theodore dont get angry with that poor girl , its not her fault you like her!"

"how could i ever get angry with her," theodore muttered and stopped talking , until matteos laugh filled the short silence , "what are you laughing at dickhead!" theodore snapped , assuming matteo was laughing at him.

"oh nothing im just laughing at diggory trying to chat up your girl," matteo smirked watching everyone frantically look back to the hufflepuff girl , only to see that she was still sat and talking with her friends , cedric no where to be seen.

theodore , who had stood up in a panic smacked matteo on the back of the head and angrily snapped at the laughing boy, "shut up man not funny."

"sorry , sorry youre really gulible ," matteo laughed to himself , draco smirking at the two.

"i shoudlve never told you lot ," theodore grumbled himself , going back to poking his food.

"dont be like that theo , just a bit of fun , " blaise smirked as theodore threw him an angry look.

"no but seriously theodore , you cant let yourself be exhausted because of a girl" pansy said.

"shes not just a girl , shes nice and funny and beautiful and!-... im pathetic," theo sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his curls.

"im done with all this sappy , annoying shit , go ask her to hogsmeade or ill do it. and trust me i wont rest until she falls in love with me, " draco warned , attempting at making his friend confess.

"DONT!" theodore shouted at him , immediatly letting embrassment sink in as everyone , including you, turned to look at him, "ill....do it"

lorenzo and pansy spoke words of encouragment as the petrified boy rose from the table , draco , matteo and blaise forgetting the whole ordeal and discussing quidditch instead.

once theodore was far enough from the table pansy turned to enzo , "why is that the most emotion ive ever seen out of him in our whole lifelong friendship?"

"dunno , hufflepuffs are really effective i guess," enzo shrugged before they both skipped to another conversation and started eating again.

----

theodore walked towards your table with a confident stride , stopping behind you and sliding in next to you on the bench , close enough to the point that your bodies were pressed togther. as you jumped in suprise theo gave you a flirty smile and stared you dead in the eye.

"hi theodore , can i help you?" you asked wearily , glancing away from him and at your confused friends for a split second.

"yes, you can ," thedore smirked , "how about hogsmeade , this weekend , you and me?"

you physically paused as your mouth hung open , this was the second time you had ever talked to theodore nott and he was suddenly asking you out??!

"oh um....yeah - yeah sure id love to" you gave him a smile , a little cautious and very much confused.

"great , see you then beautiful ,"he winked, planting a kiss on your cheek before slipping out of the bench and confidently walking back to the slytherin table.

you looked at your friends with deep confusion, before going on to watch theo walk away , whilst your friends yapped about how hot he is.

-----

"so how was it?" pansy asked theodore as he sat down.

he quickly dropped his confident , cool face and let a wide grin bless his features , "perfect!!! she said yes! i walked up and acted real calm and collected ,and she didnt know i was nervous at all!!"

pansy and lorenzo smiled at him as the other boys just ignored him , uninterested. "thats great theo! so are you gonna be able to sleep now?" enzo laughed.

"like a baby." theodore grinned.

#harry potter #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #harry potter x reader #slytherin #hufflepuff #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #pansy parkinson #blaise zabini #matteo riddle #x reader #theodore nott x y/n #espresso #sabrina carpenter #fanfic

[propertyofwicked]

CROSS MY HEART - LN

warnings - smut!! MDNI!! soft!lando x restless!reader, sleepy sex, unprotected (stay safe yall), little bit of cockwarming ?

little one shot for a tired reader who just needs a bit of late night lovin <3

based on -> cross my heart by artemas

masterlist

she truly didn’t mean to start anything, y/n was simply trying to get comfortable. she was restless, the clock on the bedside table displaying 3:00 in bright red lighting mocking her. lando laid behind her, his arm laying haphazardly over her waist, holding her close to him, the other stretched above her head.

lando’s heavy breathing faltered for a moment, as she tossed and turned again, his eyes squeezing tight before squinting open to look at her. she was now laid on her back, staring up at the ceiling, lando’s arm still thrown over her as he moved to squeeze at her hip.

“hey,” he whispered, trying not to let his slumber leave him fully.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to wake you,” she apologised, whispering back at him.

“why are you still up?” he asked, ignoring her apology.

“can’t sleep,” she said, turning her head to look at him.

his eyes were still half closed, struggling to open with the weight of his fatigue. his hair was messy, matted down slightly from where he rested his head, a stray curl resting on his forehead.

“come ‘ere,” he mumbled, pressing a gentle kiss to her exposed shoulder before pulling at her hip, guiding her to shuffle back into his embrace. she felt his soft breaths blowing on her hair, trailing down the back of her neck, tingles shooting down her spine as she rolled further into his arms. her body moulded into his as though they were made for each other, each curve of her back fitted perfectly with his chest. her legs bent upwards, resting above his, feeling the dull warmth of his thighs spread to hers.

his hand resting on her hip, fingers drawing circles on her thigh, twisting the fabric of her shorts as he did.

“what’s wrong?” he asked again, sensing there was more to her restlessness.

“nothing,” she said with a sigh, “well, i don’t think there’s anything wrong.”

“the girl who sleeps anywhere anytime can’t fall asleep - never thought i’d see the day,” he joked, laughing lightly, his chest shaking lightly on her back as he did.

“maybe ive slept too much and now im doomed to an eternity of sleepless nights,” she replied, leading lando to laugh lightly again.

“right,” he started, “shut your eyes for me, focus on steady breathing.”

she nodded at him, hoping that lando could feel her response, as his eyes had shut again, his head rolling forwards to rest his forehead on her shoulder.

and so, y/n laid there silently for minutes, eyes closed. she’d just about given up counting sheep, trying to recall a long journey, even focusing on numbing her entire body head to toe - nothing was working. finally, she decided that shuffling backwards, further into her boyfriends embrace might help, maybe the white noise of his heavy breathing, or the warmth of his chest on her back would lull her into the deep sleep she needed.

her hips rolled back first, pushing into lando’s crotch as she did, her back moving to arch into his chest. but before she could get comfortable, the grip on her waist tightened, a small grunt escaping lando’s mouth as he held her impossible close to him.

“if you wanted me that bad, you should’ve just said,” he mumbled in her ear again, his hips jutting forwards slightly.

“i didn’t mean to,” she whined in defence, before considering the situation, “but since you mentioned it, and since i can feel a little problem forming…”

“little?” he gasped jokingly, “you’ve never complained about the size of it before.”

“ill think you’ll find i have,” she replied, her hips absentmindedly grinding down on his growing bulge as she spoke, “do you not remember the jaw pain i had after i suc-”

she was interrupted by his hand landing firmly over her mouth.

“don’t finish that sentence if you don’t want this to escalate,” he warned.

“and what if i want it to?” she teased, “might help to tire me out?”

“well in that case, i guess im obliged to help,” he sighed, jokingly conceding as his fingers tugged at the waistband of her shorts. her hand reached down to grab his, halting his movements slightly, she could feel his face contort in confusion from where it still rested on her skin.

“just pull them to the side,” she told him, “im too tired to take my clothes off.”

he laughed at her honesty, never one to complain about being lazy with his girl, especially when he himself was too exhausted to put his full effort into sex right now.

“yeah?” he asked her, needing reassurance before she nodded, mumbling a quick “please”.

lando’s hands reached around to y/n’s front, pulling her shorts to the side, running his rough fingers through her folds. his head near shot up in shock, pushing himself up slightly to look down at the woman below him, fingers still working through her heat, circling her clit.

“how are you already that wet?” he asked her, chuckling lightly as the moon’s soft glow illuminated the flush rising her cheeks, “all i did was press my cock into your ass and you’re dripping?”

“ok?” she replied, feigning offence, “all i did was push my hips into your cock and you got hard? you know, lan, most men wouldn’t complain when their girlfriends find them attractive,” she joked, exposing his hypocrisy with a giggle.

“this wet, though? all for me?” he asked again, though his voice no longer held it’s playful tone, it became almost possessive, proud of his effect on her.

“all for you,” she choked out, stuttering as his fingers circled her entrance, his thumb moving to continue his assault on her clit. he pushed into her, fingers curling in as he did.

“please lan,” she begged him, panting as he did. any other time, she’d be embarrassed how quickly she was falling apart for him, but right now she couldn’t think about anything but being full with him.

“please, what, angel?” he asked, smirking at her submission, “words, baby.”

“need you now,” she whined, rolling her hips to deepen his fingers, intensifying the pressure of his thumb on her heat.

“patience, angel. gettin’ you ready for me,” he grunted, hips still jutting sporadically into her every time she moaned out for him.

“i’m ready,” she argued, “i can take it.”

“you sure?” he teased, though his hand slipped away from her, pushing her shorts to the side again and tugging his boxers down to free himself. lando tugged at his length a few times, spreading precum down the shaft before lining himself up with her entrance. he felt her lean forwards slightly, moving her leg to raise it over his, opening herself up to him.

he pushed in slowly, feeling her walls stretch around his cock as she moaned out at the intrusion, soon feeling the cotton of her shorts brushing against the skin at the base of his pelvis. her hand reached back, gripping at his arm to stop his movements.

“need a moment,” she whined.

“who’s little now?” he joked, careful to keep himself still inside her, “’i’m ready, i can take it,’“ he mocked.

“shut up or i’m leaving,” she warned, grinding down on him as she grew used to the feeling of being full.

“sure you will,” he gloated, hand moving back down to her clit, pinching at it lightly as his hips began to thrust into her at a gentle pace. she couldn’t argue back if she tried, his warmth engulfing her as he held her close, strings of curses tumbling from her mouth with every thrust.

“love having you so close to me,” he grunted, his teeth nipping at the skin on her shoulder lightly, “so full of me. feel so good, wrapped around my cock like this.”

his pace remained gentle - his thrusts deep inside her, the tip of his cock hitting the spot that had her purring for him. the feeling of lando’s hands on her, gripping at her thigh, holding her open for him to slide in and out of her. his chest pressed up against her back, a light sweat coating his skin.

it was no surprise she reached her climax so quickly, overwhelmed at the feeling of him thrusting deep inside her, his body surrounding her every senses, soft grunts that travelled through her ears and straight to her heat - he was like a drug she could never quit. she came hard and fast, body shaking around his cock as her body grew limp. lando followed soon after, his strong grip holding her body still for him to use however he pleased.

his hips moved to pull back, to slip out of her slowly but her exhausted whines stopped his movements.

“leave it in,” she mumbled, face pressed into the pillow.

“what?” he asked, trying to disguise the mixture of shock and excitement he felt at the prospect of being so close to her.

“you heard me, lan. leave it in. want to feel full,” she replied, a small smile rising on lando’s face at her tired desperation, as she shuffled back into his warm embrace once again. his arms tightened around her again, her laboured breathing lulling them both into a deep sleep.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked #oscar piastri #LN4 #OP81

[freedomfireflies]

Pillow Talk*

Summary: The one where you and Harry both have insomnia, and decide to spend one very strange night together.

Word Count: 7.2k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, daddy kink, mentions of drugs, angst (w/ happy ending!), not suitable for Ramadan!

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Come on. Just one time.”

“No. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Probably. I haven’t slept in 32 hours.”

You huff as you hide yourself behind your door. You don’t even want to see him. Because you don’t want to have this conversation or entertain this idiotic idea. This is what Harry does. He plays games. He tricks and he ruins and if you open this door, you know you’ll regret it. 

“Poppy, please,” he calls, and you hear his forehead land on the wood as though to brace himself. “I’ve tried everything else, okay? It always works with you. I just…I wanted to try. See if it still does.”

You frown. “You realize how wildly inappropriate this is, right? Asking if you can come in just so we can sleep together?”

“Yeah, but that’s all I want to do. Sleep,” he insists again. “Really. I’ll keep my hands to myself and I won’t even talk to you.”

You consider this. Truthfully, you haven’t slept all that well since the breakup, either. And sure, you’ve longed for the nights when the two of you would fall into such an easy, simple, and incredibly effective routine. 

But he broke your heart. And now you’re both paying the price.

“Just one night,” he pleads again. “And if it doesn’t work, I swear I won’t bother you ever again.”

There’s a subtle ache in your chest. Just hearing his voice reminds you of the pain. Of the joy. Of every good moment and every bad one, all wrapped up in the same silky cadence.

You take a deep breath. Perhaps you’re curious, too. Even if you don’t want to be. Because maybe this will work. Maybe you’ll finally be able to rest and get on with your life.

Or maybe it won’t.

But at least if it doesn’t, maybe you can find some closure.

So, with that thought…you open the door. 

He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. Which makes you just a touch happy if you’re being honest with yourself. His usual curls are askew and unkept. The bags under his eyes are dark and his clothes are wildly wrinkled.

And you’re surprised. He’s been up for longer than 32 hours before and handled it much better. You wonder if his age is catching up with him or if there’s something else keeping him awake.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

But you don’t fight with him. He’s not here to fight and you accept his terms as you widen the door and allow him to step inside.

He nods gratefully as he slips into your living room, but his eyes linger on your face. Almost like he doesn’t recognize you, and it makes your insides turn as you shut the door and put a few feet between you.

“What?” you huff.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, you look…different.”

“Okay…?”

“You changed your hair.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. It’s nice.”

You cross your arms. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Another pause, and the silence feels heavy.

“Well…do you wanna…?” you eventually say, and he nods.

“Right, yeah.”

“Okay.”

You turn to lead him to your room and it’s…unsettling how normal it feels. Like an old habit rearing its ugly head once again.

When you get there, his surprise returns. “You changed your room, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Why?”

Your eyes roll as you angrily toss your blankets back. “This is the one room I associated with you the most. And short of moving, I needed something you hadn’t touched or tainted. So I made the room mine again.”

He thinks about this, attention lingering on the new paint on the walls and the new furniture in each corner. “I like it.”

“I don’t care.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Great. Can you get in the bed please so we can get this over with?”

Obliging, he slips off his shoes and joins you under the duvet. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again.”

“Never thought I’d have to say it.”

“Mm. You changed your mattress.”

“Obviously.”

“And the sheets and blankets, too.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there anything in here you didn’t change?”

“The carpet. But only because my landlord said I couldn’t.”

“Right.” He’s smiling again. “But you did get a rug.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice.”

“Bite me.”

He laughs now and you want to smack him. “I see you still get grumpy when you’re tired.”

“No, I get grumpy when my asshole of an ex shows up to my apartment at 3 in the morning demanding to be let in so he can sleep in my bed with me like a fucking child,” you argue. And you know you’re being snippy and maybe even rude, but he deserves it. After everything he’s put you through, you deserve to be in charge of your own emotions. 

You turn the lamp off and the dark room grows incredibly quiet. You’re both stiff, unable to relax when you’re this close. You don’t want to touch—not the way you used to. And you don’t want to be close or let your guard down, although you suppose you’ll have to in order to sleep.

And then he says, “I really did try, you know. To find another way to sleep.”

You look up at the ceiling and release a soft exhale. “Okay.”

“Melatonin, light therapy, cut out coffee. Even drank those…sleep mocktail things everyone talks about.” He shifts. “I don’t know, I guess my brain just wouldn’t turn off.”

“Yeah. I know.”

More quiet.

“I haven’t done any since we broke up,” he finally says. Gentle, like he’s afraid to break the silence. 

Your lashes flutter. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know what he means. “Great.”

“Yeah.” Another beat. “I thought it was work, I guess. Maybe the stress or something. I’ve been sleeping fine, but these past couple weeks…”

“Right.”

“And I just figured—”

“No, I got it. It’s fine, let’s just…let’s just try to sleep,” you say and he nods.

The bedroom settles and you try, you really do. But you can’t when he’s breathing so goddamn loud and shifting every two seconds and sighing like he’s in pain.

“What?” you eventually hiss.

“Are you dating someone?” he asks.

“What?”

“Are you dating someone?” he repeats. “Josie said you were.”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Kind of. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“We’re…we’ve been on a few dates. It’s not official.”

“He hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend?”

“Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t. I just figure you deserve someone that actually wants to date you.”

“Oh, do I?” You roll your head to look at him. “Funny, you didn’t seem to think so when you were dating me.”

“All right, touché,” he mumbles. “I could have been better, I know that. And I know I took advantage. You did a lot for me and I didn’t…I didn’t care.”

Surprised, you twist your fingers together. “Uh…yeah. Right. Thank you.”

His head rolls, too. And even with the dim-light, his eyes find yours. “I’m sorry, Poppy. You really did deserve better than me. And if you found it with this guy…I’ll be happy for you.”

You swallow before sighing to yourself. “I mean, I don’t know if I did. He’s…he’s really nice. But he’s so…he’s just…”

“Vanilla?”

Your eyes widen. “Yeah. How did you—”

“He was wearing Crocs with tube socks.”

You laugh—loud. “Oh my god, how did you know?”

“I might have looked him up,” he admits through a grin. “Wanted to make sure he was worth your time.”

“Yeah? And?”

“And he wears Crocs with tube socks. He can’t make you cum.”

Your features scrunch together as you gasp and look away. “Ew, Harry. It’s not about that—”

“It’s always about that. Come on, am I wrong?”

“You—yes. What he wears has nothing to do with what he’s like in bed—”

“So he’s not vanilla?”

“He’s…” You pause. “He…look, he really tries—”

“So, he is,” Harry finishes for you. “Well, at least you got some.”

“I…yeah. Uh-huh.”

Instantly, he turns onto his side, head resting in the palm of his hand as he studies you. “He couldn’t get it up, could he?”

“Harry,” you groan, and reach out to swat him. “Stop, it wasn’t that. We just…we were taking things slow. We did some stuff. Just not…all of it.”

“So what he’d do?”

“Harry—”

“Come on, we’re adults, just tell me.”

“Ew, no—”

“Listen, you used to get fucked good. I’m just trying to help you get back to that.”

You frown but do oblige. “I don’t know. He ate me out and I blew him. That’s it.”

“And…?”

“And…I don’t know. He was fine. He was good.”

“Sure.”

Your eyes roll. “Okay, he…he wasn’t really all that into it. He stopped after a few seconds and asked if I came. Then he said his jaw was tired and that maybe we should just switch.”

Now, Harry’s features scrunch, too. “Shit. What a fucking pussy. Ironically.”

“I guess. It could have been worse.”

“Really? Eating you out was always my favorite. What kind of asshole just stops if he doesn’t have to?”

You feel a rush of heat through your body as you look away. “I guess they can’t all be you.”

“Damn fucking right,” he scoffs. “Seriously, you still wanted to see him after that?”

“He’s cute,” you argue. “And nice. And yeah, maybe he’s not that adventurous but that’s okay. I don’t need wild sex all the time.”

He’s quiet. “How about just one time?”

You turn back. “What?”

“I—okay, I was just thinking…you know, one of the things we would do when we couldn’t sleep was…fuck, so—”

“Oh, absolutely not.” You sit up, as though to put some distance between you. “No. Forget it—”

“Poppy—”

“Don’t call me that,” you huff. “You don’t get to call me that ever again. Okay, I’m not gonna fuck you just so we can sleep—”

“It wouldn’t be just for that,” he argues, sitting up as well. “It would also help your mood, too—”

“Oh, my mood?” You glare at him. “My mood is just fine, actually. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty good if I agreed to let you in my apartment in the first place—”

“You didn’t have to. I’m just saying, if sex with him is gonna be bland, might as well get in one last good fuck before you commit to a lifetime of boring—”

“Oh, my god. It’s not a lifetime and you’re a fucking asshole—”

“Yeah. We’ve established that. Doesn’t change the fact that you need it.”

You stare at him. “Is that why you’re really here? To trick me into sleeping with you?”

He leans back. “What? No. I don’t trick people into having sex, it was just a suggestion—”

“Yeah, a pretty dumb one. Did you honestly think I’d say yes?”

“Yeah,” he admits haughtily. “Yeah, because we didn’t break up over the sex. We broke up because you’re an uptight—”

“What? Say it,” you sneer. “Say it. I’m an uptight bitch because I wouldn’t let you do cocaine.”

He scoffs again and looks off into the dark of your room. The argument lulls. “I could never do anything right.”

“That wasn’t the problem and you know it.” You pull your legs to your chest. “I wanted to move forward and you kept going back. You’re almost 30 and you still act like you’re 19.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to get married and do the whole white picket fence life,” he says. “Maybe I liked things the way they were—”

“No. No, you liked parties with your friends and doing drugs that kept you up for hours  and getting fired and leaving me to pay all the bills—”

“You didn’t pay all the bills and I told you I would do what I could to help—”

“Yeah. But apparently that included getting fucked up and staying out all night just to crash the next day.” You study him closely. “You were never around anymore. I never saw you. We were on two different paths and the only time we ever talked was when you asked if I wanted to fuck.”

“So, that’s it, huh? I’m just a villain in your story. You were this perfect fucking princess, and I was a monster that ruined your life?”

“No, obviously not. I wasn’t perfect. I know that.”

“Do you?” His eyes flick between yours. “You didn’t want me to move forward with you. You liked your new job and your new friends because they didn’t remind you of me. Of who we both used to be.”

“So? I’m not proud of what I used to do. And sure, maybe I wanted to make a better impression on the people paying my salary and keeping me employed. Is that such a fucking crime?”

“No. But you didn’t want me to be a part of that impression and you know it.”

“Right. Because you were shit-faced all the time.”

He opens his mouth, ready to retort. But then he closes it. He closes it and he stares at you and then…he surges forward.

Even if you were given at least two seconds to prepare, you’re not prepared for the way his hands feel on your cheeks as he kisses you. As he presses his lips to yours and steals the labored breaths in your lungs.

But you don’t fight him. You know you should. Know you should push him off and berate him. Yet you let him kiss you. And you kiss him back. And it’s far too easy to slip back into this routine as his tongue slides against yours in such a teasing way.

Your stomach flips while your hands land on his lap. You’re desperate to be closer, to feel his body against yours. His skin, and the way it melts beneath your palms like butter. You dance this devious dance and before you know it, you’re stripping each other of the few clothes you have.

He starts with your shirt. Ripping it over your head before his mouth lands on your chest. Bare and beautiful to him. His kisses are wet and sloppy and you arch yourself closer as you drag your fingers down his scalp.

The only reason he stops is to let you peel his t-shirt off, too. And then his jeans and socks. And you move so fluidly, you’re nearly naked in under a minute. The only thing left between you now his underwear and yours.

He lays you down, gentle. Surprisingly gentle, given the anger that brought you here. And he gazes at you in a soft, unspoken way that says everything you don’t exactly know how to say. 

His fingers brush down your cheek as his body settles atop yours. He still fits between your legs like he was always meant to and the weight of him almost feels good.

“Are you all right?” he finally whispers, and he doesn’t sound like the same man from before. He sounds like the man you fell in love with. “Is this okay?”

You nod quickly, scared that if you think about it, you’ll ruin it. “Yeah. Go.”

He doesn’t. “We don’t have to,” he says. “You were right, it’s probably a dumb idea—”

“Yeah, but…it always works.” You shift beneath him and reach for his briefs, rolling them down his hips. “And I’m tired. Tired of fighting with you, tired of not getting any sleep…tired of pretending I hate you. You were right, our sex is good. So let’s do it. And then we can sleep. And we can finally move on.”

Not the most romantic of speeches, but it works. At least right now. He kisses you again and drags your underwear aside in order to tease you with the tip of his cock.

He feels like you remember. And maybe you find just a touch of comfort in that. There are no awkward pauses or confusion about what to do next. You don’t have to find your rhythm or anticipate the next step. You know him. And he knows you.

Your rub your clit in order to stimulate yourself. You aren’t exactly wet enough for this to be enjoyable, but you don’t expect him to do what he did before. The foreplay is up to you now and you’re more than all right with that.

However, he’s not. And he instantly swats your hand away in order to do it himself. Allowing his fingers to drag up and down your pussy until you shiver before he slips the tip of his middle finger inside.

“Shit,” he whispers. His forehead drops to yours. “Fucking missed this.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He starts to pump, bending your body to his salacious intentions until the unmistakable sound of wetness echoes throughout the room. “I know you missed it, too.”

“Hm. Don’t push it.”

“Why not?” He presses a kiss to your cheek. Then to your jaw. Your lips. Your nose. Your neck. Everywhere you used to love. “Are you really gonna tell me you didn’t?” 

“Maybe.”

“So Crocs with Tube Socks is better, huh?”

“…not exactly.”

“Right.” He adds a second finger and your eyes roll back. “Don’t worry, Poppy, I’ll fix it.”

“Don’t…call me that,” you pant again, and he chuckles.

“Don’t know what else to call you. You were always my pretty Poppy.”

“But now I’m not,” you say. “Now you call me nothing. Because I’m not yours to call.”

He sighs but does seem to obey, at least for now. And the faster he thrusts his hand, the needier this growing feeling becomes. Stronger and louder until you finally grab onto his shoulders and say, “Just put it in already.”

He smirks. “How romantic.”

“It’s not supposed to be. Just come on.”

So, he does. He takes hold of his cock and he slips it through the gathering arousal until he can push in. And you both reel.

Truthfully, you’ve missed the sounds he makes when he’s turned on. The way he groans and grits his teeth together. The way the muscles in his arms strain until you can see those beautiful veins you used to love to run your tongue over. 

He’s stunning. Even now, in the soft light of the moon through your curtains. His silhouette is unholy as it hovers above you. Strong hips beginning to thrust as you both work in tandem to find release.

And it’s closer than you expected. There’s something about him that can get you there even without much effort. Something Crocs with Tube Socks could never seem to figure out. 

Because he’s not Harry. And only Harry can play you like an instrument and make such symphonic music all with the flick of his finger and a thrust of his cock.

He kisses you again and you both feel anxious. Soft murmurings of praise and, “Keep going,” that have you arching from the bed and moaning into his mouth.

You’re sweating and gasping for air and clutching onto his back as you attempt to meet his rhythm with rolls of your own. You need this. You need to cum so you can find release and you need to cum so you can finally sleep and you need to cum because then you’ll finally be able to let him go. To close the door on the chapter of you and Harry and move the fuck on.

But how can you move on when you’re still under him? How can you insist that you’re fine and doing great if you’re so easily convinced to fuck him just so you can both get some sleep?

There are other remedies to insomnia that don’t involve his cock and maybe you should have tried that before you let him into your apartment. 

Either way, you’re coming before you can think twice about it. Raking your nails down his back and whimpering his name as he pulls out and finishes on your thigh. 

And just like that…

It’s over.

You find him in the kitchen about an hour later. You managed to sleep at least a few minutes before you felt the sadistic hand of insomnia pull you back out. But when you woke, Harry was gone. His clothes were still on the floor, so you knew he hadn’t left. But he wasn’t with you.

He’s staring out your kitchen window when you slip into the living room. You’re not sure if he hears you or not but if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he keeps himself braced against the sink, clad in nothing more than his briefs.

Curious, you call, “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. Silent. Contemplative. “I used to love this window,” he eventually says. Soft, like he’s reminiscing. “The way the light looked in the morning. The way your little crystals would put rainbows on the wall and you’d get so excited. How you’d make me dance with you to some Elton John song while we were literally in the middle of cooking.”

You blink. “Um…okay.”

He turns and his eyes find yours. “I fucking loved this apartment. And this kitchen. And that couch. And your room. And even the hallway. I loved being here, all the time. I hated going back to my place because it never felt the same.”

The silence grows louder now as you look down at your feet and pull your robe just a bit tighter. “I know,” you finally whisper. “That’s why I changed it.”

“I know,” he whispers back. His expression falls. “You changed everything. This apartment, your life…us.”

“Because I had to,” you argue, glancing back up. “I had to, Harry. I couldn’t keep going in circles. I couldn’t drag you along behind me into the future when you clearly wanted to be anywhere else.” 

“Because the future you always painted didn’t seem to have room for me,” he huffs. “Okay, with all these dinner parties and fancy houses and good school districts. You’d planned out the next 30 years and I didn’t see myself anywhere in your picture.”

“I didn’t fucking care about the parties or the school districts,” you nearly yell. “God, I—I didn’t want the white picket fence life. I didn’t want the 1950’s American Dream shit you keep thinking I did. I just wanted you. Yes, I wanted a good job with insurance and stability. But I wasn’t gonna trade what we had just for that—”

“But you did. You didn’t tell your parents we’d moved in together. You didn’t even tell half of our friends. You went on trips without me and you stopped telling me about your day and we never talked—”

“Because you were never around! You were either out with your friends getting drunk or high or you were in there playing video games because you’d had a ‘hard day.’ So, no. I didn’t want to talk to you when I knew you weren’t even listening in the first place.”

 He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. Angry. Indignant. “You resented me. You resented the fact that we were together and you resented that I wasn’t perfect like your precious new friends—”

“Oh, that’s—” You pinch the bridge of your nose and force in a deep breath. “No. I didn’t want you to be like them. I didn’t want you to act pretentious and stuffy and talk about the stock market every goddamn second of the day. The only thing I resented…was the fact that you wouldn’t take care of yourself.”

“I was taking care of myself—”

“Bullshit. You were doing drugs—you were doing cocaine—and you weren’t eating, you weren’t sleeping, you nearly drunk yourself to death—”

“Right, but I wasn’t doing it all the time. It was just…it was occasionally, and it wasn’t a lot—”

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t have been doing it at all, Harry,” you finally shout. “You…you scared the shit out of me. Every time one of your friends would call and say you were passed out, I thought…I thought this was it. I thought I was gonna lose you. Do you know how many times I just sat on the floor and cried because I was so scared? Because you never wanted to listen when I told you to stop? Because you were so sure you were invincible?”

He seems pained by this, features wilting as he takes a tentative step forward. But he stops when you move back. “Poppy, I wasn’t trying to scare you, I…I didn’t know—”

“Yes, you did,” you scoff. “I told you, over and over that I didn’t want to lose you, but you thought I was being dramatic.”

He nods once. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah. I am.” He looks at you. “S’why I stopped after we broke up. You were right, I needed to get my shit together.”

You nod, too. “Good. I’m glad.”

His gaze dances around the kitchen. “I hate that you changed everything,” he says again, and your heart wrenches. “I hate that it doesn’t look like it used to. I hate that I hurt you so bad that you felt like you had to erase everything I ever touched.”

You step closer and wipe a tear from your cheek. “Yeah, I hate it, too. I hate that I had to. I hate that stupid mattress and I hate that my kitchen doesn’t look like a rainbow anymore and I really fucking hate that I have no one to dance with when I cook.”

His eyes soften as they find yours and in only a few seconds, he’s reaching for the belt on your robe and tugging you to him. Wrapping you in his arms as he presses you against his chest, the way he always used to when you were sad.

“No,” you argue weakly, although you do nothing to stop him. “No, you can’t…you can’t—”

“Yes, I can,” he retorts quietly. You feel his lips press to the top of your head. “You don’t get to cry over me anymore. You’re better than that now. You did what I couldn’t. You moved on. And I don’t get to ruin that for you.”

You sniffle as you run your hand down his stomach. “It wasn’t about moving on. I just needed to learn how to be strong enough for both of us.”

“Poppy,” he breathes and holds you tighter. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

And deep down…you know he’s right.

“Shit, just like that…a little closer. Good girl, hold yourself open for me, baby. Yeah.”

Doing your best to oblige, you slip your fingers between your folds as Harry nudges his nose closer. Kissing his way along your thighs before allowing his tongue to lick a very generous stripe up your pussy.

Round 2 is on the couch. Harry wanted the kitchen counter—nearly insisted on it, in fact—but you knew you didn’t want to ruin your favorite breakfast spot. And you weren’t about to just for him.

So, the couch it was. He complained about it as you got settled. He hates this new couch, too. The color, the lumpy cushions, the way it feels like you’re sinking when you sit. 

You told him you didn’t care. You loved it and if it annoyed him, that was a bonus.

Thankfully, he swallowed his complaints in favor of swallowing you. He tossed your robe open and pulled your thighs apart. And then he buried himself between the warmth of your pussy the way he always used to.

And you decided that maybe you don’t mind insomnia so much if this is the remedy.

“Missed this, too,” he says now as he nips at your clit. “God, you’ve always tasted so fucking good. S’fucking crazy, baby. Can’t ever get enough.”

“Sure,” you snort, head dropping back. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls—”

“No.” He shakes his head and his nose nudges the sensitive nerves as you whine. “No, there’s no other girls. Come on, did you really think there could be?”

“With a mouth like that? Yeah,” you admit. He laughs. “That’s how we met. You were such—fuck—such a player.”

“Maybe,” he concedes before mouthing at you again. “But nobody else has ever made me feel the way you do.”

You snort. “Where’d you learn that line?”

“It’s not a line. It’s the truth.”

“Harry. Come on. I know you.”

“Then you should know I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” He smooths his palms down your thighs in order to spread you just a bit further and see the way your hole flutters. “Oh, pretty girl. S’just drenched, hm? All sensitive from the last one…need Daddy to make it better?”

You scrunch your nose. “You don’t get to call yourself that anymore.”

“No?” He grins. “Why not?”

“Because I hate you and Daddy is reserved for someone I like.”

He tsks. “I don’t know, kind of seems like you still like it. Keep clenching around my tongue like you wanna hear me say it again.”

You hesitate as you weave your fingers through his curls. “Never.”

He hums and the vibration against your cunt makes your thighs twitch. “Come on, baby. Don’t be mean to Daddy.”

You want to glare. Slap at him, refuse him. But he’s right—you have missed the moniker. If only just because of how good he sounds when he says it. So, you let him tease you and taunt you as he tastes you. You let him do whatever the hell he wants because your second orgasm feels stronger than the first and you don’t imagine you’ll survive this one. 

He slips a finger in as well. Beckons your pleasure closer with every curl of the large digit. It’s practiced. He sucks and licks and nips and thrusts and curls and pumps all at the same time.

Then, he pulls back and brings his palm down in a sharp smack to your pussy. 

“Stop squirming,” he instructs, then shoots you an obviously pleased frown. “Don’t be a brat.”

“M’not,” you whimper. “Not a brat…just wanna cum.”

“Do you, hm?” He licks you again then adds two fingers. “Should I let you?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously?” He’s smirking now as he starts to go faster. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you do deserve it. Yeah? After being so nice as to let me in.”

You pout. “Mhm.”

He’s so happy. He’s always his happiest when he’s suffocating himself with your pussy. He does everything he knows you love. He leaves teasing kisses to the inside of your thighs. He slaps at your leg, your clit, your hip. He helps rock you against his tongue and even lifts you from the couch to find a deeper angle. 

And he does all of this out of sheer enjoyment. 

“Harry,” you whimper as you melt into the cushions. Your limbs feel like jello. The pleasure is everywhere, and he looks like a god. His face is covered in you, glistening about as bright as the stars.

“I know, Poppy,” he says. He kisses your pussy and then smiles at you. “I know.”

You like the way Harry’s chest feels. Warm and soft and painted in the tattoos you used to trace with your finger.

He’s gently scratching your back as you both lay in bed. The room is quiet—you haven’t spoken in minutes. Still, neither of you can seem to find sleep and you know you’ll desperately need it soon. 

But this is nice. Even if it is the last time. You like getting to reminisce—pretend for even a moment that things are the way they used to be. When you were happy and safe and content to be together.

You weren’t sure you’d ever feel this kind of peace again.

“I missed you, too, you know,” he whispers after a moment.

You glance up. 

“I didn’t just miss your apartment. I missed you.” He takes a breath and runs his palm along your spine. “I miss our Sunday mornings and I miss when we’d watch scary movies just so we could make out and I miss the way you used to dance around in your underwear to some stupid musical you were obsessed with.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “Har…”

“And I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I felt like…I felt like I was watching you do all these amazing things and I just couldn’t keep up. You were getting promoted and moving up and I was still at the fucking bar serving drinks. And you knew what you wanted to do. I didn’t.”

“I didn’t know,” you argue gently. “Not really. I hate my job. I hate that I don’t enjoy it the way I used to. I mean, I like that it pays the bills, but maybe that shouldn’t be enough.”

He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “You should do what makes you happy.”

“You used to make me happy.”

The soft strokes against your spine slow. 

“You did, Har,” you tell him. “So happy. That’s why I hated that we started fighting all of the time. I hated that you were gone or that I was gone or the fact that I was too ashamed to tell you that I missed you. And that I was scared we were losing each other.”

“Maybe we needed to lose each other,” he says and you feel sick. “Maybe we needed to be apart to see what we really wanted.”

You think about this. The idea sounds nice. Inviting. A happy end to a rather dreadful story.

But you both know better. Five months has taught you better.

“There’s a reason we broke up,” you finally murmur. “We didn’t…we didn’t like each other anymore. We were holding each other back—”

“I liked you,” he says softly. “I loved you. Yeah, I was mad, but I didn’t just stop loving you.” 

“Maybe you should have. Maybe it would have been easier for us and we wouldn’t be…here.”

More silence. It stretches for what feels like hours.

And then, “I can’t sleep because of you.”

You suck in a quiet breath. “What?”

“When Josie told me that you were seeing someone, I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And she showed me a picture she took of you guys and you were so happy. Smiling at him like you used to smile at me and I just…I didn’t know what to do.”

Another pause. You don’t know what to say.

“I put my fist through a wall,” he tells you. “And somehow, that still didn’t hurt as much as knowing you’d moved on.”

You snake your arm around his middle and snuggle closer. “Harry, you knew we both had to move on eventually.”

“Did we?”

“Harry…”

“But so soon? It’s only been five months.”

“Yeah. Five months to grieve you and cry over you and realize I did this for you.” You close your eyes. Tight. “We’re better people now.”

“No, we’re tired people now,” he teases, and you smile. “And I think I’ll be losing sleep over you for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it. I’m always gonna think about you. Think about what I did wrong. What I could have done better.”

“I fucked up, too,” you argue. “I should have told my parents. And our friends. I should have talked to you more, asked you to do more things together. You’re right, I was ashamed of you. Of this…routine we’d fallen into. And I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. After all, there’s nothing more to say.

But he kisses the crown of your head and it speaks louder than any words.

“Fuck…fuck, Poppy, please—”

You grin as you lick your lips. He’s always sounded the most beautiful when he’s begging. And his best begging always tends to happen when his cock is down your throat. 

“What, Daddy?” you ask innocently. “What do you need me to do?”

His eyes roll back and he grips the sheets in his fist. “Please…”

You reposition yourself over his legs as you dip back down to have another taste. You lick and you suck and you stroke until he’s making another strained noise that sounds like sex.

You hope your neighbors can hear. You bet they missed him.

“Good boy,” you purr, squeezing his thighs as you take him even further. 

He sucks in a sharp breath through gritted teeth before his hand finds your hair and he squeezes. “Easy…easy, baby. S’been a while. Don’t hurt yourself—”

You respond to his instruction by inhaling through your nose and relaxing the muscles in your throat. Allowing him to hit the back the way he always used to.

His head drops into the pillows. “Shit—Poppy, I mean it. M’not gonna fuck your throat. It’s gonna hurt and I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

It’s an oddly thoughtful gesture but it does nothing for you now. Instead, you shake your head and pull off, a string of saliva dripping down his cock in your wake. “I’m fine, H. Trust me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He pushes up onto his elbows. “Is Crocs with Tube Socks hung or something?”

You grin. “No. But that dildo you got me last year is.”

He blinks. “You…fucking hell, you fuck your throat with that?”

“Mhm.” You swirl your tongue around his tip as he curses. “And then I fuck myself. And I pretend it’s you.”

He tightens his hold on your hair and forces your eyes back to his. “Are you serious?”

You nod, now feeling a touch shy as you wipe your mouth with your knuckles. “Yeah…I know that’s…probably weird, but…I mean, you got it for me, so I thought I’d be weirder to think about someone else—”

“No, it’s…” He stops. Struggles. “Shit, I really needed to hear that.”

“Oh, you did, huh?” 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want you to think about anyone else when you used it, either. It’s got my fucking initials on it.”

You laugh, louder than you mean to and it makes him grin. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? It was a pretty good gift, I’ll admit.”

“S’a fucking perfect gift,” he retorts. “We had a lot of fun with that dildo.”

“We did indeed.”

“But apparently not as much fun as you’re having with it.”

“Fucking myself helps me sleep,” you remind him. “So sometimes it’s necessity.”

“Is that right?” 

“Mhm.” You squeeze the base and he twitches. “You used to watch me. Remember?”

“I do.” His eyes get darker. “Do you fuck yourself a lot?”

“…these days, yeah. Apparently, I can’t sleep all that well, either.”

“And does it work?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” You turn your attention back to his cock in order to avoid his curiosity before you quietly admit, “Sometimes I pretend you’re here. Sleeping next to me. And…that helps, too.”

He reaches for your wrist and pulls your attention back. “Poppy—”

“No, don’t look at me like that, it’s dumb—”

“I imagine you, too.”

You blink. “You do?”

“Every night. Except the past couple weeks. Cause now I just think about you and him. And then I can’t fucking sleep.”

You turn your hand so your fingers brush through his. “Shit. We’re a mess.”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

The conversation falls away as you dip back down to resume your work. Squeezing his balls, moaning as you take him on your tongue, and milking him for every last drop. 

Turns out, you missed the taste of him, too.

Morning comes before either of you find a moment of rest. But you can feel yourself growing tired. Your eyelids are beginning to droop, and your body feels incredibly spent. 

Turns out, round 4 is where the magic happened. He brought out your favorite vibrator and teased your poor, swollen clit with it until you squirted. It was easy and quick and he seemed rather delighted to be bathed in you.

Until, of course, you insist on an actual bath to clean you both.

The shower felt good. The warm water washing away the sticky sweat on your skin. And the two of you fell back into a similar routine. He ran the soap down your arms and you washed his curls with your favorite shampoo. A shampoo he claimed he looked everywhere for after you broke up but could never find.

He said he missed the smell. The way it made his hair so soft. And the way it would make his pillowcase smell just like you.

You were grateful that the shower hid your tears.

You both crashed on the couch after you had dried off. The sheets still needed to be cleaned and neither of you could be bothered. But, as it turned out, the couch was growing on him. And he begrudgingly admitted it was rather comfy as the two of you curled up in your usual spot. 

You know you’re both close to sleep. Finally, after all your efforts to get here. But you also know that once you wake up, Harry will leave. 

And there’s a chance you won’t see him again.

You know that nothing has changed. The two of you still want different things, even if you want each other. And you hate that that’s not enough. That what you want and what you should want don’t align.

Instead, he’ll move on with his life and you’ll move on with yours.

But you don’t want to learn how to fall asleep without him.

“Make me a deal,” you whisper.

He hums. Lashes shut tight as the morning light slips in through the window. “What?”

“If I wake up, and you’re still here…we do this again. Not…as a couple. But as two broken humans that find rest with each other.”

His eyes open.

“But if you’re gone,” you continue, “then we don’t. We don’t do it again, we don’t see each other again, we don’t reach out again. We cut ties. Officially. Block and move on. For real.”

He seems saddened by this, and you hate that you’ve made him sad. But you both know it’s for the best. This won’t be sustainable in the long run. And maybe it’s a bad idea to continue at all, but maybe you want to hold on to him anyway. At least for a little while.

Even if it’s just as friends.

Exes.

Two broken humans that used to make each other whole.

His lips press together and he nods once. “Deal,” he agrees, and you can tell by the look on his face, he’s already made a decision.

You aren’t sure which way, but you suppose you’ll find out soon enough. So, you allow your eyes to fall shut and your dreams to take hold. Melting into his arms and into the sofa as you finally find sleep quicker than you have in months.

You’re not sure how long you’re out. It feels like hours. A heavy slumber that leaves you rather refreshed as your eyes eventually flutter open. 

You don’t see Harry as you slowly adjust to your surroundings. And you don’t feel him, either. But you’re too afraid to really look. To sit up and realize that he’s gone. For good.

And then, just when you think you’ve lost him…you hear the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Good morning, Poppy.”

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[luveline]

God bombshell x reid kills me I want them to just be together so bad but the slow burn is so good

Would you happen to have anything in mind for a situation where spencer starts to see that her feelings are genuine and he can envision actually being with her?

thanks for requesting my love! ♡ fem reader

Your arrival is marked by a bunch of different things. The smell of your perfume, the clack of your shoes. The clinking sound of your two tennis bracelets as you lift your hand, and the scratch of your fingernails in his hair. He shivers at the soft touch, worse as you lean down to talk in his ear. “Morning,” you say cheerily. 

It's a quick ordeal. A swift scratch and you pull away. 

You've done affectionate things like that before. Hugged him when you thought he needed it, kissed his cheek to say thanks. When he was in the hospital after Tobias, you held his hand the entire time. He's always thought you felt sorry for him —you've made it clear that you think the team could be better to him. If it weren't for you, he probably wouldn't believe it himself. 

But something about your scratching rings a bell in his head. 

It's just so… girlfriend-y. 

He lifts his head from his desk to watch you walk to your own. Hotch won't abide you sitting together anymore on account of you letting him chat as much as he likes without chiding, but you're not far enough to escape his attention, either. Spencer's gaze follows your arms as you shrug from your jacket, and your neck as you lean back and let out a sigh. 

He gets up. 

“Did you sleep okay?” he asks worriedly. 

“Slept just fine, honey,” you say, brushing down your blouse. “How about you? Headaches any better?” 

“They're fine.”

You touch your cheek gently. “... What are you looking at me for?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly. When a rare insecurity flashes in your eyes, he adds, “You look really pretty today, that's all.” 

“Oh.” Your lips perk into a big smile, charmed and charming. “Thank you, Spencer. You look handsome, too. Your hair’s growing.” You bring a hand to his face, not hesitant, but waiting permission, and when he lifts his chin a touch you rake your hand through the hair at the side of his head to tuck behind his ears. “What are you thinking? You'll grow it out again, or cut it short?” 

He's probably gonna do whatever he thinks you'll like, and he's smart enough to guess. “Grow it out?” 

Your delight is not subtle. “It's so soft. I love it. I love your curls.” You glance past him to the landing. “Hotch is looking at us. I'm gonna pretend I didn't see him.” 

“L/N.” 

“Or hear him.” 

“Reid,” Hotch tries. 

Spencer turns on the spot, baffled. You're told off often for flirting with him, but everyone jokes that Spencer is the unwitting party. Hotch gives him a reproachful look that seems to say, stop.

And the second bell rings. Not only does your affection go beyond the boundaries of a friendship, and act outside of playful teasing, Hotch sees it as a mutual partnership. As an equal back and forth. 

Well fine. If this is real, and he's apparently going to get in trouble for things now, he has to just– just do it, right? “Did you hear that?” he asks, laying the mock confusion on thick. 

Your laughter is immediate, loud and sudden and beautiful. You grab his arm and hide your head as though that might obscure the sound of your giggling, your perfume like a wave that hits him smack in the chest. He grins down at you, hand flying automatically to your shoulder.

A boyfriend-y touch, he'd say. 

Spencer could be your boyfriend. He could. You press your forehead to his chest to ride out your laughing and he can see the two of you together, not just a silly daydream but the real thing. 

“Don't be mad,” you're saying as you lift your head, your hand spreading over his arm, familiar in its gentleness. “Hotch, come on! I didn't see him at all this weekend, and he looks so nice today. You know he looks nice today, give me a break.” 

Your voice is shaped by your fondness for him, for Hotch, too, and stretched like a sheet of silk. Spencer doesn't think he could want you more. 

“I'm furious,” Hotch says plainly. “I want to see you both in my office. Preferably now.” 

You wait for him to go back into his office before giving Spencer a small, sorry smile. “My bad, handsome. That one's on me. Take you out to lunch to make up for it?” 

“How about I take you out to lunch?” he asks. 

“But you didn't do anything.” 

“Is that true?” he asks, giving you a nudge. “Come on. He's gonna yell at us about last Thursday's paperwork, you know, the Kentucky stuff.” 

Your eyes widen and your lips part, but you recover, sewing your arm through his as you lament, “Noooo, I forgot about that. He's gonna fry us alive.” 

You don't sound particularly upset. 

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