#i feel like it’s been too long since i’ve changed it

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

Charlie's corruption arc ✨😈

aka Broken Crown AU inspired by this post because I’ve been thinking about it intensively. So, I believe Charlie's villain arc would start with a great feeling of relief. Imagine: it's been a week since the final battle; it's been a week when Charlie hasn't been able to sleep at night. Others think she's still grieving, but the truth is different. Every night, Charlie cannot fall asleep because she's trying to cope with the relief she felt the second Adam died. She was the one who at first stopped Lucifer from finishing him, just because killing Adam didn't seem right. But when Niffty actually did it, despite everything, it felt right. It felt good.

After weeks (months?) of looking for a way to stop Adam from committing genocide against her people, after being bullied and humiliated by him, after witnessing how an unjust system enabled his despicable actions while ruthlessly punishing others for far lesser crimes, she finally, for the first time, felt like she had any agency. Just like that, her loved ones were finally safe. They could all breathe again, and all it took was a small act of violence against the person who fully deserved it. This realization changes her. While she doesn't intend to do such things in the future, she can no longer deny that exercising brutal power can be the best solution when dealing with certain kinds of people. This is the very first thing she hides from Vaggie. Not because she's scared of her judgment but because these ideas are so against her own moral values it is simply scary to put them into words.

Maybe I would be capable of killing someone in cold blood. Maybe I'll have to do it one day.

But Adam's dead, so they are safe, right? And she won't ever have to make a choice like that again. That's some reassurance.

And then, Niffty is killed by Lute. Just like that—Lute teleports to Hell by night and slaughters her in revenge because why wouldn't she? Who would have stopped her?

It obviously hits everyone hard—they just lost another friend. But Alastor? Alastor loses his fucking mind. He goes completely feral, yelling at Charlie and blaming her for everything.

What kind of incompetent fool shows their enemy mercy and lets them live long enough to get vengeance? I cannot believe I thought you could be a competent leader. You are just a fucking child. You are all a bunch of idiots.

Charlie goes through a complete meltdown because she knows he's right. If she had the guts to finish Lute or at least asked Vaggie or Lucifer to do so, Niffty would be alive. She's crying, choking on tears; she feels like a hopeless failure, but Alastor does not give her a break. He seems so infuriated she thinks he would kill her. Fortunately, Lucifer and Vaggie intervene. Lucifer puts Alastor back in his place by essentially beating the shit out of him. Vaggie takes Charlie out to calm her down. She insists that if it's anyone's fault, it's hers because she was the one who spared Lute, but Charlie knows that it's a lie. Vaggie would have killed Lute if not for Charlie's convictions. She fails, and she fails all over again, and it seems like she can't escape the evil. It's her responsibility to face it on equal terms. Otherwise, she won't be able to protect her loved ones.

After this incident, both Lucifer and Vaggie insist on kicking Alastor out of the hotel. He's too dangerous, too unpredictable. We can't allow him to treat you like this. We don't even need him anymore; there's nothing an Overlord can do that the King of Hell can't.

But that's not the truth. There's something Alastor can do that Lucifer can't: play the game. And now, grieving another of her friends, Charlie realizes she needs a teacher if she wants to stop pieces.

I have like 0 time to write the proper fic but I had to get these out of my system because holy shit I love coming up with elaborate plots I'm not able to execute. Maybe talking about it will somehow scratch the itch.

Also tagging @purrpleowl because she expresses her interest in this idea.

[lavampira]

book recommendations

tysm @winedark and @rosenfey for the tag <:

passing it along to @hythlodaes @scionshtola @coldshrugs @likeabirdinflight @lesbianalicent @veeples @narrativefoiltrope @kirnet @disequilibria @jennystahl @elvves @queenofthieves @weird-ecologies @erielake @verbose-vespertine @solarisrenbeth @onceinabluemoony @queerbrujas @oldblood but ofc no pressure!!

1. the last book I read:

GOTH WESTERN by LIVALI WYLE — well. technically, it’s an indie graphic novel. but it’s a western meets magical realism about necromancy, revenge, and the power of love. and lesbians. I burned through it in a couple hours sitting because I was so gripped by it tbh.

2. a book I recommend:

THE HACIENDA by ISABEL CAÑAS — an absolute all time fave book in my heart; I would say one doesn’t even need to necessarily love horror to get invested in this one, since it also involves very interesting critique of spanish colonialism, religion, and class struggles in post-independence mexico only using hauntings as the lens to view it.

3. a book that I couldn’t put down:

THE PRIORY OF THE ORANGE TREE by SAMANTHA SHANNON — I was glued to this book for a solid two weeks despite its length. I have a lot that I would change about the pacing and certain events or qualities of some characters’ outcomes, but it was such a fun fantasy read, and I had a difficult time even moving on from the setting and protagonists once I was done.

4. a book I’ve read twice (or more):

THE SONG OF ACHILLES by MADELINE MILLER — my first time reading this myth retelling was my freshman year of college, so I reread it again ten years later to see if it would still hold up for how much I loved it, and it absolutely did. the perspective of the man standing beside and in love with the hero interwoven with the tragedy of achilles and patroclus takes me right out and the passages that tumblr enjoys to quote from it have so much more impact in the full context of the narrative.

5. a book on my TBR:

OUR WIVES UNDER THE SEA by JULIA ARMFIELD — this poor book keeps getting knocked down on my TBR but I’m determined to read it this year. I’m intrigued by the horror of the protagonist’s wife ‘coming back wrong’ in a sense, and the recommendations based on its similarity to ANNIHILATION, but also the fact it seems to be a wlw scifi horror, too.

6. a book I’ve put down:

AFFINITY by SARAH WATERS — I wanted to like this one so bad, considering how often waters has been hyped up to me as The Author for historical lesbian novels and the fact it delves into victorian spiritualism, but the pacing felt so slow at getting to the point in the plot, and when it finally did, the twist put me off on finishing the end. it’s probably more of a case of ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ but I def had to DNF it.

7. a book on my wishlist:

GHOST STATION by S.A. BARNES — space horror quickly became a fave niche genre that I got into last year, so I’ve been very excited for this release, too. I’m also a fan of how barnes writes atmospheric dread and I have high expectations for it.

8. a favorite book from my childhood:

WUTHERING HEIGHTS by EMILY BRONTË — it altered my brain chemistry as a teenager in high school and I haven’t been the same since I read it. I distinctly remember listening to ‘you said I killed you — haunt me then!’ read aloud and having to pretend like it didn’t make me feel so completely unhinged in the middle of class.

9. a book you would give to a friend:

PIRANESI by SUSANNA CLARKE — I was recommended this one by a friend to begin with, so it feels like an even more perfect book to pass forward. I think it’s one of those books that’s easy to get absorbed into even if it’s not a typical genre one would read, and it’s such a life-altering experience to go through with the protagonist, too. the underlying message that we’re all changed by our own trials and we’re never the same as we were before lingers with me.

10. a book of poetry or lyrics you own:

CRUSH by RICHARD SIKEN — it’s taken me so long to finally track down a physical copy at my bookstore but it was worth it because it remains my fave book of poetry to date. I could quote so many lines, after how hard they’ve hit me, and some of them have influenced my own writing or pairings in some ways.

11. a nonfiction book you own:

HAVANA NOCTURNE by T.J. ENGLISH — back in 2015-2016ish I went through a true crime phase in the prohibition era through the foundation of the US mafia, and this is a very informative book on how the mob became tied to cuba and how the revolution affected it.

12. what are you currently reading:

AN EDUCATION IN MALICE by S.T. GIBSON — I stumbled across this retelling of carmilla set in a late 60s massachusetts women’s college after reading gibson’s A DOWRY OF BLOOD and had to give it a try. I’m enjoying it so far; the prose is full of thick emotional yearning and electric chemistry, and the balance in the narrative of toxic mentorship, historical romantic and sensual attraction between women without shaming them for it, and vampiric elements is really fun.

13. what are you planning on reading next:

WHAT FEASTS AT NIGHT by T. KINGFISHER — I only found out the other day that the sequel to WHAT MOVES THE DEAD was even released but I’m so desperate for the next part of alex easton’s story (and how eerily kingfisher writes horror) that it shot up to my next read.

[nightghoul381]

Ellis Twilight~ Main Route Chapter 5

Disclaimer for route warnings | Masterlist

Additional Content Warnings: None

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

The next morning- When I reported yesterday’s incident, Jude had received similar information.

Victor: “A ‘circus’?...”

Jude: “The circus group seems to have disbanded a long time ago.”

Kate: “Huh!?”

Ellis: “Disbanded…?”

Jude: “The Grace Circus Troupe”

Jude: “After a successful run in London, the maggots who flock to success cheated him outta his money, put him in debt and everything went up in flames.”

Jude: “The troupe disbanded quickly.”

(Well then…)

Kate: “We heard that Mr. Bill’s missing friend had been ‘recruited’”

Kate: “It’s impossible for someone to be recruited to a circus group that’s been disbanded. The recruitment has nothing to do with the kidnapping, right?”

Ellis: “Or someone is lying and pretending to be recruiting for a circus group to lure in victims.”

Victor: “I wonder if the Grace Circus Troupe still exists behind the scenes, even if it’s outwardly disbanded.”

Victor: “Or maybe it’s the work of someone pretending to be the Grace Circus Troupe…”

Victor: “…It seems that additional investigation is needed, including in that area.”

Victor: “Jude, Ellis, Kate, thank you for the information.”

Victor: “The fair ended yesterday so please take a break for now.”

I take a deep breath as I stare at Victor’s back as he leaves, his long hair fluttering behind him.

(As Fairytale Keeper, perhaps all I’m required to do is write down the crimes of the Crown members…)

(But I wish I could help stop this incident before there are more victims.)

(--That’s right, the report!)

As a storyteller, I try to think back on whether I had witnessed a crime that I could write about.

(Hmm… Ellis and Jude didn’t commit any crimes, did they?)

(Come to think of it, I wonder if Ellis would ever commit a crime that I could write about in the report…)

(…Maybe it would be easier to write down Jude’s sins, since he’s so hated that his life is threatened.)

Jude: “What, don’t act like yer thinkin’ somethin’ rude.”

Kate: “What!? N-no I wasn’t!”

Jude: “So ya really had the courage to go on stage ‘n put yer body on the line?”

Part 2

Jude: “So ya really got the courage to go on stage ‘n put yer body on the line, do ya?”

Kate: “Why did you say that?”

Ellis: “Did you see it?”

Jude: “Yer at a fair, ya can’t help but see a big stage like that.”

Jude: “I thought she’d have refused the escort if she was a troublesome woman who was scared to death at every turn.”

Jude narrows his eyes as if he’s inspecting me again.

Jude: “Ya got guts, if ya want, you can come along.”

Kate: “Y…yes.”

(Does that mean you approve of me a little?)

Jude: “Ellis, yer the one who got her involved in the first place. Yer in charge.”

Ellis: “Yeah, I know. Good for you, Kate.”

(This was good…I guess.)

And so—I ended up spending my days following Jude and Ellis’ work.

We were attacked by business rivals and thugs once every three days,

A few days passed as I wrote in my notebook about the two people who would get revenge for even more outrageous behavior.

Then, when the “fairytale keeper’ work for the day was finished…

Ellis: “Kate, I’ve found a nice restaurant, would you like to stop off and go home?”

Ellis always called out to me.

Today it was a restaurant and yesterday I was invited to a place where I could see a beautiful sunset to eat crepes.

Kate: “Ellis, you’ve been taking me too many delicious restaurants lately…”

Ellis: “Too many…?”

Kate: “It feels like my body is getting a little bit…heavy.”

Ellis: “I don’t think it’s changed at all…but then, should we stop?”

--Choices--

Maybe not today

**2. …we can go. +4 +4 **

3. Let me think about it for a minute. (I had selected this option and forgot to get screenshots for the correct answer >n<)

Kate: “Let me think about it for a minute.

Ellis: “Sure.”

Ellis stands there, staring at me intently, like a faithful dog waiting for his master’s commands.

Kate: “I suppose we can go.”

Ellis: “Good, I thought you would like the restaurant, Kate.”

Ellis: “I wanted to take you with me.”

And spending time with Ellis wasn’t just about eating delicious food together--.

Kate: “Huh? Ellis, this book is…”

There was a book on the chair I always sat on in the common room.

Ellis: “Oh, yeah… I thought that was the one you said you wanted to read, right?”

Part 3

Ellis: “Oh, yeah… I thought that was the one you said you wanted to read, right?”

Kate: “That’s right…! Thank you… How much did it cost?”

Ellis: “Don’t worry about it, it’s a gift.”

Ellis: “You bought me some cranberry jam the other day, so I wanted to return the favor.”

Kate: “That was as thanks for the restaurant before that.”

Ellis: “Then, as a thank you for this…let me know what you think when you finish reading it.”

(I gave him cranberry jam in return for the restaurant, and he gave me this book in return…)

(And as thanks you want me to tell you what I think of this book?)

Kate: “…That’s the way you’d like me to thank you?”

Ellis: “Yeah. I like listening to you.”

Kate: “You’re saying stuff like that again…”

(Ellis is too good at spoiling me…)

--However, the one strange thing is the question that Ellis sometimes asks me.

Ellis: “Hey, Kate… How happy are you right now?”

He wants to know what makes me happy and what satisfies me.

Ellis sometimes asks strange questions like that, as if he really wants to know.

Usually when he asks me this, it’s when I’m feeling happy.

He asked the questions as if he could see right through me, as if confirming that I was happy.

It’s like an exchange between lovers… and it always makes my heart skip.

Kate: “Hmmm… I guess as happy as when I’m taking a nap on my bed in the sun on my first vacation in a while.”

I feel like I’ve gotten better at expressing ‘happiness’, probably due to always being asked this question.

Ellis: “…”

As usual, he would smile immediately after blinking.

Ellis: “…I’d like to see that. Would you like to take a nap with me next time?”

Kate: “T-together?”

Ellis: “Yeah. Think about it.”

Ellis: “Well then, Kate, see you tomorrow.”

(together…)

The kindness that Ellis showers on me is so limitless that I feel almost conceited.

But…

(Ah, I feel like I’m going to be ruined from too much pampering…)

Perhaps driven by this sense of crisis, I’ve been waking up early lately.

(I’m supposed to be doing a job that my life depends on, but I’m enjoying it more than I used to.)

(It’s all thanks to Ellis for trying to make me happy, but…)

I took the plunge and asked Jude, who happened to be reading the newspaper by himself at the early morning breakfast table.

Kate: “Is there a reason that Ellis is so particular about happiness?”

Part 4

Kate: “Is there a reason that Ellis is so particular about happiness?”

Jude: “……What, ya gonna do somethin’ if ya know?”

Kate: “Eh? No, it’s just a question.”

Kate: “He’s so kind to me that I’m starting to worry…”

What I gradually came to understand after spending time with Ellis is—

He says he ‘prioritizes what the other person wants to do, not himself.’

(As Ellis had said before.)

(It’s as if Ellis has no feelings or desires of his own.)

Kate: “As much as I think Ellis is person who genuinely enjoys the happiness of others.”

Kate: “There are bound to be things that Ellis himself wants to do or doesn’t want to do.”

Kate: “I’m a little worried that I’m not holding back.”

Jude: “…Well, look at you.”

Jude snorted a laugh while looking down at the newspaper, seemingly uninterested.

Jude: “So, ya think there’s a hidden side to his kindness, and ya can’t trust him?”

(Uh…)

Kate: “I didn’t say that.”

For a moment I was at a loss for words because I realized what Jude was saying.

Jude: “Same thing.”

Jude: “’I don’t know if I should be happy to be pampered because I can’t read his true feelings.’ Isn’t that what yer sayin’?”

(…now that you say that, it might be true.)

(I’m suspicious of Ellis…?)

He’s the type of person who would do anything to cheer me up.

Maybe I’m afraid of becoming complacent with that kindness and missing out on the feelings behind it.

Jude: “There’s no such thing as genuine kindness so leave that assumption aside.”

Jude: “I’m sure his kindness isn’t just due to simple favoritism.”

Kate: “….?”

Jude: “Well if he doesn’t have a special obsession with ya, then it’ll be fine.”

Kate: “It sounds like there are circumstances that make it not okay if he does become particularly attached…”

Jude: “Ha, yer smarter than I thought.”

Jude raised an eyebrow and continued.

Jude: “But if ya knew that much, wouldn’t a smart young lady know what to do?”

Jude looks down at the newspaper as if he didn’t feel like explaining any further.

There’s no such thing as genuine kindness.

It’s okay as long as he doesn’t get too attached.

Even knowing that, I still only have a vague idea.

That’s why I don’t know anything specific about what will happen if I stay with Ellis from now on.

(…I wonder what this pain is.)

It’s like reaching out to touch a beautiful rose and a tiny thorn stings my fingertips—my heart aches.

Ellis: “Good morning, Jude, Kate.”

(Wah!)

Kate: “Ellis! Good morning.”

My heart skipped a beat and my hand instinctively reached for the silverware on the table.

Ellis: “…Did something happen?”

Part 5

Ellis: “…Did something happen?”

His gentle colored eyes look at me with concern.

Kate: “No, it’s nothing.”

Jude: “She was just squealin’ ‘bout bein’ hungry.”

Ellis: “…I see. Then let’s eat breakfast.”

Ellis smiles and takes his seat.

(What Jude was saying earlier is… I should keep my distance so he doesn’t get seriously attached to me.)

(But… I can’t just be aloof now after he’s shown me all this kindness.)

So as usual, I smiled and spoke with him.

Kate: “Ah, I spread a lot of butter on the toast before it got cold.”

Ellis: “Mine too? … You did.”

Kate: “Thank you, as always.”

Ellis: “Thank you, Kate.”

(When Ellis smiles happily, I feel happy too.)

I’m sure no one will leave Ellis alone.

Because he’s such a wonderful person.

(I’m sure there’s no way he’ll be particularly attached to me.)

(This is just how I repay the kindness I’ve received.)

(I should spend the rest of the month trying not to be too easy on Ellis.)

I shouldn’t misjudge the sense of distance—that’s what I vowed to do as soon as I came here.

(Every time I’m treated kindly, I feel like I’m forgetting that commandment.)

Since then, his kindness has seeped into the cracks of the commandments and the distance between our hearts has narrowed…

I’m sure I’ve reached a point where I can’t turn back.

(I can’t make any more mistakes…)

Maybe, surely—I can’t make a mistake.

After finishing breakfast and Kate left to get ready to go out, Ellis looked at Jude.

Ellis: “Hey, Jude.”

Jude: “If it’s bullshit I don’t wanna hear it.”

Jude makes a noise with the newspaper as if to interrupt the voice.

Ellis: “Do you think it’s possible to make Kate the happiest she’s been in her life, within the month?”

Jude: “Dunno.”

Ellis: “If she has a moment like that, I would want to make it last forever.”

Ellis: “Because she’s such a nice person.”

Jude glanced up and saw that Ellis had a very serious expression on his face.

Jude: “…Ha, yer as crazy as ever.”

Ellis: “I don’t think so.”

Ellis: “I… I just don’t like seeing people I care about become unhappy.”

Jude: “….”

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

That night, things took a turn in the kidnapping case—

William wandered in and saw Jude and Ellis discussing the next day’s meeting,

Then he smiled at me as I took notes on the proceedings.

William: “We’ve received new information from Alfons regarding the kidnapping incidents.”

Next Chapter

[lunajay33]

Taste for Older Men Part.2

•⚰️🍂🍑•

Summary: Growing up with you never had much interest in boys your age but when your dads best friends stuck around more everything changed

Pairing: Cowboy Negan x f!reader

Warnings: age gap, evil boyfriend

Part.1

•Masterlist•

It’s been a week since everything happened, my parents have been extremely over supportive always, when I’d come down for breakfast they’d have wide smiles and cheery voices but I couldn’t hate them for it they’re just trying to make me feel better even though I was already happier than I’ve ever been in my life

I still work everyday at Negans farm but my parents still don’t know that we’re together and we’re not quite sure how to tell them, I mean he’s my dads best friend and I don’t want to ruin that but I also can’t give up Negan he’s all I’ve ever wanted so there’s got to be a way

I was in the barn pitch forking up some loose hay when I feel Negans arms wrap around my waist

“You know if I was gonna get more help around here I’d have told you my feelings way earlier” I laugh as I lean back into his chest

“Watch yourself lil lady I’m still your boss remember”

“Oh I remember” he spins me in his arms resting my hands on his shoulders

“So how do we tell my parents I don’t want to sneak around I want to be able to be with you when we’re around other people”

“I know sunshine, old man invited me over tonight to watch football might tell him then, and you can talk to your mother” I feel nervous about this but it needs to be done

“Hopefully they don’t rip my head off”

“If they’re going that route it’ll be me they rip apart” me smiles as he leans down to kiss me his grey speckled beard scratching against my face but it was something I craved when he wasn’t around

“Come on let’s finish up our chores before you get carried away like last time” I laugh as he groans

I got home early as Negan let me off to get ready for tonight and go through everything I want to say to my mom, he wanted that time too he had more to worry about but my father is an understanding man I just home he can understand this too

I stripped off my dirty work clothes and hoped in the shower, relaxing as the dirt and sweat from the day washed away down the drain, after I was all squeaky clean I got dressed in a casual pair of black leggings and a red long sleeve shirt, putting two braids in my hair then waiting on my bed anxiously

After another hour I picked up my phone and dialed Negan, after two rings I hear his voice and everything seemed to not be as stressful

“Hey baby ya alright?”

“Yeah I’m better now, just nervous”

“Don’t stress honey I’m on my way over now, we’ll get this settled” he said with a calming tone

“Okay I’ll see you soon”

We hung up and I made my way downstairs sitting at the kitchen island waiting to hear the rumble of his truck, soon the headlights shine through the window and he’s knocking at the door

I want to rush to the door and through my arms around him but contain myself and let my dad answer, Negans technically his guest anyways

“Negan! You excited for the game buddy?” My dad asked cheerfully as he patted him on the shoulder

“You bet, I meet you in the lounge soon I’ll go say hi to your wife and y/n!”

“Always with the southern hospitality!”

Negan rounded the corner and came into the kitchen where me and my mother sat I couldn’t help the huge smile that stretched my cheeks

“Negan so wonderful to see you again, last time was a bit crazy” I looked down a little embarrassed by that whole fiasco

“Lovely to see you too, and of course my dear little farm hand” he said brushing his hand down my back out of my mothers gaze making my skin chill

“Oh Negan she’s still behaving well isn’t she?”

“Mother of course I am”

“Don’t worry she’s always a great help, got myself a lil working lady”

I look up at him with so much joy and admiration before my mother clear her throat and snaps us out of our moment

“Well here’s two beers, better get in there before he makes a big deal about us stealing you away again” she laughed handing over the beers and began left the room

I look back at my mother who had a knowing look on her face, raised eyebrow with a slight smirk

“What?”

“I’m not stupid sweetie, I’ve seen the way you looked at him since he started coming around, only recently he’s been giving you the same look soooooo you have something to tell me dear”

“Don’t be mad, what I feel for him is real, how he treats me really show how badly Mike treated me and how much Negan treats me like a goddess, he’s a good man”

“I’m not mad, I’m glad you found a man who can treat you the way you deserve, hopefully your father will look at it the same way”

I down now we wait to either hear a fight or Negan comes out smiling

“WHAT?” I hear from the lounge, oh no

I rush into the lounge seeing my dad up in Negans face and he looked more betrayed than angry

“Dad, calm down it’s okay”

“How is this okay my best friend with my daughter”

“I love her f/n” he went silent and so did I this was the first time Negans declared his love

“You love me?” I ask as I step closer

“Of course I do, you’re a wonderful woman every moment with you I feel more happier and at ease than I’ve ever been”

“I love you too sunshine” I lean up to wrap my arms around his neck and he held me tight

“F/n, you know Negan and he’ll treat her right compared to that excuse for a boyfriend she had before” my mom said then hearing my dad sigh

“I know it’s just a lot to wrap my head around, when did this happen?”

“The day we had the barbecue, he came and made me feel better about everything that happened and well our feelings just came out”

“I mean me and your mother knew how you felt about Negan it was pretty obvious, I guess I can eventually get use to this”

“My god was it that obvious?” I ask looking up at Negan and he had a sly smirk

“You didn’t make it sneaky when you’d look at me darlin”

Taglist: @azanoni @scorpioempress @fanficwriter5 @elliesr1fle @imimatcha4life @indigosparkle444

[roscolate]

*inhales slowly and deeply*

SOOO MARIO FAM HOW WE FEELIN’

[euphoricfilter]

okay gotta scrap the tiktok edit because it’s just making me sad ☝️😔

[odetolovers]

it is absolutely wild the way i’ve allowed people to treat me

[peapod20001]

I actually do have very complex thoughts about many different things, it’s just a bit challenging to connect the inner voice to the outer voice sometimes </3

[sacha-da-1]

You ever lose someone important to you, whether it was a human or a pet, and you just ask yourself: “What’s keeping me here? Why should I keep living in the place where this happened? Surrounded by the things I’ve wanted to escape even long before they’d gone?”

[the-fog-system]

.

[comvi]

I always have to remind myself that I don’t need to push myself to make art, and I don’t need to apologize or feel bad for not making a lot of art. art is something that should make me feel happy, so if I’m pushing myself to the point of not enjoying it anymore, then I should just stop and calm down for a second. and take some time for myself. Art won’t disappear, it will always be there waiting for me again, its okay for me to take some time doing others things sometimes.

[truly-quirkless-a]

[@eraseur | Liked for a starter!]

"Aizawa?- Dude, y'know this site's off limits unless you warn me firs..." Fin trailed off, seeing the doorway just beyond where the male stood- and the completely fixed site behind him. It looked...untouched. They jumped from their seat, running for the door.- Even at a dead-sprint, the human wasn't able to get there in time- and it slammed shut. "Damnit--!"

"Fin, is something wrong?" Toshinori had been walking down the road, two bento boxes in hand. He paused as his eyes landed on the other male, blinking for a moment. He'd run into Aizawa as he'd been grabbing the two boxes from the teacher's lounge (much to a disapproving glare)...and there was no way Aizawa (at least, his version) could've beaten him here, so...

"....that was your door, wasn't it...?"

[willowfey]

.

[cupcakeslushie]

Introducing Lita May!

I’d originally introduced Lita to my patreons, but Ive now changed a lot of her backstory (and design), because I was struck by inspiration at like three in the morning, (and was getting fomo from all the other absolutely adorable turtle babies I’ve been seeing)

So we all know Donnie created a mech body for Raph thanks to concept art, but in this AU, I feel like Donnie would be juuuuust morally questionable enough to think creating backup clones first would be a good idea. He wasn’t expecting the small bits of Krang tech he had to incorporate to have such a huge impact, tbh he wasn’t even really expecting anything at all—which is also why he used his own DNA for the trial run, and…since Donnie wasn’t expecting a success, he was pretty shocked at the final result.

Donnie was also only able to observe the first month and a half of “incubation” (tube not egg), but was, unfortunately stuck at another resistance base for so long, when he returned, Lita May had grown a substantial amount and was ready to be removed from her tube (he was back for like two days before she started opening her eyes and reacting to stimulus). She took three months total to grow.

Raph and Leo kinda don’t really know how to react to her. Leo immediately clocks the Krang characteristics and is pretty furious. Raph is just confused, but when Donnie fills them in on the origin of Lita’s birth, Raph’s not too happy either. Neither one takes it out on Lita. Donnie does get a pretty severe talking to. Mikey, Timothy and Cass are so excited, and April is beyond shocked to be named the godmother. The family keeps Lita a secret, but it’s evident that she’s got some Krang in her, and they all know that the other members of the resistance might try to hurt her, and ask Renet to take her. Casey loses his playmate, but he does get to see her every few months.

She’s kept in the dark about her family’s future, and is pretty mad at Renet for not warning her of her anything, and she eventually gets sick of the secrets.

[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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