#insomnia drabble

[kawoala]

⁝ KOZUME KENMA 𝜗𝜚 2:34 am 𝜗𝜚

ᰔ word count ; 293

ᰔ content warning ; implied insomnia 、 twitch streamer! kenma 、 drabble 、 kiyoko is pregnant for some reason? 、 time-stamp.

2:34 am.

“you don’t get enough sleep.”

the light from his computer is filling the room, illuminating his face and everything around him. he turns around to look at you, a tired look in his eyes. theres a moment of silence as he stares at you before he gives you a small, crooked smile, forcing you to replace the serious look you had tried so hard to keep with a smile of your own.

“kenma,” you scowl playfully, walking over to him quietly. your feet pad against the hardwood floor, each step sending a shiver up your spine. “we went to bed together so we could wake up together.”

he presses his lips together and nods once. “i know,” he whispers, voice raspy - tired. you get closer to him and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “couldn’t sleep. i had an idea for a stream and then-“

“then your brain was up and running?” you finish for him, laughing lightly. you look down at him and cup his face in your hands, squishing his cheeks together. “i understand that, i do, but you need to get sleep. we have a big day tomorrow.”

“we do?” he quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head as best as he can with you holding him. when your brows furrow, he chuckles. “i’m kidding. baby shower for kiyoko, i know.”

“can you believe it? people our age are having *babies* now. i feel so…” you trail off, sighing. “old.”

“we’re twenty-three, y/n.”

you roll your eyes at him. “i know that!” you exclaim. “i’m just saying… hey! you’re supposed to be coming back to bed with me, you know.”

he smiles again. “okay, y/n. let’s go to bed.”

[jokeringcutio]

DRABBLE/ Insomnia!READER X THE GRABBER

Fandom: Black Phone 2022

Pairing: The Grabber/ Albert Shaw x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: Kidnapping, Dark!, Non-con/Dub-con, Forced!Blowjob, Smut, Insomnia!Reader, Kidnapped!Reader, Victim!Reader. Implied age gap/ older man/younger woman, somnophilia, use of Little/good Girl.

AN: for @ninakuli How would the Grabber react if the reader couldn’t get to sleep? Well, this might be one of the ways.

->

“Can’t sleep?”

The rough voice made you look up from your position lying on the moldy mattress. You wondered how anyone could sleep here. A stranger’s house, a damp basement, an unknown environment. The walls were bare except for the painting peeling down. The tiny barred window that let in the only light, whether it was day or night because of the lamp that hung in front of it, was up too high. The walls absorbed any sound. It was a prison made with hellish barriers.

And then there was that stranger who came watching. You never knew when he would be down here. Never knew what he would do next. It had you on edge. How could anyone ever sleep when he was around?

So far, he’d mostly been down to watch you, talk to you, work on your mind until his words confused you and you started to believe you’d ended up here all because of your own doing. That you deserved being here.

But there had been that one time when you had pretended to have been asleep, eyes closed, in hopes he would become bored and turn away. But instead of leaving, you had heard his breathing deepen. And then you had felt his hand between your thighs, fingers pressing deep into your clothed skin until one finger curled against your covered cunt. You could still feel his fingertip press against your sensitive bud. The touch hadn’t lasted long, for you’d shot up instantly and his hand had been back by his side almost just as fast. But you were certain it had not been a dream.

And now you were scared of him. Frightened, that if you were to go to sleep, he might take you in it. That he might claim your body as his own when you could not fight back.

Anxiety ate you, piece by piece until it wrecked your nerves and made you shiver with fearful anticipation. Any sound would trigger a panicked reaction and would have you sit up and open your eyes. Because he is here again, isn’t he? Even when he wasn’t. You were constantly alert, ready to shy away from any advances he might try to make.

And so, you blinked up at him fearfully while you wondered what he would be doing next. He’d commented on your lack of sleep the past few times he’d been down there, annoyed that he couldn’t watch you sleep like he had the others. You didn’t know how many had been here before you, only that he somehow seemed to enjoy observing them when they weren’t awake.

Creep, you thought. You wondered if he got off of it. And why he couldn’t just enjoy you while you were awake?

Perhaps that had been a wrong thought to have, because what he said next made shivers run down your spine.

“I know just the thing.” Just the thing for what? To make you sleepy? You wondered for a moment if he referred to some kind of drug, or if he might just knock you out with one of his fists. But he did neither.

He cocked his head to the side, the mask’s chin pointed at his right shoulder. He was observing you, his stance pensively. What was he thinking? But then you regretted that thought when the man came over to you, coming closer than he had in the past few days.

“An ancient old medicine,” he said, voice low and gruff, while he started to unbuckle his belt. And that was the moment you realized what he might be implying. What he might want from you. He probably had wanted this all along.

Your eyes grew wide with fear as you tried to crawl back on the mattress until your back hit the wall and you couldn’t back away any further. “It has proven to be very effective over time,” his husky voice sounded. Then a chuckle emerged from behind the mask as he pushed his pants and underpants down to reveal an achingly hard cock, pre-cum dripping from the tip and glistening in the faint light that fell in from the window above.

The belt was wrapped around his right fist, the end of it dangling in front of you.

You tried to shield your eyes with your hands. “Please,” you begged when you noticed he’d stepped even closer and completely ignored the fact that you had tried to get away. “No, please,” his hand was upon your wrist, yanking it away to uncover your eyes. You looked up at him, tears glistening in your eyes, while you pleaded for him to spare you. “I’ll go to sleep,” you said, voice choked by tears. “Please, I’ll be good. I’ll go to sleep. You don’t need to do this.”

He paused in his actions and there was that tilt of his head again as he studied you through the hole-eyes of the mask. The belt dropped from his hand and fell to the basement floor with a clank.

His right hand came up to your cheek and you flinched, afraid he might slap you there. But his touch was gentle, his palm lightly upon your skin. You opened your eyes again to look up at him mistrustingly and wished you could tell what kind of expression he held behind that darned mask he was wearing.

You couldn’t tell. All you knew was that he was taking his time, standing there, only inches away from you. He was gently caressing your cheek, his thumb tracing circles. The motion was soothing as if he was trying to comfort you. It worked as well, for you felt your shoulders relax somewhat, despite your brain being on full alert.

His other hand was holding his cock. The aching hard member twitched in his grip as a new spurt of pre-cum droplets emerged from the tip. You tried not to look at it, which was hard as his shaft was on eye-level with you, ready to be brought to your lips.

Would he do it? You wondered how far he would go. He hadn’t touched you before like this. He’d been mostly at a distance. Except for that one time. But it figured he would eventually succumb to these primal desires. Why else had he taken you? If it had been just to kill then he would have done so already. Why keep you alive if not for this?

You whimpered, slightly trembling under his caress. A low hum escaped the masked man, then he stood straight again and you saw him move his upper body. The vest he was wearing fell open, his naked stomach showed. Round, you thought, pudgy. Yet, the muscles that showed on his chest betrayed your kidnapper was a man of strength. A strength that was confirmed almost instantly when he suddenly reached for you.

You felt your head being yanked towards him, and his shaft that had been angled at your lips was now pressed against them, begging you to spread them wide. He kept pushing, roughly, until the meat was between your lips and the head of his cock was upon your tongue. The salty taste of flesh mixed with the bitterness of the pre-cum filled your mouth and you hollowed your cheeks. And then he started to thrust.

You looked up at him, pleading silently for his mercy. But at the sight of your tear-stained eyes, his thrusts grew even fiercer and his grip on your head even tighter. You were left with no alternative but to suck, accepting his cock deep inside your throat.

Low, deep rumbles came from the depth of his chest when you started to cooperate. He was pleased, humming and moaning ‘oh yeah’ and ‘just like that’. Sounds that vibrated through his cock until you felt them in your mouth.

Dirty, your mind provided you while he moved you up and down his shaft. The salty and bitter taste of him filled you completely. The curly hairs around his manhood pressed into your nostrils when he pushed your head forward, blocking off your chance to breathe. You sputtered around him, feeling the tip at the back of your throat, feeling his cock spasm between your lips.

You gurgled and sputtered, trying not to choke. A moment of respite when he slid your head back again and his cock nearly left your lips, but then he pushed forward again until his hips met your cheek and your nose was nestled deep within his pubic hair.

You gasped and tried to claw at his hips, but all you felt was how he kept a tight grip on your head and stilled his movements, leaving his cock deep between your lips, the head pushing the back of your throat.

The process repeated itself a few more times, until his cock finally slipped from your lips and you were left gasping for air. A trail of sperm and saliva dripped from your lips and ran down your chin. You moved your hand up to wipe it away, but he caught your wrist before you could get there.

Staring up at him with wide eyes, you heard a chuckle derive from behind the mask. “Na-ah,” the man tusked, his low gravelly voice making something twist deep inside you. A longing, a tingle that had you squeezing your legs together. A foreboding feeling washed over you, that he wasn’t finished just yet. That this was only the beginning.

“Leave it there,” the man hummed. The pause that followed felt too long, making you writhe uncomfortably while you waited for him to either speak or let go of your hand. In the end, he did both, nearly at the same time. “I think I will have to cover your face in a layer of my spunk next time,” there was that rasp again. You had heard it before, how he could slide from a normal, almost gentle tone, into a demonic rasp that was usually used when he was angry and full of curses. “Paint your face a nice white with my cum,” he clicked his tongue behind the mask. His voice became lighter again.

“But for now, there’s another way I have in mind to tire you.”

You shivered at the promise and tried to back away again. The man in front of you got hold of his throbbing cock, wrapping his left hand around it. You saw how his fingers curled around the glistening shaft, still covered in your saliva, and watched how the veins throbbed when he moved his hand up and down at a firm but gentle pace. The ring on his finger glinted in the weak light, skin rippling as he pumped his hand up and down his throbbing cock. Still hard. Balls underneath heavy with cum.

“Undress, sweetie,” he cooed, voice soft like honey.  But when you refused to do as he said, his tone turned drier and more menacing again.

What happened next was much of a blur. He made you undress for him, tweak your nipples for him, rub your hands up and down your bare chest for him while he watched and laughed and licked his tongue past his teeth at the show. His hand never ceased moving up and down slowly, hardening himself underneath his touch until he thought it was enough.

 “Spread your legs, sweetheart,” it took only one command and you were back on your back on the mattress. Your bare back scrubbed along the mold. Even covered in the dark shade of the mask, you could see the glistening of his eyes, pupils wide. You hesitatingly spread your legs for him.

He crawled over you, cock still in his hand, and pressed your legs apart to fit himself in between. His right hand was on your thigh, palm pressed against your soft skin. His left hand guided his cock to your quivering cunt until you felt the head kiss your labia. A wet feeling against your pussy lips and you realized he was smearing his pre-cum at your entrance, deliberately rubbing the head of his cock up and down your entrance while some of the pre-cum came seeping out.

Your fingers clawed at his shoulders and your lips parted in a gasp. “Please,” you begged, knowing it to be futile. Then he dipped in, just the head. Careful fingers pressed the tip in. Not enough to hurt yet, just enough to tease.

He paused in his actions just to bend down, his hair brushed against your cheek as he whispered near your face. “That’s my good girl.”

Then he thrust forth without mercy.

You were speared upon his cock that night, in the basement that was your prison. He left you sore and tired as he forced orgasm after orgasm out of your trembling body beneath him.

He’d been right. You closed your eyes and fell into a dreamless slumber afterward, relieved when he finally rose from the bed and left you alone. You were too tired to notice when the Grabber returned for you in the midst of the night to get some more relief. Until you faintly awoke to wet sounds and the odd feeling of something thrusting deep inside you.

“Hush, pretty girl,” the low voice whispered in your ear, hips moving relentlessly while he kept pushing himself inside. One hand was on your breast, squeezing it tightly while he toyed with you. His other arm was around your waist, his knee between your legs as he held you from behind, your cunt squeezing down on his cock which was covered in your mixed juices.

“I’ll make you go to sleep soon, little one. Don’t you worry. I’ll make you sleep real deep.”  

[sunshinebingo]

Gwynriel - 600 words - Just fluff

Inspired by the picture used in the title card, and a conversation with some friends on discord. I wish I remembered who was in that discussion so I could tag them specifically. Sorry guys 🥺

"It was a beautiful mystery, she thought as she gazed at him, how some people came together as intuitively as the laws of nature. Were such people born already belonging to each other, or..."

Gwyn pauses. She lifts the hand that isn't holding her book to cover her mouth as a yawn break from her lips. She turns the page and continues to read aloud, her hand going back to playing with the silky hair of the male who is holding one of her legs hostage.

"...or was it some gods who, after much observation, placed them on the same path? She had never truly unders..."

Her voice starts to come out a little slurred. Her eyelids droop. The words on the page start to merge, the c blending into the e, the same e that looks no different from an a. She yawns again.

Gwyn picks up the blue ribbon she uses as a bookmark from her lap and places it in between the pages before closing the book.

Her arms rise above her head as she stretches her body to get rid of the stiffness that has settled in after hours of sitting on this couch.

Azriel grumbles. He hugs her left leg tighter, preventing Gwyn from straightening it properly. She huffs and brings both of her hands to his head to push him away. But all pretence of annoyance is erased from her face when she looks down at him.

Gwyn can't stop herself from smiling at the sight of one of the scariest looking and broodiest male that she has ever known holding onto her leg like a child would their comfort blanket. His large body is turned on his side with one of his feet dangling off the end of the couch. His bare chest rises and fall with each slow breath he takes. There is a slight furrow to his brows, no doubt from Gwyn having apparently so rudely dared to interrupt his sleep.

She brushes away the few curls of his obsidian hair that have fallen on his forehead. The sound that rumbles out of him when her nails gently scrapes along his scalp is akin to the purr of a contented cat. Gwyn's whole body shake from her giggle despite her attempt to stifle it. Azriel grumbles again and tightens his hold on her. Any tighter and he will cut off the blood circulation in this leg.

"Can I move?" she asks with a light tug on his hair.

"No," Azriel mumbles, his deep voice barely audible. "You're stuck with me."

He nuzzles his face against her leg. One of his hands glides higher and stops at the seam of her sleeping shorts where his thumb starts caressing her skin.

She shakes her head. Of course she is stuck with him. She smiles. But there is no one else she would rather be stuck with.

Very slowly so as not to awake the grumbling sleeping beauty, she slides herself lower on the couch until she is mostly lying down and she can place her head on the armrest. She adjusts the few cushions she can reach beneath her head and at her sides. Gwyn sighs when she finally manages to get somewhat comfortable.

Unable to properly kiss him goodnight, she kisses her own fingers instead and lightly slaps them on the small part of his face that isn't buried between her leg and the cushion beneath it.

She picks her book back up and opens it again, intent on reading incomprehensible words until they put her to sleep. Her other hand returns to its rightful place in Azriel's hair. Tomorrow she will need to find a way to remind him that he is also stuck with her. She hopes that eternity won't be too much for him.

[harmonysanreads]

Hi hi! I really like your writing! Can i request diluc with a reader thats always sleepy? They can sleep anywhere at anytime if they want to

Hiii!! You're too sweet haha, Diluc's paranoia will reach Celestia with a sleepy reader lol Since it was unspecified, I'll go with a soft yandere Diluc :) Hope you like it!

cw: yandere, obsessive diluc, implications of murder and gore

There you were, passed out on the counter of Angel's Share for the sixth time this week.

The tavern was left empty after the last batch of customers retired, apart from the shuffles of master Ragnvindr preparing to close the threshold and the distant sound of crickets ; it's desolate in the otherwise bustling Angel's share. Whatever work you'd brought to work on with you had long been abandoned, the papers now reduced to the role of a makeshift pillow.

Dliuc sighs, leaning on his elbow beside your unassuming figure from the other side of the counter. His usually unimpressed gaze that the people of Mondstadt are subjected to has been replaced by something more fond and worried. This seeming gluttony of sleep is nothing short of an enigma, not that the young master hadn't tried to ascertain the exact cause behind your hypersomnia — even the Chief Alchemist of the Knights probed around (as Diluc received intel) but as it is, master Ragnvindr had long learned that it was easier to take care of you than to gauge the reasons.

The number of times he was able to engage in normal conversation with you is disappointingly few, you seem to not care for that though as you're more prominently drifting off to dreamland in his presence, just as he doesn't care in making sure you're safe in these moments of vulnerability.

Still, Diluc couldn't keep his thoughts from wandering ; is it because he always makes sure to drop you off to your home every time you fall asleep in the tavern? Do you trust him that much?

His gloved hand reflexively reaches forward to tuck the stray lock of your hair behind your ear, the serenity in your face captivates the young master enough to lose track of coherent thoughts. Something in him compels him to remove his glove, his skin now bared to the chill night breeze.

What extent of Diluc's actions are you aware of? Is his gentlemanly gestures all you know of him? Do you know who clears up the area of your humble home of monsters every night? Are you aware of who the sender of the sweet notes, different concoctions to aid your sleep deprivation, bouquets of flowers that always wilt at the end of the day and the little handmade gifts is?

His touch is feathery, a candid expression to mask his hesitance — the pad of his thumb caresses the undeniable shade of dark under your eyes, then to your cheek that feels colder under his warm hand.

Can you hear the screams? Can you feel how his stare burns in the rare moments you are awake and decide someone else is better worth your attention? Do you have any idea how these visceral affections threaten to consume him and more so, you every waking hour of the day? Do you understand how much it hurts?

Inevitably, his thumb falls on your lips, marvelling at the softness. He must look pathetic now, all his yearning is laid bare and raw ; it's obvious he's on the brink of his restraint, no longer the gentleman Mondstadt knew him as but a man, hungry, slowly succumbing to desire and anything but noble.

Diluc Ragnvindr retreats at your sudden shuffling, watching with a flushed face that put his hair to shame as your brows crease and discomfort is apparent all over your face — he surmises it to be another nightmare.

A piece of him shames him for acting upon impulse but that self-loathing is lost at your person ; you're clearly suffering (and so is he), in that case, is it really so wrong for him to want to shield you from this world's cruelty?

Diluc would never be anything short of courteous with you, as he's proved time and time again. But, as the night and his anxiety deepened, the world lost its hue more and more and a man's yearning engulfed him whole — Diluc didn't feel like returning you to your home tonight, anymore.

[fbfh]

Hey! Could you please do some headcannons of cuddling with Jay from descendants?

Thank you!

oh fuck yes baby boy NEEDS a snuggle so fuckin bad. Jay is SO motherfucking - his full name is Janasheen Lagmani Mufti btw (successor, born at nightfall, one who gives council or legal advice) - Jay is SO motherfuckin touch starved that he'll get injured on purpose just so he can feel you touch him up. After a while you start to catch onto this because you don't have the heart to tell him he's not quite as slick as he thinks he is. So OBVIOUSLY I have a medieval game OBVIOUSLY I have a jousting game the only way you're gonna get him to turn into your snuggly lil bunbun (yes he does insist you call him that after you say it once as a joke and he loses his mind) is to make him think YOU'RE really the one who needs cuddles. like of course you're feeling kinda sad and tired from all your schoolwork so of COURSE you need a big strong tough cool guy star of the tourney team to make you feel all safe and cozy. obviously it's TOTALLY for your benefit. not at all because Jay was not hugged once as a child! that's hilarious and true and totally not the reason at all! I just washed my hands that's why they're wet! no other reason!

but yeah once you actually start cuddling with him it's going to take approximately less that six seconds for him to become a total and complete velcro boyfriend. it takes longer to watch any vine in existance than it does for Jay to latch onto you like a small baby bird. he did not know that touchy feely stuff could be so... nice. especially when it's with you. he tried giving Carlos and Evie and Mal bear hugs between classes when he's away from you and it was good, but it wasn't the same. Maybe it's because Carlos still thinks he's going to get suplexed whenever Jay grabs him like that or maybe it's because Mal keeps asking if he huffed her spraypaint and that's why he's so huggy out of nowhere (Evie doesn't mind too much as long as he doesn't wrinkle her outfits or mess with her hair and makeup. she actually approves of you two and likes that you're bringing out Jay's more affectionate side. she makes a mental note to give you the friends and family discount on any future designs you order from her.) but shortly after that first time you snuggled up with Jay and had him tell you all about the video games he's been playing and about tourney practice he's full on addicted to your touch and cuddles. Coach sometimes has to pull you off your extra curriculars to give Jay hugs and kisses during practice when he cops an attitude or gets too rowdy. you're known as the Jay whisperer immediately and believe me the nickname sticks. Carlos asks what the hype is once and you give him head scratches and he understands.

[leezlelatch]

“Copia, would you save me if I was kidnapped by ghosts?”

All is quiet in the bedroom for several seconds, the question hanging in the air before Copia rolls over, his eyes bleary from sleep as he looks at you.

“Eh…what?” His tired face screws up in confusion. “Why are ghosts kidnapping you?”

“Don’t think too much into it, just answer the question.”

Copia has the good nature to look amused by your early, early morning question, his arms wrapping around you to pull you across the mattress, squeezing you to him like a teddy bear as he rests his cheek just above yours.

“Mmm, I would be very sad, amore,” he mumbles, closing his eyes as he nuzzles sweetly into your skin. “Very angry that ghosts took you from me.”

“So what would you do?” His sweet embrace is rapidly drawing you back to sleep, your voice soft.

“Ah, la risposta è semplice. I would summon an entire demonic army to save you and deliver the ghosts unto Satan,” Copia heaves a sleepy sigh, his voice growing quieter. “Their souls would burn in the pit in eternal hellfire.”

You stir and twist in his embrace to look at him. “Wait, you can do that?”

Copia hooks a leg around yours and readjusts you, his body like a weighted blanket to calm your racing little mind. He drags the covers firmly over you both. “Go to sleep, amore.”

You fall into silence for several seconds.

“I love you, Copia.”

A lingering kiss to your forehead, a soothing thumb across your brow. “And I love you, so very much,” he says.

[thelightsandtheroses]

1.5: You're face to face with the man who sold the world

Your Hand In Mine | Joel Miller x female reader.

Word Count: 1k Drabble Summary: The morning after meeting you at your insomnia bench, Joel and Ellie meet Tommy for breakfast and Joel reflects on his life in Jackson and the opportunities it presents for Ellie. Warnings: TLOU Part 1 plot spoilers, implied angst, introspectio, no other warnings come to mind, this is very much just some Joel introspection and me starting to delve into his perspective. You do not need to have read Your Hand In Mine to understand this but if you're reading the fic it bridges chapter 1 and 2. Notes: This is my very first drabble and a bit of an experiment for me and has helped me through a little writing block. The next full chapter will be coming soon and will include lots of interaction between the reader and Joel. Drabble title from the song Man Who Sold The World by David Bowie/covered by Nirvana (this is the version I personally love)

Series List | Chapter One |

Joel observes as Ellie takes another forkful of food, her gaze rising to watch him for a second before turning her attention back to her meal.

Change hasn’t always meant great things for Ellie. Jackson has been a big adjustment. She’s back at school after almost a year on the road, after everything they endured there. It’s her first time in a school not run by FEDRA though, her first time living in a community like this.

Joel still remembers Before, but he knows Ellie has no point of reference here. He’s never truly thought about that before, about the way this world looks to kids born after the outbreak. He’s been too lost in his grief and survival to ever think about things like that, but now he thinks about it all the time.

He takes a forkful of his own food, trying to stifle a yawn. Ellie doesn’t need to know he’s not sleeping; he doesn’t need her worrying about him. Colorado was bad enough. He’s supposed to look after her. That’s why he bought her here after Salt Lake City.

From the corner of his eye, Joel notices Tommy walk into the hall. Tommy raises a friendly hand before getting his own portion of food and joining them as your earlier words echo in Joel’s mind.

Heard you and Tommy are good on patrol …

Years ago, Tommy abandoned left him in Boston. He made it clear that the way they’d survived haunted him and whether he said it or not, he blamed Joel. Probably still does. 

Joel can carry that though. It’s okay. He kept his brother alive, didn’t he? So, as far as he’s concerned, he did his job and maybe there were better ways, but he worked with the tools he had at the time.

‘Hey Joel, Ellie,” Tommy says cheerfully.

“How’s it going?” Joel asks.

“It’s good, it’s good.” Tommy pauses. Despite his bright exterior, Joel recognises his sleep deprived eyes. His brother’s expression is one he remembers well from when Sarah was a baby. It’s strange to see it mirrored on his baby brother’s face now; a sign of how much time has really passed.

“Yeah, you look like it’s real good,” Joel says wryly. “Baby keeping you up?” Tommy’s a father now. Joel wishes it didn’t tear a little piece of his heart apart each time he looks at his niece’s face, but it does. It should be a blessing not a wound, but it cuts him so deeply.

She’s like Sarah, but she’s not Sarah. 

“She’s sleeping a little,” Tommy retorts quickly.

“Oh yeah?” Joel asks, raising an eyebrow at Ellie who fails to stifle her own laugh.

“Yeah.” Joel remembers how when his niece was born, Tommy had boasted she was sleeping already, that she was going to be a good baby.  Joel didn’t quite have the heart to warn him this was common, that she was unintentionally lulling him into a false sense of security.

His brother has made a life here. Maybe Joel can do the same, maybe it isn’t too late. He can feel that promise of hope, something he can hardly even remember from before.

The last twenty years have been built on violence, threat assessment and mitigation. They’ve been about survival and nothing else.

Until now.

Jackson is the first place Joel thinks he might be able to breathe. If there weren’t the continual ghosts of what he’s done,  the fact he’s keeping the truth about what happened at that hospital from Ellie.

He’d do it again for her though.

Every. Damn. Time.

It doesn’t make it any easier to sleep at night though.

  He didn’t expect to run into anyone when he left the house this morning. In Boston when he didn’t sleep, there were pills and alcohol, but it’s different now. He just needed to clear his head, walk around a little so he didn’t disturb Ellie.  He’d found the bench a few days before, but he could never have anticipated you being there too, or that either of you would start talking.

When Joel looks across the hall, as he listens to Ellie and Tommy talking, he notices you’re walking into the hall as if his thoughts had somehow summoned you.

He watches you smile broadly as you sit with two men and a teenage boy. You’re deep in conversation, a faint smile on your face as you collect your food and your group sit a couple of tables away from Joel’s family and dive into an animated conversation.

When Joel next looks over, you tip your head slightly as you laugh, bare a tiny bit of throat. He shouldn’t notice that.

You’re both the same and completely different to the woman he met on the bench last night. He notices you stifle a yawn when you think no one is looking, the only hint he’s seen that you’re hiding something from your group.

There’s something about you, about the conversation you shared that is drawing him in like a siren’s song.

He could ask Tommy about you. He could find out more about who you are, who you’re with, the life you lead outside of a bench in the middle of the night. Seeing you with your group, he recalls vague introductions and details from when he first came to Jackson. You’re something to do with the library? He can’t remember the links between the two men and you, but he recognises enough of you in the teenage boy to make the connection that he is clearly a relative of some type.

It doesn’t feel right to ask for information though. He’s curious, but something in Joel tells him that if he wants to get to know you, the real you, then all he needs to do is walk over to that bench on another sleepless night.

“Everything okay?” Ellie asks, looking up from her plate with a frown. “Joel?”

Tommy looks over at Joel then, raises an eyebrow with a silent question.

“Sure, kiddo. Hey, did you say you found a new book on space the other day?”

“Yeah, I did,” she says animatedly, “It’s really cool actually. The library here has a lot of books that weren’t in my old school library. Plus, they have DVDs, Joel. DVDs!”

Joel can’t help the way his smile widens as he listens to Ellie continue to talk. Everything he did between Boston and Salt Lake City; it was worth it for this.

He can feel hope setting root in his body, unfamiliar and strange. Maybe change is a good thing.

Tag List

YHIM: @orcasoul @pedropascalsbb g@yoursoulsunbreakable @iamskyereads @genetics4life@everyth1ngfan @frickatives @perennialdoll247 @joels-darlin @anavatazes @survivingandenduring @suzmagine @srmacaroni

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk

If you want to be added to (or removed from) one of the tag lists, let me know or you can get notifications for @thelightsandtheroses-fics if you prefer. If you do not have an age or age range showing you are over 18, I will not add you to this list. I block ageless and blank blogs.

[lacefedora]

Ambrosia: Devil's Minion / Armandaniel

I was inspired by THIS POST that provided such a vivid image I had to write it. this ficlet is rated E, sexy bits are under the cut.

-

Daniel doesn't remember biting into his neck, but that moan was going to haunt him the rest of his life. Armand moaning into his ear, panting against it in desperate gasps, each breath coming in time with each slow draw that Daniel took into his mouth. Savoring the blood. He'll never forget the heady burst of flavor. He will make certain of it.

Honey and pineapple Louis had said. He was wrong. It was so much sweeter.

Daniel had been too dazed when Armand had turned it to really taste it. And with Armand immediately taking off Daniel had been desperately depressed he might never taste it again. To get the chance to really imprint it on his memory. He wouldn't miss the chance now.

Armand moves and Daniel latches on tighter. His long fangs sinking deeper, bringing more exquisite, ancient blood to the surface. He hears Armand whimper and Daniel is dimly aware of sharp glass edge nails ripping into his skin. Like Armand is trying to claw him closer, desperate for even more contact than Daniel's teeth in him.

Daniel can't complain; really he wants to do the same. No high he'd ever chased could possibly compare to this. He'd like to split him open and crawl inside to drink from him until he died. This must be what ambrosia had tasted like. That's what it was. Not Honey and Pineapple. Ambrosia. Food only fit for the gods.

"Daniel please." Armand is gasping, the first words he's gotten out since this ordeal started. And they're desperate, thready, devoid of composure. Daniel will do anything to make him sound like that every day... the control freak unraveling, coming apart at the seems. A whole new brand of addiction taking hold in him. Or fuck, maybe this was religious fervor. Divine ecstasy.

Daniel knows what he wants too. He can taste it in his blood, smell it on his skin, feel it in the wanton twitch of hips. He moves his hand to the front of Armand's pants and rubs the deliciously hard cock he finds there. Timing it perfectly to align with the pull of blood from his veins. Armand thrashes bracing himself against the wall to push into the touch.

Armand's next moan is like a church bell, abrupt and resonant. Daniel can feel it echoing around in his brain. Daniel uses his claws well, slicing the button off Armand's pants and pulling down the zipper to shove them down off of him. At long last he wraps his fingers around Armand's cock. They both moan at the contact, though Daniel's is muffled by his mouthful. Fuck he must have almost bitten clean through the skin. Like a rabid dog.

Daniel hesitates, very nearly pulling his teeth free to look Armand in the face. But there's a mad scramble of limbs then Armand is grabbing the back of his neck and holding Daniel firmly in place. Daniel unwinds from his tension and then draws down another gulp of blood. He squeezes Armand's cock… He'd have to get a good look at it later. It feels as pretty as the rest of him. He works him much faster than the slow little drinks he was taking. The contrast drives Armand wild as he suspected and the moans he gives are completely unrehearsed. Needy.

Daniel can feel how hard his own cock is. He's been hard since the moment he sank his teeth into him. But he isn't paying himself any mind at all. It's completely secondary to the way Armand is falling apart pressed against the wall. Daniel shifts his grip and he knows it must be good because Armand jerks in his arms, tearing his flesh further. The renewed gush of blood causes Daniel to push his own cock against Armand's hip, mindlessly seeking friction.

The action causes Armand to give a choked cry that he muffles against Daniel as he comes in glorious hot spirts. The blood gets on both of them. Their shirts and Daniel's arm and hand. Daniel finally releases the bite, pulling back to admire his handy work… it looks much like his neck had looked before it scarred. The comparison doesn't bother him so much as it should. He smiles and the brings up his other hand to bite his thumb and close the wounds.

"Leave them. Let thim heal on their own." Armand insists, the quick as light he has Daniel pinned to the wall instead, dropping to his knees and ripping open his fly. His fangs are out as he swallows Daniel's cock down to the hilt. Daniel doesn't even warn him not to bite. He drops his head against the wall with a thud, moaning. He felt high, but still beautifully lucid. He laughs breathlessly as he winds his clean hand into Armand's hair. The other hand he brings to his mouth, licking it clean with Armand starting to give him by far the messiest blow job he can remember.

Daniel comes when Armand scrapes his teeth over his dick with deliberate intention. All he can taste is Armand's sweet blood in his mouth.

[sunsage]

The sea is far too cold this late in autumn but he doesn't seem to care, lowering his hands into the frigid water and scrubbing at his face, trying to rid of the dark paint stuck to it. The water around him is starting to look like an oil spill.

[moon-and-stars-selfship]

Decaf

Length-Medium

Ship-Ignis Scientia

Owen stumbled into the lounge of the hotel they were staying in, his legs barely functioning. Even if his mind had been awake for hours, his body had yet to catch up. Despite barely being able to hold him the aching restlessness in his calves and tingling in his toes refused to relent.

Making his way to one of the recliners that sat in the middle of the lounge he collapsed, placing his palm on his face and exhaling with exhaustion. "Couldn't sleep?" He jumped slightly at the voice, sitting up and turning to find Ignis standing at the mini kitchenette wearing his underclothes. Seeing him in boxers and a tank top outside of the bed was jarring, though still wearing his glasses he retained a modicum of his usual refined appearance. Even so, the sight alone of him already made Owen feel more relaxed.

As he lay back in the recliner he made a noise in affirmation. "Yeah, RLS. How about you?" The sound of boiling water brought a rich aroma to his attention. "More of a restless mind. Coffee?" Ignis offered, already pouring a mug for him. "Won't that just wake me up?" Owen asked, accepting the offered mug regardless. "Not if you know how to brew it." Ignis was pouring his own cup now. Awake or asleep, as long as he was either one or the other would be better than being halfway between each.

By the time Owen had added a packet of creamer from the bowl on the table to his coffee Ignis' glasses were already fogged up, and as he lifted the steaming mug to his lips he took a sip. He nearly spat out the boiling liquid at how bitter it was. "Augh...This tastes terrible." It was nothing like the smooth, balanced flavor that he'd come to associate with Ebony. He instinctively started to reach for the sugar before Ignis spoke up. "Now now, sugar won't get anything done this early. Or this late, rather, depending on how you look at it." Owen grimaced, looking back down at the brown liquid and deciding to forego the sugar.

Ignis took another sip off his coffee, hardly reacting to the excessive bitterness. "And I well imagine it should: It's decaf." His gaze shifted to Ignis leaning on the counter as he opted to simply add more creamer. "I didn't know you even had the stuff." Ignis swirled his mug, looking into the black fluid. "Yes, I find it's quite useful to have on hand for nights like this." Owen hunched over, looking back at his now pale brown drink before taking a sip. Bearable. "So...What's got your mind racing? Is everything okay?" He turned his head to see Ignis facing the wall. "Nothing really to be concerned with. Truth be told it's nothing more troubling than needing to restock on a few spices at the next chance." Ignis raised his mug again before seemingly changing him mind, lowering it without taking a sip. "No, everything is just fine. Simply thoughts that won't settle for the night."

Owen pushed himself from the recliner, standing and walking to Ignis' side where he leaned against the counter beside him. "Ever thoughtful." Owen observed, setting his right hand on the counter between them. "Almost to a flaw." Ignis mused, moving his left hand down to accept the silent offering. As he rested his hand on Owen's his fingers slid between his partner's. Owen took a moment to appreciate the unhindered contact as he lifted his fingers, tightening them against Ignis'.

The two stayed together in silence, enjoying one another's present in the night while the both of them being too tired to do much else. After several minutes Owen yawned, the fatigue having shifted back into sleepiness. As he realized that his legs were hurting less Ingis spoke up. "Looks to me as if the coffee is working as intended." Owen took one more sip, the drink having grown a bit more tolerable. Just a bit. "Looks like it." He moved from the counter to dump the remaining liquid in the nearby sink, rinsing the black ring from the cup. "Not entirely useless having decaf around. I say I'm feeling more at ease myself," Ignis said, moving from the counter. Stepping aside Owen gave him room to clean his own cup.

As he set it to the side to dry Owen moved towards him, placing his chest against his back and resting his chin on his shoulder. "What say we try to get a bit more shut eye. We might have more luck if we spend the rest of the night together~" With a chuckle Ignis turned his head, and as he craned his neck Owen leaned closer, moving in so they could press their lips together. The contact sent a tingle through his body that made him forget all about the pinpricks in his feet, and after letting it linger for a moment Ignis pulled back, his breath rolling against Owens lips in passing. "If not, I'm sure we could find some way to occupy ourselves." The offer made Owen smile, and as he gave him one more quick peck he took a step backwards, letting Ignis turn around. "I'm sure we could."

The two of them were fast asleep within minutes of wrapping their arms around one another.

[hereissomething]

i made a magic potion that helps me sleep at night and dream about old man balls🥴

[notastraykid]

When people write a character with insomnia, they always do it as a person who is tossing and turning, getting upset as they're so tired but it's not really like that - in my life and experience, anyway...

For me it's just lying there, wide awake. Not even trying to sleep because you know it's not going to happen. There is no tossing and turning because what's the point. Literally there is no sleepiness, no drowsiness. Just. Awake. As if it was the middle of the day. Laying there, warm and cozy, resigned to the fact you'll hear the birds start to sing soon (or in my life it's seagulls. I don't class them as birds as they don't sing. They're just loud rats with wings who scream and steal food off you when you go to take a bite. But that's another story.)

You'll hear your neighbours start to move around and cars pass the house. People will do an early dog walk, maybe, or gross as it sounds, go for a jog.

You're still on yesterday but they've time travelled through their sleep to the next day.

I guess it's more like an internal defeat. It's not going to happen. You know it. Your body knows. You're just going to lay there and accept it until it's time to get up.

Yeah you could get up and do something "productive" when you check and see it's stupid o'clock in the morning, but you won't. Why won't you? Because there is one small, minute, itty bitty piece of hope that you could fall asleep. What if you get out of bed and that moment passes your bed and you're not there? That was your chance?! No. You'll stay in the warmth, with the disappointment of what could have been dancing around your brain.

Then you have that lovely special moment when your alarm clock goes and the new days begins. Even better if it's now a Monday.

[whumpshots]

Whump Snippet Saturday #28

Whumpee looks up at the clear sky with tired eyes. Star gazing has become an involuntary hobby since the nightmares took over and disrupt their sleep every night. They just want to close their eyes and rest, nothing more and nothing less. Exhaustion makes it hard to make it through the day, mind racing, body begging to get some rest.

But apparently, this is too much to ask for. Everytime they try to sleep, they see the fucked up things that they have been through, altered and horrifying versions of it or just straight up things that don't make sense but still put them in a state of panic.

So star gazing it is ... left alone with their thoughts and the things that might be when they go to bed.

This night, however, is different. Caretaker sits down next to them on the porch, looking at the sky with a soft smile. "It's always so quiet out here." Whumpee just hums in response and keeps their eyes focused on the sky.

Having someone close by makes them feel less agitated, less jumpy and frightened. Caretaker scoots closer and their shoulders touch. Whumpee huffs and puts their head on caretaker's shoulder, looking up at the sky until their eyes close and they fall asleep.

The comfort and warmth stays the whole night, whumpee wakes up in their bed, caretaker next to them, arms wrapped around them to hold them close, keep them safe. The first time since what feels like an eternity, whumpee slept through the night without being woken up.

[batrogers]

Whumptober, Insomnia Linked Universe, Legend POV

Link was awake at dawn, and he hated it, but if Twilight kicked him in his sleep one more time, he was going to lose his temper. Since he had no wish to do that, he just got up instead. If he could wait a little longer, Twilight would be awake and he could curl up again and go back to sleep.

At the edge of camp, Time sat against the trunk of a tree, staring intently at a patch of darkness.

Link went up to his side and looked, but there was nothing there. He glanced back at Time, but the older man gave no sign he’d even noticed he had company: his stare went unchanged, blue eye wide and framed with heavy shadows on his skin visible even before dawn.

“Hey, Time?” Link tried.

Time blinked twice, his head jerking back. He turned to Link, then exhaled loudly and pressed a hand to his face. “Sorry. I was distracted.”

“What did you see?”

“The boy.”

Link looked at the darkness again, but there was still nothing there. “What boy?”

Time waved off the question. “He’s just watching.”

Hadn’t Wars said Time was up before him and Twilight both yesterday too? Link thought. It wasn’t even his turn on watch; Wars was on the opposite side of camp, watching the direction of the road. “Time, there’s nothing there.”

Time blinked slowly again and frowned, still intent on the darkness below. He pulled something from his bag, a patterned looking glass with an eye in the center, but didn’t even seem to use it. He sighed after turning it in his hands a few times and leaned his head back against the tree, one hand pinching his nose.

“I promise it’s fine, Legend.”

“That was your Lens of Truth, wasn’t it?” he asked. He itched to handle it himself, but Time was as cagey with his magic items as he was with his past. “What did you see?”

“The same thing,” Time sighed and rubbed his temples. “It only works on magic, not hallucinations.”

“Not....” Link closed his eyes and dug his fingers into his hair. “Time, how long has it been since you slept?”

“It’s fine.”

He could see the muscles tensing in Time’s jaw. His good eye tracked something moving in the darkness, where nothing was, and he narrowly suppressed a flinch. Link bit down on saying something sharp and blunt about Time refusing to look bad in front of the others and instead made himself ask.

“What’s stopping you?”

“Nothing,” Time insisted. His voice was half strangled and he closed his eye for several seconds. Link waited him out, and, as he’d feared, Time asked, “You don’t hear anything, do you?”

Link didn’t answer right away; he ran through the last few days in his mind, trying to pin point what was going wrong. Time hadn’t slept this night, or the night before if he was this bad (Link remembered learning that lesson painfully himself after Koholint, in the first few days recovering when he feared if he slept he’d fall back into the water or, worse, the island he’d left behind.)

So the day before that, or...

Bokoblins with fire arrows, he thought, and Time’s sleeve had caught.

“Is the burn still bugging you?” he asked. They’d been short healing potions that day, and the injury had been bad but not deep. There’d been enough time to make more, but nobody had thought much of the injuries passed over that first day.

Time opened his eye again and stared straight ahead without comment. Link exhaled hard through his nose and dug out a bottle without another word. He shoved it into Time’s hand.

Sleep deprived as he was, Time took several long seconds to notice and register what he was now holding. “...Its healing fine,” he said, and tried to give it back.

“Sure,” Link agreed. “And it probably itches like a bitch and its keeping you up.” It most certainly wasn’t the only thing keeping him up, but if Time wasn’t going to talk he wasn’t going to talk. “You’re going to drink that and drink some of Sky’s tea I’ve got on me, and go the fuck to sleep before I go tell Twilight you haven’t slept in, what is it now? Three days?”

Time winced hard at the thought, as Link had suspected, but he gave in and drank the potion, standing with visible effort from the base of the tree. Link bit back the urge to tease him more: if he was cooperating, he didn’t need more of a push.

“Fine,” Time agreed. “I’ll go. Happy?”

Link beamed at him with every ounce of sarcasm he had restrained before. “As a clam.”

[gotyouanyway]

started writing got distracted. was kinda onto something though 👀

[unclekaz]

talking to one of my friends and i mentioned off the cuff that id like to eventually think about nolan after twenty years. like him being 48-ish and just as miserable but now he has the wisdom to be just as idiotic as he is when he's 27

unfortunately their immediate reaction was 'i have to draw him.' and now i have a middle-aged man saved to my phone and i can't do fuckin anything with it yet

so check it man. i understand the vision that they had to express through artwork honestly