#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.”  

[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.

[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.

[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.

[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.

[riptidesiren]

SHE

I'm running on 4 hours of sleep and a dream—yet somehow now my mind decided to be inspired and actually write something...

Fortunately a fried brain, means fried anxiety so I'll just post it while I can lol

~550 word Drabble inspired by the vibe of 'Need to Change' - Landon Tewers. And of course Caleb brain rot took charge over it lol. Any and all typos etc. may be kept as a souvenir. Might cross post to AO3 if/when I have space of mind. AO3

No smut. No fluff. Just vibe.

She

The doors opened to admit the newest patron. Only a few heads, bend in conversation or enraptured in a display, turned to offer a perfunctory glance in the general direction. All swivelled right back once their minds processed the information. The newest patron descended the few steps to glide across the floor sending cool eyes across the low lighted vault. Her shoes, high as they were, made no sound on the marble and yet more heads were drawn in by an unexplainable force. She was new. Fresh meat. That alone garnered interest. The esteemed guests of the establishment would have left it at that, had they been able to avert their eyes once more. No one approached her. Only watched as graceful steps brought her to the bar and a low voice ordered. She turned and faced the room causing unabashed stares to flit away and occupy themselves with their abandoned entertainment once more. Her gaze swept the room and turned with her fluid movement to accept her drink. Someone had moved. Broken the shared transfixion of this new arrival. A collective breath was begun to be held when the man approached her. Tranquil eyes looked up through lashes, indicating no other acknowledgement of the person before her. She fixed him to the spot as he lost his suave approach, reduced to stumbling sentences. Without answering she began floating away from him. He held no appreciation for this behaviour. His attempt to grab her was fumbled as she smoothly turned from his reach and in one motion had his hand bend in pain. The quiet room watched as she punished him in silence and slunk away. Leaving him at the mercy of piercing eyes from all directions. While the patrons had begun to settle and compose themselves, their eyes could not help dart over to wherever she stood and beheld the displays the vaulted room had to offer. The way she carried herself across the floor held none of the indication of the collar she wore and the mark it bore. Daring patrons lost their composure as they neared her and ended up veering off course. Separated by an invisible boundary she appeared as a curiosity that did not allow to be dismissed. One more had succeeded to enter her periphery and been granted a glance over from those captivating eyes before they returned to the contortionist currently bending herself backward on the platform. Dismissed. He had been watching the singularity slink around the patrons and platforms' various displays. Her arrival had set the imperative for tension. It fed the patrons' desires. Turning their leisure appetites into aching obsessions. Compelling them to seek their deliverance in the establishments beverages and distractions. Striving to obtain a substitution for that which they unconsciously knew they could not have. The girl on his lap eagerly took his empty tumbler. When had she been sat on the floor and the armchair abandoned? The girl watched his broad shoulders cut through the patrons as his long legs carried him to his destination. A shiver ran up the newest patron's spine when his fingers skimmed along her exposed back to announce his presence. Her eyes fluttered close, relishing the contact. The floor was watching them enraptured. She turned her head and bestowed a bewitchingly serene smile upon him as she gazed into amethyst eyes.

[foundedroses]

This isn't really a fanfic idea, but if you do headcanons, can i req some NSFW headcanons for Shuu Tsukiyama from tokyo ghoul? 🤯

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ NSFW headcanons: Shuu Tsukiyama !

a/n: Hi anon! thank u sm for the req! in fact i do write hcs for characters and tsukiyama is actually one of my fav tg characters, so i obviously couldnt knock this req back! i wrote this at exactly 1:02am on the night b4 my bday, so sorry I cut it short, I was literally falling asleep while typing, welp, hope its what you asked for!

CW: smut warning

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₊ ⊹ Alright, starting off easy, Tsukiyama is gentle. He prefers romantic and slow sex over rough and fast sex. He would prefer to savour and cherish the moment rather than get it over quickly.

₊ ⊹ He is a sucker for neck and throat kisses.

₊ ⊹ Kinda in conjunction with the last headcanon, but I think he’s some sensitive area is his neck.

₊ ⊹ Absolutely loves when his s/o leaves hickies along his neck, probably into light biting as well because…well, he wants nothing more than to taste his s/o.

₊ ⊹ Not quiet at all. Very dramatic and likes to emphasise his moans. On everyone and their uncles, he definitely spews a series of French words when he orgasms.

₊ ⊹ Possibly into some light bondage, nothing too extreme. Just the usual blindfolds and handcuffs. Nothing to extra, yk?

₊ ⊹ Loves lace, especially white lace. Thinks it’s so elegant, loves it when his s/o wears anything lace in the bedroom.

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[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.

[hereissomething]

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

[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.

[gotyouanyway]

started writing got distracted. was kinda onto something though 👀

[springtrapsspringlockedbussy]

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

[dangerous-advantage]

If you want, a disaster twins hurt/comfort drabble? Maybe even cuddles? You don't have to if you don't want to.

(cws: heights/references to falling from heights, discussion of canon-typical trauma, cursing)

Lightning flashed through the cover of clouds, exposing their rain-swollen underbellies. Leo counted the seconds between the latest strike and its corresponding rumble of thunder.

One, two, three...

He kicked his legs to the rhythm of his thoughts, concrete bruising his heels. The sting was grounding. Up here, above the city lights and conversation, Leo could use all the grounding he could get.

A fat droplet of rain smacked wetly on his arm. He looked up, just as the sky growled warning and unleashed it's downpour.

Leo closed his eyes and pretended not to breathe.

The rain had been worse this year. The last three days had seen scattered showers and an endless, overcast sky.

Leo liked the rain. God knows the city needed it. It made him feel cleaner than he had in a long time. Like New York was finally washing its hands of the events earlier that summer.

If he let himself, he could almost pretend everything was back to normal. That it had never been un-normal.

But the rain also brought new and unfortunate side effects. His time in the prison dimension left him scarred. Several months removed, he was still recovering.

The rain ignited his deepest aches. He'd lay in bed, clenching his jaw to stifle his whines of pain as the muscles in his legs cramped and spasmed. His shell ached, too, the cracks in his carapace lit up like a live wire. He'd popped three ibuprofen the day before, but this time, it didn't save him.

He'd hoped fresh air would do him some good, but his thoughts were as raw as ever.

If he had the energy for it, or maybe someone to tell, Leo would've joked about it. But his dramatics were never entertaining in his own head, and they weren't meant for him, anyway.

He tipped his head down and sighed out a breath. Cold rivulets cascaded down his face, tracing his jawline. They fell to his lap in scattered droplets, refracting the city lights as they rebounded.

He was starting to get a bit too cold for comfort. They weren't fully cold-blooded, seeing as they were part human, but they were still susceptible to temperature changes, especially Leo.

He didn't want to deal with a cold on top of everything else.

Leo gathered himself, shifting into a crouch. His body protested as he came to a standing position, retrieving his katanas from where he'd set them.

His bandana was soaked, say nothing of his bandages. He'd need to change them before his brothers awoke. He'd better dry off his katanas, too-- he didn't know if mystic weapons could rust, but he'd rather not find out.

Retreating away from the edge of the roof, Leo could feel his heartbeat start to settle. Heights didn't bother him, exactly. It was more about potential. Sitting on a precipice, seconds away from what could be your last breath.

It was the ultimate test of arrogance. Would you really test your luck, lean over the edge to catch a glimpse of what lay below? Just a cursory misstep and you would be sent plummeting, with only moments to contemplate before you were crushed against concrete.

Adrenaline was an effective tool for alleviating the worst of the pain. It probably wasn't a healthy practice, but what worked, worked.

Summoning his ninpō, Leo slashed a katana through the air, flinging rainwater with the sweep of his blade. The air rippled, a pool of blue reflecting in the puddle beneath him.

With barely so much as a thought to serve as a directive, the connection stabilized, pulling at his gut. Leo stepped through, shutting the gate behind him.

He emerged in their bathroom, water dripping off his disheveled form to the floor. Glancing up at the clock, he frowned. Had it really been three hours?

Leo set his katanas on the counter and foraged through the cabinet for a towel. He discarded the first two he grabbed on account of their worn texture, tossing them to the ground behind him.

His fingers closed around plush, white material, and Leo pulled out a newer-looking towel. It would do nicely.

He set to work drying his katanas with fastidious motions, guiding the towel into the crevasses where excess rainwater might accumulate. He dried his first katana once, and then a second time, before doing the same to the other.

When he was satisfied, he turned back to the cabinet and rifled through it, looking for a first aid kit. He'd had Casey restock recently, given how much of their supply had been damaged in the Kraang invasion. He didn't remember if anyone had put them away-- they might still be on the kitchen counter, for all he knew.

Leo gave up, nudging the cabinet shut, and carried his katanas to his room. His body was really starting to hurt again. He perched on the edge of his bed, tensing the muscles in his body.

He let his eyes flutter shut. His body felt washed out and faded like an old t-shirt, washed one too many times. Maybe he should just try and rest while he could, before the pain returned in full.

But the medic in him eschewed the idea. Not to mention, his brothers would kill him if he risked infection by something so careless.

Heaving a sigh, Leo abandoned his bedroom, making his way to the train car that housed their kitchen. To his surprise (and wariness), the lights were on, curtains drawn.

Had Mikey forgotten to turn off the light? That wasn't like him.

(Which meant he probably hadn't.)

Leo procrastinated by the entrance, killing time locked in an internal dialogue. Somebody else was up, or had been. Most likely scenario, it was Casey, being a light sleeper.

He was also the only person that knew about Leo's midnight escapades. He'd confessed that knowing Leo was gone set him on edge. Often, Leo would return to find him sitting in his room, eyes on a distant memory.

Shaking off his indecision, Leo pulled himself up into the car, grimacing at the jolt of pain that ran up his shell. He stepped inside and froze, stomach dropping to his knees.

Donnie sat on a stool at the counter, thumbs flicking over his phone screen. An empty bowl and spoon sat in front of him on the otherwise clean surface, evidence of a midnight meal. There was a cutting board in the sink and a stockpot on the cooktop.

Donnie looked up from his phone, eyebrows slightly smudged. They knit together in confusion as he took in Leo's waterlogged state.

Leo shifted his weight. "I didn't know you were up."

Donnie raised an eyebrow. "Went for a midnight swim?" he deadpanned.

Leo moved past him, toward the opposite counter. "Something like that," he mumbled. He withdrew one of the first aid kits from a plastic grocery bag stowed on top of the fridge.

His thigh dissented, muscles contracting, and he gasped. He bent over, resting his forehead on the fridge, eyes squeezed shut.

A stool creaked, sliding back. "Leo?"

Leo gritted his teeth. A bead of water slid down his face and fell from his chin like a teardrop.

"Just sore," he groaned. "I'm fine."

He could feel Donnie's presence as he approached. He stopped a few feet behind where Leo was standing, back bowed.

"You don't look fine," he pointed out.

Leo hadn't "looked fine" since the prison dimension. He choked on a laugh at the thought, unable to smother it. He couldn't see Donnie's face, but he could imagine the expression it displayed with ease.

The tension between them grew. When was the last time Leo had talked one-on-one with his twin? He didn't remember it ever being this awkward.

The cramp in his leg let up a little. Leo gingerly placed it on the ground, testing his weight. The sooner he could get out of this situation, the better.

"I should go," Leo said finally, straightening. He turned. Donnie's arms were crossed over his plastron, examining him with narrowed eyes. Leo stepped around him, gaze avoidant.

He got halfway across the kitchen before Donnie spoke.

"How long were you out?" Donnie asked. "Your bandages are soaked."

Leo recognized the trap laid out in his brothers' casual demeanor.

"Not long," he replied, matching Donnie's tone. "Just needed some air."

"Hm, is that so? Because I've been up since midnight, and it's now--" He checked his com band. "--two thirteen, so unless you magically gained the ability to be quiet, I'm not sure your story holds water."

Leo resisted the urge to make a pun. "Hey, I can be quiet!" he protested.

His brothers (somehow) hadn't realized just how accurate Leo's ninpō had gotten in the previous months. He would prefer it stayed that way. (Raph definitely wouldn't be too happy to find out how much time Leo spent overlooking foreign cityscapes instead of sleeping.)

"Don't change the subject, Leo, I know what you're doing." Donnie placed his hands on his hips. (Did mutant turtles have hips?)

Leo held his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. Fine." Prime example of a battle he refused to pick. "I lost track of time, sue me."

Donnie blew out a breath, and Leo knew they were entering safer waters. Works every time, he thought.

"Just tell me you didn't go far?" Donnie asked wearily. "Raph would freak."

"I didn't," Leo assured him. It wasn't a lie-- compared to his usual destinations, his trip to downtown New York was a novelty. "You aren't going to tell him, are you?"

Donnie hesitated. Leo's expression grew shuttered.

"No," he sighed. "Just-- next time you go out, could you at least leave a note or something? That way, if you get kidnapped by pirates again, we'll know where to look?"

"That was one time," Leo argued. Donnie sent him The Look™. "...Okay, two times, but can you really blame me?"

"Yes." Donnie stated the word without hesitation.

Leo hid a smile. It was easy, falling back into their familiar banter. He had missed this.

His legs gave a throb of pain and he winced. "I should go," he said reluctantly.

Donnie blinked, caught off guard. His gaze took on a hint of concern. "Oh. Uh. Right." He shifted uncomfortably. "Here. Do you... I can carry that for you." He gestured at the first aid kit.

Leo wanted to refuse, but he'd officially run out of luck. At that moment, his legs gave out beneath him. He crumpled, carapace smarting at the sudden movement.

"Leo!" Donnie knelt next to him, eyes dark with worry. "Are you okay? What's happening?"

"It's nothing, I'm fine," he groaned out. His leg gave a traitorous pulse, and he yelped.

Donnie stood. "I'm getting Raph," he decided.

"No!" Leo cried. "Honestly, Tello, I'm fine."

"Is that why you're laying on the kitchen floor?"

Leo swatted weakly at Donnie's calf. "No," he groaned. "It's just... the rain. Makes all my scars ache, and stuff."

"Oh," Donnie said. He returned to a kneel. "I... didn't think of that."

"'S fine," Leo grumbled. "Just need to re-wrap my bandages." Something he was not looking forward to.

His muscles slowly untensed, leaving a dull ache of pain in their wake. He let out a miserable sigh, closing his eyes.

In a moment, he'd need to get up and make his way to the bathroom. Though, he could probably get away with a few more minutes on the floor. Donnie had seen him through worse.

To his surprise, he could feel an arm slipping under his shoulders, helping him up. He cracked open an eye to see Donnie on his left side, bracing his arm on the wall as he helped pull Leo to his feet.

"Okay, come on," he groaned. "Let's get you to the bathroom before you forget how to walk again."

"Ugh, rude," Leo said, accepting his support. "You'd say that to an injured man? I'm on the cusp of death here, Dee."

"I'd say that to a dead man."

"What, was that a threat?"

"No, but it can be."

Leo snorted, then winced as they made their way down the steps. Donnie was careful, but not smothering, letting Leo lead. They limped their way to the bathroom, where Donnie set him down on a stool, flicking on the light.

"Thanks for leaving fucking puddles everywhere," Donnie said, lifting up his foot and shaking it. "Did you really not dry yourself off at all?"

"I dried my off my katanas," Leo defended. Donnie rolled his eyes and mumbled something beneath his breath. He turned and began rifling through the cabinet for a towel.

"Just use one off the floor," Leo said, kicking at the towels he'd discarded earlier.

"Those ones are shit," Donnie said, emerging triumphant with a fluffy, dark purple towel he must have hidden somewhere in the back. "Do you really want a sad, dirty floor rag? Not that it wouldn't fit you, but..."

Leo snorted, hiding a grin in the back of his hand. Donnie leaned over and swaddled him in the towel, wiping off his plastron with quick motions.

"What are you, some kind of towel elitist?" He leaned away, grabbing the towel for himself and pulling over his carapace. "smh, can't believe you were holding out on me." He rubbed his hand over the plush fabric. "I might be stealing this."

"Did you just say 'smh' out loud?" Donnie asked. "And absolutely not, I will destroy you."

"Then you gotta tell me who your dealer is, at least." Leo buried his face in the cushy material. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled. "This is exactly the kind of wasteful bullshit I need in my life."

"Frivolous luxury would suit you," Donnie mused.

Leo simpered up at him. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Do you even know what that word means? And don't fucking simper at me."

Leo simpered even harder.

Donnie grabbed one of the towels from the floor and threw it at him. Leo raised his hands with a laugh, shielding his face.

Donnie snatched his purple towel back. "Shh! You're gonna wake the others."

"I'm not the one who decided to commit a hate crime." Leo took off his mask and placed it on the sink.

"I threw a towel at you," Donnie deadpanned. "How is that a hate crime?"

"Because you were being mean to me." Leo wore his best pout.

"That's not a hate crime."

"It is if you hate me."

"I don't think you know what that word means, either." Donnie opened the first aid kit, setting it on the sink. "Okay, sit tight."

Leo stuck his tongue out, but kept quiet as Donnie leaned over him, inspecting his bandages. Neither of them spoke as Donnie took one in hand and carefully began to peel it off. He grimaced as it exposed the puckered scar beneath, gently dabbing it with a clean pad of gauze.

Leo didn't bother to wince at the soft prick of pain. It was so minuscule compared to everything else he'd gone through.

The thought was a depressing one, draining the small amount of humor he'd managed to recover out of his chest. He slumped a little, studying the floor.

Donnie seemed to notice the change. He paused for a minute, thinking. Leo could nearly hear the gears in his brain turning as he puzzled out what to say.

"...I hope the rain stops soon," he finally settled on, cautious.

"Yeah," Leo sighed. He glanced at the wall, his jaw working. "I used to like the rain."

"Yeah? Oh, that's right," Donnie remembered. "You would always beg papa to take you up to the surface when it rained. And then Raph."

Leo nodded mutely, turning his thoughts over in his head.

"Its... I just..." Leo glared at the wall. "It makes me angry."

Donnie replaced one of his bandages with a new one and started re-wrapping his shoulder. "The rain?"

A sudden wave of emotion rose in him, and Leo's hands clenched. "No. The Kraang. That they-- that they took that from me." He glared at the floor willing his mouth to not wobble. Damn it.

Donnie didn't speak, but he rested his free hand on Leo's shoulder.

"It's just-- it's so stupid." Leo tried for a bitter laugh, but it came out wetter than he'd intended. He sniffed, trying to get a hold of himself.

"It's just fucking rain. But it's like-- every time it rains, I'm not gonna be thinking about how much I like it, or drag you guys out to stand in it. 'Cuz all I'm gonna be thinking about it the stupid fucking Kraang."

Donnie had gone still, but his hand remained on Leo's shoulder, a silent show of support.

Leo swiped a hand over his face. "And it's stupid, because-- we got rid of them! The Kraang are supposed to be gone, or whatever." His voice broke on the word 'gone,' but he persisted.

"But they're still here. Everywhere I go in the city, I'm reminded of them. They're like... a shadow, or something, looming over me. All the things I like, they've infected." He barked out a wet laugh.

"I mean, did you know the reason I gifted all my Jupiter Jim comics to Mikey is that I can't read them without thinking about the Kraang? And it's-- so stupid because I love Jupiter Jim. But now I can't even watch our favorite movies, because every time it feels like a punch to the throat!"

Leo was about to cry, something he really didn't want to do right now. He took a tremulous breath. "I mean-- isn't that stupid? I know it's stupid." He let out a shaky laugh.

"...I don't think it's stupid," Donnie offered quietly. He returned to his previous task of changing Leo's bandages. "I think it makes perfect logical sense. We went through something traumatic. Of course it's going to affect us negatively."

Leo laughed, sharp and bitter. "Yeah." He glared at the floor.

It was quiet for a long moment.

"I get it."

Leo looked up, confused. "What?"

Donnie worried at the edge of his mouth, intent on his task. "Do you remember when I took control of the Technodrome?"

Leo swiped a hand across his face. Guilt twinged in his abdomen. "Mhm."

"In order to create a connection, it had to--" Donnie cut himself off. "Um. It had to. Physically connect to me."

Leo froze. "Like... how?"

Donnie tapped a repeating pattern on the edge of his shell, before reaching for the medical tape. "It was... through my shell."

"Oh." Leo said. Then, "Oh."

"Yeah," Donnie sighed.

Leo scuffed his feet on the floor. "Shit, Dee, I'm s--"

Donnie flicked him firmly on the forehead. "Don't."

"Hey!" Leo cried, rubbing at the spot.

"If you're gonna apologize, apologize for something that was actually your fault." The words were spoken with the tone of one who is used to speaking them. "And anyway, it was my choice."

"You wouldn't have needed to choose it if--"

"Nardo, oh my god, I will smack you." Donnie pulled back. "I am trying to empathize with you here, why are you making this so hard?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Leo mumbled.

Donnie sighed. "It's-- well, it's not fine, but. It's a topic for another time."

Leo nodded.

"As I was saying," Donnie continued, "It was not the most pleasant experience, going into it. And-- well, I didn't particularly enjoy the hasty removal, either.

"But... I didn't mind it, being in there. It's just... it made me realize how much I'm missing. How weak I am, with my shell." Donnie rubbed an absentminded hand over the strap of his battle shell. "Sometimes I'll wake up, and I'll..." His voice dipped into a whisper. "I'll miss it."

He paused as if waiting for Leo to react. Perhaps with disgust, or anger. Leo did neither, covering Donnie's hand on his shell with his own.

"I know it's not a perfect correlation, but. It makes me... feel. Emotions. Things I don't like." Donnie rummaged around in the kit for another piece of gauze. "And I just. It's. Ugh."

"'Ugh.'" Leo agreed. "That's a pretty good word for it."

Donnie scowled at him.

"I'm being serious!"

"Ok, enough being nice to you," Donnie announced. "I'm leaving. Suffer."

"But Dee," Leo whined, dragging out the 'e'. "You didn't finish wrapping my shell."

"Urgh, fine." Donnie rolled his eyes. Leo resisted a smile, secure in the knowledge that he wouldn't have actually left.

They lapsed into silence again. Far above, Leo could hear the rain slowing, the downpour giving way.

Donnie finished wrapping his shell. He pulled back, considering. There was an edge of hesitation to his expression. Leo knew that look.

“What’re you—”

Donnie leaned down and pulled him into a hug.

Leo tensed for a moment, caught off guard.

Donnie was very particular about touch. He didn’t like casual touch, unless he was the one to initiate it. That, plus with the invasion, had made him even touchier about it than usual. Well, less touchier.

When was the last time they’d just. Hung out? Slung an arm over the others’s shoulder?

Leo closed his eyes and let out a shuddery sigh. He melted into the embrace. God, he was tired.

Donnie pulled back. He placed a hand on the back of his neck, mouth hanging open as if he’d had something to say, but had forgotten it.

“You’re bandages are done,” he said finally.

Leo glanced down. “Oh. Thank you.”

Donnie nodded stiffly, and backed off. “We should turn the lights off before anybody else wakes up.”

Leo nodded in agreement. He was surprised Casey hadn’t woken yet. He made to stand, the full-body ache in his limbs intensifying. His feet landed in a puddle of water.

"Hold on, I have to clean the water off the floor," Leo said, reaching for a towel. Donnie intercepted him.

"I will clean it up," he contended. "It's time for you to get to bed."

"Don't act like your sleep schedule is any better than mine," Leo returned, but silently, he was grateful.

Donnie switched the lights off behind them and walked with Leo to his train car. It wasn't necessary by any means, but Leo didn't mind. The sick, weary feeling in his gut had been replaced by something warm and safe.

He paused at the steps to his train car, turning back. "I think I can go to bed by myself," he joked.

"After tonight, I truly doubt that," Donnie said drily, but Leo could hear a hint of fatigue in his voice. No doubt he was bone-tired.

Leo shuffled his feet. "Um, sorry. I didn't mean to keep you up."

Donnie stared at him, letting the silence stagnate long enough for Leo to remember their earlier conversation.

"Please go to bed," he said finally, exasperated.

"If I must," Leo sighed, putting on an air of melodrama.

"You must," Donnie deadpanned. Leo stuck his tongue at him again.

With little fanfare, Donnie turned and began to walk away. Leo watched him go, mentally preparing himself for the strain of getting up the steps into his train car.

“Oh, hey, and Leo?” Donnie looked back.

Leo frowned in confusion. “What?”

Donnie smirked at him. “I changed my mind. I’m not cleaning the floor.”

Leo gasped, adopting a scandalized expression. “Liar! How could you?”

Donnie smiled evilly and disappeared up the steps into his train car.

Leo went to bed smiling.

In the morning, he checked the bathroom floor and found that it was clean.

[savage-rhi]

Magensia?

[niwatari-rei]

will you please do me the honor of writing....... insomnia's creator? :>

The man sighed, looking at the artwork. “Do you ever…It’s nothing.” Now what was it that his own creator was trying to ask of it? The look in his eyes seemed to be resigned to whatever he had decided on. “Do you mind telling me more about this world?” It asked, always curious about how things were on the other side. Perhaps it was its own imagination but there seemed to be a sad smile on the creator before it disappeared. “I suppose I can. It’s probably boring where you are, isn’t it?” He hummed in deep thought. It listened intently, dreaming of the day that it would one day walk amongst people.