#and I was an insomniac a few years ago

[dragonnnfly]

meme this screenshot?

At least one of us gets the Z’s

[devoutlywished]

[bridenore]

HD eight year fic recs : 30k to 50k words

Here are a few drarry eight year fic recs that are between 30k and 50k words. Posted in alphabetical order, as always.

You can access my rec lists for eight year fics that have less than 10k words here, between 10k and 20k here and between 20k and 30k here.

All Things Go by iota /@sorrybutblog​ [32k]

Draco’s back at Hogwarts by court order. Harry’s back for no particular reason at all. Some things change, some stay the same. Neither expects to spend eighth-year living in close quarters, playing rugby (poorly), staying up late, sneaking around, and finally figuring it all out.

Annus Mirabilis by Ren [39k]

Harry and Malfoy are trapped at Hogwarts around the time the school was founded. Stuck with a different way of doing magic, with no chocolate, and with each other, they have to find a way to work together if they want a chance to go home.

Beneath the Cloak by @avenueofesc [31k]

Footsteps echo through the corridor, though they seem to hesitate, slowing until they stop directly in front of him. Draco can practically feel the presence of this other at his side. He groans, using all of his strength to raise his head and open his eyes, to see… Nothing.

Blue Roses and Other Impossible Things by Cassiara [40k]

After Harry saved Draco from the Room of Requirement there was a moment when Draco gave Harry a look. Harry didn’t know what to make of it, and he had a war to fight so he ignored it. Now though, they’re back at Hogwarts sharing a dorm and Harry is obsessed with seeing that look again.

Draco Malfoy, It’s Your Lucky Day by @faith2wood [37k]

Even though he’s unarmed, injured, lost in the Forbidden Forest, and facing a possible murder charge, Draco Malfoy gets lucky.

Falling for a Golden Boy by OTPshipper98 [44k]

Merlin. Why couldn’t Draco have moved to a forgotten village in the Alps? He could have turned into a shepherd, learned to make his own damn cheese and given up his damn magic. But no, he’d had to come back to his Eighth year, hadn’t he? And this was his life now. Draping himself over Potter to hear words from him that he knew Potter wouldn’t ever mean. Great. The school year ahead of him looked simply great. “All I know is—when I’m with you, I…” Potter, the heathen, grunted when he read the rest of his line. “Do I really need to say this?” “What, scared of believing your own words, Scarhead?” Draco spat. “Boys,” O’Neill warned them. “All I—all I know is you’re the most amazing person with weak ankles that I’ve ever met, Meg.” Potter scowled. He was blushing again. “And when I’m with you, I feel less alone.” Or where a drama play, a grumpy pompom and a bunch of well-intentioned friends help Draco and Harry find peace—and each other—after the war.

He Was He and I Was Bunny by bryoneybrynn [37k]

The war is over and “eighth year” is about to begin at Hogwarts. But for Harry and Draco, nothing is quite the same. Harry’s looking for an escape, Draco’s looking for a friend. Does a little black bunny hold the answers for both of our boys?

In Evidence of Magical Theory by @bixgirl1 [43k]

When a hex meant for Draco accidentally catches Harry as well, they’re forced to learn to understand each other in ways they previously might have thought impossible. In which Harry and Draco can’t fight, so they fall in love instead.

In Plain Sight by oldenuf2nb / @dianacopland [37k]

Draco Malfoy had stopped believing his wishes would be granted long ago. He could perhaps be forgiven for being startled, then, when one of them came true.

Like Lightning at Your Fingertips by potterwatch [43k]

The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re one, too. When Harry and Draco return for their eighth year, they think they’ll see very little of each other. Then McGonagall assigns them to room together. And the castle starts breaking. And there’s that thing with Potter’s magic.

Lumos by birdsofshore [41k]

Harry never expected to spend eighth year listening to Draco Malfoy wanking.

The Romantic Prawn Who Loved Christmas by @bixgirl1 [39k]

When Draco, forced into sharing a room with Potter for the year, finds out that Potter has a sleepwalking problem, he expects the odd conversations and the weird games of chess. What comes as a complete shock are Potter’s other activities…And why he seems so intent on having Draco join him. (Relax. It’s just like a holiday Hallmark movie! …With, uhm, sleepwanking.)

Sealed with a Kiss by @faith2wood [46k]

Harry Potter will fall in love with the first person who kisses him. Draco knows what he must do. A Christmassy Hogwarts fic, this.

The Standard You Walk Past by @bafflinghaze [46k]

On returning to Hogwarts for their Eighth Year, Headmistress McGonagall decided to room Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter together. She may have hoped for a leading example of house unity; the other students fully expected insults and fights. But nothing happened. That was, until Harry sleepwalked into Draco’s bed.

Unexpected Consequences by lauren3210 [39k]

Harry was going back to school. He was going to play Quidditch, sleep in  lessons, hang out with his friends, and generally just enjoy being a  kid for a change. And he was also going to do it while being bonded with  Malfoy, because apparently life was just going to continue  throwing curveballs at him. Harry didn’t know why he expected anything  different.

Verba Volant by shushu_yaoi_lj / @orange-peony​ [34k]

The first letter arrives after the Trials. Harry unfolds the parchment and his eyes open wide when he realises who it’s from. He soon finds himself waiting for those letters to arrive, staring at the window in search of Malfoy’s owl. He wants to know more.

When I Put My Eyes On You by Zzzara [31k]

When a hero defeats a villain, there’s supposed to be a happily-ever-after… but when did anything ever happen to Harry Potter the way it was supposed to? Having sacrificed himself to the greater good, Harry is left alone in the darkness, blindly groping for the shreds of the life he knew. When the enemies meet, how is the story supposed to go, once they learn there’s more to it than the eye can see? A story of pain, hope and things we discover, once we stop looking for them with our eyes.

A Wizard’s Guide to Co-Parenting with Your Ex-Arch Nemesis by thecouchsofa [38k]

Harry had expected a few things when returning for his Eighth Year. Rooming with Ron, a cheeky Firewhisky down at the pub, leaving his assignments to the last minute – those were all but certain to occur. His list of certainties definitely hadn’t included McGonagall’s shake-up of the curriculum, which tasked the Eighth Years with the responsibility of parenthood for three weeks. Caring for a baby Transfigured from a sack of flour would have been alright if: 1) Malfoy wasn’t Harry’s assigned partner, 2) Their baby’s one goal in life wasn’t to spite Harry, and 3) Malfoy wasn’t infuriatingly good at fake parenthood.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[raspberrybesitos]

birthday girl | frankie morales x plus size latina reader

Main masterlist

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~3.5k

Summary: It’s your birthday, and Frankie celebrates his favorite girl.

Warnings: established relationship, unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all!!!), oral (f receiving), fluff, pet names (princesa, bebita, querida, hermosa, baby, etc), Frankie being in love, slightest hint of insecure reader, reader is female, reader is plus sized, reader is Latina, but no mention of hair type/skin color/height, reader understands Spanish, NO USE OF Y/N, translations available at the end.

A/N: it’s my birthday meaning this is completely 100% self-indulgent lol no other reason behind this. i wrote it with me (a plus size latina) in mind, but i hope you can still find relatability in it! y’all know Frankie is one of my favorite P boys, and i’ve been thinking about him a lot lately. shoutout to @mandoisapunk for hyping me up to post this one ilysm <333 anyway, happy frankie friday!! i hope y’all enjoy!! i’m off to pamper myself, then get plastered at the club 🪩💃 this was written very quickly. not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Daylight peeks through the blinds, bleeding through the curtains. A gloomy morning, typical around this time of year. Stirring in the sheets, you feel around for your boyfriend. Instead, you’re met with cold sheets on his unmade side of the bed.

He must’ve been up a while ago.

You swipe your phone from your nightstand, catching a glimpse at the time while unlocking it.

10am. He’s definitely been up for a while.

Frankie is an early riser, waking with the sun. While you prefer to sleep in as much as you can, being a night owl and borderline insomniac.

Rubbing your eyes, you scroll and respond to the birthday texts you received throughout your sleep. A few missed calls, you make note to call them back later.

Sitting up, you stretch and let out a yawn. The urge to crawl back under the covers grows strong as the chilly air hits your skin. Just as you’re about to get out of bed, you hear those unmistakable footsteps.

The door gently swings open, there stands your Frankie - beaming with a tray in hand.

“Happy birthday, hermosa,” he says through his dopey grin as he walks towards the bed, balancing your breakfast. You let out a soft hum, touched by the sweet gesture.

“Babyyy, you didn’t.”

“But I did. And I don’t want to hear any complaints, it’s your day, let me spoil you.”

“But you always sp-,”

“Ah ah! Let me spoil you, bebita. It’s what you deserve. I even made your favorite,” he says, setting the tray down in front of you. A tiny gasp bubbles over your lips.

“Frankieeee,” you whine, bottom lip jutted out as tears well in your eyes.

It’s a simple meal, nothing extravagant, but not one you make too often with how time consuming it can be. Your favorite childhood breakfast - chorizo con huevo y frijoles and homemade tortillas - one your abuelita would cook on the mornings you went to her house as a little girl.

You’d told him about it one morning when he found you downstairs making tortillas from scratch to go with breakfast. A labor of love from both of you, as you taught him the same way your abuelita had shown you - a way to honor her legacy.

He remembered.

“You remembered,” you whisper, voice wobbly as you’re overwhelmed with the simple, sweet gesture. Glossy eyes meeting his soft gaze.

“Of course, baby. I remember everything you tell me,” he says, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your head.

“How did you make the tortillas?” you ask.

He chuckles, sitting down beside you.

“I told you, I remember everything you tell me,” he says while fishing out a crumpled up index card and placing it in your hands. It’s got all your abuelita’s instructions, measurements, and ingredients scribbled on it in his chicken scratch.

He’d written everything down.

“Wrote it all down after that morning. It took some trial and error, and they’re nowhere near as perfect as yours and your abuelita’s, but…”

“I- Frankie…” you sigh, tears pricking your eyes as you’re nearly rendered speechless. Cupping his face softly in one hand.

“This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you,” you sniff, a stray tear cascading down your cheek as you smile at him through watery eyes.

He swipes his thumb on your cheek, wiping away your tear.

“Of course, baby.”

You capture his lips in a languid, sweet kiss. Sighing into each other as you wrap a hand around his neck, carding your fingers through his hair. Frankie cupping the back of your head, deepening the kiss.

Parting for air, he rests his forehead against yours - toothy grins adorning your faces.

“Come on, princesa. Eat before it gets cold.”

The two of you share breakfast in bed before getting ready for the day.

Frankie spends the rest of the day spoiling you - taking you to a surprise nail appointment he’d booked. He’d headed home unbeknownst to you, setting up something else.

He picked you up, and the two of you landed in Barnes & Noble. Letting you go rampant, Frankie bought every book you wanted. He’d tucked them away safely in his trunk, reminding himself to take them out in the morning. You’d both decided to grab some dinner before heading out to the bars with some friends.

The bars are loud, particularly this karaoke bar. Although he despises karaoke, his love for you trumps his disdain. Seeing you sing your heart out on stage with your friends - the people who always show up for you - makes his heart swell. Your happiness is his.

Frankie nurses a glass of whiskey the entire night, allowing you to have your fun with everyone. He can sense your exhaustion, your telltale yawn is his silent cue that it’s time to call it a night.

Bidding everyone good night, you and Frankie walk hand-in-hand to his truck. Heading home after a day well spent. Giddiness radiating from both of you on the drive home, excited to finally have some privacy.

You two could barely keep your hands off each other the second you stepped out of the truck. Both of you stumble into the house, giggling through the tender kisses. Frankie tosses the truck keys onto the table in the foyer and flicks on the lamp before cupping your face again. Both of you refuse to part for air as he attempts to stealthily guide you into the living room.

Something brushes against your head, making you break away and whip your head around. A soft gasp is punched from your lungs, your eyes glimmering at the sight in front of you.

Balloons hang throughout the living room leading into the kitchen as a bouquet of flowers sits on the coffee table. Frankie grabs your hand, pulling you out of your trance, weaving through the trail of balloons as he leads you into the kitchen. Tears well in your eyes at the gesture. A small cake in your favorite color sits on the table, next to a card and another vase of flowers - tulips specifically, your favorite flowers.

He fishes for a lighter in his pocket, showing you how prepared he was for this moment. Lighting the candles, he pulls you into his embrace, your back flushed against his chest.

“Surprise, princesa,” he whispers. A watery chuckle bubbles from within your chest, sniffling while he softly sings his own rendition of ‘happy birthday’ in your ear as he sways you side to side. The glow from the candles illuminating the blinding smile on your face.

“Make a wish, birthday girl,” he whispers, placing a tender kiss to the shell of your ear.

You close your eyes, wishing for this love, this life with him for eternity. Leaning forward slightly, you blow out the candles before falling back into Frankie’s arms. He gives you a gentle squeeze before turning you around to face him.

Gently kissing you, you yelp in surprise when he swipes frosting on your nose.

“Couldn’t resist, sorry, bebita. Que le muerda,” he says with a wink. Playfully scolding him, you reach behind you to scoop frosting on your fingers and smear it on his cheek.

Frankie smirks, “Oh you think that’s funny?” You nod, snickering as you lick your fingers. He reaches for the cake, gathering more frosting on his fingers. Smearing it all along your lips and chin, you burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Normally, you hate the tradition of taking a bite of the cake - it usually leads to having your whole face smashed into it, makeup ruined. But with Frankie, it’s not done with malice, not done to embarass you. It’s playful, fun - like the life you’ve built with each other.

Before you can retaliate, Frankie swoops in and slots your lips together. The sugar from the frosting combined with the glass of whiskey he had at the bar makes for a full-bodied kiss. Giggling like a pair of school kids, you and Frankie clean each other up with some paper towels.

"You missed a spot, bebita," he says, gesturing to the bottom of your lip.

"Oh!" You swipe your lip. "Did I get it?"

He grins. "Almost. Let me help you, hermosa," he says before crashing his lips onto yours.

Shared laughter resumes as he guides you into the living room, never letting your lips part. He accidentally bumps into the coffee table as he moves onto the couch. He smiles into the kiss as you laugh at his clumsiness. He plops down, grabbing your hips and tugging you onto his lap.

His large, rough hands squeezing your plush thighs before giving your ass a firm squeeze. Eliciting a surprised hum from you, you part from him with heavy eyes and a dopey smile. Frankie mirroring your expression.

“You have a good day today, baby?” He asks softly, timidly awaiting your answer.

You fervently nod. “The best. Thank you so much, baby - for this, for everything.” You say, gesturing to his hard work.

“Of course, bebita. Least I could do,” he rasps against your skin, littering kisses along your neck. A content sigh leaves your lips, basking in the love he showers you in daily.

“Baby?”

He hums in response.

“When did you find the time to even do all this?” You ask, carding your fingers through his hair as you straddle him, his lips still connected to your throat. He lifts his head, locking eyes with you.

“Did it all this afternoon while you got your nails done. I bought all the balloons and blew ‘em up on my lunch break yesterday and just kept ‘em all at work. The flowers, I went right after I dropped you off at your appointment to get them before I went to pick up the balloons and your cake from my fridge at work. Knew I could surprise you one day,” he explains with a wink.

You feel your heart grow 10 sizes bigger, a swarm of butterflies flutter throughout your tummy.

He’d done all this for you.

Tears sting your eyes again, a soft smile on your face - one only reserved for him.

“Frankie,” you whine in protest, your gaze shifting to the side as guilt floods you.

As if he can read your mind, Frankie grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Uh uh. I don’t want to hear it. I wanted to do this for you. It’s your special day. Now I know this day isn’t the easiest for you, but I want to make it easy. I want to make everyday easy, the same way you make loving easy. You deserve the whole world and more. And I’ll work everyday to give it to you. Let me celebrate my favorite day, my perfect girl. Because on this day those years ago, the world got brighter. And 2 years ago, my world did too.”

Overwhelmed by his devotion, you shamelessly let your tears fall. Love seeping from your eyes and onto your cheeks, Frankie draws you in gently. Kissing you with such tenderness, cradling your face as if you were the most delicate diamond in the universe, your cheeks wetting his. He pulls back, swiping those tears, mirroring each other's small smiles.

“I love you, bebita,” he says, his voice hushed and husky.

“I love you too, Frankie. Thank you for today, for all of this, baby. This was the best birthday I’ve ever had, all thanks to you. You always make me feel so loved, and I hope you know just how much I love you. Eres el amor de mi vida,” you choke out.

“Of course, baby. I’d do anything and everything for you, princesa. Loving you is the easiest thing in the world. I do know how much you love me, you show me everyday, bebita. I’ve got you, baby. Always. Eres mi amor, mi luz, mi vida, mi luna y todas mis estrellas. Eres mi todo. Te amo mucho, con todo mi corazón, bebita,” he whispers against your lips.

Melding your lips together, your combined hums ring in the air as you vehemently consume one another.

He shifts his grip to your thighs, tightening his hold on you as he rises to his feet.

“Frankie, stop! I’m too heavy, you’re gonna hurt your back!” You yelp as he carries you up the stairs, the whispers of insecurity creep into your head.

“Hush, bebita. My back is fine. I’ve never thrown it out any of those other times I carried you before, and I’m not about to start now. You’re never too heavy. ‘Sides, how many times have I tossed your sexy ass around in bed? Hm?” He asks as he turns the corner, leading you to your shared room.

He immediately rids your mind of any insecurities as he’s met with your silence. Bashfulness coursing through your veins as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck..

“Exactly. That's what I thought,” he says as he kicks the door open, tossing you onto the bed. You yelp as you bounce in the air, Frankie’s pupils dilate - blown black and wide.

Your head resting on a pillow with dress ridden up your thighs, exposing your panties to him as your breasts nearly spill over the low neckline.

He pulls your shoes off, his following suit as tosses them off to the side. Snaking his hands up your thighs, he grabs the hem of your tights.

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” he warns before yanking them down, tearing them in the process. It’s unbelievably feral, how swiftly he ripped the tights in two. You gasp as another wave of arousal pools in between your thighs.

He hovers over you, hands trailing up your tummy and cupping your breasts. He captures your lips in his, patience thrown to the wind as his tongue invades your mouth. Sucking in your bottom lip between his teeth, you moan as he bites down. The slight sting only sending more slick to seep from your weeping cunt.

You eagerly fumble with the hem of his shirt as you moan into his mouth. His chest rumbles with a small chuckle, before parting from your lips. He quickly yanks it over his head and tosses it to the floor, refocusing on your lips.

He snakes his hands down to your waist where your dress is bunched up. Slowly raking it up your body, you lift yourself up so he can pull it off you. Frankie licks his lips. He knew you’d been wearing one of his favorite lacy bras, but it’s such a sight for him every time.

Sloppy kisses are exchanged while he slickly maneuvers to unhook your bra, lifting you slightly and discarding it on the floor. He kisses down your bare breasts, sucking a nipple in his mouth while he fiddles with his belt. Frankie releases your nipple with a lewd pop and shucks off his jeans and briefs, his hard cock throbbing.

Both of you bared naked, on display for each other.

“So fucking beautiful, baby. The most beautiful woman on Earth,” he rasps, nearly to himself.

Heat radiates throughout your body, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears and a fire simmering in your belly as he slides down to position himself in front of your bare sex.

Frankie insatiably licks his lips, feasting his eyes on your glistening folds. As if he’s about to devour the finest meal. He peppers kisses along your soft thighs, making you twitch under his grasp.

Your clit throbs, aching for attention. Whining, your hips buck up into his face as he presses a tender kiss to your mound.

“I got you, bebita,” he whispers against your core. He dives in, tongue licking languid stripes up your folds. Frankie groans at the taste, something he’ll never get enough of.

Flicking your clit combined with the vibrations of his groans draws out a high-pitched moan from you, your head sinking further into the pillow. His tongue prods your entrance, slurping up your slick.

“S-so fucking good, Frankie. A-always so f-fucking good to me,” you keen as the flames in your belly fan into a fully-fledged fire. Panting and whimpering, you squirm beneath his hold as he relentlessly flicks your pearl.

He grips your thighs tighter as he suckles your clit between his lips, humming into you. Stars burst behind your eyes as you're engulfed by your orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum, Frankie! I’m gonna-,”

You're cut off by a never-ending stream of moans, babbling incoherently about how good Frankie is. Tugging on his hair as you fall over the edge.

He lets out an animalistic groan as he laps at your slick, slurping up every last drop. Savoring the tangy sweetness seeping from your aching cunt, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at the taste. He takes great pleasure in getting you off.

A thin sheen of sweat covers your body, glistening in the warm glow of the room. Frankie presses a chaste kiss to your thigh and gives it a gentle squeeze before towering over you.

Your eyes heavy and glossed over with bliss. Whimpering into him as he presses his lips to yours, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“Sweeter than any fucking cake, bebita,” he jokes, getting a giggle out of you. You bring him down to meet your lips again. Humming as you feel his hard length graze against your bare sex.

Precum weeps from his tip, lightly smearing on your mound. A soft moan slips from you as Frankie lines his cock up with your pussy. He swirls the tip around your mound, gathering your slick on his cock as he teasingly prods your entrance.

“Frankieee, please. Need you inside me,” you whine, rutting your hips seeking relief.

“Relax, hermosa. Like I said, I got you.”

He slowly slips inside, your dripping pussy welcoming him in with ease. Your walls flutter around him, adjusting to his size. Moaning in tandem as he slides home, bottoming out. He’s so big, he’s already kissing your cervix.

You clench around him, panting as the sting from the stretch of his cock morphs into pleasure. Frankie lets out a moan, huffing as he tries to keep his composure.

“Don’t do that, baby. Or else it’ll be over before it even started,” he grunts above you.

“Then how about you fuck me, Morales? ‘S my birthday, I want you - need you, baby,” you whine.

“Oh I’m gonna fuck you, baby. Gonna have you fucking stumbling all over the place after this,” he slurs, nearly drunk on just being inside your warm walls.

Without preamble, he swiftly draws his hips back before slamming into you. You unabashedly scream, not caring that your neighbors will probably hear you.

Your noises drive Frankie wild, spurring him on to bring you to your orgasm. His pace picks up, unrelenting as he cants his hips into yours - pushing himself deeper and deeper with each thrust as he hovers above you.

His chest brushes against yours as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“Feel good, bebita? Huh? Feel me here, in your stomach?” He taunts, pressing down on your stomach as he punches your g-spot. The added pressure makes the coil in your belly tighten, burning white hot as he fucks in and out of you.

“Answer me, baby,” he growls against your lips, the angle he’s at hitting that spot just right.

“Y-Yes, Frankie! Feels s-sooo fucking g-good! Gonna feel you for d-days,” you shriek, hiccupping as tears prick the corners of your eyes. Squeezing around him as your second orgasm rapidly approaches.

“That’s right, baby. Your pussy feels so fucking good, so fucking tight. I could live between these fucking thighs. Like you were made for me,” he babbles, moaning as you clench around him.

“Made for you, Frankie. Only you,” you whisper, the air being punched from your lungs with every thrust.

“Cum for me, bebita. Dámelo, wanna see your gorgeous face when you soak my cock. Come on, baby,” he grunts, holding out on his orgasm - set on making you cum first.

His words toss you over the edge. The coil snapping in your belly as you writhe beneath him, riding out your orgasm, gushing all over his cock.

“Fuck yes, bebita. Good girl, good fucking girl,” Frankie grits as he continues to fuck you through your high. His own orgasm not far behind.

“Cum, Frankie, f-fill me up, baby, please!” You beg breathlessly as you come down from your high.

He moans, chasing his high as he ruts into you. Moaning in tandem as he fills you with his load. Both of you sticky and clammy, covered in sweat and cum. He topples over you, caging you in between his broad biceps.

Small lingering kisses trail along your neck as you bask in each other's proximity and warmth. The post-coital bliss sinking in. You wrap your arms around his taut back, running your fingers through his disheveled curls.

“Love you so much, Frankie," you whisper into his ear.

“Love you so much more, princesa."

Translations:

Que le muerda - bite it

Eres el amor de mi vida - you are the love of my life

Eres mi amor, mi luz, mi vida, mi luna y todas mis estrellas. - you are my love, my light, my light, my moon and all my stars. You are my everything

Eres mi todo - you are my everything

Te amo mucho, con todo mi corazón, bebita - I love you so much, with all my heart, baby girl.

Dámelo - give it to me

hehehehe can you tell Frankie is rotting my brain?

this was definitely my most vulnerable piece yet, as it contains aspects authentic to me so i was very nervy to post. like i said, i hope you found some relatability, and enjoyed!

anyway, happy frankie friday!! thank you so much for reading!! 🩷

tag list: @nostalxgic @sweetercalypso @undrthelights @gracieheartspedro @sapphic-gardn @bastardmandennis @party-hearses @tinygarbage @mandoisapunk @pedrostories @harriedandharassed

[schmidtkisser]

hi there!! i just want to say that i absolutely loved your first fic, it was beautiful! regarding prompt suggestions, could you perhaps do something like the reader helping mike get a restful night's sleep following the events of the movie? no pressure ofc!!

Nightly Lullaby

pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader

word count: 1.8k

synopsis: mike has trouble sleeping due to the anxiety of dreaming the same memory he has trained his brain for over the past few years. after tucking abby into bed, you help mike finally sleep comfortably for once.

content: established relationship between you and mike, 2nd person pov, comfort, fluff, domestic fluff, love language: physical touch, insomniac mike, fnaf movie spoilers (story takes place after the events of the movie), you babysit abby, you sing them to sleep

a/n: thank u anon for the rq! this was so fun to write and was such a cute prompt to work with <3 hope i did it justice

★彡★彡★彡

It had been about a week or two since Mike resigned from being a security guard at a run-down, haunted pizzeria.

You heard all about it from Mike himself. The history of the place, the owner, animatronics possessed by the ghosts of dead children, his past with Garrett — everything. It was hard to believe at first, but the sincerity in his tone, as well as the fact that Mike wasn’t the kind of person to lie to you, led you to believe everything he claimed was true.

You could barely imagine everything he had to go through. Losing his little brother, his parents, having a difficult time finding a job, all while in the process of almost losing custody of his sister. Though he seemed to be struggling less now that it was all over, you couldn’t help but notice his struggle with sleep ever since then.

Mike always relied on a nightly routine to help him sleep up until a week ago. He told you about the dream theory, and how he’d stare at a Nebraska poster while listening to nature noises on a walkman.

The part that concerned you the most was his reliance on sleeping pills. You couldn’t even begin to describe the relief you felt when he admitted that he was ready to stop using them every night. But now, as a result of the sudden routine change and the lack of pills, he had a hard time falling asleep.

—

He leans against his sister’s doorframe, his arms folded as he watches you with half-lidded eyes. You always tuck Abby into bed after a long day, pulling the comforter over her shoulders before you give her a small forehead kiss. A little conversation exchange would occur, before she would ask a small request from you.

“Can you hum me a song again?” Abby asks, her brown eyes sparkling with anticipation. The simple routine following up to the nightly lullaby works like a charm. She’ll be asleep in no time. “They help me sleep. And you always do it better than Mike.”

You can’t help but scoff a small laugh at the stab at Mike, glancing over at him to see his reaction. He playfully rolls his eyes at you two, before continuing to observe you both.

You look back at Abby, who is hiding her obvious smile beneath the duvet covers. Your eyes soften at her, your hand reaching down to pet her head, before you begin to hum a simple, yet effective lullaby as she requested. She listens intently, her eyes beginning to flutter shut within the first minute or so of your hum.

Though, she wasn’t the only one listening to the sweet song. Mike’s ears tune into your delicate crooning, yawning quietly as he leans himself forward. He adores the soft rumble from your throat, how it strung itself together into a beautifully crafted lullaby. He thinks you sound angelic despite not singing a single word. He can feel his heart pick up a beat as he listens. He feels his eyes grow heavier, his head beginning to nod off as he feels himself begin to drift.

But the lullaby ends almost as quickly as it began. You pull away from Abby, her soft snores slipping out in purrs; she’s out like a light. Your lips curl into a little smile when you observe her, slowly lifting yourself off of her bed as your attention shifts to Mike, who is in the most exhausted state you’ve ever seen him in. The poor man looks like he’s about to fall over any second.

You make your way over to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. The sudden contact wakes him up, his eyes widening slightly in surprise as he looks at you. His cheeks flush with warmth from how close you are, not to mention the comforting feeling of your arm wrapped around him. It made him want to melt, thinking you feel much warmer compared to any blanket he’s ever used.

“Come on, Mike,” you whisper, guiding him forward. You quietly close Abby’s door as the two of you leave the room. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods, trying his best not to drag his feet across the floor as you walk him to his bedroom. He feels heavy as he leans against you, his exhaustion making itself present with every passing second.

Making your way inside the room, you close the door behind you with the heel of your foot. You walk him to his bed while you keep him close to you. The cold air nips at your skin, and you can feel Mike shiver against you too. You reach over to click his lamp on, the warm light illuminating the room. He murmurs your name softly as you both take a seat on his mattress with a creak.

“There, there,” you rub a hand up his back. Your eyes gaze down at him, noticing even the slightest few details about him. His furrowed brows, the little frown pursed on his lips, and most notably; the dark eye bags dusted beneath his eyes. The sight saddens you. He really hasn’t slept a wink in the past week.

He casts his eyes up at you, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist as he pulls you closer. To him, it feels like having a teddy bear in his arms — something he hadn’t really felt since the loss of his childhood. The thought gets him emotional, and he attempts to hide the sudden flood of emotions welling in his face by nuzzling himself against your neck. His fingers slowly clutch onto the fabric of your shirt.

“I don’t want to dream anymore,” he utters. “Things are fine now but, what if I dream about that again, you know? I mean, I trained my brain to think of the same memory every night.” There was a slight crack in his voice, his clutch growing tighter. “Y/N, I know it sounds stupid, but I just…”

“…It’s not stupid. None of it is.” You hush him gently. Your hand trails over to his shoulder, the other reeling him in for a warm hug. You can feel his tense body begin to calm as he takes control of his breathing. The comfort of your embrace never fails to ease him. “I can’t imagine being in your position, but sudden change is difficult. I just want you to know that I’m always here for you, Mike.”

Your tone stumbled slightly as you spoke. It came out cornier than you wanted it to, and you felt your face heat up a little in embarrassment. His silence following your words scares you into a small pit of self-doubt. Did you say the wrong thing? Was it even helpful? You nervously nibble at your lower lip, waiting for any kind of response.

Then, you feel a small, amused huff against the skin of your neck, followed by a little nod from him. The fingers clutching your shirt loosened slightly, but he still kept a grasp on you. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You let out a sigh of relief, cradling Mike in your arms. Your lips curl up into a smile, pulling away from the hug just slightly to look at him again. His brows weren’t furrowed anymore, and you can even see a hint of a smile on his face.

You cup his cheek with the palm of your hand, exchanging a sudden, yet loving kiss between you two. The kiss catches him off guard, but he eases into it quickly. You savour the tender feeling of his lips, the warmth of his cheek against your palm, how he kissed back with the same amount of love in his gesture.

Oh, how he makes you melt.

You pull away at the same time, taking a breath as you look longingly into each others’ eyes. Your thumb brushes gently against the corner of his lip, your palm feeling every inch of his stubble. He leans into your touch, and you can’t help but think that he resembles a puppy with the way he looks at you. He closes his eyes, nuzzling against your palm with a yawn. Your eyes soften, beginning to realise how tired you’ve gotten also.

“Bed time?” You whisper. He nods silently in response.

You draw back from the intimate cuddles to tuck him into bed. He feels your absence, and you feel it too, despite the fact that you were just a foot away from him.

He brings himself down onto his bed, resting his head against the feather-filled pillow. You carefully pull the comforter over his body, providing him with warmth against the cold air circulating in the room. He was just about ready to pass out, but his fingers clasp at the rim of your shirt.

“Can you sleep here, with me?” He croaks, turning his eyes away from you. “Please.”

Initially, you were planning to drive home after he went to bed, but you couldn’t help but soften at his request. You were growing too tired to drive safely anyway. You click his lamp off, the room getting swallowed in darkness, with the moonlight peaking through the slits of the blinds. “I can.”

You crawl into the empty spot on the bed next to him, sinking yourself beneath the covers. His bed was far more comfortable than you could imagine, and the faint scent of him has you sinking in deeper.

He rolls over to lie on his side, facing you as his arms snake around your waist again. You do the same, enveloping him in your embrace. He rests his face against your chest with a lazy hum. As he listens intently to the beat of your heart, he thinks of a small, though embarrassing request.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mmm?”

“Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t.”

He pulls you in closer, your bodies intertwining. “Can you hum me a song?” He murmurs. “Like you do with Abby.”

The question catches you off guard. You should’ve expected it, yet it still surprised you — but not in a bad way. Deep down, you knew he felt a bit embarrassed for asking you to sing him to sleep. He is a grown man, after all, not a child like Abby.

Yet, you carry no judgement, cradling him in your arms as you accept his request. It was better than listening to a nature tape on loop, or the dead silence of the house, after all.

You begin to hum for him, your lips pressed together as you craft a tune for him to nod off to. He pays close attention to every note, to the rise and fall of your chest when you croon, to how your voice would bounce off the walls back to you two. With every passing second, he can feel his eyes grow heavier. In the comfort of your arms and the sweet sound of your song, he finally lulls off to a deep, peaceful sleep.

You can feel his body relax against yours, and his soft breaths hit against the skin of your chest as he falls into a slumber. You slowly wrap up the song, keeping him in your hold as you nuzzle the top of his head. You smile to yourself, your heart full of tenderness and warmth, whispering for one last time tonight.

“Goodnight, Mike.”

[shinhoebakuhoekitten]

I cannot get the idea of roommate Shinso, who has a smaller but loyal group of fans that he streams his spicy content to. The only catch is you don’t know about it and he only streams when you are out of the house for hours.

You were supposed to be at work but was first cut from your waitressing job and you were unexpectedly home a few hours early. You quietly enter your shared apartment, never knowing when your insomniac roommate was asleep or not.

You begin to knock on his door softly to signal that you were home early but before your knuckles make contact with the wood you hear a deep voice that you had never heard before.

“Mmm kittens, I don’t know if these donations are enough tonight to actually see daddy’s cock.”

Your eyes widen as you realize that it’s Shinso that is laying it on so thick. You had never heard your roommate like this before.

When you had first started rooming with him two years ago he was so quite that you weren’t sure if he ever actually talked. It wasn’t until months of hanging out as friends that you realized he was just a reserved guy but when did talk it was usually quick snarky quips that made you belly laugh.

Coming back to reality you placed your hand on the doorknob and realized that the door was not fully closed and had actually stopped right before shutting. You placed barely any pressure on it, allowing it to open just enough that you could see a sliver into his room.

There was Shinso, shirtless with light grey sweatpants on that were so low on his slender hips that you could see the beginning of his purple happy trail. He had worn his hair in a low ponytail and it was obvious that the camera on his laptop was only pointing to his lower abs and the huge bulge in his pants that he was slowly stroking through his sweatpants.

The sounds of donations started spilling in after he said that, making Shinso grin as he continued his slow strokes, showing that he had a way bigger cock then you ever expected from your roommate.

“That’s what daddy likes. Maybe you kittens do deserve to see my cock.”

Shinso didn’t tease his audience much longer as he began slowly shimming out of his low hanging sweatpants. You quickly realized that he was not wearing any underwear as his cock came springing upward once it was freed.

You tried not to gawk but you couldn’t believe how pretty his dick actually was. It was an average length of about 6.5 inches, but it was the thickness that made you ache with need.

You knew he would stretch your pussy in all of the right ways.

As you stared you realized just what you were doing, and you did not want to get caught. Without a second thought you walked quietly to your purse and exited the apartment as quietly as you could.

You knew you could not enter the apartment until Shinso expected you to because you never wanted him to know that you not only had seen his cock, but that you really liked it and wondered what it felt like in your mouth and nestled between your folds.

[thecryptidzenith]

I wish you would write a fic where... Kalina manages to deflect Pok and keep him alive as a tool instead of having him killed

The way this premise is worded puts Kalina in the position of power, but I love it when Pok's a cheeky bastard so...

~

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I think you're getting stood up, hon."

Pok hummed, non-committal, as the waitress refilled his water for the third time, "No, I got here early. Earlier than I should have, probably."

Their meeting was meant to be at 5:15, a reasonable enough time for dinner on a weeknight, but definitely early. Early enough that Pok would have enough time to catch the train to Elmville and see Riz before he went to sleep for the night. Or more accurately, before he went to bed for the night. Sklonda had told him about their son's attempts to stay up as late as possible, just in case tonight was when Daddy came home, just in case he'd come walking through the door in the next minute or hour, and how could he sleep knowing that?

She'd said it wryly, like it was a joke, but he was well-aware of the admonishment in it. Riz wouldn't feel the need to become an insomniac if he was home more. If every second with Daddy wasn't precious enough to be worth losing hours of sleep over.

But that wasn't why Kalina wanted this meeting early. She wanted as few witnesses as possible, he knew that. And it worked for him, so he acquiesced. The interplay of compromises and negotiations was second nature to him at this point. He refused to have this conversation in private, and she didn't want to go somewhere busy. He arrived ten minutes early so she would see him waiting on her, and eight minutes after their agreed upon time, he expected she'd be here ten minutes late to signal that she had better things to do.

"She'll be here," he promised the waitress, in a manner that he was sure sounded like he was trying to convince himself of it.

She sighed, "That's what they all say," and walked away.

Pok took a sip of his water and looked around the restaurant--yet another compromise. Time wasn't the only factor in how busy a place was. He recounted the twenty-three patrons clustered around lacquered wood tables and squished into sticky red booths. Servers with branded aprons over their normal clothes came out every once and a while. He'd been occupying himself with trying to draw the exact boundaries of their sections, and he couldn't tell where along the wall of booths one ended and another began. Maybe the edge of one of the photos on the wall served as the border, but none of them seemed to line up cleanly with the booths.

Nine minutes after she should have been there--either she was relaxed and sloppy tonight or her imprecision disguised deliberate calculation--Kalina walked through the door. Her dress was Solesian, nice, but not overly so. A satiny grey, flowing top with crisscrossing straps. Perfect for a Solesian summer and decently formal, though the black jeans made the outfit more casual. Dying sunlight glinted off her silver arm cuffs, blindingly bright on a usually dark figure. Her eyes seemed to meet Pok's the second she walked through the door. She ignored the employee up front who in turn ignored her as she walked straight up to his table and sat down.

"Pok."

"Kalina."

"It's good to see you."

"Likewise."

A beat.

He hadn't told her why he wanted to meet like this. He hadn't told her why he had wanted to meet at all. But Kalina spoke a second before he did.

"How's the family?"

Standard small talk or an implicit threat? His response was the same either way, "Good. Sklonda just wrapped up a pretty big case, and Riz has been enjoying the summer. Lot of time at the pool, he's a pretty good swimmer."

Kalina smirked, "Good enough to swim across the moat into Fort Quintana?"

Despite himself, he smiled back, "I can't believe you're still bringing that up, it's been... heavens, thirteen years?"

"Fourteen."

"Goodness." It felt like yesterday and a lifetime ago, "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Yes," she confirmed cautiously, "it has."

"We've known each other for a long time. And over that time, we've done a lot of stuff together. We've been a good team. I've trusted you with my life more times than I can count, and you've always delivered. At the end of the day, this is business. But it has never been just business. I think--I hope--that we've built up enough of a rapport over the years that this can stay civil. I just want what's best for you, for both of us."

Kalina grinned, disarmingly sarcastic and pithy in face of his sincerity, "Pok Gukgak, are you breaking up with me?"

"'I remember when a river ran through here,'" he quoted, "do you remember saying that?"

"I say a lot of things, Pok, I can't be fucked to remember them all."

"I do. You said that you remembered when a river ran through somewhere, a change that occurs on a geologic time scale. I've known you for seventeen years and you haven't aged a day. You can't interact with certain objects, you never eat, and you travel too quickly."

"It's rude to comment on a lady's age."

"Kalina," he chided, "I already know enough to get you removed from the Third Ring. It's in an encrypted email, scheduled to send some time tomorrow if I don't cancel it. But those files don't actually tell me who you are. Or what you are. As a colleague, as someone I respect, and even as someone I consider a friend, I thought I owed you the opportunity to explain. And as an agent of the Solesian Secret Service, I thought I'd be prudent to give you the opportunity to come over to our side."

If he could convince Kalina accept Solesian amnesty, it'd be a game changer for his position in the Service. He didn't want to blackmail her into it--the email was just insurance that she wouldn't murder him right then and there--but if he could convince her to work for their side...

It'd be enough for a promotion. Or at least a change in departments. He was thirty-eight years old and not getting any younger. It was only a matter of time before he finally got sent on a mission he wouldn't come back from. He'd been in the fucking Service since he was twenty-one. He'd done unspeakable things for them, climbed the ladder with bloody claws, and he'd made it farther than he ever thought he would.

But it still wasn't far enough. He was still one stray shot away from everything crumbling to pieces.

Bringing Kalina over to their side would force his superiors to take him out of field work. It had to, she was a legendary asset. He'd get a promotion and a pay raise, probably becoming a handler, hell, he'd probably be Kalina's handler. He'd have the opportunity to train and advise younger agents and work with already competent ones. He'd have more time at home and more importantly, he wouldn't have to worry every time he left for a mission if this was the last time he'd ever see Sklonda and Riz again.

That was the dream, anyway. He'd settle for not dying today.

"Are you trying to blackmail me into flipping, Gukgak?"

"No, the email is just to make sure you don't kill me right now." So was the restaurant and the twenty-three patrons inside. "I'm not interested in blackmailing you."

"Then what are you interested in?" she asked--demanded, really--finally serious.

"The truth."

She searched his expression.

"I mean it. I'm going to find it eventually, but I'd rather hear it from you."

"You wouldn't find it. I've made sure of it."

He cocked his eyebrow, "And you've never made a mistake?"

Kalina glowered. There was a long pause before either of them said anything else. Pok watched her analyze him, weighing her options and his character. He didn't try to appear as anything other than he was: an honest and concerned friend.

"Have you tried this trick on Riz yet?" she asked, "'Cause I guarantee that kid would fold like a collapsible chair if you tried this on him."

He shrugged, letting her have her flippancy, "Haven't needed to yet."

"Just wait," she said ominously.

Pok hummed and didn't deign that with a response, forcing Kalina to focus on the matter at hand.

"Fuck it," she declared out of the blue, "You want to know what I am?"

"I do."

"Okay."

She told him.

~

There's definitely more here and I might put an extended version of this on AO3 at some point, (if I do that, it'll probably be Pok/Sklonda/Kalina, because. i want to.) but obviously I love this premise. My version is less 'Pok ends up as Kalina's tool' (though she certainly does manipulate him) and more 'in which the Gukgak parents have moralities befitting a cop and a Fantasy CIA agent,' which is a concept I've been playing around with for a while because I Think It's Neat.

[epicawsomeusername]

The pred growls as the wrestle their prey into a pair of pajamas. The prey kicks and struggles, intentionally making things difficult for their pred.

The prey had previously been working on their laptop, mindless entering numbers into a spreadsheet for the past five hours, overworking themselves to the point of exhaustion. They can’t sleep, of course. Every time they close their eyes, they see the dull glow of their laptop screen, reminding them of the countless assignments they’ll have to do tomorrow.

The pred hates seeing their prey like this. They remember freshman year, the prey was a bundle of joy that could barely be contained. As time went on, school squeezed every ounce of creativity and happiness out of the prey’s mind, turning them into a full husk of the person they once were.

“Just let me help you!” The pred yells as they struggle to control their squirming prey. The pred has a gift for helping people fall asleep. Friends will come to see them when they need sleep or comfort. All the pred has to do is swallow someone down and they’ll be asleep within minutes.

The pred opens their mouth, engulfing the prey’s small head as they struggle. They forcefully swallow the prey down, taking more of them in until just the prey’s wiggling feet stick out of the preds mouth. The close their eyes and swallow one last time, causing the prey to slide down into the preds warm, safe stomach.

The pred gently rubs their belly, feeling the prey kick and squirm inside. “Just calm down,” the pred says. “I’m not gonna let you overwork yourself. Your work will be there tomorrow, just rest and let me hold you.” The prey’s struggling grows weaker as they succumb to the soothing and relaxing sensations of being in the press belly. They feel so safe and warm, cradled by the soft, stretchy walls. It’s a bit slimy, but the prey doesn’t mind. It’s still unbelievably comfortable. The pred closes their eyes and lets out a sigh of relief as the prey falls asleep. The prey is finally getting some much needed rest.

This is an expansion on the post I made a few days ago about the insomniac prey.

[they-thespian666]

Ok I have gotta ask. Theres this youtuber I watched a couple of video game reviews from and I keep seeing you reblog like. Content of their avatar with other characters? And there seems to be some kind of plot or story? Take this ask as a place to infodump basiclly! What is it, what is it called, where can I find it, whats the story, ect (only if u wanna, no presure!)

OKAY SO

I'm pretty sure the youtuber in question is pastra in which case they do make a lot of video essay type stuff about things they're passionate about (also the little avatar character's name is clyde). They ALSO have their own original series called dreams of an insomniac that he started making roughly a year ago I think? Anyways there are currently four videos out of it (a pilot of sorts, two short entries, and one official episode) and the general plot rundown is that a small town called Eastridge county is being terrorized by creatures called veldigun who do all sorts of fucked up shit. I'd recommend watching the series but content warning for some body horror, a few mild jumpscares and loud noises, as well as some unreality type stuff. ALSO ALSO don't expect a lot of the things in tumblr posts to show up in the actual series cause tumblr specifically has gone off the rails with an au of "what if the main character of volume 1 befriended the Creatures?" As outlined in this post by my beloved friend doodle

Anyways that's about it :]

[hawkogurl]

I'll probably have more to say about this later bc I'm going to sleep soon, but I feel like, you, oliveroctavius, me, and a few other people are like the small minority I've seen anywhere who actually criticize TASM for the eugenics and ableism, and it honestly floors me that no one talks about it when it's so blatant and tumblr loves bringing up disability and ableism otherwise? Like, it's not even a case of how everyone has valid differing opinions and needs/wants when it comes to how the vast range of disabled experiences should be approached in fiction and there's nuance in how to do even tricky, but real experiences like grief and loss - we're talking about a film series where an antagonist meant to be sympathetic makes a speech about disability being a weakness of humanity that must be genetically eradicated to strengthen it (which is never deconstructed or challenged) and has no other characterization beyond sad amputee whose only interest for a decade is his missing arm, and where Peter is some kind of genetic chosen one whose Good Genes give him cool powers, and the whole mess with Harry.

The few other times on tumblr I've seen it brought up is to like, woobify (internalized) ableism even though the films go way beyond realistic personal struggle and straight into eugenics, and as someone with a Lizard niche in the Spidey fandom, I'm floored at how everywhere else, I keep seeing the TASM version of the character topping best adaptation discussions by a huge margin compared to way better takes with zero references of the ableism (this was not the case even a few years ago, idk what happened), and you can correct me on this if I'm wrong bc you would know more about the Harry side of things than me, but I feel like TASM!Harry used to be very popular and be moved, at least until MSM2017 and Insomniac came along.

Hi sorry my brother just graduated college. Anyways, in regards to the Harry side of things, I think a lot of the ableism SHOULD be pretty obvious, but apparently it’s not considering how little critical thought there is with all these villains. There’s the good genes bad genes eugenics of Harry wanting Peter’s blood to cure himself and then it doesn’t work because the spider only worked with Peter’s “good genes” (I don’t care about their in canon excuse, it still buys into this trope) and it reacted so badly with the TERMINALLY ILL CHARACTERS “bad genes” that he turned crazy and evil. And that’s ignoring my general distaste for disability or “insanity” being used primarily as a source of fear for the good, noble, and of course able bodied protagonists.

Something that’s also pretty weird that nobody mentions is the fact that like, Electro in these movies just HAD to talk to nothing. Normally it wouldn’t bother me as much or I might be willing to give it a pass, but it’s these movies, which just love to make their disdain for disabled people clear, so it comes off as super bad taste.

Like… I’m only scratching the surface. Why are there three people who consistently point out how ableist these movies are? Especially when as you said, tasm Harry is pretty popular! Ignoring my beef with him as a Harry Osborn, it’s so odd to me because so much of that is either like, sort of romanticizing his chronic illness and breakdown or getting off on that ableist insanity I mentioned earlier.

And when you bring it up, people get SUPER defensive. I don’t know if like, the amount of invalid criticism just makes people defensive or if it makes people think there’s NO valid criticism but like… these movies aren’t bad for the reasons you think. The issues they have are like… the writing saying that eugenics is cool and fun alongside generally iffy writing.

[take-everything-you-can]

Helllooooo Eddie blurb idea!!

It's a trope but always one of my favourites - Eddie has a nightmare and needs reader to comfort him? ✨️

Oh God I love this idea, an insomniac who has hella nightmares !! Say Less! I took my sleeping meds so this has not been edited at all. I just wanted to at least get this out before a delirious haze started to set in, before the words started to make no sense to me but alas ..... Thank you so much for this blurb idea my inbox is always open for more !!! Love ya ! @like-what-the-fuck-scoob

Pairing : Eddie Munson x Fem reader

Word count: 1k

TW: I don't think there are any but if you see any please let me know. I do put all my writing under 18+Minors DNI no matter what !!! There is some slight angst but this is truly all Fluff .

Black Clouds and falling ash the swarm came faster and faster no matter how much he willed his feet to move. Vines scattered the ground like veins wrapping into the earth as ivy would the side of a house. All it took for him to lose his footing was a look back over his shoulder and it was already too late. With a searing pain to his abdomen and another to his shoulder, the swarm of Demobats lightly lifted as their teeth sank into Eddie's skin through his flesh and finding bone, a body thrown to the ground as a defense to make their enemy immobilized and Eddie thought of you. The last thing he thought of was you. 

Gasping for air as he shot up, body drenched in sweat, sheets damp. He notices you still haven't made it to bed. A few hours ago he had left you in the living room of your newly shared home with the light of a lamp and a good book he had bought you a few days prior. You had told him how excited you were to start it and his body had been plagued with exhaustion, normally he would have stayed next to you cracking the worn spine of his own novel in hand but he could just barely keep his eyes open then, now he was wide awake. 

He wrapped the quilt off the bed around himself as he made his way down a small hallway and into the living room finding you exactly where he had left you , except this time when he rounded the corner you had a mug of tea and a plate filled with bits of cheese and crackers. A small snack to nibble while you read. 

You only pried yourself away from your book as you felt the cushion of the seat next to you dip with Eddie's body weight. 

“Hey Babe.” Closing your book you set it down on the coffee table. He hums in your direction looking to the floor refusing to meet your eyes. “ Eds ? You okay? You upset I didn't go to bed with you ?” He wasn’t , he couldn’t even remember a time he had even been mad at you. Something he cherished, you just got him, understood what he thought was damage. You had your fair share of tough times. Something you both had in common from the start was how hard it was to let people into your life and to put trust into those people. But the second that you did,  he knew instantly he loved you, even if it did take him five years and almost dying to tell you, but before he could reassure you of that, you started up again.

“I’m sorry I know it’s late.” looking at your wrist the time flashed three fifteen a.m. “ Really late but I just got so wrapped up in this book.” He opens his arms, taking and pulling you across his lap and into the blanket cocoon with him, he nuzzles his face into your hair as he takes a few deep breaths breathing in the delicate waves of coconut and rose, a combination of shampoo and conditioner you liked to use. 

“ I had the nightmare again.” You pull away from him slightly as you place a hand on either side of his face. 

“ Hey It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m okay. See? “ You take one of his hands and hold it over your heart and let him feel the rhythm of the beat and then place it over his own letting him feel his own letting him see that his sounded  just as strong as your own. As his breathing begins to catch his lashes begin to fill with unshed tears letting only one fall over the curve of his cheek, but a swift mover of your fingers wipe the tear away before it can settle along his jaw and take its fall to his neck. “ We made it out of that hellscape okay? We Have A beautiful home, An alive set of friends for your sacrifices , we had the most amazing wedding , wayne is good , life is good and we are here. Me and you, always and forever.” 

“ Always and forever.” A sounded call to the words that left your lips and a small smile crawled across his face. “ Can you come to bed now? I don’t want to go back in  there alone.” It made your heart seize the words that came from him in a soft plea and silent please on his tongue. 

“Anything for you Eds.”  He lifted you both off of the couch in a bridal hold as he started to round the corner he first appeared from, stopping only to lean you down just enough to shut the lamp on the table beside the couch off. 

Sliding you into the sheets of your bed he walked to his side as you threw your shorts off  to the side, opting to sleep in one of Eddie's old worn out band tees and underwear. 

He tossed the quilt back onto the bed letting you get enough around yourself before wrapping an arm around your waist pulling you into his space. Weaving the other beneath your head, finding the hand you would prop under your chin when you slept and fitting his fingers against yours he started to feel whole again . Like the bats didn’t take anything from him at all , with your back flush against his chest he felt as if you were one being not two separate souls.

You started to hum a song , one that always made your anxieties soften and you hoped now it would do the same for Eddie. 

The notes of once upon a dream started to sooth you and you could feel Eddie's body soften and tension ease as the song went on. A small breath to your neck was the only sign that gave away he was still fighting sleep. You tried to match his breathing, finding your own body was becoming lax within his hold. A small whisper before your eyes found the black static behind your lids, a barely audible “ Always and forever .” An echo instinct before slipping completely.

“Always and forever.”

[hourcat]

Model and Designer for piarles 😘🙏

20. model and designer

Pierre can't sleep.

It's becoming a habit, which is not boding well for his stomach lining considering how much more coffee he's been drinking because of that fact. Pierre just...can't sleep. There's not much he can really attribute it to, except for maybe the fact that he's a few months out from the big debut of his whole new fashion line--the latest Louis offshoot he'd been fortunate enough to helm. This is years of his life at stake: all that school and groundwork, all the bleeding and pricking and crying he'd done to find himself here, surrounded by fabric swatches laid out haphazardly at the desk kitty-cornered in his bedroom. There are stacks of photos and torn-up magazines out on his kitchen counter. His whole apartment is now a perfect parallel to his workplace: covered in ideas, wall-to-wall.

Hm. Maybe that's why he's becoming an insomniac.

Instead of paying the thought any more attention, though, Pierre slips out of bed and pads over to his desk chair, grabs the nearest sketchbook of his and flips to a blank page. It's not quite dawn, but there's more light than there was a few hours ago--enough to see what he'd left behind.

Charles is out cold. Completely asleep, drool and all. He looks innocent in ways that no photographer would ever be able to capture: forehead smoothed out with sleep, body curled in on itself slightly in the absence of someone next to him. Pierre gazes at him, sketchbook heavy in his hands, and feels the guilt in his stomach like a knife. He'd only invited his lead model over tonight for a review of their plans for the first walk-through with the clothes. (They have to move right, after all: Pierre needs to see his work from all angles in motion before he can be comfortable putting it on stage, even for a dress rehearsal.)

He hadn't planned for two bottles of wine. He certainly hadn't planned for Charles in his lap, warm and pliant and so, so easy as Pierre had given him direction: take this off and open your mouth and hands and knees. The memory of it makes Pierre's throat tight. So good for me, he'd mumbled after, mouth pressing just under Charles' ear, and the yes sir he'd gotten back had thrown him right out of his own mind.

He grips the sketchbook tighter. There's no way this can ever happen again, he knows--once is a mistake and he'll keep it that way.

From the bed, Charles snores lightly. It's a soft sound: sweet, almost. Pierre's chest is so tight he swears he must've forgotten how to breathe.

"Oh, Charlie," he whispers to the quiet of the room, "what have I done?" Nothing good, he's certain. Pencil in hand, Pierre tries to redirect his thoughts to the work laid out on the desk behind him--dresses with angular cuts, wide-arm sleeves, the jagged lines of a belt that's been nagging at the back of his mind since he'd axed the last round of the designs from his main book.

What he ends up with is this: Charles, in charcoal, curled up in his expensive sheets. The most damning evidence of his lapse in judgment, and he can't even bring himself to rip the sketch to shreds because it feels like a waste--a waste of beauty, even if it's a beauty he can't have.

[doodle-girl]

@follychromatic @dimonds456 Felt like doing a real quick doodle page of the sillies before bed because my brain decided it’s Missing/Loving Them Hours <3 I love Dante, his pointy little doggo snoot is very fun to draw hehe :]

(Would also like to quickly take the moment to apologize for saying I was making this animatic like over half a year ago and then never speaking of it again, heheh. Let’s just say school plus lack of motivation got in the way at first and well….. If you’ve seen ANY of my insane amount of art at ALL from the past few months I think we both kinda know that Pastra/Dreams of an Insomniac/Alex Williams’ entire existence will not let me think about almost anything else for the next while lmao ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ The fixation made me change my pinned post for the first time in 2 years it’s unreal)

Mini ramble aside, aheheh, RECENT FOLLOWERS/MUTUALS 🫵 NOW IS YOUR SIGN TO GO CHECK OUT FOLLYCHROMATIC!!! It’s a really neat WIP rubberhose cartoon where they regain color to the world by growing as people and a town and it looks SO COOL I LOVE IT I LOVE YOU FOLLYCHROMATIC WHEEEEE <333 Give it a looksie please pls pls

[tsukkismoonlight]

For You, Anything || NakedToaster x Reader

Authors note: I meant to put this in when i posted it hut work got in the way smh but !! This was my piece for the Teahouse collab, which you can find the other entries here !

Warnings: general warnings around breakups, thoughts/anxiety related to self image/self worth

Summary: You've sworn off love. After the way your last ex treated you, after all of the heartbreak, and all of the nights you lost to someone who didn't care, you have had enough. Or, that's what the plan had been. You wouldn't have guessed that a tiny fan server with less than ten members hid someone who made everything feel like all of that pain was worth it. And you, they'd do just about anything.

WC: 1.5k

You can tell that the little server is starting to wake for the night, by the sound of your notifications going off at a rapid pace. A smile crosses your face as you head over to your computer, double clicking on its icon that you had previously pinned to the taskbar.

One by one the messages loaded before your eyes, not that you had much time to read them before everyone was welcoming you back.

Nightowl was the first, as he quickly sent 'Hey hey hey! My fellow insomniac is here!'

'You two seriously need to fix your sleep schedules.' Was Onion's way of saying hi to you today.

'Hello to you too, Onion. I swear i'm trying my hardest' you type in response, before pausing and sending another message, 'Nightowl on the other hand…he's beyond saving.'

This earned an appearance from Quest, who came in to defend Nightowl on the low, 'Lets not gang up on the kid,'

'Thanks Quest, at least someone believes in me T-T'

You hummed to yourself, as another message made its way into the server. Though, this time it wasn't directed at you.

'Well if it isn't the ever so elusive Toaster.' Xyx's odd profile picture graced the chat room as he noted that Nakedtoaster was now active in the server.

'Wakey wakey Toast and shakey~' came Nightowl, quick to reference a story that Salo had told the group some few days ago.

'That again? How many times are you going to greet me with that, Owl?' You could practically hear the half-hearted exasperation through Toaster's message as if he was sitting right next to you.

'Is it better than Xyx always following up with "what's shakin bacon?" ' owl asked next, knowing full and well that Toaster really didn't mind either of the terms.

You took the slight lapse in the conversation to greet him yourself, 'good evening Toasty,'

'yeah yeah evening' he sends, then a short pause before another message from him loads, 'specifically good evening to you though.'

Another smile settles onto your features, as you reread his message.

From there the server seemed to find a good tempo in a happy conversation, talking about some bloomic fan-theory that June happened to come across just a few days prior.

You pull your attention away from the monitor for a moment to check your phone, swiping away the notifications displayed at the top of its screen. Outside of the server, you didn't have very many people to talk to. Sure, you had a few friends from work, and maybe one or two acquaintances that you made when you were still in school, but as life seemed to drag on, the less you heard from them. There was a point in time where you had a previous partner, and you had spent most of your free time with him.

And while things had started off nicely, they didn't end that way. He was controlling, you had to dress a certain way, speak a certain way, you had to take interest in the things he liked. The conversations were never about you. He would constantly criticize you, from the way you looked, to the way you'd write your As. By the time you finally managed to escape the guy, he had stripped you of who you were, or who you had been.

Your eyes glance to the date in the corner of your monitor. It had been nearly a year and a half since then. A year and a half of trying to fit cut up puzzle pieces together, in hopes that you'd get to see yourself again. Eighteen months of pushing yourself past your limits just to pick your hobbies and interests back up. Eighteen months of wondering if you could even go back to who you were before the guy.

A quiet ping from your computer broke you from your thoughts, and you looked to see a message from Toasty in the juicy gamers channel, one that only held Xyx, Toaster and yourself. Its purpose was supposed to be for Toaster and Xyx to talk about ffxiv, but by now it was just another chat room within the bloomic server.

As you clicked on the channel, you saw that it had been Nakedtoaster who pinged you, asking if you were alright, since you had gone quiet in the general chat.

'I'm alright! I was just thinking about something a little serious, I guess I got lost in my train of thought for a bit.'

You watched as it showed him typing, then a pause, then that he was typing again. Finally, he sent his message, 'wanna talk in the voice channel? You can share your thoughts with me if you'd like'

You pause for a moment. That would mean telling them about your ex. Not that you weren't ever open about your past with the server before. But, this was different. After breaking things off with your ex, you had promised yourself to do one thing; to swear off love, at least until you were ready to try again. You didn't want to rush into another relationship, only to doubt yourself again. You couldn't get stuck in another situation like that, especially if you weren't ready to put yourself first. And if you were being honest with yourself, you hardly had the words to explain that to someone else.

Yet, you found yourself joining Toaster's call, easily falling into the pattern that the two of you had made in your time in the server.

"You /still/ take forever to join calls," he smiles into his camera, slightly leaned forwards as they spoke into their mic.

You playfully roll your eyes at the comment, sighing as you did, "Not my fault /someone/ is so impatient,"

"Only because it's you,"

Your breath seems to hitch in your throat. Toaster said it so casually, that you almost missed how they actually meant it. You always seemed to misinterpret their words, everything he said always felt like it held more weight. And despite your vow to stay far away from relationships, you could never shake off the ever growing mix of anxiety and something that you didn't want to name that resided within your mind.

"Hey, you alright? I've called your name a few times now," Toasty is leaned back in his chair again, a worried look clear as day on his face.

You blink a few times, fighting off an awkward smile, mind racing to think of any excuse. When you couldn't form the words, Toaster let out a slow chuckle, as if he had understood your train of thought.

"I meant that as in…well." He paused, a heavy blush spreading across his face, "As in, I really enjoy talking with you and I'm impatient."

"But, only me?"

"Yeah. I wanted to say something earlier, but, I think I might have developed..uh..feelings for you."

The feeling was back. A confusing amount of dread, and content, like oil and water, refusing to mix but making themselves known aggressively.

"Toaster I-" you start, feeling your hands begin to shake, "I'm not…well…I don't want to outright say no or anything but..I'm not sure I'm ready for..well for that."

To your surprise, they let out another gentle laugh, nodding their head as they leaned back towards their mic, "I know,"

"Huh?"

"Well, I remembered awhile back that you mentioned a shitty ex, so I figured that this might be the case if I did confess…which is why I prepared myself." You watch as he fidgets with the short microphone stand, his eyes straying to something on his desk as he continued, "I'm not going to rush you. And I'm not going to make you tell me anything about your past relationship. I wanted to tell you that I like you, so that you know that I'm here, if you'll have me, whenever that may be."

You were stunned. Despite spending so much time with the Blooming Panic server, getting to know everyone, and letting them get to know this new, healing version of yourself, you had never stopped to think that any of them would actually take a deeper interest in you. Especially when you seemed to feel so lost in your own self worth and image, like looking into a mirror that was hastily glued back together. And yet they had. Nakedtoaster had looked at the same mirror, and decided that he wanted you.

You hardly notice a small stream of tears that fall from your face, as you speak, "You'd do that for me? You'd really wait?"

They lean back in their chair again, looking towards their camera with half lidded eyes, "I like you for who you are, and I know that. So, as long as I know that I want you, I'm okay with waiting."

He lets you sit for a moment, not commenting on your tears, or on the way you couldn't believe his words. Toasty was true to their words, they'd be okay with you taking your time, in this moment, and in the next. Something told you that you could trust him with that. Slowly, you let a smile make its way onto your face as you wipe away the uncertainty that had come from your eyes. Then, when you bring your attention back to them, they say one more thing.

"So, of course. For you, I'd do anything."

[spark-my-nature]

Spit & Secrets - JMK

Hi again friends! I got this adorable idea from a lovely mutual on Twitter, and I couldn't help myself. Dorky, awkward Josh makes my heart ache, I hope you find this as cute as I did!

Words: 3.1K

Content warnings: Slight mention of sexual activities, very brief nudity, braces, greta van braceface, lots of saliva, tooth-rotting straightening fluff.

Summary: Something caught Josh's tongue... or teeth, rather.

Josh was a talker.

That much you knew good and well before you two finally ended up confessing your mutual feelings a few weeks ago, the night he’d asked you to be his girlfriend. Before that night, during that night, and just as much since, the boy never shut up. Of course you never minded this, you could listen to his ramblings quite happily for hours, whether you were curled up watching a movie, or laying in the back of the Juck stargazing, or even as you watched him sleep.

That may have been one of your favourite discoveries that you weren’t privy to before you began staying in his bed. His slurred, restless murmurings after he slipped into unconsciousness beside you. An insomniac yourself, he had provided you with a silver lining to those nights you lay awake desperate for rest, in the form of snored commentary. To your delight, he would even answer you in his sleep. You’d squeezed many juicy details out of him about his brothers this way, which you deviously stashed away for a later time.

Josh relished in sharing his every thought with you, whether asleep or awake. Having been friends with him for so long, he knew he didn’t need to apologize for annoying you, and if anything, he talked even more after you two began dating officially.

Which was why, tonight, his silence was so incredibly uncomfortable.

The two of you had planned to spend the night together at his place. The two of you were inseparable, still very much in the honeymoon stage of your new relationship. You had chronic butterflies from Josh, the way he would look at you and smile, the mindless way little confessions slipped out of him amongst his ramblings, the constant flirting as though he was still pursuing you. Even being friends for years, there were so many aspects of Josh that you were seeing for the first time as his girlfriend. Things that you found adorable, things that brought a blush to your face. And so as you two peeled apart from within the warm cavern of blankets and pillows that Josh erected around you, you felt those butterflies returning as he led you to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Josh giggled as he pulled your reluctant body behind him by the hand. “We have to brush our teeth, you ate so many Reese’s Pieces you probably already developed cavities,” he teased.

He flicked the bathroom light on and rooted in a drawer.

“I wouldn’t be talking, Joshua, Lord of the fuzzy peach rings,” you snickered, watching his small form stiffen and straighten. He whipped around and put his hands on his hips, shooting you a terrible excuse for a glare.

“Was that a short joke? You callin’ me a hobbit or something, mama?” His mouth twitched, struggling not to smile at your guilty giggles.

“You said it, not me,” you bite your lip as you looked up and away innocently. His expression gave out into a goofy grin, and he handed you a fresh toothbrush from his drawer. You took it and closed your eyes with a contented hum as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. You watched him turn on the tap, mumbling about how he had such a mean girlfriend, contradicting himself with a lovesick smirk. He squeezed toothpaste onto his brush (way too much, causing you to stifle a snort of laughter), and wet it before stepping aside for you to do the same.

Muffled around his foaming white lips, he questioned, “Whah?” a trickle of toothpaste slipping down his chin. You giggled harder and he furrowed his brow, glancing in the mirror. His cheeks flushed pink and he quickly swiped at his chin, turning away. You got your brush out of the package, dunking it under the tap, and squeezing an appropriate, adult amount of toothpaste out. Then you dipped your brush back under the water. He quirked an eyebrow at you, stepping forward to spit into the sink. You started brushing, allowing yourself to smile at the domesticity of the moment.

Before Josh interrupted your contented train of thought, that is.

“You wet your toothbrush twice.”

Blinking out of it, you furrowed your brow at him. “Y-…yeah?”

He cocked his head, smirking at you. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why? I just do!”

“But you already got it wet, and you put the toothpaste on, why would you get it wet again?” He smiled wider and rinsed his toothbrush, setting it in the cup on the counter.

Defensively, you frowned. “I don’t know, it just feels right,” you mumbled around the toothbrush.

He took an empty cup, filling it halfway with water. “But doesn’t the toothpaste fall off?” He took a big mouthful, swishing and rinsing, spitting into the sink.

“No! I mean not usually. A couple of times… but not usually.” You waited for him to turn and wipe his chin with a towel before you spit, self-conscious for some silly reason. You found toothpaste cute dripping down his chin, but you didn’t know if he felt the same. You couldn’t hide the smile when his muffled giggle came from the towel.

“Whatever you say, mama.” He turned back to you, catching your gaze and smiling softly for a moment. He reached out, cupping your jaw. You leaned into his touch, just staring into his honey pools of irises. The soft moment was broken when his thumb swiped along the corner of your lips, collecting the little dribble of toothpaste. You blushed furiously and quickly wiped your face with the towel, Josh’s infatuated giggle ringing behind you. You squinted at him, trying to be threatening, which evidently didn’t work.

“Awwww, look at you, you look like a little kitten all fluffed up at me,” he cooed, trapping you between him and the sink with his arms on either side of you. He leaned into your flushed face and kissed your nose. Your faux-glare morphed into a reluctant smile under his tender gaze and you looked up at him through your lashes. His soft smile widened and you giggled softly, pecking his lips to show all was forgiven in your silly war. Not letting you off that easy, he leaned in for a deeper kiss, humming contentedly. I’ll never get over how good this is, you thought to yourself, smiling against his warm lips. You playfully bit his bottom lip, and he chuckled softly.

Pulling back enough to let you free, he gave your butt a playful smack, smirking at your surprised yelp. You whipped your head back around and eyed him up, biting your lip. “Watch it, Kiszka.”

He laughed and looked down. His face suddenly seemed shy, as a quiet realization dawned on him. Your brow furrowed, searching his strange expression. He blinked up at you and made a shooing motion with his hands. “Go on, mama, I’ll meet you in bed in a second.” He shifted his weight.

Thinking he must just have to pee or something, you nodded and padded across the hall. Stepping into Josh’s room, you heard the bathroom door click shut. You shrugged to yourself and took in his room. You’d been in it countless times, of course, but rarely did you get the chance to snoop without his watchful eyes. You wandered around, examining his bookshelves and trinkets. On his desk you found a polaroid selfie you had taken of the both of you, long before you started dating, taped to the attached shelf’s wall. In the photo, your smiling face was looking at the camera, but Josh’s eyes were looking at you.

Your heart fluttered, recognizing the look he was giving you. It was the same look he gave you when he took you to prom, the night he asked you out, and the look he had just given you in the bathroom, toothpaste plastered to your face. Your smile was splitting your face when you recognized the expression. Love. Neither of you had said the words yet, too timid to admit it so soon, but you knew it was exactly how you felt. You were hopelessly in love with Josh, to the point it physically hurt your heart. Forget a crush, you’d fallen for Josh a long time ago, certainly way before he finally asked you out.

Looking at the picture, you felt another tick of confirmation that he felt the same way, and your heart threatened to beat out of your chest. You bit your lip, inwardly squealing like a middle schooler.

The bathroom door clicked open then, and you hurriedly put the photo back in place, darting across the room and sitting on the edge of his bed. Josh walked in, unusually stiff looking, and gave you a close-mouthed smile. You smiled back and patted the bed beside you invitingly. He nodded and held up a finger. You giggled, “what is it?” You watched him open his dresser and pull out an old t-shirt, walking over and handing it to you bashfully. You took it and smiled up at him.

 “For me? Joshy, you shouldn’t have.” His hand rose to his mouth, covering his smile as he laughed softly. You eyed his behaviour, smile falling slightly, and he took notice, looking away and walking to the other side of the bed. You stood, turning your back to him as you quickly pulled your shirt off, and unclasped your bra, smirking when you heard his breathing hitch. He’d familiarized himself with your body over the last few weeks, but he still couldn’t believe how lucky he was every time he saw you undress. You pulled on his soft, worn-out old shirt, falling over your torso loosely, and turned back around, biting your lip at his blushing face, watching you closely. Teasingly, you hooked your thumbs in your leggings and pulled them down. Josh sucked his bottom lip, gaze unwavering, and you walked over to the bed, stopping to wave a hand over his eyes.

“Earth to Joshua?” you snickered. He blinked and looked down, smiling into his sweatpants covered lap bashfully. You climbed into bed beside him, leaning up on your elbow, facing him. “You gonna wear all that to bed?” Your hand reached over and stroked his thigh.

His eyes darted across the room, unsure where to look. “Mhmm,” he nodded, another close-lipped smile not meeting his eyes. Your face twisted in concern.

“Baby? Are you okay?” You searched his face for any answers to his disconcerting silence. His eyes met yours, and he nodded quickly. You noticed a slight blush spreading across his cheeks and nose. You sat up, face level with his. “Did… did I say something wrong?” You furrowed your brow, starting to worry. Had you taken a joke too far? Done something wrong? Forgotten to do something?

Your face must have given away your panic, because Josh cupped your face gently, urging you to look at him. Your eyes met, and his softened as he smiled reassuringly at you. Still, he said nothing. Your brow furrowed. “Are you holding a frog in your mouth or something?” You chuckled.

His eyes widened and he turned his head away from you, letting out a surprised laugh, hiding his face from you. You grabbed his chin, turning him to face you again. His eyes were nervously darting back and forth between yours.

You sighed. “Why aren’t you talking, damnit? You never stop talking, and baby I love that about you, but right now you’re freaking me out,” you took his hands in yours and playfully shook them for emphasis. You didn’t realize your slip, but Josh’s eyes widened slightly. His face dropped, and his thumbs ran over your knuckles.

Josh let out a soft sigh, and he shook his head once to clear his head. You braced yourself for whatever he was going to tell you. He had a secret third nipple. He wanted to roleplay as a French maid. He wanted to quit the band and become an ostrich farmer. You were ready for anything, you thought.

What you weren’t prepared for, was the tiniest, shyest mumble you’d ever heard from Josh’s lips. His words thick with spit, lisping around the object in his mouth.

“I’m shorry, it’sh jusht my retainer…”

You blinked, letting his words sink in, and you honestly thought your heart might explode with love. This was it, this was the single cutest thing you could have ever imagined. Your idiot, golden retriever boyfriend, your ray of sunshine man, practically cowering before you in shame because of… a retainer. You sighed deeply in relief, the biggest smile stretching across your face, feeling stupid that you hadn't thought of this before. He told you he had braces as a kid, even griped about them alongside Jake many times, of course he had to wear his retainer.

He chanced a look up at you, expecting you to be grossed out, turned off, confused. He was met with none of that, instead, his heart flipped at the lovesick expression you had for him. His features softened as he waited for you to answer him.

“Josh… baby why didn’t you just say so?” You giggled, reaching up to cup his jaw. “I thought you were gonna tell me you were wanted in thirty states for tax evasion or something.”

He giggled, still keeping his lips together. This time he spoke, not hiding his face from you, the clear but thick plastic mold around his perfect smile poking out between words. “It’s just so awkward, I wasn’t sure if you’d be like… weirded out by it,” He shrugged one shoulder bashfully.

You shook your head and stroked your thumb along his jaw lovingly. “Of course not, babe!” You looked down with a shy giggle. “I think it’s really cute.”

His blush deepened and he couldn’t mask his smile, then. You bit your lip, inwardly losing your mind over how adorable your boyfriend was. His retainer was clear, but fogged up from the moisture in his mouth. He resembled a hockey player, with a mouth guard in, but much less aggressive. If you thought the dork you fell for couldn’t get any cuter, you were proven wrong.

“Yeah? You think I’m cute, mama?” He poked your shoulder, clearly loving the blush on your cheeks. Both of you were flushed, giggling messes, like teenagers playing truth or dare. You nodded, biting your lip at him flirtatiously. He sat up straighter, raising an eyebrow. He opened his jaw, and flicked his tongue up to the roof of his mouth, using it to pop down the retainer off his top row of teeth, strings of saliva connecting the plastic to his blinding white smile. Both of you snorted and burst out laughing maniacally, any remaining tension broken with his goofy display. “How about now?” Josh asked through laughter. Your giggles eventually died down and you pulled your boyfriend down overtop of you by his soft curls. Half leaning over you, he looked one leg over your knee and rested his hand on your cheek. He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, the hard plastic limiting the movement of his kisses. You didn’t care, kissing him back lazily.

He pulled away slowly, fluttering his eyes open to meet yours. His eyes flitted focus from left to right, searching your gaze.

Quietly, but deeply and with certainty, he spoke. “And here’s idiot me, thinking that I couldn’t be more in love with you.” Your eyes remaining locked with his, you felt your stomach do an award-winning gymnastics routine.

“I don’t think there’s words for how much I love you, Josh.” You heard him take a deep, albeit shaky breath, and his eyes closed softly as an ear-to-ear smile broke across his perfect face. He let out a joyous, incredulous little laugh, locking eyes with you again. He broke away for just a second, reaching to the nightstand. Returning to his position, you realized he had grabbed a Kleenex. You watched him dart his eyes up to yours and shyly back downward while he spit his retainer out into the Kleenex, wiping his lips off with it and setting it on the nightstand.

“Didn’t want that to get in the way, ” he gave you a cheeky smile, pecking your lips and whispering, “lover.” Josh kissed you then with the passion and intensity to bring a giant to his knees, pouring every drop of his love and adoration into the kiss. You returned the kiss eagerly, fisting his t shirt in your hand as you got lost in the moment. The kiss wasn’t necessarily lustful, just a physical demonstration of the years of love and pining gone unacknowledged. Josh’s hands slipped behind your head through your hair, pulling you ever deeper into his lips. You sighed into his mouth, absentmindedly twirling a strand of his curls around your finger, and holding his warm neck close to you with your arm.

Eventually, Josh pulled back, panting softly. His dazed expression made you giggle under your breath, and he smiled softly at the sound.

Leaning his forehead against yours, he fluttered his eyes closed. “I love you so much, mama.”

You rubbed your nose side to side against his, eyes tracing over the faint freckles dotting his cute cheeks and nose. “I love you more, Josh.”

“Oh, no. Not even a chance.” He ran his hand down your side and gripped your hip, pulling you half over him and lying flat on his back. You snuggled into his side, hooking your leg over his hips and nuzzling your face into his neck. He giggled from your hair tickling his collar, flinching involuntarily. Without moving you, he reached over and grabbed his retainer from the nightstand, popping it back into his mouth, secure in the knowledge that you weren’t judging him.

You inhaled his scent and splayed your hand across his chest, feeling his heart beating through his shirt. You pressed a soft, warm kiss into the side of his neck, feeling the pulse there quicken. He leaned his head to the side against yours, and let out a contented sigh.

You both started drifting off, the evening’s events replaying in your minds happily. You were bordering the line between dreams and reality when you heard Josh mumble, in what you now knew was his sleep-talking voice, “Jake… Jake your retainer, dude.” He swallowed, and lisped softly, “No, you can’t wear mine, it doeshn’t fit.” You held back a laugh, curious what else your boyfriend would reveal. “Shtop, that’sh grooosh,” He continued, his face twisting in his sleep. “Ugh, your shpit ish all over it now, ash-hole.” You managed to stifle a snort of laughter, and settled back in. Your mind raced with all the ways you could now torture Jake with this delicious tidbit as you joined Josh in sleep.

[allzelemonz]

RDR Ships Masterlist

Red Dead Redemption Masterlist

Never Again: Kieran Duffy/Bill Williamson

Fictober Prompt: Day 4, Hurt/Comfort Pairing Type: M/M Rating: T/Language, References to sex Warnings: Referenced/Implied forced prostitution, trauma, mentions of past torture, the tongs, Dutch is an asshole, soft Bill Williamson, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, protective bahavior, hugs, internalized homophobia, Bill is at war with himself Summary: Kieran finds himself forced into something he doesn’t want to do in order to make money for camp, Bill is there to keep that from happening.

Little O’Driscoll Dog: Micah Bell/Kieran Duffy

Fictober Prompt: Day 5, Collaring Pairing Type: M/M Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Smut, fluff, tooth rotting?, repressed Micah Bell, kinky Kieran Duffy, admittance of feelings, established relationship, slow sex, kissing, anal fingering, anal sex, marking, protectiveness, possessiveness, top Micah and bottom Kieran Summary: Micah and Kieran spend their first night in a hotel room, giving them both the opportunity to admit things.

Wake The Bear: Bill Williamson/Micah Bell

Fictober Prompt: Day 12, Somnophillia Pairing Type: M/M Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Smut, sleep sex, slightly dubious consent, insomniac Micah, thicc (™) Bill, clingy Bill, established relationship, kissing, marking, possessiveness, top Micah and bottom Bill Summary: Stuck in Bill’s bear-like cuddles, Micah comes across something to entertain himself.

Trustworthy: Arthur Morgan/Albert Mason

Fictober Prompt: Day 13, Cuckolding Pairing Type: M/M Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Smut, established relationship (Arthur/Albert), fluff, kink negotiation, domestic themes, soft sex, gentle sex, masturbation, exhibitionism, cuckolding, kisses, oral sex, blow jobs, anal fingering, anal sex, cuddling, fantasies come to life, top Charles and bottom Albert with viewing Arthur. Summary: Arthur finds himself thinking of a new dirty fantasy and he is lucky enough to have a sweetheart and friend that are willing to help him fulfill it.

At His Lowest: Dutch Van der Linde/Micah Bell

Fictober Prompt: Day 19, Exhibitionism Pairing Type: M/M Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Exhibitionism, epilogue setting, power dynamics, dom/sub undertones, anal fingering, anal sex, bottom Micah/top Dutch, mentions of past grief, Dutch is not mentally healthy Summary: Now that Dutch has reunited with Micah, he has an opportunity he should have taken years ago.

A Dynamic: Dutch Van der Linde/Arthur Morgan

Fictober Prompt: Day 26, Grooming Pairing Type: M/M Rating: M/Grooming, references to sex Warnings: Underage, dead dove, grooming, dark themes, Dutch’s mind is a wasteland, bad father Dutch, groping, head kissing, cuddling, affection Summary: Dutch doesn’t think what he does with Arthur is all that wrong. A/N: Goes without saying this is your extra dead dove warning. This is an interesting dynamic I had read a few fics on and I wanted to explore Dutch’s odd interest in ‘younger women’ that he has in the game. It’s short because it’s gross.

Finding and Feeling

Pairing Type: M/M Rating: E Warnings: Internalized homophobia, canon typical violence, kidnapping canon events, swearing, mutual pining Summary: A retelling of Kieran and Bill’s story. What could have been.

Two Heats (A/B/O)

Pairing Type: m/m Primary Sex: m/m Secondary Sex: o/o Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Omega Arthur Morgan, Omega Kieran Duffy, mating cycles, a/b/o, omegaverse, scenting, anal fingering, anal sex, fisting, riding Summary: On a regular ride, the two Omega mates realize they’ve both entered their heats.

A Familiar Scent (A/B/O)

Pairing Type: Platonic and m/m Primary Sex: m/m Secondary Sex: a/a Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Alpha Micah Bell, Alpha Bill Williamson, Omega Kieran Duffy, Micah misses his brother, mating cycles, a/b/o, omegaverse, scenting, anal fingering, anal sex, knotting, rough sex, toxic relationship Summary: Micah catches a familiar scent from that new O’Driscoll boy, one that reminds him of his little brother. He needs a distraction.

Nest (A/B/O)

Pairing Type: Platonic Primary Sex: background m/m Secondary Sex: background a/o Rating: M/References to sex Warnings: Omega Micah Bell, Omega Hosea Matthews, mating cycles, a/b/o, omegaverse, scent blockers, heat, mentions of omega pregnancy, good father Hosea, hint of John and Arthur being Hosea’s actual kids, background relationships: Hosea/Dutch, Arthur/CharlesSummary: When Dutch’s clothes go missing when Hosea needs them to nest, the older Omega tracks them down. He never expected what he would find.