#trying to go for more of a rythmic feel this time

[hobgodling]

down on your luck, lightning-struck, stuck in the shit and the muck of a city that doesn't feel pity and won't care if you die today or tomorrow. so drown your sorrow in whiskey and wine and whittle away at the slow-moving time until dusk turns to dawn and the sun starts to shine.

lightning-struck - @nosebleedclub

[aerynwrites]

Longing

Halsin x Fem!Reader

A/N: I have been burning with an intense CRAVING for Halsin and there is such little fic about him (although there are some good ones out there 👀) so I had to do my part and add to the pool 😏 hope y’all enjoy!

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, reader is insecure about her virginity, talks of inexperience, love confessions, Halsin is a sweetheart, references to NSFW content. Very very minor spoilers for act 2.

Part 2

The fur of the rabbit is soft between your fingers as you prepare it. Yet, despite having a knife in your other hand and your task being a delicate one, you can’t seem to focus.

Your eyes keep drifting back to the druid across camp chopping wood for the fire. The axe is a large one, heavy - heavier than you’d be able to lift. Yet the large elf manages to bring it up above his head and swing it back down with a grace you never understood how he possessed.

The muscles in his shoulders ripple with each movement, accompanying the rythmic thump of the axe through wood. His soft grunts as he pulls it from the stump he’s using before placing the next log onto the surface and starting the process all over again.

“The rabbit is already dead, darling.”

The familiar voice rips you from your staring as your head whips around to see none other than your vampiric companion standing over you, a smirk tugging at his lips. You huff at him before looking down to the rabbit by your knees and heat rushes to your cheeks. What should have been a simple skinning job to get the meat ready for dinner has turned into a mess. Cuts in the wrong places, the hide nowhere near usable anymore.

You look back up just in time to see Astarions red eyes go from you, to Halsin, then back again. His smile grows. He shifts his feet, one arm resting across his chest as he gestures with his other to Halsin.

“You know, you could paint a portrait. It would last longer.”

Your cheeks somehow get even hotter, as you turn back to the rabbit in front of you, doing a much better job than earlier.

“Leave me alone, Astarion,” you mumble, cursing internally when the elf lowers himself to the ground beside you, arms resting on his knees.

“And why would I do that, when teasing you gives me so much joy?”

You can’t stop the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Okay, well you got me all flustered. So now that’s out of the way, did you need something or did you really interrupt your reading to bother me?”

The vampire sighs, leaning back on his hands as he looks over to you. “What I need is for you to finally jump that druids bones.”

You nearly choke as the words leave his lips, looking around to see if anyone heard and feeling heat creep up your neck once more as you see Shadowheart failing to hide a chuckle.

You turn to face your friend, eyes narrowed. “Could you be a little more quiet? I don’t need the whole camp hearing you.”

Astarion laughs this time, loudly, and it draws more glances than you’d like. You roughly shove the man next to you before he can speak.

“Your next words better be a whisper or I’m going to stab you ” you threaten, poking the knife in his direction.

Astarion places a hand over his heart, faux hurt in his eyes. “You wound me, darling. I’m just trying to help you. Plus,” he gestures to the camp, “it’s not like your attraction is a secret, nor Halsin’s.”

You shake your head turning back to grab another rabbit, embarrassment welling up in your chest. “He doesn’t…” you trail off, getting defensive. “Nothing’s there, Astarion. So can we please just drop it?”

Of course, he doesn’t.

“Look,” he starts, “all I’m trying to say is that neither of you are benefiting from holding back so…indulge, for once. Gods know we all deserve it.”

You ignore him. Curling in on yourself at the mention of…indulging. There nothing wrong with it of course. Everyone at camp has blown off steam along this adventure. Just…not you.

And the vampire must be able to tell too, because at your silence he straightens up, brows pinching in the rare way that shows he’s concerned.

“Wait, have you never…?” he gestures vaguely in the air.

His words, despite their genuine curiosity, strike a chord in you. You stand abruptly, tossing your work to the ground and stabbing your knife in the dirt.

“No I haven’t. Not that it’s any of your business.” Your words are louder than you intended and draw the eyes and ears of your other companions.

Astarion softens, obviously not expecting this reaction. “I didn’t mean to upset you-“

You clench your fists at your sides, interrupting him. “You never mean to Astarion but -“ You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. “You’re such an ass sometimes.”

You turn on your heel and storm from camp before anyone can stop you, ignoring the concerned gaze of a certain druid.

———

The water is cool against your skin as you squat by the stream’s edge, rubbing at your hands as you try to get the blood off of them.

You feel foolish now, storming off like that. But Astarion pointing out your inexperience just struck you. It’s not something that’s ever bothered you before. Especially not in recent months since dealing with the tadpole. You all have more important things to worry about.

But the moment you rescued Halsin…it’s like something changed. You were instantly drawn to him. His kind smile and thoughtful words. His care for everyone and everything in nature.

And he flirted with you.

The memory is still fresh in your mind. The night of the tiefling party after you had stopped the ritual at the druid camp and saved Halsin. You were worried you were talking his ear off, but he was attentive the whole conversation. Answering your questions and asking some about you.

Then he said those honeyed words. Suggested celebrating by spending the night with someone special. Implied he would spend it with you if his mind wasn’t elsewhere.

You withdraw your hands from the water to drag them down your face as more memories surface.

More flirtatious banter and kind words. Thoughtful conversations and fighting side by side. The night sat by your bedside nursing you back to health after a particularly nasty fight. After Ketheric Thorm almost took you out.

Your side still aches with the memory. But the thought of his hands with their soothing healing glow, makes the ache subside.

You sigh, sitting back into the grass as your eyes lock onto the slowly gurgling stream, Astarion words playing over and over in your head.

Indulge, for once.

You want to. Gods do you want that.

You’ve spent many sleepless nights thinking about it. About his lips against yours, his hands on your skin, the sweet words he’d no doubt whisper against your ear.

You shudder at the thought before shoving it away. Because any time he hinted at that - showed any interest in you - you would be so elated before insecurity took over.

Halsin’s views on love and intimacy are no secret. You’d asked him once about current lovers and while he did confide no one currently held his affections back home he also expressed that there were others in the past.

Others. Plural.

And you’ve never been with anyone. Not physically or emotionally, you’ve never trusted anyone enough.

Not until now.

You sigh, frustration creeping back in as you press the heels of your palms into your eyes before quickly standing up. You need to apologize to Astarion and finally, maybe, talk to Halsin.

You turn on your heel to do just that when you run straight into a solid mass. You gasp, stumbling backwards just as two strong hands reach out to steady you, gripping your wrists firmly.

Once steady, you look up to see none other than the man haunting your thoughts smiling down at you.

“You must have been very deep in thought for someone like me to sneak up on you, little one.”

You have to suppress a shiver at the nickname. A moniker he’d given you since you teased him about his size at the beginning of your friendship.

You shake your head, moving to step away and only stopping when his hands let go only to slip down and take your own gently.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I was just…thinking.”

Halsin stares at you for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face before he steps away, gesturing down the first path, one hand still in your own.

“Walk with me?” he asks. “I know being in nature helps me clear my head of even the darkest thoughts.”

You give a hesitant nod and follow him as he turns towards the path, not able to stop the smile when he doesn’t drop your hand.

———

The walk is mostly silent, a comfortable silence, but silent nonetheless. And you are grateful for it, not sure what you would say if Halsin were to ask what has you so upset.

But, silence can’t last forever it seems, because eventually the large Druid breaks through the sounds of nature surrounding you to speak.

“I overheard your conversation with Astarion,” he says, voice gentle. Probing, but not not forcing you to talk if you do not wish.

You stiffen, your pace slowing slightly, wanting to pull away from the man at your side. But his sure grip on your hand keeps you in place. The warmth of his skin on yours puts you slightly at ease.

“You…you heard that?” you ask, cringing internally. “You were across camp.”

The druid chuckles, gesturing to his ears with his free hand. “One of the curses of us elves. Impeccable hearing. Even when we don’t wish for it.”

You can feel your shoulders creeping up to your ears. Embarrassment settling in once more. “You were listening to us? To me?”

Halsin shrugs. “Not intentionally,” he admits, slowing his steps until you’re both stopped and he’s facing you. “But I find my attention turning towards you more often than not these days.”

His words tie your tongue and before you can gather enough sense to respond he continues.

“Nature works in mysterious ways, little one,” he tells you, eyes never leaving your face. “There is no one way to traverse it, and others journey do not define your own. Each one is unique, as it is intended.”

His words are beautifully woven, as always. And despite his cryptic deliverance, you know the meaning behind his words.

He’s comforting you. And once again, he speaks before you can detangle the jumble of thoughts in your head.

“And,” he reaches out, placing a curled finger beneath your chin to urge you to look up at him, “if it’s any encouragement, I seek you out as much as you do me. Possibly more so.”

Your eyes widen, heart stuttering in your chest at his words. He…does he feel the same way? Rationally you know he does. But that ever familiar self doubt, the tiny voice in your mind has always brushed away the flirting - the kind words and gentle touches as just part of his nature. None of it is reserved just for you.

Right?

Halsin smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners gently as he looks down at you. “Is that really such an outlandish thought? That I return your affections?” He pauses, “unless my heart has run ahead of itself and I have misread-“

You stop him then, reaching up to place a staying hand on his own beneath your chin.

“No! You haven’t…you haven’t misread,” you assure him, trying to still your racing heart.

His smile never falters, his other hand finally coming up to cradle the back of your head, teasing soft strands of hair between his fingers.

“That is good to hear,” he says, pulling you ever closer, his nose almost brushing yours, “it puts this old druid's mind at rest.”

Gods, you can’t breathe. The air in your lungs refusing to expel as he lean even closer, lips a hairbreadth away from your own. Your body sings with anticipation, your skin hot despite the cool air ushered in by the sun sinking below the horizon, the days last rays barely filtering through the trees.

“Can I kiss you, my heart?”

Halsins words are soft, barley a whisper and nearly drowned out by the sounds of nature around you and the roaring of blood in your ears.

You nod. “Please-“

The word barely passes your lips before he descends upon you, sealing his mouth with your own.

It’s both everything you expected and completely surprising at the same time. His hands are sure as he pulls you into him, one hand still cradling your head as the other slips down to your hip before wrapping around your waist. Yet his lips, the kiss itself is…soft. Gentle. Loving. The action speaks louder than any words either of you have said to one another. Louder than the words you never worked up the courage to speak.

Finally, your mind catches up with you, and your hands slide up his chest to clutch tentatively at his shoulders.

Halsins still hasn’t broken away from you, and when his tongue brushes against your lips you let him in. You tug him closer then, one of your hands sliding up to rest at the back of his neck eliminating any empty space between you as his tongue slides against your own.

He only pulls away when he must sense your need for air, but he doesn’t go far, lips pressing gently to the corner of your own, and then another to your jaw.

You’re breathless.

Chest heaving against him, as he pulls away just enough to look at you once more.

“As much as I’d love to continue…” his hand squeezes your hip gently, “we should make our way back to camp. I can imagine our absence as stirred gossip with our vampiric companion and..” he sighs, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

You can’t surprise the shiver that runs down your spine, or the smile that tugs at your lips.

“I’m…I’m okay being overwhelmed if it’s like that,” you tell him breathlessly.

Halsin laughs, a deep down genuine laugh that makes your heart sing even as he steps away from you.

“Then I will overwhelm you in all the ways I know how.” He promises, eyes trailing over you heatedly.

Your stomach does a flip at his words, and the effect they have on you must show on your face because Halsin chuckles again, leaning in to press one last kiss to your cheek before tugging you back in the direction towards camp.

“Another night, my heart,” he says, thumb brushing over your knuckles from where your hand remains in his own.

You let out a shaky breath, and nod, smiling as you walk closer to him. “I’m holding you to that.”

“I hope you would, though I doubt I will forget such a promise,” he assures before letting silence blanket you both one more.

You can’t stop the thrill that runs through you at his words.

Yes, I’ll hold you to that promise indeed.

[angelicblondie]

hiii! i loved your fic about lazy days with luke? could you write one for rafe?

hi angel! yes ofcccc! glad you liked it <333 (MDNI)

rafe rarely got days off, which made lazy days hard to come by. but when he did, they were your favorite of days.

there was something so perfect about simply waking up with nothing to do. whilst on most days you were waken by rafes blaring alarm (you told him to change it to anything but the radar noise, but he refused, saying it was the "most effective"), today you got to wake up on your own time. rafe was still asleep, most likely exhausted from his latest work trip, so you let him sleep a bit longer, getting up to fetch him some coffee.

by the time you got back he had migrated to your side of the bed with a subconscious frown, as if he had noticed you were gone and was searching for you. you bite your lip to hold back a smile and place the mug on the end table, crawling up next to him and brushing some hair out of his face. he groaned, scrunching his eyes up as you giggle softly.

"mornin' rafey," you whisper groggily, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. his eyes fluttered open, taking in the sight above him. "mornin'," he replied, looking to the clock for the time.

you cuddle back up into him, handing him his coffee and he sits up to sip it. you decide to just lay in his lap, playing with his free hand and cracking his knuckles. the silence that surrounds the two of you is comfortable, and you quietly hum underneath your breath, looking up at rafe every now and then to admire his early morning glory.

you two spend most of the morning in bed, cuddling and kissing, talking in quiet and gentle voices, as if you two weren't trying to disturb the peace.

you eventually get up to shower, the warm water trailing down your skin as rafe lathers body wash all over you, taking a moment to raunchily fondle your tits and ass, to which you giggle and shove him off, scolding him lightheartedly.

you then washed him, becoming shy when reaching his lower stomach, looking up at him with a shy smile and fluttering lashes. rafe looks down at you knowingly, his lips quirking up and lust clouding his eyes.

" y'askin' for permission?" he cocks his head, bringing his hand to smoothen out your wet hair.

you bite you lip timidly and nod, eagerly waiting for his verdict. he waits a moment, before nodding. "aight, go for it".

you get down on your knees, looking up at him through you lashes as your hands move to wrap around his base, and your lips shyly kiss his tip, not breaking eye contact for a second. rafe groan, before letting out a breathy chuckle. "nah, nah, fuck this. j'need to be in ya," he states as he pulls you up. "sound good, princess?"

you nod eagerly, very pleased with where this was headed. "mhm"

rafe lifts you up, allowing your to wrap you legs around his his waist as he pressed you against the shower wall, placing sloppy kisses on the wet skin of your necks as you whimper pathetically, your noises echoing against the close walls.

rafe aligns himself with your entrance and slides himself in, making sure to look in your eyes as he does so.

eye contact was a really big thing for rafe - there was something so intimate about it that you loved, as well. it was really hot for the both of you, and it got you going each and every time.

rafe rythmically moved himself in and out of you as you threw your head back against the cold shower wall and whined, babbling and begging incoherently.

your nails scratched downs his back as he pounded himself into you, muttering dirty things against your lips, only bringing you closer to your climax.

"yeah? feels good, huh?"

"y'close? is that what your sayin'?"

you would reply, but your words were rushed and blended all together, coming across inaudible. rafe would tease and mock you in reply, saying something like, "s'that so?" or, "oh yeah? tell me more baby".

it didn't take too long for the both of you to cum, not once looking away from each others eyes. rafe hips spluttered against your, and he let out a low, guttural groan, fucking the last of his cum deep inside of you. your head is throw back again, as you close your eyes to catch your breath. rafe grabs your hips to lift you back to the ground, and and cups your face as you smile tiredly up at him.

"gimme a kiss," rafe mutters through a soft smile, guiding you face close to his as you gift him a soft yet steamy kiss.

rafe cleaned the both of you up, and you finished in the shower, drying yourselfs off before simply jump back in bed naked, to enjoy the rest of your day off.

[lichenes]

PLEASEEE do a nsfw fic of reader and vincent having a big fight with some make up smut 🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈

Thank you for the ask :D Second time writing smut bear with me. CW: arguing (brief), p in v, riding, NSFW Vincent Renzi x gn!reader wc: 621 _____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿____

"Fine!" you shouted, red from anger. He groaned rolling his eyes and threw his hands in the air. "Why can't you just listen, sacrebleu!". You ran into your bedroom and slammed the door hoping he would leave you alone for now. Vincent though, was right behind you, opening the door and leaning against the frame of the door.

You sat on your bed your face covered with your hands, the tears in your eyes threatening to spill. "Chéri..." he said unsure of what to do next to prevent further rows. You choked back a sob and looked at him, tears already streaming down your face. "I'm... I'm sorry." You said already forgetting what you were squabbling about.

"Oh mon cœur." Vincent paused and sat down next to you on the bed. "Ma déesse." You looked up at him to say something but the only thing that came out was a sob. He put his arm around you as if to protect you from all the evils of the world, even himself.

You sat like this for a long while attempting to calm your breathing and stop shaking. Through all of this, Vincent put his head to your head and gently kissed your scalp, behaving as if you were made out of porcelain. With his calming demeanor enveloping you, you quickly forgot what it was that you were arguing about.

You both always prefered to talk things through. Rows were your last course of action. But Vincent came back tired from work and you were feeling particularly exhausted from your activities, one thing led to another and you were at eachothers throats.

"Forgive me." He sighed content with your douce form. "I know you don't mean those things." You nodded you head, still feeling a little dizzy. He got up assuring you he was returning soon and brought with him a glass of water for you to rehydrate yourself after crying.

You gave him back the glass after drinking its contents and he put it on the night stand. "Do you need anything else?" He caressed your cheek and gazed at you lovingly. "...you."

Vincent was laying on his back, his head propped up by a pillow. His hands on your hips moving along with your own pace. "Oh mon amour..." he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut. "Don't stop." Vincent commanded.

You were riding him as fervently as if it were your first time. The only thing at the forefront of your mind was making him come to make up for the argument. "Baby, baby... slow... slow...".

"I need you Vincent." You said your voice laced with nothing but pure lust. "I know, I know sunshine, just keep going and you get your prize." You whined as he thrust up into you clearly losing himself in you rythmic movements. Allowing him to breathe for a moment you stopped your movement and immediately slammed yourself down on him, chasing your own high.

"Good... g-god" he breathed out. Your faster movement made you both come in no time. You collapsed onto his chest. You both were heaving and trying to regain your composure. He stayed inside of you even after your breathing got slower and calmer.

"Chéri?" He asked after a short while but you just nuzzled your face into his chest refusing to move. He chuckled lightly and decided on letting you stay on top of him a moment longer. Not long after that you drifted to off to sleep.

You woke up dreading having to get up but when you regained your sentience you already were dressed in clean clothes and being cuddled by Vincent. You sighed contently and got embraced by Morpheus once more. How grateful you were to have him.

_____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿____ masterlist

[rubythoughts]

This can’t be happening.

After all that she went through in her last gane, he can’t be this saddistic.

He can. She is so concentrated on the throbbing between her legs that she doesn’t realize when he’s sitting down next to her.

Her lips tremble with a little quiet moan while the little vibrator stuck between her folds edges her again. Chishiya chuckels as the vibration stops and she is suddenly more clear. Himiko frowns but doesn’t have the energy to move more.

- You find this funny?

- Delightful, actually.

She wants to say another thing but she’s yet again stopped by the vibrations that keep her so painfully close to orgasm. Himiko breathes in and tries to focus on Usagi’s swimming, unsuccessfully.

- It’s been 3 hours, stop already.

His half smile is more enfuriating when the vibrator starts again, this time with a longer hold and she really believes he’s granting her that sweet release. But he’s not and tears slip through her eyes. If it wouldn’t be so public he would actually try to help her come, but voyeurs were never a thing for him.

The tears are too much though, he must have overestimated the situation somehow. She tries to hide a sobb when the vibrations start again, short and repetitive.

- Beg me to stop and I might.

She almost yells at him.

- Please.

- That’s not really begging isn’t it?

- Please, Chishiya.

She is serious and he knows it too, the look on her face is priceless though. So messed up, edged so many times and so willing to come - if he would as much as put a finger on her she might collapse.

- Get up, go to my room and undress.

She is too dizzy to process, but she does it. Anything for the release she’s chasing.

The buzzer starts a few times until she gets there but once she drops her bikkini bottoms to the floor the temptation to just get it out and use her fingers is so big, she almost gives in. She likes the challenge but maybe this time it was too far.

He finds her with her hands almost touching that bundle of nerves in her core, only one more second and she might have slipped.

- Such a good girl for me.

He kneels between her legs and once the vibrator starts once more, his lips - barely touching her clit - form one single word:

- Come.

And she does, while his tongue is now caressing every inch of her womanhood to help her ride the so-long-waited orgasm. She slips somewhere between conscious and unconscious for a few moments and opens her eyes to Chishya replacing the little gadget with his own fingers. He touches all the right spots and his mouth is still on her kissing, licking and sucking every sensitive area and she’s once more tensing with an orgasm.

His other hand is busy with his own issue: his grown bulge threatening to spill any second now, at the sight of her.

They find release together: he hits something inside her that feels so unholly and sweet while she scream his name for the whole Beach to hear.

He’s the one standing up first, wetting a towel and cleaning her after all her arousal went down her legs together with his release now.

Himiko snores softly once he reaches to cover her up with a blanket. He takes one of the books she has around and sits on the chair by the window.

The vinrator buzzes in weird rythms now, discarded on the floor. Chishiya looks for someone in the crowd of partying people.

…..

Kuina is holding a little remote with only one button, staring at it with annoyance and pressing it rythmically. He asked her to hold on to it and not press it but he should know better.

Besides, he didn’t tell her what it does, of course she pressed it. And so many times with no result!

Disappointing.

________________________

Long time no see! Let’s say this is just a thought I had one day - nothing much but I sure hope you like it!

No beta. Smut, explicit content

[spirit-mail]

Fresh Meat

rai_viz on ao3

König × M!Reader - 1.0k -

C1 - C2

___×× follow n send asks so i can write more ♡

"You're so pretty when you cry, König.."

He heaved, raising one hand from your hip to wipe the sweat and tears off his face, but you were quick to grab his wrists and smile. "Don't, I like it." You brought his hand to your chest, his half-lidded eyes flickering between you and your hands. "B-Bitte, ich bin- Ich bin so n-ah.." He trailed off. His hand was two times the size of yours- and you're honestly surprised with yourself at how easy you got him under you, crying from pleasure and blabbering unintelligible phrases in a mix of German and English.

Don't get cocky though, he was, by all means, not an easy fit.. He was so nervous about it too, it made you think that he was so tall to make up for something else.. thankfully, you were wrong. Turns out he really is just a giant man.

You placed your hands on the exhausted mans waist, watching him shiver and writhe under you while you straddled him. His eyes were so expressive, his mouth open as he panted, leaning against the headboard. "I know, you're so- so sensitive, yeah? Even if I just-" you leaned in closer to him, "whisper in your ear like this.." you breathed out. He whined and you rocked your hips against him, resting your head in the crook of his neck. "[Name].."

"Come on, baby, tell me what you want.." you spoke, kissing down his neck and running your hand down König's chest, feeling him shake beneath you."I'm so- Ich- I want.." he breathed out, desperate for any sort of friction between the two of you. "Ich w-will dich.." You smiled, brushing your lips against his. His eyes darted back and forth from your lips to your eyes, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

You caught on quickly, rutting your hips against him. König gasped, the air quite literally flew out of his lungs with just the feeling of you against him, he was too horny to feel embarrassed though- he just needed you. [Name]- please, please I.. brauche es so- so dringend!" he fumbled with his words, too horny to speak english.

"Breathe, baby." you comforted him, moving your hips back and forth in a rythmic motion. He used one hand to cover his mouth, eyes wide and mouth open in pleasure. His other hands grip on you tightened, squeezing your waist- probably leaving a few bruises. You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, barely able to keep yourself up as you snatched König into a sloppy kiss. You both came at the same time, the combination of your sweat and slick leaking through your underwear and onto the bed.

You let go of the kiss, breathing heavy, limbs weak, just about ready to fall asleep right on top of him- but you knew better than that.

This was a simple hookup- not something to last. You both relieved yourselves, and that was it. You slid your previous clothing on, buttoning up your shirt. Grabbing the thick blanket, you laid it over the man, making sure he was comfortable. It may have been a hookup, but it helps to be kind..

You placed a glass of water from the kitchen on his bedside table, placing a thin piece of paper from the complimentary notepad under it and sprinted out of that hotel faster than any normal person should be able to while wearing dress shoes.

König woke up with a start, jumping out from under the comforter and patting around the bed looking for something- any sort of evidence that might prove you weren't just a wet dream. "[Name]?" he recalled your name, repeating it over and over again like a prayer. Recalling the events from last night, König covered his face in embarrassment. He was alone, thankfully- but alone with his own thoughts. Overthinking every single thing he did- maybe he said something wrong? Did you not like him enough- is that why you left?

Maybe you really were a dream- but that wouldn't make sense. Did he get drunk? He ran his hands over his face- as if he was trying to wipe the blush off his cheeks. He noticed, in the corner of his eye- the note you had left. Without even thinking he grabbed it, nearly tearing the paper with the force.

"Sorry I edged you :( 010-000-1110 if you don't hate me when you wake up"

His cheeks burst out in flames of red once again, gripping the note as gently yet roughly as he could with tears prickling out of his eyes. The entire situation was already embarassing enough, and now this??

Well- at least he got your number..

He smiled softly, finally relaxing his shoulders and holding onto the hope that maybe- just maybe, you didn't hate him as much as he thought you did. He dug through his pant pockets, looking for his phone. He eventually concluded that he left it somewhere in the livingroom, changing out of his sticky briefs and into a new pair with some sweatpants. He hopped through the bedroom door, quickly finding his phone tossed onto the floor. He picked it up, unlocking it as fast as possible and adding your phone number to his fairly short list of friends and family.

Leaning on the counter while sipping from a cup of instant coffee, he anxiously typed out your name, trying to figure out what would work best. "[Name] !!💖💝💘💘💌🍒🍬", or "[Name]"?

The answer was obvious. He typed in your name with a simple pink heart, giddily entering in your number. Now he had reached the hard part.

How to text you? I mean- it's not like you didn't literally have sex just last night.. that doesn't change anything, does it? Maybe you never wanted to see him ever again- you put your number there because you were hoping that he would just ignore you and leave you alone forever?

"Scheiße.."

[comfortmechsforverystablepeople]

Write poems and songs, sing them with the mechs

@yourlocalmechanism-dr-carmilla

This is very sweet!

Jonny

Jonny would be ecstatic! You write poems and songs? It's about you?! You want to sing with HIM?!

You will need to calm him down first, because he will jump around withe excitement for the next few hours. At least! He is so happy to share his passion with you.

He will use all his theatrics to give life to your text, duetting like it was his last concert.

Nastya

Nastya would be a bit surprised, but also honoured. She knows how personnal poems and songs can be, sharing with someone is very brave. And sweet, but she will not say it out loud.

She is not comfortable enough to sing with you, but she will gladly accompany you with he viola.

Ashes

Ashes would smile warmly at you without a word. They will be very proud of you.

And also very interested! They aren't one of the main singer, but they have their own song and Toy Soldier had accepted to share some of its parts.

So, they are happy to train. Especially if it's with you.

Ivy

Ivy isn't much of a singer, but that doesn't mean she will turn you down.

Firstly, she can help you to check spelling mistakes, it will only take a second with her brain and knowledge.

Secondly, she will ask you if she can sew your texts into a book. It will be safer, especially with how the others like to... "play".

And if you insist, she will sing with you. Maybe not as good as the others, but with all her heart.

Brian

Brian's heart would skip a bit. This is wonderful!

And you want to share it with him? That's even better! He will do anything in his power to help you!

And as the drumbot of the crew, it can help with the rythmic of your text. Be ready for study time under the stars, because the best time to work in peace.

Toy Soldier

Songs? Poems? About you? Singing with it? Oh this is delightful!

Toy Soldier would be almost as excited as Jonny, but more focused. Its excitement will make it train its voice over and over again, just to be sure it will be in tip top shape to sing your masterpiece!

It will give you its full attention. It knows this is a big deal and will respect it.

Tim

Hell yeah! If you don't count Jonny, Tim will be the most excited about it. After all, his backstory song is the longest and the most diverse! So, he knows quite a bit about writting songs and poems which are personnal.

He will sit down right where you told him about it. His guitare is always nearby so he will try to think of a tune perfect for your masterpieces.

No matter how long it will take, he will help you find the perfect way to sing your heart out with him.

Raphaella

Ooh! That's new!

She isn't usually the one asked to help with this kind of stuff, but she is very happy! Mind her wings, because she will flap widely for a while because of her excitement.

Get comfy, because you will test with her every tunes, every phrases, every words, until it is perfectly to your tastes.

Marius

Marius is very moved. Usually, peope avoid him when they want to share something personnal, despite being the doctor and theapist aboard.

He will find the best spot to work with you, with lot of drink to stay hydrated, it's important!

He can also help you to analyze what you wrote and what are you inner feelings. ... alright being it's therapy. But it's a good one! And maybe you could make him open up to you while working.

Aurora

Aurora is buzzing with excitement. She knows you are working on it, but she never intruded. But now it is done and you want to share with her! Hooray!

Sadly, she can't quite sing like you do, and need. But it doesn't mean she can't help! She will prepare the record room just for you. And she will keep everyone behaving so you don't have to worry to be interrupted.

She is the best assistant you can ask for!

Scuzz

You want to... sing with them? You are aware they don't sing? Okay. Cool.

... Alright, they can go fetch their cello. It would be a waste to not put what you write in song.

Pretty good stuff if you ask them. And trust them, having to hear Jonny bragging about his writting and dealing with a bunch of theater kids gave them the experience.

You are good at it.

Carmilla

Alright, here's the third most excited. Singing personnal songs is her whole thing! The way she copes! So, sharing with you is a big deal for her.

She tries her best to stay focus and lets you take the lead, but she is so happy that she can get distracted or overwhelming. Don't hesitate to tell her to back down.

This will turn into a music lesson if you start to ask a lot of questions and ask questions!

Lyfrassir

What makes you think they can sing? Not like they wouldn't try for you! But it's just... odd to ask them. Usually, Jonny and Marius sing about his own "personnal" songs.

They will try to be as respectful and mindful as possible. They are not poet or singer, but they understand how art can help you.

Maybe they will ask you in the future to help him with his own coping art.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Purring Bonus Scene - Part 2

Jaskier grew used to hearing Geralt purr. He purred when they were sitting by the campfire after a good meal. He purred when he had a quiet moment to sit in the sun. He purred when Jaskier was able to convince him to let him rub his back. He purred when he was able to soak in a hot bath after a hunt. And he purred as he lay in bed or on his bedroll, listening to Jaskier quietly work on one of his songs.

He purred when he was happy, so it confused Jaskier when the bard heard him make a sudden, short purr while they were in a crowded market. There were people everywhere, talking, laughing, haggling, and singing. Jaskier was loving all the activity and bustle. There was so much to see, and so many people to talk to.

Geralt started to get uncomfortable. There were too many f***ing people. They were too f***ing close. There was too much f***ing noise. There was just too much going on. He wanted to leave. Now. But they also needed supplies.

A man jostled him by accident, bumped by another market goer, and Geralt made a noise...

Jaskier looked at Geralt when he heard him purr suddenly. The Witcher was glaring at a man who was very quickly stammering appologies and trying to disappear into the crowd.

What the h*ll...?

That purr hadn't sounded like his regular purr. It was deep and rolling. And if Jaskier hadn't had such a good ear for sounds, he would have thought Geralt was growling or 'Hmm' ing threateningly.

Geralt had growled at people before. It was very useful as a warning to stay away, to scare most common folk away, and to express annoyance.

Jaskier had been on the receiving end of a growl several times when his chatter got on Geralt's nerves.

Geralt had been growling at people all morning. They had been bumped and jostled several times already, and Jaskier figured that Geralt was starting to reach the end of his patience.

But that purr concerned him.

He noticed the way Geralt shifted restlessly, pupils dilating slightly as he met his eye, throat working to hold back another purr. Something was wrong. Geralt never purred in public.

Jaskier switched to using Handspeak. He held one hand out, palm up, and shook it horizontally, then curled his fingers into a fist, leaving his thumb and pinky extended, then tapped the sign against his chin.

(What's wrong?)

(I want to leave.) *weird purr with visible effort to cut it off*

(Trouble?)

Geralt's movements were stiff, (No, I just...) *more weird purring* (Let's just go-!)

A man stumbled and bumped into him just then, and Jaskier saw Geralt barely keep himself under control. Geralt ugly growled but managed to keep his arms at his sides when he really wanted to shove the man across the square.

"My apologies, Master Witcher!" The man stammered, clutching his cap and backing away as Geralt gave him a severe scowl. Other people were now giving them wide berth and eyeballing them nervously.

Geralt huffed and twitched his head, signalling for the man to go. The man backed away, bobbing his head in a storm of frantic apologetic bowing that made him look like a nervous pigeon.

Jaskier lightly touched Geralt's arm, feeling him bristle, then relax. He was now looking at every movement, turning at every sound, constantly scenting the air. It clicked: Geralt was overstimmulated. It was time to go.

(Let's go back to the inn.)

*suppressed weird purr and a curt nod*

They had hurried back to the inn, Jaskier leading Geralt through the less crowded parts of the market. Geralt had gone up to their room, closed the curtains and curled up on the bed. He pulled the blanket over himself, then started purring. Geralt closed his eyes and focused on the rythmic sound of it, of the steady vibration, and let it slowly chase away the tightness in his chest.

The sound of Geralt's purring was kind of relaxing. Jaskier found it interesting that this Distressed Purr sounded different than Geralt's Happy Purr. It gave his brain an odd sensation. If he closed his eyes, the sound almost made him feel like he was rocking or swaying.

He realized that this deep, rolling purr was Geralt's way of self-soothing. He wondered if it was the equivalent of an extremely distressed human rocking themselves. The thought bothered him. How many times had Geralt done this in his years on the Path alone? How many times had laid in his bedroll, or in a bed at an inn, alone and Distress purring?

Jaskier sat on the edge of the bed, then hesitantly started rubbing Geralt's shoulder. When Geralt didn't pull away or growl at him, he slowly laid down and cuddled up against his back.

Jaskier heard the purr get a little quieter after a few minutes.

After about an hour Geralt's purr dropped off and he got up to putter around the room. He was looking a little bit better. Less like he was five seconds away from biting someone.

Jaskier let him stay in the room while he returned to the market for the rest of their supplies. Niether one of them ever mentioned the incident.

From then on, Jaskier did his best to keep an eye on Geralt when they went anywhere with crowds. He was good at reading people, and he started paying more attention to Geralt's subtle signs of discomfort. When he noticed the Witcher start getting restless, Jaskier would do whatever he needed to do to give his friend some breathing room.

Or just flat out help him get the f**k out of where ever they were so Geralt could find a quiet place to Distress purr until he felt better. Eventually, Jaskier became very good at helping Geralt completely avoid those situations without him even realizing what was happening.

And Geralt didn't just purr like that when he was overstimmulated. Jaskier heard him purr like that several times when the people of a town had been less than friendly towards him. Oh, he tried to pretend that it didn't bother him, but his purr said otherwise.

Jaskier usually gave him his space, and busied himself on the other side of camp, pretending he couldn't hear him. If Geralt started looking too gloomy, the bard would casually wander over and hand him a mug of tea. Jaskier would then wordlessly drape a blanket around Geralt's shoulders.

He reasoned that since Witchers had several cat-like qualities, that surely they would like to be warm like cats did. He would then sit close beside Geralt, because cats liked to cuddle. It worked most of the time. Geralt would get all warm from the tea, and he would relax. His purr would change from Distressed to Happy as he would start to doze off, leaning on Jaskier...

[miistymemorii]

I could not stop thinking about Lawrence going back for Adam so...

hey guys, I was really depressed last night and got really drunk and this is the result. I haven't sat down and written anything in A WHILE (and I wrote this at like 4 am) so please be gentle with any grammar mistakes lol. Thank you and enjoy xoxo

Lawrence Gordon’s body was on fire.

It had started in his leg, of course, the burning that comes when you tear away at your own flesh and bone with a rusty saw. That pain had been reduced to a nagging ebbing, however, the rest of his remaining limbs working in overdrive as he desperately dragged his body through the corridors of the hellscape he had been dragged into. Lawrence swore he could hear the blood rushing through his own veins, his head throbbing, adrenaline surging through his entire body. He could still hear the sound of Adam screaming, which only fueled his desire for escape. THe sounds, the rancid smells, the decrepit surroundings, everything equated to an environment that he wanted to get the Hell out of. His arms and remaining leg helped him scuttle along, and he tried to push any feelings of exhaustion to the back of his head. He had only one priority, based on a promise he was determined to keep.

“I will come back for you.”

Lawrence was far from an honest man, something he had been forced to come to terms with while he was in his game. He had lied to Allison, lied to Diana, lied to almost everyone in his life, but he wanted to be cleansed of his lies. He was determined to be a new man, a “reborn” man, one that kept his promises, especially to those he loved. He had wasted his life in a sea of insincerity and guilt, but he was damned if he was going to let a serial killer decide his fate. He knew he wasn’t a good man. 

“I can do this one thing right”, he kept telling himself, clenching his jaw as he continued his aimless crawling. If he could do this one thing, keep his promise and save Adam, he could prove to himself that he had, as twisted as John  Kramer’s methods were, learned something. It didn’t matter that he had met the man today, he had made a promise, and good men kept their promises. 

The corridor was coming to an end, and Lawrence lifted his head up, squinting through the low lighting to see that there was a door at the end. His lungs felt like they would explode, his remaining limbs threatening to give out, but he let out a low groan before continuing on. The door was a gamble, because Lawrence knew exactly how much more travel his body could handle before it ultimately gave out, trapping him in this sick prison forever. His promise gave him strength, however, as he swung his arm up at the door, latching onto the handle with a tight fist and pulling himself up as much as he could, leaning his weight on the door and flinging it open. His body instantly fell back down, much to Lawrence’s dismay, but a familiar sound gave him instant relief.

When he stumbled through that door, his eyes had instinctively closed as he braced himself to lose his balance, so rather than seeing the outside, he heard it. He didn’t know where he was, but wherever it was, a large truck drove by, honking his horn. It didn’t matter if that truck driver didn’t see Lawrence, because when he opened his eyes and saw the night sky above him, he almost began to cry. 

He was out.

Lawrence was desperately trying to catch his breath, but he knew time was of the essence. His eyes scanned the street, desperate for a passerby to make contact with. He could hear a sound in the distance, a rythmic thumping sound that he concluded was a jogger. He took a moment to really listen, coming to the conclusion that the sound was getting closer. As he laid there at the exit of the building, the pain in his leg began to come back, a nagging reminder that he was losing blood, but that wasn’t his priority. Lawrence cleared his throat, which was a painful act in itself, but when that jogger rounded the corner of the building across the street, officially in Lawrence’s view, he used the last of his strength to call out to them. Of course,a  stranger writhing and calling out in the middle of the night was a terrifying concept, but he prayed that the bystander would take pity on him, or see his condition, and help him.

Lawrence Gordon was a lucky bastard. 

The jogger was a kind woman named Sara, who assessed Lawrence’s decrepit state and saw that he meant no harm but was harmed, and quickly made her way over to him. He croaked out praises and thanks to her as she quickly dialed 911, hooking her arm under his shoulder to drag him away. Lawrence could feel reality slipping away at this point, his eyes growing tired as he staved off unconsciousness. The last thing he saw was police lights before he succumbed to the loss of blood, passing out in his stranger-savior’s arms. 

Lawrence had been outside, but it had been dark, so when he woke up to bright lights, he was something beyond disoriented. His eyes opened, then immediately shut, a headache already beginning to settle in. He tried to focus on the sounds, and let out a small sigh when he heard the familiar sounds of the hospital. It took him a few moments, but he eventually managed to open his eyes and keep them open. Allison and Diana were at his side, and he burst into tears at the reminder that he was safe. Diana provided a warmer presence than Allison, but Lawrence understood, and was ready to beg for his wife’s forgiveness.

Diana called him a hero, which Lawrence questioned, causing Diana to point over to the bed next to Lawrence’s. In the bed lay Adam, his face pale and his body rigid, but Lawrence could tell from Adam’s vitals monitor that he was, in fact, alive. He had fulfilled his promise. 

Eventually, Allison pulled Diana away, allowing for a quick goodbye before stating that she needed to be put to bed. Lawrence reached out for his wife, but she turned away from him, prompting him to think, “Fair”, as he had had plenty of time to reconsider his marriage and all the pain he had caused his wife while in the trap. He was alone in the room, well, with Adam, who had still been asleep after several hours. Doctors checked on Lawrence, and Adam, but it seemed that the younger man was knocked out. Lawrence couldn’t help but continuously glance over at him, afraid that if he stopped monitoring him, Adam wouldn’t even be in that bed next to him, the idea that his own rescue might be some sick nightmare plaguing Lawrence’s mind. Lawrence fell asleep, but only for a few hours before he was violently snapped back to reality after a nightmare in which he hadn’t escaped. In his nightmare, he was still wandering through endless halls, blood slowly leaving his body as Adam’s screams played over and over in his head. 

Lawrence’s eyes snapped open, his chest heaving and his throat raw again from crying out in his sleep. His heart racing, he turned his head to Adam, who, to Lawrence’s surprise, was now awake. Adam’s face was visibly tired, but when he made eye contact with Lawrence, his face twitched into something close to a smile, the best he could give under the circumstances. 

“You look like shit.”

Lawrence let out a small laugh, something that he thought he could never do again. “I was about to say the same thing about you,” Lawrence shot back hoarsely.

Adam looked away, scanning as much as the hallway as he could see through the room’s windows. “How much do you wanna bet I could get a nurse to bum me a smoke?” It was a joke, but Lawrence could tell by how quiet Adam’s usually boisterous voice was that it was a half-assed attempt at denying the severity of the situation they were in. 

“Well, as someone who works in a hospital, I can safely say that most nurses don’t encourage smoking.” Lawrence pointed out. There was an odd sense of pain settling in his chest, a bit hurt that Adam wouldn’t look him in the eyes. 

Adam sighed, turning his head only slightly in Lawrence’s direction. His eyes were darting around the room, fixating on random items. Lawrence remembered this behavior from when they were stuck in the bathroom, coming to the conclusion that Adam was still in a state of nervousness. Lawrence felt another pang of pain in his chest; did Adam still not trust him?

“How did you get out?”

Lawrence sighed. “I crawled like Hell until I found a door. There was a jogger and she called the cops, that’s all I remember.”

Adam was quiet for a moment, before he finally turned his head to look at Lawrence. The two held a gaze for a moment, before Adam let out an almost silent, “thank you”. When Lawrence smiled at him and opened his mouth to speak, Adam looked away once again, causing Lawrence’s thoughts, and heartbeat, to falter. The two men let a silence hang over them, the events of the past few hours really starting to settle in. 

“I don’t want us to forget each other.” Adam said quietly, his eyes still refusing to meet Lawrence’s. 

Of course, Lawrence didn’t want that either. He understood that people who share traumatic events often find solace in each other, and thought he had Allison and Diana, who had both gone through a traumatic experience that night, he knew that the bond he and Adam now shared was special. Lawrence knew there was something about Adam that had struck Lawrence so deeply that it had fueled him to survive, for once, for someone besides himself. 

Lawrence cleared his throat before replying, “I don’t think I will ever forget you, Adam.”

Adam turned his gaze back to Lawrence, cracking a small smile. “Do ya promise?”

Again, Lawrence let out a small laugh, a feeling close to joy filling him that only Adam could provide in this situation, because for the rest of his life, he knew that Adam would be the only person to understand the pain he was feeling.

“I promise.”

[medusapelagia]

A Magnet For Trouble: CH 6 You love me

written for the @billybigbang2024

Read from CH 1,..., Epilogue

Read here or on AO3

When Jason pries his eyes open, he's surprised to find himself lying in a bed that's definitely not his. A soft rythmic beat fills the silence and a familiar scent of antiseptic and bleach tickles his nose.

On his right, there's a white plastic chair with a jacket, a clear sign that someone was sitting there at some point. He turns toward the window, the sun hasn't risen yet, so he couldn’t  have been out for too long.

The door cracks open and Chrissy steps inside, holding a plastic cup of coffee from a vending machine.

"That stuff sucks." Jason chuckles, a faint rasp in his voice.

"Jason! You're awake!" She chirps, sprinting toward him, "How are you feeling?"

"Confused and drugged I think? But I'm fine."

"No pain at all?"

"Just a little sting if I jostle my arm. Did that fucker get my shoulder?" 

If the bullet broke his shoulder, healing is going to be a bitch.

"You're lucky that Billy is a quick thinker. The bullet cut one of your arteries but he stopped the bleeding from both sides by tying together some towels with his belt and keeping pressure on the wound." Chrissy scolds him, but her eyes shine with tears.

"Hey, I'm good." He tells her with a strained smile.

"You almost weren't!" She yells, biting her lower lips.

Jason sighs, whimpering when he tries to sit on his bed, and Chrissy helps him.

"I'm sorry for causing you worry, Chris, but I'm a policeman. It's my job."

"You weren't even on duty!" she protests.

"What was I supposed to do? Let that man shoot Billy in the face?" He retorts tiredly.

Chrissy shakes her head, her blond ponytail dancing on her shoulder, "I have to tell him that you woke up."

"Who?"

"Billy. He's been here all night long." 

Jason grabs Chrissy's arm, "Is he hurt?" He asks in a panicked voice.

"He's ok. I swear. He’s in the waiting room. I told him to go back home and that I would call  him in case you woke up, but he was adamant he didn't want to leave."

Jason takes a deep breath of relief, for a moment he was worried something happened to the tattoo artist while he was out.

Chrissy looks at her watch, "Listen, it's not visiting hours yet, but if you want I can ask the nurse if Billy can come to see you for a moment. Oh, and your colleagues are still out there, waiting for a declaration." she adds, "Patrick seemed really worried about you. He looks like a good partner."

"He's a kind man, yeah," Jason replies, trying to get more comfortable while the morphine wears out and the throbbing pain starts to bother him.

"So... Billy?"

"If you could sneak him in it would be great." He has to see him and make sure he's ok. It's not that he doesn't trust Chrissy, but he needs to see him with his own eyes.

Chrissy grabs her jacket, kisses him on the cheek, and leaves the room quietly, while Jason stares at the white bandages around his shoulder and his chest. Some red drops are already staining the bright white.

He'll need more than a couple of weeks off this time. And probably more one-to-one mandatory counseling. Fuck. He hated those sessions.

He's still sulking, thinking about the gloomy days that await him, when the door opens again. In front of him, Billy is wearing a police jacket on a naked chest and his arms are still stained with the residue of blood. Jason's blood.

"Hey," Jason says, smiling at him.

"Hey." Billy replies, stepping closer, "You ok?"

"Just a scratch." the policeman tries to minimize, but Billy keeps staring at his shoulder like he is seeing him bleeding out once more, "Hey, Billy. I'm good. I promise."

Billy nods, quietly.

"Come here. Please." Jason begs, gesturing to Billy, who is still standing next to the door, to step closer.

With a sigh Billy gets close to the door and steps closer, holding on to the plastic chair as if he needs it to keep him upright.

"You ok?"

"That man shot you."

"I know. It must have been terrible for you. I'm sorry you had to witness that." Jason replies with an understanding smile.

"He shot you. He almost got you in the chest and you kept fighting like nothing."

"It was the adrenaline. But I'm good now. I promise."

"I thought you were going to die. You were so pale and then you collapsed on the ground. I saw your eyes roll back and…" Billy pinches his eyes, trying to stop the tears.

"Hey..." Jason grabs the police jacket Billy’s wearing and tugs him gently toward himself, scooting over with a little whimper and pulling him onto the bed with him, "I know it must have been scary and I'm sorry it happened, but I'm glad you're ok." Jason whispers into the crook of Billy's neck.

"You shouldn't have-"

"What? Do my job? That's what I do for a living, Billy."

The tattoo artist shakes his blond head, "Don't like it."

"I know. But look at the bright side. I'm sure the captain will put someone to patrol your neighborhood now, and things like this won't happen again."

“If I didn’t ask you to come so late. If I locked the stupid door none of this would have ever happened! But I was too eager to have sex with you. Sex, Jay! And I almost killed you to fulfill one of my fucking sexual fantasies!”

“Hey, none of this is your fault.” Jason reminds him gently, “It wasn’t you who was holding a gun. It wasn’t you who tried to rob a shop. And I did enjoy your sexual fantasy.” The policeman winks.

“Don’t you see it?! I’m a mess! I’m a fucking magnet for trouble! I can’t… I can’t condemn you to a life with me! I’m jinxed! Everywhere I go! Everything I do is doomed! And what’s worse… the people I love, they all get cursed!”

“Hey. Hey.” Jason says in a soothing tone, lifting the arm that’s not trapped in the sling he pinches Billy’s chin with his good hand, “You’re not jinxed, ok? Bad things happen and it’s not your fault if they happened to you.”

“But-”

Jason cuts him out, “No buts. What happened has nothing to do with you, ok? I promise.” he whispers, kissing Billy softly on the side of his lips.

“Are you for real? Do you still want to hang out with me even after everything?”

Jason chuckles softly, “Billy, I never found the courage to tell you, but I love you. And I know we promised each other to take things slowly and if you don’t feel the same it’s ok-”

“I do,” Billy says, interrupting him.

“You… what?”

“I love you, Jason. I tried to keep my distance but you managed to crawl under my skin and… I’m sorry if I kept pretending it was just sex.” Billy admits, scratching the back of his head trying to avoid Jason’s stare.

“You love me,” Jason repeats, astonished.

“Are you fucking deaf?!” Billy snarls, but Jason grabs him by the collar of the jacket he’s wearing and drags him against himself, suffocating a whimper when the muscled body of the other man hits his injured arm and kisses him hard and deep.

“You love me.” Jason smiles on Billy’s lips, and the other man nods quietly in his embrace, “This is the best day of my life.” Jason chuckles.

“Are you high? You got shot just a few hours ago!”

“I know. But you just confessed to me that you love me! How should I feel if not on cloud nine?”

“You’re fuckin crazy.”

“Maybe. But my crazy matches your crazy, doesn’t it?”

Finally, Billy relaxes in Jason’s hold, “It does.” 

“I like this new look," Jason chuckles, "Now I see why people are obsessed with men in uniforms. You look really hot.”

But Billy isn't smiling at the joke, he's playing with the hem of the jacket, “I used my t-shirt to stop the bleeding, and Patrick gave him his jacket.” Billy sighs, keeping his ocean blue eyes on the floor, “I’m sorry I think… I think he suspects that there’s something between us.”

Jason bumps their forehead together, “It’s ok. I don’t care about it. I care about you. And I'm glad he took care of you."

Billy nods quietly, and after a long moment of silence he adds, "He asked the ambulance to take me with you. They weren’t supposed to do it, but he insisted and they agreed."

"That was nice of him. Remind me to buy him a coffee on my next shift."

"Oh no, Mr.! You're not going to take a shift for a long time!"

A knock on the door makes them startle, and Billy quickly flees away from Jason's bed. It stings a bit, but Jason understands that.

When the door opens a man all dressed in white holding Jason's medical files in his hands is staring at him.

"Didn't know you got company." The doctor says, lifting an eyebrow, then he turns toward Billy, "If you don't mind I need to talk with my patient so if you could give us some privacy-"

"He can stay." Jason immediately declares, staring into Billy's anxious eyes, "He can stay. I want him here." Jason repeats with conviction and the doctor nods, lifting his glasses on his nose with one finger.

"As you wish. So." The doctor skims through Jason's medical file, "You got shot. The gunshot hit an artery but someone managed to stop the bleeding before you bled out and the ambulance came quickly enough that your blood pressure never reached a dangerous point and endangered your brain. The bullet didn't break any major shoulder bone, which would have meant more surgeries in the future. Your collarbone is broken, but it's not shattered, and we already fixed it during your surgery. All things considered, you were pretty lucky and your recovery shouldn't take long. If everything goes well, and I have no reason to doubt it will, I'll discharge you in a couple of days. I'll prescribe you some pain medication, please try not to abuse those, and at least a couple of weeks of rest. For the first few days, please stay on bed rest, getting up only to go to the bathroom or eat. Keep an eye on every kind of pain you might be experiencing and if you get a fever run to the closest hospital. We cleaned the wound but there's always a risk of infection. I'll prescribe you some antibiotics too, make sure you take those on a full stomach." The doctor closes the file, "Do you live alone?"

Jason nods.

"Well, that's not ideal. You'll need some help, especially in the first days, and if you don't have anyone who could help you I can give you some nurses' numbers-"

"I'll stay with him. I... I'll help him." Billy intervenes, biting his lower lips, "I'll stay if you don't mind."

Jason smiles brightly while he nods, fighting the urge to get up and hug Billy.

The doctor gives him a few other pieces of information before reminding Jason that he needs to rest, and, to be honest, he starts to feel drowsy while he fights to keep his eyes open.

"Sleep, Jay. I'll be there when you wake up." Billy whispers, tucking him under the scratchy covers.

"Promise?"

"Promise." 

But to be more sure Jason grabs Billy's hand and holds it tight while he finally falls asleep.

***

"I heard you are gonna need some help for at least a few days," Chrissy says, while she opens the duffle bag she brought from Jason's home and puts back in a striped pajamas and a pair of brown slippers.

"Yeah. I think so. Are you offering?" Jason asks with a smirk, Chrissy and Jason have always been closed, but not enough to have a shower together. Or sponge baths as the doctor suggested.

"You know I would. Steve told us he would pay for a private nurse if needed, but I don't think it would be needed, right?" Chrissy winks.

"Steve? How does he know?"

"You and your stupid heroic act were on the newspaper's first page, Jason." She sighs, "And you know how Steve is. When he doesn't know how to help, he offers money."

"Didn't think we were so close."

"Maybe you should get to know him better."

"Know who better?" Billy asks, stepping into the room with two cups of coffee.

"Oh thank god. I could kiss you right now. I need coffee so badly!" Jason sighs, making grabbing hands toward the steaming coffee cups.

"That's a five-star service, Jason. Those are from the nice coffee shop down the street." Chrissy smiles.

"That's because Billy is the best, isn't that right?" 

"Don't try to change the subject. No coffee until you tell me who you were talking about." Billy replies, annoyed.

"William Hargrove, if I didn't know you I would suspect you're jealous." Jason tries to provoke him.

"What if I am?"

"That would be so hot…"

"No, no, no!" Chrissy interrupts them, "No funny business till you're better."

"Spoilsports." Jason pouts.

Billy chuckles before finally giving the cup of coffee to Jason, "She's not wrong. You need some rest. Everything else can wait."

Jason nods with a deep sigh. Patrick already took his declaration, the burglar is already in custody and the entire station sent him a fruit basket to wish him a quick recovery. Not a word about Billy or the fact he got into the ambulance with him and Jason is more than fine with that. He's not looking forward to giving details about his personal life to the entire station, but he's glad that the captain finally started to patrol the area closer.

"Gloria told me not to worry about food. She'll have Max deliver you lunch and dinner till you feel better." Billy adds, finally giving Jason his coffee.

"Should I get shot as well? I want free home delivery every day too!" Chrissy jokes, but the wincing look Jason gives him makes her take it back quickly.

Jason finally turns toward Billy, “Did you hear that? The doctor said I’m going to need help at least for a few days. Do you happen to know someone who could stay at my place? I’m tired of this smell of disinfectant and I can't wait to be home.” 

“If that’s your way of asking me to move in with you, it is the poorest excuse ever,” Billy replies with an amused smile.

“But it’s working, right?” 

Billy doesn’t reply but grabs Jason’s bag and moves toward the door, turning toward Jason when he opens the door and reaches out with his hand behind him without even looking, that’s how sure he is that Jason will follow him. And Jason doesn’t disappoint him; he quickly gets off the bed and takes Billy’s hand and when they leave the hospital Jason feels his lungs expand like he had lived all his life curled up in himself and that was the first time he was able to breathe freely.

Billy squeezes his hands gently, smirking at him, “Let’s go home.”

***

Home is just a one-bedroom apartment with an empty fridge and no signs of someone actually living there apart from a little dying succulent plant Chrissy gave Jason as a warm house gift and some dirty laundry in the basket. For the rest the apartment is pristine: no pictures hanging on the walls, no dirty bulled-up socks on the couch, not a chipped cup.

"Holy shit, your place looks like an Ikea catalog. No, fuck that, Ikea's catalogs are way warmer than this. How could you live in a place like this?"

"It's nice, and it's close to the metro station."

"Yeah, but it's so cold and empty! Even my place is warmer than this and Heather always mocks me telling me I'm a man on the run."

Jason sighs, quietly. Billy isn't wrong, he never really put any effort into making his place more cozy. It's just the place where he sleeps and gets a shower between one shift and the other. Maybe he should try to move things a bit, and add a couple of posters, but now all he wants to do is rest. Even just the few stairs they did left him breathless. Billy must sense something because he starts to look around until he recognizes the bedroom door.

"Can I?" He asks, putting Jason's arm around his shoulder before walking quietly toward the bedroom which is clean and cold like the rest of the house. He gently removes Jason's shoes and helps him onto the bed, quickly turning toward the door to let him rest, but Jason grabs his forearm and drags him toward the bed.

"Where are you running?"

"You need some rest."

"You need some rest as well."

"I'm not the one who was shot!" Billy complains, twitching, but Jason's hold on his forearm is firm.

"Come here. Please. I'm too tired to fight. I just want you to rest with me. Can you?"

Billy stills for a long moment, and Jason gently releases his grip, if Billy wants to leave he's not going to force him to stay.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," Jason promises, scooting a bit to let Billy get on the bed with him and the tattoo artist wearily sits with him for a few moments before lying next to Jason. The policeman wraps his good arm around him, moving Billy to rest his head on Jason's right shoulder while he draws mindless swirls on Billy's back.

"I was lucky," Jason chuckles, "that fucker didn't ruin my tattoo."

Billy's eyes dart to Jason's face, "You were lucky you didn't die! You fucking moron!"

"Too soon to joke about it? Got it. Sorry." Jason meekly replies, tugging Billy back on his chest.

"Too soon." Billy agrees, getting more comfortable while Jason chuckles. Billy looks like a big grumpy cat, but the truth is that he was scared out of his mind. Jason will have to ask for some advice from the police's therapist soon.

"Why don't you sleep a little? I'm not going anywhere."

"What if you need something and I'm asleep?"

"I promise I'll wake you up. Now close your pretty eyes and count the sheep."

Billy doesn't laugh but his lips curve a little bit. That's nice. Jason wants to see him happy, not angry, or scared like he was in the last few days. He keeps drawing swirls on his back until he feels Billy relax in his embrace, his body getting heavier and his breath even out. Once he's absolutely sure Billy's asleep Jason finally closes his eyes and falls asleep.

***

The smell of bacon makes Jason's nose wriggle in appreciation. He opens his eyes, finding the side of his bed tragically empty but still smelling of Billy's cologne. He gets up slowly, and steps barefoot into the kitchen, quietly enjoying the view for a little while. Billy is cooking some eggs while the bacon sizzles in another pan filling the air with its scent. He's wearing an apron Jason didn't even remember having while a couple of pieces of toast pop up from the toaster.

"Hey there, did you sleep well?" Billy asks as soon as he notices the policeman standing near the door.

"Missed you. The bed was cold." Jason replies, nuzzling at the back of Billy's head.

"Couldn't have been that cold."

"Missed you." Jason repeats, and Billy turns slowly, grabbing Jason's chin, "What if I have a very bad morning breath."

"I don't give a shit," Billy replies, kissing him like a starving man.

"Missed this as well."

"Me too," Billy agrees, turning toward the stove trying to save the eggs from getting burned, "I hope you're hungry. I went grocery shopping because your fridge was sad and empty."

"Yeah, I'm not really a good cook. I mostly order take-out so…"

"That's not good for your health, Mr. policeman. From now on you're going to learn how to cook and you'll eat all your greens."

"I know how to cook, I can make pasta." Billy lifts an eyebrow, opening a drawer with many premade sauces.

“That’s not cooking, Jay.”

Jason shrugs, “Ok, maybe I could use a few cooking lessons. Especially if my teacher is so hot.”

“Sit down, hot stuff, you’re still recovering.”

“Does it mean you’re going to pamper me? And nurse me back to health?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself and sit down properly.”

Jason sits at the kitchen table, the one he never used before because he was used to eating at the coffee table watching the television, and grabs the fork with his left hand, cursing when the first piece of bacon falls on his t-shirt instead of in his mouth.

“Here,” Billy says, getting closer and cutting Jason’s food into little pieces before feeding him one forkful after the other.

Jason doesn’t complain, enjoying the tasty food after days of plain hospital food and the care Billy is showing towards him, but he frowns when he notices that Billy’s plate is still full.

“You should eat something as well.” Jason comments, but Billy dismisses it, wiping the side of Jason’s mouth with a towel.

“I’ll eat later on.”

“Billy…” Jason calls quietly, gently taking his hand, “Are you ok?”

“I’m good.”

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Billy, please, don’t lie to me. If you don’t want to talk about it it’s ok, but don’t tell me that everything is fine.”

Billy stills for a long moment before finally lowering the fork.

“I… I thought you were going to die… like my mom.” Billy finally confesses, “My father… he hit her and she fell. She told me it was nothing. Two days later she fainted in the kitchen, hitting her head on the counter and she never woke up. And that man… he fucking shot you and you were pretending it was nothing and then you collapsed and-“

Billy’s voice breaks while Jason holds him tight to his chest. The policeman keeps murmuring sweet words in his ears while Billy’s strong facade finally crumbles and he starts to cry. They are soft sobs at the beginning that become louder and higher until Billy becomes a sobbing mess into Jason’s arm.

"I'm really sorry I scared you, babe." Jason murmurs, kissing the side of Billy's head, "But I'm good now. The doctors fixed me and your presence is already making me feel way better."

Billy nods in Jason's shirt, "You don't mind that I invited myself to your place? Didn't mean to be pushy but…"

"I'm glad you did. There's nobody else I would want to have at my side more than you." Jason replies honestly, "I got scared too. I thought that man was going to hurt you, and waking up to you cooking in my kitchen makes me feel better. You're good, I'm good, and we are together. What else could I ask for?"

"So you don't mind if I move in? Just for a few days. I want to be sure you're not exerting yourself."

Jason smiles brightly, "I'd love it,” and if Billy’s smile is something to go by, he loves the idea as well.

[astarab1aze]

⸻ @melancholymirth

Of all the things, Dex had never expected to be called out to by name, to be asked after with pleasantly smooth tones by a man with feathered silver hair and an...air he couldn't quite place but was murky, dark, and wholly alien moreso than charming. It intimidated him, plucked at sensitive nerves he hadn't yet been able to fully manage, naturally shy and equally as anxious - too...nervous to accept the attention right away, buzzing about behind the bar with a damp rag, cleaning up behind Faith and Saryn's every spill, splash, or forgotten tip. Quick on his feet, ignorant of those scarlet eyes haunting his every step, long fingers slowly yet rythmically tapping against the bartop and louder than everything else-

...Tap! ...Tap! ...Tap!

He swallowed, overlapping sounds isolated and separated to make room for his voice, the sound of his breath, above the rustle and buzz of a half-full bar. It drove Dexter crazy, shrinking into the cash register where the 'Collected Tips' bag was always stashed; That man couldn't stare at him as easily, at least, and for the first time in his life, Dex was glad for his diminutive size. He wet his lips anxiously, shaky fingers tugging on the zipper and stashing the barely organized wad of cash. Easy, simple, auto-pilot taking over and finding comfort in going through the motions, counting down as he put the tip bag away, silently self-soothing.

Front-facing customer service was already difficult for him, ill-suited to contact with most folks. Too...jumpy, awkward, with stutters bad enough to render anything he wanted to say incomprehensible gibberish and hands that never stopped shaking. More than that, he was just a secretary...of sorts, or so he thought; He didn't actually know what his position at the bar really was, made responsible for more than just the phones when Garrett and V were off on another one of their vacations. Too general a station, too easily replaced - just the frightful burden with no special talents and a weak will they happened to bring home. It would've been better if he could've just stayed in the back office, studying, waiting for the phone to ring.

He looked up from the register, feeling those eyes on him, seeing them not a foot away now - and, startled, he nearly leapt right out of his skin, nearly squealed, stumbling a step backward, glasses sliding down his nose at an angle. Had the stranger with silver hair done this on purpose, to rile him, wind him up and watch him go? Or maybe, maybe it was just--

What do I do...? I can't take this anymore.

Dex swallowed thinly and cleared his throat, trying his best to appear...normal, unbothered, like anyone else would be, half-heartedly glancing out around the bar and its patrons, between Saryn and Fait-- And back again, affixing his gaze to a spot just beneath the strange man's eyes, ignoring the foreboding jolt down his spine. Garrett would lecture him if he saw him floundering like this again, wouldn't he? He wrenched his hands.

"C-can I h-help you, s-sir?" he stammered, voice unsteady, fingers rushing to fix his glasses, then to tugging on his collar. "I-I'm new--" A blatant lie. "--s-so I'm not s-sure how much h-help I'll be. But if-if you're l-looking for the managers, they're n-not here right now."

Was that right of him to say? Should he have said so? He couldn't be sure, but at any other place, wouldn't their employees have said the same? Maybe he should've called Fait over, or Saryn - he was scarier, much more volatile, and could probably handle any trouble the Tall Man with Silver Hair had to bring. He'd have to keep that in mind, just in case, but what was the likelihood his voice would be loud enough above the clamour...? Besides, it wasn't as if he and Saryn necessarily got along these days; Would he come to help Dex...?

He kept on-

"F-Fait and Saryn can h-help you with drinks. I'm-I'm just p-probably not who you're l-looking for, sorry..."

[madameaug]

Constant Bullshit

Pairing: R&B Singer Ebony x Producer Yoongi

Synopsis: Ebony has successfully made her name a household name in the world of R&B. Her disastrous relationships provide more than enough material to roll out several singles. Peep to learn more about the drama that surrounded the release of single, Constant Bullshit.

Ebony resulted back to a bad childhood habit of biting her nails. She watched as she watched the sound engineer hard at work. She's been in the studio longer than she originally planned, and she reserved for longer. Internally grateful another artist hasn't knocked on the door to claim their time.

It's been a little over six months since she posted on Instagram, eight months since she released any music, and two years since her last album. She's been off the grid. Taking her time to heal. Her last relationship delivered the knockout punch, telling her that she needs to sit her ass down somewhere. As her foul-mouthed grandmother would say.

Her last relationship with a B-list rapper had her outside of her character. Chasing down the girls he stepped out of the relationship with. Heavy consumption of alcohol. Sometimes, I was drunk or hungover for several weeks at a time. Lastly, allowing him to disrespect her body. Posting intimate, private images that the world's wandering eye had no business viewing. Strangers gawked at the most intimate parts of herself, leaving distasteful comments without a second thought. Stripping any source of humanity from her, making her a piece of meat for unwanted advances from sexless men. She promised to take a break from relationships and understand how to love herself.

"You're still here," Yoongi announced himself. Baseball cap low over his face, and mask over his lips. He took off his jacket, leaning over to place a gentle kiss on her cheek.

Yoongi, how could she have been so oblivious to the man forever in her corner. From being a producer under the record label to being her confidant. Watching Ebony scribble furiously in her lyric book at the many demeaning names she had lined up for all those who mistreated her. Not being judgemental for the times when she was weak, begging her ex to take her back. Apologizing for embarrassing him and overreacting. To speak to her in her love language; music.

Music healed her, transforming her months of bottled-up emotions into rythmic melodies that spoke her peace. She wouldn't have been able to do it without Yoongi. Naturally, feelings developed, but Ebony stuck to her guns, promising that they would go slow, that they would be friends and then lovers, and not try to piece together friendship in the middle of love. She was doing it right this time. She was doing herself right this time.

"Malik, is almost done."

"What track is it?"

"Constant BS."

"If I can add it, it's my favorite." Malik turned around, his silver durag peeking out from his hoody. The compliment put a smile on Ebony's face.

"I just hope my fans like it. It's not like my other projects."

Grasping Ebony's hand, Yoongi squeezed it for reassurance.

"They are gonna love it."

Ebony : constant bullshit out now

And her fans ate it up. One side was extremely hyped that their favorite R&B girly was back. On the other side, the song was perfect. Maybe it was coincidental timing, so many couples broke up before the song came out. Well, now there was a catchy anthem.

A week after Ebony released the song, she took more promotional images for the single. Tomorrow, she will shoot a music video. It's been a minute since she was this busy. Outlets seeking to interview her trying to discuss the song. But Ebony knew it would quickly turn into a conversation about her ex. A conversation she wasn't going to entertain. Especially after the temper tantrum he had a few days after the song's release.

Friday night, there was an R&B festival. Popular old and new R&B tracks were playing. Not even forty-eight hours after the song's release, the event's DJ played it. In a cross-faded rage, Ebony's ex stormed out of the event. Ebony wondered what got under his skin more. The fact that he naively thought he was going to have the last word or the idea that people were enjoying a song that dragged him.

Oh well.

Ebony and Yoongi were cuddled up on Yoongi's king-sized bed, watching several clips of his little tantrum surface on the internet. She was in her get-back era; neither he nor her other exs were safe. She had lists of songs in her arsenal whenever she could release them. She was gonna have the last laugh.

Best believe.

A/N: It's so good to be back 🙂‍↕️

[bearratic]

From here / @sanctissimx

It was an easy sleep for the demon, a quiet he had needed since the loud buzzing of last night. Now, all that was heard was a rythmic heartbeat and a lost bird or two. The city yet to wake up, he guessed it was even too early for common folk to rise. He didn't mind, there was no need to move just yet. Why ruin something he didn’t even have to ask for. Why not fully indulge in what was given on a silver platter. Comfort and warmth due to the large frame draped atop of him. Leander’s easy breathing wasn't new but had been missed by his own. It slows his pulse, lessens his vivid dreams of terror. Maybe even makes him wish for its return every time it leaves.

The sticky damp of his skin that was a couple hours ago had dissapeared, dried but not forgotten where it came from. Though the shared room was not filled with unpleasant aroma. It was more weighted with sandelwood, still burning candles and of course, the infamous dried booze of the Wet Wick downstairs. The place bringin Ais more amenity than he would ever exclaim aloud, finding it easier to express a dislike than a comfrot. Ais switches his priority and mind back to the easy breathing of the other, the gentle wind bristles over the muscles of his chest, mixing with his own sigh he finds another thought crawl into his mind, univited and unwanted. Usually it was the ease of a blank mind that kept him at bay longer.

So he finally opens his eyes, the crimson gaze first to the ceiling, then it turns down to the sleeping Leander. The demon's glance trails over the others hair, as brown as fresh eath, as messy as their companionship. The light tickle of it as it reaches to the demon's chin. If he didn't know better, he'd say he enjoyed this. Raising his still free arm, the tattoed one, the blue curving around him. Then his hand, reaching to the same strands of hazelnut colored hair, moving them back to be one with the rest, as he has seen Leander do so many times before. It was strange, being together so often grants the ability to practically mimic the other's movements. Or had he just been watching too often, too closely. Ais states that Leander looks different in sleep, usually he beams. Loud, bright and full of pride. Like a lion. And now he is still, so surreal, so enticing, so easy on the eyes. Normally he'd find himself speaking this out of lust, but this time seemed to differ. Finding himself wrapped in Leander's charm like witchcraft, unbeknownst of its true danger.

Nevertheless Ais knows danger by heart, yet he never listens. So, there he is again, in a shared bed, with no regrets this time. Ais moves his head, watching the light break through the curtains. His hand, completing the soothing gesture in Leander's hair, goes down. The hand trails past the man's muscular shoulders, lingering on the scar that had been born on the space between his neck and his chest. He traces it, feeling all the parts of Leander's body it reaches, letting it play and stay where it wishes to do so. Leander's features are exentrated by the morning light. Sharp and inviting, they're different from every angle. Hanging above Ais and peering down like a bird of prey, now set apart for something vulnerable. But why, why is this man trying so hard for his heart, for his... acceptance, asking for praise for each breath. As if Ais' affection was something that needs to be conquered, kept behind lock and key only to be let out when Leander wishes for it.

Are you just a fool? Are you looking for perfect symetry within one that doesn't have one piece of rest for you. Will you ever make the correct choices? Ais' hand moves again. Towards Leanders back, over his shoulder blade. The touch gentle, nearing loving carresses as it leaves no marks behind except light goosebumps. One more shift of his head and his lips ghost across Leanders forehead. Or am I the fool here?

His roaming hand going to the drape of Leanders back, over his spine and vertibre. His waist, his hips, dissapearing under the covers. "Why do pretty mouths always speak such naivity." he murmurs and it was met with a light shift and a stretch from the other, a sign of waking up. The gaze Ais had kept on him all this time is now met with green eyes, they had something like the spring leafs. So the demon shoots him a toothy grin. "How about you get off me, before your massive frame is forever imprinted on mine." He says, but his body wasn't giving in, it was already too late. That face was impossible to ignore, so Ais did the only thing he could when his words normally fail. You're so pretty. Trailing his free hand back up and grabbing the strong jaw of the other. Melting his mouth and lips against the other. A warmth that had his chest burn and his mind still once again. The demon kisses as if he's hungry, as if it's something he had been waiting years for, as if it wasn’t just a couple of hours ago their lips parted. It doesn’t matter to him, he's not letting go first this time.

[pumpkinnning]

i've been trying new adhd meds (elvanse) and so far it's been the best - gives me more energy, a better mood, no anxiety like concerta did - but i think one of the strangest side effects is that it's been changing my taste in music somewhat.

it does make a little sense because i used to like very intense, emotional, nervous, fast, very upbeat songs as a way to stimulate my brain into focusing (i've been told before that my music taste was "stressful" lmao. peppy pop neurotic breakdown vibes) - in the same way a lot of ppl w adhd really depend on coffee

but now i find myself enjoying slower, more rythmic music - a lot more rap especially which i always was intrigued by in theory but often found like the rythms didn't...accelerate/ go up and down (? idk i don't have the words to talk about this) enough or didn't have a sense of very dramatic over the top emotion/melody so i would end up skipping. but now i really dig it. and also calmer, more melancholic folk with beautiful voices. it feels more chill and enjoyable and almost meditative and helps me get into a good flow. and i find a lot of the older stuff just too overstimulating. i just also listen to music a lot less, which is probably better for my eardrums. and i listen less to the same 3 songs on repeat forever.

It’s just. kind of fascinating to me to see the interplay of brain chemistry and music in real time. It’s been funny how in the past there have been a lot of songs i have listened to on repeat where i was like. i don't respect this artistically and this is not really my vibe but it makes my brain go, so...

yeah i think judging people for the music they listen to is stupid in general. it also makes it more obvious to me how much music can influence mood/cognitive functioning and be a real accommodation tool.

[ultimateissuessimp]

Lost and Found

Chapter 4 -What's there for him to achieve?

Word count: 2,000

Warnings: descriptions of gore (will be marked with = at the moment it starts and = when it ends), mentioned death of a character, trauma, bad writing

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Notes: All dividers that I use are made by me (If you see art that I have used, but not credited - please notify me), you might notice that even though it says "featuring Team Free Will" there's not a lot of them there as one would think. In fact they are not even mentioned by their names which was intentional ince the sotry does not focus on them but the reader and Morpheus, they're the ones that matter the most after all.

Y/N woke up rested. He could wholeheartedly say that it was the best sleep he got in a few good years. Yet when he opened his eyes he didn't immeditely notice what, or rather who, he was sleeping on. The moment he noticed was when he tigthened his hold on it and it moved in a rythmic breathing. The hunter shot up into a sitting position, wide eyed with a blush already forming on his cheeks. He looked down to see Morpheus already looking at him with concern written on his face.

-Are you okay? Did you sleep well? - he asked him, trying not to freak the man out even more than he already is.

-Uh, yeah... I slept really good, it's just that uh... How... How did we end up in this... Uh, position? - Y/N a little worried, because he couldn't remember much from yesterday's evening.

All that he remembered was that he was heavily tired and Morpheus helped him fall asleep and that's it. But he knew for damn sure that he was laying on his side of the bed, on his pillow and under his blanket. Yet somehow now he was on Dream's side of the bed, using his shoulder as his pillow and Morpheus's arm around him as some sort of a blanket.

-You move a lot in your sleep. You know that, correct? - Morpheus asked to which he got a nod in return. - I would say that your... Unconscious self missed the feeling of someone else laying close to you, like we did when we were - he couldn't finish his sentence before Y/N interrupted him.

-Please... Please, just don't finish that sentence, Morpheus... I know what you're tryig to say, but I don't know why you're saying what you're saying. You stated yourself that you wanted nothing to do with me no more and I respected it, even though it hurt my heart, soul and brain to do so. But I did and now you're saying all those words as if you were trying to go back to something that is on the other side of a collapsed bridge... - the hunter said, his voice breaking on certain parts of his speech.

He couldn't understand what Morpheus was trying to achieve with bringing the past back. Both of them agreed that what was between them was gone and that they should just forgt and move on. So why now? Why after all this time he decided to just try and create chaos in Y/N's life once more?

-You're not the only one hurting, Y/N... What I said in the past was... Wrong of me, I know it, but both of us were angry, we said things we didn't actually mean... And I wish I could take all of them back, to let you explain instead of attacking you like I did, but I can't. So now I can only hope to at least making you know that I deeply regret every hurtful word that I threw your way - Morpheus said with a solemn look on his face as he got off the bed and walked a few steps towards the hunter that at the same time took those few steps back, creating some space between them.

-I think this is the first time that I hear you apologise... I honestly had no idea you were even able to do so, but... It's a welcomed change nontheless. But you're right... What got said is a past, a one that you cannot change and the thing is... If I got the chance to go back in time and do something different way, I wouldn't. Because no matter how much I have loved you, my back was against a wall and they made me choose. The difference was that I knew that you could withstand it, you're strong... But my niece? She was only a child... I couldn't leave her to die, no matter how much it has hurt me to leave YOU - Y/N said, tears gathering in his eyes.

He couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth, it's like his brain wanted him to finally spill what he was feeling for all this time. Yet he quickl came to his senses, shaking his head and wiping away the small tears thtat threathened to spill with the back of his hand.

-Could we just... Go back to researching please? This isn't the best time to have this talk - he added.

-And when will be the right time? After all of this? When you go back to avoiding me at all cost and me acting like you don't exist? When Y/N? - Morpheus proceeded to push, trying to get an answer out of the hunter.

-I don't know! I don't know okay?! Just not... Not now - the H/C haired man sighed, ruffling his bed hair with his hand and then swiftly walking over to the table that still had his laptop ontop.

-Well, this is really awkward... - Matthew, that was still laying on Morpheus's pillow, said and decided to hop off, stretch his wings for a bit. He flew up onto Dream's shoulder. - Boss, do you mind if I went back to the Dreaming? You could just summon me back if I was needed. I... Feel like I would be intruding whatever is going between you and the mister cuddle bear over there - he added and got a glare not only from Morpheus but also Y/N.

He shuddered at their gazes but quickly flew away through an opened window when he got his boss's approval. He was so done with drama for today, but he will definietly gossip with Lucienne about all of what happened. How could he not?

Y/N sat on the chair that was pulled out from the table and opened up the device in front of him. It immediately powered up being previously just closed and not turned off completely, showing up the latest research on the screen. The hunter got back to his work that he abandoned yesterday, reading articles and looking through every information he gets his hands on, he even reads some newspaper that was left my the hotel staff before they got their room. After half an hour he finally found something. A woman came in contact with the Nightmare, but described it as a shapeshifting monster that took the form of her husband that it killed.

She and her neighbor got interviewed by the newspaper's journalist a few hours after the incident. =She said that she only found out that her husband was dead when she went down to the basement to do some laundry and saw his mutilated body.= She screamed and tried to run up the stairs and get out of the basement but got face to face with the being she could only describe as horrific and simply taken out of a horror movie. Her screams were heard by her neighbor which came to her rescue, not noticing anything strange seeing her "husband" in the kitchen just looking out of the window.

He thought of it as weird but quickly opened up the basement door, releasing the woman who was begging and crying about her husband being dead. The confused neighbor tried calming her, saying that her husband was well in the kitchen, but when he looked to the side, the "husband" was gone. The shaken up wife ran to the staionary phone and called 9-1-1. When police came, they found a still crying and shocked woman, sitting on the floor and the neighbor next to her, trying to comfort her as much as he could. She only pointed at basement making the policemen go down the stairs and see the gruesome scene in front of them. One of the policemen vomited at the sight and quickly got away from the body.

They questioned the wife, but didn't get out anything from her that could tell them what happened. They had to wait for a crime scene coroner to tell them the reason of his death, what caused it. The answer that they got was that it wasn't possible that a human has done that, especially not the petite wife. Because of the mental damage that happened to the woman and her saying that something was impersonating her husband, she got sent to a mental institute and the crime never got solved. According to the date on the newspaper it happened a few days ago.

-I got something that we could check... It's worth a shot even if we don't get anything specific, the woman is in a poor state - Y/N said standing up from his seat and closing the laptop. He went over to his clothing bag and took out some clothes, this time going to the bathroom to change. When he got out he walked over to the table again and took the newspaper into his hand. - We should go there and ask her some questions. Maybe she will tell us something that she hasn't said in the interview - he added.

-Very well. Let us get there. What is the name of the institute? - Morpheus asked awaiting an answer so he could deport them to the place. He only got a look and a short answer containing "No, Morpheus, we're going to get there my way". He sighed but nodded.

The two men walked to the door and Y/N opened them taking a step outside, nearly colliding with someone standing in front of him, but he stopped quickly, shifting his gaze from the floor to the face of his blockade seeing the chevrolet driver. His eyes went wide for a second before changing into an annoyed glare. He also noticed the two other man behind the blonde.

He quickly analyzed the men, seeing the hidden gun behind the jeans and a belt of the blonde and an anti-possesion tattoo on the slightly exposed chest of the tallest one. He also felt a weird sensation going through his body as he looked at the black haired man in a trench coat. He was also looking at Y/N with a confused face and a tilted head, a if he was trying to find out what was hiding in the hunter's mind. Y/N felt the proding and realised that the man tried to read his thoughts and he blocked him out right away. His blue eyes widened feeling the rejection from the hunter's mind and look behind him, now looking at Morpheus, feelind the divine power radiating off of him, not even tryng to read his mind, kowing that it could be a mistake.

-Sorry, didn't mean to almost walk into you - Y/N said cautiously taking one step back, his back colliding gently with Dream's chest. He tried making some space for the three men to walk by and they did without a word. H/C haired man scoffed and only got an apologetic look from the brown haired man as they were walking away.

-Did you feel it? - Morpheus asked the hunter, wondering if he also felt the weird static that surrounded the three men. Well, two men and one angel as he deducted.

-Yes. Hunters, monster hunters. The third one is something else though... He tried to read my mind, but I didn't let him. What could he be... An angel maybe? But why whould hunters willingly walk around with an angel beside them? - He pondered on the question. - You know what? I bet they are also looking for our lost Nightmare... That means that right now they could be going to that woman from the newspaper. We have to be there before them... Eh you... You could deport us there... I admit that it will be faster... - Y/N added. With that Morpheus reached for his pouch of sand, took some out and spread it around them, closing them inside a sand cyclone. And just like that, they were gone.

[zooophagous]

 Strauss paced the halls with a chipper clip of a cane on the hard linoleum. He didn't really want to use a cane, but the doctor wanted him on a crutch or in a chair, and this was a compromise. When Artemis mentioned the cane looked distinguished, he eventually submitted to it. Utility aside, it was fun to use, the rythmic clicking did have a satisfying sensory feedback to it. And really, he needed exercise.

It wasn't the exercise he wanted. It wasn't a self defense class. It wouldn't help him learn to properly fight back. It did free up a bit of time for his mind to wander and plot his next move. Any activity was better than bed rest.

He passed the commisary and paused and backed up and peered inside. Troy was there, eating alone. Strauss changed trajectories and approached him. He looked glum.

"Herr Cunningham. Guten abend. I've missed you."

"Hey Strauss." Troy replied listlessly. "Sorry I've sort of been avoiding you."

"Yes, the infirmary is incredibly boring without good company. May I sit?"

"Please."

Strauss sat down next to him. "I was worried I had done something to insult you. Some very terse words were exchanged on our last outing, and perhaps I owe you an apology."

"It's not that." Troy sighed. "I don't know a good way to explain it. There's just a lot on my mind."

"Do you want to talk about it? Perhaps over some light exercise? Sparring?"

"Sparring?" Troy snorted and looked up incredulous. "Sparring between a lycan and a vampire isn't what most folks would consider 'light,' ya know."

"Maybe so. But I am eager to begin self defense training, and I believe you may benefit from it as well. Besides, it is more fun with a friend than with a dummy."

"Aren't you still recovering from surgery? You sure I won't break you?"

"I would like to see you try, Cunningham." Strauss smirked.

Troy furrowed his brow at the challenge. "Oh, ok, ok, it's like that. Sure, let's dance then."

Strauss clicked down the hall with Troy in tow. He hadn't had a chance to demonstrate the effects of his new diet to Troy, just yet. He hid a mischeivous glee under a stoic facade. He'd catch him by surprise. Exercise might not banish depression, but it would help.

Strauss found his way to the supply locker and picked out a set of large, padded gloves. They were meant for humans to practice kickboxing, an art he'd become recently interested in- but no doubt this equipment wouldn't withstand the full wrath of a lycan.

Luckily Troy didn't seem to have the energy to unleash his full wrath at the moment, so it would do.

"You may go first. Take your frustrations out on me. Hit as hard as you please, I can take it." He slid his hands into the targets and held them up, ready to catch a punch.

"I don't know that that's a great idea, bud."

"Please. As a doctor, I am perscribing you exercise, and I believe it would be good for you. You have much on your mind, I can tell. Beat it into submission."

Troy reluctantly balled up his fists and threw a limp punch into the target.

"That is not the strength of a lycan. Again."

"Oh fine." He threw a marginally harder punch. Still holding back, but he at least now had some 'pep in his step' about it. Strauss allowed him to warm up.

"I get the feeling the incident of our last outing weighs heavily on you." Strauss talked between blows. "You haven't been yourself. You also haven't been much company. Are you angry with me?"

"No, it's not like that. I'm not angry at you." He threw another firm punch. His fist connected with the boxing target with a loud, satisfying clap. "I'm angry at the situation."

"But I am part of that situation." Strauss braced himself a little harder. Troy was coming out of his shell, and he was slowly becoming more of a match. "I am a sensitive creature, Troy. I know when someone is avoiding me. Please tell me if it is something I can fix."

"You can't fix anything. None of this is your fault." He punctuated 'fault' with another heavy blow."I guess I'm just mad that I put so much effort into myself, you know? So much effort into treatment and being normal and getting myself under control, and right when I was starting to get out of here I have to go right back in for shit that isn't my fault."

Boom, boom. A double punch into Strauss' waiting hands.

"I see. And even if I didn't mean to be, I am the catalyst for that problem."

"It's not fair to blame you for it though."

"But you still do."

"I won't lie to you Strauss, I don't blame you but I resent it. I resent that things got fucked up just from you being here."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What are you going to do, leave? You did that once, and things got exponentially worse already. At least you're trustworthy though. You actually WORK on yourself."

He furiously threw a punch into the target. Strauss found himself backing up.

"Sylvain is out here actually causing the problem, and she never worked on herself. Hell, she went out and got worse on purpose. And now it doesn't MATTER how well I'm doing because other people are determined to fuck it up for no. Good. Reason."

He punctuated with blows.

"Like, what do I have to do to earn the privilege of having a friend over? What do I have to do to make this GO AWAY."

Strauss backed up against the wall. Troy was more than shouting now, he was roaring. This was bad. He could hear his heart pounding faster and faster.

"Troy, I am sorry. We need to stop. We need to-"

"NO."

The lycan beneath Troy's placid surface was beginning to boil over. He grabbed Strauss by the shirt and hefted him into the air with both hands and then turned and threw him bodily across the room.

Strauss landed hard and scrambled backwards. Troy took two steps towards him and fell to his knees, gripping his head in apparent pain, his chest heaving with every breath.

"No no no no I knew this was going to happen. God dammit I KNEW this was going to happen." He whined and grunted. Dark hair begain to ripple down his arms in waves. His nail beds and gums began to bleed as new pieces erupted from inside of him.

Strauss found his feet and was momentarily rooted to one spot. The instinct was to flee. But that would leave Troy to face his demons alone. He couldn't abandon him. Not yet. Not until the bear like being stood up to its full height, dwarfing even the tall tent-pole figure of Strauss himself, and snarled down at him in a way that could almost be understood as plainly as English. Vampires were the cause of the problem, and the wolf had a whole sharp arsenal of solutions.

Time to go.

Strauss bolted down the hall. He could hear the chaos erupt behind him. Nurses screaming, security scrambling, chairs and furniture and other office accoutrements being flung into walls and shattered. Nobody was being mauled at least, Troy had a singular goal. Good, that meant Strauss could focus on saving his own skin. He needed to find Frau Harker. Where was Frau Harker.

Ursula stood thin lipped and silent in front of her dry erase board, the gentle squeak of her marker leaving a tidy row of neat handwriting. She narrated to her class in a droning voice.

"So, if you look at the syllabus, our upcoming anatomy lecture was scheduled for module three, however given our new collection of MRI images courtesy from the lab, we'll be moving that up to next week. I'll remind everyone that participation is graded in lab classes-"

The door slammed open. The handle of it struck and cracked the cinderblock wall. Strauss ran in and over the desks, jumping on them like stepping stones. Troy barreled after him, parting screaming students and flying desks in his wake. Strauss made for the window. Locked, of course, and too heavy to break. He slammed his fist into it. It spiderwebbed but did not give.

Troy grabbed him by the neck and held him aloft in one hand. His grip tightened like a python. Strauss did not need to breathe. He did however have to be mindful of his spine. He grabbed the heavy claw around his neck and scratched at it desperately. He kicked, connecting with the lycanthrope yet accomplishing nothing.

"Herr Cunningham. Bitte." He croaked. He sank his teeth listlessly into the cruel hand.

Thunk. Thunk.

The soft sound of shining darts hitting the hide of the beast cut through the panic in the room. Troy's grip slowly became looser, and looser. Strauss fell to the ground with a reflexive gasp for air.

Troy stumbled and fell, draped like a fur coat over a broken lecture room table.

Ursula ran to Strauss' side. "Mr. Strauss. Are you more dead than usual?"

"I wish." He muttered, and struggled to his feet. "Herr Cunningham needs to speak to a therapist."

"Evidently. Why did you lead him here of all places? Are you TRYING to kill my students?"

"You were the only one competent enough to handle it."

Ursula sighed. "I hate it when you're right." She turned to her cowering students.

"Well? what are you all standing there for! Begin containment protocol before he comes to! Chop chop." She clapped her hands. The students broke from their fearful trance and rushed into action.

"Do you kneed help, Mr. Strauss?"

"All I need, Frau Harker, is a break."