#this is about. gestures at our body. that thing. and its arms and its legs and

[chrepsi]

ˇ ⋆ ╱ sleeping - c. sturniolo

a/n ; THIS SONG. GIGI I LOVE YOU

wc ; 1k+

i should be sleeping.

the room is quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you feel like your own thoughts are screaming. the fan overhead hums a low, lazy rhythm and the streetlight outside chris’s window casts soft shadows against the wall. the glow slips through the blinds and lands in broken lines across the bed. it’s the kind of night that feels suspended, like time’s holding its breath.

chris is lying beside me, close but not touching. always close, but never quite close enough. his back is to me, shoulders rising and falling slowly beneath the worn fabric of his t-shirt. i can’t see his face, but i know he's awake. i can feel it in the way his body tenses every now and then. he’s not sleeping either. he just doesn’t want to admit it.

neither of us do.

this bed is starting to feel like purgatory. a place between being wanted and being forgotten.

i stare at the ceiling. my mind replays the same thoughts, the same questions, looping over and over like a song i don’t know how to turn off.

we shouldn't be here. not like this.

but i don’t move. and neither does he.

“i can’t sleep,” i whisper into the dark. my voice barely audible, like if i say it too loud, it might shatter whatever fragile thing we’re still clinging to.

he doesn’t respond at first. i wonder if he’s pretending again. pretending he’s already drifted off, that he didn’t hear me, that this isn’t happening. that we aren’t happening.

but then his voice comes, low and rough. “i know.”

just that. two words, and somehow they feel heavier than silence.

i shift onto my side, trying to read him. “why do we do this?”

chris turns slightly, just enough that i can catch the side of his face. his profile is outlined by the light, sharp and soft all at once. “do what?”

“this,” i gesture vaguely between us. “be together when we’re not really… together.”

he sighs, the kind of sigh that feels older than it should. “i don’t know. maybe it’s easier than being alone.”

his honesty stings. not because it isn’t true—but because it is. being here with him feels like pretending the loneliness isn’t real. like if we just lie close enough, maybe it’ll fill the space we can’t seem to name.

but I’m tired of pretending.

“do you ever think about what this even is?” i ask.

chris’s jaw tightens for a second. he runs a hand through his hair, fingers pausing near the back of his neck like he’s trying to anchor himself to something. “yeah,” he says finally. “i think about it more than i want to.”

“then why don’t we talk about it?”

he laughs under his breath, and it’s not a happy sound. “because talking makes it real.”

i sit up, folding my legs beneath me. my heart feels heavy in my chest. “and this isn’t real?”

he looks up at me then. his eyes are darker in the dim light, shadows dancing across his face. there’s something haunted in them. something tired.

“i don’t know what this is,” he says. “i just know it’s not simple.”

i press my lips together. i want to scream. i want to cry. i want to shake him and ask why he pulls me in just to keep me at arm’s length. why he makes me feel like maybe i'm the only one who sees the cracks—then acts like he’s already fallen through them.

but i don’t do any of that.

because i get it. he’s scared. so am i.

chris shifts and sits up beside me, our knees almost touching. he glances over, his voice quieter now. “you know i care about you, right?”

i nod. “but that’s not enough.”

“i know.”

we sit in silence, and i can feel the weight of everything we’ve never said pressing down on us. i wish he would just say it—that he loves me. that he’s afraid. that maybe he doesn’t know how to love someone without breaking them in the process.

instead, he says, “you’re gonna leave eventually.”

the words hang there like smoke in the air.

i look at him, stunned. “what?”

“you’ll get tired of this. of me. of… not being enough.”

my chest tightens. “chris, i'm already tired. but not of you. i'm tired of pretending like this doesn’t matter.”

his eyes meet mine, and i see something flicker—regret, maybe. or longing. i can’t tell which hurts more.

“i don’t know how to be what you need,” he says quietly.

“i’m not asking for perfect,” i whisper. “i'm asking for honest. i’m asking for real.”

chris reaches out then, fingers brushing lightly against mine. it’s the smallest touch, but it sends a jolt through me, like maybe we’re still alive in this mess.

“i'm trying,” he says. “even if it doesn’t look like it.”

we stay like that for a while. not kissing. not crying. just… being. two people tangled in a feeling too big to name, too fragile to hold.

eventually, he lies back down and pulls me with him. this time, he doesn’t face away. he wraps an arm around me, pulling me close. his hand settles on my back, warm and steady.

“i don’t want to lose you,” he murmurs against my hair.

“you don’t have to,” i say. “you just have to choose me.”

the silence that follows isn’t empty. it’s filled with something that almost feels like hope.

maybe tomorrow, he’ll wake up and stay. maybe next time, we won’t be sleeping next to each other, pretending not to feel anything. maybe one day, we’ll stop living in the maybe.

but tonight— tonight, i close my eyes in his arms and pretend it’s enough. even if we’re only half-awake. even if we’re still floating just shy of falling.

and in the quiet, in the warmth of his skin against mine, i let myself believe—

that love doesn’t always need to be loud to be real. sometimes, it whispers. sometimes, it lingers in the space between sleep and waking. sometimes, it’s just this.

chris. me. and the almosts we keep pretending are enough.

<3 taglist ; @trevorsgodmother @pr3ttylittleslutt @v4lsturn @wildfluer @delilahsturniolo @courta13 @kisses4chris @chrispycremedonut @chrisspussygang @stvrniolotrxpl3ts @baebadoobee4ever @emely9274 @mvkyis @mattsbug @sturniqloo @mattsleftball @tits4matt @mothstvrnz @joanakaulitz @mialovesyouchris @belle-ee @owenstar @sturnsalcohol @joanakaulitz @cherryystemm @angeliolo

( reply here to be added )

[awakenedevildays]

「bathtubs and requests」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

you can read the other parts here!

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

"you should move in with me" Art's voice echoes off the bathroom walls of his apartment, it's all so relaxing: the heat of the water around your bodies, his chest pressed against your back and his arms wrapped around you are so comfortable that it takes a while for you to realize what he just said.

"what?"

"you heard me" he murmurs against your neck "come live with me" an incredulous laugh leaves your mouth and you try to turn completely towards him, but his arms clench tighter around you and prevent you from moving enough to do so.

"may I ask why you are asking this now?" you move slightly to the side to see his face emerging from the hollow of your neck.

"I feel like we're ready to do it" his eyes avoid yours and focus instead on his fingers as they start caressing your shoulder "and it's also the next logical step in our relationship."

"You think so?" this time, despite Art's protests, you turn towards him: your breasts press against the boy's chest and his eyes fall down quickly before being brought back to yours by the hand under his chin. The tease is evident on your face and Art feels his ears warm up quickly to the realization of being caught in the act.

"I know so" and kisses the smile off your lips to distract you.

"My answer is not a no, but how do we know that our relationship is ready for this?" you ask him and, without realizing it, the agitation inside you rises: how did you know if you were ready for this step? and if you break up because you went too fast?

The tennis player frowns "what do you mean?" and the sight in front of you distracts you for a second: Art sits back against the back of the tub to stand more upright and listen to you better, his arms, after moving his curly damp hair out of his face, leans on the edges of the tub, his wet and smooth chest shines and his legs are open and bent to the sides to give you more space between them. If you weren't so determined to finish the topic you are having you'd kiss him to death, but you're a woman on a mission and you can't get distracted.

"I mean, some of my behaviors might irritate you or we might fight about serious things and then we wouldn't be able to run away from our problems by going back to our apartment, we'd have to deal with these situations and be mature about what bothers us and-"

"love, you're getting worked up over nothing" he says and his expression relaxes into a smile: now that he understood that your reasons are motivated only by insecurity and not by the fact that you don't want to take the next step with him, he feels it will be easier to convince you otherwise.

"You see? this is exactly what I'm talking about! if we move in together we can't belittle each other's feelings and concerns like this. It wouldn't be healthy and-"

"love," he interrupts you again, and your hands that were gesturing in the air fall on his chest, your eyes avoid his.

Out of your mouth comes a small "…yes?" that makes the man in front of you chuckle.

"we're ready" his calm tone makes its way into your chest "we're 24 years old and we've been together since we were 19, we both have a steady job and we already know everything about each other, there's nothing you can tell me that will change my mind".

"what if we fight?"

"I can't promise you we won't fight, we fight even now that we don't live together, but it seems to me that we are pretty good at making up, if we fight we will solve it as always" it's true, you never went beyond a day without talking to each other, even if you were angry.

"what if we break up?"

"It won't happen," he answers immediately, his fingers move the locks of hair behind your ears and then rest his hands on your face, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks.

His head lowers to chain your eyes together and you look up to facilitate his task "I won't let it happen", the security in his eyes makes you exhale a breath you didn't know you were holding.

Your eyes move around to look at the bathroom, "but I wouldn't be able to pay half the rent of this apartment"

"I don't care about that".

"but-"

"If you really want to pay something, we can split the bills," he answers hastily, at the moment Art doesn't care about how to split the expenses, he would pay everything if it meant he could spend the rest of his life next to you… he just needs your 'yes'.

Your face gets close to his, your lips a few inches away.

"okay" his eyes still fixed in yours

"'ok' what?" his smile gets brighter, he wants to hear you say it.

"I'll move in with you" you smile too.

"that's what I like to ear" he kisses you again.

Now he only has to ask you to marry him… but that will have to wait a little longer.

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

Hope you guys will like it as much as I liked writing it! 🩷

(in this fic he still has long hair cause I said so)

[gotta-winwin]

(🎞️) ... hit the road docu.<> catch your breath for a moment, and...

masterlist | cyana's masterlist

word count: 1k tw: sick symptoms, fever italics are interviews cut between scenes + english a/n: i CANNOT stand watching chan being sick guys. the whole ep was so hard to watch i just wanted to wrap him up and get him better ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

Every time Dino coughed, Cyana could feel her heart clench, crumble and tear. Her twin maknae resided somewhere deep inside her soul, making it almost unbearable to see him ill. Filled with the overwhelming sense of love and anguish, she stood up slightly from her seat to face him.

“Chan.” She pushed back his hair, pressing the back of her hand against his feverish forehead. “I love you.”

He blinked up at her from where he sat, a hand reaching up to steady her by her waist. The tour bus rolled on, bumping slightly across the uneven roads of Mexico. “So suddenly?” He asked, mouth parted at the surprise confession. 

She sat back down, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Let’s not talk about it.” 

He hummed, turning his head away from her to let out another violent cough, his body shaking like a leaf in the process. “I love you too.” 

Cyana hated how feeble and weightless he felt, feeling him shiver against her cheek. She knew how excited he had been to visit Mexico, they had stayed up late scouring the city for things to visit, take pictures of, to eat. Those plans were long gone now, as Cyana knew Dino could barely walk, let alone go out for a day trip. 

Pulling out her phone and swiping to her chats with Joshua, she typed out a message, moving as little as possible as to not disturb the boy - who was now laying his head on her shoulder, slumped in his seat. 

🐰: can we grab soup at the restaurant near our hotel tgt later for chan 🦌: sure! I need to stretch my legs 😀 🦌: is chan feeling better?

She glanced at the sleeping boy, each breath coming from his clogged nose tickling the side of her neck. Moving his hair gently out of his eyes, she pressed her fingertips against his forehead once again, pouting when they came back scalding. 

🐰: no 😢 🐰: he’s got a fever 🐰: someone tell him he can’t perform ❗

Shutting her phone off, she let out a deep sigh. She loved touring, getting to travel the world with her best friends while spending their nights performing for fans - except for when it came at the consequence of seeing her friends sick and in pain. 

“If you pass out right now I’m not catching you!” 

Cyana chased after Dino, running across the stage and jumping over the puddles of streamers and confetti. 

Raising her mic to her lips, she yelled out after him. “If you fall I swear I won’t protect you from Coups!” 

The crowd around them roared at the interaction.

The boy only turned, flashing a bright grin in her direction as he continued sprinting, waving at fans along the barricade. 

Cyana paused to catch her breath, shaking her head at his antics. It was a sheer miracle he was older than her, even if it was for less than a year. Feeling a presence from next to her, she smiled when she turned and saw Vernon, an amused expression across his face. 

“He’s sick and he’s still running like a lunatic.” She complained, pointing at Dino, who had somehow found himself in a whole nother section already. 

“He’s just trying to make up for his lack of stage presence.” Vernon told her, reaching a hand out to remove pieces of confetti that had found its way into her hair. “Even though we all tell him he does well every time.” 

“It’s a mental thing.” She added, remembering the amount of late night conversations the two had shared about Dino’s self-criticizing problem. Eyes roaming the stage for him, she sighed upon seeing him climb onto the scooter, knowing he was going to hurt himself sooner or later - with the terrible balance he had while sick - “I should probably go-” She gestured at the catastrophe about to happen. 

Vernon hummed, hooking her arm with his. “I’ll come with you.” 

“Dino has a problem with giving too much onstage and then believing he didn’t give enough.” Cyana sighed as she glanced to the side, eyes locking with Dino's, who was listening from behind the camera. She paled. “Why didn’t you tell me he’d be here for my interview?” She whined, sending accusatory glances at the interviewer. “I’m going to have to tone it down now.”

It was nearing 2am and Cyana was sure she wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. Taking care of a sick Dino was like taking care of a sick toddler, as she watched him roll around in bed, restless from not going out all day. She had just got him to choke down his meds, explaining to deaf ears that he needed the pills to get better. 

“You need to sleep, Dino-yah.” She chided, getting up from her own bed to gently push him down. 

He let out a huff. “I’ll just wake up suffocating in the middle of the night either way.” He complained, having had that experience for the past few nights, his stuffy nose waking both him and Cyana up during ungodly hours of the night. 

“Maybe you should go to the hospital.” She reached over for her phone, unplugging it from the charger. “Let me text manager-oppa.” 

“No!” His reply was instant, tackling her down to grab the phone from her hand. “I’ll sleep. Don’t want to go to the hospital again.” 

She couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s like the sickness takes away ten years of your age. If you told me this was a giant 11 year old, I’d believe you.”

Dino frowned, offended. “I’m sick. You’re really not supposed to be mean to sick people.” 

“I’m calling Mingyu over.” She declared, pushing him off her and getting up. 

“No!” He cried out, eyes wide at the threat. The last time Mingyu had 'taken care' of Dino, he had swaddled the boy in blankets and force-fed him some kind of Chinese herbal medicine from Minghao's mother. Dino shuddered at the memory. “I swear I’ll leak your ugly photos on Weverse if you do that.” 

Mouth agape, Cyana whirled back around to face him, Mingyu forgotten. “Lee Chan! You wouldn’t dare-” 

“I would!” His eyes shone with mischief, and Cyana felt a wave of relief upon seeing his happy glow. He had spent the better half of this week sulking, face gloomy and body wracked with pain. 

“Okay, okay.” She relented, sitting back down on her bed. “I won’t call Mingyu. Delete the photos you have of me.” 

“But what would I giggle at whenever I’m sad?” He complained, smiling wide at her disgusted expression. 

“Perv.”

“Excuse me?” 

Their loud voices bickering echoed past their walls, flowing into the nearby rooms as the other members listened in, thoroughly entertained and happy Dino was feeling better enough to spar with Cyana. 

[fridaysmind]

Would you like to talk about our sacred creature?

Those eyes, like a shimmering ruby, burn through the body, his features are so attractive, you want to kiss from the top of his head to his graceful chin.

A neck in all universes of perfect length, wire by wire beckoning to be touched. To nuzzle with lips, to lick, to bite lightly, to pull and kiss again.

His shoulders feel like they're begging for a warm palm on them, to squeeze the metal in a comforting gesture when the other optics around him don't allow for more contact. I'd sit on them if I were human or cradle my chin, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind if I were a Cybertronian.

And his curves... It was as if in an instant, Primus had decided to create the most majestic and ravishing creature that had ever existed. From his cockpit to his waist, and there to his sinful hips, it's impossible to tear your gaze away.

I want to cling to him with my whole body, to feel the warmth of his frame, the living metal pleasant to the touch and to hear the life flowing in his systems.

And his hands. How I love his hands... Long fingers with claws, deadly sharp, that he can run over my head in gratitude for a good job or slit my throat in a moment of frustration. To hold his hand is not just luck, but a blessing in itself, let alone to have his fingers run along the chin, or maybe even our nipples, which are bulging with excitement…

His legs are long, too, his stride from the hip, each movement like a swan floating on the water. The contact of his heel with the surface cannot be confused with anything else, even considering his trine, it is just his sound, special, rhythmic. Looking up at him from below only makes him more beautiful.

I want to feel his gaze on me, his breath, his attention, feel his touch. That this precious optic would cling to only one figure in the room, passing over the frames of all those who are unable to appreciate my Star at face value.

And by going deeper one can reach the most precious and important thing of all Starscream, of all universes.

His spark.

We can sing dithyrambs about it, the most beautiful part of his essence, his very core. A beautiful energy, unearthly, incredible, almost magical. 

He doesn't exist, but the very thought that a human being can't connect sparks with cybertronians is like tearing my chest apart. The desire to merge, to become one, to give all of oneself without a trace, to leave no secrets, burns from the inside.

His name is on the lips when its time to wake up, his name is on the lips when its time to go to sleep.

All poems and all songs of beauty and love have been written about him, all thoughts are devoted to loyalty to the beautiful seeker. He is as important as oxygen, he is as important as water and sleep. All I ask is to kneel and kiss his feet, telling him aloud how majestic he is, how no soul deserves him.

Not even mine.

[jam3sacaster]

“You just don’t see it, do you?”

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 / You are convinced you are utterly unlovable. Rupert, however, is convinced otherwise ..

18+ FANFIC / A lil soft one for you guys to break up the brain rot I’m inflicting upon our fandom 😅 Reader character aged 21.

Growing up, there were many ways you envisaged your 21st birthday playing out. Copious mounds of presents among constantly refilled glasses of ridiculously expensive champagne. One of the ways you didn’t imagine your 21st, however, was sitting on your living room sofa, sobbing silently. Not a single living soul in Rutshire had been to visit you. The only friend you’d made in this wretched village, Caitlin O’Hara was still holed up at her boarding school, but had sent you the most charming birthday card she could muster— fangirling over Rupert Campbell-Black, as usual. Talk of the devil, the aforementioned man that you had spent many a night with in recent weeks hadn’t even bothered to send so much as a card. Some birthday, you think to yourself.

What is wrong with me, you ask yourself. You’re young, you’re beautiful, you have a sparkling personality. Yet the man frequenting your bed so often couldn’t even grace you with a brief appearance on such a significant birthday? Hoisting yourself from the sofa to let your charming your charming mongrel, Bertha, outside, you hear a soft, rapping knock at the door. Huffing, you shuffle to the front door and open it just a slither. “Hello?” You ask, before clocking Rupert stood, puffing a cigarette whilst grinning widely, arms clutching large, intricately wrapped gift. “Oh, it’s you.” You roll your eyes, feeling them sting with salted tears. “You could sound more overjoyed.” He huffed jokingly, and pushed his way inside.

“I’m not in the mood tonight, Rupert. I’ve had the most awful day.” You groan, following the overly enthusiastic man into your living room. You throw yourself onto the sofa and curl your legs into yourself, watching him as he stands in the centre of your sheepskin rugs, muddied boots leaving the most unforgiving stain. He outstretches the present into your eyeline again, and shoots you that intoxicating grin. “Happy birthday, angel!”

“What is it?” You ask. Unsurprisingly, you’re not in the mood for his foolishness. “Open it and see.” He rolls his eyes. “As I said, Rupert, I have been on my own all day so I find it wildly inappropriate that you arrive nearing on,” you stop to check your watch, “10pm with a gift.”

“Good things seldom come to those who wait.” He replies, grinning. This wasn’t about you— he was wholly referring to the gift you would undoubtedly give him later. Suppressing your 12th huff of this conversation, you snatch the present from his grip and unwrap it. Between the gold-lined wrapping paper sat a red, leather box. Inside the box sat the most beautiful, delicate necklace. Silver links — each one adorned in the most intricate diamond. A thing of pure royalty. “For me?” You ask, gently pulling the jewellery from its carefully engraved indent in the box. Without responding, Rupert pulled you up and grabbed a handful of your hair, tossing it over your shoulder to tie the necklace to your body. His gentle touch sent shivers down your spine. After a few minutes of him grunting at the perplexing intricacy of the links, he spun you round to admire the eye-watering expensive gift he had bought you. “A special birthday gift for a special lady.” He remarked, taking a seat on the sofa and waiting for you to follow.

As you sat down, the sincerity of his gesture and the absolute misery of your day just got to you. Starting as quiet sniffles at first but working it’s way to inconsolable sobs, you absolutely broke down, prompting a rather shocked look from Rupert. “Hey, angel. What’s wrong?” He asked, wrapping a muscular arm around your shoulder and pulling you tight to his chest. “I just wanted to feel special, but all today has done is remind me of how brutally and honestly alone I am. I wake up every day to nobody but Bertha, and I fall asleep the same way. I look in the mirror everyday and my reflection gets more and more alien. I’m starting to have the utterly terrible feeling that I’m going to be this way forever,” you breathe deeply through your tears before continuing, “I am going to be alone forever. Unlovable and alone.” Rupert could only exhale— astonished at your heartfelt confession.

However, there was a touch of something deeper than astonishment in his sigh. “You just don’t see it, do you?” He shook his head as he spoke. You looked up at him now, eyes glassy and mottled cheeks stained with tears. “What?” You prompt.

“I have been to five different jewellers today. Granted, I should’ve come earlier but I travelled two hours outside of Rutshire, to a diamond specialist, to find your necklace. Have you read the note?” He sighed once more, motioning towards the jewellery box. You lifted the box open, and brought the small carded note to your eyeline. It read:

‘To my darling angel on your birthday, I hope you have the most special day, and I hope this gift makes you see yourself in the astonishingly beautiful way that I see you. With love - R’

Wiping away a falling tear, you sniffle. You felt incredibly guilty for being so coarse with him, but his heartfelt gift had warmed your heart — only very slightly. Rupert brushed his palm gently across your cheek, prompting you to maintain the most devilishly intimate eye contact.

“You don’t seem to understand angel, you absolutely terrify me. I am so wildly in love with you that I am afraid of my own reflection.. I look at myself and I only see a man that loves you. Ever since I met you, I have been restricted to being a man that loves you. It terrifies me, yes, but I couldn’t wish to be anything else.”

‘Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love.’ - Shakespeare

[goldfades]

PLEASEEE write about devin booker taking care of drunk reader at a party + after the party 🙏🏼🙏🏼

this might be my new fav concept... nba men taking care of reader when she's drunk<3

There was always an after.

After the lights dimmed, after the music lost its edge, after the laughter turned softer and the crowd started to thin. After the high of the night settled into something quieter, something heavier, something that clung to the air like the last note of a song still humming against the walls.

And for Devin, after looked a lot like this.

Standing in the lobby of the Four Seasons, a glass award still tucked under his arm from the NBA Players Association Awards—one of those league events that was equal parts networking and celebration—and you, draped against his side, barefoot, because your heels were dangling from his fingers.

“You’re gonna regret this tomorrow,” he murmured, watching as you swayed slightly, blinking up at him like he had just spoken another language.

You let out a slow exhale, eyes half-lidded with sleepiness, head tilting lazily against his shoulder. “Regret what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely at you, at the undone straps of your dress, the way your jewelry was tangled against your skin, the way your lipstick was slightly smudged from too many cocktails sipped too quickly.

You made a face. “I’m fine.”

“You’re drunk.”

You considered that, pursing your lips before nodding. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Devin sighed, adjusting his hold on you as you leaned into him, the warmth of your body pressing against his side. He could feel your heartbeat—steady, slow, a little sleepy.

“You had fun, though,” he pointed out, because even though he knew you were about thirty seconds away from passing out, there was still a lazy grin playing at your lips.

“So much fun,” you confirmed, looping your arms around his waist as if you were about to just take a nap right there in the middle of the lobby.

Devin huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, come on.”

He adjusted his grip on you, slipping an arm beneath your legs before you could protest, scooping you up effortlessly.

You gasped, then burst into a sleepy giggle. “Devin!”

“What?” he said, already heading toward the elevator, still carrying your heels in one hand while holding you steady with the other.

“You did not have to carry me.”

“Tell that to the people who would’ve had to watch you trip all the way up to our room.”

You pouted, resting your cheek against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re lucky I like you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmured, voice softer now, sleep tugging at the edges. “I know.”

And Devin just shook his head, pressing the elevator button, knowing full well you wouldn’t even remember half of this by morning.

But that was fine.

Because there was always an after—and for him, it looked a lot like making sure you never had to worry about a thing.

The elevator doors slid open with a quiet chime, and Devin stepped inside, shifting you slightly in his arms to hit the button for your floor. You made a small noise of protest at the movement, tucking yourself deeper against his chest like he was your personal pillow.

“I can walk, you know,” you mumbled, though you made absolutely no effort to leave his hold.

Devin scoffed, adjusting his grip on your legs. “Yeah? You sure about that?”

You hummed, lifting your head just enough to give him a look—or at least, you tried to. It was more of a sleepy, unfocused blink that made him smirk.

“I mean it, Book,” you huffed. “I’m perfectly capable of—”

Right as you started to shift, one of your hands slipping from his shoulder, Devin let you down just a fraction so your toes touched the ground.

And instantly—instantly—your knees wobbled.

Before you could even think about face-planting onto the expensive marble tile, Devin caught you, one strong arm steadying your waist as you gasped dramatically.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, gripping his bicep for dear life.

“Exactly.” His voice was smug. “And you were saying?”

“…Nothing,” you muttered, dropping your forehead against his shoulder in defeat.

Devin chuckled, shaking his head before effortlessly lifting you back into his arms. “That’s what I thought.”

The elevator started to move, the soft hum of the machinery the only sound filling the space for a moment. You let out a small sigh, curling into him like you had fully accepted your fate.

“I think I had, like, six margaritas.”

Devin raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, no shit.”

“Like really good margaritas,” you continued, completely ignoring him. “Like, the kind that taste like juice, but then bam—they hit you.”

Devin smirked. “They did hit you.”

You frowned slightly, tracing a lazy pattern against his chest with one finger. “Wait… what event was this again?”

He snorted. “You’re kidding.”

“I swear I knew earlier,” you insisted, lifting your head to look at him again. “But then—margaritas.”

Devin shook his head, amused. “NBA Players Association Awards.”

Your mouth formed an oh, like the memory was slooowly filtering back in. “Did you win something?”

He gave you a look. “You were literally there when I accepted it.”

“Yeah, but—” You squinted at him. “Was I drunk at that point?”

“…Fair point.”

You hummed, pleased with yourself. “What was the award?”

Devin sighed. “Most Respected Player.”

Your lips stretched into a lazy grin. “Oh, so you’re like, nice and stuff?”

He rolled his eyes. “Something like that.”

“Wouldn’t know it from the way you just dragged me for almost falling.”

Devin chuckled. “You did almost wipe out.”

You gasped. “Wow. No sympathy? At all?”

“None.”

You pouted dramatically before sighing, your body going limp again as you nestled back into him. “S’okay. I forgive you.”

Devin fought back a smile. “Appreciate that.”

The elevator dinged as it reached your floor, and Devin carried you out, adjusting his grip on your heels so he could grab the key card from his pocket.

“You’re very strong, you know that?”

Devin chuckled. “I hope so.”

“Like… you’re carrying me like I weigh nothing.”

“You don’t.”

“But you make it seem like I do,” you continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Like, what if I just stayed here forever? What if I refused to get down?”

He swiped the key card, the green light blinking as the door clicked open. “Guess I’d be stuck with you.”

You gasped, dramatically clutching your chest. “Would that be so bad?”

Devin smirked as he stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him. “That depends. Are you gonna complain the whole time?”

You let out a soft tsk, shaking your head. “No faith in me at all.”

He walked over to the bed, finally setting you down gently against the mattress. You immediately sprawled out, stretching your arms above your head with a deep sigh.

“This bed feels amazing,” you mumbled, eyes already drifting shut.

Devin rolled his eyes, crouching down in front of you to undo the straps of your dress heels. “I should make you sleep in these just to teach you a lesson.”

“You would not,” you said, horrified.

He slid one off, then the other, tossing them aside before resting his elbows on his knees, looking up at you. “No, but I should.”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

Devin just smirked, reaching over to grab a bottle of water from the nightstand before nudging your arm with it. “Here.”

You groaned dramatically, burying your face into the comforter. “Don’t want water.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, you need water.”

You peeked at him from under your arm. “How do you know?”

“Because you had six margaritas.”

You squinted. “Five.”

Devin raised an eyebrow.

“…Maybe six.”

“Exactly.” He unscrewed the cap, pressing it into your hand. “Drink.”

You sighed, pushing yourself up into a sitting position before taking a long sip, making a bleh face as you swallowed.

Devin chuckled. “Drama queen.”

You ignored him, finishing the bottle before setting it down with a satisfied hum.

Then, suddenly, your eyes widened slightly.

“What?” Devin asked, noting the way you seemed… alarmed.

You reached out, gripping the front of his shirt. “Did I embarrass you?”

Devin blinked. “What?”

“Tonight,” you rushed out, tugging at his shirt like it was very important that he answer this right now. “Did I embarrass you?”

Devin stared at you, momentarily thrown by how serious you looked.

“No,” he said finally.

Your lips pressed together. “You hesitated.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “I didn’t hesitate.”

“You so did.”

Devin shook his head. “You were fine.”

Your grip on his shirt tightened. “Be honest, Devin.”

“I am,” he said, fighting a smile. “You were tipsy, yeah, but you weren’t that bad.”

You searched his face, eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re not just saying that?”

“Would I lie to you?”

“…Maybe.”

Devin chuckled, leaning in slightly. “If it makes you feel better, I think drunk you is kinda cute.”

You gasped, scandalized. “I am not cute right now.”

He smirked. “You definitely are.”

You flopped back onto the bed with a groan. “This is a disaster.”

Devin just shook his head, moving to grab a makeup wipe from the bathroom. “Come here.”

You peeked up at him, eyes wary. “For what?”

“Your makeup.”

You scrunched your nose. “I’ll do it in the morning.”

“You’ll regret that in the morning.”

You groaned again, sitting up and letting him gently wipe away the smudged remnants of your mascara.

As he worked, you studied his face, your expression softer now, like the exhaustion was finally settling in.

“Thanks, Dev.”

Devin glanced at you. “For what?”

You shrugged. “Taking care of me.”

He smirked, tossing the wipe in the trash before brushing his fingers lightly against your jaw.

“Always.”

And with that, he pulled the blanket over you, watching as you curled into the pillow, finally letting sleep pull you under.

And as he settled in beside you, feeling the warmth of your body against his, he realized—there were worse ways to end a night.

[trendywaifus]

I see we are all collective losing our shit for zzz women 😍😍 my head is full of fantasies about watching porno with Anby and trying one or two things with her

🙏🏽 cw: fem! reader, 69, oral fixation, fingering, nun crazy

“ um, anby. .when you said you wanted to watch a film, I didn’t think you meant. . .this? “ you stutter, brows raised in surprise, watching two naked women laid down on a queen-sized bed sensually grinding against each other. the sounds of groans and breathy moans gradually thicken the atmosphere of anby’s bedroom. you want to rip your gaze away, but you can’t. you found the porno shamelessly hot. the women switched positions, one stayed on her back while the other positioned her pussy over the woman’s face. wait—was she going to sit on her face? the girl on top lean her body down until she’s facing the bottom girl’s pussy.

your jaw drops open; are they doing the 69?

the whole time, anby’s observant gaze glance between you and the porno. she eyes the flustered expression plastered on your face. even she could tell you were into it despite the redness sinking into your cheeks. wordlessly, she leans her frame into yours, resting a hand on your thigh to steal your attention. the hand on the thigh is typically a romantic gesture used for starting intimacy. “ a-anby, what are you doing? “

“ do you want to try what they’re doing? “ the android asks bluntly, you blink multiple times with prized astonishment. “ i-i. .is this why you picked this shit to watch with me? to try some things with me? “

“ yes, isn’t it better to watch pornographic films with your partner to add ‘excitement’ in the bedroom?”anby questions with a curious look on her features.

“ whoever told you that is a freak. you must of somehow gotten it through inter-knot search or something. “

“ i did. “

you shook your head, subconsciously leaning backwards towards the mattress while anby gradually crawls over you. “ next time, give me a heads ups. “ you whispered, wrapping your arms around her body. anby says nothing and closes the distance between you and her. her soft lips are pressed firm against yours as she settles between your legs. the ongoing sounds of moaning in the background makes your belly twist and turn with embarrassment. sensing your heart beat thumping faster, she abruptly locks her lips with yours sloppily, parting her lips open to deepen the kiss. teeth clash together and a surprised noise rumble in your chest. her hand snake around your head and holds it in place. the sweet taste of vanilla pudding she had earlier fills your tastebuds as her tongue messily lick at your bottom lip and force its way inside.

anby’s hips roll against yours, half-humping you into the mattress. her tongue swirls around yours hungrily before exploring your hot mouth. albeit sloppy, how long has she been watching these pornos behind your back to be doing this? your chest tightens due to the lack of oxygen so you take quick breaths through your nose. anby sucks on your tongue, erratically licking around, and actively trying to shove her tongue down your throat. you grasp her shoulders and ripped her away from the drawn-out heated kiss; a thread of saliva breaks off on your lips and chins.

“ e-ease it girl, you were practically trying to devour me whole there. .“ you panted heavily, staring into her half-lidded eyes, a twinge of desire swirling within them. she blinks, tilting her head at you with confusion. “ am i not expressing how much i want you, (name)? i read that acting on desperation shows your partner how much you want them? “

by now, the film has already ended. you let out a heavy sigh, recomposing yourself. “ th-that’s true but. .—you know what, were you paying attention to the tv earlier before this? “

“ yes, i was. “ she replies blankly, her grip behind your head not lessening.

“ l-let’s try that position. “

“ you mean. .? “

“ yeah, anby. “

anby sits up right, attempting to pull her black t-shirt over her head, you stop her. “ don’t undress all the way, just your pajamas and everything else below, i’ll do the same, pretty girl. “

she complies, pulling her lime green pajama pants down and shimmying out of them and dropping them somewhere on the floor. you do the same with your pajama bottoms. “ now, do what the top girl was doing. hover yourself over my face while you hover yours on. .my pussy. “ you felt embarrassed to say that explicitly.

“ okay. “

she positions herself backwards while you continue to lay down. her pussy hovers over your face, you can feel it’s heat touching your skin. your toes slightly curl when you feel anby’s hot breath fanning against your wet heat. your forearms curl around her plush thighs. a wandering question finds itself at the front of your mind—even if she’s an android, can she still cum? “ you’re okay like this, anby? “

“ i am, can i start now? “

“ mhm. “

without wasting time, the tip of her tongue slide down your moist folds. anby does it in a side by side motion, her head slightly following the direction of her tongue. the taste of your juices floods her artificial tastebuds. “ you taste sweeter than i expected (name). “ she mutters, her words hot on your pussy. her wet lips circle around your pulsating clit and unintentionally suck hard at it. your legs jerk, a gasp runs off your tongue. you grip her thighs tighter.

you bury your face into her cunt, licking at her entrance. anby’s thighs twitch, otherwise no reaction. you tease her slit, prodding at the small opening before pushing inside. anby’s breath hitches and her thighs tense as you fuck your tongue into her. “ (n-name). . “ she groans softly, pulling away from your clit to focus more on the hotness of your tongue stroking her walls. “ i-it’s hard to continue wh-when your tongue is. .” theres a change in pitch in her seemingly emotionless voice.

“ i-it feels hot but good. .? “

you slip your tongue out and press the slimy muscle flat against her clit. her hands holding your thighs grips harder on them. “ does it, pretty girl? “ you pepper her pussy with messy kisses, smearing your drool all over her folds. mwah, mwah, mwah. is all your girlfriend hears and the wet noises of your tongue playing with her damp folds. a shockwave of pleasure courses through her, she grits her teeth. she grinds herself on your tongue, attempting to chase the addicting feeling she just experienced.

“ m-more. .” anby utters, sounding uncharacteristically more and more desperate as you spend time eating out her pussy. your middle finger circles her twitching entrance. “ i’m gonna put a finger in, doll. “ and you do just that, sliding it in with ease due to your slippery tongue prepping her. anby’s toes curl with pleasure as she feels your digit sinking into her hole, stretching her out a few more inches than your tongue did.

“ relax f’me. there we go, i don’t want you to be uncomfortable. after all, i still want an answer to a question i have in my head. “ you voiced softly, kissing her clit while her walls ease around your finger.

“ a-an answer to what question? “ she asks breathlessly.

“ if androids can cum. “

[sinful-sonnet]

Soft Like Home

Joel miller x plus sized reader

W/C: 1k

A/N: I’ve been plus sized since I had my baby so I desperately needed this :’-)

The sun had just started its descent, casting a warm golden light over Jackson. Joel Miller was back from a long day of patrol, muscles aching but heart light as he approached the small home he shared with you and your one-year-old daughter. He could hear her giggles echoing from inside and felt a small smile tug at the corners of his lips.

Inside, you were on the floor, your daughter babbling excitedly as she clutched a wooden block in her chubby hands. You looked up when Joel walked in, the light catching your features, and Joel thought — not for the first time — that you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

But you didn’t feel it. Not today.

You had slipped into a loose sweater and leggings, your go-to outfit since the baby was born. While you adored your daughter, pregnancy had left its mark on you. Your belly had softened and hung slightly over your waistband, no matter how much you tried to will it away. It made you shy away from certain clothes, especially anything remotely fitted or sheer.

As Joel leaned down to kiss the top of your daughter’s head, his eyes flicked to you. He noticed the way you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, the way your arms crossed over your middle when you stood up.

“Hey, darlin’,” Joel greeted softly, his voice warm and rough like the earth.

You offered him a small smile. “Hey. How was patrol?”

Joel shrugged, crouching to help your daughter balance as she toddled toward him. “Same old. Missed bein’ home, though. Missed my girls.”

The words sent a pang through you — guilt and longing tangled together. Joel had always been attentive and kind, but you couldn’t help the voice in the back of your mind, whispering that he deserved better.

After dinner, Joel found you in the bedroom, folding laundry. The soft light from the bedside lamp highlighted the tension in your shoulders. He came up behind you, resting his hands gently on your waist.

“You’ve been quiet,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You froze under his touch, instinctively tugging at the hem of your sweater to cover yourself more. “I’m fine.”

Joel wasn’t buying it. He turned you around gently, his hands firm yet tender on your hips. His gaze searched yours, the intensity of it making your heart flutter and your throat tighten.

“Talk to me,” he urged.

Your defenses crumbled under the weight of his concern. “I just… I don’t feel like myself anymore, Joel.” Your voice wavered, and you gestured vaguely at your midsection. “I don’t like what I see. My body… it’s not what it used to be. And I feel like—like you deserve someone who still looks good.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, a mixture of sadness and frustration crossing his face. “You think I care about that?”

You bit your lip, looking away. “Maybe not, but I do.”

Joel tilted your chin gently, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low and steady. “This body — your body — it gave us our daughter. It kept her safe and brought her into this world. And now it keeps her fed, keeps her warm, chases after her when she’s raisin’ hell. How could I not love that? How could you not?”

Your throat tightened, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “But it’s… it’s not—”

“It’s you,” Joel interrupted, his hands moving to cradle your face. “And I love every inch of you, darlin’. Every mark, every soft spot. You think I don’t notice the way your belly feels when I hold you at night? Or the way it looks when you laugh? It’s my favorite damn thing about you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Joel caught it with his thumb. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your mouth. “Always have been. Always will be.”

You melted into him, his words wrapping around you like a blanket. For the first time in months, you felt the weight on your chest start to lift.

Later that night, when the house was quiet and your daughter was asleep, you found a soft, fitted tank top tucked in your drawer. It was sheer enough to make you hesitate, but Joel’s words echoed in your mind.

You slipped it on and walked into the living room, where Joel sat with his guitar. His fingers stilled on the strings when he saw you, his eyes softening.

“You’re a vision,” he said, setting the guitar aside and reaching for you.

And in his arms, you started to believe it.

When you both finally crawled into bed, Joel pulled you into bed. The fitted tank top you’d chosen still felt like a bold decision, but Joel hadn’t stopped looking at you with that warm, adoring gaze since you put it on.

Now, as he lay beside you, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, he pressed you close. His chest was solid and warm against your back, his hand resting possessively on your soft belly.

“You feel so good, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion and affection. “So warm, so perfect.”

You sighed, your tension melting away as he nuzzled his face into your hair. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

Joel chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Have I ever lied to you, sweetheart?” His hand rubbed slow, comforting circles over your belly, as if to emphasize his point.

You turned slightly to face him, your nose brushing against his. His eyes were soft in the dim light, filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache in the best way. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“For what?”

“For loving me like this.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, his hand cupping your cheek. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he said firmly. “It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t born of insecurity or sadness. You tucked your head against his chest, letting his steady heartbeat soothe you.

As he held you close, his fingers still brushing over your belly in soothing strokes, Joel pressed a kiss to your hair. “Get some rest, darlin’,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. Always.”

In his arms, with his love wrapped around you like a shield, you finally let yourself believe it.

[versevibess]

Commandress

Cassian X reader

PART FOUR

Part Three

Part Two

Part One

SUMMARY:

Now it’s Cassian’s turn to propose an offer to the Comandress. One she cannot refuse.

WARNINGS:

NOTHING BUT I PROMISE THEY’RE COMING. Okay maybe some suggestive themes idk. A bit of Azriel coming to the rescue if u squint really hard.

Feyre swirled her berry red wine around a thin glass, her grey eyes flickering to the rim as she did so. I watched carefully as her lips parted, wondering whether her next question would be for me.

We were dressed for dinner, which Mor had insisted on helping me do so, considering we would be dining out for the night. It felt slightly odd, holding a cut crystal glass of whiskey with a dagger hoisted in the band of my underwear, all whilst wearing a gown so elegant I was sure it would have grown a pair of legs and walked away from Morrigan as she reached for it. A sleek, deep red gown made from fine satin clung to the upper part of my body, the fabric below my hips becoming softly pleated before it flowed along the ground. Not only was my cleavage exposed, but so were my scars, my back.

I opted to wear my hair down.

“I heard our lovely General was kind enough to give you a tour of Velaris.” Feyre said, her head nodding towards me before she took a small sip of wine. She was wearing a crystal studded dress of midnight blue, one similar to the one she wore the day she came to retrieve me; her hair half up and half down, igniting her soft yet beautiful features.

Mor laughed from beside her, her smile bright enough to light up any room. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” She followed before taking a large swig of wine. Molten gold, that’s what she was wearing.

Amren, who held no glass, lifted her eyes to meet mine. “If he aggravates you enough, girl, put that dagger to good use.” She sneered almost playfully, almost truthfully, gesturing a slender pale hand towards the imprint on my hip. She was wearing a simple slate grey blouse and trousers, only adding to the intensity of her silver glowing eyes, glimmering jewels of ruby dripping from her neck and wrists. She didn’t need extravagance to radiate power.

My eyes dragged to the dagger, then back up to the ladies. “He also took me to Illyria.” Was all I replied, my finger tracing the rim of my glass slowly.

Since he had left, I had a hollow feeling growing inside of me, one that I simply couldn’t explain. Although it had only been a mere few hours without him, it made my body and mind believe that it was forgetting something, like something was amiss. It made me feel pathetic, weak, yet I would simply rather die than have to ask why it was. I just told myself that perhaps it was the change in food making me ill, that once I was used to this all it would go away.

It was when I was in the privacy of my bathroom when focused my mind to the second time setting eyes on him after the war. That tap in my chest, I could almost feel it, like a tiny bony finger had weaved its way inside of me and prodded me firmly. As I scrubbed my arms and legs to rid myself of the dust of Illyria, I tried to think back to a time when any male had made me feel something other than disgust. And I couldn’t. Even on the battlefield, in a place so brutal and hostile and cruel, all I thought about was his face.

“And how was that?” Feyre asked with a grin, her eyes narrowing at me.

I was about to speak, perhaps tell her my thoughts on the female warriors that we had watched spar, although I was sure a High Lady had little interest in such a thing. But I was saved by the lounge room doors bursting open, revealing two and a half, already merry, Illyrian’s.

Feyre’s attention was diverted elsewhere as her mate sauntered in, a smug look plastered across his dark features, before he leant down to give her a soft kiss. I looked away as they exchanged affection, the hollow feeling which had been eating away at my flesh and bones diminishing once my eyes settled on Cassian. The realisation that perhaps it wasn’t the food making me ill made me want to vomit.

He grinned at me with a flash of white teeth, wings stretching out wide behind him before he walked over to Mor to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. I tore my eyes away, watching as Azriel stepped into the room silently, with no need to make an entrance, black shadows curling around his feet.

He gave me a nod. “Commandress.” He acknowledged with a subtle smile tugging at one side of his mouth.

“Shadowsinger.” I acknowledged in return.

I didn’t bother to stand as Cassian swanned over to my chair, considering we had spent majority of our day together. Seemingly, he had the same thought as he didn’t even do so much as to greet me; instead, he slid a hand into his pocket and fumbled around for a moment.

He threw his suede money pouch onto the cherrywood coffee table separating the High Lady and I. My eyes grew wide as the heavy metal inside clanged against the surface.

“Delivering your earnings.” He declared as the room grew silent.

He had definitely stuffed more than one hundred gold marks into that pouch.

“Keep your money, General. I’m sure you will find other ways to loose it.” I glared at him out of the corner of my eye as I spoke, standing from the armchair and gripping the bag with a tight fist.

I stepped to him, his bulging arms crossed over his chest, a sly smirk on his lips. His head tilted to the side, his eyes narrowing on mine before he spoke, “you already seem to know me so well. But what you don’t know is that I always deliver on my end of the bargain.”

I tilted my head, mirroring his. “Is that right?” I asked, dropping the bag into my other hand before turning to face the rest of the circle. I raised it slightly as I took in their faces, all smug with something I was unaware of. “I suppose dinner is on me then.”

•

Dinner was not on me.

In fact, the restaurant owner, Sevenda, outright refused to let us pay.

The food was like something I had never experienced before, however I was aware that cooking poverty cuts of meat over a camp fire was hardly any comparison. I truly had to hold back a moan when I took my first bite. Even something as simple as vegetables were delectable, I could have feasted on them alone all night.

I was quiet during the dinner and although I was enjoying stuffing my face with many different delicacies, a curdling sickness had settled in the bottom of my stomach. Something didn’t feel right. Whether it was the guilt of enjoying such exotic food, or whether it was contemplating the feeling of emptiness once the General left my side, I could tell something was amiss.

Or maybe, it was the fact that Cassian’s eyes had not left my breasts all night.

I believed he thought he was slick, sitting beside me and leaning his jaw on his knuckle, averting his eyes from my chest once my attention was drawn back to him, or every time someone at the table addressed me. It was only when I caught him in the act when I spoke.

Rhysand was telling a story, so loud that he had gained the attraction of the entire restaurant. Nobodies eyes were on us as I leaned over to whisper to him,

“My eyes are up here, General.”

He nearly choked on his drink, Azriel shooting him a look of concern from across the table as he attempted to play it off. Amusement flicked inside of me as I leant back in my chair, watching as he slowly did set his drink down and did the same.

His usual bright hazel eyes had clouded over, his focus only partly on Rhysand’s war story as he leaned over to me, his shoulder brushing mine.

“I can’t help but wonder where they came from?” He purred, looking down at me with heavy eyelids, or my chest rather.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I wear leathers two sizes too small so pigs like you won’t notice them.” I sneered and he couldn’t help but tilt his head back and let out a bellowing laugh. Eyes were drawn to us, which I returned with an awkward, uneasy smile; Cassian didn’t seem to care.

Soon enough, the tables chatter died down, the usual clatter of cutlery and song of the restaurant surrounding us as we sat slouched with our bellies full. I would share occasional glances with the others, but kept my eyes on my empty plate, my thoughts heavy and swirling around my mind. I hadn’t forgotten that I had promised the General Commander an answer by tonight.

It was Morrigan who first broke the silence.

“Anyone fancy a trip to Rita’s?” She asked, excitement radiating off of her.

Although I didn’t know what Rita’s was, the thought of even walking after such a heavy delicious meal made me wince. I could think of nothing more satisfying than a hot bath and a good book before curling into a cozy bed. The thought made the hairs on my nape stand on end.

Eventually, one by one, the circle began standing from their seats and bidding goodbye. Feyre and Rhysand kindly declined Morrigan’s offer, however it seemed like Azriel and Amren were eager to move on to the next venue.

I stood from my chair, eyes raking over Cassian who did the same. He turned to me as I tucked the seat beneath the table.

“Will you be joining us?” He asked.

I shook my head immediately. “My bed is calling my name.”

He leant over and turned his head with a look of mischief plastered across his handsome face. His lips were a few moments away from brushing my ear, leaving me stood like a startled deer. “I’m sure if you listen closely enough, your bed is calling my name too.” He said softly so that only I could hear. I screwed my face up in disgust, although I couldn’t fight the pooling heat in my stomach as I swatted him away with the back of my hand.

“Pig.” I sneered. But the heat travelled from my stomach to my cheeks.

We soon trailed our way out of the restaurant, our feet padding against the cool stone brick floor until we spilled out into the crisp outside air. We stood along the pavement, the High Lady clinging to her mate for some sort of warmth as Morrigan, Amren and Azriel had already began their descent towards a large brick building with flashing lights and blaring music in the distance.

Rhysand shot Cassian a look, one that I couldn’t quite place, before he wrapped his arms around his grinning High Lady. Cassian simply shuffled his feet, his powerful wings shuddering from the cold behind him.

“We will see you soon, don’t have too much fun tonight.” Rhysand winked cheekily, before him and his mate vanished into a cloud of swirling black and violet smoke.

My hands gripped my upper arms, rubbing up and down in an attempt to gain some heated friction against the harsh winter night. “Are you joining the others?” I asked, filling the silence which had settled around us.

He peered over at the three of them growing smaller in the distance, Morrigan swaying from side to side as she interlinked arms with Amren and Azriel. “Eventually.” He said, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked back down at me. “Let me walk you home first.”

My eyebrows knitted together, “if you believe I am incapable of walking home on my own then you are asking the wrong person to help lead your armies.” I said, the sickness in my gut twisting tighter with the more words I spoke. Perhaps I would arrange to see a healer in the morning.

He raised his eyebrows, lips stretching out into a wolfish grin. “You must really want to climb those ten thousand steps.” He remarked.

I rolled my eyes, once again, completely forgetting the unnecessary height of that House.

“Fine.”

“Would you like to walk or fly, sweetheart?” He asked, steps training just behind mine; I could hear the stupid grin he had on his lips. That stupid, handsome, grin.

“Let’s walk.”

I had been so caught up in the beauty of Velaris at night that I paid no heed to the harsh breeze ripping at my hair, brushing the strands over my shoulder. I was too busy watching the fae playing music in the streets, watching the star dusted sky stretch high over the mountains. We didn’t have the privilege of such a view back at Creta, just white sky’s with the occasional bit of sun in the spring and summers, the prime time for hunting. It felt strange to know I wouldn’t have to do that again.

Cassian fell quiet behind me, and I was none the wiser that my ink and scar ridden back was on full display to him, too consumed by the scenery around me. My breath caught in my throat as I realised, jaw clenching as we rounded a corner and I swiftly brushed my tendrils of hair back over my shoulder. Perhaps it was too dark for him to see.

“I see you found your tattoo.”

I wanted to scream at his words. Those black wings that I stared at for too long each night, with both malice and awe. A taunt and a gift. I didn’t respond to him, instead picked up my pace, eager to spot the House in the distance.

“You said you would have a decision for me.” He said again, despite my silence.

My lips rolled inwards as that same dreaded sickness coiled in my gut, my steps coming to an abrupt halt. I looked at him and narrowed my eyes. “I will stay, but I wish to tell the High Lord and Lady on Solstice eve. As long as my people are cared for properly, I no longer mind where I wind up.” I responded curtly. “But I want you to answer me one thing, Cassian.” I watched as his face faltered slightly at the firm use of his name. “You watched me in that battle for a mere few minutes between carving the heads off of the Kings soldiers, you have men that you have watched fight your whole life - you didn’t even ask to see me spar whilst we were in Illyria. So why me? Why choose me as your second when you know so little about me?” My head tilted to the side as I spoke, my eyes never leaving his as my words fell from my lips with such sturdiness it sounded as if I was scolding him.

Dark pupils flickered over my face for a moment; he was reading me. My nerves sparked along my bones in anticipation to his answer, his throat bobbing, forehead creased, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he parted them to speak.

Yet he didn’t, instead, he reached for my hand.

He held it as if it was fragile, as if it was made from the thinnest daintiest glass. I furrowed my eyebrows as he placed my fingers along the left side of this chest, below his armour. He was warm, firm, and through the mountain of muscle I could feel the soft patter of his heart. It wasn’t racing, yet it wasn’t steady. Almost as if it was trying to tell me something.

“I felt it in here.” He said and I could tell he was as nervous as I was, those silver wires of tension appearing and beginning fray between us once again. If it were any other circumstance, any other male, I would have perhaps scoffed, laughed at the thought of it; but I could tell it was genuine. “The moment I saw you, amongst the chaos, the blood, the brutality of it all, when I saw you take that soldiers head off his shoulders as if it was effortless; I pictured you, training our warriors, guiding our females.” I felt his heart slow beneath my palm with his words. It was the bare honest truth.

His hazel eyes, still so bright despite the darkness of night, met mine as if he was searching for something. I could feel the sickness that had raked through my body begin to settle, the pounding of my heart in my ears a mirror to his.

“I will lead your women to success.” I breathed, rather overwhelmed with it all. “I promise.”

His lips turned upwards and I had grown oblivious to the fae who strolled past and gawked at the Generals presence, who gawked at my hand on his heart.

“And in return, I may have a gift for you.” My hand slid from his chest, the clammy skin of my palm subtly rubbing against the material of my dress.

“May?” I questioned, beginning to step slowly again in hopes that he would now walk beside me.

His eyes remained focused ahead, his throat bobbing and I watched as his shoulders tense slightly. I took the moments silence as an opportunity to appreciate the fine rugged features he possessed.

He swallowed. “My wings were shredded during the war,” he started, and my eyes flickered to the dark leather like skin of his wings which stood proudly behind him. The sentence alone was enough to make my skin crawl from memory, the feeling of my wings being grated from my back whilst still entirely conscious, a time I wished to forget. “Rhysand and Azriel didn’t believe they would heal, were grasping at whatever they could possibly find to help me when they came across a healer from overseas.”

My breath hitched in my throat.

“I got in contact with her the moment Rhysand returned and told me your story. It is a horrific, brutal process, but people have lived to tell the tale of how their wings have regrown as mighty and as strong as before.” My eyes began to burn. “She is a hard lady to come across, and charges a high price at that, but if it means that the General Commandress has a chance to teach our Illyrian young how to fly, it is a price I am willing to pay.”

I outstretched my hand, grasping the taught skin of his arm exposed between his different layers of leather and a wave of emotion washed over me. His siphons flared bright from the contact. “Please,” my voice wavered, and I had to take a deep breath before I continued. “I assure you I am too far gone, but please send her to a mother, a young female who has been brutalised-“

“- I can’t,” his hair flowed around his face as his head shook. “She will not treat just anyone, for her own safety. The process takes so much of her power that she is only able to treat so many and if the tradition struck males who still continue the practice find out such a thing is happening, they will try to kill her.”

I couldn’t speak, and if I did I would only cry.

He looked at me one last time before we reached the House, yet even then I still couldn’t find the words to express how I felt.

It was once he was flying me up those ten thousand stairs, the air tunnelling in around us, the night sky our only witness as my grip around his neck and shoulders tightened. He looked to me with concern, the beat of his wings slowing as I nodded. Nodded with tears brimming in my eyes, and I could have sworn I felt that tap beneath my chest once again.

•

A horrible, brutal process. That’s how he described it.

I described it as a painful, slow transition into death.

Within a matter of a few days, Cassian and Rhysand had left to seek out the healer, and bought back an elderly female who spoke very little words.

Hunched beside my bed in a hood of charcoal grey, her spindly fingers tugged and pulled at my aching bones, prodded at the fire ignited beneath my skin. She offered no pain relief, no special tea to ease the burning of my skin or my muscle which felt as if it was being picked away from my flesh.

I laid there for two solid days, unable to bathe, unable to eat or drink or even do as much as open my eyes for longer than a few seconds. It was as if the treatment had drained every ounce of energy, every drip of soul and life out of my body and scattered it along the streets of Velaris. She hardly mumbled two words to me during the trauma of it all, she only told me that once she was finished, I would sleep.

Everyone had tried to visit, which I could only decipher who from the sounds of their voices, my black spotted vision merging all of their faces into one. And even then I had a difficult time, the ringing in my ears like a choir of screaming children from the moment it began, to the moment it finished.

The only remedy gifted to me for my pain was Cassian.

He came once it began, and came just before I fell into darkness; sprawled along the bed beside me with his boots dangled over edge. I remember the flashes of his face in my distant memory, the way he looked down at me and swiped the hair from my sweat beaded forehead, how once I began to shiver he had lifted the covers over my trembling convulsing body; despite the healers protests.

Although I could hardly decipher the words he spoke to me during that time, I could remember as my eyes drifted open and closed that his mouth moved and he said,

“The General Commandress of the Night Court,”

Before his lips brushed my temple and he left one last time.

•

My sticky eyelids peeled open, a soaring ache shooting through my spine once I gained consciousness. At first I believed I was dead, that the heavenly view of Velaris from the arched bedroom window was a result of my soul leaving my body and entering the over world. But I was very much alive, and all of this was real.

I blinked a couple of times, fingers twitching beneath the sweat saturated sheets until they gained back some sensation. My breath was shallow, shuddering and warm.

And then I saw it from the corner of my eye, creeping into my vision like a shadow. Black membrane, delicately stretched over wires of bone; veins like thunderbolts in the nights sky; new muscles beneath my shoulder blades which twitched with every strained movement.

I couldn’t even look at them, my eyes immediately screwing closed as nothing but joy escaped them. Hot salty tears streamed down my flushed cheeks, slipping into the corners of my dry mouth. With every shudder of my shoulders, pain shot through my body like arrows being twisted through muscle, and yet the pain was welcomed. Something I had dreamt of since they were carved from my body, something I never deemed could be possible before my very eyes. And I couldn’t even look.

Eventually, as my sobs turned into quiet gasps and my shoulders grew still, my eyes slowly trailed from my clenched trembling fists to the great wing draped from the side of the bed and along the grey stone floors. I twisted my torso, and despite the pain, they shuddered; the sound like the echo of a storm along a cabin roof, powerful and mighty.

I could have kept my eyes strained on them for hours and still believe it wasn’t real. No matter how much I twisted and turned and tensed that new found muscle in my back, making them flinch and flutter along the floor, I couldn’t believe it was real.

My curiosity got the better of me, the creaking bones in my legs shifting from the bed until my feet grazed the ground softly. I winced and hissed as I planted my feet on the ground, hauling the heavy weight of my wings like a sack of bricks slung over each shoulder. My knees caved at first, my backside hitting the bed and almost flattening the mattress with the added weight of my muscle. But I tried again, and again, until I was finally able to stand.

Determination pushed through my veins as I took that first step, wings dragging along the floor behind me. I could feel the spirit of my mother slap me on the back of the head, ‘lazy thing,’ she would scold me if I let them anywhere near close to the ground. I used the bedposts to haul my weight towards the bathroom, my hand slamming down heavily on top of the door handle as I reached the threshold of the bedroom. I near crawled to the sink.

Starring back at me through glitter like glass, were my wings. Although they still skimmed the cool ivory tiles of the bathroom, peaks of high muscle towered high above my head, much higher than Rhysand’s, Azriel’s, Cassian’s. Goosebumps coated my body as my eyes trailed to the apex, where bone like talons should have pointed towards my head. Yet there wasn’t any to be seen, instead, glowing bright crystals of emerald green, emeralds which seemed to flicker with every twinge of pain in my body.

Siphons. My talons had been replaced with siphons.

My mind burned as I focused on them, eyes narrowed at the near foreign reflection which starred back at me. And as if the wings themselves held a mind of their own, two threads of glowing green light poured from the tips and laced around the widest points; outstretching them so wide that they almost skimmed the walls of the spacious bathroom.

For the first time in what seemed an eternity, a smile of genuine happiness spread across my face, excitement and nerves all bundled into one spinning and erupting inside of me like a flame to liquor.

My happiness, my wings.

•

Azriel had found me clawing at the stairs in my night wear, attempting to find my way to a hot meal and a very strong glass of whiskey.

I was in absolutely no state to be seen by the circle, however considering they had watched me wither in the same sweat stained clothes for three consecutive days, I no longer cared.

Those days before the healer came, I had grown closer to the group; it was as if I was slowly slotting into place. My mornings would consist of sparring with Cassian, treading the ice crusted Illyrian grounds and throwing grimaces towards the Commander of Windhaven; by night, we would all bound together to eat dinner and share stories until our eyes grew tired and our glasses were no longer full.

My family by flesh and blood had died so long ago; majority of my soldiers joining them high above the clouds in the over world. It seemed like the Mother was gifting me opportunity upon opportunity to be surrounded by love and warmth. And here, I no longer had to care for everyone. Instead, I was cared for. It had been years since I had indulged in such a rich feeling.

Azriel’s arm clasped clasped below the stem of my wings, his fingers pressed into my side as he slowly lowered me to each step with a shaky breath, almost as if he was afraid he may hurt me. Each time my foot would hover in the air, he’d count down from three, bracing me for the strain which would shoot from my feet, all the way to my wings. He was a dark soul, yet a quiet one; gentle, almost.

Once he set eyes on my wings for the first time, the look on his face was priceless; bulging sockets with a mouth hung wide open, I had wished Cassian was there to see it. It was the most emotion I had ever seen on him, it made pride swell in my chest.

He hoisted me to the sitting room, although I had healed enough to make a few pathetic steps, and swung the heavy doors open with what seemed like an effortless push. I raised my eyebrows at the motion, my mind still partially hazy from the trauma which had been inflicted on my body.

The High Lord let out a low whistle at the sight, Feyre’s eyes practically rolling out of her head and onto the polished marble floor beneath her.

“And they say an Illyrian males length could be determined by his wingspan.” Rhysand said beneath his breath.

“Don’t listen to him.” Azriel muttered through gritted teeth.

I shot the High Lord a glare, which he simply winked at in response.

Azriel settled me into a chair which faced the two fae, briskly walking off to retrieve my glass of aged liquor and a hot plate of food. I grumbled and groaned as I shifted, my wings draped along both arms of the plush velvet seat and fluttering along the cool floor.

Feyre’s eyes darted over my face. “How are you feeling?” She asked, yet answered her own question shortly after. “You look rather well - in fact, you’re glowing.” She beamed her pearly white teeth.

I almost glared at her, but I pulled back the muscles in my face before I could. “I feel like I’ve been shot with one thousand arrows.” I murmured, my lips pressing into a firm line of thanks as Azriel set a crystal cut glass into my palm, filled three-quarters of the way with amber liquid.

I threw it back in one gulp. It didn’t even touch the sides.

My head nodded towards the High Lord as Azriel disappeared once again, as quiet as a cat.

“You can remove the tattoo now that I have my wings.” I said.

He furrowed his eyebrows, his bottom lip curling outwards as he looked towards his mate.

Feyre’s posture straightened slightly, lips mewled together as she looked down at her slender hands clasped in her lap.

I raised my eyebrows at her.

“I gave you the tattoo.” Was all she said.

My mouth fell open slightly, head jolting to rearrange my thoughts.

“What?” I asked.

Azriel walked back in, a bowl of stew with crusted bread plated at its side in his grasp. He settled it down on the coffee table before me, a spoon just beside it, lining up almost perfectly. He stalked around the back of my chair to find a pew of his own.

“You didn’t make a bargain with Rhys, simply agreed to come to our court… It was me who made a bargain with you.”

Her words failed to register in my brain. All of a sudden my roaring hunger had vanished.

“Well,” she chuckled to herself, rather satisfactory, “I made a bargain with myself regarding you.” She explained, however I remained in the dark, absolutely none the wiser.

My mouth opened to speak, yet no words came out.

I went to breathe, but the breath got caught in my throat.

“I promised myself that you would find true happiness here, that I would not rest until your heart was content.”

My face had entirely twisted with confusion. I almost thought she must have believed I was ungrateful to have my wings back. Which couldn’t be further from the truth.

A mischievous smile etched its way to her lips, her shimmering grey eyes meeting mine through her thick lashes as she slowly stirred her tea.

“It seems to me as though your heart isn’t entirely full yet.”

[hurriane23456]

Training in Tandem

Jake’s heart was pounding as he stepped into the Coca-Cola training facility. The sterile, corporate hallway belied the whimsical role he was about to take on: being the Coca-Cola bear mascot. He’d stumbled across the job listing on a whim, applied, and somehow made it through the process. Now, here he was on his first day, ready to make a fluffy splash.

Inside the training room, Jake’s eyes locked onto the mascot suit hanging from a rack. It was enormous, with its white fur, oversized belly, and signature Coca-Cola scarf. Standing next to it was Mike, Jake’s trainer. Mike looked like he belonged on the cover of a fitness magazine: chiseled jaw, perfect posture, and an easy confidence that made Jake instantly self-conscious.

“Jake, right?” Mike asked with a bright smile, extending a hand.

Jake nodded and shook his hand. “Yeah, that’s me. Nice to meet you.”

Mike gestured to the suit. “So, ready to become the Coca-Cola bear? Let’s get you suited up.”

Jake approached the suit with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Mike unzipped the back, revealing the padded interior.

“Okay, step in one leg at a time,” Mike said, holding the suit open.

Jake kicked off his shoes and stepped inside. The padded legs felt heavy, and he struggled to balance as he slid one leg in, then the other.

“Good, now pull it up,” Mike said, guiding Jake as he tugged the suit over his torso.

Jake pushed his arms into the sleeves, the padding making every movement clumsy. Mike zipped the suit up the back and secured the headpiece over Jake’s head, plunging him into a muffled world of limited vision.

“How’s it feel?” Mike asked, his voice slightly distorted through the suit’s material.

“Hot,” Jake replied. “And kind of tight.”

Mike chuckled. “You’ll get used to it. Now, let’s practice some moves. Remember, the bear is all about being friendly and approachable—lots of big gestures.”

For the next hour, Jake stumbled through the motions, waving, bouncing, and pretending to hug invisible fans. Sweat trickled down his back, soaking into his clothes, but he powered through. Finally, Mike called for a break.

Jake peeled off the headpiece and gulped down the water Mike handed him.

“You’re doing great,” Mike said, sitting next to him. “But I’ve got an idea to help you learn faster.”

“What’s that?” Jake asked.

Mike grinned. “We’ll go through a shift together. I’ll get into the suit with you, so I can show you exactly how it’s done.”

Jake blinked. “Both of us? In the suit?”

“Yep,” Mike said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “It’s tight, but it works. We’ll need to strip down to our underwear, though—otherwise, it’ll get way too hot.”

Jake hesitated, but he didn’t want to seem unprofessional—or worse, like a coward. “Uh, okay. Sure.”

Mike stood and unzipped Jake’s suit. As Jake wriggled out of it, Mike explained, “This’ll help you feel the movements in real time. You’ll learn faster this way.”

Once Jake was out of the suit, Mike looked at him expectantly. “All right, time to strip down.”

Jake swallowed hard and started unbuttoning his shirt. He tried not to look as Mike casually peeled off his own clothes, revealing a perfectly toned chest and abs. By the time Mike was down to his black boxer briefs, Jake was standing awkwardly in his plain gray boxers, feeling self-conscious.

“Don’t worry,” Mike said with a reassuring grin. “This is just part of the job.”

Mike helped Jake climb back into the suit first, guiding his legs into place. The padding felt strange against his bare skin, and the added weight made him feel even more awkward.

“Now me,” Mike said, climbing in behind Jake.

Jake froze as he felt Mike’s body press against his back. Mike’s chest was firm, warm, and impossibly close. Every shift of movement sent a jolt of sensation through Jake, leaving him feeling flustered—and more than a little embarrassed at how erotic it all felt.

“You good?” Mike asked, his voice close to Jake’s ear.

“Y-yeah,” Jake stammered.

Mike adjusted his arms, guiding Jake’s hands into the sleeves while slipping his own arms in alongside. Then he zipped up the back of the suit, pulling them even closer together.

Jake couldn’t help but notice how snug the fit was. Mike’s breath was warm against the back of his neck, and every slight movement made their bodies press together.

“Okay,” Mike said. “Let’s get the head on.”

Together, they lifted the bear’s headpiece and strapped it securely. Jake felt the added weight settle over him, along with the surreal realization of being this close to someone—especially someone like Mike.

“Ready?” Mike asked.

“Yeah,” Jake managed, his voice unsteady.

They stepped out onto the training floor together, moving as one. Mike guided Jake through every gesture and interaction, his voice calm and instructive. Jake’s nerves began to fade as he focused on the mechanics of the role.

By the end of the shift, they’d posed for photos, hugged imaginary fans, and perfected the bear’s playful bounce. Despite the heat and the awkward proximity, Jake couldn’t deny the thrill of the experience—or the strange connection he felt to Mike.

When they finally peeled off the suit, both drenched in sweat, Mike grinned at Jake.

“Not bad for your first day,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Jake smiled back, feeling both exhausted and exhilarated. This might just be the weirdest job he’d ever had—but it was starting to feel like it might also be the best.

[gravitycavity]

Sunshine (Pomni x Ragatha) Chapter 1 - Put On a Happy Face

[Click here to read from the beginning on AO3!]

Cover art by @blukiar

“You’re supposed to $%#&ing smile, Pomni!” Zooble's hoarse scream reverberated throughout the big top. “Are you stupid?! We can’t finish the new intro if you aren’t @#$%ing smiling!”

“Leave. Me. Alone!” Pomni, denied the catharsis of slinging her sailor’s mouth, expressed her disdain with her middle fingers instead. She only ended up seething harder, however, when a pair of other-dimensional censor bars appeared to obscure the rude gestures.

“Oh! So that’s how you want to play it, Puffball?” Zooble narrowed her eyes, limping toward the jester with as much aggression as their awkwardly-constructed body would allow — which, for the record, wasn’t very much.

Ragatha had seen enough. “Relax!” She raised her voice, swooping vigilantly between the bickering belligerents. “Both of you!”

Gangle, moping off to the side, sniveled pitifully. In all the commotion, her comedy mask had been shattered. For the second time. This morning. “Guys…! Please, just stop fighting…”

Jax crossed his legs, reclining smartly against Kinger’s impenetrable pillow fort. “Can it, crybaby. This is the best entertainment we’ve had in years!” He flicked a piece of popcorn into the air and caught it in his mouth. Meanwhile, a vibrating Kinger poked his eyes out from between two pillows, saying nothing and everything at the same time.

Ragatha’s good-natured attempts to keep the peace were all for naught. She flinched out of the way of Zooble’s punch — but before the strike could connect, a floating boxing bell materialized out of nowhere, piercing the air with a shrill shriek.

“Now, now! There’s no need for that!” Caine’s wagging finger appeared beside the bell, followed shortly after by the rest of the entity. He lifted his tophat, and a cheesing Bubble gingerly drifted out.

“Naughty, naughty~” Bubble chomped his teeth.

Caine snapped his fingers, and an unseen force pushed Pomni and Zooble apart. “The Amazing Digital Circus — copyright 1996 C&A Incorporated, all rights reserved — is a magical, marvelous CD-Romp for all ages! Zany shenanigans and cartoon mischief I can abide, but outright violence? Strictly out of the question!”

With a grunt, Zooble spiked their arm against the floor. “What are we supposed to do, then!? We’re on take fifty-seven of your dumb@%$ theme song because poor little Pomni thinks she’s the main character of the universe!”

Pomni responded to that, but whatever she said, it was profane enough to be scrubbed out entirely.

“Yes, well…” Caine crossed his arms, steeped in careful thought. The last hour-and-a-half of unusable footage played back through his mismatched eyeballs in a matter of seconds. “It’s nothing we can’t fix in post.”

Zooble swiped their discarded arm off the ground and crammed it back into its empty socket. “Great. Then you can edit me in, too.” They stormed off, reciprocating Pomni’s earlier gesture. “Eat $@#%, sad sack.”

Jax sighed. “Aw, shucks. Right when things were getting good…”

“Uh…!” Caine skipped a beat. He swiveled toward the five circus members still gathered beneath the big top. “Well, then!” he elbowed his soap bubble companion, “Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us, Bubble! As for the rest of you, consider yourselves off the hook for the rest of the day — my treat! Take some personal time, get some sleep, and try your darndest not to dwell on the soul-crushing scale of eternity!”

“I have no soul!” Bubble turned upside-down. “So I don’t mind it one bit!”

“You and me both, old pal!” Caine’s laugh sounded forced and unnatural.

There was a pause. Gangle glanced around, then meekly raised her ribbony hand. “But what about—”

“Go on, now! I won’t take no for an answer!” the ringmaster stabbed the air with his cane, “I want you all in tip-top condition for tomorrow’s wacky adventure!”

🎪 🎪 🎪

It wasn’t long before everyone had gone their separate ways. Jax had slinked off to the digital carnival to terrorize the NPCs, Gangle had left a trail of teardrops all the way to the digital lake, and Kinger, as per usual, had just disappeared without anyone really noticing.

At last, Pomni was alone again. She curled her tear-stained face inward and filled her chest with three shaky breaths. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. Hands tightened into trembling fists, she threw her head toward the sky and let loose a long, ear-shattering shriek.

Why was this happening to her? What did she ever do to deserve this!? She was a person — a human being, for God’s sake — not some stupid, one-dimensional children’s character. How dare anyone expect her to just grin and bear it? She didn’t owe anything to anyone — not even one second of feigned emotion. As far as she was concerned, the moment she forced that goofy smile onto her face would be the moment she surrendered, and she would never, ever, in a million years—

“I’m always here if you need to talk. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

Pomni flinched, wrenching away from the sudden voice. After the emotional hell she’d gone through during her first day, unexpected noises didn’t exactly put her at ease — nor did anything else in this deranged digital purgatory, for that matter.

“Ah! Sorry!” Ragatha covered her mouth. “I didn’t spook you too bad, did I?”

“You did, actually! Wh-What’s wrong with you?” Pomni gathered herself quickly. She didn’t dare to even look in the direction of the person who had just watched her childish tantrum. The moment she found her footing again, she stormed off like her very life depended on it. “Don’t just sneak up on people like that!”

Silently relenting, Ragatha stepped aside to let Pomni pass. She watched the pouting jester jingle and jangle with every step, stomping with boundless confidence in the completely wrong direction.

“Uh…” Ragatha tilted her head. “Pomni? Do you remember the way to your room?”

“Ugh! What do you care?” Pomni doubled her pace. “Mind your own business!”

Ragatha smirked. “Alright, I guess I’ll just head back to my room, then. Which, for the record…” She pointed behind herself, “…is that way.”

Pomni stared vacantly as Ragatha sauntered off. The doll had read her like a book. Locking herself in her room for days on end meant she still had no clue how to get around the tent — if she wanted to get back to her regularly-scheduled self-pity anytime soon, she would have to swallow whatever was left of her pride.

Pomni grumbled under her breath, fast-walking to catch up. “Hey! W-Wait!”

🎪 🎪 🎪

There was no ambient noise to dampen the tension; the dormitory hall’s plush carpet absorbed the sound of Pomni and Ragatha’s footsteps. Ragatha led, hands tucked politely below her waist, while Pomni trailed behind.

The complete, unbroken silence wasn’t exactly the most comfortable thing in the world, but it was preferable to whatever inane smalltalk would have filled it. That’s how Pomni saw things, at least.

In the time it had taken to walk here, she had managed to cool off a bit — and the unwavering quiet gave her plenty of mental space to reflect on the last few minutes.

She wasn’t sorry. Pomni didn’t care if Zooble hated her — she could hate them right back. Breaking bread with Jax was pointless; that creep preferred to provoke. Gangle was friendly, but to interact with her was to walk on eggshells, and Pomni lacked the patience. And Kinger? Was Kinger.

Arms crossed, Pomni looked up from her big, dumb clown shoes. Her gaze settled on the doll in front of her. Pomni despised everything about this place — but now that she was going through her laundry list of grievances, she had to admit: she had nothing on the redhead.

…What was her name? Ragatha…? She was by far the most mature of the circus’s captives. She was kind. Predictable. An island of calm in a stormy sea.

Pomni’s harsh features softened. Ragatha was the only character who had shown her the slightest shred of compassion since she’d arrived here. The realization weighed down her stomach with more than a few pangs of guilt. Ragatha, of all people, certainly wasn’t a deserving outlet for her angst.

Oh, no — nice going, you idiot. Ragatha was the one thing about this place keeping you anywhere close to sanity, and you’ve already repelled her by acting like a petulant child. She probably hates you now. You know that, right? Actually, it’s not ‘probably’. It’s ‘definitely’. That’s why she isn’t talking. That’s why this is so awkward. That’s why —

“So…what’s under your cap?”

Pomni stumbled. Had the wall not been there to grab onto, she absolutely would have fallen flat on her face.

Stabilizing herself, Pomni gawked up at Ragatha as if the doll had just beamed down from another planet. What’s under her cap? Did she hear that right? It was such an odd, out-of-the-blue question — but at least it had yanked her out of her head.

“I’m sorry?”

Ragatha bent down to Pomni’s eye level. “Your cap.” She said gently, resisting the urge to prod one of the little bells dangling from either end. “It comes off, doesn’t it?”

Pomni blinked. She hadn’t really given it any thought. In fact, until Ragatha had brought it up, she had forgotten that her ridiculous new form came with a hat at all. Doing nothing but hiding under the covers and sobbing for days on end had that effect.

With much bigger problems weighing on her mind, Pomni didn’t really care to check — but something about Ragatha’s expectant gaze possessed her anyway. Very carefully, she hooked her fingers beneath the golden rim. She felt a small amount of resistance as she pushed up, almost as if the headpiece were attached to her body through some kind of magnetic force.

With a just a little effort, though, it popped right off.

“…Huh.” Pomni held the striped cap in her hands. “Look at that.”

“Oh, goodness!” Ragatha tried and failed to suppress a squeal. She paid no mind to her question’s answer, too distracted by the worst hat hair anyone had ever seen. It was certainly a look; a chaotic mess of tangles, knots, and flyaways did as it pleased atop the jester’s capless crown.

“Hey! What gives?!” Pomni ducked her cap back onto her head. A few extra clumps of hair stuck out from underneath. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m so sorry! Your hair is just…” Ragatha giggled. “Well, it’s a bit messy at the moment. But I like it!”

Pomni leered. “…Liar.”

“I’m not making fun of you! Honest!” Ragatha crossed her hands over her heart. “I love your hair, Pomni. It’s…”

“It’s what?!”

“It’s so cute!”

Pomni’s eyes grew two sizes. That was…not the answer she expected to hear. She didn’t know what to say — just that her face felt a lot warmer than before.

“Obviously, you could use a comb…or three. But who cares about that?” Ragatha’s hand drifted through her own thick, yarn-like locks. “You really lucked out, you know. I’d trade your hair for mine in a heartbeat.”

Despite everything, the smallest of half-smiles lit Pomni’s face.

“I, um…” Pomni took a deep breath. And then two more. Her whole body slumped closer to the floor. Try as she might to keep her personal pity party alive, Ragatha’s radiant energy made her forget her troubles, if only for a moment.

“…Why are you being so nice? And to me, of all people?”

Ragatha just shrugged. “Do I have a reason not to be?”

Pomni gripped her other arm, gaze flicking down the corridor. Her smile faded in the silence.

“Well, um, anyway…” Ragatha glanced at the door behind her — Pomni’s awkwardness was infectious. “You have your room key, right?”

Pomni’s heart skipped at the thought of having lost it, but eased at the feeling of cold metal in her pocket. She nodded.

Gently, Ragatha took the cartoonish key from Pomni’s hand. With a turn and a click, the way to the jester’s room was open.

Ragatha held the door, smiling warmly. “You look like you could use some space. Go enjoy some quality alone time, okay, new stuff?”

“O-Okay.” Pomni didn’t hesitate to do just that — until she did. “Um…” She peeked behind a door half-open. After the longest pause, a simple, stammered “thanks” was all she could manage to get out.

Her door clicked shut. And audibly locked.

My Ko-fi - Tips are very much appreciated! :)

[Next Chapter]

[gwerlinforthewin]

Insomniac—Dean Winchester x reader

I rolled over in bed and glanced wearily at the alarm clock on my nightstand. 2:13. I sighed heavily and sat up. Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed and standing, I hissed at the icy floor beneath my bare feet. “Guess I’m not sleeping tonight…” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes and wandering down the hallway to the living room where I was planning to veg out and watch classic TV until it was time for me to get ready for the day.

I didn’t get very far though, as I heard somebody pounding on my front door, the wood splintering under the blows of the intruder’s kicks. I felt white-hot panic flood my body and screamed. I wanted desperately to run, to grab the gun in my closet, to call for help, but I was paralysed with fear.

I finally managed to force my feet to move, but not quickly enough. The stranger had gotten the door down and was now charging me. “Who the hell are you!?!” I screamed, trying to keep moving, but the intruder was so much stronger, grabbing me by the throat and lifting me off the ground.

“I’m the demon whose wife is dead because you broke into our home and slaughtered her, filthy hunter!” The demon screeched, clutching my throat harder and slamming me against the wall. I was beginning to lose consciousness when two, tall, muscular men burst through what was left of my door and barrelled into the demon. Without his chokehold supporting me, I fell to the floor in a heap, gasping for air and moaning in pain.

“Sam! Get her out of here!” The shorter one called, pinning the demon to the floor and holding a strange knife to its throat.

The taller one with the long hair nodded and without hesitation scooped me off the floor, his strong arms cradling me as he carried me out of the house and to a black Impala, laying me down in the backseat of the car.

“Are you okay?” He inquired, helping me sit up and checking my body as the other man lumbered out of my house stealthily, a familiar duffel bag dangling from his arms as he trotted over.

I nodded warily. “Who are you guys, and what are you doing bursting into my house?” I wondered, clambering out of the backseat and retreating a few steps, eyeing these two men and calculating the odds of me taking them down on my own and escaping if I needed to.

The taller one stepped forward. “I’m Sam Winchester. This is my brother, Dean.” He replied, gesturing to the other man, his sandy hair ruffled and green eyes filled with adrenaline from the fight. “We’re-”

I held up a hand. “I know what you are, I’m a hunter too.” I blurted. “You two are popular in our world.” I offered, remembering all of the things I’d heard about these two brothers. Saving people. Hunting things. It ran in their family.

Dean’s face furrowed in confusion. “You’re a hunter?”

“Don’t sound so condescending.” I responded bitterly. “I wasn’t always. I had a normal life. The picket fence, the minivan, all of it. But, one morning a werewolf broke into our house and slaughtered my father and sister.” I recanted, slowly looking both of them in the face.

Sam’s face fell in understanding, and Dean just sighed like it was his last breath. “Well, I’m sorry that that was how this started, but believe me, it gets...less horrible.”

I laughed bitterly. “Huh, well, I guess that’s something to look forward to…”

Sam laughed once humorlessly and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Come on, you’re coming with us.”

I gave them both a wry smile and moved to pull away. “Look, I appreciate all your help, and thanks for saving me, but I don’t need-”

Dean grabbed my arm and steered me into the Impala anyway. “Sorry, you’re coming with us for now. We have to make sure you’re safe. At least for the night.” He shrugged, closing my door behind me and climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Don’t I get a say in this?!”

Sam just turned from his spot next to Dean and shot me a puppy dog look, eyes wide and lips pouty. I fought the urge to smile and give in, following them to their bunker and wherever else they led me, and I failed miserably.

“Fine.” I moaned, flopping back against the seat. “But only for the night.”

The boys laughed and Dean shot me a smirk in the mirror. “Whatever you say.”

One year later, we were back in the Impala, heading back to the bunker and hopefully, to bed. What can I say, one night turned into one week, and I just fell easily into the routine of having other people to hunt with, to fall back on, to be friends with. We were a family now.

“Sammy, nice work killing that Wendigo back there.” Dean implored, steering the car in front of the bunker and throwing her into park.

“Thanks, but Y/N did all the work, I just lit the fire.” Sam replied, following Dean into the lair with me close behind, locking the door.

Dean whirled to face me and gave me an approving once-over, bringing a blush to my cheeks. “Well, then, excellent work, Y/N.” He crowed, patting me on the shoulder. “I’m off to get some shut-eye.”

And with that, Dean lumbered off to his room, leaving Sam and I at the table in the center of the room. Sam turned to me and grinned wickedly. “You know he likes you, right?”

I blushed deeper and smacked his arm. “He does not, he just thinks I’m a good hunter, that’s all.” I replied, trying to ignore Sam’s various eyebrow wiggles. Dean and I had grown fairly close over the past year and yes, I’d managed to develop a crush on the green-eyed hunter, but I knew where acting on those feelings would lead. Dean was a ladies' man, and I was just the new girl in the group. The rookie. He saw me as a little sister, not a girlfriend.

Sam shot me an incredulous look. “Y/N. I know him better than anyone, and I know when he likes a girl.” He assured me, bringing his head to one side and meeting my gaze.

I batted a hand at him but I began to wonder, Maybe he does like me….he has been really flirty lately...but, that’s just Dean! I rambled mentally, my confusion evidently must’ve been prominent on my features, because Sam chuckled and grabbed my shoulders.

“Go talk to him.” He ordered, pushing me towards Dean’s room. I staggered a little, finally regaining my footing and glaring back at him, earning a Sam tongue stuck out at me in return.

“If this ends up bad, I’m coming for you, Moose.” I promised, Sam’s laugh following me as I slowly opened the door to my doom. “Dean?”

Dean’s head snapped up to look at me, his face breaking out into a huge grin when he saw me and his emerald eyes shone with surprise.

“Hey, Y/N! What brings you to Chez Dean?” He wondered, standing fluidly and striding behind me and shutting the door, beckoning me in.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the only noise that came out sounded nothing like a human. Dean’s eyes widened and I cleared my throat, trying desperately to spit out the words I’d come in here to say.

“You okay?” Dean inquired, his sculpted face wary as he eyed me up and down. I blushed furiously and nodded. This is so embarrassing! I should just bail, it’s not like he ever thinks of me that way...Damn it, Y/N, do it!

“Dean, I like you.” I blurted, my eyes clamping shut as soon as the words left my mouth. Obviously I couldn’t see his reaction, but judging by the stunned silence, I could make a good guess.

I heard him mutter something under his breath and his footsteps moved closer until I could feel his body heat leaving him in waves and crashing over my shaking body. I felt his large hands grab my face, and after what felt like hours, I opened my eyes.

Dean was inches from me, his green eyes bright with a fire that filled me with hope, and his lips were pursed in a smirk. “When you say like…”

“I love you.” I managed, my eyes stinging with the hot tears that were quickly filling them. The fact that he hadn’t mentioned his feelings back really wasn’t helping my confidence. “Well, now that that’s out of the way, I’m out of here…” I mumbled, turning to flee when Dean’s hand wrapped around my wrist tightly.

“Wait.” He called, pulling me back against his chest and spinning me around, waiting until I met his gaze before he continued. “Y/N, I love you too. I have since that first night you stayed with us.” He admitted sheepishly.

I felt my heart soar and I fought to keep myself from cheering. “But, why didn’t you say anything?”

Dean shot me an exasperated stare. “If you were nervous to tell me, imagine how I felt.”

I nodded once in understanding, and before I could ask him any more questions, Dean swooped in and kissed me, his full lips crushing my own with a need that I’d been dying to return for a year. Our lips moved in perfect harmony, my head spinning in the moment. Dean Winchester is kissing me, DEAN WINCHESTER IS KISSING ME! My brain screamed at me while I tried to remember to kiss back and breathe at the same time.

Once the kiss, sadly, ended, we sat in silence for a minute before Sam burst in, surprising me and Dean, his strong arms still wrapped protectively around me.

Sam’s face broke into a knowing smile and he chuckled. “About time.” I felt myself blush lightly and Dean scoffed teasingly as Sam left us to ourselves again.

Dean pulled my face back to his and gave me another earth-shattering kiss. I began to get a little dizzy, but I wasn’t complaining when he pulled away and planted light brushes of his lips over my temple, cheek, neck and collarbone.

I sighed dreamily and muttered, “Thank God for insomnia.”

[trippiexlove]

Snooze

Author Note: I am just offloading all my one shots I have in the drafts lol. This is a part two to my CARE one shots, with Josh and Solana. Read the first part linked here. Based off the song Snooze by SZA <3

Warning: None, just Fluff

Pairing: Jey Uso x Black OC

Word Count: 3,162

Face claim - SZA

I can't lose when I'm with you... I can't just snooze and miss the moment... You just too important... Nobody do body like you do..you do...

The vocal booth felt suffocating. Solana ripped off her headphones, the unfinished track echoing in the sudden silence. A frustrated groan escaped her lips as she rubbed her temples, the elusive melody still stubbornly out of reach. Ken paused the recording, his brow furrowed with concern. "Lana, what's up? You've been...off all morning."

Solana looked up, her eyes heavy. She couldn't hide it anymore. "It's...Josh." The name hung in the air, weighted with unspoken tension. They'd clashed two nights ago, a messy tangle of missed calls, misinterpreted texts, and the aching loneliness of forced distance. A stupid fight, really, born from the very thing they both hated: being apart.

Now, a wall of silence stood between them. He'd resorted to calling their kids' iPads just to hear their voices, a hollow substitute for a real conversation. She knew the demands of their careers, the constant travel, the unavoidable separations. But knowing it didn't make the emptiness any less real, or the stubborn refusal to pick up the phone any easier to bear. The frustration with the song was just a symptom, a manifestation of the deeper ache in her heart.

Solana was just missing her man. 

Wanting to just be up under him. It didn't make it better that she was going on tour soon. With it being Wrestlemania season, that means Josh would be spending more time on the road than at home. 

"Yeah I'm good Ken" she gave him a slight smile. Hoping that it was enough for him.

He slowly nodded, leaning forward on the sound board. "Alright then, sing that note like need to girl" making Solana laugh a bit. 

She nodded putting the headphones back on. She closed her eyes, letting the soft beat consume her. She started belting out the lyrics to the song. Before she knew it she sung through the whole song. No breaks. 

"Now that's what I'm talkin' bout" Solana eyes popped open at the deep raspy voice. A tiny gasp coming from her. Shocked to see her husband-- who wasn't supposed to be home til next week-- standing before her. Ken no longer in the studio. Josh tilted his head as he stared right back at her. "You just gon' stare or come out that booth?."

Solana reacted instantly. The music cut off abruptly as she ripped the headphones from her ears, the cushioned cups clattering against the far wall. She bolted from the sound booth, a whirlwind of pent-up energy, and launched herself into Josh's waiting arms. He caught her easily, his strong arms wrapping around her as she clung to him, her legs instinctively locking around his waist.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice a mixture of surprise and relief. She leaned back slightly, her gaze searching his, though her legs remained securely wrapped around him. "You're not supposed to be home for another week."

"I know," he nodded, his eyes warm and reassuring. "But I didn't like how our conversation went the other day, and I needed to talk to you face-to-face."

Solana slid down, her feet touching the ground, but she remained nestled within the circle of his arms. "Yeah, I didn't like it either." She guided him towards the plush, worn couch in the corner of the studio, and they sank into its soft cushions. Solana instinctively draped her legs across his lap, a familiar gesture of comfort. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice laced with sincerity. "I shouldn't have let my emotions get the best of me. I should have just talked to you calmly about how I was feeling."

Josh nodded, his hand gently stroking her leg. "You have to tell me how you're feeling baby" His voice sincere. 

Solana rested her head on her hand, propped up on the back of the couch, her gaze drifting towards the ceiling. "I guess," she paused, searching for the right words, "it might seem silly, but honestly, we've been apart for weeks, and I just...missed you so much."

"I've been missin' you too, ma," he said, his voice soft and husky. "We've both been crazy busy lately, but I promise, there's never a second I don't think bout you, bout y'all."

"I know that, babe," she replied, her eyes dropping to her hands, where she nervously twirled the delicate wedding band on her finger. "It's just...the distance gets hard sometimes."

Josh used his index finger to lift her gaze to his. "It's hard for me too. If I could lay up under you all day you know I would" Solana let out a soft laugh as he gazed into her eyes. "That's why I'm here, to steal you away"

Solana lifted her eyebrow in confusion "What you mean?"

"I mean we got a private to catch in a few hours so you need to go pack" Josh could see that she was about to protest and quickly cut her off "I ain't takin' no for an answer, so you might as well cut that out"

She playfully rolled her eyes as they both stood up. "How you gon' tell me to just pack up and leave on short notice?"

"Cause I run shit round here" he laid a playful smack to her backside, earning him a glare from Solana. She grabbed all her things before they made the trip back home. Josh had already dropped the kids off with her mom. 

Solana was on the floor of her closet, confused on what to pack. Josh walked in with his bag in his hand. "You didn't even tell me where we're going so I know what to bring"

"Just bring your bathing suits," he leaned against the doorframe of the closet. "actually just bring nothing at all"

Solana playfully smacked her teeth as Josh laughed, dodging the shirt she threw his way. She quickly finished packing, bringing her bag-- along with her purse-- downstairs. They loaded up in the car making the hour drive to the airport, going through the private entrance to get to the plane. 

Once settled on the plane, Solana looked out the window, sipping the champagne the flight attended served her moments ago. When they were up in the air she quickly cuddled up next to Josh.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going now?" 

"Nope you just gon' have to wait til we land in a couple hours" Solana rolled her eyes jokingly, but hissed when Josh landed a smack to her ass. "Don't be rollin' yo' eyes girl"

She hit his chest lightly before placing her head back on his shoulder. They stayed that way for the rest of the flight before hearing the pilot announce that they will be landing soon. 

Solana bat her eyes as she began waking up. The morning sun blinding her momentarily as her vision tried to adjust. 

She felt the weight of Josh's arms wrapped around her bare waist, turning around to face him. Cuddling more into him, she sighed in contentment. Josh's gripped around her tightened as he began to wake up too. 

"Good Morning" Solana leaned her head up, pecking his lips. 

"Good Morning Ma," Josh rasped out, "how long you been up?"

"Only for a moment," she closed her eyes laying her head on his chest. 

Josh could feel her breathing begin to even out. "Don't go back to sleep, we got plans today"

Solana groaned lowly "I don't want to do anything today but lay here with you" making Josh laughed lowly. 

"Trust me I want to lay here with yo' ass too," he placed a soft kiss to the top of her head. "But we got plans so we got to get up" 

Josh unwrapped his arms from her waist getting out of bed. The sudden coldness made Solana pull the covers up over her shoulders. When Josh walked around to her side, he pulled on the cover landing a smack to her exposed cheeks. "Get that ass up"

Solana groan as she turned over, laying there for a few moments before getting up. Slowly walking due to the dull ache between her legs. As she passed Josh she heard him laugh lowly. That abruptly stopped when she sent a glare his way. 

Solana scrutinized her reflection, ensuring her makeup was flawless, her wavy hair a soft, tousled frame. Josh was whisking her away, a continuation of their indulgent Fiji escape. He'd been relentlessly spoiling her, and she wasn't about to complain.

As she applied the final touch of gloss, Josh filled the doorway, his broad frame silhouetted against the soft light. "Ready, baby?" his voice, a low, resonant rumble, vibrated through her.

"Ready," she murmured, her gaze tracing the lines of his handsome silhouette. He crossed the room, his presence filling the space, and trapped her against the counter, his hands bracketing her.

His eyes, dark and intense, met hers in the mirror, igniting a blush. "You look beautiful," he breathed, his warm breath ghosting over her ear.

She turned, her smile radiant. "Thank you, handsome." A quick, playful kiss turned into a deeper embrace as his hands slid down her back, tightening at her waist, pulling her flush against him. She broke the kiss, breathless.

"We have plans," she teased, a playful lilt in her voice.

He groaned softly, releasing her. "Lucky we do." He took her hand, leading her from the suite into the balmy Fijian air.

Their day unfolded like a dream: snorkeling in turquoise waters, island hopping under the vibrant sun, culminating in a secluded beach dinner.

Solana gasped, the sight of the candlelit setup taking her breath away. The gentle lapping of waves created an intimate symphony. "You planned all this?" she asked, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Josh's proud smirk answered her. "Anything for you, aulelei" he murmured, his words warm against her skin. He guided her to the plush blanket, where dinner awaited.

"You've truly outdone yourself," she said, her voice filled with admiration.

He playfully scrunched his eyebrows. "Don't act surprised. I can be romantic." making her laugh. They dined, their conversation light and easy, the sound of the ocean a constant backdrop.

After dinner, a comfortable silence settled between them. Josh's gaze lingered on her, admiring the way the wind danced through her hair.

"What are you staring at?" she asked, a playful smirk curving her lips.

"I can't look you?" he countered, his eyes twinkling. He held out his hand. "Come here."

She slipped onto his lap, straddling him, his hands finding their familiar place on her lower back. "Let's make a promise," he said, his voice serious. "No matter the distance, we'll have each other. We'll talk, we'll check in."

"promise," she echoed, her smile soft. She extended her pinky, and he laughed, interlocking his with hers. He pulled her into a deep, lingering kiss, sealing their promise under the starlit Fijian sky.

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Lana Outside focuses on the Inside ❤️

Solana found herself back in the studio a few days after returning from the trip. Josh going back on the road, both keeping the promise they made on the beach that night. 

Ken walked into the room, going over to the soundboard before turning towards her, "you ready to finish that song" 

"Nah," Solana shook her head "I got a new song I want to do" she smiled as she tapped her pencil on her notepad. 

Solana leaned over in the mirror, checking to make sure her hair and makeup was good, til she heard a knock at the door. "Come in"

"Mommy!" The sound of her children's voices sent a wave of warmth through her. Turning, she was met with two small figures rushing towards her, their arms wrapping around her legs in a tight, eager embrace. 

"Hey, babies," she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine joy. She knelt, pulling them into a hug that squeezed a little too tightly, but she didn't care. It had been weeks since the tour began, weeks since she'd held them like this. She pressed soft kisses to the tops of their heads, savoring the familiar scent of their hair. When she finally looked up, her heart skipped a beat. Josh stood in the doorway, his eyes meeting hers, and a familiar flutter of butterflies erupted in her stomach.

After coaxing the kids onto the plush couch with their iPads, promising them a post-show treat, Solana slowly rose to her feet. She watched as Josh's gaze traveled over her, taking in the sequined one-piece that hugged her curves. The outfit was a statement, a bold declaration of her confidence, and she could see the appreciation in his eyes.

For a moment, they stood in a silent tableau, the air thick with unspoken words. Then, with a slow, deliberate saunter, Josh closed the distance between them. His towering figure loomed over her, and she felt that familiar sense of being both protected and desired. "Hey, stranger," she said, her voice a soft murmur, breaking the silence with a smile. 

He wrapped his arms around her, the familiar weight of his embrace a comforting anchor. "Hey, superstar," he murmured back, his voice a low rumble. "Think you could spare a few minutes for a couple of your number one fans?"

"I'll always make time for you all," she replied, her eyes searching his. She leaned up, connecting their lips in a kiss that was both tender and charged, a silent acknowledgment of the weeks they'd spent apart. FaceTime calls, while appreciated, couldn't replicate the warmth of his touch, the feeling of his lips on hers.

The moment was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. "Hey, Lana, you're up in a few minutes," Maria, her tour manager, announced. 

Solana nodded, a flicker of professional focus returning. She turned to her children, giving them each a quick kiss. "Mommy has to go now, but I'll be right back." Then, turning back to Josh, she added, "I've got a new song I'm singing tonight. You'll know it when you hear it."

He nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He gave her a quick kiss on her forehead. "We'll be waiting right here for you."

With a final, lingering glance at her family, Solana slipped out of the dressing room, just as the intro to her first song filled the backstage area. She took a deep breath, ready to step into the spotlight, the memory of their embrace fueling her performance.

Solana stood in the middle of the stage, slightly out of breath as she took in the energy from the crowd. 

A wide, genuine smile spread across her face. "How we feeling tonight?" she called out, her voice amplified, yet still warm and intimate. The response was immediate, a thunderous cheer that vibrated through the floorboards. She scanned the sea of faces, a kaleidoscope of lights and expressions, each one a testament to the shared experience of the night. Her gaze drifted towards the stage exit, and she spotted Josh, his silhouette outlined against the backstage shadows. A soft, knowing smile curved her lips, and she sent him a quick, private smile, a silent acknowledgment of the connection between them.

Turning back to the audience, she felt a surge of anticipation. "Tonight," she announced, her voice filled with a quiet excitement, "I have a new song I want y'all to hear. It's…it's a little different from what we've done so far." She paused, letting the words hang in the air, building the anticipation. "It's called 'Snooze.'"

A hush fell over the crowd, a collective intake of breath, as the band began to play the opening melody. The first few notes were soft, ethereal, a gentle shift in the atmosphere. The driving rhythms of the previous songs faded, replaced by a smooth, sensual groove. The stage lights dimmed, casting a warm, amber glow, and the vibe of the night shifted, slowed, became more intimate, more personal. It was a song of quiet comfort, of finding solace in another's embrace, and Solana was ready to share that feeling with every soul in the room.

I'll touch that fire for you I do that three, four times again, I testify for you I told that lie, I'd kill that bitch I do what all of them around you scared to do, I'm not Long as you juggin' out here for me, I got it

Solana really got into the song. Josh, standing backstage, was mesmerized. Not only by her performance, but by her ability to captivate the audience. A wave of pride washed over him as he watched his wife command the stage. Beside him, their two kids, Maya and Liam, bounced excitedly, their eyes wide with adoration.

The final notes of the song faded, the crowd’s roar washing over Solana like a tidal wave. She held the pose, the spotlight a warm embrace, before finally lowering the mic and flashing a dazzling smile. The band launched into the instrumental outro, a signal for her to exit stage left.

Backstage, the energy shifted from electric to a quiet hum of organized chaos. Stagehands moved with practiced efficiency, and her backup dancers were already gathering for the next number. But all Solana saw was Josh and their kids.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a soft smile playing on his lips. Mia and Liam were practically vibrating with excitement. He pushed off the wall, Liam grabbing his leg, and Mia held his hand, as they walked towards her, the noise of the backstage area fading into a dull background buzz.

"You were incredible," he said, his voice low, a rumble only she could hear. 

Mia and Liam echoed him, "Mommy you were so good!"

Solana felt a wave of relief and pure joy wash over her. "Thank you," she breathed, the adrenaline still thrumming in her veins. "Did you like it?"

He closed the remaining distance, his hand reaching out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from her face. "Like it? Solana, you poured your soul into that song. I loved it. And so did these two." He gestured toward their kids, who were both beaming.

She felt a blush creep up her neck, despite the heat of the stage lights. "It's about you, about us," she confessed, her voice barely a whisper.

Josh's eyes softened even further. "I know," he said, his gaze locked on hers. "And it's perfect."

"Mommy you were so pretty!" Mia exclaimed, breaking the intimate moment, but in a sweet way.

A stagehand called out, "Solana, two minutes!"

The urgency of the moment snapped them back to reality, but the intimacy lingered. She needed to change, and fast.

"Ok" she turned back towards Josh, gesturing towards the costume rack. "Once mommy is done we'll get that treat ok?" Mia and Liam nodded, giving their mother a final hug.

"Go," he said, stepping back slightly, but his hand lingered on her arm for a moment longer. "We'll be right here."

As she rushed to change, the lyrics of her song echoed in her mind, each word a testament to the feeling that pulsed between them. She knew, with a certainty that settled deep in her bones, that no matter the roar of the crowd, no matter the distance the tour put between them, their connection was the quiet, unwavering heartbeat beneath it all. And in that backstage moment, with Josh and their kids' warm gazes on her, she knew she was home.

If you would like to leave a request go comment on this link post. Check out my master list for other one shots and my other stories.

Tag list: if you want to be added to the tag list comment below!

@xbriexx , @mindairy , @tribalchief2112 , @theusotwinzcom , @yana3sworld

#jey uso#jey uso smut#jey uso x black fem oc#jey uso x black oc#jey uso x black reader#jeyuso#main event jey uso#wwe

[melonchews]

you’re art is so fantastic do you have any tutorials that really helped you improve :3??

Oh my gosh thank you so much!!

Here are some resources/tutorials that helped me over the years.

Patreon :

Loish has a patreon that’s full of amazing tutorials and tips that expand past even art, such as workflow and scheduling. Three of the biggest takeaways that helped with me so far:

• focus studies (choosing a specific area to focus on when doing warm ups)

• exaggeration + creativity when doing studies (so eliminating the pressure of accuracy and focusing on observation + feeling).

• workflow (the ways in which we complete illustrations and work it into our schedule. In due time I will implement this better lol).

——————

YouTube:

Ahmed aldoori :

• 100 heads

• drawing practice from reference

• photo study painting tutorial

Proko :

• draw the head from any angle

• getting better faster - painting with 80/20 rule

Marco bucci :

• 10 mins to better painting (playlist)

Ethan Becker :

• draw gesture with one shape (honestly a lot of his tutorials/tips are great! I think I learned a lot of various things that are scattered thought out his videos).

—————

Books: not tutorials, but good resources that helped.

• How to draw by Scott Robertson

• Figure drawing: design and study by Michael hampton

• a ton of “art of” books, study your favorites!

—————

My own tips/things I think about when I draw that have helped a lot:

Image 1) tracing over figures then drawing the contour or using that traced contour to check my work.

I also block in the shapes of the body and redraw that (sometimes treating it as its own character. I’ll play around with those proportions or stylize them, etc).

Image 2) negative space and envelope: Creating a shape around the figure and creating shapes in the negative space helped me a lot with mapping out poses. I eventually started using it as a short cut for my own work once I memorized common shape placements.

Image 3) finding the rhythms of a figure through connections and implied lines. For example, the curve of her hip flowed into the inside of her bra cup, or the inner leg flowed into her panty line. Etc. this really helped me simplify figures and draw in a way that was enjoyable.

Image 4) is an extension of 3, sometimes it helps to see the connection of the arms + shoulders or legs + hips. As well as opposing line curves (the red).

I hope that makes sense 😭 if not I can explain it better/more thoroughly if needed.

[ravencincaide]

A caring gesture 

Summary: “Okay, imagine it's Valentine day, and somehow dazai forget it was today (yes this smartass actually forget about it). But you did him the most incredible surprise when he gets back”

Pairing: reader x Dazai

Requested by: @avocate-assia-dazai Thank you so much for participating in Raven's special and sending me this request.

Warnings: Light cursing, Dazai fluff.

Hope you enjoy~

Dazai hated abroad missions; leaving early in the morning and coming home sometime in the wee hours of the night.  His body ached, bruised and beaten while his mind remained foggy, the lack of sleep and the jetlag that came with being awake for over forty eight hours. 

Ahh if only sleep deprivation could grant him the sweet release of death, then Dazai would never utter another complaint. Or maybe precious relief from this plagued life would appear just as his body finally made contact with the all-too welcoming couch of the ADA- the perfect place to slack the remainder of his shift before he could bounce away to your apartment. Yes, just another two steps- one step and Dazai flung his body onto the familiar couch, salvaged its sweet fragrance, soft cushions, fluffy blanket and red velvet material– wait why was it red? 

Instantly Dazai was up on his feet. 

His eyes narrowed as he stared down at the thing which replaced his all too familiar resting spot. Not only was this couch larger and covered in red velvet covers but it was filled with several fluffy blankets in white and pink. The precious space held several heart shaped pillows and on the armrest was a card yet-to-be-placed inside its matching envelope. Happy Valentines Day it said on the front of it, Valentines- Dazai’s eyes widened in realization and frustration as he ran a bandaged hand over his face. Of course, how could he have forgotten? You were talking about it just before he left for the mission, making plans for- for today. Hearing the door to the ADA open Dazai rubbed tiredly at his eyes; the sound of your click clack shoes made a part of him want to hide while another part of him dreaded seeing you. Tiredness washed over him like pulsating headache- hurting him almost as much as the difficult conversation he was expecting to have with you. 

In his experience women did not handle missed valentines well. Surely you’d be no exception, 

“ Oh you’re back early ‘samu” you sounded almost awkward as you came closer and closer to him. Instead of wrapping your arms around him however you stopped a few paces away and let out a low disappointed sigh “ Damn and here I had hoped dinner would arrive before you got back” 

Your words made Dazai’s head snap up and turn to face you, only to see you holding a stack of paperwork in your hands. His paperwork. Which you carefully placed on the couch side table before taking a seat. 

The action made Dazai frown, unsure whether he was seeing the situation correctly. “ Belladonna?” he asked cautiously as he watched you sorting the papers, a concentrated frown on your lips. 

“ hmmm? Sorry, you’ll have to wait a little for dinner. BUT I think it will be here in an hour or so,do you wanna get some rest in the meantime?” he watched, the way you looked up and him a small reassuring smile before going back to the task at hand. 

Cautiously, like a wild animal Dazai inched closer before taking a seat beside you. Careful fingers trailed from your shoulder down your arm. His expression guarded “ It’s Valentine's day today” 

“ I know” you reply picking your next words carefully “ I also know you’ve just returned from abroad so I thought our grand plans could wait until the weekend when–” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as Dazai’s arms snaked around you before pulling you down with him into a lying position. Long legs intertwined with yours, face buried in the crook of your neck. His hold around you was tight, somehow more clingy than usual.

“ Thank you, Bella” Dazai whispered in a rare sign of vulnerable affection, “ Now stay like this while I sleep, I’ll make it up to you later.. please?” and all you could do was nod, not daring to shift in case you disturbed your already half-asleep lover. 

This was not how you two had planned to spend your Valentines together, but judging by Dazai’s actions he didn’t mind the change of plans too much. And neither did you. 

Author note: Happy Valentines day! I hope this request fullfilled your expectations. Stay tuned for the next update in another four hours.

Hope you enjoyed 🩷

Like this work and want more? Check out Raven's Masterlist

©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

[aceofstars16]

Next chapter is up!

It...took a while cause...creating anything has been hard but...here you go! I want to finish this by the end of the year but we'll see if that happens...And I want to make a cover too but...*gestures to feeling really burnout and unmotivated*

And as always, the chapter is below the cut as well.

Complications arise in the aftermath of the dragon attack.

“That’s not good.” Dipper muttered to himself. He had been on watch for a few hours now, and he could hear the sound of foot traffic outside the store room they had found shelter in. Thankfully, no one had tried to come in yet, but that was the least of his worries right now. As time ticked on, his arm had started aching more and more, as if the salve he’d used on it had stopped working. That shouldn’t be possible, every time he’d used it before, it had healed the wound after a single use. But as he unrolled the bandage on his arm, he grimaced. He had stopped bleeding, but the teeth marks were still prevalent, and his skin felt warm to the touch. Something about the dragon’s teeth - or maybe what had been in its teeth – obviously was too strong for even the salve from dimension 326 to solve.

At least I’m used to this sort of thing. Dipper thought to himself as he grabbed a new bandage and loosely wrapped it around his arm, there was no point in using salve unless he knew it was going to work. Biting the bandage with his teeth, he managed to tighten it enough. It had been easier last night. Mabel had helped bandage him up after he had taken a look at her leg.

Mabel! Dipper quickly looked at the younger version of his sister. Her wound had been much worse than his, and as soon as he saw her, he froze. She was pale, and seemed to be shivering. A chill went through his own body at the sight, though part of that must’ve been the fever from his own infection.

Quickly glancing at Stan, Dipper was relieved to see that he was still asleep. He didn’t want his nephew to worry. Then he looked at Ford, who Mabel seemed to have curled up against in her sleep. For a moment, Dipper debated what to do. He obviously needed to get help, for himself and Mabel. He could just leave, after all, the room had been secure until now. But he knew how quickly a safe place could become compromised.

Standing up as quietly as he could, Dipper carefully made his way over to Ford and tapped him gently. For a moment, it seemed as if Ford was still asleep, but then his eyes opened slightly and he seemed to scan the room before looking at Dipper.

“Something wrong?” He asked in barely a whisper.

Dipper bit his lip and nodded to Mabel, who was still sound asleep despite Ford’s movements.

When Ford glanced down at Mabel, he froze, his body growing rigid.

“I’m going to look for something to help.” Dipper said quietly and pointed to his arm. “I have a pretty good idea of what she’s feeling right now.”

“Are you strong enough to be up and about?” Ford asked, frowning slightly.

Dipper nodded. “I’ve been through worse.”

Understanding flicked across Ford’s face and he nodded. “Hurry.”

“I will.” Dipper glanced at Stan then Mabel again. “I shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

Standing up, Dipper carefully made his way to the door and slid the barrel out of the way. Then he slipped out into the alley. 

-----

The ground grew distant as Stan let go of the shutdown switch. He was weightless. The whole room was vibrating as the machine turned on. Then something started pulling at him. He aimed a punch at it but it wasn’t anything tangible. It was the portal, pulling him in.

“Grantie Mabel! Ford! Help!” He screamed, trying to reach out for something, anything to stop the pull.

“Stan!”

Ford cried out as he tried to swim towards Stan in the air, but he wasn’t making any progress and the pull was growing stronger.

“Stanford!”

“Stanley! Hold o-”

Ford’s voice died away as Stan was pulled into the portal. For split second, he could still see the basement of the shack. Then it was gone, and he was alone.

“Ford!”

Jolting upright, Stan looked around frantically, only to be met with an unfamiliar room instead of the vast space that the portal had left him in. His heart was racing and a heaviness grew on his chest as reality slammed into him once again.

“Stanley? Are you okay?”

Stan glanced towards the voice and saw old Ford looking at him, brow furrowed. Mabel was curled up next to his almost-brother, asleep.

“I…” Stan took a breath and nodded, trying to calm himself. When Dipper had first found him, Stan had nightmares every night. They’d gotten better but Dipper had always…

“Where’s Dipper???” The realization that his grunkle wasn’t in the room brought Stan’s anxiety back full force.

“He left to find some medicine.” Ford said, frowning in concern at Stan. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Swallowing, Stan nodded, but he must not have been very convincing because Ford raised an eyebrow.

“Dipper should be back soon. You…you can sit here if you want.” Ford patted the ground next to him, on the opposite side of where Mabel was curled up.

For a moment, Stan just looked at Ford. In one sense, it was comforting to know that there still was a Ford he could talk to, but it wasn’t his Ford and...he still couldn’t shake the feeling that this Ford didn’t like him very much. But the memories of that night still clung to him, and being close to anyone sounded good right about now.

Getting up, he made his way over to Ford and sat down, not quite touching his brother. As he did so, he noticed how pale Mabel looked and a different worry sparked in his chest.

“Is Mabel okay?”

Frowning, Ford glanced at Mabel before giving Stan a very forced smile.

“She will be once Dipper gets back with the medicine.”

Stan frowned a little, not even realizing he was matching Ford’s expression. “Are you sure?”

Silence. Stan looked up and saw Ford staring at the door, and in his gut, Stan knew he was worried but trying not to show it. Which didn’t exactly make him feel any better.

Then Ford returned his attention back to Stan and he sighed. “Mabel is strong, I…she‘ll be okay.”

“Yeah…she fought off a pumpkin monster one time.” Stan said quietly.

Ford quirked an eyebrow and Stan was pretty sure that meant he wanted to hear more.

“We were exploring the woods…kind of when we weren’t supposed to. But you wanted to find a-oh I mean…my Ford wanted to follow some instructions he found in Dipper’s journal so…we snuck off.” As he spoke, a weight grew on Stan’s chest again and he looked at the ground, trying to fight back the overwhelming sadness. He wished he could go back to that day, when the scariest thing was a stupid monster and Mabel was fine and Ford was…

“You miss him.”

Stan quickly looked up but old Ford wasn’t looking at him, he was staring at the wall.

“Of course I do…” Stan said quietly, then he couldn’t stop himself from asking the same. “Do you miss your Stan?”

Ford straightened at that, a frown replacing the thoughtful look on his face.

“I…it’s complicated.”

“…oh…” Stan mumbled, the weight on his chest growing as he tried to keep tears at bay. Apparently something could come between him and Ford. And if it happened in one universe…would it happen in his? Or would he even see his Ford again?

Another question came to Stan’s mind, one he had been too scared to ask, and maybe he shouldn’t voice it. He was already feeling awful but…might as well get it over with, right?

“Do you hate him?”

----

“That sure is a nasty bite.”

Dipper grimaced as he saw exactly what the doctor saw. His arm definitely wasn’t looking too great, and he felt a lot warmer and weaker than he had when he’d left the sanctuary of the store room. Thankfully, he had managed to find a doctor pretty quickly. If he already felt this bad, he didn’t even want to think about how Mabel was doing. The faster the doctor figured out what to give him, the sooner he could get the same medicine to Mabel.

“What did you say did this?” One of the eyes of the doctor looked up, while the other three continued to examine his arm – she reminded him a bit of a snail in that way, but she was much bigger and didn’t have slime or a shell from what he could see. Maybe a crab was more in line with what she looked like. Whatever, she wasn’t the weirdest creature he’d seen in the multiverse and apparently she was the best doctor in town. At least according to the store owner that he’d talked to.

“I didn’t say.” Dipper responded to her question. Sure, he could mention the dragon creature, but something in his gut told him that it was something to keep discreet. He had overheard some aliens talking about “The Shadow Death” in a way that sounded almost…spiritual, as if it was some sort of evil.

The doctor hummed – though it sounded more like a gurgle – then turned to her pack of medicines and rummaged through them.

A moment later, she pulled out a syringe and before Dipper could react, she had stuck him with the needle. Out of instinct, he tried to pull back before she could inject him, but she moved a lot faster than he expected. Man, was he really losing his touch?

“Don’t squirm. This will get rid of the infection. As for the bite…” The doctor pulled out a spray bottle and rag and sprayed his arm.

Gritting his teeth, Dipper tried not to show how much the spray hurt, but apparently he wasn’t the best at that because the doctor just chuckled.

“It hurts but it helps.” She said before wiping his arm – removing the foam that had arisen from the spray. Before quickly wrapping his arm again.

“There. All done.”

She started ushering him up, apparently she didn’t want him lingering around. Maybe she just had a lot of patients, or maybe she suspected what bit him and didn’t want him around longer than necessary.

“Wait!” Dipper said, planting his feet to keep from being pushed out the door.

“What? The medicine works. You already feel better.”

She was right. Strangely enough, he felt like his fever was already gone, but he couldn’t leave without getting medicine for Mabel too.

“Someone else got bit. A girl, my-my sister. She needs the same medicine…maybe more. She wasn’t looking very good when I left…” Just that thought sent a wave of anxiety rushing through Dipper’s body, but he tried his best to shove it down. He just had to hurry, that was all.

The doctor frowned for a moment, then grunted. “How big?”

Dipper stared at her for a moment, then realized she was asking about Mabel. “About…” Dipper used his hand to measure about how tall Mabel was. “Still a kid.”

For a moment, the doctor just narrowed her eyes at his hand, then she hurried back to her supplies. She rummaged around then came back with her arms full of different bottles and rags.

“Inject this first.” She handed him a prepared syringe with a strange orange liquid in it – different than the one she had used on him.

“Then this.” She gave him another syringe, this one looked like the one she’d given him.

“Clean the wound with this,” she handed him a bottle, “And this,” a spray bottle. “Then have her drink this.”

The last bottle was placed in his arms and Dipper frowned. “This is a lot more than you gave me.”

“A kid needs more, and different. Now go, I have more work to do.”

This time, Dipper let himself be ushered outside, and he could only hope that the different medicines would help Mabel as much as they helped him. He was tempted to use only the things that had helped him but…the doctor didn’t seem to have any ill will and she had helped him. So, he pocketed the medicines she had given him and stepped out of the medical building.

Quickly making his way through the crowd of people that had gotten much larger than when he’d arrived, Dipper did his best to avoid bumping into anyone. However, as he shuffled through the crowd, something seemed…off. Glancing over his shoulder, he tried to pinpoint what it was. Everything looked fine. The aliens were acting normal, so what-?

Dipper stumbled over his feet and barely stopped himself from falling. Moving as fast as he could, he made his way to an alley and immediately hid behind the wall of the building.

As carefully as he could, he glanced around the corner to search the crowd again. And there his fears were confirmed.

Freglo, the bounty hunter. Dipper had some experience with him in the past. He was ruthless and Dipper had only escaped by jumping into a wormhole as it was closing. If he was here…

Ducking back behind the wall, Dipper closed his eyes and tried gathering his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if Freglo had seen him, he didn’t think so. But it was only a matter of time before he tracked Dipper down, and Stan and…Mabel.

Letting out a curse under his breath, Dipper started making his way down the alley. Mabel didn’t have time for him to figure out a plan. His best bet was to get her the medicine and then figure out what to do about the bounty hunter.

Making his way carefully back to the storage room, Dipper did his best to make his trail confusing while still being quick. Freglo used scent to track, so if he could mix it up some, maybe he could confuse the hunter. Or at least give him enough time to help Mabel before facing the beast.

-----

“Do you hate him?”

A weight grew in Ford’s chest as the question lingered in the air. Stan was looking at the ground, his arms wrapped around his legs. The first thought that came to Ford’s mind was, yes. After all, Stan was the reason he was here, the reason Mabel was here. But even as that justification grew in his mind, his heart seemed to balk at the word. Hate. Did he really hate Stan?

“Never mind. I…forget I said anything.”

Stan’s voice was quiet and fearful, as if he was scared of Ford’s response. For a moment, Ford was taken back to Glass Shard Beach, after Pa had said some degrading things about Stan – like he always did. And now here he was, years later…treating Stan the same way. And yes, Stan made a lot of mistakes, and Ford would be lying if he said he wasn’t angry with his brother but…

“No…I don’t hate him.”

“You don’t?” Stan straightened up quickly, looking at Ford in shock.

Trying to squash down the pain that came from the surprise on Stan’s face, Ford let out a sigh and shook his head. “No…I…I might be a little frustrated with him at the moment but…that’s not for you to worry about. I…I don’t know if I could ever truly hate him…”

“Or me?”

For a moment, Ford just stared at the younger version of Stan in shock. “Of course I don’t hate you. I…you remind me of times I…haven’t thought about in a long time…but they were good times.”

“Like what?”

The ghost of a smile grew on Ford’s mouth. “A lot of things, but mostly summers on the beach, fixing up the Stan O’ War.”

Stan straightened up. “You had the Stan O’ War too?”

A small chuckle escaped Ford’s mouth. “Of course, in fact…” Taking a breath, Ford carefully put a hand inside his inner coat pocket, wanting to make sure he didn’t damage his treasure more than it already had been. Grabbing it, he pulled it out and looked at it for a moment before showing it to Stan.

A faded picture of Stan and Ford as kids, standing in front of the Stan O’ War.

“Is that…how…how old is that?” Stan stared wide-eyed at the picture, reaching out to take hold of it.

For a split-second Ford felt a familiar pull at the thought of letting go of the photograph. He had kept it for forty years, through countless dimensions, and he’d never let anyone else handle it. But he let Stan take it. After all, it was Stan, and if he was going to share it with anyone, it would be Stan – young or old.

Stan held the photo carefully, his eyes locked on it. And only after a moment did Ford realize he could see tears prickling in his eyes. A heaviness grew on his chest and he carefully rested a hand on Stan’s back.

Looking up quickly, Stan quickly wiped at his eyes. “Will I ever see him again?”

The question brought an unexpected sadness upon Ford. Not just for this Stan, but…for himself as well. When he’d first been pushed into the portal, he never imagined seeing Stan again, and now it seemed more impossible. But Stan had managed to turn on the portal once, and knowing his brother, he wouldn’t stop until it was back on again.

“I don’t know, Stanley…but…” Ford sighed and glanced at the picture. “Why don’t you keep that? I think you need it more than me.” Maybe that wasn’t true. The thought of not having the picture scared Ford. As if he was admitting that those two kids would never be that way again, would never be as close as they once had, and might never actually see each other again. But if he could help Stan, even an alternate version, keep up the hope that he had lost, well…he’d survive.

“Really?” Stan asked quickly, his fingers gripping the picture tighter.

“Really.”

For a second, their eyes met and an understanding passed between them. The tension that had been lining Stan’s body ever since he had first run into Ford disappeared, and the frustration that Ford felt at his brother’s recklessness eased. They were okay now.

A door flying open broke the moment, and Ford quickly grabbed for his gun, only to relax as he saw Dipper, who quickly closed the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?” Ford asked, immediately sensing Dipper’s stress.

“It’s…” Dipper’s eyes flickered to Mabel and he shook his head. “First things first.”

Ford tried to calm his nerves as he watched Dipper treat Mabel with a variety of medicines. He knew Dipper wouldn’t hurt Mabel, just like he wouldn’t hurt Stan. But still, he didn’t know what Dipper had gotten to treat her and with his hurried entrance and treatment, Ford knew something was wrong.

A few times, Mabel muttered in her sleep as Dipper treated her, especially when he injected her with one of the medicines, but she didn’t wake up. However, the pale tone of her skin seemed to lessen as Dipper applied an ointment to her leg.

“There.” Dipper pulled back from pouring a medicine down Mabel’s throat. His arms were shaking and Ford felt a similar tension in his own body.

“What happened out there?”

Dipper frowned and glanced at the door. “Bounty hunter.” He said quietly, seeming to want to keep Stan from hearing, but the kid had sharp ears and he sat up straight.

Dread pooled in Ford’s stomach as he looked at Mabel. “Did he spot you?”

Dipper’s eyes flicked to the door again. “I’m not sure, but…if he did…”

“We need to move.” Even as Ford said it, he knew that was impossible. Mabel was still recovering and moving her could make her worse.

Looking at Dipper, Ford saw the same concern in his eyes. For a moment, no one moved, then Dipper broke eye contact and looked at Stan.

“Get your stuff, Stan.”

“What?” Stan looked at Mabel and Ford, then at Dipper.

“We need to leave.”

“Now???” Stan glanced at Mabel again.

“Yes.” Even as he spoke, Dipper hastily packed the few items that had been scattered around the room – which wasn’t much. It seemed he traveled as lightly as Ford did.

Stan followed suit, only to stop as he realized Ford wasn’t moving. “Why aren’t you packing?”

Ford exchanged a glance with Dipper. “I’m staying here with Mabel.”

“What!?” Stan blurted out. “What…you can’t…we’re supposed to stick together, right? We-we just found each other and-”

Ford reached out and place a hand on Stan’s shoulder. “Stanley, you have to go. I…I’m not your Ford. We can’t-”

“You lied!” Stan snapped, tears growing in his eyes as he pulled away from Ford.

“No, Stan. I didn’t-”

“L-let’s go, D-Dipper,” Stan stuttered, grabbing at Dipper’s hand and pulling him towards the door.

“Stanley, wait!”

But Stan had already pulled a stunned Dipper out the door. He was gone and Ford felt just as horrible as he had the first time Stan had stormed away all those years ago. Only this time, he couldn’t make it right. Because he’d never see the kid again. He would always think that Ford didn’t want him around, when that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Grunkle Ford?”

Mabel’s voice shook Ford out of pain that was threatening to overwhelm him.

“I’m here.”

“How long have I…?” Mabel’s voice trailed off and as she scanned the room frantically. “Where are Dipper and Stan?!?”