#How to Find Hiking Trails Near Me

[chososcutie]

AT THE SAME DAMN TIME .ᐟ

summary. when a vampire and a werewolf in rut on a full moon find you, a lost hiker stranded in the woods one stormy night, you find yourself in the midst of the eiffel tower of a century, pun intended.

featuring. werewolf!gojo x fem!reader x vampire!geto

word count. 3k

content. mdni fem!reader, werewolf!gojo, vampire!geto, dubcon, slight fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, petnames, degrading, bloodsucking, biting, oral (m!receiving), hickeys, doggy style, threesome, knotting, possessiveness, spitting, big dicks, grinding, cursing

author's note. this is all pure horny, disgusting smut i wrote in between breaks for my new fic coming out!

an owl hoots overhead, the sound low and foreboding, twigs cracking under your every step.

you glance at the black night sky, and the rumble of thunder moving in quickly, rain already hitting your warm skin in fat droplets that threaten a hard downpour soon to come.

shit.

how had it gotten to this point again?

oh right, your stupid idea of a hike through one of the most deserted places on earth had delved from a light-hearted afternoon walk into a nightmare when you found yourself going in circles, dazed and lost as a stormy night crept closer.

you had tried to call a number that would alert any nearby park rangers or the police, but your phone, battery dead and useless proved to be no help whatsoever.

and now, with a full moon beaming down on you and the rustling of bushes near you, you were out of ideas.

you come to a stop, your back hitting a tree trunk with a loud thump! as you slide down it in defeat.

the only chance of survival you had was to wait it out until morning when people came out to the trails again, and the storm passed, and just as you’re pondering where you could find shelter, a low growl far too close to you as well as heavy-sounding footsteps sound beside you.

“h-hello?” you call uncertainly, your head whipping left and right in the hopes of spotting whatever it was. “is anyone there?”

in response, something snarls, louder than any of the other noises you had been hearing tonight, its hot breath practically fanning across your neck in its closeness.

you turn your head in horror just in time to come face-to-face with a huge white werewolf, its frosty azure eyes big and unblinking, maw slack with lascivious drool pouring down, and sharp fangs glinting ominously.

crash!

thunder, loud and booming, shakes the ground and it’s then that you bolt, with no sense of direction only cold fear to guide you, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you run from the monster-like being, his footsteps hard on your trail.

he's snapping at your heels and growling ferociously as rain begins to pour down, absolutely drenching you with your shirt clinging to your figure like a second skin and your hair plastered across your forehead.

you gasp and pant, and just as you're starting to lose hope, bumbling blindly through the sheets of icy rain coming down hard and chilling you to the bone, you see it.

a cave, with not much to look at other than a slight overhang above it, all gray slated rock and darkness on the inside.

normally, you would be suspicious of such a cave, opting to investigate it a little further before heading in, but all rational parts of your brain disappear as you dart into the mouth of it, your clothes dripping wet and your breathing harsh.

it's only when you collapse onto the floor in a tired, soaked heap, breathing heavily and trying to calm yourself down, thinking that the entrance of the cave would be too small for the bulk of the monster outside to fit through, that you realize you're not alone.

because hanging upside down in the darkness that the cave provides, a blinking eyed bat stares back at you, slowly transforming right in front of your eyes into a tall, looming man, one with fangs jutting out below his lip and lazy, monolidded eyes that flick up and down your figure absently.

"who dares rouse me from my eternal slumber?" he crosses his arms across his chest with a scowl, all ashy pale skin and sunken undereyes.

"who are you?" you try to scramble backwards away from him, but he's quicker, dropping to his knees and pulling you into him by your legs.

he smirks at the small gasp you let out, and the involuntary shudder at the feel of his ice cold fingers dancing lightly along your thighs. "i believe i asked you a question first, love."

you stare back at him, breathless for a moment, your lips trembling as you manage to stutter out a response. "i-i got lost in the woods, and something was chasing me. i'm sorry, i didn't know this was your cave, i'll leave."

and just as you begin to stand up, he pulls you right back, his fangs creeping out. "ah ah, not so fast."

your breath catches, fear making your heart thump painfully in your chest as you try to force yourself to think.

what should you do?

his grip on you is tight and as he leans in closer, soft breath ghosting over the sensitive skin on your neck, you feel your skin prickle, managing to choke out a weak, "what are you doing?"

he smiles against your skin, allowing you to feel the sharpness of his fangs as they press against you, not quite biting yet but just there. "why, you're mine now, pet. my prey. my victim. thy fate is sealed."

he slowly opens his mouth, his hot, wet tongue coming to sweep across your pulse point and just as he's about to sink in, a loud howl is heard, followed by quick, skittering footsteps, or rather paw steps.

the same werewolf from before, with pure white fur and a lashing tail skids to a stop in front of you and the man, panting furiously, his cerulean blue eyes heated as he eyes you.

"she's mine, you bloodthirsty bastard! get off her!" he comes to separate you two, though not without the black-haired man's low curse as he rises once more to his full height, eyeing the wolf with a look of contempt.

"goddamnit gojo, you filthy mutt! what are you doing?"

gojo snarls in reply, coming to press against you from behind, staring at geto with a hint of a challenge in his frosty eyes. "i found her first. why do you think she came running in here?"

you can only swallow as your eyes rove between the two, wondering what was going to happen to you.

the fear had begun to wear off though, replaced with a low curling heat in the bottom of your tummy. they were both unfairly attractive men, and it was no surprise your eye was drawn to the chubbed bulge straining in geto's leathery pants or the way you felt gojo's swollen, hefty cock right up against your back.

"yeah? and why is it that you need her so desperately?"

and it's then that you feel the way gojo is pushing his hips forward, humping you ever so slightly as if he can't control himself, his breathing soft and whimpery as he suddenly bucks into you, desperate.

this doesn't go unnoticed by geto, whose eyes slowly follow the drag of his hot, weeping cock up and down your back, his raven eyes snapping back up to gojo with a snort. "you're in heat."

he says it like a statement, not a question, and at this, gojo's head falls onto your shoulder with a drawn-out groan, his breaths puffing feverishly out against you as any restraint he had snaps, furiously rutting against you and pushing your body slightly forward with every grind.

"yes! fuck, m'in heat!" he grits out. "now, can ya help me out here?"

geto, after flicking a strand of his long, black hair out of his face, pauses, his lips curving up just for a second as if something had crossed his mind.

"i think i have a way we can both get what we want." he practically purrs as he comes to a crouch in front of you, tilting your chin up to meet the burning intensity of his gaze. "but it's going to require you to be a good little pet for us, hm? can you do that?"

you find yourself nodding along eagerly, biting your lip as geto's cool hands curl around your thighs, spreading them open wide for gojo, who eagerly shifts, ripping your drenched panties aside with a rrrrip! of fabric.

you're facing gojo, and laying back on geto, with your head on his shoulder, his fingers beginning to work their way up your neck, pausing every now and then to feel your pulse points.

he chuckles darkly. "your pulse is jumping, sweet thing. ya excited to feel satoru's big cock stretching you?"

you nod weakly, slumped back on his chest, your breaths heaving as satoru begins to smear your gushing slick around your entrance with the reddened, veiny head of his cock, his tip bumping your puffy clit as he grinds in between your folds slightly.

your breath catches in a soft moan and suguru hums against your neck in approval, tongue laving hot, wet trails of saliva to drip down generously.

your plush thighs, sprawled apart and waiting, twitch slightly as experimentally, satoru pushes a couple thickened inches inside your hot, clamping walls.

the stretch is almost too much as you squeeze your eyes shut, gojo grunting above you as he tries to slowly fit himself all the way into your spasming cunt.

geto hushes you softly, cooing praises as one hand comes down to toy with your pulsing clit, rubbing tight little circles as his mouth busies itself on your sensitive neck, sucking purpleish hickeys across the expanse of it.

and when satoru finally bottoms out inside you with a whine, he's immediately rocking into you with fervor as his cock seems to only swell, his knot inflating and bumping your twitchy nub with every small movement— while you squirm and let out little cries of pleasure, suguru cradling you closer as his sucking turns more intense.

it's then that you feel the first graze of his teeth, featherlight but there, just barely a nibble across your flesh.

“hah.. fuck!” you reach up, tangling your fingers in geto’s long hair, pressing his head down harder against your neck as you moan breathily from the added sensation of his fangs scraping across you coupled with satoru’s almost frantic thrusts.

“slow down satoru,” geto murmurs hazily from your neck, almost as if whispering it to himself. “our pet is fragile.”

he lets out a desperate grunt in response, the hefty weight of his balls smacking against your ass as he angles himself to hit deep inside you to your cushy, sweet spot, the one that never fails to make you see stars.

your eyes roll back and it’s then that you feel suguru’s fangs bury themselves deep into your neck, the sharp prick fading to a pleasurable sting as he breathes in your scent with a satisfied groan rumbling deep into his chest.

satoru’s fat cock, with its bumpy veins and girth was edging you closer and closer to release with every sharp piston of his slim hips in and out of you, and now as it bumped your cervix repeatedly with sappy precum flooding out of the head, your mouth hung open with drool beginning to pour out with every shocking smack!

you weren't going to last much longer, and with a cry of, "satoru!" his thrusting turns more intense, his fluffy ears twitching frantically above his head as his dick throbs deep inside you.

and then, you feel it.

nothing more than a bump at first, his achingly swollen knot, just barely brushing your sappy folds.

but then more, as his fat, rotund knot begins to swivel n' push its way inside, shoving all of it past your tight, drooling heat with a drawn-out groan.

it pulsates weakly, halfway in and stretching your pussy lips obscenely around its sheer girth, and you tip your head back further onto suguru's shoulder with a keen, where he's still buried into your neck, simply just breathing you in.

"wan' it, 'toru!" you moan mindlessly, spreading your legs further as your whole body trembles and squirms. "want your knot!"

satoru's whole body jerks in response, his hips stuttering and more sloshes of hot, oozing precum gushing out of his furiously red blushing cock, zigzagging veins massaging your plush walls with every calculated stroke of his.

your skin was sizzling with heat, and your stomach had begun to curl into tight little knots, tears pricking at your lash line from how close you were to tipping over the edge and you mewl, clawing at gojo's toned hips in an effort to draw him impossibly closer.

your release is so close you can practically taste it, your every muscle tensed and coiled while you find yourself bucking back into gojo's sloppy thrusts, drool beginning to pour down your chin— and it's at that exact moment that geto rears his head back and bites hard, fangs sucking filthily upon your neck as if it were a lifeline, that you find yourself cumming.

your jaw falls slack in a silent cry, your orgasm exploding through you so intensely you can't even react other than the jolting of your hips up as you clench and milk satoru's thick cock whilst spraying your gushing release all along his abdominals.

you were squirting— so much of it that it was just flooding out of you, soaking satoru entirely in your honeyed essence.

his white tufted happy trail was dragging along your pussy back n' forth as he huffs feverishly before the raw, lewd plop! of his hot n' heavy knot being bullied into you seems to resound, the filthy wet squelches your cunt was making in response making you wriggle helplessly.

and then he's throwing his head back and cumming, the sight so utterly sinful as creamy wads of ivory sap are spurting deep inside your walls, ribbons n' ribbons of it until it's too much, and even then he can't stop, halfheartedly rutting into you as endless amounts steadily pulse into you.

geto groans, the sound low and reverberating through you as he continues taking pull after pull of your thick, warm blood, the feeling almost orgasmic as he draws it out of you slow, your eyes rolling back with the pleasurable ache.

but soon enough, you find yourself feeling lightheaded and with a weak protest from geto, manage to pull him off, his eyes half-cracked open and hazy with pleasure, crimson droplets dribbling down the corners of his lips which he quickly licks off.

gojo's still cumming, pink sheened lips dropped open and cerulean eyes clouded with lust, and you watch geto's head laze in a downward angle to bring your attention to the massive, rock hard bulge in his pants, twitching for any ounce of attention you were willing to give.

"you gonna help me out too, doll?" he drawls, amusement in his gaze as your breath catches at the sheer size of him when he slooowly drags his pants down his hips to let his cock slap against his stomach, curved and pierced at the frenulum.

he was.. pierced?

he stands up, pants half unzipped and turns your body toward him, gojo's large palms sliding over your hips to flip you onto your hands and knees, knot still firmly planted in place as he starts slowly dragging his cock in little rocking thrusts.

geto tilts your chin upward, smirking and tucks a bit of your hair behind your ears. his hand gently strokes your cheek, and as you gaze up at him with a whimper, growls out a, "open your mouth for me, pet."

you do obediently, and watch as he leans over you, letting a thick, silvery wad of spit sultrily drip down onto your tongue, your mouth instantly closing to swallow.

as you do, he shifts, one big hand wrapping around the thickened base of himself to drag his weepy cock along your lips, salty precum already streaking down your chin.

you slightly part your lips, only for geto to push just the fat, bulbous tip of his cock in between, groaning as your warm, wet mouth engulfs him.

gojo pants from behind, his big hands coming to rest on the curve of your waist, his breathing ragged as he furiously humps into you as much as he can with his swollen knot stretching your pussy lips wide, his seed dribbling out occasionally.

geto groans, a hand coming to tangle itself in your hair and pulling you down hard until his plump, globed tip is bruising the back of your throat, making you choke around him with a small moan, drool trickling down the corners of your lips.

he taps your cheek gently, as if to check on you, and you nod slightly, your eyes glassy with tears from all the stimulation as gojo's veined girth swats around your insides, absolutely pouring helpings of precum into you to add on to his mess from earlier.

and what happens next is something you can't prepare yourself for— satoru's big hand raises itself above the curve of your ass and then comes down in a harsh smack!

geto chuckles, pulling you further down on his cock with a tug on your hair until tears are streaming down your face and you're gagging on the length of him.

smack!

again, and again he spanks your plump, jiggling ass, mouth watering as he watches you, feeling the way your walls clench and spasm around him in preparation.

then suguru starts up a brutal pace, fucking into your mouth with abandon, his head thrown back and baring his adam's apple as it bobs in a swallow, muttering curses as you bob your head slightly to take more, your tongue working in quick flicks below his sensitive head and running along the cool metal of his piercing.

meanwhile, satoru's hips are snapping ruthlessly behind you, causing you to ping-pong between them as they both use you to chase their pleasure, your back arching as you shudder, pussy clenching down hard as your stomach tenses up.

you were close to cumming for the second time tonight, and satoru seemed to take notice, because this time when he raises his hand again, it's positioned directly over your puffy, throbbing clit, coming down in a wet thwack! that has you seeing stars and cumming so hard you think you black out for a second.

your thighs tremble and drench themselves in your own syrupy slick while you squirm desperately, your muffled moans and cries sending vibrations straight to suguru's dick.

and then you feel it. the musky tang of his cum filling up your mouth while he makes a noise caught between a moan and a whine, spurting so messily until it dribbles down your chin, his cock twitching with every webbed, ivory wad of seed he spills out.

and then with one last drag of his hot, bulging shaft, gojo also cums, loudly and messily with pools n' pools of white spilling down your thighs in rivulets and a moan that echoes throughout the empty cave, bouncing off the walls until it's all you can hear, your body trembling and spent.

your eyes shutter closed briefly, and distantly, you feel hands moving you, almost reverently, like you were their new shiny toy and they didn't want to break you— yet.

a hot, eager tongue laps at your thighs, cleaning up the mess streaking down between them, tender gentle strokes that focus on precision rather than overstimulating you further.

and when you're all cleaned up, you find yourself laid out flat, propped up against gojo whose ears twitch, his tail curling around your waist as he nuzzles into you, and geto who lies between your legs, his head on your thigh almost lazily.

you sigh, your eyes beginning to droop, tired, but before you can succumb to slumber, you hear geto's voice speaking to you in a murmur.

"you know you're going to be staying with us now, right?"

"why's that?" you say sleepily.

his mouth curves into a sadistic little smirk. "because you're our beloved little pet now. ours, and only ours."

©CHOSOSCUTIE. please do not plagiarize or repost my works!

a/n: this is kinda bad and a little rushed but i had to get something out

[lunajay33]

Waiting🖤 Part.2

Summary: After decades of being alone without a love of his own he finally finds her in a gloomy town of forks, his brother Edward isn’t the only lucky one

Pairing: Emmett Cullen x f! Swan reader

Warning: angsty, fluffy sunshine Emmett

Part.1

•Masterlist•

Friday came and I was a nervous wreck, I didn’t care to tell Bella or dad about this seeing as Bella has already distanced herself from me and I didn’t wanna get dads hopes up, sitting in math class, the last class of the day I kept glancing at the clock ticking closer and closer to the final bell, trying to distract myself I delved back into the worksheet infront of me, soon enough the bell rang and my heart jumped

Anxiously I threw everything into my bag and left the school straight to the parking lot, where Emmett was leaned against his silver jeep, when his eyes landed on me that bright smile stretch across his face making his amber eyes shine

“Hey gorgeous you ready for the best night of your life?” I could feel the heat rush to my face only making his smirk widen

“Not like that y/n, not yet anyways, come on hop in” he said as he held the door open for me, quickly getting in the drivers seat next to me

“Sooo um what’re we doing?”

“Thought we could go hiking, maybe get out of the cloud bank into some sunlight”

“I love hiking! Sounds like fun” finally relaxing knowing now it’s something I’m use to doing

He drove for a while out of forks to a near by hiking trail not commonly used by the public, we got out and started our journey

“So tell me a bit about yourself Angel” he said breaking the silence

“Well there’s not much to know, I’ve lived here my whole life, my sister and mom left when I was young so it’s just been me and my dad, I became homeschooled until now and I usually just read and do homework”

“Not a big social butterfly I assume?”

“Not really, what about you? Tell me everything!”

“Well I have 4 adopted siblings, Jasper, Alice, Rosalie and Edward, you’ll love Alice she’s the sweetest, I like getting out into the forest, love music and working out”

“Yeah I can tell” I smiled glancing at his bulging muscles under his long sleeve shirt

“Woah she’s got some fire in her after all” he laughed nudging my arm

“What can I say you bring it out of me” his hand grazed against mine until he went for it and intertwined his fingers through mine

“Why so nervous pretty girl? Do I fluster you?”

“Maybe, I’ve never really done stuff like this but it’s nice” I saw his features soften as he looked down at me and gently squeezed my hand

“Really? A beautiful thing like yourself, I’m surprised you don’t have boys on their knees begging for your attention”

“I think you have me mixed up with my sister” I laughed nervously

“And who might that be because I don’t even need to see her to know your beauty is beyond anything of this world”

“Emmett stop you’re just trying to make me blush, and my sister is Bella, Bella swan she’s new to the school” he stopped dead in his tracks with a shocked expression

“Bella is your sister, like your actual sister?”

“So you already know her, not a surprise”

“No it’s not that, my brother Edward has been after her since she came at the start of the week, kind of funny how two brothers can like two sisters, but I must say I got the more beautiful”

“You’re too sweet Em, I can’t believe she hasn’t said anything”

“Edward is a very awkward secretive guy I’m sure Bella is the same way maybe that’s why she hasn’t said anything”

“Can’t say you’re wrong”

He looked me up and down trying to judge something, curious

“Do you trust me?”

“I only just meet you but yeah, I do”

In an instant he flung me over his back so I was clung to him like a monkey

“Hold on tight sunshine” everything flew by in a blur, there was no shape to anything with the speed he was going, but however he was doing this it didn’t scare me or make me wonder what the hell was happening, I actually felt at peace

Soon enough he stopped as we cleared the cloud bank and the sun was beaming, he placed me gently back down on my feet and turned around, his skin was like a million tiny crystals, I was in awe by how much more beautiful he became

“Are you scared?” He asked as his face scrunch with worry

I raised my hand and traced down his cheek feeling his hard cold skin

“No quite the opposite, you’re beautiful Emmett”

“Don’t you wanna know what I am?” He asked placing his hands on my hips

“Whatever you are I’d never judge, I feel you’d never hurt me so I don’t care what you are”

“How did I get so lucky” he stated as he lifted me like I weighed a feather, wrapping my legs around his waist

“What do you mean?”

“Us vampires have mates and the moment you bumped into me in the hallways I knew you were mine, the one I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with”

“But why me, you could have anybody”

“You’re everything I’ll ever need, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you Angel, and I’ll spend the rest of eternity showing you how amazing you are”

My heart swelled with the most love I’ve ever felt and I’m lucky enough to finally find the one who will brighten my life

Taglist: @whit0912 @serenadingtigers @twilightlover2007

[marstons-angel]

lucky bastard

john marston x fem!reader

✧ tags : afab + fem!reader, gendered language, established relationship, outdoor sex, lots of dirty talk, john being an idiot, mentions of sex work, all of this is very consensual reader is just shy. 18+

✧ wc : 1k

✧ a/n : this guy makes me insane against my will. everyday of my life.

✧ synopsis : john is full of bad ideas.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

"John Marston," Your voice is stern, harsh as you whisper. Both hands on his shoulders pushing yourself from the grasp he keeps you in so tightly. "Get the hell—"

"Don't be that way angel." His words are sweet but his voice is filled to the brim with snark. Edge to edge. "What? You too good for fuckin' in the woods now? Too much of a lady?"

You smack his shoulder. His response is to keep you exactly where you are - which is in his lap on an open trail, later at night. No blankets, bottoms discarded in a heap besides you since John insisted on getting you skin to skin.

You're not fucking in the woods, you're fucking just outside of them - a place to camp near the trees in the Grizzlies East - near Moonstone Pond.

You're right besides the trail, right where any down and out bastard could trot their horse through and get a clear shot of what's going on. There's better places to do this. Deeper in the trees where there's no chance of of somebody finding you both, for one.

But John seems excited at the idea of getting caught. And when John gets in one these moods, there's no reasoning with him. He gets caught up in his wants as always, foolhardy and crass. Though you mind it less than you're honest about.

His hands find your hips, blunt nails grasping at you for life as he moves you. Doesn't move himself, but rather - moves you, slides you up and down on the hard length of his cock with a smile just short of smug and just past mesmerized.

In the dead of night, it's easy to hear how he makes you feel. What he does to you. The wet lazy sound of thrusts of his dick in you drown all noise of the lonesome evening. You wrap yourself around him in a fit of desperation, hitting your fists weakly on his back. He laughs in the way he always does, presses a kiss to the parts of you he can reach while you throw a fit.

"You're such a rotten, no good, irritating bastard, Marston."

"And you just can't stay away from me, can you sweetheart?" He holds you in place while you bottom out and you can feel him swell when you say it. You almost want to sneer. "It ain't like you to play coy."

"I'm not playing anything. Someone's gonna come out here and see and—"

"And what? Some poor bastards gonna ride through here and see you split open on me and wish he was me? You feel sorry for him? I sure don't."

Your voice catches at the sudden change. The change in pace, the change in tone, the change in demeanor. His hands grip you tighter and he flips you until you're laying in the grass on your back. His dick kisses your cervix at the new angle, legs wrapped around his waist and blinking in surprise from where he looks down on you. More scar than man, all sharp lines and dark hair barely failing away from his face.

He leans down that time. You think to kiss you but instead he hikes you up until your spine arches so slightly and he thrusts that way. Fucks his cock so deep into you, it feels like all the airs been punched out of your lungs. It's more invasive than it's been all night, bigger and thicker - makes it feel like your cunt is being pulled open. The tip dragging on your insides, sticky and sensitive on each motion.

You gasp his name out, hands find his hair - tugging just to have something to hold. "John,"

"In fact, if anything - we're doing 'em a favor. Only time they see a woman at all is when they're paying for her. They could only be so lucky seeing a woman as beautiful as you feeling so good for me for free."

You make a whimpering noise and swallow it down. John laughs, scruff against your shoulder. His teeth tug at your ear lobe as he positions you - hand sliding between your bodies as his thumb finds your clit.

"I'd put a bullet clean between their eyes before they touch you, you know that? But I'm a decent man so," He laughs breathless. "A look is all they're gonna get. Charity, ain't it? In a way.''

You make a face at him, disarmed - weak, purely and plainly in a way that makes his laugh go from smug to charmed, affectionate. He kisses you on the lips that time. Corner of your mouth, your chin and cheek and shoulder. His arm cradling you easy in his grasp as you keep your legs up for him to fuck you.

Fire runs through your nerves as all the sensations settle in at once. The pleasure of having your clit rubbed even clumsily is enough to make you whine out in pleasure, especially in pace with being fucked so hard again and again. Something turns in your belly, honeyed - hot, like pouring sugar over a flame. You feel the warm iron of your own want be shaped by John with every consequential knock and thrust.

You breathe out as his attitude slows to merciful. He gets like this when you get close - gets all softhearted and gentle even as he's fucking you senseless.

You sniffle. "You're such a bastard, Marston."

"Don't I know it," He hums, easy and keeps going. "Getting close for me, angel? Gonna make me a nice little mess to clean up?"

"Shut up,"

He chuckles. "C'mon. You gonna let go for me?"

You swear. "Y-yeah."

"Good girl," He praises. You can't even pretend not to keen when he says it. "Go on then. Show me. Let me see,"

With another unceremonious thrust, you unravel in John's arms like the threaded frayed ends of a piece of twine. Pulled apart, you cum on his cock hard - a tingling sensation spreading through your whole body as your back curls up. Your legs force John to stay bottomed out as you shudder. The overwhelming pleasure doesn't seem to end.

You only breathe after a few minutes. John coaxes some comfort from you with a kiss to your collarbone.

"Still mad at me?"

You roll your eyes and smack his head lightly. "Shut up, Marston."

"Shut up ain't much of an answer." He says, pretending to sigh. "Guess I'll have to make you go one more to earn that forgiveness huh?"

Your lips quirk. Idiot. "Guess we'll just have to see."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

Camping

Wandanat x hybrid!puppy!reader

Summary: Wanda and Natasha have been looking for a pet for some time, but they've had no luck until they meet you, will you be a good fit for their lives?

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Hybrid AU (human with animal traits), light animal behavior themes, use of pet names/titles (e.g. “Daddy”), mild fear and emotional distress, implied past trauma (Bumble’s protective instincts), wolf encounter, light scolding/disciplinary tone, comfort/reassurance, human-animal interaction depicted with hybrid characters.

Authors Notes: This was a request from my little woof~ You can find the request here!

“Okay Tasha, you have everything for the two of you, right?” Wanda’s voice floated through the house, a mix of worry and affection. She’d been double-checking the list for the third time now, fluttering around like a nervous mother hen. You had been trailing the two of them all morning—your nails clicking against the hardwood, ears perked, head tilting at words like tent, river, and trail snacks. You weren’t entirely sure what “camping” meant, but the way your owners moved with purpose had your tail wagging all the same. Something exciting was happening. And you were going.

Natasha—Daddy—stood near the front door with a hiking pack slung over one shoulder, calm as ever. Her sunglasses were already perched on her head, and a cooler waited by her boots. She gave a short nod as Wanda approached her with a folded flannel in hand.

“I’ve got everything. Tent, food, water, bug spray, the meds kit, her blanket, even that weird little toy she sleeps with,” Natasha said, nodding toward you with the smallest of smirks.

Wanda didn’t look convinced. She turned sharply and you almost bumped into her knees trying to stop fast enough. Dropping your rear to the floor, you blinked up at her obediently, tail sweeping the floor with fast, hopeful thumps.

“Okay, Bumble,” she said, squatting down and holding your face between her hands. Her warm thumb stroked over your cheek, and you leaned into it. “You listen to Natasha, okay?”

“Yes! Listen to Daddy!” you said quickly, a little breathless with excitement. Your voice was light and eager, like it didn’t know how to contain itself. You didn’t even realize you were vibrating in place, tail lashing side to side with joy.

Wanda giggled and kissed your forehead. “Good girl.”

Behind her, Natasha chuckled. “We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. I’ll keep her safe.”

“I know, I just…” Wanda stood, brushing invisible lint from Natasha’s jacket. “It’s her first time really out like this, away from both of us. And there’s bears out there.”

“I have a knife,” Natasha deadpanned.

“And a hybrid who’s afraid of the vacuum,” Wanda countered.

Natasha gave her a crooked grin, then leaned in to kiss her. “We’ll be fine. Go enjoy the quiet house while you have it.”

You watched the kiss curiously, ears twitching. Then Natasha patted her thigh and you jumped up on all fours ready, tail wagging again. “Let’s go, pup.”

You barked once and followed her out the door, casting one last look over your shoulder at Wanda, who smiled softly, waving from the porch with both hands.

You didn’t know what camping was yet—but with Daddy by your side, you were sure it was going to be your favorite thing.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩🍃🏕🪵

You couldn’t believe your luck.

From the moment Natasha opened the passenger side door and patted the seat, your brain short-circuited with pure joy. You paused on the sidewalk, blinking up at her in disbelief, as if this were some sort of test.

“The front seat’s for you this time, pup,” she said, tossing her bag in the back and sliding into the driver’s side.

You scrambled up immediately, clumsily bracing your hands on the edge of the seat and hauling yourself up. Your tail thumped wildly against the upholstery, ears perked so high they practically touched the roof. You turned in a quick circle—once, twice—before sitting tall, knees tucked to your chest, tail wagging over the console.

You glanced at Natasha as she buckled in. She shot you a quick side-smile.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it. You’re only up here ‘cause it’s just us,” she said, pulling her sunglasses down over her eyes.

You didn’t say anything. You were too busy glowing. Front seat. The front seat. You had never been allowed here before. This was sacred territory. Wanda had always clicked her tongue and steered you toward the back, mumbling something about dog hair and seat safety. But now? Now you were queen of the world.

Your nails tapped lightly against the center console as you shifted, leaning closer to the window. When the car started moving, you gasped. The rush of air! The view! You pressed your nose to the glass, watching the world zip past in a blur of green trees and open sky.

Natasha chuckled lowly, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching over briefly to scratch behind your ears. “Not bad, huh?”

You turned toward her, eyes wide and sparkling, and gave a soft, breathy sound of agreement before returning to the window. Your tail never stopped moving, swaying with the gentle rhythm of the road.

And when Natasha reached down to turn up the music—some steady, low-beat rock that thrummed in your chest—you leaned over just enough to rest your head on her thigh, letting out a happy sigh.

You didn’t know where you were going, but for once, it didn’t matter. You were in the front seat. With Daddy. And life was so good.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩🍃🏕🪵

The car door creaked open, and before Natasha could even tell you to wait, you were already wriggling out with a huff of excitement, hitting the ground with your hands first, then your feet. Grass and pine needles crunched beneath you as you stared wide-eyed at the scene ahead—towering trees, a canopy of green, sunlight breaking through in dappled patches. It was quiet. Still. The air smelled like dirt and leaves and woodsmoke from a nearby site.

You turned to Natasha, your mouth parting in a question, but she was already circling to the back of the car, popping the trunk.

“C’mere, Bumble,” she called, her voice steady but warm. “We’ve got work to do.”

You padded closer on all fours, tail swaying, head cocked. She pulled out a folded bundle of fabric first—a tent—and a couple of long metal poles. You blinked at it, uncertain.

“This is our shelter,” Natasha said, holding up the bundle. “Keeps us dry if it rains. Keeps bugs out. Watch, I'll show you.”

You sat back on your heels, resting your hands on your thighs, eyes fixed on her as she laid everything out with the kind of precision you always admired in her. She explained each piece—how the poles connected with little snaps, how the tent had to be staked into the ground just so. She gave you tasks: hold this corner, press down here, bring me that hammer.

And you did. Happily. Eagerly. Anything to please her. Your tail wagged constantly, brushing over the soft dirt as you mimicked her movements.

“See? Not so hard,” Natasha said as the tent finally stood tall, taut and secure. She ruffled your hair. “You’re good at this.”

You beamed up at her, panting just slightly from exertion and the heat, and leaned into her hand.

Next came the fire pit. Natasha cleared a space, circled it with stones, and showed you how to gather the right kind of wood—dry twigs, not too thick, plus some leaves for kindling. You watched, nose twitching at the smoky smell of the old charred wood in the pit, while she explained how to build a fire safely.

“You don’t touch this part, okay?” she said, pointing at the lighter before tucking it into her jacket pocket. “This is mine. You just help me feed it.”

You nodded seriously.

She lit the fire, and the sudden bloom of warmth and light made your ears perk. But what really caught your attention were the tiny flickers of ash that lifted into the air, twisting and dancing like tiny gray bugs. Your eyes tracked them, body tense—prey.

You lunged, snapping at one as it floated near, catching nothing but air and letting out a startled huff. Natasha laughed, reaching out to hold your shoulder steady.

“Bumble, no—those are ashes, not snacks.”

You looked up, confused, then tried again when another one drifted low. This time, she caught your chin gently and made you look at her.

“Hey,” she said with a small smirk. “No biting the fire.”

You whined softly, ears pinning back, but the warmth in her eyes kept your tail wagging.

By the time the campsite was set, the sun had shifted to mid-afternoon. A breeze whispered through the trees, rustling the tent, and you lay on your side by the fire ring, panting, watching as Natasha finally plopped down on a log bench with her thermos.

“You did good today, Bumble,” she said, glancing over at you with the faintest smile.

Your tail thumped against the dirt.

You might not have understood everything this “camping” was about yet—but if it meant spending the whole day close to Daddy, learning from her, helping her, earning her quiet praise?

You could stay out here forever.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩🍃🏕🪵

The woods had gone quiet in the late afternoon—soft and golden, the fire crackling low beside Natasha as she scribbled something into her little notebook, lips pursed in focus. You lay near her feet, half-dozing, your head resting on your arms, tail occasionally flicking across the pine needles.

It was peaceful.

Until you heard something.

Your ears twitched—just a subtle sound at first, but different. Not the breeze, not the birds. A high, soft whine. Barely there, like the rustle of something trying not to be heard.

Your head lifted.

Natasha didn’t react, still hunched over her notebook, so you didn’t bark or whine. You simply stood and tilted your ears, angling them until you caught it again. Closer now.

Sniff.

It was faint, earthy, unfamiliar. A mix of wet moss and something wild.

You padded away on all fours, slow and cautious, slipping just off the trail until the tall grass brushed your shoulders and the scent grew stronger. You ducked beneath a branch, pushed your nose into a thicket—

And suddenly—

Boop.

Your snoot bumped another one.

You froze. So did it.

A tiny little creature blinked up at you, its nose trembling, ears low. Gray-brown, just like yours but shaggier, rougher. A pup. Small. Frightened. Shaking.

It let out a soft, pitiful whine.

You leaned in and sniffed again. It smelled wrong. Wild. Unclean in a way that made you tense—but also small. Helpless. Alone. That protective instinct that had always burned beneath your ribs roared up like fire.

So, before you could think about it too hard, you reached forward and gently grabbed it with your mouth by the scruff, kind of like how you’d seen Wanda carry toys to the laundry. Its body went limp. It didn’t fight.

You turned and padded back to camp, tail held high in quiet pride.

When you emerged from the brush and dropped the squirming pup carefully at Natasha’s boots, tail wagging slowly, head tilted just a bit to say Look what I found!—

Her reaction was... not what you expected.

“BUMBLE!”

You flinched as she shot up from the log, eyes wide in pure horror.

“No! Stop! BAD GIRL!”

You instantly shrank back, curling your body protectively around the pup, letting out a soft whimper as your ears flattened.

But you didn’t leave it.

You couldn’t.

The little thing pressed into your belly, whining quietly, and you responded by licking the side of its face with a soft whuff, tail low but still wagging. You didn’t understand what was wrong—but it was scared, and so were you, and that meant you needed each other.

Natasha ran a hand through her hair, pacing once before crouching down near you, keeping her voice low but panicked. “Bumble, baby, that’s not a dog. That’s a wolf. A wild animal. You can’t just—oh my god. We have to find its pack, or—shit, its mother could be close.”

You looked up at her, eyes wide and confused, your tongue slipping out as you gave the pup another kiss. It squeaked, pressing closer to your warmth.

“���Oh no,” Natasha muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “She’s already attached.”

You didn’t understand all the words. But the tone? That you understood.

So you whined, low in your throat, curling your body around the pup like a nest. You weren’t letting it go. Not yet.

Not until you were sure it was okay.

The little pup stayed curled in your arms, warm and trembling. You nosed at its scruff gently, feeling the soft puffs of breath against your skin. It had stopped whining now—maybe because it felt safe. Because you were warm. Because you wouldn’t let anything near it.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩🍃🏕🪵

Natasha had stopped pacing.

She was sitting now, watching, jaw tight, arms on her knees. Every few seconds her eyes flicked to the trees, sharp and alert, scanning for movement. For danger.

Then it came.

A distant, bone-deep howl.

Low. Long. Echoing over the hills like a call from the earth itself. You lifted your head sharply, ears flicking to attention. The pup jolted too—but not in fear.

In recognition.

It squirmed in your hold. Not to get away—just to get higher, closer to the noise. And then it did something strange. It howled back. A high, uneven wail. Lonely, but loud.

You felt something stir deep in your chest.

You’d never done it before. Not really. But it felt natural. Right.

You raised your head, opened your mouth—

And you howled.

Not quite like the pup. Not quite like the wolf that had called.

But something in between. Raw and wild and full of ache.

“Bumble—” Natasha’s voice was strained now. “No. No no no—baby, don’t—”

She stood, fast, reaching for you, but you were already on your feet. The pup squeaked and scrambled up onto your back, and you dropped into a run before she could catch you.

“Bumble!” she yelled.

But the trees swallowed her voice.

Your paws—no, your feet—pounded the ground, strong and certain, following a scent you didn’t even know you could track. The pup clung to you, small claws gripping your shirt. Another howl—closer now. More desperate.

You howled back again, heart beating wildly.

You didn’t know if you were scared or sure. You didn’t know what was waiting at the end of the trail. But the pup needed you. Something had pulled it to you—had pulled you to it.

And you weren’t going to let it be alone again.

“Bumble!”

You heard Natasha behind you—branches snapping, her boots pounding the dirt, her voice sharp with fear.

But you couldn’t stop.

The wolf pup whimpered and dug its little claws into your shirt tighter. It could feel it too—her. She was close. So close you could smell the scent of wild earth and warm fur in the air.

You pushed through one last thicket, your hair catching on twigs, your breath coming hard—

And then you stopped.

There, standing in a clearing bathed in pale moonlight, was her.

The wolf.

Massive, sleek, and silver-gray. Her fur shimmered with the same strange lilac hue you’d seen in the pup’s eyes. Her chest rose and fell slowly, but her eyes were locked on you—piercing, wary, and fierce.

You froze, slowly lowering yourself to all fours, letting the pup slip from your back and tumble gently onto the soft ground. The little thing scrambled up, took one shaky step, then another, and whimpered once.

That sound shattered the wolf’s stillness.

Her body shifted, her ears twitched, and then—

She bounded forward in two graceful leaps.

You barked—a short, sharp warning.

She stopped.

You could feel Natasha finally catch up behind you. She skidded to a halt, breathless, voice caught in her throat. “Bumble… don’t move,” she whispered.

But you weren’t scared.

You lowered your head, tail still, and gave a small yip. Not aggressive—just… asking.

The wolf huffed, muscles tense, but her gaze darted to the pup now wagging its tail and crying soft happy yips of its own. You yipped again. One low, one high.

Safe.

Found.

Yours.

The wolf blinked once.

Then her pup barked—tiny, high-pitched, and full of joy.

And the mother relaxed.

She stepped forward, brushing her snout gently over her pup, licking its ears and neck and nudging it close to her side. Her tail lifted and curled around it, protective, maternal, strong.

You stayed still, watching, every hair on your arms and neck standing straight.

And then she looked at you again.

Not with fear.

Not with threat.

But with something… older. Something like recognition.

She studied you—your ears, your tail, the silent language that passed between hybrid and beast. And for a long moment, it was just the two of you, breathing the same air under the same sky.

Then, without a sound, she turned.

The pup followed, still wobbly on its legs but glowing with purpose. Together they stalked back into the trees, fading into the night like ghosts.

“Daddy, that was so scary but so fun! I helped them!” you chirped, bounding ahead of her on all fours, tail wagging like crazy. Every few leaps you turned to look back at her, eyes wide with excitement, panting through your grin. The trees felt lighter now, the air crisp and proud in your lungs. You did something good—you helped.

But Natasha didn’t share your bounce.

“Do not ever do that again.” Her voice cut through your joy like a firm hand to the chest. You stopped mid-bound, landing in a crouch, ears flicking back at the tone. It was that training tone. The one she used when you chewed something you shouldn’t or got too mouthy.

She walked past you without stopping, not even looking down as she said it again, quieter this time but no less sharp, “Not ever again, Bumble.”

Your chest sank a little as you followed her, slower now. You weren’t in trouble—not really—but you knew that voice. It meant worried, even if she’d never admit it.

You crept closer, brushing against her thigh until she sighed and her hand dropped to your hair, fingers threading through it absentmindedly.

“Could’ve lost you,” she muttered. “I would've lost my mind. What would I have told Wanda?”

“M’sorry, Daddy…” you murmured, voice barely more than a breath, hoarse and small. “It was instinct to protect. Didn’t mean to worry…”

Natasha didn’t say anything right away. She sat down heavily on the log near the fire, the quiet pop of the flames the only sound between you. You curled up at her feet, your limbs folding in tight, ears tucked back, tail wrapping around yourself like a blanket.

The heat of the fire kissed your skin, low but steady, casting long shadows that danced gently across the clearing. You peeked up at her—her jaw was tight, hands braced on her knees, eyes locked on the embers like they held all the answers.

Then slowly, one hand left her knee and slid down, knuckles brushing your shoulder before settling in your hair. She didn't pet you. Just held you there. Grounded you.

“I know, Bumble…” she finally said, voice quieter than usual, rougher. “I know you didn’t mean to scare me.”

She ran her fingers through your hair once, twice.

“You did good,” she added after a moment. “But I need you to let me keep you safe too. That’s my job, yeah?”

You gave a soft whine and nodded, leaning your head against her leg, your nose tucked under her knee like you were trying to disappear into her.

“I’ll always come back, Daddy. Promise.”

“I know,” she said, and this time her hand moved with more purpose, stroking your head slowly. “Just… maybe let me talk to the wild animals next time, okay?”

You gave a tired little huff of a laugh. “Okay, Daddy.”

[trashytracktales]

Flâner | CL¹⁶

. ݁₊ ⊹ summary ──── It’s the beginning of the summer break, and Charles and his girlfriend escape the chaos of racing life for a peaceful hike in the Monte Carlo hills.

. ݁₊ ⊹ pairing ──── Charles Leclerc x she/her reader

. ݁₊ ⊹ rating ──── teen

. ݁₊ ⊹ warnings ──── 13+, very short, established relationship, protective!Charles, intimate kissing, fluff.

. ݁₊ ⊹ word count ──── 1.7k

. ݁₊ ⊹ date ──── Mar. 4, 2025

. ݁₊ ⊹ a/n ──── Guys, I know. I still have requests piled up in my inbox, but I missed writing for Charles, and I was in a desperate need for some fluff 🥺🤍

GOLDEN RAYS ARE bathing Monaco in a warm, summery glow. It’s still early when their shoes crunch against the rocky trail, as Charles winds their way through the hills overlooking Monte Carlo. Below them, the city shimmers like a dream, with red-tiled rooftops, glinting glass windows, and the endless blue of the sea stretching out to the horizon.

The air is rich with a salty scent and wildflowers, the faint hum of cicadas blending with the distant crash of waves against the rocky shore below.

He walks ahead her, his athletic frame moving with ease as if the incline is barely noticeable, while she trails a few steps behind, taking her time to admire the scenery and catch her breath. But the summer heat grows heavier the higher they climb, and Charles eventually takes his shirt off, tossing it carelessly around his neck.

“How are you holding up?” he calls over his shoulder, his voice tinged with caution.

“Never better,” she replies almost breathless, her focus more on the dazzling view than the uneven trail. As she shifts her weight forward, her foot slips on a loose rock, her balance teetering dangerously.

Before she can even cry out, Charles appears next to her, his arms catching her around the waist to keep her on her feet. Her heart starts racing instantly, not just from the stumble but from the sudden nearness of him, his skin warm and slick.

“Never better, hm?” he mocks, but doesn’t let go immediately, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “Let’s find some shade,” he adds, looking at her flushed cheeks.

He leads her a few more steps up the trail until they come across a small alcove, shielded by rocks and a thin canopy of greenery. The breeze here is softer, cooling, carrying the tang of the sea. Charles pulls his shirt from where it hangs around his neck, spreading it over the smoothest rock he can find, and encourages her to sit on it while handing her the bottle of water from his backpack.

She does as he says, watching him as he stands before her, his chest glistening in the sunlight. He is breathtaking, and he knows it too, judging by the teasing smile he throws her way.

“What?” asks Charles, catching her staring.

“Nothing,” she says a bit too quickly, though the faint blush in her cheeks betray her.

They sit in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping water and taking in the view. The Mediterranean is agitated today, its surface sparkling like crushed glass, and the sound of birds chirping mingles with the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze.

“I like you here. You’re… different,” she says after a while, her voice soft as she turns to him. She just realized this and, even though she hasn’t had time to analyze her thought, she knows it’s true.

Charles looks at her curiously. “Different how?”

She shrugs, “Don’t know. Relaxed? No worries?” she continues, leaning slightly toward him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this, but I love it.”

He smiles, timid yet genuine. “I could get used to it,” he agrees.

The simplicity of his words strikes her, and something in her chest tightens. She gestures for him to move closer, patting the space between her legs. “Come here,” she encourages him. “Let me put some sunscreen on you before you burn.”

Charles hesitates for a moment, smirking playfully. “Is this an excuse to touch me, chérie?”

“Obviously,” she says matter-of-factly. “Sit,” she orders then, narrowing her eyes, though her lips twitch with amusement.

Charles settles himself between her legs, his back against her chest. Patiently, she squirts some sunscreen into her hands, the cool lotion contrasting with the warmth of his skin as she begins to rub it into his shoulders. Her fingers move in measured circles, massaging all the tension away.

“I swear, you’re never careful,” she scolds softly, her voice carrying just enough exasperation to make him chuckle.

“I have you to take care of me,” Charles admits, shrugging, his voice dropping an octave as her touch lulls him into relaxation.

He leans his head back against her shoulder, eyes closed, completely at ease. She tilts her head down, her lips brushing softly against his temple, a whisper of a touch that makes him hum in contentment. She lingers there for a heartbeat before she shifts, her lips finding his.

The kiss starts tender, her mouth fitting against his like a perfect puzzle piece. His lips are soft, warm, and she can taste the faint saltiness of his skin, mingled with the sweetness of her strawberry lip balm. It’s a slow dance between them, gentle and exploratory, as though savoring the moment of peace they’ve been craving for quite a while now. But then Charles turns slightly, angling himself better toward her, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her neck. And just like that, the kiss deepens, and she feels his tongue brush against her bottom lip, seeking the permission she grants without hesitation. When their tongues meet, it’s sensual and it makes her stomach flip. A quiet whimper escapes her throat as he pulls her closer, his fingers threading through her hair. The sound ignites something in him, and his grip tightens, his lips moving against hers with more intensity. His teeth graze her lip, gentle but teasing, before he soothes the sensation with another kiss, deeper this time, making her heart race.

Instinctively, her hands slide over his shoulders, fingers curling against his skin as if to anchor herself. She feels everything — his heat, the rapid thrum of his pulse beneath her touch, the way he pours every feeling into the kiss. It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, and utterly Charles.

When they finally part, both breathless and flushed, their foreheads press together. She opens her eyes to find him staring at her, his gaze darkened with a mix of affection and desire. He’s silent, his thumb brushing her cheek as though words aren’t enough to express what he’s feeling.

Her lips tingle, swollen and warm, and all she can do is smile, her fingers trailing down his jaw as she whispers, “You’re so full of yourself, it’s unbelievable.”

Charles chuckles, his voice low and hoarse. “Wrong, ma chérie. I’m so in love, it’s unbelievable.”

Her breath catches for a second, and she knows he feels it. Charles is always aware of the effect he has on her, and he never fails to tease her about it. But this time, there’s no smug grin, no playful remark. Just the truth, plain and unguarded, sitting in the space between them.

She exhales a little sigh, her fingers slipping down to tangle with his, their hands resting against his bare chest.

Neither of them speaks for a while, because they don’t need to. The breeze carries the scent of salt and earth, warm and comforting, wrapping around them like an embrace.

Eventually, they start their descent back down the trail. Charles holds her hand the entire time, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over the back of her knuckles, a subconscious promise to keep her safe. Every now and then, he steadies her when the terrain becomes tricky, always aware of her pace, always making sure she doesn’t fall behind. But then he stops suddenly, his eyes catching something small between the cracks of the rocky path. With a boyish grin, he bends down and plucks a delicate dandelion from the ground, twirling it between his fingers.

She raises an eyebrow. “What… are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he holds the dandelion up, inspecting it with exaggerated seriousness. Then, with a quick breath, he blows on it, sending the tiny white seeds fluttering into the air. They dance on the breeze before drifting toward the sea below.

The girl watches them disappear, then looks at him suspiciously. “Did you just make a wish?”

Charles smirks, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Maybe.”

She smirks at him. “What did you wish for?”

He hums, pretending to think about it, but the way his gaze softens when he looks at her gives him away. “If I tell you, it won’t come true, right?”

She scoffs, nudging his side. “You’re ridiculous.”

Charles gasps, clutching his chest like she’s wounded him with her affirmation. “Mon Dieu! Don’t break my heart.”

She giggles, shaking her head as she squeezes his hand. “You’ll survive.”

“Only if my wish comes true.”

She rolls her eyes, but her heart flutters all the same. Because deep down, she knows that whatever he wished for, it probably had something to do with her.

When they reach the main path, she expects him to lead them straight home, but instead, he veers left, toward the coastline.

“The long way?” she asks, smiling.

Charles nods, squeezing her hand. “We’re not in a rush, are we?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “I suppose not.”

The Mediterranean breeze is cooler near the water, and the scent of salt stronger. The waves lap gently at the shore, glistening under the afternoon sun. They walk along the sand, shoes in hand, feet sinking slightly with each step. The occasional splash of water kisses their ankles, a teasing reminder of how close the sea is.

Then, without warning, Charles tugs her hand sharply, pulling her off balance.

“Charles!” she squeals as she stumbles forward, but before she can protest, she’s in his arms, and they’re both wading into the water. The sea engulfs them up to their waists, cool against the lingering heat on their skin. She gasps at the sensation, laughing breathlessly as she clings to him. “You realize we’ll have to walk back home looking like two wet dogs.”

He chuckles, his hold on her never loosening. “So what?”

Before she can retort, he kisses her — deeper and consuming, the sound of waves crashing around them blending with the rapid thrum of her heart. His arms wrap tightly around her waist, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between them. Her hands slip up to his shoulders, fingers pressing into the warm, wet skin as she melts into him.

The kiss is slow but intense, the heat of the sun above them matched only by the fire building between them. His tongue slides against hers, teasing, tasting, and when she exhales a quiet moan against his lips, he swallows the sound like it belongs to him.

Charles smiles first, pressing one last lingering kiss to the corner of her lips.

“Now,” he murmurs, “How about ice cream for dinner?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[emakataken]

Part 5.B

Idea: After a chance meeting at a firefighter bar, Tommy Kinard a guarded Air Ops pilot and Buck a restless academy recruit, fall into something neither of them saw coming.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5.A

~*~*~

They lean against the hood of Tommy’s truck while they eat, watching the line shuffle forward, letting the city hum around them. There’s something peaceful in it. The kind of quiet that Buck never takes for granted.

“You’ve got, what, a month left?” Tommy asks, casually licking a streak of salsa from his thumb.

Buck nods. “Three and a half weeks. Then two weeks off before I report to my probationary house.”

Tommy doesn’t look at him right away. Just finishes his taco and tosses the wrapper into the trash can near the curb. When he turns back, he lets out a sigh and their a flicker of nerves in his gaze that finds his. “So,” he says, “how about we take a trip?”

 “A trip?”

“Yeah. I was thinking Moab,” Tommy says, casual like it’s already decided. “Mickey’s letting me borrow his plane for the week. Sal’s brother Gio owns a bunch of vacation rentals across the U.S. said he’d rent us one cheap.”

Buck blinks at him, taco halfway to his mouth. “Wait, you’re serious?”

Tommy grins. “Hell yeah. Hiking. Rafting. Maybe some ATV trails. Skydiving, if you still feel like showing off.”

There’s something in his voice, light and deliberate. Like he’s offering more than just a trip. Like he’s asking for something neither of them has said out loud.

“I was also thinking,” Tommy says slowly, “quiet desert skies. A cold beer. Just us.”

He doesn’t push, watches as the words take root. The streetlight above them flickers on, bathing Buck in flickering, golden light. It halos him, makes the bruise on his jaw look like warpaint.

Buck swallows, a little too hard. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, okay.”

They drive back with the windows down, music low, the kind that crackles like it’s playing off an old tape deck. Buck’s laughter catches in the wind. He looks loose. Unburdened. Like someone who hasn’t had to fight for this moment.

Tommy pulls up to the curb, headlights casting a long glow across the cracked driveway. The house looks even worse at night. Paint peeling. A broken porch light flickering weakly. A busted screen door rattles in the breeze.

Buck reaches for the handle. “Thanks for today.”

Tommy doesn’t answer right away. He just watches the front porch, brows slowly drawing together. There’s a shape in the shadows.

A man sits in a lawn chair just left of the steps, one boot propped up on the railing, arms folded across his chest. He’s got a cop’s haircut and a jawline sharp enough to cut someone. His gaze is locked on the truck.

Buck freezes halfway out. His face goes pale. “Fuck.”

Tommy glances at him. “Friend of yours?”

Buck’s jaw tightens. “Stay here.”

He shuts the door before Tommy can argue.

Zen stands as Buck reaches the bottom step, voice low and pissed. “What the fuck, Buckley?”

“Jesus, Zen,” Buck mutters. “You stalking me now?”

“Didn’t have to. You weren’t answering your texts. Your phone was going straight to voicemail. So I used the last address you had on file. Figured I’d find you dead or drunk. But this?” He gestures to the house, disgust curling his mouth. “This is worse.”

“Don’t start,” Buck snaps, already moving past him toward the porch.

Zen follows. “You living in a rent-share frat den with mold on the siding and a mattress on the floor. Are you fucking using?”

Buck spins. “What?”

“You heard me.” Zen’s voice sharpens, slicing through the air. “You drop off the map, stop responding to the team, cut off Ghost’s goddamn mother after she tried to send you a care package. So yeah. I have to ask.”

“I’m not using,” Buck growls.

“Then what the hell is this?” Zen gestures toward the sagging porch. “You’re a Medal of Honor recipient, Buck. And you’re sleeping ten feet from where someone OD’d last week? I talked to your landlord. Told him you were prior military. Flagged a wellness check. He said you haven’t missed rent, but you come and go at odd hours and don’t talk to anyone.”

Buck shoves a hand through his hair. “This is temporary.”

“You’ve been out here for fifteen months.”

Buck’s voice drops. “I didn’t ask for a rescue.”

Zen steps forward, eyes narrowing. “You didn’t ask for anything. You disappeared. You ghosted the only people who ever had your six.”

“Bullshit,” Buck spits. “I called Trigger. You were in D.C. A coma. I was here. Alone. And you know what he said? He told me to lose his number.”

Zen doesn’t move, but his jaw ticks like Buck just confirmed his worst suspicion.

Buck lets out a bitter laugh. “So don’t stand there pretending I’m the one who walked away. Your golden boy made it real clear I wasn’t welcome anymore. I tried to save Ghost. I did.”

The porch door creaks behind him. One of his roommates stumbles out, stinking of weed as he disappears down the street.

Zen watches him go, nose wrinkled. “You call this living?”

“I call it starting over,” Buck snaps. “I blew through my entire savings just surviving. The surgeries. The rehab. The meds. The shit I had to outsource because the VA denied me at every other turn. You know why? Because my file is so redacted I can’t even verify half of what happened.”

He takes a step forward. “I joined the academy because I had to. Because I didn’t know how to be a civilian. But I sure as hell couldn’t be a ghost.”

Zen exhales like he’s been hit. “We didn’t drop you.”

“You could’ve fooled me.”

“I was in the hospital,” Zen says, sharp. “Six months. Then another six in rehab. I only found out what happened in Ghazni from Jace, months after the fact. By then, Ghost was gone. Trigger was a mess. Everyone else was still deployed or scattered, and no one knew how to reach you. We thought…” He hesitates. “I thought you needed space.”

Buck’s expression flickers. Not enough to crumble, but it cracks something under the surface.

“I needed someone,” he says quietly. “And no one showed.”

Zen doesn’t have an answer for that. He just stands there, jaw clenched, guilt flickering in his eyes.

The truck door opens behind them, slow and deliberate. Buck tenses. Zen turns.

Tommy approaches calm, quiet. His posture reads military, steady in a way that sets off every instinct Zen has.

“You good?” Tommy asks Buck, voice low and even.

Buck nods once.

Zen’s eyes flick between them. “Who the hell are you?”

“Tommy Kinard,” he says simply. “Friend.”

Zen clocks the pause. The way Buck doesn’t correct it. The way Tommy doesn’t flinch.

“Right,” Zen says. Too sharp. “Friend.”

Buck steps in before Tommy can speak. “It’s late. You’ve said your piece. Go home, Zen.”

Zen doesn’t move. “We’re not done.”

Buck’s voice drops. “I know. We’re brothers.”

Tommy stays quiet as Zen stalks off down the sidewalk, boots crunching against broken glass.

Buck watches him go. Tommy reaches out. Just enough to rest a hand lightly between Buck’s shoulder blades. “You okay?”

Buck’s nod is more breath than motion. “Can we go?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says. “Yeah. Come on.”

They drive in silence for a while.

The city slides by strip malls with blinking neon. Empty bus stops. Busy restaurants, bars and gas stations.  As they hit their fourth red light in a row, Buck exhales. “I didn’t want you to see it like that,” he says finally. “The place. Me.”

Tommy’s hands stay steady on the wheel, but his voice is quiet when he answers. “That’s why you usually meet me.”

Buck doesn’t deny it.

The next turn comes up fast. Tommy takes it smooth and the truck hums as he speeds up. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks after a beat.

Buck lets out a breath as the truth spills out. “Because the second you knew, you’d want to fix it.”

Tommy doesn’t argue.

“And I’m not a rescue mission,” Buck adds, voice low.

Tommy doesn’t reply, not with words. Just flicks his blinker and pulls over into the nearest parking lot. He reaches out, fingers brushing lightly against the back of Buck’s neck. “I’ve seen your fight,” Tommy says quietly.

Buck finally looks at him. The tiredness is back in his eyes. Something frayed and old behind the brightness. “I’m not ashamed,” Buck says. “But I didn’t want you to look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I need saving.”

Tommy holds his gaze. “That’s not what this is.”

Tommy shifts back into drive.

Buck leans his head against the window, watching streetlights flicker past in soft intervals. There’s no tension in his shoulders now, just that quiet kind of exhaustion.

Tommy doesn’t take him back to the frat house. He doesn't take him to his own place either.

Instead, he turns onto a familiar residential street lined with citrus trees and kids’ bikes abandoned in yards.

The truck slows in front of Sal and Gina’s. The porch light is still on.

Buck frowns. “What are we doing here?”

“Gina’s making coffee,” Tommy says simply. “Sal’s been pretending not to spy on your living situation for months now.” He looks over at Buck. “You’ve got people,” he says. “Let them show up.”

The house smells like garlic bread and baby shampoo. Somewhere inside, a toddler shrieks with laughter. Gina’s in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, pouring coffee like she’s been expecting them.

“Sit,” she says, not looking up. “Sal’s putting the girls to bed.”

Buck perches on the edge of a stool. Tommy stands behind him, his hand resting against Buck’s back. Warm. Steady. Solid.

“You’re not staying in that shithole anymore,” Gina says.

Buck opens his mouth, but she cuts him off.

“Before you argue, we’ve got a garage apartment out back. It’s ugly, but it’s functional. You help us fix it up, it’s yours.”

Buck looks to Tommy then back to Gina. “You’re serious?”

Gina snorts, grabbing a stack of crayon-covered drawings from the fridge. “You think I’m letting a war hero live next to a bunch of barely-legal who throw keggers on weeknights?”

She shakes her head, thumb brushing over a child’s scribbled picture of a stick-figure firefighter looking up at a helicopter. “Please, Buckley. Between four daughters under twelve and Sal’s ‘home improvements,’ you don’t even crack my top five disasters. “Her voice softens. “We love you, kid. The girls adore you. Family helps family.”

Buck shifts, throat working. “You don’t have to do this. I don’t want to… take advantage. Or complicate things.”

Tommy sets his mug down, slower than usual. He leans forward, elbows braced on his knees. His voice is steady at first, but there’s a pause before he speaks, like he’s weighing each word. “If it were just me?” he says. “I’d ask you to move in.”

Buck’s head snaps up.

Tommy meets his gaze, but he doesn’t look at Gina. “I would. In a heartbeat.” He pauses and lets out a shaky breath. “But I don’t want to screw this up by skipping steps. What we’re building… it matters. And it’s working.”

Buck doesn’t answer right away, just watches him. His eyes are wide, uncertain and soft, and Tommy feels every inch of Gina’s presence at his back like a spotlight.

“I want you close,” Tommy says, quieter now. His voice frays at the edges, a bit shaky. “But I also want you to have space that’s yours. Somewhere safe. No strings. Somewhere you can land on your own feet.”

Buck nods slowly, understanding coiling around him. “I’m not used to people thinking that far ahead.”

Tommy huffs, the sound small. He rubs his palms against his knees, glances once quick toward the living room, then back to Buck.

“Well,” he says with a crooked, wry smile that doesn’t quite hide how much he means it, “get used to it.”

Buck lets out a quiet breath.

Tommy nudges his shoulder, just enough to bring them back to earth. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go see what you’re working with.”

[gguk-n]

Bound by Fate (Husky!RM x Reader)

Summary- In a world where hybrids exist and require a human to continue to live in the world, Namjoon is struggling to find a replacement.

Ever since Y/N had joined work, Kim Namjoon had been a comforting presence. He had helped her adjust at work and didn't hesitate to help her incase she didn't understand what was going on. In turn, helping their friendship to blossom.

Namjoon was hardworking and kept his head down; because hybrids had only started working in an office setting and he didn't want to cause any issues or give anyone reason to point fingers at him.

Right now, Namjoon was in a crisis. His owner; a sweet and kind old lady, who had taken him in when he was a teenager after being thrown out by his first family, had raised and cared for him. She had helped him get an education and helped him apply for jobs. Hybrids needed their owner's permission to work and an ownerless hybrid went back into the system. The sweet old lady, had been diagnosed with cancer and the doctor said that she wouldn't live long. The thought frightened Namjoon, wondering what would come of him. His owner was struggling to find someone who would take Namjoon in, older hybrids weren't the most desired.

In comes Y/N. She hadn't meant to overhear his conversation. But Namjoon had been on call and was talking about stuff. "Grandma, I hope you get better, really." Namjoon insisted. "I understand, my child. But, I think it's about time we apply for temporary ownerships" she replied. Y/N bumped into a plant, alerting Namjoon who hastily cut the call. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to" she began but Namjoon quickly left.

After that incident, Y/N had tried to talk to Namjoon a couple times but he would always find a way to run away from her. Until she saw him enter a lift and ran towards him; just in the nick of time, entering the lift. "Hi" she smiled at him, slightly out of breath from the running. "Hi" Namjoon replied back. "I'm sorry about over hearing your conversation, that day" she gulped, awkwardly. "It's okay" he sighed. "I've been thinking and I think I have a solution" she spoke, making Namjoon's grey ears perk up. "It might not be the best one but maybe something you can think about" she spoke slowly. Namjoon nodding for her to continue when the lift dinged, signally they've arrived. The pair stepped out and Namjoon coaxed her to continue. "Maybe you could live with me. I have a two bedroom apartment. It quite spacious. It has a good surrounding, we have parks and hiking trails near by. There's a gym in the building, one of the amenities and a pool too" she rambled. "Y/N" he spoke. "I know it would be weird, but we'd be roommates. No one needs to know about you living with me." she elaborated. "I'll think about it" Namjoon said and walked away.

He did think about it. It was the best solution to his problem for now. He had known Y/N for 3 years, she was sweet girl; but he wasn't sure about the living together. He sat down and had a conversation with his grandma. She was very happy Namjoon had a home and that she trusted that girl since he had spoken so highly of her since she joined. And he didn't speak about other people much. She also insisted that Namjoon should try to get mated; since he was at the age both as a human and as a hybrid. Namjoon always dismissed the idea, not ready for the commitment yet. His heats had stopped since his owner had been diagnosed; he was in fight or flight.

After a long discussion and contemplating the decision on multiple sleepless nights; he approached Y/N one evening; "Can we have tea together?" he asked her. "Sure" she agreed and accompanied him. They went to a tea shop near by and ordered tea. As they waited; Namjoon's brain was short circuiting on how to start the conversation. "Did you think about my offer?" Y/N broke his out of his thoughts. Namjoon blinked twice before nodding. "What's the consensus?" she smiled reassuringly. "I'll move in" he mumbled. "I'm happy to be of help. You don't have to worry about anything. Things will stay the same, no one has to know" she beamed.

In a few days, his old owner signed over his adoption papers and Namjoon reluctantly moved in with Y/N even though he wanted to stay with her until her last days. It was soon after he moved that she ended up passing; Namjoon guessed she stopped fighting now that she was sure he was in safe hands.

The two of them fell into domestic bliss; enjoying the peace that they brought each other.

[ckret2]

Chapter 44 of human Bill Cipher wishing he was trapped in the Mystery Shack again:

The Eclipse: Part 2

Gravity is disappearing, and to find out why, Ford's inspecting the sites where the fabric of spacetime might have been damaged by Weirdmageddon. Dipper's glad to come along.

Bill really, really, really isn't.

"I am genuinely offering you helpful advice, that also happens to be self-serving because you idiots wouldn't trust me if I claimed I was being charitable anyway," Bill went on, as he'd been going on for the past five minutes. "This isn't a trick! I'm not running a con! I'm completely serious: being outside during an eclipse is the stupidest thing you could do. You don't want to watch it, I want to watch it even less, staying inside is mutually beneficial!"

"Do you think I should have brought my camera?" Dipper asked, determinedly ignoring Bill as he trailed behind them.

"What for?" Ford asked, also ignoring Bill.

"I've been trying to expand my Guide to the Unexplained series this summer—I've been doing longer episodes, a couple of them are ten minutes—but I wasn't sure if we'd see anything cool and my backpack was already heavy..."

"Hmm. I suspect either there won't be anything worth seeing—or, if there is, we'll be far too busy dealing with it to record footage."

"Yeah," Dipper sighed, "I guess you're right."

"This is why my journals have more illustrations than photographs."

Bill let out a loud groan of frustration before jogging to catch up with the humans. He checked the trail ahead to make sure he wasn't about to trip, then turned to walk sideways, facing Dipper and Ford as they walked. "Okay, fine, you win. So, just to be clear—the only reason you two are dragging me out here is to check a few locations for these imaginary 'micro-rips' you think are shredding the fabric of reality apart. Right? As soon as we've checked the three places you want, it's over, you admit you were wrong, and we go back to the shack?"

"Yes, Cipher," Ford sighed. "Once we've checked those locations, if we can't find evidence that any of the areas of most concern are near the one hundred thousand micro-rip danger threshold, we'll go home. Since dimensional rips could pop up anywhere around Gravity Falls, there's a possibility there could be clusters over the danger threshold away from the three areas of concern, but with no way to guess where they might be—"

"Fine. Then let's get this over with," Bill said. "Totality is in two days, if we're back home by tomorrow night we'll still avoid it. But if you try to drag me outside again after we get back, I'm hitting everyone with the Amnesia Limina curse and nobody's going outside."

With that threat delivered, Bill cartwheeled ahead of the humans, landed on his feet, and bounded ahead in long moonwalking lopes.

"Any idea why gravity's going down faster for him than the rest of town?" Dipper asked.

"Only that, if there are rips opening between us and the Nightmare Realm, perhaps they're giving Bill back some of his powers," Ford said. "Perhaps his powers are stored in the Nightmare Realm. Although I don't know how that would work." It was a better explanation than Bill's claim that he could just float better than humans, anyway.

The bracelet around Dipper's wrist momentarily tightened as Bill reached the far end of his invisible tether, then loosened as Dipper continue forward; and then tightened a second time, and a third time. From up the trail, Bill shouted, "Would you hurry up!" 

"You slow down! Some of us still have to walk!"

But even so, the slowly decreasing gravity was making the hike noticeably easier. Their backpacks sat lighter on their shoulders, and each stride seemed to carry them a little higher and farther than they expected. They startled a deer, and then the deer startled itself with how high it jumped.

"On second thought, it might not be a good idea to take him back to the shack while this is going on," Ford said. "Even if there aren't enough micro-rips in the basement, I'm not wholly convinced it won't end up the epicenter of whatever's about to happen. And if Bill wants so badly to be so close to it..."

From further up the trail, Bill shouted, "If you were any more paranoid, you'd be asking your own shadow why it's following you!"

"If you had access to any more of your powers, you'd be possessing my shadow!"

"Ha!" Bill had stopped to perch on a fallen tree that on any other day would have been far too slender to hold an adult's weight, balanced on it like a tightrope, and waited there for the others to catch up. "Fine, we don't need to go back to the shack, whatever makes you happy! As long as we get inside. Stanley's camper, a motel room, the old Corduroy cabin—hey, the Northwest place is pretty empty these days, isn't it? Is Specs renting out rooms, or...?"

"I am not taking you to Northwest Manor," Ford said. "Fiddleford's had enough trouble without letting you into his life again." Although that was only one of several reasons Ford wanted to keep them apart. For Fiddleford's safety, they couldn't risk Bill finding out that Fiddleford had been told his identity; and, now that Bill had confessed he could see through walls, they couldn't give him a chance to peer through the manor's walls and discover the ongoing paradox fuel synthesis project.

Bill laughed in disbelief. "Oh now you're concerned about somebody else's wellbeing, when it's his—fine! Fine, fine, fine! That's just fine! That's great! Terrific!" He hopped off his perch. "No evidence of self-preservation and let's not even think about respecting the triangle's wishes, but when the hillbilly might be in imaginary danger—!"

"That 'hillbilly' is one of the most brilliant men alive and the best friend I've ever known—"

"Ha!" Angrily, Bill yelled, "Some best friend, he erased you straight out of his head! You don't even know what a best friend is!"

Ford winced—he knew he'd never been much of a friend back to Fiddleford—but while he was gearing himself up to defend himself against whatever accusation Bill lobbed next, Bill turned away from the humans and stormed up the trail, leaving them behind as the weaving path took him behind several trees.

Every couple of steps, Dipper's bracelet twitched against his wrist as Bill tried to get even further ahead and was thwarted. He chuckled. "Do you think you touched a nerve?"

The corner of Ford's mouth quirked up; but he shook his head. "He's just mad he's not getting his way. As usual."

####

"I take it this is our first destination," Bill said, hands planted on his hips, looking around the forest. "This looks like the area where Shooting Star gave me the rift."

Dipper said, "You mean the place where you tricked—"

Bill shoved Dipper's hat down over his eyes. "Anyway, that aside, all the glued-shut wormholes and this are a bigger hint." He tapped the tip of one dress shoe—dusty after a walk in the woods—at the start of a long crevasse in the ground weaving through the trees.

"Yes," Ford said distractedly, taking his micro-rip scanner out of his backpack and turning it on. "This is the place." He took an initial reading, frowned, and followed the crevasse deeper into the woods.

Bill trailed along after him, gesturing at the jagged lines of bending light hanging in the air. "You did a terrible repair job, by the way. Stretching the edges of the rips to meet like that puts more stress on the reality in between the rips. You should have sutured them and let them heal naturally," Bill said. "If there are a bunch of tiny rips in the area, your own shoddy work probably caused them."

"Mm-hm," Ford said, fully focused on the scanner.

Bill's shoulders slumped. He hopped to the other side of the crack in the earth from Ford and strode ahead purposefully, ignoring him.

He glanced at a wooden sign staked next to the crack, nearly passed it, and did a double take. The sign read "MABEL'S FAULT". Bill laughed in surprise. "Who did this?"

"What—?" Dipper caught up and saw the sign. "Oh."

####

2012

Mabel's smile faded as she entered the clearing. "Oh. I... think this is the place where—Bill tricked me in Blarblar's body."

"Guess that explains all the rips in this area," Dipper said. He patted Mabel's back.

She looked down—and spotted the new crack in the ground. She gasped, immediately latching on to the distraction. "Hey, what's that! That wasn't here before!" She knelt next to the crack and peered inside. "Whoa!"

"Huh. Maybe it opened up when the rift broke?"

"How deep do you think it goes?" Mabel hopped back up, straddled the gap, and yelled down into it, "Hello!"

"Careful," Dipper said. "What if it's unstable?"

"We should give it a name," Mabel said. "It's a new geographic feature! We can put it on maps and be famous! What'll we call it?"

"Huh." Dipper stroked his chin. "Well... it looks kind of like a miniature fault line... and you were here when it formed, so I guess that kinda means you discovered it... so maybe... 'Mabel's Fault'...?"

Mabel stared at him.

Dipper's eyes widened in horror. "Oh. Ohh no."

Mabel bit her lip.

"I didn't mean it that way! I swear I didn't mean it that way—"

"Dipper!" Mabel cracked up. "We're calling it that."

"No," Dipper said, mortified. "Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. Please please don't—"

"Grunkle Staaan, Grunkle Fooord!" Mabel took off toward where they'd last seen their grunkles. "Did you hear what Dipper said—!"

"I'm sorryyy!"

####

2013

Dipper cringed. "Look, I didn't hear it until I said it out loud, okay—"

Bill burst out in shrill cackles.

"I didn't mean it!"

"Y-you're the worst brother ever!"

Dipper groaned, contemplated climbing down into the fault, and instead settled for pulling his hat down over his face again.

Ford passed by with the scanner, shot Bill a suspicious sideways look, and demanded, "What's so funny?"

Still laughing, Bill gestured at the "MABEL'S FAULT" sign.

"Oh." Ford glanced at Dipper, fought not to smile at the poor kid's embarrassment—he'd gotten enough teasing last summer—and said, "Right." He moved on.

"Hey," Bill called, "What's the score?"

Ford paused, but didn't reply.

"Well?" Bill pressed. "You're already past where the rift broke! Don't you figure that's where the most rips would be?"

Ford said, "The scanner's detecting about fourteen thousand."

Bill whistled. He meandered back to Ford's side of the fault. "Sounds like a lot. I'm telling you, the wormholes in this place should've been sutured, that's what your problem is."

"It is a lot," Ford said brusquely. He hesitated. "But."

"But?" Bill prompted.

"But... it's less than a fifth of what we'd expect to see if the fabric of reality were falling apart."

"Wow. Let me pretend to be surprised." Bill made zero effort to look surprised. "That's because the fabric of reality isn't falling apart. You idiot."

Ford glared at his scanner silently.

"You fool," Bill tried. "You buffoon."

Ford rounded furiously on him. "The more you say it's nothing, the more you just convince me that you're lying!"

"Which is stupid! If you always assume I'm lying, how do you know I'm not saying 'it's nothing' to trick you into thinking it's something when it isn't!"

"I don't know! There's no way to know with you! That's why I'm checking with a scanner!" Ford pointed aggressively at the scanner. "Because I'm a scientist!"

"You're a pretty pathetic scientist if you refuse to listen when the expert on a topic tells you what's—"

"—maybe if the self-proclaimed 'expert' weren't a mythomaniac—"

"Guys," Dipper said tiredly. "You've had this argument three times. Can we move on?"

Ford closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "Right."

"No," Bill said. "Not until I win it."

"Can it, Bill." Ford glanced toward the sky to orient himself, looked around for the path through the trees, and started walking. "Come on. Next site—the place where the rift closed."

Bill clenched his jaw. Under his breath, he muttered, "As if I've ever done anything in my life to make me look untrustworthy..." He glanced up as well—and his gaze lingered on the sky much longer than Ford's.

####

"So I was thinking about what we could do after this," Dipper said, looking hopefully up at Ford.

It took a moment for Ford to drag himself out of his thoughts and look at Dipper. "Yes? You mean after..."

"After the ecl—" Dipper winced, "the... rips get sealed, or whatever's going on." He'd pulled out his journal and was holding it hopefully. "Maybe... I could show you the research I've been doing on the Fremont Nightwigglers? I think they've been stealing pants in town."

He gave Dipper a little more attention. "Is this one of their migration years?" 

"Yeah, I think so! One was caught on a security camera—or at least what looks like one. Here." Dipper flipped open to the two-page spread he was currently working on and held it up for Ford to inspect.

He studied the pictures, smiling slightly. "Would you look at that. Very impressive research. I only experienced one migration during my time in Gravity Falls, and they'd all but moved on by the time I caught wind of it. Never even saw one—I had to interview the townspeople to get a description of them."

"Really? I don't remember seeing them in your journals."

"Ah, they never made it in. I was focused on compiling magical spells and artifacts for Journal 2 at the time. I took some notes with the thought of putting them in Journal 1, but never felt like I'd collected enough information to write about them—especially when I hadn't witnessed one myself," Ford said. "You've already collected more here than I ever did. I wasn't even sure they were real!"

Dipper's face lit up. "Really? It's not that much—I still haven't found one yet either, it's mostly interviews about the crime spree."

"It's more real investigative work than I did on them. I only got as far as asking a couple of people at the diner to describe the local stories. You've got the dates and times they've been hitting the stores."

"I guess so." Dipper beamed proudly. "I haven't heard any 'local stories' about them, though. I only recognized them from a documentary I saw on Californian cryptids."

"That might be the Blind Eye's handiwork. Everyone recognized the name when I lived here. I'll see if I can dig up the notes I took, you might find the information valuable," Ford said. "I'm not sure where I left them, but they're probably still somewhere in my study."

"Scrapbook in your study on the top right corner of your desk," Bill said. "Under the box of glue bottles. You're welcome."

Ford threw him an irritated look. Bill had gotten ahead of them while Ford was looking at Dipper's journal, and now he was crouched beside a creek, scooping up handfuls of water, momentarily inspecting them, and letting them spill back out. The eye on the hood stared balefully up at Ford from Bill's back.

Ford asked, "What in the world are you doing."

"Communing with the dread harbingers of the coming eclipse," Bill said flatly. "You can't see them of course, they're invisible to you."

"Of course." Ford muttered, "I don't know why I bother to ask."

Under his breath, Bill mumbled, "Don't know why he bothered to ask."

Ford studied the creek and checked his map. They were hiking east toward the lake, with the town to their south and the cliff to the north; the creek ran north to south in front of them. On the other side of the creek, southeast of them, was a thicker, overgrown part of the woods, the shadows between the trees darker and quieter. "This seems like a safe place to wait," Ford said. "Dipper, you stay here while I scan the next site. Keep him out of trouble."

Dipper nodded. Bill cast Ford a sullen look, then rolled his eye and looked back at the water.

"After I've checked the next spot, we'll follow the cliffside to the lake," Ford said, pointing northeast, away from the dark area of the forest. "If there's still daylight, we can take a boat behind Trembley Falls and set up camp inside the cave."

"Sounds good." Dipper looked at Bill's tiny borrowed backpack. "You... didn't bring a tent, did you."

"Sorry, do you think I have a tent to bring?" Bill asked. "Do you expect me to slide an entire tipi out of my—"

Ford interrupted, "Dipper, you brought a tent, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Then that's sufficient. You can share my tent and we'll set up Bill's as far from ours as possible. We'll be safer that way."

Bill ignored the implicit accusation with silent dignity.

Dipper nodded. "Good idea." 

"Now, let's see..." Ford studied the creek. It was much wider than he could usually jump, but under the current gravity conditions... He bounced on the balls of his feet a couple of times, testing how light he currently felt; then took a few steps back, got a running start, and with a "hup!" leaped across the creek. He cleared it by several feet and almost ran into a tree.

Dipper gasped. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, Dipper! Just... don't know my own strength." How low was gravity now, he wondered? He could see grass swaying beneath the surface of the creek. It hadn't rained lately; without as much gravity, even water was being pulled down less, letting it rise higher and flood the creek's banks. He hoped they figured out how to reverse this before the lake flooded. When they made it into the cave, they'd have to camp on high ground. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Dipper side-eyed Bill; but when he kept gazing into the water without a word, Dipper said suspiciously, "What, no complaints about camping?"

"What's there to complain about?" Bill asked.

"I don't know, you've complained about everything else so far."

"This is the only part of your expedition that isn't a terrible idea," Bill said. "I love camping! Hypothetically. The Nightmare Realm isn't known for picturesque campgrounds. But hey, I like being surrounded by trees. And a private tent? Deluxe accommodations! It's just too bad you'll be dragging the mood down."

"Hey."

Bill laughed. "You're too easy."

Dipper scowled. "You don't seem like the type to be into camping."

"Why not?"

Dipper thought about it. "Man, I dunno, you just—seem like a city person? You're always talking about how much you want to throw wild parties, that's basically the opposite of camping in the woods."

"Is it?" Bill asked. "Welcome to the cult of Dionysus."

Given what Dipper could remember about Dionysus from the book of Greek mythology he'd read in sixth grade, he supposed wild parties and hanging out in the woods weren't mutually exclusive. So what was it about Bill that made Dipper feel so strongly that he wouldn't be caught dead roughing it?

Finally, Dipper said, "I guess it's the top hat and bow tie."

"They're not a top hat and bow tie."

He gave Bill a perplexed look. "Really? What are they?"

"Did you ever read that horror story about the bride with a velvet ribbon tied in a bow around her neck, and when her new husband unties it, her head falls off her neck and bounces down the stairs—?"

Dipper shuddered. "I'm sorry I asked."

Bill laughed.

After a brief silence, he finally dragged his eyes away from the water and impressively flicked a couple of mosquitoes out of the air with a finger. (Dipper wished he could do that. His arms were coated in soothsquito bite messages. He wondered what "BURN TACK" was supposed to mean.) Bill took off his backpack, rummaged around in it, and muttered, "I should've brought a book." He looked around the bank of the creek for a patch of sunlight, pushed his sleeves and leggings up to expose as much skin as possible, and flopped down in the light, eyes shut and hands laced on his chest over the backpack.

Dipper supposed that meant he was being ignored. He took his journal back out and flipped to the section on the Nightwigglers. He'd need some empty space to add Ford's local folklore once they got home. Was there any open space in the next few pages?

"It really shouldn't be called 'Mabel's Fault,'" Bill said out of the blue. "It's not her fault. It should be called 'Bill's Fault.' I'm the one who made it, aren't I?"

Dipper lowered his journal. "Sorry, are you actually accepting blame for something? You're admitting you did something wrong?"

Bill didn't even open his eyes. "I'm not 'accepting blame,' I'm claiming credit. Weirdmageddon was great. Can't help that you're all too boring to see that."

"But you said 'Bill's Fault.' Not 'Bill's Triumph' or something."

"Sure, because we're talking about a geological fault. Don't read too deep into it, kid."

"Pff, no, you definitely said it was your fault. I can't believe Grunkle Ford missed that—"

Bill abruptly sat up. "Hey. What's the 'next site.'"

"What?"

Bill counted off on his fingers, "Six-Fingers said there are four sites you want to hit, right? The place where the rift formed, the place Weirdmageddon started, the place the rift was during Weirdmageddon, and the place Weirdmageddon ended. The rift formed at the portal—been there—Weirdmageddon started at the fault—been there—during Weirdmageddon it was in the sky—going there tomorrow—so where did Weirdmageddon end? Wasn't it in the sky too?"

"Oh," Dipper said. "It's just. Y'know. It's just a... place."

Bill gave him a sharp look.

Dipper swallowed hard. "No big deal. Just... trees and stuff."

Bill flipped up his eye patch, staring in the direction Ford had disappeared. Dipper could see the white of his eye turning red.

"Hey!" Dipper got in front of Bill, trying to block the view of the forest. "It's nothing important. You—you wouldn't even be interested. Really."

Bill just stared straight through Dipper. And then, before Dipper could react, Bill was on his feet and bolting past him. By the time Dipper turned around Bill was already across the creek, following the path Ford had taken.

"No no no, come back!" Dipper jumped the creek and sprinted after Bill, shouting, "Don't go that way, you can't go that way, Bill—"

There was a dark, quiet knot of overgrown plant life deep in the forest, as if no animals had dared visit the area for nearly a year, leaving it to choke itself on its own greenery. Bill was headed straight for the heart of it. He moved through the trees like a swimmer through underwater ruins, kicking off trunks to propel himself forward, grabbing branches to help twist his body around and between them without slowing down—more flying than running, gravity hardly seeming to touch him at all.

He barreled past Ford and his scanner without even acknowledging him. Ford gasped, "Wait—" He turned the direction Bill had come from.

Dipper was squeezing between two trees and tripped over a hidden root. "Grunkle Ford—!"

"Dipper! You still have the bracelet!" Ford pointed, "Run the other direction!"

"Right!" He turned around and squeezed back between the dense trees.

And Ford took off after Bill.

Wild brambles tore at Bill's skin and ripped at his hoodie; he ignored the pain, letting the prickles bite into him as he forced his way through the shrubs—

And then he stood in the clearing, gasping in unsteady breaths, his wide unblinking eyes staring.

In front of him, wide unblinking eye staring vacantly into the trees, was his corpse.

"Bill!" Ford fought against the brambles, trying to figure out how Bill had gotten through. "Don't touch it! We don't know what could happen—"

Bill lunged for the statue.

The bracelet snapped tight around his wrist. Bill's fingers were inches away from his corpse's outstretched hand.

Thirty feet away, Dipper's bracelet went tight while he was trying to scramble over an ancient log. He awkwardly tried to keep his balance on the log; rather than risk toppling back in Bill's direction, he flung his weight the other way, keeping the invisible thread between them taut by leaning so far over that if it weren't for the bracelet holding him up he'd fall to the forest floor.

Bill fell to his knees, clawing at the dirt and grass with his free hand and feet, desperate to drag himself closer in spite of the completely immovable bracelet.

It seemed impossible to Ford that the thin invisible thread wrenching Bill's arm back would hold him for long; Bill would sooner dislocate his own shoulder to gain those last few inches. Ford fell out of the brambles and seized one of Bill's legs. "Bill—"

Bill tried to kick Ford in the face. "You KNEW!" he shrieked. "You knew I was here this WHOLE TIME and you NEVER TOLD ME, you ANIMALS! I could have had my body back! I COULD BE HOME!"

That was exactly what Ford was afraid of. Gritting his teeth, Ford wrapped an arm around Bill's torso and the other around his neck, struggling to get enough purchase on the torn-up ground to move Bill.

Wheezing for breath, Bill tried to kick out one of Ford's knees. Ford took advantage of the split second one of Bill's feet wasn't dug in to drag him back; he only managed to move him a few inches.

But a few inches of slack on the invisible thread was enough to throw off Dipper's balance. He instinctively tried to flail back upright, overcorrected, and tumbled off the log the wrong way. "No—!"

Bill lunged out of Ford's hold, scrabbled across the last few inches to his corpse, and planted his hand on his stone face.

He froze.

Ford froze.

Nothing happened.

"N..." Bill grabbed his arm, grabbed his hand, as though trying to shake on a deal with his own body; nothing. "No." He sounded more confused than anything. "No, no, nonono..."

He hung off the statue by his grip, pressed his forehead against their joined hands. And then he let go and slowly put his trembling hand on the dead face. And then he sat there, breathing shakily, every few seconds sucking in a hitching gasp that made his shoulders jerk.

Ford gingerly got to his feet, brushed his clothes off, and looked at Bill. He didn't move for a moment; then reached for Bill's shoulder; then stopped, curled his hand into a ball, clasped it behind his back, and turned away. "Dipper," he called. "You can come back. It's..." He cast one last glance at Bill, then forced himself to look away. "It's safe."

By the time Dipper caught up, Ford had made his way back into the overgrowth, leaving Bill alone in the clearing. Dipper started, "What...?" but fell silent when he saw Ford's face. He looked past him at Bill and winced.

Ford shoved his hands in his pockets and mumbled, "We should give him..." Dipper nodded.

Bill remained kneeling for less than a minute. Then he leaned forward, used his sleeve to wipe some of the moss off of his dead eye and the bird crap off his hat and hand, and unsteadily heaved himself back to his feet. He moved like he was very, very old. He glanced over his shoulder at Ford and Dipper. "What're you two staring at." His voice sounded like somebody was attempting to strangle him and his smile looked like a zombie had pulled its skin back on wrong. "You should've said you were waiting on me. I was just..." His eyes briefly unfocused. He shook his head. "Just taking a break." His cheeks were dry. He hadn't even cried.

They stepped back as Bill wove around the brambles. Dipper swallowed hard and asked, "Are you alr—"

"Of course I am." Bill plodded mechanically toward the path out of the dense dark woods. 

Ford asked, "Do you want t—"

"What I want is to get wherever we're pitching our tents before nightfall." Bill pulled his eyepatch back in place. "You're making us camp, right?"

They had no choice. If they wanted to get to the top of Trembley Falls, reach Gravity Peak, and get back down the same day, they had to be ready to ascend in the morning. They couldn't afford to go back to the shack tonight. "Are you s—"

"What were the readings like," Bill asked.

Ford hadn't even gotten as far as taking readings around the statue; he'd still been checking the perimeter of the overgrown zone when Bill ran past. He looked for where he'd dropped his scanner, picked it up, and checked. "215 micro-rips detected. Higher than baseline levels, but—not even as high as readings around the portal."

Voice thick with venom, Bill said, "What a surprise."

When the forest had brightened again and the creek was visible, Bill turned to travel upstream alongside it. Dipper pointed across the creek at Bill's backpack. "You forgot your..."

"Right," Bill said tiredly. He hopped across the creek. 

And gasped in shock when, instead of floating across as before, he landed heavily in the middle of the creek. He squeezed his eye shut, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a long, silent inhale; and then he climbed out and grabbed his backpack. This time, he put enough force behind his jump to make it back across the creek. 

Dipper and Ford exchanged a look. Ford said, "Do you need a minute to dry—?"

"No."

"You could catch a cold in those damp—"

"I knew how germ theory works on your planet when your gill-breathing ancestors were still swimming around in their own feces," Bill snapped. "When I say 'no,' it's not because I don't understand, it's because I don't care. Don't treat me like I'm ignorant and don't act like you care."

Ford's jaw tightened. No, he didn't care. Bill accepted basic human decency as easily as he offered it. "Fine. Catch pneumonia."

"Fine!"

Ford pushed past Bill to lead the way to the lake. He tried not to notice how Bill was trembling.

####

Maybe ten minutes passed in silence before Ford worked up the nerve to say, "You—know why we didn't tell you." It was the closest he'd get to an apology.

Bill was silent for a long moment. "Of course I do." It was the closest he'd get to accepting it. "When I get my power back, I'm going to invent a very clumsy, easily startled species of bird whose feathers are scalpel blades. And then I'm unleashing a million in the shack, barricading the doors, and blowing an air horn."

Dipper grimaced. Ford muttered, "Thanks for reminding us not to feel too bad for you."

Bill let out a raw, broken laugh.

It was a very quiet hike to the edge of the lake. 

####

After spending the first half of the expedition trying to hurry Ford and Dipper up, now Bill was the anchor slowing them down. He trudged so slowly that Dipper kept having to stop to give his bracelet a little slack; but Bill kept moving, and Ford and Dipper agreed without speaking not to say anything about it.

By the time they reached the lake, the sun was just touching the rim of the mountain curling west around Gravity Falls. The water had risen so far, it flooded the roots of the trees nearest the shore. Far down the shore, distant dark dots, locals were doing cannonballs off the submerged pier, reveling in how high they could jump, how slowly they fell, and how their splashes hung suspended in the air.

Under the unusual conditions and with night coming on, Ford decided that it wasn't safe to try to set out for the cave under the falls. They'd camp on shore and start in the morning.

This, unsurprisingly, started another fight with Bill. "If we were falling behind, you should have said so, I'd have picked it up—!"

"I'm so sorry, I didn't want to imply you were too ignorant to tell the time—"

"The time isn't the issue, I just didn't think you'd give up for the night before it's even civil twilight—!"

Dipper just found a low hill to pitch his tent on.

When Bill noticed, he broke off the argument, flung his hands in the air in defeat, and crouched by the lake to sulk and study the water. He reflexively scratched his arm, pushed up his sleeve with a frown, and read the soothsquitos' message. "'Deeth in the mourning,'" he muttered. "What's deeth? That's not a word."

Maybe they'd been trying to spell teeth, Ford thought. Why would they warn Bill about teeth?

Ford pitched his tent, he and Dipper made a fire, and they attempted to reconstitute some of Ford's dehydrated astronaut food to mixed success. Bill stayed by the lake and tried to eat the cereal he'd brought, but gagged on the second handful and decided dinner wasn't worth the effort.

As Ford cleaned up after dinner, Dipper rummaged through his backpack. "Hey, Grunkle Ford. So..." He pulled out a portable chess kit. "I brought this to Gravity Falls back when I thought this would be a normal summer and I thought we might go camping? And, well, here we are, and I guess things are kiiinda weird, but, I mean... might as well...?"

Fiord smiled wanly. "I think that's just what we need to unwind."

They unrolled Dipper's canvas chess board and took several tries to set up the pieces on the uneven surface. Ford let Dipper take white; he figured the younger and less experienced player could use the advantage of going first.

Bill wandered over with a can of cider early in the match and crouched at the edge of the firelight to watch. He had rolled his sleeves back down, tied his bow tie, and flipped up his hood, and in the dimming flickering light he looked disconcertingly like his real self. He hadn't bothered to stuff his hair into his hood, and it gave the impression that some strange golden internal organs were spilling out of a gash beneath Bill's eye.

After watching for several minutes, Bill said, "Dibs on playing the winner."

Ford and Dipper said, "No."

"Why not!"

"Because we don't like you," Dipper said.

"Oh, come on." Bill ignored Dipper, turning toward Ford. "Remember how much fun we used to have?"

"I remember that you're an incorrigible cheat and made every game miserable," Ford said.

Bill reeled back. His face was hidden under the shadow of his hood, yet somehow the shadow gave off the impression of fury. He chugged half his cider, unslung his backpack, and dug around inside it. "Who wants to play against humans anyway." He unscrewed a bottle of cold medicine, topped off his cider, and poured the concoction down his throat. "Ugh. You're not even any good. Black's got mate in three and I bet neither of you can see it."

Ford and Dipper stared at the board, trying to find the looming checkmate.

Bill stood. "I'm gonna go hallucinate, pass out, and hallucinate some more. More fun than hanging out with a couple of nerdy losers playing a stupid game of..." He trudged off toward his tent, muttering to himself.

Ford concluded that Bill was probably making up the mate in three—although not confidently—and returned to the game with a sigh. "It will be nice to drop him back in the shack," he muttered.

Dipper nodded. "Yeah."

Ford won—not in three moves—and they started a new game. Several minutes in, Dipper asked hesitantly, "Grunkle Ford? Do you really think the micro-rip theory...?"

Ford pursed his lips, but admitted, "Out of all the locations of concern, you could argue that the spot in the sky where the rift spent a week floating has the highest probability of sustaining lasting damage, so we still need to check. But..." He shook his head. "Based on the empirical evidence—I'm beginning to have my doubts."

Dipper's shoulders relaxed; part of him had worried questioning the Acceptable Theory would be taken as disloyalty. "Then, what do you think about Bill's...?"

Ford snorted. "'Gravitational eclipse' explanation?" He propped his chin in his hand, thinking. "I'm only certain of two things: Bill knows exactly what's going on; and he's hiding something he doesn't want us to know. Everything he's told us so far is what he wants us to think is the truth, and because of that, any of it could be lies. He hasn't given us anything we can independently verify in any way—just vague claims he expects us to take his word for and refuses to elaborate on. Even if he is telling the truth, it doesn't matter. We have to act like... not like he's lying, per se; but like what he says has no correlation with whether it's true."

And thus had been the case with everything Bill had said and done since his capture. Every power he claimed he still had, and every power he acted like he'd lost. Every bit of magical, historical, or interdimensional trivia he spouted off to make himself sound smarter. Every sweet thing he'd said to Mabel, every favor he'd offered Stan—and every time he'd told Ford he wanted to be "friends."

Dipper nodded. "Mabel says that's just how Bill talks. He doesn't care about whether what he's saying is true, he just tells you what he thinks should be true."

Ford would have to keep that in mind when talking to Bill in the future. "That girl's a wizard with Bill. Maybe she's right." Still—he had a hard time believing that figuring out what Bill was really saying had actually been that simple all along. (Maybe he just didn't want it to be that simple, after all the time he'd wasted.)

Ford glanced down at the ring the Hand Witch had gifted him. The first time she'd given it to him in the eighties, she'd told him that if the ring ever turned black, he'd chosen the wrong friends and doomed himself. He couldn't tell if it was just the firelight, but as he looked in the deep blue cabochon now, he swore he saw a swirl of black spiraling beneath the surface. He wished he knew what that meant—was he supposed to trust Bill more, or had he already absentmindedly taken something Bill had said on faith that he shouldn't have? Had that swirl first appeared only now during the eclipse, or when Ford had started studying the miniature grimoire Bill had gifted him? Was it even due to Bill? Ford hadn't studied mood-ring-o-mancy.

Dipper snuck a rook onto Ford's back row. "Checkmate."

Ford huffed. "Well done." He'd been so distracted, he hadn't even noticed Dipper lining his rook up.

Dipper pushed Ford's king over. It dramatically fell in slow motion.

They packed up the chess board, put out the campfire, and slept uneasily.

####

In spite of the sedative cold medicine, Bill couldn't get any decent sleep. It wasn't even a good trip. Every time he shut his eyes for a few minutes, he hallucinated/dreamed that he was locked back in the shack staring at the high attic ceiling, or staring silently at Soos's bedroom—or watching over the town graveyard from high above; or locked like a hunting trophy in a glass display case in some local hick's darkened den; kidnapped and tied up beneath Gideon's bed; closed in a dark airless leather box; preserved like an ancient relic in the museum; hovering above Gravity Falls' valley and trees in the still night sky —

—or petrified in the middle of a quiet knot of overgrown plant life deep in the forest. 

Or still in the tent but with his head wrenched around wrong, unable to move or feel his limbs, staring out at an angle that should have been impossible—until he awoke with lungs heaving to find his body was right and he wasn't dead; only for the humanity of his shape to reassert itself and he envied the stone corpse.

He crawled out of his tent, threw up his ill-advised concoction of cider and cold medicine, and collapsed, slipping in and out of a delirious doze until morning.

####

(I have been so looking forward to inflicting this chapter on y'all. Hope you enjoyed, please let me know what you think, and if you thought that was bad then stay tuned for things getting even worse for Bill!! 🎉)

[clairdelunelove]

itadori "pay more attention to me" yuuji

itadori “pay more attention to me” yuuji who insistently demands your undivided attention. the two of you were lounging in his dorm room– basking in the presence of each other, a rarity that desperately needed to be celebrated. a break from the mundane cycle of school, extracurriculars, and life. you’re curled up in his bed, flipping through a small novel while he’s scrolling through his phone. he’s not on any of his social media accounts, however. no, yuuji was spellbound by how informative having a phone could be. he’s never had one (didn’t have a reason to buy a phone) so when the academy placed it into his hands– he’s taken advantage of it for your benefit. his fingers persistently scroll through a website that’s titled ‘list of potential date spots that your significant other might like.’ nose upturned as he raises the screen closer to his face to read the small print. it’s cute and you notice how his voice rises in excitement. “look at this place,” yuuji’s mouth opens in awe as he continues reading straight from the article, “it’s a cafe that also has a gaming room in the back!” he tilts his phone so you’re able to view his screen but you’re snugly pressed against the plush, maroon pillows that are piled at the head of his bed. your eyes dart to what he’s showing you before going back to your book, “it looks fun, yuu. you always pick the best places.” immediately, his lips pull into a frown at your nonchalance and he presses his forearms against the side of the bed to lean closer to you.

he tries again, however. 

“or there’s this hiking trail we can do,” he underlines it with his finger, “you know how you said you wanted to get out more? we could do this!” and he’s so precious. wide, beseeching eyes that inquisitively follow you to be aware of your likes/dislikes. you’re almost finished with your book though and the story’s resolution eases into the final moments with your favorite character. so you wave a hand at yuuji’s suggestion, “sounds good to me.” and it’s not how you’d typically react to his words. you’re generally keen about the topics he talks about, a warm glint in your gaze as he rambles about the latest movie he’s watched or how his science class is kicking his ass. he heaves. runs an exasperated hand down his face to maintain his composure. is compelled to sort this out. gritting his teeth, he shuts off his phone and tosses it on the carpeted floor. 

then, he moves all at once. knee wedged beside you, yuuji’s strong arms are thrown around you as his face dips into the slot near your neck. his fingertips maneuver to press against the sliver of uncovered skin beneath your shirt. a delicate spot that manages to pull a gasp from your glossy lips when he touches you there. “yuu, what are you doing?” you mumble, all too aware of how the both of you are sprawled on his small dorm bed. surprisingly, he draws gentle patterns against the small strip of your bare skin when he hears your candied voice. he’s quick, precise, and uncannily quiet. before long, his lips are pressed against your jaw and his warm breath caresses your skin. he reaches out to close the book in your hand; made sure to bookmark and place it on his desk. this’ll take a while. “oh,” his dark brows drew together as he chuckled, “so now you wanna talk to me.” his voice borders a lighthearted taunt, a tone you would’ve scolded if he didn’t nip at the dip of your collarbones. feverishly, his lips find yours– the safe haven that he desperately chases. “pay more attention to me,” he murmurs into your mouth before tugging you closer to him, “will ya?”

[th3w1ltedpe0ny]

◇Satisfaction◇

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: THE LAST PART TO DRY HUMPING??? Thank you guys for liking my dumbassery? Craaaaazy to think any of you would liked this weird brain shit I got goin on in this blog.

Warning: Smut, pure, unadulterated smut. Smut smutty smut smut smut! (Just enjoy-)

Word count: Noneeee! Just made this

“I really am impressed,” Al hissed into your ear as his lips trailed down your neck, fingers working deep into your clenching heat as his other hand kneaded the flesh of your breast from underneath your knitted button-up sweater, “You lasted far longer then I believed you would, but alas you didn't meet my true expectations.” His fingers curled, two digits rocking into the spongey spot right near your entrance, drawing a cry from your lips at the teasing. “I fear you haven't earned me inside you just yet.” Finished with a nip to your ear, tweaking your peak with a roll of his forefinger and thumb as your ground down into his other hand, whines and soft gasps continuing to climb in volume as fireflies hummed and blinked around you both. He'd brought you into the swamplands of his pocket dimensional room, his tie, belt, and cane strewn halfway to where he had worked you up from at the door. Your body relaxed flat against the deer demons chest upon his lap so he could have his way with you as he pleased. It was torture though, the edge that was just close enough to reach always furthering itself as he'd slow his movements or move his thumb from your swollen clit to stop that thread from snapping in two. “N-no- I- But!-” You writhed, hands feverishly trying to find a place to rest as the repetitive edging was starting to become to much. “No, Al.. I'm sorry, I never- I didn't mean—” He hushed you, grinning lips placing another kiss on your skin before he managed to switch your position on his lap, making your legs straddle a single thigh so he could see that begging expression.

That pleading look in your foggy eyes, “I'm afraid I won't be going back on my word, Darling. But I will let you have the release you crave.” He explained while moving his hands from your chest and wet, squelching cunt to your waist, from there he drew your body forward and watched as you jolted and squirmed with a noise of embarrassment from your enjoyment of the feeling. His wicked grin grew, eyes narrowing as his smile twitched until you able to see the blackness that was his gums, “Mm-” Your hips jerked against him, hands coming up to his shoulders as a brace as you began to move yourself, no longer needing Alastors help in the matter as strings of moans and blubbering gasps started up again. Satisfied with your eagerness to please yourself from his teasing attacks on your most sensitive area, he leaned further away, back falling flat onto the grass as his ears flattened against his hair and he growled at the feeling of your wet juices flowing over his pants, your knee grazing his bulge that was oh so noticeable. But not to you. “Fuck- Al.. ‘S not enough.. It's not- I can't..!” You whined, body bending forward so that you were hovering over him, hair coming undone from its once firmly tied place, framing the two of you like a curtain as the radio demons claws slipped behind your head to bring you further down. Your body was laying atop his, hands gripping the grass near the sides of his head as his lips caught you in a kiss that broke your mind in half from the unexpected action and surprising amount of affection placed behind it. He plunged his tongue as far into your mouth as he could, his other hand continuing its guidance of your lower half as your eyes rolled back into your head, and your body began to twitch harder. You were right there, and all he had to do was push you all the way. How lovely for him, to have you in this bind, and not even one with your soul but with your mind. Your leg hiked up and slung over his other thigh, your heat pressing firmly on his straining bulge before you finally could hear a noise bubble from beneath Al's static that crackled. A noise resembling a glitched moan left him, noise transferring into your mouth which you reciprocated as he bit down onto your tongue, blood falling onto his lips which he lapped desperately up before you both flipped over.

You felt the soft grass, hair messy against it as you panted against the man above you’s lips, your legs being tugged upwards as he broke the kiss and buried his face into your shoulder so he could rut down between your legs at a quick pace. “How..” He breathed heavily, eyes failing to focus properly on your blissful expression, “How dare you do this to me.. You filthy thing..!” Those words were dripped in malice, anger from the pleasure you were providing for him when he had only wanted you to break for him. You had, but at what cost to his own pleasure. This grotesquely marvelous feeling he'd detested with his entire soul finally feeling as it should, like he needed it to feel as his hips pushed harder, the throb becoming nearly unbearable. He was there, the gooey warmth finally adding to the damp spot that had nearly dried and then some as it seeped slightly through the fabric, the white stickiness gently coating your lady lips as he continued to rub against you until your own climax hit you like a truck. With a groan of sorts, hands holding him into your chest while your body arched, you came undone against him and allowed your mind to fade as he pulled himself flat down against you with a sigh before darkness consumed you.

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Autumn Break

Masterlist

The soft crunch of tires on gravel filled the air as Lando’s car rolled up the winding driveway of his family’s countryside estate. The sprawling stone cottage came into view, its warm lights glowing against the backdrop of an overcast autumn sky. The surrounding hills were painted in hues of orange and gold, leaves fluttering down with the breeze.

“This is it!” Lando announced with a grin, pulling the handbrake and hopping out. “Welcome to paradise, everyone.”

Franco was the first to step out, immediately stretching his arms. “Lando, mate, you’ve outdone yourself. This is incredible.”

Oscar followed, giving an approving nod. “I can see why you wanted to host. Feels like we’re in a painting.”

I slid out of the car last, my eyes trailing across the rolling fields. “It’s beautiful. Quiet, too.”

“Exactly the point,” Lando replied, clapping his hands. “No media, no fans, just us.”

Alex was the last to step out, his expression guarded as he adjusted his hoodie. His eyes flicked to me for a brief moment before quickly looking away. He’d been distant ever since the invite had been extended, and it wasn’t hard to guess why.

Lando caught the tension and quickly ushered everyone toward the house. “Let’s get inside and warm up. I’ll give you the grand tour.”

Inside, the estate was as cozy as I had imagined—stone walls, exposed wooden beams, and a massive fireplace crackling in the living room. The smell of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, and a stack of blankets was already piled on the sofa.

As Lando launched into a detailed history of his family’s estate, I couldn’t help but notice Alex keeping his distance. He hovered near the back of the group, his arms crossed, his eyes scanning the room but never settling on me.

The awkwardness between us was palpable, but I decided to give him space. Franco, ever the entertainer, kept the mood light with his exaggerated reactions to Lando’s stories.

By the time dinner rolled around, everyone had settled into their respective corners of the house. Franco had claimed the spot by the fireplace, Oscar was engrossed in a book, and Lando was in the kitchen preparing snacks. I wandered outside for some fresh air, finding myself on a stone patio overlooking the garden. The quiet was comforting, a stark contrast to the chaos of the paddock.

“You okay?” Franco’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, his easy smile reassuring.

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just... taking it all in.”

He nodded knowingly. “It’s a lot, huh? Don’t let Alex get to you, by the way. He’s just cautious.”

“I get it,” I replied. “I just wish people would take the time to know me instead of believing everything they hear.”

“They will,” Franco said confidently. “Starting with us.”

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast, Lando proposed a hike to “explore the vast wilderness.”

“It’s a three-mile loop,” he explained, tying his boots. “Should take us a couple of hours if we don’t stop too much. Franco, try not to sprint ahead this time.”

Franco smirked, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “No promises.”

As the group set off, the crisp autumn air filled my lungs, and the sound of rustling leaves accompanied every step. Lando and Franco led the way, their laughter echoing through the trees as they debated the fastest route. Oscar stayed in the middle, occasionally chiming in, while I found myself at the back—again, next to Alex.

“Some view, huh?” I said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” Alex replied shortly, not meeting my gaze.

Deciding to keep things light, I continued, “I think Lando’s underestimating how bad Franco’s sense of direction is. We might end up doing double the distance.”

That earned a faint chuckle from Alex. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Encouraged, I pressed on. “Have you been on many of these trips with him?”

“A few,” he admitted. “Lando loves this kind of thing—getting everyone together, playing host.”

“And you?”

Alex hesitated, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. “I prefer to keep things simple.”

The trail eventually led to a small clearing at the top of a hill, offering a panoramic view of the countryside. Lando and Franco were already there, Franco snapping pictures while Lando struck ridiculous poses.

“Finally!” Franco called out as Alex and I arrived. “Took you long enough.”

“We weren’t the ones who got lost halfway up,” I shot back, earning a laugh from Oscar.

As everyone took a moment to catch their breath, Alex wandered to the edge of the clearing, his hands in his pockets. I hesitated before approaching, the silence between us growing heavier.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I said softly, standing beside Alex.

He nodded but didn’t respond.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to address the elephant in the room. “Look, Alex... I know you’ve probably heard a lot about me, and I can’t control what people say. But I’d appreciate it if you gave me a chance to prove who I really am.”

Alex’s jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It’s not just the rumors. It’s... hard to trust people in this sport. Everyone’s looking out for themselves.”

“I get that,” I said, my tone as earnest as I could be. “But trust has to start somewhere, right?”

For a moment, Alex didn’t say anything. Then, finally, he looked at me, his expression softening. “Maybe.”

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

That evening, the group gathered in the living room for game night. Lando had pulled out a stack of board games and a console, insisting on a Mario Kart tournament.

“I’m warning you now,” Lando said, wagging a finger, “I’m undefeated on this track.”

“You’ve met your match,” I replied with a grin, grabbing a controller.

The games were chaotic and loud, with Franco yelling at the screen every time he crashed and Oscar quietly dominating round after round. Alex was surprisingly competitive, his focus laser-sharp as he maneuvered through the tracks.

When Alex and I were paired up for a doubles match, I couldn’t help but notice how the tension between us had eased. He even laughed when I accidentally sent a blue shell his way, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

By the end of the night, the room was filled with laughter and empty snack bags. As everyone started to drift off to bed, Alex lingered for a moment, his gaze meeting mine.

“You’re not bad at this,” he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“High praise from the great Alex Albon,” I teased, earning a quiet chuckle.

“Goodnight,” he said softly before heading upstairs.

“Goodnight,” I replied, feeling a small sense of accomplishment.

The next morning, I woke early and found Alex sitting on the patio, a steaming mug of coffee in his hands.

“Mind if I join?” I asked, holding up my own mug.

He gestured to the chair beside him. “Go ahead.”

The two of us sat in silence for a while, watching the sun rise over the hills. Finally, Alex spoke.

“You’re different from what I expected,” he admitted, his tone thoughtful.

“Is that a good thing?” I asked with a small smile.

He nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

The conversation that followed was easy, flowing naturally as Alex asked about my journey into racing and the challenges I’d faced. For the first time, he seemed genuinely interested, his walls starting to come down.

By the time the others woke up, I felt like I’d made real progress. And as Lando teased Alex about his newfound friendliness, I couldn’t help but smile.

For the first time, it felt like maybe, just maybe, Alex was starting to see me for who I truly was.

After breakfast, I found myself lounging on the couch, the warmth of the fireplace making it almost too comfortable to move. But an idea had been brewing in the back of my mind since the night before. I turned to the group, a sly smile creeping onto my face.

“You know what this place needs?” I asked.

“What’s that?” Lando replied, lounging dramatically in an armchair like he owned the place (which, technically, he did).

“Cookies,” I said simply.

Franco perked up immediately. “You mean the fresh, warm, melt-in-your-mouth kind?”

“The only kind,” I confirmed. “But we’re going to make them ourselves.”

“Uh-oh,” Lando said with mock concern. “Do we trust you in a kitchen?”

I shot him a playful glare. “I can bake, thank you very much. But it’s a team effort.”

Alex, sitting in the corner with a book, raised an eyebrow. “You really think we’re capable of that kind of coordination?”

“That’s half the fun,” I replied, already grabbing my jacket. “But first, we need supplies. Who’s coming with me to the store?”

The trip to the local store was far from calm. Lando insisted on driving, which was a mistake given his tendency to take every turn like it was a hairpin on a race track. Franco and I were crammed into the backseat, laughing as Oscar tried to argue with Lando about his “questionable” navigation skills.

The store itself was no better. Franco and Lando raced down the aisles with shopping baskets, grabbing random ingredients that definitely weren’t on my list.

“Why do we need gummy worms for cookies?” I asked, holding up the package Lando had thrown in.

“They’re for me,” he said with a grin, tossing another bag into the basket.

Alex, who had been surprisingly quiet, handed me a small bag of chocolate chips. “These are the good ones,” he said, his tone oddly serious.

“Noted,” I replied, smiling. “Thank you, cookie connoisseur.”

By the time we left, we had enough supplies to bake cookies for an army—or maybe just for Franco, given his appetite.

Back at the house, we divided into makeshift teams: Franco and Lando were on “mixing duty,” Alex and I handled measurements, and Oscar claimed the role of “quality control,” which mostly involved sneaking chocolate chips when he thought no one was looking.

“Why is this so sticky?” Franco asked, holding up a spatula covered in dough.

“Because you’re not mixing it right,” Lando replied, trying to wrestle the bowl from him.

“You’re not mixing it right!” Franco shot back, prompting an all-out tug-of-war over the bowl.

“Guys!” I intervened, laughing. “Just stir it gently. It’s cookie dough, not cement.”

Alex smirked from across the counter. “They’re hopeless.”

“And you’re not helping,” I teased, nudging him with my elbow. He shook his head, but I caught the faint smile on his face.

After what felt like an eternity—and a small flour fight initiated by Franco—we finally managed to get the dough onto baking sheets and into the oven.

As the cookies baked, the smell of chocolate and vanilla filled the kitchen. Lando set a timer and then plopped onto the couch, visibly exhausted from the “hard labor.”

“This better be worth it,” he said dramatically.

“Oh, it will be,” I assured him.

When the timer dinged, everyone crowded around as I carefully pulled the trays from the oven. The cookies were golden brown, the chocolate chips glistening.

“Moment of truth,” Franco announced, grabbing one before they’d even had a chance to cool. “Hot! Hot!” he yelped, tossing it between his hands.

“Patience, Franco,” Alex said, shaking his head.

But once the cookies had cooled enough to eat, the chaos turned to quiet as everyone took their first bite.

“These are... amazing,” Oscar said, his eyes wide.

“I told you,” I replied smugly.

Even Alex looked impressed. “Not bad,” he said, his voice light.

“High praise from the great Alex Albon,” I teased, earning a chuckle and a slap to the arm.

With the cookies devoured and the kitchen a mess, we all collapsed in the living room, full and content. Lando had a plate of extras balanced on his lap, and Franco was already eyeing them.

“This,” Franco declared, “needs to be a tradition.”

“I’m not cleaning next time,” Oscar said firmly, though his smile betrayed him.

Alex, sitting on the armrest of the couch, glanced at me. “You were right,” he said softly. “This was fun.”

“See? Told you baking isn’t so bad,” I replied.

For the rest of the evening, the house was filled with laughter, the smell of cookies lingering in the air. And as I looked around at my friends, I couldn’t help but feel grateful. These moments—messy, imperfect, and full of heart—were what made everything worth it.

[yourneedylilpup]

i need to be raped in the woods sooooooo bad rn

on a regular little hike in the woods near my house when i stumble on you waiting on the trail infront of me.

i’m a little put off but don’t think anything of it till i’m walking past you and your hand shoots out to grab me by the hair letting me scream and fight as much as i can since there no one around to hear me

drag me off the trail while im crying and begging and scared of getting lost and throw me onto a fallen tree or a big rock so my ass is perfectly presented for you

rip my pants off, pocket my panties as a trophy and rape me the way i deserve telling me how my screams make you harder, how obviously i wanted this, how victims don’t get this wet when they’re raped

make me cum and tell me only fleashlights and whores who wanted this cum not innocent victims

punish me for being such a slut infront of you tell me how i made you do this, how you’re gonna cum inside me and if i don’t tighten up when you do you’ll shove a pinecone in my cunt like the trash hole it is

when you’re finally done with me and i’m left a crying, bruised, lost mess too fucked out to find my way back eyes begging you for help, tell me that if i stay right here you’ll come back for me and take me home, then just leave me there

( maybe you’ll come back tomorrow or in a couple days and if i’m still there like a good girl you really will take me home with you, you have been wanting a new pet)

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hiking Trip (2) | Yandere Diasomnia

First Chapter

Not long into your night your time with Lilia ended as the tent you were in went up in flames

Cuddling into Lilia’s side for the rest of the night 

by sunrise your tent is no more and everyone was waking up to your unfortunate circumstance

“That’s awful. If you like my sleeping bag is large enough for two, (Y/n). It can be hard for someone not as familiar to sleep in the open.”

“Thanks Silver.”

You help the others pack up and begin on the trail once again

The question of the tent is playing on your mind as a coincidence or…something planned

Sebek made his dislike of you quite clear 

but you didn’t think he’d take it that far

He also seemed to have calmed down staying near Lilia and looking away everytime you two made eye-contact

You brush it off instead attempting talk with Malleus 

“So you’d like to speak with me? How brave. I see why Lilia chose you.”

Despite his weird Chunibyou complex that came up every now and then he was interesting to talk to

Offering his incite when it came to architecture and the like 

He was fun to talk to 

“(Y/n) how do you think of Lilia as a partner? Does he satisfy you?”

“That’s a little–”

“You do not have to answer, your hesitance speaks volumes.”

He seems to have the wrong impression on your relationship with Lilia

Often using this to segue into the various resources and riches his birth family had access to 

Somehow he didn’t make it sound like he was bragging 

but rather trying to sell you something

“I would like to offer my tent and sleeping bag for your convenience. It might be better to make Silver and his father sleep in the same bag. After all I’m sure it’s something they’re familiar with.”

“That’s quite the assumption but I remember hearing from you that you wanted to bond with Father.”

“You might have misheard.”

“Did I?”

“I–am not opposed to providing you shelter.”

“Really Sebek? Looking to make friends with my future fiance?”

The green haired boy was blushing and turning away as he loudly babbled something about getting wood

For the second night you let Malleus take your time with him, saying his only job was making sure Lilia did no such thing as cook

Apparently Sebek would have normally done this, 

shooing Malleus away with a ‘MASTER MALLEUS IS MUCH BETTER THAN COOKING WITH HIS OWN PRECIOUS HANDS.’

But for whatever reason when Malleus mentioned him and you looked his way he rean away to grab more wood

Silver who looked as though he wanted to join rolled his eyes as he pretended to need Lilia’s help with setting up the camp

“You owe me Malleus…Father! Will you show me your expertise in preparing the campsite?”

“I thought I taught you this? Oh well I’ll teach you again! Listen closely whippersnapper.”

With him looking nowhere near the fire you and Malleus could organize the dinner they would be having 

“I’m glad I brought some spices of my own. Here want a try?”

“That is spectacular! Not only are you good company but you are an excellent cook as well.”

“Well thank you!” 

“I only speak the truth. Perhaps I feel regret for not meeting you first.”

You don’t know what to say to this…

Only brushing it off as he invites you on a stroll

Magically surrounded by fireflies he looks ethereal when he asks for your arm

You give it to him

It’s only his heritage which is why he’s so polite 

Which is why he’s so much like a prince charming

Complimenting you and seeking you out 

even as your eyelids grow heavy and yawing more frequent

“Like I said before I believe you will find the best rest in my tent. It is much bigger than the others.”

“Don’t be fooled (Y/n) he sleeps like a wild man. He’ll likely crush you before you can get to sleep.”

“I OFFER MY TENT, IF ONLY TO RELIEVE MASTER MALLEUS OF HIS SPACE HE’S SO GRACIOUS TO GIVE UP.”

“Oi oi you all seem to forget who’s partner they are!”

Hushing them all Lilia encourages them all to retreat to their tents 

Grabbing your hand as he leads away from the campsite

“I’ve been waiting this whole trip to have you to myself.”

“Have you? I was worried you’d forgotten I came at all.”

“Please you’re the highlight of everyone’s trip so far.”

Letting him draw you close under the stars, you trust in your boyfriend to take care of you 

Ending the night with you leaning on his chest, you let your eyes rest as you cuddle into him

Lilia looked happily down at your resting face 

Not needing to look up at the woods behind to know who was watching him

“You can look on as much as you like. In the end it’s me they’ll always return to.”

Something about the way he said that made the one watching that much more determined to defeat him

[reformhim]

Hey I had an Idea for a transformation story.

This guy Danny, around 30sth, average guy, small belly, not much body hair, is dragged along at a workshop called: "Meet your spirit animal".

and here I have different ideas:

he meets his spirital animal and it is cool and strong like a bear.

Or it is wierd like Bull.and he doesn't like it

But either way he dreams of this animal each night. And soly gets human features according to the animal.

He doesn't turn into the anmal, but gets stronger and hairier and even grows a little. He also gets a lot more confidence.

So I want it to improve Dannys life and makes him more who he really is inside.

Ah and maybe he is more a fan of nature and he finds himself a hadsome ranger boyfriend in the woods.

i hope you like my idea.but do how long you want.

Thanks

Hey there! Thank you for your request. It's an awesome one. Below is something I've come up with. Please let me know what you think!

"Awakening the Bear"

Danny had never been the outdoorsy type. He preferred coffee shops over campsites, city streets over winding trails. So when his friend dragged him to a weekend workshop in the mountains titled “Meet Your Spirit Animal,” he groaned the whole drive up, clutching his hoodie tighter around his small belly and tugging self-consciously at the sleeves to hide his pale, mostly hairless arms.

The first night, they gathered in a circle around a crackling bonfire, the scent of pine and smoke thick in the air. The guide—a deep-voiced man with a thick beard and arms like tree trunks—asked everyone to close their eyes and breathe deeply. Danny rolled his eyes at first, but something about the cool mountain air and the flicker of the fire drew him in. His thoughts slowed. His body stilled.

And then… he saw it.

A massive bear. Towering. Gentle. Proud. Its eyes met his, unblinking. Danny gasped and fell backward out of the trance, heart pounding. He told no one.

That night, Danny dreamed of the bear. He stood in a clearing, shirtless, barefoot, staring into the beast’s dark eyes. It didn’t growl or charge. It just breathed—deep, steady breaths that Danny somehow mimicked. He woke up sweaty, confused… and hungry. Ravenous, actually.

The next morning, Danny noticed something strange. His chest itched. He lifted his shirt and blinked. A thin scattering of coarse hair stretched across his pecs. He blinked again. Pec muscle? No, that had to be a trick of the light.

Each night, the dreams came back. The bear was closer now, brushing up against him, huffing warm air across his skin. And each morning, Danny found himself… different. A little taller. A little broader. His limbs thickened. His torso hardened. His once smooth chest now bore a soft pelt of hair. Even his voice dropped a note or two. He filled out his clothes in ways he hadn’t before.

By the time the workshop ended, Danny had outgrown his hoodie. His jaw was heavier, squarer. He walked with a newfound steadiness. Even his appetite had changed—he craved red meat and long hikes. Nature spoke to him differently now. He began spending more weekends in the woods, just walking, listening, existing.

And that’s when he met Joel.

A park ranger with a wide smile and a scruffy beard, Joel had caught Danny humming to himself while sketching a tree near the trailhead. Their first conversation stretched for hours, leaning against the hood of Joel’s truck, laughing about bug spray and bear sightings.

Joel said he could tell Danny had a wild soul, something most people hid from.

Danny just smiled. “It’s waking up, I think.”

Months later, Danny lived in a cabin near the edge of the woods. He cooked over fire, wore flannel without irony, and had a bear tattoo inked on his upper arm. He never quite became the bear—but he didn’t need to. The spirit lived in him now, in his thicker arms, the hair down his belly, the quiet strength in his stance. And every night, Joel curled up beside him under wool blankets and pine-scented air, and whispered, “My wild man.”

Danny finally knew who he was.

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Follow Me

Request: Can you do something like Vault 4 in the show but with Coop and the reader and how they'd react to friendly faces (or what seem like friendly faces?) A/N: This prompt GOT ME GOOD. I started out with Vault 4, scrapped that, and somehow ended with hippie Ghouls singing Uncle Kracker songs that we're pretending are original because they definitely didn't exist in the pre-war Fallout universe a totally realistic Fallout story that involves hippies and the ocean Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language Summary: You can't help but be suspicious of everyone you meet in the Wasteland, but a group of friendly, musically-inclined Ghouls just might be the exception.

Word Count: 1.9k+

(Gif Credit to @オレは強い)

“You get the caps?” 

Cooper tosses a bag tied with twine your way in response. It’s heavy, the sound of bottle caps clinking in a soft reassurance that you can afford to rest your aching body for more than just a couple nights.

“There isn’t anything in these damn dunes but sand and rocks.” You kick at the ground, “Might as well start pedaling back east.”

There’s a moment of hesitation before Cooper answers. 

“Not this late. We’ll go west. Follow the coastline.”

You sigh in defeat, resigning yourself to the fate of slogging through thousands of tons of sand. 

“Problem, sweetcheeks?”

A scowl curls your lip at Cooper’s sarcastic jab. He’s already walking west into the orange halo of a setting sun. 

“Just don’t want to hike back through more miles of dunes if we don’t have to.” You mutter and follow behind him. 

If he was going to be a prick, you were at least going to use his already-irradiated body as a sun shield. 

After a substantial payout on your most recent bounty, Cooper and yourself were both ready for a break. It had been a long few months of job after job and patience was wearing thin. You’re both getting more snappy with each other as the days slip by; Cooper is more dependent on his Vials after exerting himself, and you’re plain exhausted. Sunburned, sweaty and dry all the same. It is a volatile mix of attitude and flaring tempers, both of which you and Cooper possess a staggering amount of.

The drop location for the bounty had been far west in the sand dunes, nearing the coastline. Cooper had made the drop while you sought out shelter for the night. Sought being the key word, as you’ve been hiking through sand for hours with nothing to show for it. You met back up with Cooper at the crest of a dune, where he’s huffing down a Vial and pacing like a caged animal. 

And now, you’re back on the move. 

You trail in his shadow even when the sun sinks below the sand and a full moon rises. You’re comforted by the absence of heat and creeping relief of dusk as it soothes away the day’s burns, but desperate for a reprieve from the elements. It takes you a few moments shuffling through your pack while walking to find the salve you’d mixed up months ago and slather what remains of it on your roasted cheeks. Trying to put the lid back on and not fall flat on your face is a chore, made more difficult by Cooper’s sudden stopping in front of you. 

“Damn, a little warning would be…” You trail off, looking ahead. “Nice.”

It had been years since you’d seen the ocean, and its grandeur isn’t lost on you. Waves lap at the thirsty shoreline, breaking up the moon’s silvery reflection. For miles and miles, as far as the eye can see, water dances and shifts until it mixes into a twilight sky on the horizon.

A childish bout of excitement washes over you as you observe. Only one more hill of sand separates you from the water. Cooper sighs as you weave around him and hustle towards it. 

“Don’t you get in that water, woman.” He barks, “I ain’t fishin’ you out.”

You ignore him and hike up the next dune. Forever seems to pass as you climb upwards and you curse the sand once more. You’re almost to the top, ready to make a mad dash to the water when a voice stops you. 

“Hello!” A surprisingly happy voice catches you off guard, coming from your left, “Welcome, friends!” 

Cooper is immediately on guard, pulling his pistol. The Ghoul persona steps up to bat, his face all hard edges and glaring eyes. Despite the arguing and bickering you’ve been putting each other through, his protective streak drops over you like a shield. Now at your side, he nudges a shoulder in front of you.

Ghouls can take bullets a lot easier than a human, after all.  

In the direction the voice came from, you take stock of not one but several figures in a circular camp. They’re grouped around an old cable spool that’s topped with bottles of various liquor and drinks, and they move to the twang of what you think is an old guitar. A small fire crackles next to the table. The guitar chords reach your ears in slow waves, an inviting tune that makes you want you go down and dance with them 

The figure who’d called out is closer, hands held up in a placating manner. You’re surprised to note the familiar lack of a nose and wrinkled skin that labels him a Ghoul. He’s apparently younger than Cooper - as most Ghouls are- with skin a little less warped and blonde hair that still seems to grow rather wall from his scarred scalp.

“Woah there, brother. Take it easy.” 

Cooper doesn’t relent. “We ain’t here to make friends. Just passin’ through.”

There’s something about this stranger that’s genuine. That’s not to say you haven’t met real, genuine people in the Wasteland, but kindness is something found few and far between these days. You've met a few Ghouls outside of Cooper, most of which are inherently more friendly due their outcasting from a lot of the major settlements. They’re usually chatty, comforted by the sight of a smooth-skin traveling and being in close quarters with another of their own kind.

Your Ghoul, though, is less willing to accept friendship on the fly. 

“It’s not about the destination, folks. It’s about the journey.” He pauses, “And the people you meet.”

You blink at him and turn to Cooper, who snorts. “Well ain’t that sweet.”

“Listen brother, I know life is rough out there but I swear- we’re just here to enjoy what we can.” He motions over to the camp, where another male Ghoul is picking the guitar and laughing with the others.There’s no weapons lying about, and a clear line of sight in every direction.

A smile pulls at your lips, and you place one hand on Cooper’s forearm. The music is washing away any sort of hesitation you had, reinforcing the desire for rest. 

“Sorry, my partner here is a little paranoid. We wouldn’t mind stopping.” 

It takes a few moments of convincing (half of them being threats of physical violence) for Cooper to stand down. You’re fairly certain he knows these Ghouls are harmless, but can’t escape the suffocating paranoia that comes along with two hundred years of Wastelanding.

Shortly thereafter, you're introduced to the ragtag group, sharing only your first names and settling your things against the side of an overturned car that only has half of the roof sticking up from the sand. Kevin, Phil, Desiree, Cody and Mallorie regale you with their stories, about leaving the major settlements for a life on the road and somehow being happy and relatively unscathed by Wasteland violence. 

Through it all, Cooper is predictably standoffish, amber eyes shooting daggers into anyone that gets too close.

Which, with this group, is everyone. 

They aren’t just friendly, but physical, rubbing your shoulders and patting you on the back. One of the female Ghouls braids your hair while Cooper sits stock still across the firepit. They attempt to make conversation with him, most of which ends with no response. You scowl at his rudeness each time, and nudge his shoulder to prompt one word responses once you’re returned to his side of the fire. 

“So, where are you folks headed?” The female Ghoul who’d braided your hair inquires. 

Cooper is quiet beside you, cigarette dangling from between his lips. 

“Not sure.” You answer, glancing to your side to look at the ocean. “We kind of just... Move. Wherever we can find work, we go.”

“A shame that we’re still slaves to money after being nuked.” Phil, who’s been strumming on the guitar since you joined, speaks up. “You’d think everyone could just be peaceful now.”

And that statement actually gets a reaction from Cooper. It’s a snort, but a reaction nonetheless.

“Ain’t nobody peaceful out here.” Cooper stubs his cigarette out on the rotted metal of the car, “Everybody wants somethin’. Money, drugs, power.”

“Guns.” You add, lighting your own cigarette. 

“Not us.” Desiree, the very same that braided your hair, looks around the group, “We left all of that. All we want is peace.”

While it was a nice thought, you’d seen too much to ever believe it was true. The Wasteland truly metamorphosizes people, and not always in a good way. There’s always someone clamoring to be the newest leader, the brightest glow of hope for the world. 

“True that, sister.” Phil lifts his drink and the group follows, toasting to her words. “And to our new friends, I hope you can find peace someday.”

You smile in spite of your own thoughts, raising the cigarette in your hand in a lazy nod to their previous toast. The group cheers once again and lifts their drinks towards the sky. You bump playfully into Cooper’s shoulder, and your Ghoul stares at you from under the brim of his dirty hat. His eyes are narrowed and you know deep down he’ll never be able to escape the grip the Wasteland has on his heart, but that doesn’t mean you won’t try your damndest to get a smile out of him. 

“I got something the cowboy will like.” Phil pats his guitar as if it’s a shiny new car, “I dabble in the country genre.”

Cooper tilts his head back and steals the cigarette from between your fingers. “This oughta be good. You gonna regale us with some Johnny Cash this evenin’?”

Kevin pipes up then, smoothing out his blonde locks. “No Johnny Cash here, man. Phil’s got some original stuff. We call it ‘new age’ country.”

“Well, I’ll be.” Cooper finishes your cigarette, and starts working on lighting a second to make up for it. “Let’s hear it.”

The sarcasm drips heavy from his voice, and you resist the ever-so-common urge to slap him for his rudeness. You’re plucking the newly-lit cigarette from scarred fingers when Phil starts strumming the guitar again, now in a slow beat that immediately makes you think of the ocean swirling behind you. It’s a melody far different than that of the Wasteland radio stations, something new and creative that sends an excited tingle up your spine. You nod your head with each note, nudging the Ghoul beside you. He takes a long swig of whiskey, watching your swaying out of the corner of his eye. 

“You don't know how you met me, you don't know why

You can't turn around and say goodbye.”

Happy to have something cheery  in the sprawling hellscape you’re forced to live in, your smile cracks wider. Cooper is watching Phil now too, one hand resting on his thigh and the other loosely gripping his whiskey. 

“Follow me, everything is alright. 

I’ll be the one to tuck you in at night. 

And if you want to leave, I can guarantee

You won't find nobody else like me.”

Warmth washes over you at the lyrics and you lean into Cooper’s side. He shifts around to make it comfortable for you, and the fingers of that arm find your hip. Phil keeps crooning into the night, lulling your eyes shut as your cigarette turns to ash. Your eyes flutter when Cooper takes another swig of liquor, sweeping over the group. Everyone’s swaying to the tune, singing along and dancing. It’s not until you move to settle back down that movement catches your eye and a shit-eating grin spreads across your face. 

Cooper’s boot just so happens to be tapping along with the beat.

thanks for reading, much love ❤

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

[bugdotpng]

inspired by this delightful post, i thought i'd make a little jokey newsletter. perhaps i'll keep this up. perhaps i won't. but i had fun writing this regardless lol. transcript under the cut!

Bug's Bitchin Newsletter

A bi-weekly newsletter detailing a local bug’s riveting highlights. Released every other Monday, interesting activities permitting.

Vol. 01 • Issue 01 -------- June 9, 2025

Bug Let Loose on Nature Trail, Doesn’t Get Lost

In a shocking turn of events on Saturday, Anonymous Bug, 30, took to a local nature trail to let off some steam and somehow managed to not get lost. “I’m as shocked as everyone else,” stated Bug. “I think the only reason I didn’t get lost was because my best friend was with me, and even then, I have a remarkable, unearned confidence that often leads me and others down the wrong path. That’s not a metaphor. I’m being literal.” In previous nature trail endeavors, Bug found themself disoriented and unable to find their way back, turning what they intended to be a mile-long hike into nearly four miles. They didn’t even take water with them. “I’m not smart,” admitted Bug. Now that they know the the correct path to take, Bug is looking forward to future nature hikes where they can take pictures of local flora without fear of getting lost and dying from heat stroke.

Local Bug Rediscovers Concept of Eggs, Makes Some For The Week

Anonymous Bug, a 30-year-old resident of a satellite city outside of the DFW metroplex, had their world rocked when their mother reminded them of the existence of eggs. “I’ve always loved eggs,” said Bug, “So much, in fact, that my personality centered around eggs for quite a while. I don’t know how I forgot about them.” While placing their grocery order for curbside pickup Sunday morning, Bug came across a grocery item called “Hill Country Fare Grade A Large White Eggs, 12 ct” and remembered their conversation with their mother. They promptly added it to their cart. “I love eggs because you can make them so many different ways. They’re a great breakfast food.” And that’s exactly what Bug intended to use them for. Once they picked up their grocery order, they went home and made medium-boiled eggs on their stove. “I cooked all twelve at once, and I definitely could have eaten them all in one sitting, but that wasn’t why I did that. I made them so I can have them for breakfast throughout the week! Has anybody heard of this?”

New Hobby Added to Local Bug’s Roster

After coming across an amusing and endearing post on the failing microblogging platform tumblr.com, Anonymous Bug, 30, decided to try something new and write a personal newsletter. “Sorry, this one’s a little meta,” Bug apologized. Sometimes, the local ADHD hobby-collector feels the urge the write, but is generally uninspired. “I have plenty of writing projects I’ve started and have yet to finish. I have to wait until a near-manic wave of energy hits me, then I stay up writing until 3am. Otherwise, I stare at the same paragraph for hours. What better source of inspiration than talking about myself?” The yapping-prone microblogger is often plagued by a compulsion to declare every mundane thought that passes through their thick skull. “I’ve been on tumblr since I was 16, but I was publicly sharing my internal thoughts well before then. It’s called having no impulse control.” Bug remarked that a bi-weekly faux newsletter was a good way to compile and display their mundane thoughts, while also finding ways to appreciate the simple, day-to-day happenings. “I can be a bit of a curmudgeon, so it’s a nice change of pace to spend time appreciating the mundane.”

Featured Photo Spotlight

[ image description: a low-res, low-quality black and white image of a mushroom ]

“yippee i found a Mushed Room :^)” taken by Anonymous Bug on their Canon EOS 6d during their nature walk