#beach boyd

[whosagodnow]

[toxicanonymity]

beach walks - prequel.

3.8k surf instructor!Billy x f!reader, night walks AU

WARNINGS: I8+, situationship angst over Joel, infidelity adjacent, forced proximity, smut (mild dubcon?), in public, voyeurism, jealousy. See Billy in action (sex): hot ❤️‍🔥 gif set by @ilovewhiteroses or this video. Skeleton Twins (2014) Feel free to skip this fic if it bothers you.

✨NEXT FIC: Beach Walks

After your late night “swim,” you’re disappointed when Joel doesn’t try to get you into his basement. But he does kiss you goodnight before you walk home. You almost text him and invite him over, but something holds you back. You don't want to mess up the dynamic and scare him away. Maybe he’ll let himself in and get in bed with you. It takes you a while to get to sleep as you realize something has shifted. You're now craving more than his dick and his way with words. You’d be happy to fall asleep in his arms, with or without the morning wood to look forward to.

After this realization, you start overanalyzing things, debating whether and when to text him, reading into how often he texts you and what he says. After a few days of nothing but a dick pic, it feels like it's been weeks. And yet, this was normal before. One night, you break down and send him a pic of a freshly rolled joint with the text, “wanna join?” 

He replies “wish I could, gotta be somewhere early 😫.” 

After that, he seems to text you less and less. He doesn't initiate and barely texts back. You wonder if he’s bored without the chase, so you try to play it cool. You go for walks by yourself, in case he’ll come out and join you, but weeks go by, and he never does. Some nights you hear the weights clanging in his basement, so he must be fine.  

-

One day, you're outside, locking the basement side door, when an unfamiliar Mercedes Benz SUV pulls out of Joel's cul-de-sac. There's a speed bump just before your house, so it has to slow down, and you can  clearly see a woman is driving, and Joel is in the passenger seat. Your stomach drops. He looks more put together, like he spruced himself up for her. She’s pretty. Somewhere between your age and his. 

The keys are shaking in your hand as you unlock the door again. You go back inside with your heart racing. Don't text him again, you tell yourself. Don't do it. But after an hour, you do. You ask what he's up to, and he doesn't answer. He doesn't answer all day, and when he finally answers that evening, he acts totally casual, like nothing is up. Small talk. He doesn’t invite you over. Not so much as a dick pic. You leave your door unlocked and cry yourself to sleep. You judge yourself for caring so much. 

You keep leaving your door unlocked at night, but he doesn't come. Then, one day, he drives by in the same SUV, with the same woman, and you're not sure you've ever seen him so happy. You’re lightheaded. It's a harsh reality check. You’ve never been exclusive, never had a talk. He'd never even taken you on a date. When you think about that, it makes you sick. Is his wife still in the picture? You decide not to text him again. 

You’ve been invited on a beach trip that starts the next day, but you don’t go. You don't have the energy to pack, and part of you is still hoping Joel will just show up at your door one day. But the next few nights, when you walk by his house, all the lights are off. At first, you drive yourself crazy thinking about where he could be, but does it really matter? Your anxiety starts to fade into sadness.

You’ve got to get your mind off it, so you drive solo to catch up with your friends at the beach. 

******

The resort is humble but sprawling. There are kayaks and surf lessons. You're tempted by the kayaks, but on the first day, you just relax on the beach. As soon as you lay out your towel, your friends tell you about the hot surf instructor. Then, later that day, they swear he's checking you out. You catch a glimpse from behind first, and he has a nice back. 

You see the surf instructor at breakfast the next morning, and he smiles at you. It’s a devastating smile that erases all your thoughts for a second. You can’t even look right at him. You look behind yourself, and it couldn't be anyone else he was looking at. He laughs silently, then gets in line next to you. He looks at the eggs on your plate. 

You’re not expecting his Australian accent. “Sunny side up. . .good to know.” It takes you a second, then your chest flutters when it hits you. “Enjoy,” he adds with a wink, then walks away. He moves like he has no worries and nowhere to be.

When you tell your friends, they lose their minds. All day they’re talking about what you could do, and speculating about his dick, and whether he’s that chill in the bedroom, too. They think he’s probably a freak. A few hours later, you realize you’ve barely thought about Joel all day, for the first time in weeks, and it feels good. You begin to think maybe a vacation fling could help you move on. Assuming that’s what you’re supposed to do.

Later that day, you're in the lobby waiting for a friend when the surf instructor comes in from the beach. You play it cool, but he sees you, stops, and takes off his shades. He approaches, and you get your first really good look at him up close. He's tall, tan, and shredded, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. He’s got small ear gauges, and a tattoo of something with tentacles winding up his neck. He's chewing gum. 

A mischievous sparkle plays on his eyes as he spreads his feet and crosses his arms. "Saw ya layin’ out, nice ‘n’ dry. . .thought I should let ya know, the real fun’s in the water." 

“Oh yeah?”

He nods. "Love to get ya on a board, if ya don't surf already." 

You laugh. "No, I don't."

He checks you out, then asks, “How ‘bout it?” and waits patiently for your yes. 

"Maybe," you crack a smile. 

"No charge. . .Name's Billy." He extends his hand. As you shake hands, he leans in closer, lowers his voice, and says, "’Lot funner gettin’ wet." As he steps away, he offers, "Come down around five, yeah?" Your tummy is swarming with butterflies as he walks off, and it must be evident. Your friend immediately assumes he asked you out.

—

You go down to the shore at five to meet Billy. Storm clouds are rolling in. Billy is looking at the sky and idly spinning a whistle on a string. He has two boards laid out. As you approach, he looks at his watch. “Punctual, aren't ya?” 

First, he teaches you how to hop up on the board, something you weren’t even sure you could do. Then he demonstrates the right stance, and you can't help but notice the way his thigh muscles swell out from his swim trunks. The teal swim trunks are a little on the shorter side, which is only emphasized by the black, long-sleeve rash guard he’s wearing. Your gaze is dangerously close to his crotch when you pull your eyes back up to his face. 

He looks at your stance, and asks, “Mind if I touch ya?”

“Please,” you answer without thinking.

He clucks his tongue and shakes his head playfully. “Knew ya were a bad girl.” 

“I mean,” your face heats up with a smile, and he raises his eyebrows. “I mean I need all the help I can get.”  He indulges you with a contemplative nod. 

“Sure, love.” He comes around to stand next to you. Thunder begins to rumble, and he glances at the sky. 

He crouches down, and one foot at a time, you let him adjust your position on the board. As he begins to stand, he looks up at you and his hand skims up the back of your calf, breaking away at the knee.

He steps a little closer and gently presses on the small of your back. “There ya go.” Then he gets behind you and leans forward, curving his body with yours. He puts his hands on your hips and pulls them back. He’s so close you can feel his body heat. His hands slide up your sides, hitching briefly on the bottom string of your swim top. Then he slots his hands under your arms and adjusts your posture. “Good girl,” he murmurs, then there's a loud boom of thunder. Rain begins to dot the sand before you feel it on your skin. “It’ll blow over,” he reassures you.

-

To wait out the storm, Billy invites you into the surf shack, up past the dunes. He leaves the door open. He doesn’t turn a light on, but there are a few windows. It’s only one room. It's got surfboards, lifeguard stuff, an old TV with a DVD/VCR combo, and a loveseat. In front of the loveseat, there’s a coffee table with a bong on it. Almost as soon as he walks in, he’s taking off his long sleeves. 

“Gets muggy in here quick,” he warns as he plops down on the loveseat. He pats the space next to him, and you sit down. “Suppose we could watch a movie,” he muses and picks up two remote controls from the coffee table. He puts on Jaws at low volume so you can still listen to the storm. He offers the bong, but you decline.

He faces you, resting his head in his hand, with his elbow on the back of the loveseat. You mirror his posture, and he shamelessly checks you out, once again. 

You make small talk about the weather and the resort. With his free hand, he idly strokes his own sternum, slowly dragging his middle finger up and down between his pecs. His nipples are pierced – the bars are so subtle you couldn’t tell through his top.  

After a lull in the conversation, you adjust your position to face the tv. He stretches his arm across the back of the loveseat, and his hand is right behind your head. He begins to lightly caress the nape of your neck with his thumb. You don’t flinch or pull away. You chew your bottom lip, and your heart races. His eyes are glued to your body, and you’re barely pretending to watch the movie. 

“So,” he asks, “Could ya feel me starin’ at your arse yesterday?”

You laugh. “No.” 

“Well, I was,” he nods. “When ya were layin’ out.”

Finally you look at him, and when your eyes meet, he begins to let his fingers slowly dance on your thigh, sending a rush of desire to your loins. 

You’re suddenly nervous. You don't remember how to do this. You half heartedly begin to say, “Maybe I should. . .”

“Come a little closer?”  A loud clap of thunder shakes the whole shack. “Nowhere for us to go now, is there?”

He glances at the window where the sky has darkened and heavy rain is coating the glass. His voice drops.  “Kinda like this storm, if I’m honest,” he admits. 

“Yeah,” you quietly agree. 

His thumb separates from the back of your neck, then your halter string tightens for a moment before completely loosening. 

“Oops,” he whispers, looking at you. 

You gasp and your hand comes to your chest to hold the top up as you turn toward him again, bringing your knee up on the cushion. Your face burns and you laugh his name in mock admonishment. 

 "Got a boyfriend?” He asks. “Girlfriend?" 

"No," you shake your head. 

"Wouldn't stop me, anyway.” His hand curves lightly around your inner thigh, stroking your warm skin. His caress gets higher and higher, further toward your throbbing core. “Not if ya want it, love. What kinda feminist would I be then?” He tilts his head and slides his hand all the way up to the crotch of your swimsuit. “Nah, what she wants, she gets,” he murmurs, staring at his hand between your legs. A knuckle nudges the crotch of your swimsuit, and you’re gushing for him. One corner of his mouth twitches knowingly as he meets your eyes again. “And I think ya want it.” God, he’s hot. He’s so hot, and so right.

The hand behind you cradles your head, and his gaze falls on your lips. His blue eyes are dark with lust. He leans in, pauses with his lips about two inches from yours. You close the gap yourself, accepting the embrace of his smooth lips on yours. Soon he tilts his head, and his tongue slides into your mouth. You drop your hand from your chest, and the un-tied strings still dangling on your back precariously hold your top up. As the kiss becomes hungrier, his hand slides easily into one side of your loosened bikini. His fingers bracket your nipple as he caresses your breast then cups with a soft, “mmm,” into your mouth. You’re absolutely throbbing. 

There's a clattering outside, then an unfamiliar voice. "We've got someone out in the surf, down toward the pier."

Your eyes fly to the door, embarrassed, but the man doesn't even look at you. You quickly re-tie your swimsuit. Billy adjusts himself and replies, “Alright mate, let's hop on the jetski.” 

“It’s ready.” The man steps outside to wait. 

When Billy stands up, you see a massive protrusion in his shorts, resting against his upper thigh, and your breath hitches. You accidentally stare, and he smirks when he notices. “Yeah?” he asks with a downward glance. He holds his hand out and you give him yours as you stand up. He puts your hand on the bulge in his shorts. It’s stiff and warm and makes you ache to be filled. “All for you, love.” He drops your hand but it stays there for a split second. 

He pulls his rashguard on and adjusts his shorts, then gives you a short but heated kiss. “Find ya later.” 

—----

When the storm dies down enough, you run up the beach, arms squeezed together in front of you. You grab a towel from the hut by the pool and enter the lobby. A man has just left the vending area, and you do a double-take when you see a bag of takis in his hand, but he's already walking away.  Your heart jumps when you see he's wearing pj pants. But it couldn't possibly be Joel. Not this far from home. 

You brush it off, but for the rest of the day, you can't get Joel out of your mind, except for when you let your thoughts drift to being in that shack with Billy. It's gotten worse than you thought if you're thinking Joel is there on the island based on a bag of chips and someone dressing comfortably on vacation. 

You let yourself imagine what it would be like to let Billy fuck you. Maybe you need this. 

You're restless and don't have any privacy to get off. After dark, you go out to the pool, and quietly slip into the water, ignoring the sign that says “closed.”.

The water is about nipple-height where you are. You face the pool and rest your arms on the side, letting your legs float in front of you. You close your eyes and squeeze your thighs together thinking about what might have happened in that shack if you weren’t interrupted earlier. And just when you’re picturing what Billy looks and sounds like when he comes, you hear his voice. 

"Pool's closed, rulebreaker."

You look toward his voice, and he puts down a bag near your towel. You ask, "Gonna tell on me?"  

He takes off his rash guard and stretches, jutting his chest and pelvis forward with his hands clasped behind his back, then he walks over and dives in the deep end. He swims underwater and comes up for air a few feet from you. When he surfaces, he tousles his hair.

He slowly approaches, wetting his lips. He looks even sexier in the dark. "Where were we, love," he murmurs. His hands start at your floating feet–he spreads them apart, making room for himself between your legs. Then his hands slide all the way up your legs as he gets closer. He pulls you against him and you loosely wrap your legs around him. 

"There ya go," he murmurs, then dips his head and cradles yours. He kisses you long and hard. He pushes his hips forward, pinning you against the pool wall, and his cock stiffens against you. Then he pulls you off the wall and holds you by the ass so his arousal is firmly pressing against your tingling front. You wrap your arms around his neck as he sinks lower into the water. He kisses and sucks your neck, just above the waterline. He’s probably leaving a mark, and you don’t care. You don’t really care about anything but the mutual throbbing between your legs at the moment.

—

You feel someone watching, and when Billy goes after your neck again, you scan the balconies until you see a dark figure sitting on a second floor balcony. You look for a few seconds and can't make out anything. You scold yourself for thinking about Joel and wrap your legs tighter around Billy. His cock swells harder against your clit, and your thoughts are gone again. You moan softly as he grinds you on himself and kisses you needily, from your lips to your neck, your throat, under your chin, back to your lips. Billy pulls your top down enough to feel your nipples against his chest and lets out a sigh that makes you ache all over with need. 

The man on the balcony stands up, steps forward, and boldly leans on the railing and clasps his hands, watching. He’s still a silhouette, and you try not to look right at him. 

"There's, um. Someone watching," you tell Billy. 

"Bother ya?" Billy asks, keeping his eyes glued to you.

You adjust your swimsuit to cover your nipples, and he says, "Guess so, huh. Drink at my place then?"

"I dunno," you say reflexively. 

He whispers in your ear, “Come home with me,” then gently bites your neck and pulls you tighter against his massive erection. You quietly gasp. 

“I can't, we’re going to sunrise yoga.”

“Yours then,” he offers, undeterred and growing breathless with desire. 

“My friends are there.” 

“Mine’s just a few minutes up the beach. I'll bring ya back,” he offers, “Go to yoga with ya.” He begins to move your body against his again. God, you want that hard cock.  Just a few days ago, the thought of anyone but Joel did nothing for you, and now, here you are. 

You bite your lip and hum, “mm,” in contemplation.

"A drink at the bar," he offers, nodding toward the hotel bar. "Then my place." 

You smile and he presses a gentle, closed-mouth kiss onto your lips. You're smiling against each other’s mouths for a second, until his cock throbs against you, and he seals his lips on yours, and your tongues need each other again. He grinds you against him for a few seconds and moans into your mouth before you pull your head away, and remind him, “Drink at the bar.” 

“Alright,” he breathes. His cock twitches against you "Gimme a minute, love. . . Fuck, I can't walk in like this," he laughs.

Footsteps approach, and you pull away from Billy. The footsteps are from a man with shoulder length hair and a mustache. He's grinning, looking down. He keeps walking, and as he passes by he laughs, "hey, I didn't see nothin', man."

Billy looks up. "Tommyyy. Wanna catch a wave tomorrow?" 

"Nah, we're rollin' out in the morning."

"Alright, mate. Good seein' ya.”

The voice of the stranger has jolted you back from your horny stupor.  "I'm actually really tired," you say, facing the side of the pool. You put your forearms up on the side and rest your cheek on  your hands. 

Billy groans in disappointment, but he gets it. 

"Maybe tomorrow night," you muse. 

"I've got a set at Aqua tomorrow. You should come."

"A set?" 

"I'm a DJ. And as for tonight. . ." He gets close behind you and murmurs near your ear. "I won’t leave ya like this. What kinda gentleman would I be?" Thank God. He snakes his arm around your front. The stiff shape in his swim trunks presses against your crack. 

He cups your whole pussy, and his middle finger prods at the fabric right at your entrance. "Gonna let me in here next time, aren’t ya?" he whispers and begins to rub you over the fabric. Pleasure is building in your core. You begin to lose yourself under his expert touch. "Yeah, there we go." He slides his other hand up under one side of your top and his bare palm covers your nipple. You could cum any second with his hardness grinding against you.

He slips his hand into your swimsuit and rubs your clit as he palms your tit. Your head falls back, he kisses your neck, then you let it happen.  You gasp and try not to be too loud as your final ascent begins, with Billy slowly rutting against your backside, breathing heavily in your ear.

—----------------

Joel doesn’t have a great view, and his eyes are tired from the sun, but he keeps watching. He’s convinced himself it’s not you, that he’s just been driving himself crazy thinking of you.

Even from a distance, it’s really hot to see. It reminds Joel of your last hook-up. Desire stirs in his pants, and he’s going to have to jack off. Maybe he’ll send you a jack-off video—he can do that now. Joel palms himself as he turns to go back inside. Then, you moan loud enough that he freezes with his hand on the sliding door. He’s heard that moan too many times.

. . .Did he just watch you, in the pool with Billy, hours from home? He tries not to look back as he goes inside and closes the door behind him.

He’s not jealous. Not jealous, he tells himself. 

He has no right to be.

You don’t owe him anything, and he knows that.

He’s fine. Not freaking out.

Joel’s a chill guy, even without the weed. But his ears are hot, and his heart is pounding so hard he can hear it. He smacks the wall and yells, “FUCK,” as a picture frame falls. He tries to shake the pain off his hand. 

What are you even doing here? 

“You alright, man?” Tommy asks, muffled through the wall. 

Joel rakes both hands through his hair and takes a few deep breaths. 

“Joel?” Tommy asks and cracks open the door between their rooms. 

“Yeah,” Joel answers as he sits down on the bed. He interlaces his fingers behind his head, elbows pointing forward. “I’m just stupid.” 

------

------

thank you for reading!

[sitting-on-me-bum]

An Arctic fox finds a meal on the beach in Iceland.

Photo by Donal Boyd.

Arctic foxes at Hornstrandir aren’t afraid to make eye contact.

[thunderstruck9]

Daniel Boyd (Australian Aboriginal, 1982), Untitled (SPCFFATS), 2023. Oil, acrylic and archival glue on canvas, 170 x 250 cm.

[litrallymadlad]

the foxes from my webtoon comic LOL

[fairweathermyth]

Since I'm out of ideas, question is, who's the mark? Well... I did have a thought on that.

JUSTIFIED: CITY PRIMEVAL 1.05 You Good?

[emry-stars-art]

Iiiiiiii forgot to post beach episode pt 2 here

(Don’t tell instagram about Kevin yet they don’t get him until tomorrow)

Wanna see pt 1? It’s my OG beefy minyards post 👀

[harrisongslimited]

George and Pattie Harrison

No, he's not naked....but it's close.

[the-gay-cousin-666]

Pt. 2 of Neil experiencing things he missed out on growing up

When summer hits, the Foxes pack up and spend a day at the beach. They manage to steal a spot where there's not many children around and spread out towels and umbrellas into a big chill spot

Not that anyone stays there for too long. Matt, Dan and Nicky are in the water immediately and Alison with Renee aren't far behind.

Neil needs a little more time to warm up to the idea. There is a lot of noise (not the good kind of exy-stadium-noise) and it's setting off his flight response, so he clings closer to Andrew than he normally would have.

He keeps his bands and t-shirt on, not really comfortable putting his scars on display.

He joins the water group eventually, after borrowing Renee's sunscreen because he didn't think to get one for himself and Kevin wouldn't stop pestering him.

(here is where I finally think to ask if Neil can swim... Let's say he can for the sake of this post)

They splash around, throw sand at each other and play what's-his-face in the deeper water, and Neil actually genuinely laughs.

It's not too long before Andrew walks into the water. He'd rather stay in the shade but that would mean listening to Kevin blabber about exy. They are on vacation for gods sake.

He stays in the shallow area where the water is only halfway to his knees, a safe distance from the racket of the games, but Neil makes his way to him almost immediately.

They're sporting the same outfit and Dan manages to sneak a picture (parallel to the airport coats eeeeey).

Andrew says he doesn't like getting wet but he agrees to a swim around the buoys when the others leave to buy some food.

It's a quiet peaceful swim, even though Neil might have splashed Andrew on purpose a few times and Andrew might have splashed back but nobody can prove anything.

They come out just in time for early dinner, so they all wind down in the shade and get stuffed with tacos before packing up.

Neil still managed to get sunburn somehow. (so did Kevin even though he left the shade for exactly five minutes)

Oof only managed to fit one thing this time but I'm having a lot of fun with these (pt.3 already in my drafts)

I might use some of these for my "No cats on the counter" series. (Next story will be the Christmas Markets from pt.1 and then we'll see where it goes)

[harrrisons-weeping-guitar]

all i want for christmas 🤭

[ilovewhiteroses]

Clement singing Kokomo by The Beach Boys in Justified: City Primeval s1e4 - 'Kokomo' (video recorded by me)

[tokuvivor]

Duckverse June Week 4: Beach Day

Oh, this is going to be fun. This story is based around the Clamboree, featured in @justaboot’s story And a Sixpence in Your Shoe! If you haven’t read it yet, you absolutely should. And with that, I give you…

Clamming It Up (A Sixpence Story)

The Clamboree had been going full steam all day. All told, it was one of the best days of Huey’s life.

Not just because his mom was finally home for them to do it together (though that was a big reason).

After the chaos that had hung over the family the past few weeks with the presence of Velma Vanderbucks, especially yesterday’s wedding, the Clamboree proved to be the perfect respite following the madness.

The sun was shining, the temperature was just right, and there was plenty of action. He loved seeing the enthusiasm bursting not just from his family, but from all the families scattered around the beach.

He felt that the orchestra could have sounded a little better, but in the grand scheme of things, he didn’t care. He was just happy to perform with his fellow Woodchucks. Besides, it wasn’t like they had to be perfect in their execution.

As the afternoon gradually slipped into evening, Huey beamed proudly at all he and the rest of the troop had done. Sun, sand, and seafood. What more could one ask for out of an end-of-summer shindig?

After Huey was done performing at the bandstand, he felt that warranted another round of food. After all, performing music was hard work, especially for an instrument like the cello.

His family seemed to be scattered around the beach in various places. Uncle Scrooge and Goldie were crowded together, as were Uncle Donald and Daisy. Webby camped out between them, trying to balance eating with keeping an eye on The Pete House. Dewey, their mom, and Launchpad were eagerly waiting for their turn at karaoke. Mrs. Beakley was still on a roll at the dunk tank, and Louie had ultimately surrendered to the carnival games and decided to fix a plate of food himself.

Huey looked over near the rocks, noticing a log lying next to the array, and two familiar figures perched on top of it.

Huey perked up, making his way over to his two friends.

“Violet! Boyd!” he exclaimed. “Room for one more?”

The other two Woodchucks looked over at Huey.

“But of course!” Violet replied.

“C’mon, Huey,” implored Boyd. “There’s plenty of room!”

Violet and Boyd scooted over, and Huey slid in between the two.

The two of them had clearly been exerting themselves quite a bit over the course of the day, too.

Violet had, of course, come with her fathers and Lena. All day, she had ambitiously buzzed around the beach, taking in everything, helping out wherever she could. She was also impressively strong when it came to hauling in lobster traps. Her dark, curly hair, usually pulled into a tight bun, hung loosely around her shoulders, her Woodchuck hat perched on top. Her uniform was partially unbuttoned, exposing a bit of her teal bathing suit. The cuffs of her pants were soaking wet.

Boyd, meanwhile, for the first time, had come with Dr. Gearloose, whose usual aversion to going outside was prevalent in the fact that he had brought a massive bottle of sunscreen for himself and Boyd. In fact, the little parrot still had some white blotches visible on his face and arms. He had been busy all day himself, catching various forms of ocean life, both for consumption and observation, running items back and forth for the various areas, and, like Huey and Violet, performing in the orchestra.

“That’s a rather interesting facial design, Hubert,” Violet commented, noting Huey’s face paint.

“Oh! This,” responded Huey. “Webby and I got matching Scars of the Ancients.”

“Fascinating. I am impressed with the detail.”

“Webby showed Mila a picture for reference,” Huey explained. “Anyway! Wow. This has been quite a day.”

“Yep!” Boyd responded.

“Indeed it has,” Violet agreed. “Our troop has certainly pulled it off well.”

Huey nodded. “I can’t believe how many people came this year!” he exclaimed.

“I’m glad that Dad was willing to come,” Boyd said happily.

Violet peered over at the chicken scientist. “He is certainly covering all his bases when it comes to sun protection,” she noted. “Anyway…uh, may I address the elephant in the room here? Well, not a room, but you two know what I mean.”

“Yes,” Huey replied. “Go ahead.”

“Excellent,” Violet continued. “I just wanted to note, on a whole, this has certainly been more enjoyable than yesterday.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” muttered Huey.

“I agree,” Boyd concurred.

“I cannot believe that your uncle almost ended up marrying that…that she-devil,” Violet spat out. “I must say, she seems to make even Magica De Spell look like a saint.”

“Hey, you’re just lucky you didn’t have to, for all intents and purposes, live in the same house as her,” Huey reasoned. “Also, thanks again for your assistance with all that, Violet. You and Lena, really.”

“Any time,” Violet responded. “I will admit, it was rather fun assisting with the whole plan to get Ms. O’Gilt to crash the wedding. Admittedly, prior to yesterday, I had only seen the crashing of weddings in movies. Trust me, our fathers have seen a lot of those.”

“That was quite the reveal, though!” Boyd exclaimed in between bites of paella. “How you all just laid it out, piece by piece, for Ms. Vanderbucks, her plan just gradually seeping through her fingers like sand.” He leaned over and scooped up a tiny fistful of sand to make his statement, letting it run out through his own fingers.

Huey laughed, then stopped abruptly.

“What is it, Hubert?” Violet asked.

“The plan…” he began.

“What about it?” Boyd wondered.

“It wasn’t just about taking control of Uncle Scrooge and, by extent, his riches,” Huey explained. “It was also about splitting us up. Including, but certainly not limited to, taking me, Dewey, and Louie away from Mom, as the courts would have ruled her as unfit, and sending us to boarding schools.” He put particular emphasis on that last S.

Violet and Boyd were in absolute shock.

“I would very much like to say that she could not do that, but given both your mother’s past and her doubtlessly countless ties to many, she very much could have and would have,” Violet snapped.

“And she would’ve gotten away with it, too,” Boyd added.

“And it would not have been fair, all the same,” Violet finished. “But that, I guess, is how the hush puppy crumbles.” She took a bite for emphasis.

“No. It wouldn’t have,” agreed Huey. “I’d have been away from my brothers, away from my family, away from you guys, and I just wouldn’t have been happy with any of it.”

“Neither would we,” Boyd responded. “Being a Woodchuck wouldn’t be the same without you here.”

“Concisely put, Boyd,” Violet agreed. “That is why, structurally speaking, triangles are the strongest shape. Each side needs to rely on the other two for support. Two sides, all on their own, would just result in a collapse.”

Huey beamed. He pulled his two friends into a side hug. “Thanks, you two,” he replied. “I’m glad to have friends like you.”

“So am I, Huey,” Boyd added.

“Here, here,” Violet finished.

They spent a little more time talking, laughing, and joking, and then they heard, “Hey, Huey! You coming or not?”

The three noticed Dewey, waving madly.

“Wait, what?” Huey yelled back.

“Mom and Uncle Donald are taking us to the Creamery for milkshakes soon!” Dewey replied.

“Oh! Right! Coming!” Huey called.

He looked back between Violet and Boyd.

“I take it that is your cue,” Violet deduced.

“Yeah,” Huey replied, sighing. “This was still great, though! I’m glad I had a chance to talk to you two, at least. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Okay!” Boyd responded. “Bye, Huey!”

“Farewell, Hubert, Warrior of the Ancients,” Violet added cheekily.

And Huey set off towards his family, making sure to throw his plate and cup away in the process. ‘What a weekend,’ he thought. ‘I mean, a wedding, stopping an ancient snake deity, living it up at the Clamboree, now milkshakes? I’d like to see that be topped. Just not immediately.’

He took one last look at the beach, then turned back, visions of milkshakes dancing in his head.

[toxicanonymity]

Toxic! I’m so excited for more beach walks! I love all the Boyd content you’ve been giving us with Steve and Javi and now Billy and Joel 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

Can’t wait for more! Love you!

I'm so glad you're enjoying the ride. Joel and Billy are cut from the same cloth in that they both know you're gonna want that D, and their intense sexual energy is always bubbling just below a chill surface. fic

Love you too 🫶 tysm for reading!

in this gif the character is half-heartedly saying no bc she's married (they already did it once). this vid.

[michaeltrevino]

🎵 Aruba, Jamaica, ooh, I wanna take you to Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama Key Largo, Montego Baby, why don't we go down to Kokomo We'll get there fast And then we'll take it slow That's where we wanna go Way down in Kokomo 🎵

[cherrydott]

Fenro taking care of Boyd

But does YOUR sand dad have not only a moat, but a sand bin full of beach pennies and a functioning lighthouse???

[daughterofhecata]

Weil mich @bistdueinbaum's heutiger writer's month prompt fill gerade daran erinnert hat: Können wir noch mal kurz darüber reden, dass das Boot von Jeffrey(s Vater) literally Rainbow heißt? Zufall? Ich glaube nicht. Was bedeutet, dass Evelyn in einem (1) Buch näher daran gekommen ist, Jeffrey als queer on page zu kanonisieren als Marx in *murmelt unverständliche Zahl* Büchern.