#pudding trunk

[erhack]

No one is more 'rebellious' than a tree. As a tree grows, its upward movement is a rebellion against the force of gravity.

[toxicanonymity]

beach walks

7k, Joel x f!reader; surf instructor Billy x f!reader (Billy gifs)

night walks au A/N: Picks up right after beach walks prequel.

SUMMARY: Paths cross, and Joel can't let you go. WARNINGS: I8+ angst, infidelity adjacent if you squint, drugs, dubcon (drugs/location) p in v, somewhat possessive!joel, exhibitionism, homoerotic tension if you squint. cuck!billy but you also sit on his face.

Joel can't sleep. He stares at the ceiling and keeps drifting back to what he shouldn't have seen - you in the pool with Billy. Plus, he evisions you fucking on the beach, in the hotel, in that stupid shack. He's not happy about it, but you’re so damn hot. He can't help the way his body reacts. He keeps hearing that moan, fuck.

He figures out what helps him get back to sleep, and by the end of the night, he's used all the lotion in that little bottle. 

He wakes up for the last time around five. He showers and packs his bag. It's still dark when he goes for a walk on the beach. As the sky hints at sunrise, he stands with his fingers interlaced on the crown of his head and listens to the birds. He’s been doing his best, and it turns out his best sucks. On a sandbar, he finds a live starfish missing an arm and gently tosses it like a Frisbee back into the ocean. 

What is he doing? He could've left it all alone. 

He walks back to the hotel and gets a cup of coffee and a newspaper. He goes out on the cafe porch to read. There's a yoga class in view on the beach, and he looks to see if you're in it. Yeah, there you are. His stomach drops and his nostrils flare with a deep breath. You look great, but he can't see your ass. Right behind you, there's Billy. 

Why Billy? He's impossible to hate. At least he's also impossible to tame. No way it goes beyond this vacation. But if anyone can make him wanna change, it might be you. Joel used to think Billy had it made, but he's a lonely guy underneath it all.

—---you------

Four of you are eating breakfast at a table for six in the dining hall. You're sitting across from Billy.

“Can’t miss with Billy’s Bistro. Never burn the toast, never give ya salmonella . . .” 

“Salmonella?” Your friend Kari asks. “Was there an outbreak here?” 

Billy has a spoon in his mouth, but his eyes widen. He looks back and forth between all three of you as he slowly swallows his chia pudding, then says, “Explains the Groupon, doesn't it?” 

“Gross,” Kari pushes her plate away. 

Billy shrugs, then looks at you. “Billy’s bistro,” he mouths with a subtle sparkle in his eyes. His face softens, then comes to life when he looks behind you. 

“There he is,” Billy announces. 

You look back and do a double take. Your heart skips a beat, and your eyes widen. Joel gives you a nod of acknowledgement. 

He’s wearing swim trunks, and his thighs look massive. All of him does. Did the memories fade, or did he manage to put on 10 lbs of muscle in what, two months? His hair is longer – only an inch or so, but enough to curl. You can’t stop staring. Your face is cold and tingly.

“Have a seat, mate.” Billy uses his foot to push out the chair to his right, at the head of the table. He puts his hand on Joel's hulking trapezius as he sits down. 

“Joel Miller. This man is a legend,” Billy tells you.

You glance at your friends, and they're as shocked as you. They met Joel once, at the restaurant. 

“Taught me how to roll my first joint,” Billy says. “Now I can't even get’m to take a bong rip.” He turns to Joel. “That was some good shit ya brought, mate.”

“Yeah,” Joel says barely above a whisper, glancing at you.

“Hey Joel,” your friend Nahlah says. 

“Hey, Nahlah.” 

You had barely let him sit down to say hello at that restaurant. 

“So you know each other,” Billy concludes. “Brilliant! What a world.”

“Yeah, we know each other,” Joel subtly nods, looking at you. He looks tired.

“Do they know the new you?” Billy asks. 

“The new you?” you ask Joel. 

“Health nut.” Billy grabs Joel's arm, beaming. “Look at’m.” He turns his attention to Joel. “On the straight and narrow. Can't believe it.”   

“Really?” you ask Joel. 

Joel sighs and side-eyes Billy. “No. Just had to, kinda. . . get my life together for a minute.”

It’s a punch to the gut. Getting his life together meant dropping you? That’s where he went? Your face burns, and your nostrils flare. 

“Excuse me,” you tell the rest of them, and stand up with heat in your chest, determined not to make a scene.  

“Catch up later,” Billy says and reaches for you as you come around Joel’s chair. You lean in and he gives you a kiss on the cheek. You don't look back on your way out the door. 

—

You get down to the beach, take off your sandals, and walk, heading nowhere in particular. 

Soon enough, Joel is calling your name, jogging. You keep walking, but he catches up. He walks beside you in silence, between you and the ocean. You try to ignore the stride of his hulking form in your periphery. 

“Guess I don’t fit in your new life,” you mutter, then swallow the knot in your throat and put your shades on, even though it’s not sunny. You keep walking. 

“Yeah ya do, baby,” he reaches for your hand. The tenderness almost gets to you, but it’s out of nowhere. You just can’t. You cross your arms and slow your pace. 

“Guess I never did,” you mumble. 

“I’m sorry.” Joel looks at you. You keep looking down, taking slow, careful steps. 

“For what?” you ask, looking at the sand for an answer.

“Bein’ a fuckin’ idiot. Wrapped up in my own shit.” 

“What shit?” you ask. 

“I’ll tell ya everything, but–” 

“--But what?” 

“We’re supposed to head out in like (he looks at his watch) fuck. Like ten minutes.” 

You scoff. “Did something happen?”

“No—well, yeah.” He looks around then asks, “You okay?”

You don’t answer. 

“You looked happy,” he says, gesturing over his shoulder toward the dining hall. It sounds more like a question than an observation. Yeah, you were finally having a good time without him until he showed up. Now you’re confused, and mad at him for confusing you. 

You stop in your tracks and turn to face him and the water. “What happened? You couldn’t even text me?” 

The sky gets darker as thicker cloud cover creeps over the sun. “I should’ve,” Joel nods. 

You barely have the energy to walk. You sit down on the sand. He better tell you, right now, if there's any hope.

He swallows and looks down and away, then takes off his sunglasses and joins you on the sand.  “Got in my head,” he mumbles. “So many times, I was gonna. . .even walked to your door one night.” 

“.. .okay?” You wait for him to continue. 

“Thought ya might think I was lame, cause I wasn’t the same, I was. . .” 

“You were trying to get your life together,” you recite, genuinely trying to digest it for the first time. A tear falls out of your eye and you angrily wipe it away.

He shakes his head. “Never shoulda said it that way. I had somethin’ to take care of. Tell ya ‘bout it when we've got time” 

The lump is back in your throat, full force. He’s really gonna swoop in just long enough to make you sad, then leave you as confused as ever.

He looks dejected. “I know, I’m an idiot.” 

“So what do you want?” you ask. 

He looks at the sea for a moment. “To start over.” 

“Why?” you ask and wipe away more tears. Your voice becomes strained. “What do you regret?” 

“Nothin’, pumpkin. . . shit, I’m so bad at this.” He groans in frustration at himself. “And I know it, that’s why I. . .” he trails off and shakes his head. 

You glance at his eyes and curse yourself for a twinge of empathy.

He claws a handful of the dry sand between you into a little pile and mumbles, “You deserve better, always did.” He smoothes out the pile, then pivots to face more in your direction. “Look at me, pumpkin’. Please.” He reaches for your sunglasses. You pull back your head away and take them off yourself.  You turn and face him. He wipes his hand off on his shirt before brushing tears off your cheek with his thumb. “Only thing I regret is bein’ such a dick.” 

You begin to stand up, not wanting to feel him suddenly leave you again.  Once you’re standing, you cross your arms again. You dig the toes of one foot into the sand.  Joel’s hands gently engulf each of your elbows, and he gets as close as he can. You don’t pull away, but you don’t open up either. He hugs you anyway. 

God, his arms are huge. He holds you tight and breathes into your hair. He mutters, “Think about you all the time.” You let out a held breath, then his scent fills your lungs. A wave of affection threatens to break down your walls.

Your arms uncross on their own, and he hugs you with his body fully against yours. It feels like a warm mistake. It’s too late now. 

“Ya know, I would’ve done it with you,” you sniffle. “Whatever this lifestyle thing. . .” 

He whispers your name and hugs you tighter. He holds you for a minute, and you dab your eyes on his hulking shoulder. The weight of his arms is as soothing as his scent. This isn’t fixed, you tell yourself. You’re not going to pick up where you left off. If he invited you back to his room right now, you wouldn’t go. But somehow, you feel for him. You’ve never seen him anxious or vulnerable. He’s always been so sure of himself. So full of himself, but in a charming way.

You begin to pull away, still determined not to be the one who gets left. “Guess you’ve gotta go,” you mutter. 

He looks sad as he slowly drops his arms, running his hands down your back. “Talk when you’re home?”

You sigh and look at your feet. Your self-preservation instincts tell you to cut him off. Quit him while you can. While you have the upper hand. While he can’t hurt you worse than he has. “What can’t you say right now?”

“A lot,” he answers without missing a beat. He seems to glance at your neck, but you can’t be sure. 

You shake your head no. 

“Please. Then I’ll leave ya ‘lone if ya want.” His eyes shift away. Does he mean that? Your eyes cloud up again, and you put your glasses back on. 

“I dunno.” You walk back to the main building in silence and slip on your sandals on the way in.  Joel hugs you goodbye. It feels like he doesn’t want to let go, and you don’t want him to either. Your arms faintly itch as he walks away, and you brush off the sand.

—

After Joel leaves, your friends finish eating and emerge from the dining hall. 

“Where’s Billy?” you ask. 

“He has a lesson,” Nahlah says. 

-

You go back to your room and take a shower, trying to wash it all away, but Joel’s presence lingers, even as you turn off the water. You lie on your bed looking at the ceiling. Nahlah and Kari are on the other bed, watching ghost hunters on the free cable. 

“How was last night?” Kari asks. 

You sigh and mutter, “I need a nap.” 

“I bet you do,” Nahlah teases. 

You drift off, hoping everything will sort itself out while you dream. 

–

You sleep for hours and wake up alone, without the clarity you’d hoped for, except that you resent what Joel’s doing.  You’re already falling under his spell again, and you don’t like it.  It would be too easy for him to break your heart again. You know what could take your mind off it. 

-

You walk down to the shore, and Billy is finishing up a lesson. He sees you and nods toward the shack. You let yourself in and wait on the sofa, emo and increasingly horny. 

He comes through the door and takes off his long sleeves. He tousles his hair and stretches his neck with his hand on the tattoo. He takes a sip from a squeeze bottle, then asks, “You alright? What happened earlier?” 

“Nothing,” you rest your head in your left hand, with your elbow on the arm of the loveseat. 

“He’s a good guy,” Billy says, then looks at his watch and shifts gears. “Got fifteen minutes.” 

He joins you on the loveseat, then leans over you, pressing a kiss into your lips and pulling you closer. The kiss is loaded. You welcome his tongue, soothed by his touch, but your energy is gone. You’re practically catatonic compared to before. He kisses you for a few more seconds, then breaks away and asks, “You alright?” 

You nod and kiss him back, then reach for his shorts, cupping his semi-hard package. 

He breaks away and reads your eyes. “‘S’alright, love.” 

He pulls away entirely and slumps into the loveseat, using the opposite arm as a pillow. “C’mere,” he mumbles, and opens his arms. You lay face down on his warm, bare chest, beads of sea water transferring to your beach dress—through one of its crochet holes, a pierced nipple teases your skin.  

Billy holds you. You lie there, relaxed, one leg over his. A tear rolls out of your eye and onto his hot skin. “Shh,” He rubs your back for a few minutes, his chest rising and falling under you. His cock twitches against your thigh between his legs, and a shock of desire zaps through you. His hips lift slightly, just once, and your eyes flutter open. He sucks back his chin to look down at you, then his fingers lift your chin to look at him. You’re no longer crying at all. 

“There she is,” he murmurs, with his pupils widening before your eyes. He reads your eyes and glances at your lips. “Fucking gorgeous.” His face drifts toward yours, your neck extends, and his lips nudge your upper lip before your mouths come together. You prop yourself up with your forearm so neither of you has to strain your neck. The kiss starts languidly, then heats up and his hands come to your hips. As you kiss, his hips lift into you, and his cock hardens against your quad. As he licks into your mouth, you slowly grind on his thigh. He breaks away, searches your eyes, and whispers, “attagirl,” before claiming your lips again. With your limbs slotted together, you make out, grind, and quietly grunt.

For a while, your thoughts are gone, then Joel walks back into your head. You wonder how good he’d fuck you now, if he thinks it’s his last chance. Still moving on Billy’s thigh with your mouth half-connected with his, your breaths get heavy with desire. Would Joel be rough? Would he be tender? Would he be how he is so often–ravenous, but deliberate and appreciative of every inch of your body? You imagine his cock shoving into you and the way he’d sigh, yeah. 

Now you’re gushing wet, already about to cum. You break the kiss to moan, and Billy breathes, “Yeah, good girl.” He grinds against you and his hands move you on his bare thigh, now coated with your slick. “Fuck, that wet for me.” Not just for him, but, yeah, that wet. His cock has hardened against your hip. “Mmm,” he moans into your mouth as his lips take yours again. Joel’s a good kisser too. A little more forceful, but still smooth. You’re thinking about Joel being under you. Imagining the first time you were in Joel’s basement, when he pulled you into his lap so decisively. You’re on the edge of bliss, sliding on Billy’s thigh. You bite your lip, then moan. “Yeah,” Billy encourages you. 

When it’s clear you’re not quite there, Billy breathes, “Sit on me. C’mere.”

His mouth hangs slightly open, and his eyes are black with lust. You carefully lift your knee off the cushion between his legs, and the light touch of his hand helps you on top of him as he watches, spellbound. You lower yourself at just the right angle and moan at the first direct contact with the stiff shape in his shorts. Your eyelids are heavy. 

He lifts up the hem of your beach dress, and you take it off. He moans at the sight of your body. 

His lips remain slightly parted as his hips lift, grinding against you. He palms a breast, and you massage your other one. He begins to reach between you, fingertips sliding into his waistband, then looks behind you at the clock. “Sit on my face.” 

He scoots down to put his head flat on the cushion, and you rise off his shorts. He takes his cock out with a sigh and spits on his fingers as you knee walk forward. He spreads the spit on his cock and breathes vocally, eyes on your tits. You could swear you smell his precum. 

He unties your swimsuit bottom and lets half of it fall, leaving your slippery cunt bare. His palms on your ass bring you down, and his scruff drags against your inner thigh. His warm, humid breath envelopes your most sensitive place, then his lips make contact.

One hand leaves you to attend to his raging erection, and he grunts a short “mm” into your cunt at the relief. He laps at your entrance, licking upward, then latches onto the space just above that. He licks your clit, then sucks. He moans into the bundle of nerves, and your thighs tremble. He breaks away for short moments, breathing hot against your folds as he strokes his cock behind you. He eats you voraciously, and you whimper. He’s at just the right spot, doing just the right thing, and he keeps at it.

You brace your hands on the arm of the sofa and think about Joel looking up at you from between your legs. You take a deep breath and see stars. Your body twitches and you moan, riding your waves, with Billy moaning into your cunt. He gently laps at your entrance and strokes himself faster. As your climax wanes, you rise off his mouth, with Billy still stroking himself, not finished. He gathers slick from your folds, brings it to his cock, then pants pants, “How ‘bout another?” He begins to pull you back down.

“No,” you whisper, “that was perfect.” You allow him to keep you there, hovering over him. 

“Wanna ride?” His voice is shaky as he keeps pumping his cock behind you. 

“Not now,” you answer. 

He turns his head slightly, seals his lips on your thigh, and sucks. You reach down between your legs and grab hold of his damp, salty hair to pry him off. 

“Mmm,” he responds,“Yeah.” His strokes are heavier and so are his breaths. You experimentally tug at his hair again. He shudders, then paints his stomach in cum, with a warm squirt reaching your ass. 

He scoots out from under you and asks for the third time, “you alright?” 

You tie your swimsuit again and settle into the loveseat, face and chest still heated from your peak. “Yeah,” you nod. 

He fixes his swim trunks then prowls toward you to give you a gentle kiss and you taste yourself on his lips. “You’re tasty, love,” he murmurs, then pulls away. 

He puts on his rash guard, then points at you, “Aqua tonight.”  Right, his DJ thing. He gets off the loveseat and looks at the clock. “Before I forget,” He grabs his bag and unzips a front pocket that looks to be full of condoms and pill baggies. He turns his head to ask, “How many of ya?” 

“Three, I guess.” 

He rummages around, then holds up a little baggie with three pills. “Just a little X.” 

“Oh, I dunno if we’ll–” 

He shrugs. “Might try it.” He looks at the clock and mutters, “shit.”  

He presses the baggie into your palm and closes your hand. He holds up a few condoms and asks, “just in case?”. 

---Joel----

On the road, Tommy and Maria talk and listen to music. In the back seat, Joel looks out the window, or he wants to look out the window, but he looks at his reflection. He can’t shake the feeling of your warm tears wetting his shirt, or the image of you kissing Billy, or the glance at what he’s pretty sure was a hickey on your neck. He’d be surprised if it wasn’t after what he saw the night before. 

The further they get from the resort, the more Joel’s chest tightens. He takes out his phone to text you. He types, “I can’t leave you with him,” stares at it for a few seconds, then erases it. 

Who even is he anymore?  

Something clicks. 

At a stoplight, he says, “Stop at that gas station.” Tommy parks at a pump. They need gas anyway., “Open the hatch,”  Joel says. Tommy pops the trunk and gets out of the car to pump gas. Joel grabs his bag from the back and Tommy does a double take. 

“You goin’ back?” Tommy asks, not shocked. 

“Yeah.” Joel pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll find my way home.” 

“We can take ya back,” Tommy offers, nodding in the direction of the resort. 

“Nah,” Joel scratches the back of his neck. “Need the fresh air.”

He and Tommy share a brief, manly hug and pat on the back, then Joel walks off with his bag on one shoulder.

-

Joel’s coming for you. He might not have the right words, but he doesn’t need them. Never did. None of this was built on words. It was something unspoken under something physical and fierce. He pockets his phone and puts on his shades, walking with new resolve. There are things he wants to tell you, and some of them need words, but not all of them. The words can wait. They’ll come easier when you’re back where you belong. 

Two hours later, he’s back at the hotel. He smells his own sweat soaking through his shirt, and his phone’s about to overheat.

“Long time no see,” the receptionist says. 

“Yeah,” Joel mumbles without humor, then forces a smile. He gets a room, puts his things away, then heads out to find you. 

You’re not at the pool. You’re not in any of the common areas. 

He goes down to the beach, toward the surf lessons. 

-

Billy’s showing off for a customer. Joel sits in the sand and waits. He admires the way Billy moves in the water, resenting him at the same time. 

When Billy’s done, he walks up to Joel. Joel’s eyes fall on Billy’s swim trunks, then his mind goes to your hands, your mouth, your perfect cunt.  

Billy extends his hand, and pulls Joel up. He pats Joel’s arm, then lets him go. “Got some time if ya wanna catch a wave.” 

“Where is she?” Joel asks. 

“I dunno, mate. Prob’ly with her friends?” He motions for Joel to follow him to the shack. Years ago, Billy more or less offered Joel a handjob in that shack. Joel declined, and that was that. 

As they enter the shack, Billy unzips his quarter-zip long-sleeve top and pulls it off. He takes a sip of water, then wipes off his mouth. “So,” Billy starts. “What’s the story?” He turns up the water bottle again and it makes a high pitched sound as he sucks it. “Ex-lovers?” he asks with a smile. 

Joel’s jaw clenches. He takes a breath through his nose and calms himself. “Not ex.” 

Billy chokes on his water, then wipes his mouth again. “Does she know that?” 

Joel rakes his hand through his hair, at a loss. “That’s my girl,” he nods, heart pounding. 

“I don’t think she is, mate. Women aren’t property-” 

“-cut the crap, Billy.” Joel’s chest is heaving. 

Billy’s eyes fall to Joel’s right hand, which is flexing into a fist. 

“Hit me if it makes ya feel better,” Billy puts down the water bottle and braces himself in a welcoming stance. 

This fucker. No, Joel isn’t going to hit him. 

Joel forces himself to relax, puts his hands on his hips and shifts his weight, shaking his head at the floor. 

Billy lunges toward him, light on his feet as if he’s gonna sucker punch Joel. It’s playful, but Joel drops his shoulder and tackles him to the floor before he can get in a jab. 

On the floor, Billy fights back, eyes wild, but Joel’s too strong. He pins him with his left forearm on his chest, straddling him. 

Billy grabs Joel’s left tricep. “Look at that,” he marvels. “Unbelievable.” 

Joel looks into the blue eyes staring up at him and wonders if you’ve had this POV. For a brief moment, he’s tempted to slide his forearm up to his neck. Billy looks at Joel’s right hand which opens and shuts in the air, stretching.  

“I can take it,” Billy urges. “C’mon, knock me around.” 

Billy’s enthusiasm takes the wind out of Joel’s sails and brings him back to reality. He releases his forearm and sits back on his knees, still bracketing Billy’s hips. Joel slowly stands with a groan, then helps Billy to his feet. 

—- Later at Aqua —--

Billy has given you the closest VIP table. You and your friends are sitting there with a drink. He points at you from his DJ booth, which is on a raised platform. All three of you hold up your drinks and smile at him. 

Kari and Nahlah have had their eyes on a couple of guys who are finally approaching. It's a group of three. You decline to dance, so the third guy sits down to have a drink with you instead, shouting over the music, “HOW LONG ARE YOU IN TOWN?” You look past the man, and Billy is laughing, looking down at his mixer board. After indulging the man for another minute or so, you excuse yourself to the restroom, hoping the man will take the hint and disappear in your absence.

On the way to the restroom, you pass a couple of dark rooms with hall windows and suspect people might be fucking in there. The half-pill you’ve taken isn’t doing anything, but you know better than to double it just yet. 

When you come out from the restroom, the guy is still at your table. You curse him under your breath and head outside for some fresh air.

-

You duck out a door that’s propped open. Smokers are milling about. A few partiers are comforting a crying friend. You walk just far enough to get some space from that scene and the artificial light. You lean against the brick wall to breathe. The tiniest droplets of sea water tingle merrily on your face. You open your mouth and can taste it in the air. You fill your lungs and savor the breath. A buzz hums from your skin.

Your dress has a slit on one side and is long enough that you can lift your knee and rest one foot on the wall behind you without exposing yourself—but that wouldn’t be the end of the world anyway. You watch palm leaves rustle in the ocean breeze and look at the sky. There are more stars here than at home. Maybe you should take a walk. 

You’re still gazing into the sky when you notice someone in a colorful shirt approaching. They flick their cigarette away and it sparks. You smile, and as they come into focus, they turn into Joel. 

Are you rolling that hard after half a pill? You’ve still got your wits about you, don’t you? You watched Joel leave this morning, and you’ve never seen him dressed like this. The colors vibe perfectly on his silk shirt, and a gold chain sparkles underneath. His curls are fluffier than earlier. 

He slowly approaches and wets his lips when he’s a few feet away. His eyes rove your body. When he’s close enough, he rests his hand on the brick wall to lean over you. He smells like cloves. He looks tired. He leans a little closer, and you look him in the eyes. 

“Thought you left,” you mutter.

He shakes his head, and continues to gaze into your eyes. “Couldn’t do it.” 

You run a hand up his chest, palm gliding across his shirt. His chest is strong, and the fabric is like cool shaving cream under your fingers. In the back of your mind, you still have so many questions, but you don’t ask them. Not now. 

“You can be mad at me,” his brows knit and he nods twice. ”I deserve that.”  His eyes lock on yours.  “But I'm not gonna let ya go.” 

Your nipples harden with a chill, and your lips part.  

His gaze falls from your eyes to your lips, and you tilt your chin up. His eyes fall further, to your neck, and he inhales sharply through his nose. You turn your head the other way. Still braced on the wall, he nudges your chin so he can look at the bruising. You feel his heart rate quicken under your hand, and you slide your hand up to the cold sweat beading on his neck. 

His thumb brushes over the bruising. He brings his mouth and nose to the other side and grazes your sensitive skin with his nose. His tongue teases you and you shiver, then he plants his lips. He grunts softly as he marks you. His breath hits your wet skin as he lingers there to murmur, “Missed how ya taste.” 

He returns to the bruised side of your neck and licks the mark, tenderly, then harder. It’s sore, but you don’t react. For a moment, his lips lay plush and soft against your damaged skin. Then he opens his mouth wide. He scrapes his teeth, then plants his lips and sucks, and you try not to flinch but let out a little gasp. He tongues and sucks at it for almost five seconds before releasing you. 

He soothes the spot with the light touch of his lips, then kisses up your jaw, to your ear, where he murmurs, “What are you on, and how much?”

You tell him. 

“Should be fine,” he mutters to himself as he pulls his head back. 

“Why?”

He looks back and forth between your eyes. “Wanna make sure you remember.” 

You wet your lips and swallow. 

He’s close enough that his body heat enhances yours. His whole presence is a warm embrace. You half-heartedly try to conjure what you went through earlier—the hurt, the resolve not to let it happen again. You can’t find it under your affection, wonder, and empathy. Something tells you it’s going to be okay. 

He looks at your neck again. 

You open your mouth to apologize, but he cuts you off, “Shh.” He takes your hand and leads you back inside. 

-

It’s dark, minus the red and pink lights washing over the dance floor, which is crowded but not quite packed. He gets two soda waters from the bar, and you sit down in the VIP booth. He has his arm around you, caressing your shoulder. Soon, you have your legs in his lap, just happy to have him close. You reach into your dress for the small plastic baggie. Joel is watching the dance floor and idly stroking your leg as you pour the other piece of the pill into your hand. Some of it is powder by now. Joel’s eyes return just in time to see you put it on your tongue. 

He squeezes your chin to open your mouth, then, with the same hand, sticks two massive fingers between your lips to retrieve the pill. “You don’t need this,” he mutters, then sticks what remains of the pill in his mouth and takes a sip of water.  “What else ya got in there?” Joel feels you up through the fabric on and around your tits, and his eyebrows shoot up when his hand catches on something.

He shoves his hand down your dress and finds it tucked under your arm: a small, foil square. He turns it over and the clear backing reveals a glow-in-the-dark condom. He tosses it onto the table, then pulls you tighter against him. Your hip brushes a warm bulge in his soft black pants, and it twitches. These pants would be so easy to slip your hand into, you just know it. But before you can try, he brings his mouth to your ear. “C’mon, let’s dance.” 

-

On the dance floor, Joel stands behind you, and his heavy arms snake around your torso. He moves with you, with the music, and runs his palms over your dress. His dick hardens, and those silky pants leave nothing to the imagination as the vivid outline grinds against you. You lose yourself in his touch, in the soft rub of his cock, until you sense someone watching and glance toward the DJ booth. Billy smiles to himself and goes back to his mixing board. Joel shamelessly grabs your tit again. You’re already so wet for him.  In the corner of your eye, you see Billy still watching but pretend you don’t notice. 

“You’re so damn hot,” Joel growls right against your ear as he massages your breast and grinds against you with his arm crossing your body and one hand on your hip.  “Uggh,” he groans in arousal. He jostles behind you, adjusting his pants, then gathers the long skirt of your dress. He covers your ass with himself before the air has a chance to hit you. Then his hard, naked cock slides between your thighs. You gasp and look back. He kisses the side of your neck. You’re gushing all over him. Your thong is soaked through, and he’s sliding along your folds, hot and hard. He moans in your ear. His tip pushes the front of your dress out with every thrust through that warm, wet sleeve of your thighs against your cunt. 

Each pass of his tip makes you need him so bad. You turn your head back to say, “Let’s go somewhere.” 

“You want it?” he asks and slides out from your thighs, reaching down between you to put his dick away before letting your skirt down. 

You nod and begin to lead him to the restroom, but he firmly holds your elbow. You turn around and put your arms around his neck to plead, “Let’s go,” nodding toward the bathrooms. He grabs your ass and grinds against your front, raging hard.  He holds you close and you give up for the moment. 

He dips his head and noses your chin up. His lips brush a sore area, and you twitch. You slot your fingers into his curly locks, making him growl silently into your skin. "Joel," you sigh. "Let's go."

Either he doesn't hear you or pretends not to.  "Mmm," his hum vibrates into your skin. He pries his lips off your neck only to plant them on your mouth. Your tongues meet, and you need him, you really need him. Now. 

After a few seconds of bliss, you break the kiss to plead, "Let’s go." He reads your face and shakes his head no as a dim red light falls over you in passing. Your mouth falls open in protest. He grinds against you, letting his answer sink in. And in case there's any doubt, he brings his lips to your ear. "Gonna take it right here." 

He gathers the front of your dress. You swallow, stunned and throbbing in anticipation. 

He takes his cock out under your dress, then lifts one of your thighs, and you hook it around him. He keeps your raised knee against him. Your shoes are just the right height. He pulls your thong to the side and there’s no mistaking how wet and ready you are. Right away, he notches at your entrance. You tilt your hips. His fingers dig into your thigh and the plush of your ass. He plunges in with a grunt, pushing a gasp out of you as he divides your walls in what feels like slow motion. Your eyes flutter closed and your head falls back as his cock makes its place inside you. He holds you against himself, and your leg stays hiked up as he retreats, then begins to slide into you to the beat of the music. He brings his lips to your ear. “Ohh–good girl.”

You’d envisioned this every day since the last time and somehow forgot it was this good. He holds you close, his body flexing, expertly moving inside yours. You’ve missed this, you’ve really missed it. He grunts and moans into your hair, unrestrained. The music is loud enough. 

“Fuck, you’re hot,” he practically shouts, holding you by the ass and thigh as he fucks up into you. It’s a thrill being full of his cock in a sea of people. The song changes and you glance toward the DJ booth. Billy is looking right at you. Joel’s pace slows to match the new tempo. You melt into his arms with the perfect shape of his length dragging between your walls. Billy’s eyes smile, and he slowly nods. You catch him adjusting himself just below the DJ table which makes your walls twitch. You bite your lip. 

The grip of Joel’s fingers tightens, pressing firmly into your flesh. Billy’s hand is still below the mixing table when Joel turns your face back toward him and kisses you. Everything else fades away except his mouth on yours and his cock thrusting into you. The smooth slide of his tongue makes you twitch. His thrusts become sharper, deeper with the aid of his bruising grip, and your mouths break apart with labored breaths and moans. God, you’re wet, and only getting wetter. 

Joel searches your eyes as he thrusts into you. The lights wash over you again, and his pupils are wide. You gaze at each other, and you hold the back of his head, fingers tangling in his long curls as he slowly fucks you on the dance floor. There’s a glance from one or two dancers, but no one cares. 

You steal another glance at Billy, and he looks to be in a trance with his mouth hanging slightly open. He wets his lip and he closes his mouth, then runs his hand through his hair. You bury your face in Joel’s neck, and his familiar scent enhances everything. Pleasure is building more with each thrust of his cock making you whole. Nothing compares to this.

Joel grunts and sighs, and twitches. “Ohh, fuck,” he sighs. Is he going to come like this? God, he’s sexy. He tilts his head down and noses your nose so your chin tilts up and he finds your lips again. He kisses you sloppily, loosely, breathing and grunting, and the way he fills you up— shit, he feels good. Are you going to come like this? 

“Don’t let me fall,” you plead. 

He stares at your lips and his mouth draws yours in. He bottoms out and stays deep, moving in short pulses, holding you so your front grinds against his. 

You break the kiss to sigh, “Fuck.” You whimper against his lips as it overtakes you in slow motion. You don’t hold back. The moan rips out of your chest as your body clenches around his. You pulse, and your body spasms. He holds you tighter. “Ohh,” you moan.

“Oh, baby,” He pants. Each thrust is sharp. “Oh, fuck,” he bottoms out and groans as he pulses powerfully.  “Ohhh.” He holds you still as you milk his cock. “Ohh, gg–unghhh.” When he’s nearly spent, an air horn sounds.  Joel groans, and you both look toward Billy. He nods and gives a low thumbs up as the last of Joel’s cum dribbles into you. Joel laughs into your hair, “I’m gonna kill’m.”  

Joel dips his knees to let his cock slide out. He lets your leg down, then your dress, and fixes his pants. He holds you for a whole song. His cum dribbles down your thigh, and you don't even wipe it with your dress. 

“Let's get outta here.” 

- 

You look for your friends, and they're still with the guys from earlier. Joel waits as you go over and say goodbye. When you return, he puts his arm around you as you walk outside.

Outside, he hugs you as you wait for an uber.  The night has dulled your anxiety, but it’s still there somewhere, and it reveals itself as you think about spending the night with him.

“I still don’t understand,” you whisper.

“I know, baby. Ya will. Promise.”

“Can you just answer one thing?”  He waits for your question.  “Who drives a black Mercedes?” 

You pull back to watch him react.

“Black Mercedes. . .” His brow furrows and he searches the pavement for an answer.

“The SUV you were in.” 

“Oh, pumpkin’,” his face softens.  “Just my lawyer, baby.” He kisses you on the forehead, which pauses your thoughts and weakens your eyes. 

Your phone buzzes with a call from Kari, but the call cuts off. Kari hasn’t texted, but in your messaging app, there’s a new group thread with three unread:

“come over to mine,” Billy had texted minutes ago. Then, “key’s under the cactus.”

Joel had already responded, “not tonight.” 

---

---

---

if you want the lore about the surf shack in didn't years ago here it is

I'm watching the comments and rbs for what people are excited about and what people want to see 👀

Thank you so much for reading. I really appreciate your patience and support. Your love of night walks Joel and investment in these two makes me really happy. Love you guys 🖤

@silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading @rainstorms-library

[suugarbabe]

completely fine if not!! just wanted to ask if in the end you were going to write the Mattheo x animagus!reader thingy i sent in some time back, but absolutely just out of curiosity!! i hope i don't come across as pressuring or similar, because i'm also very excited for your other projects and i can't wait to read them!!🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Omggggg I’m trash I’m trash I’m trash! I swear I did have this done. It’s right here. I’m so sorry I had this in my Google docs and lately I’ve been working straight from my inbox so I forgot I even completed it. Please don’t hate me I’m so sorry love :((

One of your favorite things about being in your cat form was basking in the sun. It really helped whenever you were stressed, or anxious, or tired, or whenever you really just needed to get away from other people. Today's basking came from just needing to clear your head.

You stretched your little black paws out, letting out a soft meow like yawn before turning on your side right in a sun spot. You were nearly drifted off into a light sleep when you hear someone slump against the other side of the tree.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you slowly stalked around the trunk to see none other than Mattheo Riddle. He didn’t notice you at first, his head sitting in his hands and breathing deeply.

You nuzzled your head against his thigh, his head snapping up at the motion. “Well hello there, beautiful,” he get your head an affection pet, looking around the courtyard for another person, “Are you out here by yourself? Where is your owner?”

You nudged his hand with the top of your head. He laughed lightly, “Okay, okay, I get the picture.” He started to lightly scratch the space between your ears, earning an affection purr from you.

You stayed cuddling with Mattheo like that for a good hour before he had to go. He said his apologies to you, saying he hoped he ran in to you again soon. You rubbed yourself against his legs before he left, then you went and sat in the sun again.

Later that day at lunch, you were talking with Susan Bones when Mattheo came and sat down next to you, a rather large smile on his face. You rested your head in your hand as you turned to look at him, an inquisitive look on your face.

Mattheo caught you staring, “What? Something on my face, Princess?” You laughed, dipping your finger in the pudding bowl next to you before tapping his nose, “You’ve got some pudding right about…there.”

Mattheo’s mouth dropped open in shock, “Oh you’re gonna pay for that later, Y/l/n. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.” This sentence caught your attention, “Oh? And what has put Mattheo in a good mood today?”

His smile was smug, “I made a new friend. Well, she’s a cat. But she’s beautiful and cuddly and…you know what I should just show you. She seems to hang out in the courtyard.”

Mattheo grabbed your hand, dragging you out of the Great Hall. You gave Susan an apologetic look, but see only seemed to be smirking. When you reached the courtyard, Mattheo was disappointed to see the cat was not there. You tried to give him a sympathetic look, without giving away that you knew why the cat was no longer there.

The next morning Mattheo found you again, in cat form. Giving you cuddles and ear stretches and belly rubs. It was the most physical affection Mattheo had shown you, even if he didn’t really know it was you. But you couldn’t give it up, not with the crush you’ve had on him for the last two years.

At lunch the same day Mattheo tried to show you the car, again. But again, it wasn’t there. For obvious reason. It went on like this about every other day for two weeks. Mattheo would find cat you in the morning, he started talking to you, telling you why he was upset, or about his day, his worries.

You started to feel a little bad every time he tried to show you the cat and it not being there. But nothing could prepare you for what Mattheo was essentially confessing one morning.

You were laying in his lap, stretched out while he made gentle circles on your belly. “Have you ever had feelings for someone that you weren’t sure if they liked you back?” You looked up at him from his lap, your little black ears perking up at his question.

He huffed to himself, “What am I saying, you’re a cat. You just look for rubs and cuddles. Ugh, gorgeous I really like this one girl. But we’re such good friends I don’t know if I should tell her. I keep trying to show her you. I really want to have something just between us, think maybe it’ll bring us closer,” Mattheo picked you up, holding you so your body stretched down but your little cat nose and his were nearly touching, his tone turning to baby voice, “but you always seem to be gone when I bring her, don’t you beautiful?”

He sighed, setting you down. You felt so guilty. You had to tell him the truth, you started running towards a set of trees on the other side of the courtyard. Your mad dash away startled Mattheo, him getting up and trying to chase after you.

Once behind the pair of trees, you transformed back to your regular self. Mattheo peaked around the trees, jumping back slightly when he saw you, his face quickly turning in to a smile, “Y/n/n, did you see her? The cat. She came right this way.”

You looked at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. “Teo…I, I am the cat.” Mattheo let out a chuckle, “What do you mean, love?”

You took a deep breath, looking down at the ground, “I, erm, I’m an animagus. A black cat more specifically. It’s why…why, erm, you could never show me her. Well, I was her.”

There was silence. You waited a beat, expecting him to be upset for keeping a secret or get upset for allowing him to be so vulnerable and essentially lying to him for the last three weeks.

What you didn’t expect was his arms to wrap around you, for him to pull you close and squeeze you tight before pulling back, “That is so bad ass.”

Your face broke out into a smile, “Really? You’re not, like, made or anything? I know I should’ve told you sooner but I just…liked being close to you. Even if it had to be that way.”

You met his eyes shyly, only to be met by his shining, “Y/n/n, this is seriously so cool. Merlin, I thought I loved you before but this is so amazing. You’re so amazing, beautiful, gorgeous. Human form and cat.”

Mattheo’s eyes widen at the realization of his confession. “I, erm, I’m sorry I-”

“I love you too, Teo,” you cut him off. He flashed you a dimpled smile, “Yeah?” You nodded your head, lifting up on your tip toes to press a light kiss to his cheek, which instantly flamed.

He looked at you with shy eyes, scratching the back of his neck nervously, “Now that you’re secrets out, don’t think we could maybe…erm, use your animagus to prank the other boys one day?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, nodding, “Under one condition.”

Mattheo placed his hands on your waist, “What’s that, love?”

You couldn’t resist the urge to be cheesy in the moment, “You call me officially yours, both human and cat form.” Mattheo’s smile widen impossibly larger. “That I can do, Princess,” he leaned in, stealing another sweet kiss from your lips.

[mondaymelon]

𖥔 ݁ ˖⩇⩇:⩇𝟥.𖥔 ݁ ˖

⤷ a halloween event hosted by @mondaymelon !!

prev.

taglist: @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @silaswritesthings, @neigesprincess, @mintydump, @kaeffeinee, @scaranaris-lil-niko !! ignore me saying yes and refusing him lmao i was being silly

“No.” You took his hand readily and let him pull you to your feet. “It doesn’t.”

If the air around you had been a little less foggy, you would’ve been certain in the way his gaze softened, eyes turning to a liquid gold that shimmered in the rippling movement, like light reflecting on the water. “I see.” Even his voice was beautiful, slightly raspy and with a growl in his words, like a symphony made just for you. “Then it should make this easier.”  His sculpted arms dug into your sides as he leaned into you, each finger grasping your skin tightly, a hold that would most certainly leave dappled bruises on your skin. He opened his mouth, and his words flowed thick like honey. “I’ll explain when it’s over.” 

Something pierced your neck, two fangs sinking into your flesh, and then threading veins of warmth spread like wildfire across your skin. His fingers grazed against your nape, brushing any stray strands away. Not a drop escaped past his bared fangs, despite the red that began to stain his lips. Swirling, your mind had gone white, and you couldn't even formulate a single coherent thought, only letting a soft gasp escape. You would melt at the slightest touch, you were sure of it. 

He pulled away, lips streaked with crimson, and let out a quiet sigh as he brushed his hair back with his fingers. “Shit, no wonder why Venti went feral. Archons,” His voice dipped to a lower note, a whisper. “Why do you taste so…?”

Venti, who had been standing to the side, glanced up with an unpleasant expression. “Ah, what a hypocrite. Reprimanding me with such vigor only to go and do the same thing yourself, how unfair is that?”

“I did it for a reason, bloodthirsty bastard. You just go and bite anything that breathes.” Xiao scoffed, exasperated. He glanced at where you were, visibly panting heavily as your quickened breaths turned white in the air. “My apologies.”

“What… W-What the fuck?” You pressed a hand to your neck and felt blood dripping past your fingers, and you drew them back with a flinch. They were tainted in a red that trailed down your wrist. You had to force the words out amidst your heavy breaths. “You… You said…!” 

“As I said, my apologies. This was the only way to protect you. A mortal cannot go unguarded in these realms.” He looked regretful, he really did, but his eyes were not one of a human’s, and his rich voice was one that had persisted for centuries. The diamond pupils you had adored so much in the seconds before now seemed unnatural, like a predator's, and that made you his prey. “In time, you’ll understand.” He placed his gloved hand in yours, yet you felt no warmth radiate past the cloth. “Please, let’s head back to the manor before they find us.”

Another mystery to unravel. “They?”

Xiao shook his head, his black hair illuminated by the moonlight. His hushed words came out quickly. “You’ve traveled into the wrong territory. I’ve risked enough retrieving you, and if we stay too long they might-”

“Ah, look what the cat dragged in.” There was a laugh, a chilling one. Xiao instantaneously glanced up, expression cold as a curse slipped past his lips. He swerved to the right to avoid a blade thrown past his head, where it embedded into the tree trunk meters behind, the wood shrieking as it bent into two.

“Stay out of matters that don’t concern you!” Xiao shouted, but you could read the signs of uneasiness in his stance. How many lay in wait in the shadows? If you ran now, would you be able to… There was a final snap as loud as thunder, and then the great tree fell to the ground, completely uprooted. Venti giggled childishly like he was excited at the predicament.

Your hands shook. No way in hell. At least in Inazuma, you could do something against the perpetrator, but here. They were on a level of their own, and they had surpassed the limits that the gods had set for them.

“A rat who has snuck its way onto our land is squeaking. Ah, my ears hurt.” The same voice from before, but this time it was paired with a figure walking out from behind you, causing you to spin on your feet. A glimpse of indigo hair, fluttering garments, dark violet eyes that made him seem more dead than alive. Sharp horns that sprouted from his head and twisted towards the sky, and a whip-like tail that whipped with every word. He brought a hand up to his mouth, his slender fingers curling cruelly as he barked out a laugh. “Ha! It’s as if you wish to die.” His voice was sharp, not cold, but distant, as if he wasn’t fully there. The sneer in his tone made it all too clear that he was getting a kick out of this, even if the spreading smirk on his face didn’t make it obvious enough.

“Now, now,” a new voice had entered the fray, and it was lilting, almost hypnotic. “Wanderer, you can’t be thinking of killing them now, are you?” Red hair. Red hair? Dark horns that curled above his ears, and a sender tail that bent like a question mark. Green eyes that sparkled even though the night had been coated in black paint a thousand strokes over. The boyish grin plastered on his face made his cheeriness prominent. “Show a little courtesy, won’t you? Even if his majesty isn't here, it still seems we have a guest.” His gaze flicked towards you, and lingered a moment too long. “You aren’t planning to keep them to yourself, are you? It’s been a long, long while since we’ve ever had any sort of entertainment around here~”

“Venti.”

One word was all he spoke, but in a split second Venti appeared by your side, taking you into his arms as he held you bridal-style, his touch much less invasive than before. The way he held you so effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing, and how his every step was so gentle against the earth, like the wind itself was carrying him forward, felt like it was second nature to him. You blinked up at Venti with round, surprised eyes, mouth slightly ajar as your heartbeat raced against your mind.

“Ah, poor thing, they’re shaking like a leaf!” Venti sighed, pouting playfully. ”And come to think of it, I’ve forgotten to ask for your name… for now, please say the word, ‘transfer’ so we can teleport to the manor! I only have enough magical power for the two of us, y’know~”

“Venti, don’t you dare…!” The angry one had stepped forward, teeth clenched and tail lashing behind him, its point razor sharp. Something about his growly voice made your own die in your throat. His brows furrowed as his eyes darkened his expression into a threatening glare. “Don’t even think about it, or I’ll make sure this will be the last time you see him.” His eyes directed towards Xiao, who was watching the two of them with a scowl. 

“Go.” His gilded eyes glinted, and something burning settled into your soul.

Wanderer let out an abrupt laugh, seemingly startling even himself as his frame shook to his twisted amusement. “Two against one, do you really think you’ll win? I heard you’ve been staving off of human blood for a while now too, don’t tell me you actually are holding onto your foolish principles!”

Your vision blurred. Your mouth felt dry, like you hadn’t spoken in centuries, and every intake of air was painful. You could feel Venti’s expectant gaze staring down at you, yet your heart wavered. ‘Transfer’… if I say that, I’ll go back. But Xiao, and these others… what…what will happen to him? Fuck, will he…die…?

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴛʀɪᴀʟ.

next

[names-for-alters]

Hello one and all, alters and headmates! I am Charlie! I like to make lists! I also hoard names! Are you looking for a name? GREAT! You can send an ask and request a specific aesthetic or origin of name, or you can look at my list!

With that said…

…Cracks knuckles…

Findo Tach Tails Flicker Tracer Kat Iris Blu Brick Arlo Sammy Artie Finn Stein Aleksandr Vora Olive Luna Nyx Cyrus Qrow Orian Cello Onyx Skye Grim Opal Dawn Azure Fish Bones Poppy Bronze Eggs Sparky Specs Snickers Trout Navi Bingo Chili Bandit Stripe Busker Socks Brandy Frisky Winston Lucky Chucky Bently Judo Rusty Max Honey Indie Calypso Striker Merle Moxxie Vex Ant Bugger Bee Spider Tails Hook Indigo Amber Coco Coral Scarlet Ivory Jade Ruby Emerald Chuck Loden Copper Hamelin Neo Shepard Cinnamon Visor Macalister Soul Hack Hiccup Flynn Rider Astrid Jay Raven Robyn Bolt Dagger Viper Tracer Cornwall Flock Sapphire Crystal Ghost Mochi Trick Catra Rose Raven Flip Chani Racket Red Crimson Dragon Runt Scotch Tellie Gator Croc Crow Goat Duck Creeper Kuma Jet Jeep Draco Poppy Sombra Raine Squish Spike Blaze Ender Drake Sandy MK PJ DJ CJ MJ King Creak Shadow Clay Dusty Miles Dart Willow Antonius Husk Moth Cypher Jin Yin Yang Daisy Gray / Grey Alistair Halo Angel Cake Fennec Fox Null Lull Bastion Lucky Sun Star Cosmo Tweety Vox Nerys Sonic Bark Birch Oak Cherry Blossom Peaches Velvet Shell Coffee Valley Fang Moot Redpath Pudding X V Jr Ether Fig Trunk Joy Frogger Snowflake Snowball Snow Jumper Racket Flare Vendetta Loonie Coin Six Eleven Tropica Stelina Mojave Ink Sud Fender Zero Pollen Wysteria Page Ozias Rex Tortch Buck Nickel Stripe Lynch Tramp Wolf Pup Tank Jhariah Kharma Zenith Sparrow Prism Lemon Mune Lamb Pyke Diamond Parker Graves Fizz Nugget Melody Tink Blight Fangless Ambress Vulture Eclipse Luka Bangle Constance Constantine Sommar Babble Clank Bobble Chipper Aidan Slate Tin Twire Zephyr Silver Misty Faunus Atlas Birdie Brook Cedar Chip Coal Daisy Ember Faye Fate Fern Flint Harmony Helios Ivy Junx Kit Lyria Phoebe Piper Lady Beacon Elos Rumble Ida Cross Zed Scootie Smidge Clauger Happy Sonny Hath Soldier River Song Clawtor Videl Legen Onen Chunk Reid Pop Cobra Cash Clover Saris Volante Donna Belladonna Gale Chopper Morphias Vidia Loft Kape Levi Licker Howl Dustin Newt Creek Breezy Polaris Blight Archer Sirius Warren Dream Goon Cookie Ranger Amity Jericho Viggo Besko Asra Alice Olaf Mossfeld Issic Missy Rascal Creasy Nonya Hex Pita Miguel Manuel Rayburn Daisy Dash Lucky Becky Steele Cylo Featherstone Kingston Netherfield Reacher Saltburn Quick Rubble Dust Brimstone Humble Ado Grover Norvanos Leshy Blade Cooper Calcium

Leo

Leonardo

Lebony

Silver

Linzier

Pearl

blackberry

Tatin

Bud

Raphael

Pebble

Mina

Linda

Oolong

Daeo/Dayo/Dao

Inco

Ketlyn

Risa

Ines

Lora

Flock

Lux

Rix

Reah

Destinty

Bet

Ange

Krixa

Lalien

Gloom

Bug

Rozy

Mars

Screech

Jenny

Robert

Patrick

Pierre Rosemary

Henderson

Mayfield

Sinclair

Sullivan

Hart

Solace

Daughtler

Stoll

Gatlin

Yearwood

Amos

Graves

Rothschild

Halley

Spektor

Presley

Redd

Blackwood

Notvletti

Valerie

Milo

Marian

Lychee

Aiden

Nova

Vel

Bel

Yuri

Puro

Pluto

Ramona

Angel

Nada

Shen

Mog

Hania

Udge

Kinetic

Kikos Wathel

Dupa

Sierre

Jimor

Teddy

coc

Scara

River

Shade

Foenem

Duck

Emily

Toast

Reunna

Ichigo

Rae

Sonic

MoonL

Lennus

cabaran

Marto

Leveer

Granite

Tongle

Gavril

Luella

Malachite

Leonard

[icanttalkimhavingacrisis]

Ain't it fun? - marauders fanfic - no voldemort AU - chapter 1 (available on ao3 here)

Summer, 1978

James stepped out of the car - the four of them had decided to rent an old van while the girls had settled on, well, a normal car - and took a deep breath, stretching out his arms as though to embrace his surroundings. Feeling the mountain air clear and sharp, almost melting into the landscape. Yes, this vacation was most definitely one of Padfoot’s better ideas.

“It’s this tiny village in central Europe,” he had said, eyes aglow with passion. “The only full-time residents are these two old squib families, and most of the houses were built by muggles. Purebloods used to go there all the time, before France and skiing and shit like that got fashionable that is.” Remus had raised an eyebrow at that.

“A retreat for purebloods? Aren’t they going to be a problem?” Sirius shook his head.

“No, you don’t get it - no pureblood family has been there in like ten years.” He fiddled with the wand in his hand. “I’m friends with one of the families there, they haven’t had any visitors in ages - it’s absolutely perfect!” James and Peter had agreed, and it had only been a matter of time before they had convinced Lily, Marlene and Mary to join them. They made the necessary plans, paid for the cars and cottage (well, the Potters paid - they liked the idea of the boys getting out of the house and having fun together), and made the trip.

And now? Now they were here - James was standing in front of the small, muggle cottage, nestled between the mountains, miles from anyone who could possibly want anything from them, the closest house supposedly not for miles. Complete privacy. Freedom. Peace. He snapped himself out of his thoughts and went to help Remus with the trunks.

—

“I call dibs on the room with the balcony!” Mary shrieked down from the second floor. James chuckled. He had already chosen his room - the one with the east-side window, so he could watch the sunrise. 

“Go for it, bitch, mine and moony’s room is already the best!” Sirius shouted out from where he sat on the high table.

“You're sharing?” Peter asked, mouth already full with one of the puddings Effie had packed them.

“Obviously.” Sirius looked over at him. “Why wouldn't we?” Peter shrugged.

“Just curious is all.” He walked out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. “Try to keep it down though. I'm next door and I really don't want a repeat of Paris.” Moony choked on his tea, blushing slightly as Wormtail disappeared upstairs. Sirius groaned.

“Honestly, what is that guy's problem?” 

“Oh, don't be too hard on him Siri,” James smiled. “He’s just a bit lonely I think. We all feel it sometimes, when the two of you are so…”

“Gay?”

“In love.”

“Ah, that.” Sirius nodded solemnly. Remus shoved him.

“What I mean to say is, I get it. Worms hasn't had what you two have. Heck, I don't know anyone who has what you two do.”

“Oh come on, what about you and that ravenclaw girl in sixth year?” Remus pointed out. James shook his head.

“Verity was just a friend.”

“We caught the two of you in a wardrobe together.”

“A very close friend?” Padfoot laughed. James plastered on a grin. “It's fine lads, I'm not looking for anything serious right now.”

“That's valid.” Remus nodded. “Remember I'm here for you though. Your gay werewolf godmother, eh?”

“His WHAT?” Sirius asked, with an air of mock shock. 

“Just an inside joke pads,” James waved it off. Sirius gasped audibly, furthering the feign surprise.

“Oh, so now the two of you have jokes together??” He shook his head. “I see how it is.”

“How what is, love?” Remus asked with a creeping smile.

“Well isn't it obvious?” Sirius sighed dramatically. “You're cheating on me with Prongsie!” James burst out laughing, and Remus and Sirius joined in soon later.

“Alright, I'll catch you guys in a bit.” James said, turning towards the exit. “Got to go on my afternoon run, you know how it is.”

“Of course.” Sirius nodded solemnly. “Got to keep up that quidditch physique, eh? Now that we won't have it in school.”

“Still can't wrap my head around that yet.” James shook his head, tying up his trainers and opening the front door. “See you guys later?” Remus waved him off. James stepped out into the warm summer air.

—

James let himself breathe properly again. The steady rhythm of his feet hitting the asphalt road like a metronome, keeping him tethered to his body, keeping him centred. Keeping him safe.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy being with his friends, that absolutely wasn’t the case - not at all. He loved being with them, if he didn’t he wouldn’t have come on this trip. It was just… well. He couldn’t properly explain it, not even to himself. It seemed, sometimes, as though he was an actor. Yes, that was a good way to explain it. An actor - and each setting that he inserted himself into, he donned a new character, a new persona to be, someone that could always put others at ease. He was only fully himself here - on his runs, alone. It was only here that he could properly breathe.

James kept running. After a short while, his breathing levelled with his pace, and the pain passed him by - this was his favourite moment of every run - and running became as natural as breathing, laughing, falling in love… James shook the last thought off. Now wasn’t the time to think, to wonder why he didn’t find anyone he’d want to spend his life with, why he felt so terribly alone. Now wasn’t the time for that. Now he was supposed to run.

The place that Sirius had chosen for their summer trip this year was undoubtedly beautiful, James had to give him that. The sky was a dazzling blue, brighter than anything Godric Hollow had to offer, the roads well cared for, and the mountains themselves - beautiful. Covered in evergreen trees, with the odd oak or maple spotted somewhere in between, framing the horizon beautifully. James had hopes to climb one of them one day. A swallow flew just above his head, a little river trickled by the side of the road. It was truly beautiful.

And then - James saw another beautiful thing. A person. A person in front of a cottage, one eerily similar to theirs - the balcony was on the other side though. Not the same. A person sitting on the boot of a car, smoking a cigarette, that the person balanced so gently and gracefully between their fingers, it could be an art form. A person with wavy, black hair that surrounded their face like a crown or a dark halo, a stark contrast to their smooth, perfectly pale skin. And behind that halo, James saw a flicker of green eyes - like emeralds, glowing and full of life. He tripped on a rock and stopped abruptly, awoken from his fascination by the sensation of gravel brushing on his face. 

The person walked towards his body, sprawled across the road, as James slowly picked himself up. The person threw an ounce of shade onto James with his own frame, and he didn’t want to leave it. Or at least, he didn’t until he heard the person speak.

“Potter?” Regulus Black’s silky voice moved through the air towards the other boy’s ears, both of them full of surprise and confusion. “What are you doing here?” James sprung up quickly and dusted himself off. A voice he only recognised from overhearing conversations between him and Sirius, a face he never properly had the chance to look at. He took that chance now - taking in every detail. He looked so similar to Sirius - and yet, so different. So much… softer.

“Reggie?” James blinked confusedly. 

“That’s me.” Regulus crossed his arms across his chest. “Are you going to answer the question?”

“Reg!” Barty’s voice flowed through the air, followed by his body as he left the cottage. “What’s been holding you…” he looked at James. “Oh. What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to bother.” James rubbed the back of his neck. “I just… went out on a run. We’re staying in a cottage pretty similar to this one, just up the road.”

“Who’s we?” Barty inquired. Regulus stayed silent.

“Well me, Sirius, Remus, Peter,” James started. “And then also Mary, Lily and Marlene.”

“Wow.” Barty shook his head. “All of Gryffindor Tower, eh?”

“Not all of us.” He smiled awkwardly. “Just some friends.” He nodded over at the cottage. “What about you two? Is it just you?” Regulus shook his head.

“It’s me, Barty, Evan, Pandora and Dorcas.” Regulus said. “Just the five of us.”

“Oh.” James nodded. “You should… uh… come over some time. For a barbeque or something of the kind. If you’d like to, of course.”

“I thought you hated Slytherins.” Regulus tilted his head. James felt a drop of sweat roll down his neck.

“Oh no, not at all.” he shook his head. “No, I just like beating you up in quidditch, is all.” That earned a slight chuckle from Regulus. James feared that his heart might explode.

“We’ll consider it.” Barty said, turning to Regulus. “Come on then, we’ve got trunks to unpack.”

“Bye then.” James waved at the two of them as they walked into the cottage, Regulus closing the door behind them. Just one more second of eye contact - of those beautiful green eyes gazing into his own. He was once more alone on the road. He looked back at his track, and kept running.

[this-aint-massachusetts]

FNaF movie hcs pt 1!

here’s some hcs I made :)

-Abby would be a gacha kid if it was around at the time

-Vanessa has anemia and she gets dizzy every time she stands up, and the first time she passed out in front of Mike he just thought she died

-William is obsessed with robotics and if you ask him about it he won’t stop talking about it for the next 4 hours (autistic William Afton real)

-Abby is terrified of something js crawling out of her closet while she sleeps and can’t sleep without a nightlight because of it (and the fear only got worse after Freddy’s)

-When Vanessa was a kid William sometimes just forgot to feed her so she would just eat literally anything she could find, editable or not. and she had to go to the hospital because of this multiple times 

-Mike hates olives and is so dramatic about it when he has to eat one, Ness will tell him that he should just eat it but Ness will eventually just eat it for him bcuz of Mikes dramatic ass

-When William came home after kidnapping Garret he was like “Vanessa I have a surprise for you” and he just showed her Garret in his car trunk and thought it was the funniest thing ever

-Abby chews on plastic 

-William told Vanessa when she was like really young all the gross details of his murders and she’d just sit there scribbling it all down like: “Then his brother ran after the car while yelling carrot, why would you name a kid carrot” 

-Mike and Abby once spent like 30 hours building a big Lego thing but Abby accidentally knocked it over and it shattered into a million pieces and then Mike cried 

-When they came home from the pizzeria aunt jane was just still dead in their living room and so Mike had to explain that she was in fact not sleeping

-The walls in Abby and Mikes house are really thin so Mike would just be crying himself to sleep and Abby would just be trying to sleep in the other room like: 😥

-Mike will tell Abby about some badshit older sibling lore and she just look at him like: 😰

-Mike uses 17 in 1 body wash, shampoo, conditioner, tooth paste, shaving cream, olive oil, brake fluid, lotion, lube, mouthwash, deodorant, milk, dental wax, eye drops, baby oil, lighter fluid, banana pudding 

-Aunt Jane tried to use the fact Mike uses 17 in one body wash against him in court

-Max used to take Abby to do teenage hooligan shit with her friends and they’d all have so much fun

-Abby would tell her bully’s that Mike and Vanessa both use weapons at their jobs and they will beat them up and no one believed her until they picked her up from school in uniform.

-The main four animatronics still try to play in the pizzeria like when they were alive but they can only play in the ball pit, Bonnie got stuck in the slide once and it was a whole ordeal.

k that’s all for now I’ll post more later because I literally have a whole ass Google doc so okay byye 😘😘😘

[adiprose-abernath]

Proof is in the Pudding

Content Warning: Hypnosis, long term weight gain, fit to fat, slob

Chris was your example of your basic gym rat. Wake up at 5am, start your grind and get your protein shake on. Then, it's the gym for 3 hours and then it's out for a jog. By end of day, he was burning thousands upon thousands of calories carelessly like the gaunt slip of paper of a man he was. One night, however, he gets an advertisement for Adiprose Adipudding, a new product from Adiprose Enterprising that was said to contain "4 times the calories as the leading brand and twice the protein. No need to worry, so whats youre hurry? Try our Insta-Pudding, Today!" Unfortunately for our skeletal sucker the word "protein" was all he needed.

4 days pass and a big box arrives at his doorstep with the logo of a friendly bespeckled werewolf giving a sly wink and grin. Excited for his delivery, he's a bit confused by the portions in small, individually wrapped packages of powder and a flash drive that says "WATCH ME" on it. Supposing its an instructional video, he pops it into his computer and presses play. The video begins with a superimposition of the company mascot and a recipe on how to create the Insta-Pudding mixture followed by a step by step tutorial. Regardless of how redundant a tutorial is for a 4 step process, Chris can't help but be drawn in the by the beautiful baritone tones of the narrator, mesmerized by mindless mixing and making and building and baking and, by its end, he seems to snap out of a trance. He looks back at the box and sees nothing but empty wrappers and...wait...what is this? He feels a grumble in his stomach and touches it to feel his flesh. Did he eat ALL of the puddings? That couldn't be. He rushes to the bathroom to discover his face covered with the chocolate and frosting. How is this even possible? Then the voice in the advertisement seems to waft in his ears. "No need to worry." And he finds himself relaxing and hungry. Perhaps another order will calm his suspicions

A few weeks go by with thus and changes begin to appear on our pitiful protagonist. His pecs begin plumping as a big billowy belly replaces the abs that were there before. His biceps melt and hang with gravity as flabby flesh hang from both sides of his arms. His legs, once lithe and lanky, thicken and turn tubby the thighs like tree trunks. His face isn't spared either as a small double chin rests under his lonely single. His cheeks puffen out and his face fills with fat. Every part of him grows and, though he won't admit it, he's starting to enjoy it?

Ever the dutiful rat, he decides to head to the gym again. Maybe that'll clear the headfog he's been experiencing. As he walks that way though, the adiprose jingle chimes along the street as a delivery van lazily drives along. A red flag in his head is ignored as begins to turn to the fast food parlor right beside the gym and go in instead. Then, after ordering food for people twice his size til hes scarfed it all down in a piggish panicked display as though hed never tasted food in his life.

This activity repeats itself every week for another two months, his belly ballooning bigger and bigger, sagging lower and lower His A cups turn to B and nearly crest C as his bloated breasts become heavy with fat and flab. His steps, when he can make them, are thunderous as his thighs, wide as oaks and nearly as heavy carrying a porkish portly poundage. His body is rarely covered in clothes but it is certainly covered in crumbs and frosting and sauces and food, his smelly form like a buffet of the food he's eaten. He wheezes, his poor lungs having difficulty managing a land whale 3 times his original size. Once a small gym rat of a meager 180 pounds, he flattens his former form with a fantastic five hundred and twelve, practically an inflated ironic icon of his greatest fears made manifest.

This is, of course, not the only case. For you see, the distribution of Instapuddings came with a special hallucinogen that would encourage the consumer to be consumed by calories and cakes and confectionary craze so powerful it made twinks into bears in no time at all. After all, what's the harm in a little self indulgence every now and again, and again, and again.

[lancermylove]

Chapter 8 (N.SFW)

➣ Pairing: Demon brothers, Royals, Solomon with fem!Reader. ➣ Warning: N.SFW ➣ Word Count: 2,341 ➣ Chapters [SFW]: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12] ➣ Chapters [N.SFW]: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12]

➣ A/N: I dub this chapter the talkative chapter. I didn't realize I added so many verbal interactions. 😅

———————————————

It was like a mountain of food, a veritable labyrinth of delicious delicacies. From candy canes to Christmas tree cookies to gingerbread houses, ribbon candy, pudding, sponge cake, pies, chocolates, brownies, and gift baskets were sprawled across the immense marble island. The array of colors and smells made your head spin, and in front of the Food Everest stood the Avatar of Gluttony chopping on a red and green cake.

"Beel, did you buy out an entire grocery store?" You asked incredulously.

"No, but he did buy out the entire Christmas market," Asmo giggled beside you. "The vendors felt blessed to have Beel stop by their tents. To be blessed to have met a demon...now that's something I never expected to hear."

Beel didn't stop eating but chuckled at the statement. The Avatar of Lust stepped in front of you, blocking your view of the nauseating mountain of festive treats, and held up a familiar bag of gingerbread men. "Sweetie, these are from Mary. She asked me to give them to you."

"Mary? The elderly lady we met at the market?" You asked, gently taking the bag from his hand.

"Yes! Her eyes were so much brighter now, and she even got a haircut. I did her makeup, and I can't tell you how many people were staring at her," Asmo said, touching his cheeks and laughing. "Who knows? Maybe she will find someone and won't be lonely anymore."

A part of you wondered why Asmo had taken such a liking to Mary, but it warmed your heart to know that she was doing better. Not to mention, the happiness on the third brother's face made you smile. "I am happy she is doing better, and thank you for the cookies. I'm going to go give one to Satan. See you later! Also, Beel, hope you are prepared for the sugar rush."

You left Asmo and Beel behind and headed to Satan's bedroom. As you approached, you saw him by the window, looking out into the distance. He seemed disturbed and restless but glanced at you when you walked closer. The demon's eyes held a faint smile, but his mind was clearly preoccupied with other matters. "Good morning, (y/n)."

"Morning, Satan. Would you like one?" You asked, holding the bag of gingerbread men in front of his face. He chuckled as he took one from the bag and bit into it very carefully, but his reaction otherwise was muted. For a moment, you watched Satan chewing and then voiced your thoughts. "What are you thinking about? Rather, who are you thinking about?"

Satan's instant froze in reaction to your question. While his instinct was to wave it aside with an air of casualness as if it wasn't worth much thought, the tiny flicker of emotion that momentarily crossed his face told you otherwise. You wanted to probe further, but the sudden honk of a car horn startled you.

"I have to get going, but Satan...listen to your heart. Not what you are telling your heart, but what your heart is telling you," you warmly whispered. Before he could respond, you quickly hugged the Avatar of Wrath and rushed downstairs, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

You ran out of the house and saw Solomon waving at you near a black SUV. He had invited you on a road trip, using the excuse, 'You need to get away from the brothers and their drama for a while.' Knowing Solomon would not drop the topic until you accepted, you had reluctantly given in.

"Are you ready to leave?" The sorcerer queried, and you responded with an affirmative nod. But, instead of walking to the driver's seat, Solomon proceeded to the vehicle's trunk. He opened the trunk, and to your surprise, Mammon was curled up inside. The Avatar of Greed was surprised to have been discovered and slowly stepped out.

"I don't recall extending an invitation to you, Mammon," Solomon said, amused at the demon's antic.

"It ain't fair ya get to go on a road trip with (y/n). I wanted to join ya. The more the merrier, y'know," Mammon nervously chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Speaking of, more the merrier," Solomon said as he opened one of the back doors to reveal Levi crouched behind the driver's seat. "Hello, Leviathan. I also do not recall inviting you."

"Levi? Mammon? Seriously?" You attempted to reprimand them, but witnessing their childish jealousy, you couldn't maintain your composure. The brothers were adorable when they got jealous.

"Let us join, will ya?" Mammon pleaded, his eyes growing in size as if trying to display his best puppy eyes impression. Levi followed suit to implore for your permission.

"Levi, did I interfere when you went sweater shopping with (y/n)? Mammon, when you ran off with (y/n) and left me to decorate the cabin's exterior, did I hunt you down? No, right?" The sorcerer calmly asked, his smile neither leaving his lips nor reaching his eyes. "So, now it's my turn to spend time with (y/n). Beel, could you please carry them inside? It seems as though they are having trouble walking."

In an act of innocence, Beel took Solomon's word to face value and hoisted Levi on his shoulder like he were merely a bag of potatoes. As the third brother squealed in protest, the Avatar of Gluttony wrapped his arm around Mammon and tucked him under his muscular arm like he were a piece of wooden plank. You observed the comical spectacle in sheer amusement, all the while trying to stifle your laughter.

Once on the road, you quietly observed Solomon from the passenger seat. The skilled driver was entirely focused on the road ahead while being completely aware of your stare. Finally, he asked teasingly, "Is there something on my face, or am I just that handsome?"

"Neither. I mean, you're handsome, but it's odd to see you driving. Are you sure you know what you are doing?" You teased, but he gave no reaction. The next moment, he deliberately swerved the car. In a panic, you grasped hold of anything within reach as your heart jumped in your throat and your eyes bulged out of their sockets.

"Maybe I shouldn't be driving," he teased in return.

"Solomon!" You yelled and slapped his arm, evoking a laugh from him. "My life just flashed before my eyes!"

Even though he initially laughed, his mood shifted to a serious tone as he spoke with more tenderness. "Your well-being and safety are my top priorities. I would never let anything happen to you."

"Aww, you're so sweet," you giggled, settling back in your seat as your heart returned to a normal pace. "So, where are we going? You never told me."

"Didn't you have a wish to see the aurora borealis?"

Upon hearing his words, you squealed in delight as it had been your long unfulfilled dream. Then, a realization dawned on you - you never told Solomon about this wish, so how did he know? The only place you wrote this was in your...you gasped, "You read my diary!?"

"Well, if you hadn't left it open on your bed, I would have had the pleasure to skim through the poetic pages," he playfully joked.

For the rest of the trip, you sullenly sat with your arms crossed over your chest and observed the passing scenery. The sun was setting in the distance, casting orange ribbons over the landscape and painting the sky with gorgeous shades of red. The atmosphere was silent, punctuated only by the gentle sound of the car's engine.

Upon reaching the destination, you scanned the vast area. The air was thick and heavy, with an icy chill that seeped into your skin and bones, while the ground was covered in a pristine layer of thick, powdery snow that glittered like fine crystals in the dim heavenly light. There was no other sign of life in this desolate spot, leaving nothing but a freezing silence and stillness occasionally disturbed by gusts of wind.

You sat on the bonnet of the car, wrapped in a blanket, as you admired the beauty of the star-speckled sky, unaware of the fact that Solomon was observing you from the corners of his eyes. The wait would be an ongoing affair and a risky bet, but you dearly hoped the aurora borealis would bestow its blessing on you.

"Hey, Solomon," you softly uttered, "Thank you for always looking out for me. You do a lot, but I take it for granted. Thank you for having my back, even if you do things to annoy me, like reading my diary without my permission. Thank you for being there for me."

Solomon was greatly touched by your unexpected gratitude, but he could not bring himself to openly express his feelings in response; instead, he resorted to his usual ways. "You know that Thanksgiving has already passed, right?"

You stared at him blankly for a moment before replying dryly, "That was a terrible joke."

"It wasn't that bad," Solomon chuckled and turned his attention to the sky. "So, how is Satan doing? I am aware of what happened at the lake. And no, I was not stalking you, him, or Lucifer. I happen to see you helping Satan back to the cabin."

"You always know everything that is going on, don't you? You should change your title from sorcerer to detective," you giggled and shook your head. "He is fine. Thankfully..."

"(Y/n), I am aware you deeply care for the brothers, but remember that they are far more resilient than humans." Solomon only sought to comfort and assuage you with his words. But in the next moment, his seriousness thawed into teasing. "But I am a human, so you can worry about me all you want."

"Yeah, a human who met the dinosaurs before the meteors took them out," you laughed wholeheartedly, lightly nudging his arm with your elbow.

"I am ancient, but not that ancient," the sorcerer chuckled and raised his hands in defeat, acknowledging that the conversation had reached a humorous conclusion. It was clear that he had lost the battle of wit but was gracious in his defeat and accepted being bested.

Your eyes darted towards the skies as you silently hoped the lights would appear, but the waiting time was seemingly never-ending. The quiet atmosphere, blanketed in darkness, only strengthened the feeling of hopelessness and despair. Your hope for the lights to appear faded as you brace for disappointment instead. "I don't think we will get to see them..."

"You know, along with your well-being, I also care about your happiness," Solomon whispered as he ruffled your hair. "We can't have you disappointed, now can we?"

With a snap of his finger, you perceived faint traces of verdant-blue colored lights emerging in the darkened sky. The display of colors became increasingly evident and more vivid as the lights gradually became more prominent. In seconds, the sky was illuminated by a magnificent and enthralling showcase of colors, as though it had been transformed into a mesmeric display of lights.

The stunning spectacle of colors and lights in the celestial sky had your heart aglow with wonder and fascination. Seeing how deeply pleased you were caused the sorcerer's heart to swell with delight. His hard work and practice had paid off.

"How did you...?" You muttered under your breath.

"I created the spell...solely for you..."

When the sorcerer disclosed that he had created this spell solely for you, you were at a loss for words. Did your happiness matter to him to this extent? You met his cobalt-shaded orbs with your tearful gaze. But before your tears could pour, the sorcerer quickly brushed them away with the back of his index finger.

Wordlessly, you leaned forward to meet his lips in a tender and affectionate kiss, letting out a gentle sigh as your lips touched his. Although the sorcerer was initially surprised, he quickly reciprocated the loving kiss. While your lips intertwined, the aurora borealis continued to paint the night sky with its beautiful and awe-inspiring colors.

In an unexpected gesture, Solomon has brought along camping gear with the intent of spending the night with you. His playful announcement that the two of you would stay the night with a smug and confident grin was accompanied by his reassuring words that he would accept all responsibility should anyone question or lecture you.

"Earlier, you thanked me for helping you...why not show that gratitude through action," Solomon teased as he sat beside you in the surprisingly warm and large tent.

"How, exactly?" You raised an eyebrow but chuckled.

"The choice is yours."

The soft touch of your tongue along Solomon's erect length sent waves of pleasure throughout his body, sending his heart into a flurry of beats. As your lips began to enclose his length with each lick, the sorcerer was taken aback by the intense and arousing sensation it provoked in him. When he said the choice was yours, the sorcerer had not expected you to push him onto the sleeping bag, turn your back to him, and capture his penis in your mouth. Solomon couldn't recall the last time he had experienced such a thrill.

A ripple of pleasure reverberated through your body as he dug his fingers deeper into the soft flesh of your thighs. His touch elicited an intense excitement that sent tremors down your spine and legs. He had not intended to spare you from experiencing the same thrill and took you by surprise by burying his face between your legs. The sorcerer eagerly moved his tongue up and down your intimate flesh, enjoying every second and reveling in your delicious taste.

Outside the tent, the harsh and unforgiving cold seemed like a shallow shadow that couldn't compare to the bright light of passion that shined within. The entire world faded away as the two of you got swept up in your desires to devour every bit of each other's being and melt into one.

———————————————

➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

➣ Buy me a Ko-fi?

[conkreetmonkey]

Interesting squirrels I have seen:

Local squirrel who lives a few blocks away but still within the same neighborhood. His tail is partially flattened, seemingly having been run over by a car while the rest of the squirrel escaped. The flattened bit, which takes up the end half of the tail from the middle to the tip, never seems to flex with the rest, and the fur has never floofed back out, but for all intents and purposes the squirrel seems fine, so I think it's just like that now. I see this one regularly.

Squirrel with no tail I used to see years ago, back when a sibling was still in elementary school, which is around where he seemed to live. He has no tail! The whole thing is gone, save for a bit of stump fluff that, without the whole bushy tail, stuck out and looked like the tail of a rabbit. Interestingly, he moved more like a rabbit than a squirrel, taking on more of a bounding gait than his peers. Also interestingly, much of the tail fur around the stump was white, which, among other evidence I have seen, leads me to believe that squirrel fur grows back white when the skin is injured.

Squirrel I saw once in childhood behind a local grocery store, who leapt out of an electrical box and ran away. His tail was almost entirely bald, save for a few scraps of fur that stuck out strangely. I love how he came out of an electrical box, looking exactly how animals in cartoons look like after getting electrocuted. Environmental storytelling.

The population of squirrels at a local playground that have black bodies and red tails (the black bodies aren't too noteworthy, as melanistic squirrels are actually the dominant coat variant here, with about 2/3rds of the grey squirrel population being black). I assume it was hybridization between grey and red squirrels? I only ever really saw them in that one public park, and haven't much since due to being an adult who doesn't spend much time at playgrounds anymore.

The two baby squirrels born in my yard in 2020 who didn't see much of humans and would spy on me when I went outside, thinking they were being so discreet by hiding behind tree trunks and poking their heads around. One was grey and one was black. I saw their mother teach them how to climb, it was adorable.

Finally, the one squirrel in my yard I once watched struggle to carry a chocolate pudding cup up a tree through the window for an entire dinner, then drop it, look down at the ground for a while evaluating his options, and then choose to leave it and go home. #relateable.

Also-worth-mentioning Squirrel Moment:

The time my father planted some seed potatoes in the garden, and the squirrels dug them all up and stored them in their nests. Then we ran into a period of windy weather, and for about a week afterwards potatoes would just fall from above like acorns.

[itwasnightwhenyoudied]

All You Had To Say

dean/cas, 2354 words, rating: T, s5 era, first kiss.

.

Dean pulled his Baby over—onto what was one of those areas where the roadside had simply worn down from drivers deciding to pull in there, just as he had, rather than it being a true, intended rest stop—and cut the engine on a deep breath's noisy exhale.

It was the delicious ember smell of late September streaming in through the Impala's open windows, then spotting that big ol'tree, which had decided for him that it had to be this spot. 

Baby, she now sighed and made her sexy little arhythmic noises as she cooled and wound down, click-clacking away almost as if she were trying to match the nearly dusk's ever-present cricket chorus. Dean found himself rubbing both hands up and down denim thighs and felt like one of the noisy critters himself. His stupid thoughts were just so loud this evening.

He barked out a laugh into the quiet of his parked car at the workings of his weird-ass brain, then brutally chewed some more on his already reddened bottom lip. 

Get a fuckin' grip, man.

He let a few moments pass, then a slight dizziness reminded Dean that he was a dumbass and that humans were supposed to breathe, actually.

After yanking the keys from the ignition, Baby's driver door creaked that homely creak when Dean hauled ass out of his car then squared his shoulders and set his jaw.

He began to walk.

You couldn't even really call the twigs and chicken wire that separated the road from the field a fence, it barely came up to Dean's knees. He stepped over it with ease and now trod his size eleven Loggers through the dust-dirt and crepe grasses, setting a leisurely pace.

That familiar smouldering smell on the still fairly balmy breeze was much stronger now and Dean pulled long satisfying drags of it through flared nostrils, wishing he could keep it prisoner in his lungs. Wishing he could bottle it, shit. He couldn't get enough of that burning ember scent, truth be told. 

That's part of the damn problem right there.

Mumbling, "Shut up, man," outloud to his stupid inner monologue, Dean now picked up the pace a little and tramped towards the impressively big Oak he'd spotted from the road. It reminded him of the one in The Shawshank Redemption and, well. Dean was never one to shy away from a good movie reference, so. 

When he reached it, he leaned into its body and let his feet give way, backside sliding down the huge gnarly trunk until he was sat, slumped, beneath the tree's sparse autumnal canopy.

He was facing west.

Dean knew that because of what was left of the fall's evening sun and how it shone bright in his eyes, painting the arms of his jacket in pinks and lilacs and oranges. He brought tired knees to his chest and draped his colourful arms over them, hooking hand around wrist. He looked up at the sky through slightly hooded eyes and more specifically at the wondrous mix of big, fat clouds and the more slender ones that curled around the horizon's edges.

The scene was like... like some enormous portion of pudding. Yeah, that pudding Missouri had made for him and Sammy that one time; it'd had some weird fruit in it with black seeds, yet Dean hadn't even minded because it'd tasted so frickin divine.

Passion fruit Ambrosia.

Yeah, this was an Ambrosia sky, if Dean had ever seen one. The tiny little birds flapping away in the distance were those little black seeds and the giant fluffy clouds were the whipped white creamy goodness.

Dean chuckled at himself, knowing he was procrastinating. Took a breath. 

More thoughtfully, he now carefully fingered the hilt of the blade in his jacket's right pocket.

Dad's jacket.

Funny thing, but Dean vowed to himself there and then that he'd take off the leather when he got back to the motel, and he'd hang it on the hook on the back of the door—and he'd leave it on the hook on the back of the door in that shabby motel room near Glenvil, Nebraska, when they left. And he'd never, ever go back there again.

Dean didn't need nothin' from John no more.

Resigned to that now-fact, he cleared his throat, took in more lungfuls of awesome autumn woodsmoke-air, and told himself to just. Get the hell on with this.

Standing again, he unecessarily cleared his throat some more, just for good measure, and rubbed an unconcious hand along the back of his neck. He then said, "Hey, Cas? You around, buddy? Kinda need you to lend me your ears, if you're free…"

Nothing became angel in a heartbeat, in a rush of unseeable feathers and lightning-charged ozone—that same charred smell that already lingered in the air, only much, much stronger.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Hey, man. Uh, thanks for the flyby," he smirked on autopilot, fingers trembling traitorously in their betrayal.

(continue below the cut or READ THE REST ON AO3)

"I've told you a number of times, Dean, I'll always come when you call." Such a fucking Holy Tax Accountant. "Although, I am somewhat confused by your request; I'm honestly quite unsure of how I would go about lending you this vessel's body parts."

Cas was. Outrageously fucking earnest as ever.

"Whaddya—oh, right, the ear thing, yeah. Uh, nah, man, that's just a turn of phrase." Dean cleared his throat again, even though there was nothing left to clear. "Listen, Cas. I, uh. I got somethin' to say."

"Well, I'd be a little put out if you didn't."

Snarky bastard. 

"Yeah, well, you might be a little put out regardless," Dean muttered it under his breath, momentarily forgetting Cas could still hear him with his magic angel-ears.

"How so, Dean?" Cas was now doing the head tilt thing and it was just. That was too fucking much. Dean felt like his melon was going pop and his chest was going to burst open like that scene from Alien if he didn't get this out.

"Thing is, Cas…" Dean now took the switchblade out from his pocket and when Cas' expression changed to that of his signature adorable-and-confused look, it was the last straw for Dean.

"Yep, okay, so there is obviously absolutely no frickin' way I can do this while looking at you, dude. Don't know why I ever thought I could. So, I'm uh, I'm just gonna. I'm gonna close my eyes, and pretend I'm on the phone to you. Okay, buddy?" and Dean screwed his eyes shut and brought his left hand, now curved into the shape of an old-school telephone receiver, up to his left ear. He felt like a first class schmuck but what else was he gonna do? 

The actual ever-loving fuck are you doing?

Dean ignored his idiot brain. He cracked one eye open only to see Cas had done the same as him, with the hand-phone thing. The angel's more-than-perplexed eyes were both open though, wide as monster truck wheel trims.

Dean scrunched his peeping eye shut again. He now absently spun the switchblade in his right hand, antsy, but luckily he remembered to breathe. He took a few big ones and tried again.

"So, it's just. Thing is, I—okay, here it is: I can't fuckin' concentrate for shit with you around no more, man." It came out much harsher than he'd meant it to. “You're just. Too distracting." Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He opened his eyes to barely slits.

Cas blinked. "And does Sam also feel this way?" he asked.

Dean cursed the fact he hadn't yet mastered the art of telepathy and shut his eyes again.

"No, man. It's just—that's just me. It's like. You're just so there when you're around, you know? And it's too much. For me. You understand?"

"I... do not," Cas said.

Dean took another breath—then it all came tumbling out like Jack and fucking Jill.

"Shit, man, it's like. You with all your shoving me into walls crap and your sexy gravel on sandpaper voice and your blue, blue eyes, you know? And hell, your gooddamn addictive thunder and lightening strike woodsmokey angel cologne which, fuck, I can't get enough of that shit?! And, you know, it's almost October so, like, everywhere smells like you! And it just. It just makes me crazy, okay? Like, I want... fuck. I-wanna-touch-you-and-for-you-to-touch-me-and-shit. But. But then, actually, it's kinda more than that, Cas, like. I like you. Like, like you like you. And I don't normally do that kinda thing. Did it once; not anymore. And... and... all of this is just really fucked up because you don't shit where you eat, know what I'm sayin'? And you and me we're, like, best friends, right? That's why I brought the blade, by the way, so you can carve your initials next to mine and Sam's on the inside of Baby, if you wanna. So you an'me, we can be brothers, too. Because. Because it'll be easier then. Because I know you don't feel the same. But, yeah. So. I just had to get this all out in the open, you feel me? So I could—so I can stop feeling all awkward and shit around you and just. Move the fuck on. And before you say anything, I know, alright? I totally get it and you don't have to explain. You're an angel of the Lord and you don't even know how to feel these things, and even if you did, you, like, obviously wouldn't feel 'em for a grunt like me and—"

The ozone smell surrounded Dean and the burning breeze whipped at his cheeks as chapped lips pressed, hard, onto his. Dean's eyes flew open to see Cas' face—all close up and out of focus—and his head felt at once like he'd been holding his breath for seven hundred thousand years.

Cas was kissing him.

Kissing. Kissing Cas.

The angel had Dean by the scruff of the neck, fists balled up and white-knuckled with handfuls of Dean's Henley and army surplus shirt and Cas, he was now opening his mouth, opening Dean's mouth with those chapped lips of his and fuck, his tongue, that was there, warm and wet and licking into Dean, licking Dean's own tongue and teeth and fuckfuckfuck.

Dean was being consumed by Cas.

Dean dropped the switchblade into the paper grasses and grabbed onto the meat of Cas's solid arms just as his own knees started to shake like the oak leaves above them in the breeze, shaking like they were going to give up on him.

Yeah, Cas was definitely kissing Dean alright. Kissing Dean like it was feeding him... So, Dean fed Cas. And it was all suddenly as easy as breathing and totally awesome and fucking sublime and the messiest yet best kiss in the history of kisses.

Dean was thinking of absolutely nothing at all and also of how he could happily do this for the rest of his days, when Cas pulled abruptly away from him. Dean, a damn near panting puppy dog, now had that fresh ozone smell—Castiel's scent—smeared all over him. He felt claimed. And he liked that.

A helluva fucking lot, turned out.

When he could focus his eyes back into reality again, Cas looked more than slightly irritated.

"Why did you not tell me sooner, Dean? We could have been doing this the whole time," was all he had to say.

Dean's brain shorted a circuit. Or all of them.

Cas... liked him back?

Dean threw his head backwards to scan the freshly twinkling stars in that divine Ambrosia sky and breathed in deep, gulping again and again for more of the vital oxygen his brain and body so badly needed to ground him in the here and now.

When he looked at Cas again and tried to speak, he only managed to gurgle out a his second strangled laugh of the day.

He wondered if he'd finally lost his damn mind.

And when Dean could finally think about forming a sentence, the words, "Cas, did God invent Ambrosia—or was that all mankind's good work?" were all he had to say.

After Cas informed Dean that he'd thought the reason he'd been summoned was because the hunter had wanted to stab him again like when they'd first met, the angel proudly carved his name into Baby's interior:

C A S

...the name Dean had christened him with.

Dean was very clear about how they were now something very other than brothers, though.

With a slight curve to those chapped pink lips, Cas climbed into the Impala, riding shotgun next to Dean, and Dean drove them back towards his and Sam's skeevy motel under that barely there fruit-whip sky that was now silently fading into a deep purply-black azure.

Dean turned on the radio and smiled when Cas smiled at Stevie Nicks's voice singing about thunder only happening when it's raining.

Heh.

(They both knew that wasn't strictly true).

Neither had too much to say to one another on the drive, neither—they both knew talking could come later. Dean had said so much before Cas had kissed him, and he was now far too busy experiencing Nirvana for such complicated things as words. And Cas? Cas was always happy with silence. And this one was so damn comfortable.

Dean tried his best to concentrate on the road but he couldn't stop looking across at Cas.

The Holy Tax Accountant looked happy, Dean thought, properly happy—for the very first time since they'd met in that warded old barn a couple years back.

It felt really, really good. 

Dean realised: everything was actually exactly the same as it was before, it was just. More.

Better.

Yeah, better because he too now smelled just like Cas—like woodsmoke and Mother Nature and Handsome Rebel Angel—and better because of the way Cas's gorgeously long fingers seemed to fit so perfectly between his own.

Dean nodded his head and smiled some more.

"This," was all he had to say.

.

[tigirl-and-co]

Middle-Aged Man (But Not a Dad (Probably))

Heyooooo, back at it again with a super rough draft for a fic!

inspired by @dballzposting but especially THIS post!

Basic plot summary is Trunks accidentally imprinted on Yamcha like a baby bird but is too emotionally stunted from growing up with the least familial family in all of classic anime to realize that he's being weird as hell about it.

To nobody's surprise, it's a character study! Woohoo!

And before we begin, I wrote almost all of this while dead tired, so it's probably even rougher than my usual rough drafts, but good god I wanted to write this sooooo bad.

Obsession ran on both sides of his family. This was an issue for Trunks, as he'd really fucking rather be thinking about quite literally anything else. But here he was, at the get-together-slash-party-slash-ritual-to-appease-a-big-purple-cat-with-food-so-we-don't-get-blown-up, staring at his mom's ex from the other side of the dessert table.

And praying said ex wouldn't look up from the eclairs he'd never be able to afford otherwise and see Trunks' stupid, stupid eyes staring at him.

But he did.

Fuck.

"Hey, Champ! How've ya been, Buddy?" Yamcha said, in his stupid fucking aging dudebro voice that filled Trunks with an overwhelming sensation of warmth and comfort. He hated it. Yamcha smiled at him the way, Trunks thought, a dad smiles at his somewhat estranged son.

It was probably a kinder smile than his real dad gave when he hugged him for the first time. Not that Trunks would know. Couldn't really see Vegeta's face, too busy experiencing every emotion he could name and also being shoved against Vegeta's inhuman, statuesque form.

It fucking felt like being shoved face-first into a statue, too.

Not like Yamcha probably felt, with his all-too-human physique. There was a softness that covered his features, even though he was still as tough and muscular as ever.

He kinda reminded Trunks of the big blue guy from Monsters Inc. But like, less serious. And very slightly less hairy.

Trunks had been staring too long, but apparently Yamcha was willing to write off the icy glare as a genetic thing and not an actual threat, because he approached the teen with no hint of trepidation.

He stood in front of Trunks and hucked a thumb at the spread of confections behind him. "Yo, you tried the weird cream cake thing? The one covered in chocolate? No idea what it is, but it is good!"

Trunks tried desperately to claw himself out of this conversation with "It's called an eclair cake." He wasn't sure whether or not he had meant to sound that gruff. Either way he sounded too much like his dad, and it pissed him off more.

"Yo, what? They can make eclairs into cake? That's crazy!" Yamcha took pause and then nearly busted his gut, laughing a bit too loud like guys that age tend to do. "But I guess when you're rich, you can pay people to cook up just about anything!"

There! An opening! Trunks knew how to win this conversation and then make his getaway!

"Actually, Yamcha, I think it's just graham crackers, pudding, and chocolate. Pretty simple recipe. I can ask the cooks to give it to you."

Yamcha blinked. "R-Really? That's it?" He sighed. "Well, as much as I'd love to eat cake all day, I really shouldn't." He slapped his gut, which jiggled slightly. "I'm at that age where I've gotta start watching what I eat or I won't be in any shape to show off to the ladies, haha!"

Trunks immediately threw his gaze to his shoes. He fucking lost that interaction, and now he'd have to talk to Yamcha for however long the older man could stand him. Fuck. Well, Trunks knew how conversations worked. He'd seen the guys at Kame House get into it sometimes, and since Trunks was no longer a child, he figured he should talk like that. The ball was in his court.

"Ladies, huh? What... sort of ladies are you into?"

Fuckin' killed it.

~~~

Now it was Yamcha's turn to be cornered. Was it okay to be talking about that kind of stuff with a kid? With someone else's kid? With the kid of somebody he dated?

But he couldn't just say that! Trunks was at the age where he was starting to go after the ladies himself, and Yamcha didn't want to discourage that! He had to find a middle ground, hopefully there was an avenue in this conversation that wouldn't lead to either of Trunks' parents hitting his head clean off his shoulders.

"Um. Your-" NONONONO CAN'T MENTION BULMA. "I m-mean, I like women who..." and how is he supposed to word this? Obviously he's not gonna say 'pretty women' because that would sound so damn shallow, coming from him. "I like. When girls. Can stand on their own... but enjoy having someone around to make their lives easier? I guess?"

He ran his hands through the hair on the back of his head. "To be honest, kid, I'm not really sure anymore! The more I think about it, the more I realize that sometimes people you think should work don't, but the real crazy shi- the real crazy stuff ends up better." Yamcha laughed the kind of shitty laugh you let out when you're nervous and stalling for time. "What about you, Trunks? You a ladies' man? Got a preference?"

~~~

Well, Trunks had been expecting an answer like 'I like redheads' or 'I'm a boob guy' so he was a little unsure of his next move, but he had to think of something to say!

"Um idk there's this one YouTuber I like." Trunks crossed his arms. "So you like women like my mom, right? It kind of sucks that she ended up with my dad."

Yamcha couldn't move. He wasn't sure he was breathing, either. "H-Huh?"

"Yeah 'cuz you probably woulda been a way better husband. All my dad does is train all day and then sit at the table and stuff his stupid face." Trunks put his fist on his hip. "You like watching movies and being nice and shit. I dunno."

~~~

Yamcha was desperately hoping Vegeta wasn't going to manifest behind him and reduce him to ashes. The things Trunks was saying were weird, sure, but the whole family had always been blunt. Trunks probably didn't mean anything by it. Not that that would stop either of his parents from hunting Yamcha down if they heard.

And Yamcha wasn't stupid! He had issues with his own parents, way back when. It's what eventually led him to become a bandit out in the middle of the desert for Chrissake! But he had just wanted to be a dude Trunks could come talk to if he was having the sort of human troubles an ex-evil alien dad couldn't help him solve, and apparently he had been too approachable. Or Vegeta really did just suck that bad.

Either way, oops.

"Hey kid, l-listen! You can't just say things like that!" Yamcha sighed deeply, trying to compose himself. He was still looking around like a raccoon that could hear hound dogs braying, but at least he stopped stuttering.

And then he saw Trunks' face harden even further, scowling angrily. The tykebomb looked like he was barely resisting shouting his next statement, and Yamcha was very glad for that.

~~~

"I'm not a fucking kid! Goddamnit, I'm just trying to have a normal fucking conversation, why are you being so fucking weird about this?" Trunks would have been a truly intimidating sight to behold at this point if he wasn't three-foot-five with lavender hair. "And I was gonna apologize for suckerpunching you that one time when you stayed over, but you can fucking forget it! I'm glad I punched you!"

~~~

The older man knew he had to take responsibility here, because apparently he was right and neither of the kid's parents bothered to teach him the difference in how you're supposed to talk to people outside your own home.

...Thinking on it, neither Bulma nor Vegeta had ever deferred to authority in their lives. Vegeta had a habit of trying to kill anybody stationed above him, and Bulma either screamed until listened to or flashed her tits at someone until she got her way.

Fuck him, maybe he would have made a better parent! Too late now, though.

"No, Trunks, that's not what I meant," he reassured the stunted youth. "I want you to know you can talk to me about stuff, alright? But maybe- maybe not out where your parents can hear? The earth dragon balls can't bring me back again, y'know?"

Trunks looked back up, waiting to hear the rest of the statement.

"And I mean, actually you probably shouldn't say that sort of stuff, because it makes people uncomfortable, but-" here he took the chance of fucking it all up even worse and ruffled Trunks' hair. Trunks didn't even flinch and Yamcha didn't know what that meant. "We're already friends, right? And friends can totally say that sort of stuff. In private."

Trunks met him dead in the eye, unblinking and unemoting. "Okay."

Yamcha chuckled unconvincingly. It fooled Trunks, though. "So, were you actually gonna apologize for that gut punch, or...?"

"No."

"So, what? You were just gonna feel like shit about it your entire life? Until you died?"

"Yeah."

"Haha, okay then! Did... you want a slice of this, um, eclair cake? There's not a lot left!"

"Sure. Can I call you 'Uncle?'"

Yamcha tensed up just slightly, before letting it drain out of him. "Not where anybody who might tell your parents can hear, okay?"

"Deal."

[finoalcielo]

SAW A SCARY DREAM

☆ IRREGULAR FORTUNE ☆

SHUN: Today's lucky one is April, May be careful AOI: Arata... ARATA: Mornin' Ao-- (stops in mid sentence) What's wrong? AOI: ...It felt so real... that bad dream of mine.. ARATA: I see. It's okay, don't worry. There's nothing to be afraid of (pats Aoi)

#Talking about dreams

☆ IN THE OPPOSITE CASE ☆

ARATA: ...... (hugs tightly) AOI: Arata, you're heavy and its hot. ARATA: Nooooo, don't leave!!!! Aoi!! AOI: Why do you watch horror movies before going to sleep despite knowing you can't handle them? ARATA: I thought it was an action movie! I only realized it was horror halfway through!! AOI: What~ (wry smile)

☆ SAW A SCARY DREAM ☆

KOI: Ah, I had a scary dream today... KAKERU: That's unusual. What kind of dream was it? KOI: Let's see... I went to a ramen restaurant KAKERU: What kind of ramen did you get? KOI: ...Soy sauce, I think.. KAKERU: What about the ingredients? What was in the dream ramen?! KOI: Menma and roasted pork fillet... I'm starting to think the dream wasn't that scary now. KAKERU: Ahaha T/N: Menma is a Japanese condiment made from lactate-fermented bamboo shoots. It is a common topping for noodle soup and ramen.

☆ SAW A SCARY DREAM ☆

HARU: ...(sighs) HAJIME: ... HARU: ...I had a bad dream. HAJIME: ... HARU: Please pamper me. HAJIME: ...(sigh) How many fried chicken do you want to eat? (I'll make some) HARU: Lots, please! HAJIME: (huffed laughter) Quick recovery (laughs)

#Give Gravi something delicious to eat and they'll revive

☆ SAW A SCARY DREAM ☆

YORU: ... ...gloom... YORU: ... YOU: ... YORU: ... YOU: ... YORU: I'd like to be exorcised. YOU: I'm not exorcising. Want curry? YORU: Yes please...

#It's happens surprisingly often #Best to go with the flow

☆ SAW A SCARY DREAM ☆

KAI: .......Ah! SHUN: Since you were having a bad dream, I brought you over to the Demon world☆ KAI: A dream, huh? SHUN: No, no, you're awake now. This is reality. KAI: When I'm with you, its hard to distinguish between reality and dreams. SHUN: "You're as beautiful as a dream?" Real! That's right, I am! KAI: Okay!

#When there's an unrelenting force in front of you, it doesn't matter

☆ SAW A SCARY DREAM ・ EXTRA PAST STORY ☆

SHUN: I cannot dream, nor can I lie. Because the dreams I'll see and the lies I say will become reality. When I sleep, instead of dreaming, I wander from worlds to worlds. HAJIME: Leave it to me. > A forceful good night SHUN: I dreamed of an amazing flower garden🌸! ! !

#Seriously physics breaker

> BY THE WAY, HE'S BEEN DREAMING LATELY

SHUN: I saw an interesting dream today~🌸 Kai was in the Demon World wearing his swimming trunks~🌴 HARU: You's been looking for Kai since morning. That, was that really a dream? EVERYONE: Shun-san??? SHUN: .........Huh? HAJIME: ......bring him back

#Everyone was there

☆ SAW A SCARY DREAM ☆

IKU: ... RUI: Ikkun IKU: ! Ah, oh. Rui, what's wrong? RUI: ... (sits) RUI: I should be asking you that. IKU: .........Ah, you can tell? RUI: Yup, of course. IKU: ...I just.. had a bad dream. RUI: Want some pudding?🍮 IKU: You're suddenly so manly (laughs) Sure, I'll have some

#Had a scary dream #Your partner shall cheer you up

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

You’ll need the context of Victor’s Springtime Revival Date for the phone calls as they contain crucial references. So, make sure to read the event story and date first! ♡

⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for content yet to be released on the global server! ⌚

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

[Note]: The first call takes place during the 12 days separation period, and the second call happens after the date~ ♡

–

【1st Call】

Victor: It’s hardly been half an hour into the beginning of work time, and a certain someone already has the time to slack off?

MC: Victor, how did you find the time to call?

Victor: It’s break time for me now. In just ten minutes of not looking at my phone, over twenty messages have popped up.

Victor: When I clicked to see, it was either a bunch of emojis or a link to a short clip. You even changed your profile picture and sign on Moments within this time.

Victor: You said you were gonna go to the set to supervise, are these the things you planned on doing?

MC: Of course not. Actually, it’s because I’ve been stuck in traffic for an hour. I haven’t gotten to the set yet.

MC: From what it seems, I’m only five kilometers away. But the cars at the front are not moving at all. It seems there’s been a bump between two vehicles or something.

MC: If it weren’t for the equipment in the trunk, I would have gotten out of the car and walked on foot.

Victor: Dummy. Five kilometers is not a short distance, don’t be silly.

MC: I won’t. I was just saying. I’m fine, I was just a little bored, that’s all.

MC: But hearing your voice now, my fretful mind has already gotten a lot better! Are you still busy, though? I’m not holding you up, am I?

Victor: No. There are still fifteen minutes left before the next session starts, so I can keep you company for a while.

Victor: I’ve watched the video you sent me. When I get back, we can take pictures of Pudding in that similar model.

Victor: About the three pajamas, the duckling set is suitable for wearing at home, and the rabbit ear set is thicker in comparison, so it’s more suitable for going out to pick up the deliveries.

Victor: Also, the travel blog article is too long. So, I’ll read it after the meeting and tell you about it afterward.

MC: Victor, I’m so moved… you actually read every single message I sent carefully.

MC: Although you’ve always been like this, at this moment when I’m stuck in traffic, it has a special meaning for me!

Victor: …dummy. The desire to share comes from an emotional attachment, so of course, I won’t miss it.

MC: Hehe, I know~ To hear you say that like this, it feels like being stuck in traffic for an hour won’t be so bad.

MC: …ah! The car is moving.

Victor: Why do you sound so reluctant?

MC: Of course I do. I was clearly hoping that the car would start moving at once, but now I want to be stuck in traffic for five more minutes.

MC: Like this, I can talk to you a little longer. After all, you have meetings these days…

Victor: There’s no need to be depressed. The break schedule for this conference is reasonable, and there won’t be any lack of phone calls.

Victor: Alright, let’s get to work. The weather has been dry lately, so remember to drink plenty of water.

Victor: I’m hanging up now.

–

–

【2nd Call】

Victor: I got your email. There were about 1 GB of images, and it took me quite a while to go through them.

Victor: So you’ve been giggling all morning today looking at these pictures?

MC: Yup. I happened to stumble upon this website in the morning, where you can composite images using special techniques.

MC: Users can upload images and combine them with the resources from the public library to create special effects.

MC: So, I uploaded our photos to try it out.

Victor: The quality of most of the images is pretty good. Seems like the technology of this site is quite mature.

Victor: However, a certain someone better explain the “Cat Victor” folder to me.

MC: Hahaha, that’s the set I’ve combined with utmost care!

MC: Although Rembrandt-style and Picasso-style Victor each have their own artistic beauty, I still like the little kitty the best!

Victor: In your eyes, do I resemble these pictures?

MC: Yes! Look at the whiskers; it brings the feeling of a little bit of grandeur and reserve, a little bit of aloofness, and a little bit of insouciance…

MC: Don’t they resemble the cat Victor during the Evol abnormality?

–

[Tidbits]: MC is referring to their Interflowing Date~ 

–

Victor: I think you’ve been looking at electronic screens too much lately, and we need to have you see an ophthalmologist.

MC: Humph. If you don’t like it, I will enjoy these results all by myself from now on and won’t share them with you.

Victor: It’s okay. I don’t dislike it.

Victor: LFG invested in a pilot project a few years ago, and it had a similar image-processing technology.

Victor: The results of that project, however, are mainly used for historical research and medical guidance.

MC: I didn’t know that you’d already set foot even in this domain long ago…

Victor: I’m simply in charge of the investment decisions, not the specific operations.

Victor: Anyway, compared to those pretty pictures, I like this “old age” folder more.

Victor: The photos have a strong sense of realism and farsightedness.

MC: I like them too!

MC: Even though the generated “grandpa” Victor has wrinkles all over his face, he is still as handsome and prideful as ever~

Victor: Likewise. Even though a certain someone in the photos is old, she is still very cute.

MC: When I was looking at these photos, I was reminded of our nostalgic trip a few days ago.

MC: In the future, when we become old and gray, we will composite a few “back to youth” pictures!

Victor: There’s no need for that.

Victor: Every photo taken with you will be stored and backed up securely, so we won’t lose them.

Victor: If you want to “experience youth,” how about setting aside some time this weekend to go out with me and feel the spring?

───

[oumaheroes]

It’s Just the Tip of the Iceburg

Day 28 of Whumptober

Anger born of worry/  Punching the wall/ Headache

Characters: Australia, New Zealand, England

Day 27

---------

‘Touch it.’

‘No.’

‘Do it.’

‘You do it.’

‘...No.’

Australia and New Zealand stared at the toadstool by their shoes, one of many others forming neat ring in the forest bordering their father’s estate. Somewhere near here England's estate ended and the common woodlands began but, Australia thought, this little copse amongst the trees was still firmly in Kirkland hands. It was far older in this part of the forest than the other, the trees left entirely alone for hundreds of years so that moss grew thickly upon some of the broad, twisted trunks like a green carpet.

New Zealand squatted down and held their finger above the toadstool’s dewy surface and looked up, ‘Should I?’

Australia joined them, ‘It won’t be poisonous.’

‘How do you know.’

‘Cos, I know.’

‘This isn't one of your mushrooms. Just because it’s not from your lands doesn’t mean it’s not poisonous.’

‘I know that!’

‘Sure.’

‘Touch it then.’

‘Hang on,’ New Zealand rolled up their shirt sleeve, ‘What will you give me for it?’

‘Pudding?’

New Zealand looked impressed, ‘Really?’

‘Only if it’s poisonous.’

‘That’s not fair.’

Australia shrugged.

New Zealand sighed and regarded the toadstool once again seriously, ‘Alright, I’m going to do it.’

‘Wait!’ Australia grabbed at their hand as it started to move, ‘If it is poisonous then I ought to do it first. I’m used it to.’

Before he could change his mind or New Zealand could talk some sense into him, Australia bopped the toadstool with an open palm and held his breath. Under the dew it was firm and solid, skin as smooth as silk.

Nothing happened.

Australia overturned his hand and showed the unblistered, entirely fine, appendage to New Zealand, ‘See! Not poisonous,’

New Zealand huffed, ‘Fine.’

‘Told you that I know what I’m talking about for deadly stuff.’

‘You got lucky.’

‘Now, I get your pudding.’

‘No, we didn’t agree to that.’ New Zealand straightened and glanced about, looking confused ‘Can you hear that?’

Australia stood as well and brushed some mud from his knees, ‘What?’

‘Bells.’

‘Bells?’

‘Yeah…’ New Zealand frowned and glanced towards the centre of the ring of toadstools, ‘Little tinkling ones.’

Australia strained to hear. A wind blew through the trees, light and quiet with the rustling of leaves in the otherwise silent woods. No bells.

Australia strained to hear. A wind blew through the trees, light and quiet with the rustling of leaves in the otherwise silent woods. No bells.

‘Nah. You must be imagining it.’

‘I guess so.’ New Zealand’s attention remained fixed on the ring’s centre, their expression slack and relaxed, ‘Let’s go and explore.’

Something twinkled out of the corner of Australia’s eye, a quick flash of light. He twisted around but nothing was there and he rubbed his eyes, feeling them water. The air felt heavy, all of a sudden.

‘Maybe we should go back.’

New Zealand didn’t answer. They took a step forwards inside the ring, eyes turning vacant.

‘Get the fuck away from there!’ A loud crashing through the trees, seemingly out of nowhere, and then their father was there, red faced and panting. He ran towards New Zealand and yanked them bodily backwards and to the floor where they sprawled heavily into the grass, ‘What in God’s name are you doing!?’

His eyes were wild, the whites of them visible all around the iris and Australia had never seen him so furious before. He looked nothing like the father he was used to seeing, nothing poised or serious or calm. There was something wild to him, something old and near forgotten that drew Australia in and locked him there.

Australia stepped back, fearful, ‘We didn’t do anything!’

There was a moment’s pause. Their father seemed too furious to speak, the tendons of his neck raised as he clamped his jaw shut. Then he took hold of Australia tight by the arm with one hand and hoisted up a now crying New Zealand from the grass onto his hip with other. Without a word or look back, he began to march them towards the house.

‘We’re sorry!’ Australia didn’t even try to escape him, too bewildered and confused, and tripped over his own feet in his effort to keep up. The air felt lighter almost as soon as they started walking and he realised, only then, that his mind was feeling clearer too. It was as if there had been a fog before, muffling all of his other senses that were only now coming back. There were birds squawking in the trees and their footsteps crunched noisily over broken twigs and crunchy fallen leaves as they walked. He had no idea how he hadn’t heard his father approach until he was right upon them, ‘We didn’t mean to do anything wrong.’

Their father still didn’t say anything helpful. He muttered something dark and old sounding under his breath and Australia didn’t try to speak again, lest this was aimed at him.

After about five minutes of walking England dropped Australia’s arm and looked backwards in the direction they came as if waiting or watching for something, still clutching New Zealand firmly to him. Finding nothing there, or finding only what he expected to see, he set New Zealand down and hurriedly began checking them over, handing them a handkerchief to clean their face.

‘Are you hurt?’

‘No.’

‘Did you touch anything?’

‘Jack touched one of the toadstools.’

England whirled around to face him, pulling him forwards sharply, ‘Where.’

‘Just my hand!’ Australia quickly held out his hand for inspection.

England took it, rough skin and callouses, and turned it over to run fingers across his palm and fingers. Whatever he found, or didn’t, seemed to relieve him and he released a breath, ‘If you ever find a mushroom ring like that you come and get me straight away.’

They both nodded.

‘I swear to every God that there is if I catch you anywhere near one of those things I’ll lock you both in the damned house; is that understood.’

It wasn’t a question.

They nodded again and followed their father mutely back towards the house, cutting off from the main trails to head through the trees, following paths that only England could see. Despite the early hour, once inside they were ushered straight to bed where Australia fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, finding himself suddenly exhausted. As he drifted off, mind slipping into dreams, he imagined that he could see small lights winking at him from the corners of the room, bells and laughter tickling his ears that turned sharp and hungry at the edges.

He woke in a cold sweat when the night was still low in the sky, convinced that the shadows of the room were moving.

Day 29

Full Masterlist

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"Well...there isn't just one story of...the headless rider, i-in her culture, I mean," she began, avoiding the term "dullahan", as she knew such beings: She didn't imagine Philippe de Clair knew any Gaelic, but she wasn't about to run that risk either, wasn't about to tip him off to this mysterious culture she spoke so vaguely of.

"Sometimes the rider is on horseback, o-other times, it's a coach driver," she continued warily. "I-It drives out of a graveyard and rides through the night, silently...it carries with it a human spine it uses for a whip in one hand, and in the other, it's own rotted head..."

The description of its decaying head was a stomach-churning one to Susannah; even now just recalling it made her stomach quiver, made a shiver race up her spine as she remembered reading that passage over and over again as a child, trying to picture the grotesque sight in her little mind's eye:

"...such a head no mortal ever saw before. It looked like a large cream cheese hung round with black puddings: no speck of color enlivened the ashy paleness of the depressed features; the skin lay stretched over the unearthly surface almost like the parchment head of a drum. Two fiery eyes of prodigious circumference, with a strange and irregular motion, flashed like meteors..."

She once asked her father if he'd ever seen anything like that, and he admitted that he had, in some of the medical textbooks he studied in his youth, textbooks that featured detailed (and horrific) descriptions and illustrations of bodies in varying states of decay and preservation. He had those textbooks still, up in a trunk in his room, and it wasn't until Susannah was much, much older that she got to see illustrations for herself. They did not disappoint.

"I-It's a bad omen," she finished. "If it sees you, or you see it...you're as good as dead. It was one of my favorite stories, but it...it scared the devil out of me. I was always afraid I'd see it one night, looking out my window...

...and I knew, when Mr. Crane saw it in Sleepy Hollow, he would be dead before dawn."

She suppressed a shudder: She enjoyed both stories, both Mr. Irving's tale and the stories found within the pages of her mother's book of fables, but in terms of scare factor, the old Celtic tales had Irving beat by a country mile. His Headless Horseman was a sight to behold, but the dullahan that rode through the emerald countryside were far more frightening in her opinion.