#he lost his chub when he lost his will to dream

[squorttle-pox]

Lucifer before the fall:

Lucifer after the fall:

[tojisun]

military man simon ghost riley x nun!reader

!! it’s all in his head :(( // prev

the first time simon dreamt about taking you—there, by the confession booth; somewhere hidden from prying eyes, somewhere he knows you would forgive him—he turned to ignoring you. he stopped visiting the chapel, stopped coming with johnny every wednesdays. he stopped coming to the local town completely, choosing to spend his vacation at the base instead, somewhere far, far from you.

his shame ate him up, consuming him one fibre at a time.

it was not that simon felt guilty for thinking about you that way—mewling for his touch, breathy in your own right, blinking your eyes up at him as you whisper his name in a voice so reverent, he forgets who it is that you truly worship—and he knows that was the problem. he held no guilt for his thoughts, for his sin, because simon wants nothing more than to fulfill his dreams.

he imagined it, you know? while dousing himself with the hard sprays of the cold shower, simon fisted at his throbbing cock and pumped his fist as he chased after the woman in his dreams, the one he knows that couldn’t be you even if she possessed your body or borrowed your voice. the one he knows was just a twisted manifestation of his fascination for you because simon knows you will never fall for temptation this way. especially not for him. especially not with him.

simon folded his body into himself, his head pressed against the cold tiles, grunting and moaning, too far gone with his desire until his pleasure tips over, spilling, his orgasm racking his body with tremors.

simon savours the silence of the yowling lust that was licking up from the pit of his stomach, feeling himself twitching with a sort of euphoric buzz, before washing away the remnants of his shame.

the next day, he filed for a mission across the continent and simon did not come back home for eight months.

he foolishly thought that this would have been enough to chase away the pooling storm of his yearning, but when simon returned. when simon visited the little chapel with johnny, and when he saw you once again, simon realized, with a heavy heart, that no amount of distance or time crawling by could make him forget how to love you.

that night, simon dreamt about you again. he dreamt about taking you—slow despite the ravenous hunger that ensnared him, and loving despite the blasphemy.

and when he woke up, simon basked in the glow of his euphoria, his palm ghosting over his chub. when he finally slipped his hand underneath his boxers, simon closed his eyes and murmured your name as he lost himself in the throes of his pleasure.

-

next

[sammysprivatecorner]

List of Fictional men I have a crush on because yes <3

#1 MEDIC - TEAM FORTRESS 2 (Lasted ever since I've known tf2 so give or take 3 years and going)

Reasons:

He's German

Tiddies

He's insane

Villain characteristics

Tall (6'1)

He's a DOCTOR that has a morbid fascination with ANATOMY

Needs sleep

Workaholic

Probably a coffee Addict

Sadist

AGE = EXPERIENCE Not exactly on character but I really love it when ppl draw Medic with a bit of chub, for example @/sNeighbrhood on Twitter has this Medic OC Emil, and he has chub and it's just cuddly idk bible accurate Medic has a bit of stuffing

#2 SAMMY LAWERNCE - BATIM (Has last since chapter 2 came out so around 8 years and still going!)

(Go check out my Sammy blog @asksamuellawrence) Reasons:

Male wife material

He a strong boi

Goofy

His VOICE AUUGHHDNJFKS

Musical man

@inkdemonapologist Human design for Sammy. (P.S. Go check out their work they do amazing stuff :0)

He's Insane <3

Villain

Tall HC (6'2)

Needs sleep

Grumpy ass man

Workaholicccc

#3 DR. SMILEY - DR. SMILEY'S FUNHOUSE (Lasted 3 years THIS GAME IS LOST MEDIA AND IT'S SAD TO ME)

Reasons:

Masked figure

His hair is so goofy

A doctor that is probably insane

Villain

ManlyBadassHero's interp. of Dr. Smiley's voice (Idk it just gives me life)

AGE = EXPERIENCE

Probably tall lmao

#4 SILCO - ARCANE (Lasted 3 years aka since the show came out and is still going quite strong)

Reasons:

Visual appeal

His VOICEEEEEE

A Villain (ARE WE SEEING A PATTERN?)

TrAuMa

His animation (I walked like Silco for a very long fucking time without even realizing it after first watching the show)

AGE. EQUALS. EXPERIENCE

SHORT KING (5'9)

#5 VIKTOR - ARCANE (Lasted since I got back into the show so about 1 year)

(I can make that exact face) Reasons:

Russian/Slavic in origin (AKA his voice)

Skinny ass dying man

Visual appeal

Queer Subtext??? (WAITAMINUTETHISISN'TMYBEDROOM-)

In need of a Divorce Arc

Will hopefully have a Villain Arc in Season 2

EVEN SHORTER KING (5'8)

#6 RUVYZVAT/RUV - FNF MIDFIGHT MASSES (2ish years by now)

Reasons:

Russian man

Tall as shit (8'11 and I think 9" standing fully)

Comfy ass looking clothing

A quiet boi

A total loner and Introvert

Protective of Sarv <3

#7 ADAM - HAZBIN HOTEL (Since the final episode of S1 came out so 5 or 4 months)

Reasons:

Visually to me he is appealing under the mask

Alex Brightman

I wanna steal his clothes

"Let himself go since Eden" WE NEED MORE CHUBBY ADAM APPRECIATION

I wanna nom his wings

His hair looks like ears in the photo and I wanna ruffle them

That thing on his chin Idk the technical term for it

Alex Brightman

Rock 'n' Roller (Introduced me to School Of Rock and Stick It To The Man)

Da Villain

#8 ORIN SCRIVELLO D.D.S - LSOH (2 years and going!)

Reasons:

A greaser

Has a fucking cool ass Motorcycle

I want to steal his Gender

I want to BE him/hj

SaDiSt

An Antagonisttt

Sick ass song (DENTIST!)

Goofy ahhh talk

Introduced me to Greasers and got me fixated on those for a while month

Silly ass death scene that made me so upset the first time I saw it

DREAM ROLE IN ACTING!

HONORABLE MENTIONS!

CONNOR - DETROIT BECOME HUMAN

RALPH - DETROIT BECOME HUMAN

GABRIEL - ULTRAKILL

DR. MASACRIK - PSYCHO CUTIES (I do NOT support the artist but I do like the show!!!)

Anyway Yah that's it, there's more but I literally haven't slept at all. Good night!! <3

[cherry-pop-elf]

Chubby George Weasley 🧡 Headcanons

Because Fuck You, I Wanna!

The weight didn’t exactly start, until the shop had been open for a while. They were put into a position of a very stable income, and didn’t have to worry about food anymore. Along with breaking some habits, such as eating less so Ron and Gin could eat more

Was more so actually healthy weight, compared to being bean pole thin all the time. Still was over all slender, as they did a bunch of Manuel labor and hands on work, just didn’t look like they’ll pass out if you don’t keep their blood sugar high enough

After the war? Yeah, he had to fight depression somehow. Baking was what soothed him, and he was also needing to keep the shop steady for a while. Until Ron came to help, of course

You still couldn’t tell he gained some extra pounds, given his attire slime him greatly, but he’s got that soft chub. That sweet dad belly pillow that every kid gets in their childhood, that makes it the perfect spot for naps

It more so went into his stomach, thigh area. Due to beating a beater, he had a lot of muscle to work with. As we know, muscle is still excess. So when it’s relaxed, it’s all soft and squishy. So he has a rather evened out chubbibess, which is why it’s hard to notice when he’s in his work attire

He is so cuddly, and makes for the best napping partner. Always smelling sweet from the shop, with that good bear hug squeeze. Given there is still muscle under the squish after all

He’s rather self conscious of going soft, but this man deserves to not stress about it. He’s healthy, he survived a war, he built an empire, grew up poor where food was always scare to begin with, lost his ear which made him partially deaf, and lost his twin. He’s allowed to finally have some stress off his shoulders

The children definitely love that he’s not stuck thin anymore. They can just run up, to their favorite shop owner, and get the best hugs EVER. Big squishy hugs, and the comfort of his warm personality

Because he went back deeper into baking, from the stress of the second war, you know he’s somehow mastered being a master at baking. You know you can count on him for the best desserts and sweets you could ever dream of

He is shy about his belly, but the kids certainly help him with it. It’s a dad bod. He deserves it. Stretch marks and all. The kids love hugging him, and it’s nice to no longer have to be so stressed on his appearance. The community utterly adores him, and will protect him as much as he protects them

Anyone who says anything honestly might get attacked by his employees before he even says a word. He makes sure his employees are provided for. Dental even! Bet your ass he’s the community dad, of Diagon alley

Freckled. Belly. Need I say more? Freckles, scars, tattoos, and a sweet little happy trail

The best hugs, the best sweets, the warmest soul. What more could anyone want?

Please tag me in any Chubby Georgie Art/Fanfics/Whatever pls!

((Yes this kinda stemmed from the fact it’s very hard to lose weight because of my health issues and I’m projecting, but also chubby Georgie hugs))

[n1ghtfurys]

For the record

Mentions a toxic relationship

(Also I've never done this before so....yeah.)

“For the record this is self destructive” Soaps tone is flat, this has happened so much he's not even shocked anymore. Simon's mad over you, you have a fight, break up and he comes crawling back even when it's your fault. You make him stupid and it grates on Soap like nothing else, the fact that you don't like him doesn't help the situation much either. 

“For the record I'm aware of that.” Ghost replies sounding exasperated, he knows you're bad for him. You like the attention you get, the way he fucks you when he comes back like he's hoping you'll see him as the only guy in the world and in a sense you do. You love him, you really do but you can't help yourself. When it's good it feels too good, so you fuck it up. You know it fucks with him and you know Soap hates you for it but you can't help it. You know one day he might not come back and that terrifies you, you're trying to stop it but old habits die hard right?.

Simon sighs and drags his hand over his face. He knows it's dumb to be so caught up in you but you get him and he can't explain it other than he loves you, loves being with you. Even the stupid bits where you decide you hate him, all the mood swings and screaming and shouting. The make up sex, the cuddling, the way you rake through his hair, how sweet your voice sounds, all of it.

Usually whenever you guys ‘fall out’ he spends the entire time fantasising about what he'll do when he gets back to you, that mixed with the fact that he was on deployment before your last spat has him reeling. He’s nothing if not pent up, the anger doesn't help either. He hasn't been able to get you out of his head, he's lost count of all of the wet dreams and the videos he's replayed. Some of them weren't even sexual, just videos of you smiling at him (from a vacation he took you on a while back).

He shifts his hips, trying to make the way his cock is chubbing up, again, from just the thought of you less noticeable. 

“Si-” Soap begins but Simon cuts him off. 

“For the record I've been picturing her body draped over the sofa wearing nothing but my mask.” He regrets it the minute he says it, he can't stop the way the idea of you like that makes him feel. How it makes his cock throb. 

Soap rolls his eyes and makes an exasperated noise. “For the record.” He mimics clearly annoyed. 

"I'm screwed." Simon knows he's right, he knows the two of you are toxic but he's addicted. Everything about you is so good, and maybe if he keeps coming back you'll realise that whatever fucked up reason you have for treating him like this isn't worth it.

Simon and Soap sit in a charged silence for a while before Soap appears to get sick of Simon's awkward fidgeting. 

Simon gives him a grateful nod before Soap pauses at the door, “For the record, I think you should leave the lass, no matter how bonnie you think she is.”

They both know it fell on deaf ears, not only because he was too focused on how bad he wishes he could push his cock into you instead of his hand but also because they both know he's down bad.

The way Simon's palming at his cock the minute the door clicks shut is honestly pathetic, he wants you so bad it feels like he needs you. He dips into the grey joggers he has on and pulls his aching cock out and gives it a few fast tugs, before pushing his thumb over the tip and smudging the pearly bead of pre like you do.

He bucks up into his hand, your name falling out of his mouth as he imagines it's your soft hand wrapping around the base of his cock. As he wishes it was your tongue circling its sensitive head. 

He drags his hand along the throbbing member remembering the way you clench around him. Envisioning your perfect form bouncing feverishly on his cock, milking him dry.

Before he knows it he's thrusting into his own fist, moaning your name over and over as if it will make his thoughts real while he spills over his knuckles. All while wishing he was cumming into your needy little cunt.

:(

[xxx-inhibitionless-xxx]

Chapter 26 : Day Two Concludes ( Aaron’s Evening part 3 )

 Are you serious, Chad exclaimed, now what are we gonna do ?

 Why do keep asking me, Emmett answered, just  look around and see if there’s anything else we can use. They both walked around the room while Aaron looked on unable to fathom why this was happening to him. I got nothing, said Emmett as he secretly noticed a jar of Quicktite, what about over there, he asked motioning to the other side of the room trying to distract Chad.

 Seeing the Quicktite had given him an idea for the revenge he’d been crafting from the moment he saw Aaron walk into their art class. It was too good an opportunity not to take advantage of. Aaron was the whole reason he was no longer on the rugby team and the chance to get back at him was a dream come true.

 The fact that Aaron was also currently shackled naked with no way to get loose was icing on the cake. To be able to get back at Chad at the same time was just too good, he had a hard time believing this was really happening.

 Quicktite was a skin bonding cream they used in the wood shop in case anyone cut themselves. The Quicktite was a quick drying bonding agent to put on the cut until it could be sewn up. Next to the Quicktite was the special salve you had to use to dissolve it.

 Emmett ever so subtly hid the salve and removed the cap from the Quicktite. Emmett knew Chad was gay and had always had a crush on Aaron, that was mostly the reason he had gotten into the fight way back then. He had been trying to stand up for Chad, but Aaron showed up at the wrong moment and was only witness to Emmett hitting a fellow team mate.

 Then Aaron never bothered to get Emmett’s side of the story and the Coach ultimately kicked Emmett from the team. He had been completely humiliated at having been kicked from the team, but today was the day for revenge and Aaron’s current level of embarrassment was nothing compared to what Emmett had in mind.

 I got a drum of oil over here is all, Chad said dejectedly, everything we need is locked in that stupid cabinet.

 Ok, Emmett said reassuringly, here’s the plan. You stay here and keep an eye on Aaron, I’ll go find the janitor to unlock the cabinet and we’ll get him off that thing.

 Hey, that’s a good idea, Chad admitted, you’re alright Emmett.

 Emmett had just gotten outside the door when he called out, hey Chad, I almost forgot, come here a sec. Chad stepped into the hall where Emmett quickly told Chad that he knew about him and Aaron, that it was all cool, and that he had always just been trying to help. 

 Emmett quietly continued to reassure Chad and planted the idea that he could take a little longer to find the janitor if Chad wanted to fulfill a fantasy since Aaron was currently in no position to object. With more and more encouragement Emmett convinced Chad that Aaron might actually enjoy some relief and there just so happened to be a jar of lotion on the counter.

 Chad was already half crazed with lust at getting to enjoy the sight of his friend and team mate naked and strapped in the x-frame plus having already taken his shirt off to wrap it around Aaron’s waist for the trip through the halls was too much not to succumb to. Once Emmett had turned the corner Chad headed over to Aaron noticing the jar of Quicktite on the counter that Emmett had convinced him was lotion.

 Aaron was beside himself with despair when Chad approached noticing Aaron was nearly to the point of tears. Don’t worry dude, he said in a hushed tone, I’ll get you off. Aaron snapped out of his depression almost instantly at Chad’s change in tone and wording. All along Chad had been saying “we’ll get you off this thing” but now he said “I’ll get you off”.

 The comment wasn’t lost on Aaron’s dick either as it began to chub up. Chad was incredibly nervous and was worried that Aaron might hate him for what he was thinking but noticed Aaron’s growing bulge which only helped convince him that Aaron wanted to continue.

 Chad reached out and grasped Aaron’s growing dick through the shirt he had only just earlier wrapped around him. I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time, Chad admitted more to himself than Aaron as he continued to feel up Aaron’s dick through the fabric. You want it too, don’t you, Chad asked Aaron as he ripped the shirt from his waist and threw it behind him where it landed unnoticed in the drum of oil against the wall. Aaron knew in his brain that this shouldn’t be happening but despite his predicament, Aaron was succumbing to the ecstasy of Chad’s advances.

 Once again fully naked Aaron’s dick was responding to Chad’s touch with a mind of its own. Aaron was lost in the ecstasy of someone else manipulating his cock while Chad was lost in the lust of finally fulfilling something he’d been dreaming of for a long time. Chad let go of Aaron’s dick long enough to scoop out a glob of the Quicktite he thought was lotion and grabbed Aaron’s now fully hard dick.

 Chad pumped Aaron’s dick a few times before wiping some of the excess lotion off on his back pants pocket then quickly went back to jerking Aaron’s now rock-hard cock. Aaron’s brain knew he shouldn’t be enjoying this, that anyone could come walking in on them, that he was still trapped in the x-frame, but he didn’t care, he was lost in the thrill of being jerked off by his friend.

 Thinking Aaron was getting close, Chad knelt down and leaned back against the counter wanting to experience Aaron’s climax up close as he continued to stroke Aaron’s dick. He could tell Aaron was getting close as he tried to adjust his grip and stopped abruptly as he realized he couldn’t let go ! What the f*ck, Chad said suddenly startled, I can’t let go !

 It took Aaron a moment longer to acknowledge what Chad had said as he tried to ask Chad what he said but only managed to mumble with the gag still in his mouth.

 Chad’s attempts to let go of Aaron’s dick only managed to continue to stimulate Aaron who tried to focus on what Chad was saying but with the constant tugging on his dick just couldn’t think of anything but wanting to cum.

 Aaron, dude, my hand is stuck, Chad was trying to get Aaron to realize what he was saying as he then tried to stand up only to find that his pants were stuck to the counter as well ! Aaron, dude, I’m stuck man, Chad exclaimed as he continued to try and get Aaron to snap out of the lust induced haze he was in.

 By that point, Aaron was beyond the point of no return as he erupted load after load of jizz right in Chad’s face. Chad temporarily forgot the fact that he was stuck as Aaron sprayed him with his hot boy juice. Lost in the thrill of what they had just done neither of them noticed someone appear in the doorway.

 Their hearts nearly leapt out of their skins as they realized they’d been caught when they finally noticed someone watching them from the doorway. What the f*ck is going on here, was all the person said with more curiosity than concern.

[notsofunsenpai]

George hasn't been feeling good about himself lately especially about his weight,he tried his best to go on diets but he just can't help himself when it comes to sweets along with salty snacks.  George sighed,"Why is it so hard to go on a diet?"he said annoyed. It's been two weeks that he tried to be healthy  but it hasn't gone to plan. He was lost in thought about what he should do about it when he felt his phone vibrate.He takes his phone out of his pocket and sees he had gotten an text message from Clay.

Dream:What would you like to eat for dinner, Sugar? ,:)

George loves this man but right now sugar seemed to be his enemy ,but thinks of what he would like to eat then replies.

Goggy: How about something healthy? Nothing to salty or sweet please, I'm trying to lose weight.

Dream: Awww,guess I'm off the menu for tonight? ;(

Goggy: Haha,very funny. Please,do this for me? I'm trying very hard to lose weight.

Dream:But Sugar Plum,you're fine the way you are! I love you and your body! I love those chubs and your chubby cheeks but mostly I love your thicc thighs! Any man or women would fall head over heels for you !

George smiles at the message ,god he was so lucky to have this man in his life not only as a friend but also a lover

Goggy:You know the best ways to cheer me up,heh thanks I needed that compliment.

Dream: I'm glad I could cheer you up! I'll be home in a an hour or two with some stuff then we can make dinner together! It would be so romantic!

Dream: little spaghetti kisses in candle light,totally not ripping that idea off from a movie, or we could make  something more green like a stir fry,we can have mostly vegetables and I can buy some skinless and boneless chicken breasts that way it's less calories,fat,and cholesterol too!

Goggy:Okay,either or sounds perfect! Thank you for helping me to diet! <3

Dream:It's no problem love,see you when I get home! <3

Googy:Okay <3

George smiled and puts his phone down,"I love that man." He says and decided to get up and do something before Clay comes home.

(/￣ー￣)/~~☆’.･.･:★’.･.･:☆ ~Time skip ~~~

George hears the door opening along with bags in his boyfriend's hands,"I'm home!"his boyfriend calls out happily,which made him smile. He takes a bag from Clay to help him out then they went into the kitchen ,"So what are we making tonight?" He asked.

"We're making Stir fry! I thought long and hard about it too! Even though I enjoy spaghett kisses, I love seeing you happy more! I made sure to get broccoli, green beans,brussel sprouts,and carrots with some soy sauce and some garlic to season with! We can roast or steam them that way it be more healthy! Also for dessert I got some pineapple and oranges!" He says grinning. George smiles at him and quickly hugs him,"Thank you so much.." he said as Clay smiles sweetly and  hugs him back kissing him. "You're welcome,now let's get dinner ready okay?" Clay said earning an nod from George.   They made the stir fry making sure to steam the veggies then season then slightly,and once the stir fry was ready they platted it. "Wow,this looks so good!" George said amazed by how good the food  turned out, his boyfriend just smiles sweetly at George as he admires the food. They soon begin eating and enjoying their dinner that they made together. When they were finish eating Clay grabbed their plates putting them in the sink then grabs the slice fruit he had brought and setting it down on the table. "Do you feel better ?" Clay asked taking a pineapple slice and feeding it to George who happily eats it,"Yeah,I'm feeling much better. "George said as his boyfriend feeds him another piece of fruit. Once the fruit was gone they cleaned up,and head to bed to watch a disney movie and cuddle. George was sitting on Clay's lap while his boyfriend holds him  giving him little kisses,"Clayy,stop it. I'm trying to watch Ratatouille!" George said blushing slightly. "I can't help it! You're just to gorgeous."Clay said then pins his lover  to the bed giving him kisses all over his body.  He kissed George's head,lips,neck,chest ,hands and arms, and his waist ."You're so beautiful. " Clay says lovingly as he lifts George's leg up kissing his thigh. George's face was now a dark red color, "Clay,you're so embarrassing.." he says looking away. His boyfriend puts his leg down and kisses him,"Good,be embarrased only for me,then I can be the happiest man alive. " he said kissing him again while intertwining his fingers with George's. "I love you so much George and I mean it. I'd do anything to see you smile,even risk my own life for you. I'm proud of you for going on this diet to better yourself,but I will never stop loving you and will always be by your side. No matter what shape or size you are, you will always be my Goggy." He said then notice tears running down George's face and quickly wipes them away and kisses him. "I..I love you so much,I don't deserve you." George cried out as his boyfriend kept kissing and wiping away his tears until he calmed down. Once George had calm down he sniffed then hugged Clay tightly,"Thank you,so much. For making me feel loved, I love you." He said with a small smile.  His boyfriend smiled ,"I love you too. Let's finish watching the movie,then we can sleep okay?" Clay said before giving him another kiss earning a nod from George,"Yeah okay."his boyfriend said smiling. The whole night was basically watching disney movies,Clay kissing and complimenting George, forgetting about sleeping,and cuddles.

[healthychildrenbook]

Listen, Learn, and Grow: Audio-Enhanced Children's Books for Healthy Habits

In today’s fast-paced world, finding creative ways to capture a child’s attention is key, and audio-enhanced children's books are making storytime more interactive than ever! At Healthy Child Books, we believe that learning about health can be fun, especially when combined with immersive storytelling. Our collection of children's books with audio takes reading to a new level, encouraging young readers to engage with stories through sound while absorbing important life lessons.

Why Choose Audio-Enhanced Books?

Children's books with audio features allow young readers to listen and follow along as they read, making the experience more engaging. The combination of visual and auditory learning boosts comprehension, helps develop listening skills, and encourages a deeper connection with the material. For children who may be developing their reading skills or those with a love for sound, these books provide a delightful, educational experience.

Here are four standout audio books from our collection:

1. Gloria Gator – Slow But Steady Wins the Race

Join Gloria Gator as she teaches children the value of perseverance and patience. With the gentle guidance of audio narration, readers will follow along with Gloria’s journey through the marsh, as she learns that slow and steady truly does win the race. The added sound effects of the marshlands, along with cheerful narration, make this a memorable tale for children learning the importance of hard work and persistence.

2. Chub B. Bear – Walk With a Friend

In this heartwarming story, Chub B. Bear learns about the importance of companionship and staying active. Accompanied by engaging audio, children will walk alongside Chub B. Bear and his friends as they enjoy outdoor adventures together. This book not only promotes healthy physical activity but also teaches the value of friendship, with the added bonus of lively soundscapes of the forest and upbeat music to keep young readers entertained.

3. Eddy the Ape – Shows How He Lost His Weight

Eddy the Ape’s journey is a relatable and motivational story for kids learning about healthy living. With an audio backdrop, children can follow Eddy’s story of how he transforms his lifestyle by making small, achievable changes. Whether it's the sound of Eddy exercising or preparing healthy snacks, the audio narration adds a fun layer to the story, encouraging children to think about their own health habits.

4. Floppy Flamingo – Finally Takes Flight

Floppy Flamingo’s inspiring journey to overcome challenges and achieve his goal of flying is a vibrant story of persistence and resilience. The audio narration brings Floppy’s world to life, with the sounds of the jungle and the encouraging words of Floppy’s friends as he works toward taking flight. This story is a wonderful lesson in setting goals and never giving up, with audio effects that keep young readers fully engaged.

Why Kids Love Audio Books

Children love being read to, and audio-enhanced books provide that familiar comfort even when a parent or caregiver isn’t available. These books offer the added benefit of allowing kids to enjoy story time at their own pace, while simultaneously practicing their listening and reading skills.

By introducing Healthy Child Books’ audio collection, parents can make reading an even more interactive and enriching experience. Whether children are learning about perseverance, the value of friendship, healthy habits, or chasing their dreams, our children's books with audio make these lessons more immersive and fun.

Conclusion

The combination of story and sound can enhance a child’s imagination, boost comprehension, and encourage a lifelong love of reading. At Healthy Child Books, we’re proud to offer stories that not only entertain but also inspire children to lead healthy, happy lives. Be sure to check out our audio-enhanced books like Gloria Gator-Slow But Steady Wins the Race, Chub B. Bear-Walk With a Friend, Eddy the Ape-Shows How He Lost His Weight, and Floppy Flamingo-Finally Takes Flight—all designed to make story time educational and fun.

Explore our collection and start your child’s healthy reading journey today!

[overgrowth-wc]

If only Piketail knew what a roller coaster was. He'd probably use it in a metaphor. 

              The only reason Splashpaw had let Piketail into the medicine den was because Grayfeather was dying.

              Illness had struck Riverclan early, starting with the elders. Piketail could only be grateful there were no kits at the moment as they likely would have been next. Splashpaw was using the empty nursery as a quarantine space, keeping the sickest cats in the medicine den under his close supervision. The little tom was working tirelessly to keep his clanmates alive. Piketail could clearly see how much it weighed on him. For the first time in his life Splashpaw was thin, his typical chub lost as he forgot to eat and spent long nights administering herbs, prayers, and words of comfort. As it stood, the three elders, then Pebblefoot, Berrybush, and Goldenpaw, were sick. Of them, Grayfeather and Goldenpaw were the worst off. It was strange, to see his mother so weak, and even stranger to see combative Goldenpaw struggling to breathe as she hacked and coughed and fevered.

              Now, it seemed his mother was close to losing the fight. Splashpaw had awoken Piketail from a restless sleep, defeat clear on his face. I’m so sorry, he had whispered. I don’t know what else to do.

              Grayfeather smiled up at him tiredly.

              “Ah, don’t worry so much, guppy,” she purred, the sound catching and turning into a cough. Piketail flinched. “We all return to the ancestors someday. I’m just sorry it happened so soon.” The old molly shifted in her nest, reaching a frail paw out to rest it gently on one of his own. “I do have something to tell you though. About your father.” Piketail moved closer at her words, curling up around her to offer her some comfort, sickness be damned. His mother rusted out another purr at the contact. “There’s no good way to say this. Your father is Lizardspots, the former deputy of Shadowclan. Frogthroat and Marshfoot are my kits, your siblings. It made me so happy you found one another.”

              Piketail’s mind tilted, and if he weren’t already lying down, he’d probably have fallen over. He had always wondered, a bit at least, who his father was, but always just assumed he was a passing loner. More so, he had wondered why he didn’t have any siblings. It wasn’t unheard of for kittens to die after birth, of course, but for only one kitten to be conceived and born was something a bit unlucky. Four was seen as a blessed number for litters, for the four clans, etc, and three was the most common. It made him wonder why he had been born alone.  But now- he hadn’t. He had a brother and sister, like he had always dreamed of, had a father who he could actually meet. And he had found his siblings without ever knowing the truth, and he couldn’t help but wonder if their blood had pulled them together, reunited them without them ever knowing they were apart. At first, he felt anger flare within him, that they had been separated in the first place- why couldn’t they have stayed together, as they ought to have been? But, deflating, he realized there were some practical issues. Namely, his siblings were the spitting image of their father- any cat who looked at them would know them as Lizardspot’s kin. Piketail, on the other hand, had the same fur length and color as his mother, and so could not be singled out as the son of the Shadowclan deputy. Such a funny thing, that their coats would determine the course of their lives. These thoughts rushed through his head like a spring stream, mixing and colliding as he tried to understand exactly what his mother was telling him.

              So yes, Piketail was shocked at the abrupt reveal of a mystery he had never thought would be solved. But there was a small, warm part of him, which glowed when he realized that he had family. Kin, and his own friends, and yes, he could admit that now, they were his friends, were actually the siblings he had always longed for. He stared down at his mother, eye wide and jaw slack. She returned his look with a smile, but her brow was creased with worry.

              “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I was always afraid of what would happen to Lizardspots if we were found out- the punishment he could receive for our relationship would be harsh. And when we saw you kits found each other anyway, well, we hoped that would be enough.” Grayfeather hacked again, this time the sound even more ragged than before, and Piketail pressed even closer to her. “I’m so sorry guppy.” Piketail lovingly rasped his tongue over her ears, pressing his face into her neck.

              “Don’t be sorry, ma,” he whispered. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not upset, in fact- this, this is the best news I’ve heard in a while.” His throat grew tight, and he pulled back, giving her a tremulous smile. “I always did want siblings, you know.” Grayfeather choked out a laugh, some tension leaving her shoulders.

              “Good, good. I didn’t want to die without letting you know the truth.” She sighed as Piketail let out a whine, panic licking at his chest as her eyes started to droop.

              “Ma, wait, come on. You- please don’t, I still need you.” Piketail hated how weak he sounded but by the stars, he couldn’t lose his mother. She was everything to him- how could he go on without knowing she was there? Grayfeather forced her eyes open, giving him a loving blink.

              “Come now darling, you’re a strong young tom. You haven’t needed me for a while, and I know you will do just fine when I’m gone. And we’ll see each other again.” Her eyes began to slide close once more, and she began to lean more heavily into him. “Will you promise me something, dear?” She murmured. He swallowed hard.

              “Of course. Anything.”

              “Give my love to your father, and your brother and sister. Tell them I’m proud of them, and I can’t wait to one day meet them and spend the time with them I wish we always had.” Grayfeather seemed to struggle to catch her breath at this point, but she lifted her head to look at him once more. “And I love you, darling. So much. I’m so happy you’re my son.”

              “I love you too, mama. Thank you, for everything.” Piketail whispered, voice cracking and throat so tight he could barely breathe. Grayfeather purred, slumped fully against him, coughed once, twice, and was still.

              Piketail sat numbly a short distance from his mother’s body, the predawn sky dark above him, only a few stars left twinkling in the blackness. Grayfeather’s vigil was nearing its end. Splashpaw had rubbed her fur with rosemary and sage before carefully helping Piketail move her body to the clearing so the whole clan could mourn her properly. A few warriors had gone out to dig a grave for her, but the rest were lingering around the clearing in small groups, coming up to bid goodbye to her in dribs and drabs. His clanmates offered him condolences and murmured words of comfort, which he accepted gratefully. While he wasn’t close to them, they were still clanmates, and he knew they cared for him in some way, just as he did for them. Piketail knew their concern and well wishes were genuine. Littlepaw was steadfast beside him, quietly lending his support. His apprentice was no longer the tiny fluffball who he had taken into his care all those moons ago. He stood almost as tall as Piketail now, kitten fluff transforming into a sleek coat. It would be less than two moons before he would be a warrior, if Piketail was right in his guess. They’d have to start thinking of assessments soon.

              His thoughts were wandering but Piketail let them, anything to distract from the fact that three of the cats he cared for the most were now dead. But there was a small light of hope there- he had more family. Maybe, just maybe, he could…

              Squirrelnose was coming up to him, each step cautious and face uncertain. Littlepaw looked up at him, brow furrowed, but Piketail shook his head at the unspoken question.

              “Why don’t you go check on Splashpaw and Ripplepaw,” he murmured, voice more of a dry rasp than anything. “I’m sure Ripple could use your help comforting him.” Littlepaw continued to look at him, eyes darting around his face, then nodded slowly. The golden tom rubbed himself along his mentor’s flank before trotting off, and Piketail looked up to make eye contact with his former best friend.

              The ginger tom had come a halt in front of him, and Piketail was distantly surprised to see the guilt and pain that swirled in his gaze. It had been years since Squirrelnose had really looked at him, and his face was always carefully blank. Now it was open in a way that left Piketail almost uncomfortable.

              “Piketail,” he greeted softly. “I’m so sorry for your loss, and…” Squirrelnose shifted uncomfortably.

              “I’m sorry for your mother’s illness as well,” Piketail offered. He could be polite, and honestly, he did worry about Berrybush. In her favor, at least, she was still fairly young- his own mother had been older when she had him, but Berrybush had been a young queen. Her odds were good in beating her illness. “I hope she recovers quickly.” He finished, eye darting away. Piketail heard the other tom sigh.

              “Piketail, I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.” Piketail couldn’t help but look back up in surprise. Squirrelnose looked bereft, guilt and determination bright in his eyes. “I’m sorry I was a coward, and I ran away and left you and Swanpaw behind. I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough to make it worth it. I’m sorry I abandoned you when you most needed a friend, and I’m sorry I’ve let my own guilt and resentment get in the way of apologizing when I should have. I’m sorry for ignoring you all these years. And I’m also sorry I’m doing this now instead of a better time. I’m just… sorry.” Piketail could only blink, reeling at the ginger tom’s flood of words. One, because today was already a mess and this was only adding to it, and two, because all these years he thought Squirrelnose avoided him because he hated his guts, not because the other tom felt guilty.

              “I thought you hated me,” Piketail blurted, eye wide and searching. “I thought you blamed me for not saving Swanpaw. That you were angry she died and I lived.” Squirrelnose pinned his ears back.

              “I won’t lie, I did resent you at first, but I only ever hated myself.” He grinned bitterly. “And let’s face it- it was Swanpaw’s idea to go there in the first place. You only ever tried to keep her safe. I could never hate you for that. Maybe, if I had stayed, she’d still be alive.”

              “Or you’d both be dead.” Piketail murmured. “Even when I was angry with you for running, I was happy that at least you were still alive.” Both toms lapsed into silence, eyeing each other carefully.

              When Piketail was young, he had planned out his whole life. He and Swanpaw would grow up to become mates. Squirrelnose would find some pretty young molly, and their children would all be friends. Squirrelnose would become deputy, because let’s face it, everyone knew his uncle Coppertail was training him for the position, and when he became leader he would make Piketail his deputy. And then they would all be together, a family like he’d always dreamed, and Riverclan would be all the better for it.

              That dream had died the second that dog stepped out of the hedges and snatched Swanpaw, when Piketail had called for his friend to aid him and instead been met with the sight of him running away, a view quickly blocked by the other dog emerging from the shadows. He had thought he would die then, and at least he and Swanpaw could be together, but he had lived, and he had hated himself for it. When Squirrelnose had avoided him like some plague-ridden fox, Piketail had thought his best friend hated him too, was disgusted with him for his failure. His own relief at seeing Squirrelnose unharmed had been clawed at by the resentment that settled in his chest that maybe, maybe, if his friend had stayed, Swanpaw would still be alive. But Piketail knew now that it was more likely they all would have died. The warriors would not have known to look for them until it was much too late, and in running Squirrelnose had not only saved his own life, but Piketail’s as well.

              He had learned to be grateful for it.

              Piketail sighed. He didn’t know if he and Squirrelnose would ever really be friends again, especially if the nebulous plan kicking around in the back of his head came to fruition. But they didn’t have to be cold to each other anymore either.

              “Thank you,” he said, looking Squirrelnose right in the eye, “for saving my life.” The ginger tom stared at him for a moment, emotion welling in his eyes, before clearing his throat.

              “Thank you,” he replied, “for protecting Swanpaw when I didn’t.” Piketail nodded, Squirrelnose nodded in return, and, well. That was that. Squirrelnose padded away, and Piketail stared down at his paws, feeling better and worse than he had in a long time. His mother was dead. So was Reedpelt, and Swanpaw. But he had a family, whom he already loved. He had made strides towards mending his relationship with his old best friend. And now, just maybe, he had a future to look forward to.

              Although that would be dependent on speaking to Rosestar.

              Piketail looked up as Splashpaw slowly made his way towards Grayfeather’s body. It was a pity, that so much was riding on one so young, but the silver tom held his head high. His yellow eyes gleamed with grief and determination in the shadows of the night, and when he spoke, his clear voice carried across the camp.

              “We gather now, to pray for Grayfeather’s safe journey to the ancestors.”

              The clan crowded forward, leaving space for Piketail to come and take his spot next to Splashpaw. It was customary for the family of the deceased to lead the prayers alongside the medicine cat, but Piketail didn’t know if he’d be able to speak around the rock that had taken up residence in his throat.

              “Glorious ancestors,” Splashpaw began, “we bid you welcome this warrior into your clan. Grayfeather served her clan here faithfully, following in River’s footsteps to become a cat of noble worth, who abided by the Code he set forth and the statutes given to us by you. Send your messenger to lead her home. Give comfort to those who loved her in this time of pain and grief. When our own time comes, we ask that Grayfeather be there to welcome us as a member of your ranks. Grayfeather,” he continued, eyes not on her body but the sky above, “you have fulfilled your oaths. With the well wishes of your loved ones, go forth to your home amongst the stars.”

              There were many things that may cause a cat’s spirit to linger. Those who did not honor Starclan in life would find it difficult to locate their hunting grounds after death. The very young were easily distracted and may not understand the situation they found themselves in, making them prone to wandering. Those who were murdered were prevented from rest until justice was served, as were those who had other important unfinished business. And then, there were those who may worry too much for those they left behind, making them linger longer than they should. Piketail’s role in this ceremony was to ensure his mother’s spirit did not feel like she needed to tarry, instead encouraging her to make her way to the stars.

              “Mother, worry not for me. Return to the stars with my love and my blessing.” A simple prayer, but it did its job. Splashpaw blinked comfortingly at Piketail before he went on.

              “As the stars fade into the morning light, we pray you journey with them. May you be at peace.” With that, Oakstar let out a yowl, leading his clan in chanting the deceased elder’s name. Piketail tried to join in but couldn’t, grief finally choking the voice out of him. Splashpaw leaned up against him, and Piketail pressed his head up against the little tom’s.

              “Thank you, for everything you did for her. And for giving me a chance to say goodbye.” He whispered. Splashpaw didn’t reply, merely forcing out a comforting purr. After a moment Piketail straightened, taking a deep breath before he joined a few other warriors in picking up Grayfeather’s body. They would bury her as the sun rose, and then it would be finished.

________________________________________________________________

              It had been a somber task. Piketail had taken care to place an oyster shell on his mother’s grave, which he had taken from her nest, as she had always been fascinated by the way the shell on the inside them shimmered and gleamed. She had compared him to an oyster once, which he had been mildly offended by- but, in the end, he appreciated the point she was trying to make. Piketail touched his nose to the shell before turning slowly away. The others had left by now, giving him gentle nudges as they went, and now he was alone in the graveyard. As he walked away from his mother’s grave, he made sure to stop by Swanpaw’s. The feather pinned under the rocks was new and whole, but he wasn’t the one to have put it there. In fact, it'd almost been a moon since he had visited her grave, and he was so tired that only a little guilt nipped at his stomach when he thought of it. It was good, though, that someone else was taking care of her when he couldn’t- probably Squirrelnose, or Berrybush. Piketail had sometimes forgotten in the midst of his own grief that other cats had loved her too, missed her just as much as he did. Now, he would have to accept the fact that he was leaving her in their capable paws.

              Piketail was going to ask to join Shadowclan.

              He’d wait, of course, until Littlepaw was made a warrior, and make sure the clan was fine for the rest of winter, but that wouldn’t be too long now. And, he’d have to talk to Rosestar and Oakstar about making the switch. Piketail just hoped that Rosestar wouldn’t be mad at his half-clan heritage. Then again, his siblings, and wasn’t that a wonderful word, had told him of Rosestar’s heritage- a kittypet kit, given to the clan alongside his sister, as their mother had grown tired of her twolegs stealing her children away. She hadn’t joined herself, sure she wouldn’t be able to survive in the wild, but she wanted at least one litter she could still visit. It explained his strange fur, which was curly like a sheep, and his odd coloring, with just his limbs, face and ears having color. That pattern sometimes showed up in the clans, but was more indicative of loner or kittypet heritage than anything. It was also why he knew Briarmask had to be a relative of Rosestar’s- no other family in the forest looked like them. And by all accounts Lizardspots was the leader’s best friend, and he had recently retired from the deputy position, so that shouldn’t be an issue. Hopefully, he would hear Piketail out.

              But there was time for that later, and there were much more pressing issues now. Gently touching his nose to the feather, and casting one last look over his shoulder towards his mother’s grave, Piketail set back off towards camp.

________________________________________________________________

              He had hunted on his way home, managing to bring back a scrawny squirrel and a mouse. It had finally started snowing in the last half moon, and land prey was becoming harder to find. Still, he had at least been able to catch something. Upon reentry into camp, he saw Berrybush outside the quarantine den, looking better than she had in days. Splashpaw was speaking to her quietly, and as Piketail approached, she dipped her head to the apprentice and slowly walked off towards the elder’s den. Splashpaw flicked an ear at Piketail’s approach, turning to give the warrior a weary smile.

              “Berrybush is doing a lot better, but I don’t want to put her back in the warrior’s den just yet,” he mewed as Piketail stopped next to him, gently setting down the prey he carried. “With the elders still being sick their den is empty, so I thought I could use it as a transition den for the recovering cats. So they aren’t being exposed to the illness again while also not giving it to anyone else.” Piketail purred, giving the silver tom a supportive nudge.

              “Smart,” he praised, and Splashpaw’s tailed curled in pride. “Might as well make use of the space, huh? How are the rest of them doing?” Splashpaw deflated a little at that, shaking his head.

              “Not better, but not worse, so I’ll take it.” His brow furrowed in thought, yellow eyes darting back towards the medicine den. “Goldenpaw’s chest is clearing up, but her fevers are… bad.” A hard swallow. “I’m trying everything I can, but we don’t have any borage and I’m running out of other options.” Piketail ran his tail comfortingly down Splashpaw’s side, but he couldn’t help but worry as well. Goldenpaw was a thorn in his side, and the side of many, but that didn’t mean he wanted anything bad for her. Bratty apprentices deserved the chance to grow into confident warriors. He prayed that her fever would break soon, and she could get back on her feet and start harassing her fellow apprentices again. Speaking of…

              “Do you know where Littlepaw is?” His apprentice had been doing quite admirably lately, and Piketail was sending him to hunt on his own more and more often. The golden tabby was an excellent land prey hunter, which was what they really needed for the Leafbare. By splitting up they were able to cover more hunting grounds, and Piketail was more than pleased with how well Littlepaw managed his solo expeditions. They just needed to sharpen his fighting skills a bit more, so he could pass his sparring assessment, and then tackle preparations for the third.

              Warrior apprentices had to pass three assessments before they could become warriors, with the first two being standard and the third being tailored to the individual apprentice. The first was hunting- the mentor, alongside the deputy or even the leader, would give the apprentice a range and a certain number of prey to bring back in a certain amount of time. Apprentices were scored based on if they got less, the exact amount, or even more than they were asked for. Then, there was a sparring assessment, usually against the clan’s most recent warrior. The apprentice was judged on how long they lasted in the fight and got extra points if they won. Finally, the apprentice was assigned a task that involved something the apprentice struggled with. Stealth, climbing, tracking, swimming- it varied widely. For his own task, Piketail had to escort the then Lavenderkit, Stormkit, and Hollykit from camp to a clearing in the forest and back, all by himself. Warriors had been on the fringe of course, ready to intervene if need be, but nothing had required their interference. Piketail had not been good at group work, and especially struggled with communicating directions and helping others. The process of wrangling the kits had been a practice in torture, but he had done it, and he had learned a lot from the few hours he spent with them. As it stood, the three warriors were now some of the only members of his clan who could look him in the eye for long periods of time.

              For Littlepaw, he would probably suggest a stalking exercise. Not for prey of course, but for tracking other cats and predators. When it came to sneaking, Littlepaw was more of a sprinter than a distance runner- he could manage to slowly work his way towards land prey, striking with neat precision, and he had more than enough patience to fish very well. When it came to sneaking over long distances, however, he often fell short. Piketail would focus on strengthening his sparring ability then honing his stalking over the next moon or so, and that should be enough to get him through.

              “Littlepaw is with Dawnface. She’s taking Goldenpaw’s illness hard.” Ah, so he was with his mother. Piketail wouldn’t interrupt their time together- family came before training. They could just get a late start. But Piketail still needed something to distract him from his own mother, and he shuffled his paws for a minute as he tried to think of something to do. Coppertail had given him a day off from patrols, he had already hunted…

              “If you’re not busy,” Splashpaw said, drawing him out of his thoughts, “I need someone to go with me to collect more bedding. The sick cats need their nests changed out often- I know it’s an apprentice task but…” Piketail purred.

              “Of course, I’m not too proud to collect moss.” And some mindless manual labor would be perfect. Plus, he could keep an eye on Splashpaw and make sure he was safe. All in all, a productive use of his time.

              Piketail went with Splashpaw to let the deputy know they were leaving, a requirement that Oakstar had placed on the apprentice after Reedpelt’s death. They then set off towards the tree line, hoping to find some dry moss and other soft things in the woods. It was turning out to be a peaceful morning. The sky was clear, and the sparse snow on the ground was gently melting in the sun.

              “Thanks for coming with me. I know you have to meet the others tonight, so you should take a nap when we get back.” Piketail blinked, realizing that, oh right, tonight was the new moon. He knew a lot had happened since the last time they saw each other- Splashpaw had reported back to him after meeting with the other medicine cats at the half moon a couple weeks ago. Fernfire had said Shadowclan found that the Thunderclan scent previously found in the territory had disappeared, and that the Town cat had cleverly disguised their scent by rolling in a mixture of different plants and such until they smelled like the forest. What the Town cat might not have anticipated, however, was that Shadowclan was comprised of the best trackers in the territories and were wilier than a pack of foxes. Briarmask had rolled in the exact same plants in the exact same order, and by taking her scent afterwards, they were able to mark the distinct combination of smells the Town cat used to disguise themselves. They had then tracked that smell through the territory, discovering quite a bit about the cat’s patterns.

              One, they were unpredictable. The cat never took the same path twice, making sure to double back and do whatever they could to throw off pursuers. It pointed to paranoia, and definitely confirmed this was no average trespasser. Secondly, the scent always disappeared into Thunderclan territory. They couldn’t track it from there, of course, but they found trace amounts of oak and birch leading back through their territory and to the Town. It never strayed to their border with Windclan or any other parts of their territory besides the area between the Town and the Thunderclan border, sticking more or less to the same swath of territory. Rosestar had started posting his best trackers, cleverly disguised, throughout the murderer’s most traversed areas, hoping to catch them. So far nothing had come of it, but it also seemed that the cat had been making fewer trips into their territory. Piketail couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with the murderers being focused on Windclan instead.

              Their worst fears had come true, the warning Snowdrift received coming to pass. Kestrelcall had been killed, his son blinded and Shalestar’s daughter maimed. The Windclan leader had sent a runner to each clan to warn them of the news. Tensions in the clans were at an all time high- Riverclan and now Windclan were looking to the other clans for help, which resulted in a mixed success. Stonestar was now closely guarding his medicine cats. He was certain they were next on the list. Rosestar was similarly hesitant, but was also deeply worried about what would happen to the clans at large should any of them lose all contact with the ancestors. Fernfire was of the same mind. As such, the Shadowclan leader would send his medicine cat out guarded by at least three warriors to visit Windclan and Riverclan, and would escort Splashpaw and Teaselpaw to his camp personally alongside his best fighters. It was a help, but it was also impractical, as any emergencies that cropped up could not be dealt with efficiently. Something had to give, and soon.

              For Riverclan’s part, Oakstar had taken to having constant border patrols, as well as a roving battle patrol at all times. Splashpaw was also to be accompanied at all times and a warrior slept in front of the medicine den every night. It was exhausting, but a combination of determination and fear kept them on their paws. For his part now, Piketail was aware of every sound, scent, and bit of movement, not letting his guard down for a second. He gave Splashpaw a quick glance before continuing his watch.

              “No worries. I’ll make sure to rest when we get back.” They were deep in the trees now, and Piketail kept his ears pricked as he helped Splashpaw claw some moss from an oak tree, head swiveling so much he must resemble an owl.  He was about to pick up the ball of moss he had collected when he smelled it.

              Mint.

              Immediately he looked up and saw a dark blur falling out of the tree towards him. He darted out of the way and the cat crashed to the ground, stumbling as they did. Piketail put himself in front of Splashpaw, snarling in rage. It was a dark gray molly, her front right leg missing. She looked at him with furious green eyes, meeting his challenge with a hiss of her own.

              This must be the Town cat.

              She looked big, with long, dark gray fur, and from the look on her face he knew she’d be a fierce opponent. But Piketail was strong, an adept fighter in his own right, and most importantly, he knew how to pick his battles. He turned to a paralyzed Splashpaw and shoved him, hard, in the direction of camp.

              “Run!” He yowled, and the silver tabby took off like a shot, Piketail hot on his heels. They needed to get out of the trees and back to the clear grassland. Piketail knew a patrol would be nearby- they just had to make it long enough to find them. He also knew that this Town cat had an accomplice, and that he couldn’t let Splashpaw be separated from him.

              Sure enough, there was crashing in the undergrowth to his left, and he cursed his missing eye under his breath- whoever it was, they were trying to sneak up on his blind side. He herded Splashpaw sharply to the right, the tree line in sight. The apprentice put on a burst of speed, and Piketail thanked the ancestors as they broke out of the woods and into the open part of the territory. He could see the camp below them, down near the river, and hoped that they were now visible as well.

              He could hear one of their pursuers drop off behind him, staying in the trees, but the other one continued. In the wide-open space of the grassland, they were quickly gaining on him, and Piketail decided enough was enough. Taking a deep breath, he slowed, yowling a warning call as loud as he could. It cracked and rolled over the grass, hopefully drawing the attention of the patrol nearby. Splashpaw slowed enough to look over his shoulder, yellow eyes wide and terrified. Piketail gave him a breathless smile.

              “Go!”

Splashpaw seemed to hesitate for a moment before following the command, picking up speed as he fled to the camp. Piketail screeched to a stop, turning in one fluid movement to then leap on the surprised molly who was just behind him.

              See, Piketail was angry. He was angry, he was tired, and he was itching to let loose the maelstrom of emotions that had taken up residence in his gut the moment he found Reedpelt’s body.            

              The molly went rolling, and he discovered that she was actually quite skinny under all that fur. While that meant he had the upper hand in strength, she would most likely be faster than him. At least her missing leg precluded her making direct hits on his blind side, something which evened the playing field a bit. Still, Piketail needed to finish this, and quickly. He had no reservations about using deadly force in this situation either, so his first move was to try and grab the molly by the throat. Sensing he was playing for keeps, she barely dodged, slithering out from his hold to face him, face contorted in rage.

              And so it began. He’d strike, she’d dodge, she’d snap, he’d hit, and they flattened the grass around them as they rolled and snarled and fought. Finally, though, he managed to grab her front leg, and he bit down, hard, twisting his head and grinding his teeth until he felt a crack that satisfied that dark, raging part of him that called for him to just end it. The molly howled, somehow managing to contort herself to where she could land a solid kick right to his jaw. The blow momentarily stunned him, loosening his hold enough for her to rip her leg out of his grasp, and she turned tail and ran, a miserable, limping gate. Shaking his head to try and clear the ringing in his ears, Piketail took off, chasing her all the way back to the tree line. He slowed as she disappeared into the undergrowth, reluctant to pursue her alone when her accomplice was more than likely lurking in the shadows.

              There was a commotion behind him, and he turned to see Coppertail’s battle patrol loping up to him.

              “Two of them, in the trees,” he rasped, suddenly aware of his heaving sides and stinging wounds. His breath clouded the air in front of him as he gasped for breath. “Dark molly, three legs, wounded her pretty bad. Didn’t see the other one.” Coppertail nodded as his three other clanmates raced into the trees, giving him a concerned once over.

              “You alright getting back to camp by yourself lad?” He rumbled, and Piketail gave him a hasty nod.

              “I’m fine.” That was all the assurance Coppertail needed, quickly following after the patrol. Piketail shook himself before turning, taking off at a trot towards the camp.

              When he made it back the whole camp was swarming like an ant pile, Oakstar and Splashpaw in the center of the hubbub. The poor apprentice still looked terribly frightened, and Oakstar looked furious as he gave out orders. He perked up as Piketail stumbled into camp, concern clear in his gray eyes.

              “Piketail! Thank the stars. We were worried about you.” He rumbled as Piketail came to a stop in front of him, giving the leader a respectful nod.

              “Nothing too bad, I don’t think.” He said, glancing at Splashpaw as he did, trying to reassure the young tom. “Mostly just some scratches.” He then gave his report to his leader, detailing how the molly had tried to surprise him and the ensuing chase, painfully admitting his inability to see the other assailant, and describing the way he managed to wound his opponent. Oakstar nodded, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

              “Good,” he growled. “Excellent work. You saved Splashpaw’s life, and gave us the biggest insight into the perpetrators yet. I’m proud to have you as a member of my clan.” Piketail couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable at the praise, both because he wasn’t used to it and, well, he was considering leaving said clan. Regardless, he gave Oakstar a grateful blink, a little warmth growing in his chest at the words.

              “I promised I would never let anyone hurt him.” He murmured. Oakstar gave him another nod, before turning to Splashpaw. The silver tabby was eyeing Piketail critically, no doubt cataloguing his different wounds.

              “If you’re alright now Splashpaw, I’ll leave you in Piketail’s capable care. And he in yours.” With that the leader was off, and Splashpaw and Piketail were left looking at each other. Splashpaw jerked his head towards the medicine den, and Piketail obediently followed after him.

              “Alright, wait here a moment while I grab some things, and clean your wounds.” The little tabby ordered, and Piketail’s nose twitched as he suppressed a snort. He did as he was told, discovering only a few scratches along his flanks, only one of which was particularly nasty. Then there was the sore jaw and headache blooming behind his forehead. But overall, he felt like he had escaped relatively unscathed. Can’t say the same for her, he thought with a sort of dark amusement.  Splashpaw returned from the den with a small amount of dry herbs and cobwebs, ducking back in to get a large shell that had some water in it. He chewed up the herbs before spitting them into the water, letting it sit for a moment as he sniffed over Piketail’s pelt.

              “Well, looks like you handled that pretty well,” the apprentice declared, his cheerful tone sounding a little forced. Piketail did his best to wink, hard with just one eye, puffing up in exaggerated pride.

              “Ah, well, I am one of the best fighters in Riverclan, don’t you know. No sneaky rogue has a chance against me.” He preened, and was happy to see his dramatics had the desired effect. Splashpaw’s shoulders loosened a bit, and he seemed a bit more at ease as he began to soak the herb water in a strange, ragged looking moss. He pressed the now soaking moss to Piketail’s wounds, packing the somewhat rehydrated herbs into the deeper cut on the warrior’s side. This he then swathed in cobwebs, but he left the rest of the scratches bare. The healer apprentice then bid Piketail to drink what remained of the water.

              “It’ll help you fight off any infection. I’m not going to waste the cobwebs on the minor cuts since they should be fine on their own, but just make sure to keep them clean, alright?” Piketail nodded, ears beginning to droop as he realized just how tired he was. Splashpaw seemed to notice, giving him a sympathetic blink. “You should go get some sleep. I’ll make sure you’re up in enough time to eat something before you have to meet the others. And…” Splashpaw looked down at his paws before looking back up at Piketail, face so somber and serious it almost made Piketail wince. Splashpaw was supposed to be bright, laughing and jovial or sly and mischievous, not looking like an elder, with a gaunt face and tired eyes. He wasn’t even nine moons old yet. “Thank you, for saving my life.” The apprentice mewed.

              Piketail blinked slowly, the injustice of the situation stirring up that terrible anger again. How could any cat terrorize an innocent like this? How could that molly ever have looked at Splashpaw and decided to hurt him? Kill him? Piketail pushed the feeling back down, not wanting to upset the little tom before him, and reached forward to give him a gentle nudge.

              “Hey, don’t even worry about it. I know I’m not the most sentimental, but…” He knew it was true, what he was about to say, but then, actually sharing his feeling was a bit outside his purview. Still, he would do it, for Splashpaw’s sake. “You, your sister, Littlepaw, hell, even Goldenpaw, as annoying as she can be- I’ve always thought of you as the little siblings I never got to have. And I’ll never let anyone hurt my family.” Splashpaw’s eyes grew wide, and Piketail felt a bit nervous, even though he knew he shouldn’t, but rejection was a fraught topic for him. To his relief, Splashpaw’s eyes crinkled up in a smile, and the little tom let out a purr that actually sounded genuine for the first time since Reedpelt was killed.

              “Well, Horsetail, I always did want an older brother. Not that Dandelion isn’t my brother, but everyone knows he’s the baby in this little family of ours.” Piketail couldn’t help but laugh at that. But Splashpaw was right- even though Littlepaw and Goldenpaw were a moon or so older than their peers, they still acted younger in different ways. Piketail hoped as they all grew older they’d stay so close, that nothing would tear them apart in the way he and his friends had been. The scarred warrior gave the apprentice another nudge before letting out a jaw cracking yawn. Splashpaw gave him a sympathetic blink. “Now go get some rest. I’ll make sure to wake you in time.” With a grateful nod, Piketail turned and slowly made his way to the warrior’s den, the aches and pains of his wounds starting to make themselves known. He collapsed into his nest with a sigh, and his usual prayer- please, let me sleep without dreaming.

________________________________________________________________

              Piketail did dream, but it was strangely… pleasant. He didn’t remember it when Splashpaw gently shook him awake, but he just felt good. A shame, really, that the good dreams couldn’t stick. He shook himself roughly, dispelling the last bit of sleep, and followed Splashpaw over to the front of the medicine den. The silver tom had a mouse waiting for him there.

              “I doubt anyone will ask, but if they do, I’ll let them know you went to clear your head.” Splashpaw murmured as Piketail neatly ate his food in a few quick bites. “And I wanted to ask you a favor. Goldenpaw is still burning up, and I can’t think of anything besides dunking her head in the river. Can you ask Snowdrift what to do for me?” Piketail nodded.

              “Of course. Hopefully he’ll know what to do.” Splashpaw gave him a tired look.

              “He better. She may be a bully sometimes, but that’s just ‘cause she’s jealous of Littlepaw. She’s been better about that recently anyway.” Piketail blinked at the healer apprentice’s rather frank observation. At first, he didn’t believe it- Goldenpaw was quite literally the golden apprentice. The best hunter, the best fighter, smart and brave. She had always outshone Littlepaw, which was something that always irked Piketail- she was admittedly better at most things, so why did she have to push her brother around so much? But, well, now that he thought of it…

              Littlepaw had been a sickly kit, and to this day was the main focus of their mother’s attention. Their father had died when they were young as well, which left Dawnface even more protective, especially of Littlepaw. And Ripplepaw and Splashpaw had always been fonder of the golden tom, and since there weren’t any other apprentices, Piketail was starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, Goldenpaw was lonely. And felt neglected. And that pushed her to be a brat, because at least then her mother paid attention to her, and her peers had to take notice. She was an immature apprentice lashing out.

              That didn’t excuse her actions of course, especially since she’d be a warrior soon enough, but Piketail was a little more sympathetic to the golden molly. When she’s better, I’ll make more of an effort. He decided firmly. I know what it’s like to be on the fringes, even if it’s for a different reason. Plan made, Piketail hauled himself once more to his feet, cuts stinging but headache mercifully gone. It was time to go. He bid Splashpaw goodbye, setting off at a slow pace, not caring much as his tail dragged along behind him. Piketail didn’t have to fake his dejection as he left camp, barely acknowledging the sympathetic blinks his clanmates gave him as he went. As soon as he was safely out of sight, he took up a trot, heading along the border towards Fourtrees. He had to be more careful, with the patrols and such about, but it would be fine. He could be sneaky when he wanted to.

              Piketail made it to Fourtrees without raising any suspicions, having passed a patrol but only receiving understanding nods from his clanmates. With them none the wiser, it had been an easy trip. Snowdrift was once again in the hollow, with a surprisingly early Briarmask alongside him. They looked up to greet him as he came down the slope, eyes widening in alarm as they took in his wounds.

              “What the hell happened to you?” Briarmask asked, giving him a critical once over as he sat down beside her.

              “I was attacked by the Town cat- she tried to ambush me and Splashpaw when we were out collecting bedding. Thankfully, I drove her off and he’s safe.” He quickly assured them, soothing the panicked look in their eyes. Snowdrift opened his mouth to say something when the smell of Windclan drifted in on the breeze.

              Teaselpaw was padding down the slope, and she wasn’t alone. Two warriors prowled alongside her, and Piketail sat straight up as he realized it was Shalestar and her son. Briarmask looked calm, but her ear was twitching, and true to form Snowdrift looked more bemused than concerned. He stood and offered the leader a respectful nod, which the two warriors were quick to copy.

              “Greetings, Shalestar. Ancestor’s blessing upon you! I was not expecting to see you here.” Snowdrift mewed, and there was an unspoken question in his words. Shalestar returned his greetings before taking a seat, at which point the rest of the cats sat as well. Piketail had never been this close to the molly before, and was surprised to see she was taller than he was, but only barely. Her son, however, stood a full ear length taller than her, and with those Windclan bat ears, that was saying something. Piketail internally chastised himself as he realized Shalestar was speaking, forcing himself to focus on her words.

              “I could not, in good conscience, allow Teaselpaw to traverse the territory alone, but I also understand the importance of these meetings as well as the importance of keeping them a secret. Since Teaselpaw had already informed me of what was happening, I decided to accompany her here. My son, Cinderfall, is trustworthy- I swear by all nine of my lives.” The tom in question was somber, but his eyes burned with an anger that was all too familiar to Piketail. And who could blame him? “We will leave you alone to speak if you wish,” she continued, “but will stay close by to look out for any trouble.” Snowdrift glanced at Piketail and Briarmask before speaking.

              “You are more than welcome to stay. We would appreciate your input, and Teaselpaw would only need to fill you in later anyway.” Piketail nodded in agreement. It would be nice to have someone here who actually knows what they’re doing, he thought drily. He then realized that Snowdrift was staring at him expectantly, and he cleared his throat.

              “Uh, yes, I was just telling Snowdrift and Briarmask that I have seen the Town cat. She attacked me and Splashpaw today, but thankfully, he escaped unscathed. There was another cat there that I could hear, but they stayed hidden. They did not pursue us when we broke cover and so I was able to fight off the molly.” All eyes were on him, the others leaning forward intently.

              “Dipperwing was blinded before he could see his attackers, and Silverfang has been unable to speak because of her wound. Did you recognize her at all?” Teaselpaw asked suddenly, her bright green eyes wide and searching. Piketail shook his head.

              “No- I’ve never seen her before. She was dark gray, fluffy, green eyes, and she was missing her front right leg. She fought well, despite it.” He admitted. “I managed to wound her fairly bad. I at least fractured her only foreleg, if not outright broke it.” Piketail was vindicated by the grim satisfaction on his fellow warrior’s faces, but was disconcerted by the look on Snowdrift’s. The snowy tom looked like he’d seen a ghost, staring at Piketail with shocked eyes so wide he could see a glimpse of white at the corners.

              “…What is it?” He asked the medicine cat, concern rapidly growing. “Do you know who that is?”

              “I- maybe, I never met her, but-“ Snowdrift swallowed hard. “Stonestar’s mate, Featherfall. She ruined her foreleg in an accident a long time ago. They- the clan, they told everyone she died, but Stonestar brought her to the twolegs. Softgaze told me she was dark gray, and that Mintfrost has her eyes-“ Snowdrift was looking distinctly ill, and Piketail felt ice pricking down his spine as he started to put the pieces together.

              “You thought you saw Mintfrost, that night, speaking to a dark colored cat.” Briarmask said, eyes narrowed. “We knew this couldn’t be an ordinary Town cat- they were too familiar with our patrol structures, too used to the forest for just some rogue. Mintfrost isn’t the murderer, but she looks just like her father, right? Which means-“

              “Are you telling me Stonestar is the other murderer?” Piketail had almost forgotten Shalestar was there, but he nearly jumped out of his fur at the furious hiss she let out. With her fur bristling like that, the gray molly had seemingly doubled in sized, resembling a thunder cloud more than the sleek, calm cat that was sitting there a moment ago. Even though her anger wasn’t directed at him, Piketail couldn’t help but feel nervous. A brush against his pelt revealed Briarmask trying to subtly scoot away from the enraged leader, and he obligingly shuffled over to give her some room to escape.

              “It… would explain a lot. Oh, stars.” Snowdrift murmured, looking unsteady. Piketail, now sitting closer to the tom than before, tensed, ready to catch him if the medicine cat suddenly swooned.

              “… What do we do?” Came a small voice. Piketail glanced over to see Teaselpaw had sat forward, eyes flicking between her gathered companions. “We know the truth, but to everyone else, there’s no proof. No one would believe it if we told them Stonestar was working with his mate, who everyone thinks of as dead, to murder all medicine cats. I almost don’t believe it.” The little molly had a point. They couldn’t just accuse Stonestar out of the blue. They needed proof, proof that anyone could see was legitimate. But how?

              “We need to a lay a trap.” Briarmask said abruptly, and my, wasn’t that such a Shadowclan thing to say. “It makes sense, now, why Thunderclan hasn’t been hit. He’s either afraid of calling attention to himself or he’s saving the best for last. I’m assuming, based on our theory,” here, she glanced at Snowdrift, “that Softgaze is the primary focus of their anger.” The medicine nodded reluctantly. “So, that means that Shadowclan should be next on their list. I can talk to Rosestar and Fernfire. If we can draw them out, if other cats can vouch that they saw Stonestar attack a medicine cat- well, we might just be able to sway the clans against him.”

              It was risky, but it could work. And honestly, it seemed like their only option right now. Determination settled over the group like a frost, cold but invigorating. The end was in sight- if they could pull this off. Shalestar suddenly focused on Piketail, and the gray warrior couldn’t help but instinctively straighten under her gaze. Even if she wasn’t his leader, she was still a leader, and every warrior held a deep-seated respect for the position.

              “Well, I am aware of what’s going on, Rosestar will believe his niece, and Snowdrift will obviously not be speaking to Stonestar of this. So, warrior, do you think Oakstar will believe you if you share this with him?” Piketail hesitated. Oakstar was… somewhat abreast of the situation. He had gone with Splashpaw to their leader after Reedpelt died, briefly filling him in on what they knew about the omen and the murderers. But Oakstar was an old cat, firmly rooted in his way of doing things, and Piketail had no particular connection to his leader that would sway the old cat into believing that his fellow leader was actually a cold blooded murderer.

              “Knowing Oakstar, it will take some convincing, but I can try. If Splashpaw helps me, he’ll probably believe it.” He hoped, at least. That seemed to satisfy Shalestar, however.

              “I would like you two to inform Rosestar and Oakstar of what we have discovered and tell them I would like to meet with them, sooner rather than later. Tomorrow night, preferably. I would like to get moving on this.” All Briarmask and Piketail could do was give her obedient nods, although Piketail felt his stomach tighten in anxiety. Shalestar twitched an ear in acknowledgement before casting her gaze around the gathered cats. “If that’s all, I’d like to get Teaselpaw home now. Don’t think I didn’t hear you still sneezing, earlier.” This stern chiding was directed at the apprentice, who pinned her ears back sheepishly. With that the leader bid them all farewell, sweeping Teaselpaw back up the slope and out of the clearing without any further fanfare, which Piketail was grateful for. He wanted to speak to Snowdrift and Briarmask without being overheard.

              “I have something to ask both of you- but, uh, different questions.” They both turned to him with curious looks. “Snowdrift, an apprentice in my clan has been sick with terrible fevers. Splashpaw’s tried everything short of dunking her in the river and it won’t break.” Snowdrift hummed thoughtfully, brow furrowed in concern.

              “I’m assuming he’s been giving her feverfew and willow water?” Piketail nodded. “Lavender could help in addition, but the best thing would be borage. The only problem is you need it fresh, and right now it’s too cold for it.” Piketail felt his heart sink- Splashpaw had bemoaned the lack of borage before, but it seemed like his fears were confirmed. Beside him, Briarmask cleared her throat.

              “I’m only going to tell this to you two because I know you won’t say anything about it. Ever.” Both toms nodded quickly, easily reading the threat in her words. “Rosestar’s mother, my grandmother, is a kittypet- she lives a little ways into the Town. Her twolegs have this weird glass den in their garden with a bunch of herbs and stuff in it- sometimes, when we’re desperate, Rosestar can go there and find the fresh herbs. We don’t do it often because the Town can be dangerous, but I can go see if they have borage. If I go tonight or in the day tomorrow, Rosestar could bring it when he meets the other leaders.” Piketail could have yowled for joy at her words. Instead, he gave her a grateful smile.

              “I don’t know how we could repay you for that. Thank you, that could be what saves Goldenpaw.” Briarmask shrugged, as if she were unbothered, but she cleared her throat a little awkwardly.

              “It’s fine,” she huffed, “I could never sit by and let an apprentice suffer if I could do something. Besides, I haven’t seen grandmother in a while anyway. Now, you have something to ask me too?” Piketail sobered, looking down at his feet. He couldn’t help the lump that grew in his throat, doing his best to swallow around it. The meeting had distracted him from Grayfeather’s death, but now it hit him again, full force.

              “Well, there’s not an easy way to say this,” he hedged, and both Briarmask and Snowdrift leaned towards him, curious and concerned. “My mother- well, died. Last night.” He cleared his throat. “And before she did, she told me, um, that, uh- my father is Lizardspots.” Piketail dared to glance up after his rush of words, and nearly flinched. Both of his companions were looking at him like he had two heads. Briarmask’s mouth had actually dropped open in shock.

              “That old stick in the mud had a mate in another clan?” She asked incredulously, and then, to Piketail’s bemusement, a devious grin crawled across her face. “Oh, man, wait until Uncle finds out. He’ll be pissed.” His anxiety must have been clear on his face, as the pointed molly took one look at him and quickly began to backpedal. “Oh, uh, no, no, he won’t be pissed at you. Uncle will be pissed at Lizardspots ‘cause Lizardspots was always up his ass about the rules and stuff. Rosestar is much more sympathetic to half-clan relationships than one might think. And sorry. About your mom. Stars guide her.” It took all Piketail’s self-control to not let out a sigh of relief, and he instead settled on a nod.

              “Good,” he mewed, “because I’d like to talk to him. About, um, joining Shadowclan.” Now that he said it out loud, he could acknowledge it sounded a little crazy, but it also felt right. And besides, it wasn’t against the Code or anything. And, even better, Briarmask looked like she was actually considering it, not just dismissing him outright.

              “Well, I can think of a few who would be happy with that,” she mused, ignoring Piketail’s confused blink. “Tell you what- I'll talk to Rosestar about it tonight and let you know what he says next time we meet, so you can see if you even need to speak to Oakstar about it.” That… was actually not bad news. He would have to trust Briarmask knew her uncle well enough to gauge his most probable reaction and think Piketail had a chance at success. He nodded in agreement, and Snowdrift cleared his throat.

              “What an eventful evening! Piketail, I have to say, I’m so sorry for your loss. And it’s incredible that you managed to keep Splashpaw safe. Thank you for that.” Piketail had had enough praise for the day- it was starting to become rather uncomfortable, so he just murmured a thank you and stood. He gave Briarmask a glance.

              “I know Stonestar is unlikely to murder you now or anything,” Piketail mewed, “but still, let me and Briarmask walk you home. It wouldn’t be good for you to go by yourself.” To his surprise, Snowdrift blinked sheepishly.

              “Um, well, I’m actually not alone this time.” The medicine cat pointed with his nose towards the slope that led to Thunderclan territory. A white head popped out of the bushes at his gesture, followed closely by a dark ginger smudge. Piketail was pretty sure the white one waved at them. “My brother and his, uh, friend? Caught me sneaking out and I kind of had to tell them what was going on. They’ll make sure I’m ok.” Well, that meant Piketail didn’t have to slog through the undergrowth of Thunderclan’s territory, so he’d take it. Instead, he bid farewell to his companions, who returned his well wishes with their own blessings and sympathies. As he turned and trotted back up the slope, Piketail felt the different emotions that had been raging inside him begin to settle, solidifying into a lump of furious focus.

              This was going to end. Soon.

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[ikimonoeren]

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐎 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

☆ warnings. just a bit steamy

☆ summary. reader and connie are childhood best friends and both are home for the summer. reader interrupts connie's afternoon nap and he is unable to fall asleep for obvious reasons...

☆ author's note. damn this its been a long time coming that i actually really like a writing of mine. pls enjoy lol

It was pretty a common occurence for you to end up at Connie's house and fall asleep on his bed. What was uncommon, was that he would sometimes fall asleep next to you. Not in a weird overly intimate way. He was your best friend of fifteen years and your next door neighbor, so nothing about it seemed odd or out of place. In fact, Connie enjoyed that you choose him over any one else. Any time you had something you were upset over, you would come running to him. Fight with your parents? Connie. Failed a big exam? Connie. Didn't make it into your dream university? Connie.

Of course, you had gotten into university. You and him had attended together, and you were home for the summer in your childhood homes enjoying the air condition that kept you from the heatwave outside. You laid there on your stomach sound asleep with your face buried into his pillow as you snored softly. Connie sighed as he laid beside you. It was never easy having you next to him in bed.

He was actually asleep himself right before you had come over and disrupted his afternoon nap. He had gotten a sense of deja vu as you entered his room and collasped onto his bed that had was covered in a Lightning Mcqueen comforter set. You didn't even look surprised when you saw it. You just snorted when you stared down at it for a moment before you looked over at him who's eyes were half way shut before you crawled in.

Your scent was probably the most distracting. Magnolia and vanilla. It had been your signature scent for some years now. Before it was sandalwood and jasmine, until Sasha had somehow managed to get you to switch it up. He didn't mind either way. Both smelled amazing on you because you naturally gave off good smelling pheromones. Which was unfortunate for him, because he was edging on sporting a half chub. It was embarrassing, really.

He didn't want to be one of those guys that couldn't control themselves around a pretty girl. Oh yeah, did he mention how utterly ethereal you were? As a child you were cute and squishy, but over time you had transformed into a graceful and divine woman. One that he found himself dreaming of and waking up in the middle of the night with his underwear completely ruined. He cringed at the thought. How many dreams did he have of you now? He lost count.

And even despite this, you kept to yourself. You didn't have any interest in other men and when he questioned your sexuality you would laugh.

"I'm holding out for someone special." You would say as you brushed your hair away from you face. Speaking in a knowing tone that drove him insane.

He wondered who were talking about. He could tell by the way your eyes shifted and how the apples of your cheeks would fill from the smile on your face that you were talking about somebody.

It was purely wishful thinking to think that you were talking about him. A sharp exhale emitted from his nose as he turned to face you. His fingers lightly danced across your back, tracing patterns and you shifted a little before you let out a small sigh.

You never minded when he touched you. A lot of your friendship was based off of touch. Hugs, lots of hugs. Short hugs, long hugs, side hugs, bear hugs. Jabs to the side to cause the other to yelp. Smacks to the back of the neck and flicks to the forehead. And his favorite, although most confusing to him were the longing touches. The way you would hold his hand when you needed comfort or even sometimes when you two would cross the street. Even times when you were just talking in a group.

Every one was used to it, though. They had known about how close you and your families were, so they would usually brush it off. Usually.

When you guys would get high and you were slumped up against him practically lounging in his lap Eren and Jean would snicker at the both of you which would make him blush and you giggle. He would never ask , though. No, he wasn't brave enough to do that. It would be way too awkward if you just outright rejected him. He couldn't stand that. If anything he would hold out for another girl, and keep your friendship sacred, but distant.

"I just like knowing your there." You would say as you clasped his pinky to your index finger.

Another sigh as he absentmindedly began to trace words onto your back.

I love you.

He etched it over and over again ontop of your tank top. The cloth lifted exposing a inch of your skin and he slowly brushed over it and then did it again.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

"I love you, too."

He froze. His whole body went frigid as he gawked at you. Had he imagined that?

He could only watch as your sleepy form turned to him, scooting closer. You laughed at the his expression that was riddled with shock.

"Did you not hear me properly? I said, I love you, too. Connie."

The smile that tugged on your lips was charming as hell and Connie fell silent.

"Do you need me to prove it?"

You leaned closer to him and he could only watch as you closed the small space between the both of you. You were hovering over him as your lips met and he slowly closed his eyes feeling a wave of relief wash over him. His body relaxed as he found his fingers raking through your hair as you placed more open mouth kisses again his lips. An involuntarily moaned released from your lips as his other hand touched the small of your back.

It was light, sweet, airy. Better than he had imagined.

"Sorry." You murmured against his lips not able to hide your grin.

His cheeks were riddled with sweet crimson as he looked at you with celadon hues.

"I..." He began and you leaned down to place a looking kiss at his warm cheeks.

"You love me?"

You peered down at him as you leaned your forehead against his.

"You're the one I've been holding out for."

His eyes glimmered under the glow of the soft, warm glow of the sunset as a smile tugged at his soft lips before he brought your face to his to kiss you again.

"I love you, too, [name]."

And to think this whole time I thought it was only wishful thinking.

[ask-gaining-minie]

How are you going to tease Kook when he comes back? He's been really pigging out and growing a bit of a belly from stuffing himself so much

Have you ever dreamed of stuffing him?

Well, not really since he never mentioned anything like that to me before last week. However, I saw it live when I came back from the airport. My chubby bunny in process was sitting on my couch sleeping from a food coma. I believe half of the food he are was all for me but someone lost controll hehe.

It did turn me on. Another one's belly just isn't the same as your own. My hands were literally glued to his hard, tiny gut. He's turning into a muscle chub and I am here for it.

[myclownjunction]

Cooking time with a dime! Karl Heisenberg x Reader Imagine

Cooking withWHO?! Karl Heisenberg...oh boy I'm about to break your dream state of man that cooks the perfect breakfast for you

* Don't forget before you came into his life this man is a living mess, like any man is, cooking for him means eating canned food, it fast, it's cheap and it takes lots of his sacral time

*Once you start cooking for him, he'll adore you, he'll be running for another fill to you like a puppy with its bowl giving you this puppy look, who could stand it

*He loves seeing you wrapped into an apron, it makes things to him, it wakes up another type of hunger that makes him smile and enjoy the look juuust a bit longer

*He loves trying new dishes but my loves MAKE HIM MEAT DISHES HE'LL WORSHIP YOU!He just really loves meat the werewolf magneto boy, he would eat the poor plate with the food on it so delicious it is

*One day you'll wake up to the smell of burnt things and then you'll wake up startled that there's a fire in the factory...NOPE, it's Karl trying to cook the breakfast, and guess what that poor pan was literally on fire. Karl swearing, the kitchen in havoc as there was flour everywhere and few broken eggs here and there as he turned around smiling sheepily at you as you can't hold the laughter within you, he reminded you of a child.

*"Karl Heisenberg, how did you get that pancake in the ceiling!"you absolutely lost it as he grins and says"Well doll I guess the gravity works the other way today!"you laugh together as you help him fix some breakfast and talk about this rather cute accident

*After this you'll teach Karl how to cook, and damn he'll be so attentive that the pen that floats and the notebook writes every single word that leaves your mouth

* At the beginning when you came into the kitchen there was a frying pan stuck into the wall for a reason, after giving him the questioning look you said" Is it UFP?"he looked rather confused and tilted his head to the side"Cooperate doll?"you laughed"Unidentified Flying PANcake"there was a silence and then howls of laughter filled the room"Ohh...haha, Doll....that was the best!"he said through laughter, you both decided to leave it as an art object

*Eventually he learns how to cook, make other meals, of course, thanks to you and your nerves, and a couple of ded pans, destroyed and wrecked kitchen, he's so proud to make something for you

*He loves your baking and the sweets and believe me when I'm telling you Karl Heisenberg is a sweet tooth, he likes sneaking in and steal a couple of cookies and you let him because of all the stress he's under

* One morning he sees himself in the mirror after the shower that he has a chub growing on his belly"Damn, got to train I guess. Well you gain some you lose some!"he chuckled as your hands came from behind hugging him and kissing his back"I love you any way you look Karl Heisenberg and not even a chub can change that!"he chuckles at your sweetness"You know love there's other sweet cake that I haven't tried yet"he smiles deviously before snatching you to your shared room to have a better taste

*He'll love to see some sexy surprises from you like, seeing you making food only in an apron, as you gotta pick something you"forgot" from the refrigerator as you bent and hear a rather loud moan, expect him to taste the dessert before the main dish and whoo boy this dessert is you ;)

*When it comes to hunting ohhh Karl loves it, he loves hunting and bringing something back as he always cleans the animal from its skin and stuff, once you told him you're not a princess and ohh, believe me, he was in awe, something by which you get done with the meat stirs something primal within him

*You love making stuff for him and he'll make for you, remember the hunting part, yeah expect handmade fur coats as the winter is close he'll make you as much as he can because, his sweet angel deserves it

*He still will munch on cans but this time you'll join him talking about some interesting topic just to keep the mood in a good way, he's grateful to have you because having food with someone and not alone it's hella different for him and he loves every bit of it

[yanderenightmare]

Hey, can I have yandere!shinsou to insult the chubby!reader bcs she really made him angry to her by being rebellious so it ended up with she is getting fuck so hard by him 🥵💦

yandere ! SHINSO HITOSHI

goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, dubcon/noncon, mind-control, jealousy

MISTAKES COME BEST WHEN SERVED IN THREES

She’d been bugging him all night. 

They were hauled up in his dorm-room with homework, had been so for hours. And it wouldn't have been too bad, but she wouldn't shut up.

She laid on her stomach, elbows propped up beneath her, tits mushed perfectly into his mattress, looking like a comfortable pillow fo support, squeezed like two plump balloons in her top with the way she bounced on them. She always bounced as she spoke, so bubbly, voluptuous lips sucking on her pen in those breaks where she didn't have anything to say, looking like a cute little bunny with the chubs of her cheeks, her legs kicking in the air, ass wiggling like a puppy wagging its tail, as she babbled on and on and on about her stupid crush.

Disgusting. He’d lost count of how many times he’d rolled his eyes, sustained clicking his tongue in an exasperated fashion, now feeling the growing need to go puke his guts up.

“He’s got such pretty hair too, like... it’s fluffy, like a cat, like he has secrets hidden inside there or something...” He wanted to claw his eyes out, but he couldn't stop looking at her, those lips, that cheeky smile, her childish giggle. His ears bleeding, not wanting to hear another silly foolish detail about whomever the fuck had her so neatly tied around there finger. “I just want to run my hands through it, you know?” She fiddled with a lock of her own hair while she daydreamed, finger raking through the pretty shiny treads. “Tangle my fingers inside it and ride his face.” That’s when he snapped.

It took only a split second to process, perhaps because he’d imagined it so many times already. Her plush thighs hugging his face, hands grabbing the fat of her ass, setting the rhythm, not letting her go until he feels her dripping down his chin. “Who?” He sounded like an owl, looked like one too. Eyes intense as they stared at her place on his mattress. 

Such audacity she had, talking up wet-dreams of someone else in his fucking bed.

Her brows knitted, looking at him, legs stopping to rub together in the air. “Hm?” She only hummed, but it was enough.

“What’s his name?” He repeated, and this time she had no choice but to answer.

Her features blanched, eyes pooling with void, enslaved, gorgeous, pupils blown large like a black lake, like ink ready to write all her secrets, to spill her guts for him. 

“Shinso Hitoshi.”

The name dropped from her lips without hesitance, and despite the monotonous sound of it, despite lackluster at the absence of her substantial voice, her full-bodied brazen wild tone, it still managed to make his heart stop, stammer in his chest, before beating along like it usually does, like a skipping rock, picking up its pace, soon to be hammering like some war-drum, fueling war-paint through his system, spiked and frayed, making the thin hairs at the nape of his neck rise, his purple mane frizz with static. 

Thoroughly put out, enough to lose his hold on her.

“Did you...” She shook from the shock, from the shackles. “Did you just-” Her palms pushed into her temple as her eyes scrutinized, pulling her knees to curl into a sitting position on the bed. “Use your quirk on me?” 

Her frame had bled into a blurry view at the light of his bliss, his smile widened into a sneer as sharp as a knife, eyes refocusing at the sound of her voice breaking the otherwise pin-drop silence and galloping of his heart.

He scoffed at her pout, at the brimming, swirling vivid look of betrayal climbing in her eyes, almost drooling at the bashful blush that adorned her cheeks, having never seen her shy or humiliated before and finding an unparalleled sense of victory at the sight of it. 

“What?” He shrugged, sly smile nudging further up on his face, smug and victorious, uncaring of whatever feeling he must have stirred with knowing how she actually felt plain and simple and outspoken, pulled right from her chest, still echoing on the walls, ringing in his mind, dripping from his teeth. He could almost laugh. “Not the guy you thought I was?”

“This isn't funny, Toshi.” Believe him, he didn't think so either. “I trusted you.”

“Your first mistake.” His lilac eyes shone with such sinister glee, such carnal sadistic pleasure, she felt it like a claw on her throat. “Liking me is your second.”

“You’re such a jerk.” Her voice strained, caught between being vicious to teary-wet. He could only imagine, like he’d done so many sleepless nights already, the catlike whimpers and whines she’d spill once he did like she suggested earlier.

She pushed herself off his bed with a bounce and huff and a sweet little sniffle, walking past where he still sat seated on the chair by his desk, hand drumming lean knuckled fingers on the table. “Leaving so soon, Kitten?” He didn't bother getting up. He didn't need to.

“Fuck- you.” She mumbled, her voice already a croak of suppressed cries, her heart aching in her chest as she walked to the door.

The smile cracked even farther, more salacious, more enjoyed, gorged and savored. “Fuck me? Heh, that’ll be your third...” He scoffed, laugh lacing his mocking words. “Stop.” Was all he needed to say to turn all her nerves against her and bend them to do his bidding. “Come here.” 

His hand still drummed on the table, not having bothered turning around as he heard her approach him again. Perfectly timed steps, one after the other, mechanical almost, until she stood, plain and simple, without resistance, between his legs, all up for grabs. His fingers stopped drumming.

Then there was silence again. But she would say the smirk on his face was loud, and so was the glint in those lavender orbs, warm in her head, in her cheeks, hot and heavy with how he eyed her, up and down. Hotter as those arms, lined with the muscles of a man, straining veins and fresh bruises from his training, reaching out scarred hands to touch her ample hips, pulling her closer, tighter between his thighs. Fingers, strangely confident and lax, unbothered and unhurried, soon fiddling with the clasp that kept her short school skirt together at the waist, pinching what pliable flesh he found as he explored. Other hand ascending with the same grace, working slowly as he twisted the buttons to her shirt open, popping one after the other, face buried and pushed into the welcoming warm embrace of her breasts with a heavy sigh, lips dragging up and down the valley of them, nose rubbing and cuddling into her skin, teeth soon gracing alongside his tongue licking at her. Her shirt and skirt falling to the floor, pooling around her ankles, meanwhile his hand moved to the back to pinch loose the clasp of her bra, where the other hand had made itself busy feeling up the thickness of her ass like putty between his greedy fingers.

“On the bed.” He growled, face still mushed into her skin, all clothes except her precious cotton panties left in a pile by the desk.

And off she went, Shinso getting up and out of his chair to trail after her, towering over her short frame, looking down at the back of her head and how it seemed to bob up and down as she walked, hips swaying like a feline from side to side as she stalked, until she turned on her heel and plopped down with a bounce. Always so bouncy. So plump and full of life. Juicy like a peach.

He got down on his knees quickly, hands reached out to grab her knees, prying them apart carefully, opening up for a view of soft plush doughy flesh and the valley that made her panties look like a heart just beneath her tummy, all for him to bite into. He groaned, hands curled as they raked down from grabbing at her ass, until they hooked under her knees, pushing her up and down on her back, tits bouncing from the fall, his other hand giving them the attention they deserve, kneading one breasts in his palm, fingers going from tweaking the nib to pulling at it like picking up a water-balloon by the tail, managing to wake her.

“Get off!” She gasped, whined at the harsh touch, hands coming to push at his hard abs. But he wasn't budging, hands easily and softly finding her wrists to keep them from flailing, his dark chuckle stirring that something deep within her gut.

“Get off?” He repeated, questioningly, a slight snicker playing in his tone. “What?” It was clear he was amused, that he had no regrets and no intentions of backing down. “You don't like it when I touch you?” He pushed her down, drowned her in the sheets, hiked his knee up on the bed to earn leverage and height, like a tower toppling over, pushing her wrists into the mattress, head dipping to kiss at her collarbone, nose sliding up her neck as she shook her head in slight protest were any verbal answers were sure to be taken advantage of. “Well-” He scoffed. “That’s a lie.” His words whispered at her ear, as he smoothly hooked his foot under her leg to push them open, knee fitting snugly between the tight space of her thighs, hiking her up over the tops of his own, fitting between her. “We both know you’ll love it when I touch you, Kitten.” 

He bit her earlobe with another snicker, kissed her cheek chastely, slipping his tongue into her mouth as he dunked in for one hungry sloppy kiss, loving her adorable girlish squeals beneath him, how her hands had stopped struggling, a tinge of rose blushing her cheeks once he pulled up for air. 

“There’s no need to be shy.” Pupils blown, his eyes had never seemed darker. “You belong to me.” He kissed down her neck, bit at her skin. “Every single inch of you.” His hands relieving their post, leaving two smaller hands to stay where they’d been placed. “These tits.” Lips kissing the bud of her breast, teeth rolling it on his tongue. Rough fingers grabbing like claws into the cake of her thighs again, spreading them further apart. “These thighs.” He growled, hands cupping her ass to rut his bulge into her thinly clothed sex, lips crashing onto her once again, even as she yelped against him. “This ass.” He groaned, rocking into her. “All of you. Every single curve.” He purred. “There won’t be an ounce of your being left untouched, unlicked, un-fucked once I’m done.”

[camillejeaneshphm]

Julian Ottesen-Taylor’s profile:

BASIC INFO

Quote by Character: “You wanna get to my sister? You’ll have to go through me first.”

Full Name: Julian Fridrik Ottesen-Taylor

Nicknames: Jules

Gender: Male (he/him)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Alignment: Neutral Good

Species: Wizard

Blood Status: Pureblood

Date of Birth: 16 March 1904

Race/Ethnicity: White, English/Icelandic

Nationality: British

Short Bio: The older child of Noah Taylor and Skadi Ottesen, Jules is fiercely protective of his little sister. Intelligent, though lacking some common sense, he’s also a decent cook. 

Personality: Cheerful and confident, though he tends to worry a lot. 

Languages: English, Icelandic

Likes: Cooking, time with his family, writing

Dislikes: Extreme heat, humidity

Greatest Flaw: Cowardice

Greatest Strength: Intellect

Place of Residency: 

birth-17: Alternates between his parents’s house and Hogwarts Castle

17-retirement: Reykjavík, Iceland

Future Career: Archivist with the Icelandic Ministry

APPEARANCE

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Eye Color: Blue

Skin Tone: Pale

Height: 6’4

Weight: 90.7 kg

Physique: Some muscle, though he’s got a bit of chub around the edges

Style Choice (what they like to wear): 1920s fashion, he also likes a lot of sweaters 

Accessories: An old watch from his grandfather

Inventory: A book or two, usually bandages since he’s super clumsy

Scars: Several small nicks on his face and hands from shaving and paper cuts

Face Claim: David Corenswet

Voice Claim/description of what they sound like: David Corenswet

MAGIC

Wand Description/Picture: Hazel, Dragon heartstring, 15 and a quarter inches

[A sensitive wand, hazel often reflects its owner’s emotional state, and works best for a master who understands and can manage their own feelings. Others should be very careful handling a hazel wand if its owner has recently lost their temper, or suffered a serious disappointment, because the wand will absorb such energy and discharge it unpredictably. The positive aspect of a hazel wand more than makes up for such minor discomforts, however, for it is capable of outstanding magic in the hands of the skillful, and is so devoted to its owner that it often ‘wilts’ (which is to say, it expels all its magic and refuses to perform, often necessitating the extraction of the core and its insertion into another casing, if the wand is still required) at the end of its master’s life (if the core is unicorn hair, however, there is no hope; the wand will almost certainly have ‘died’). Hazel wands also have the unique ability to detect water underground, and will emit silvery, tear-shaped puffs of smoke if passing over concealed springs and wells.]

Wand reaction when chosen: The room was illuminated in silvery light

Boggart: His baby sister, Cece, telling him she hates him and that she never wanted to see him again

Riddikulus Form: Cecelia’s voice is replaced by a honking noise

Patronus: Otter

Patronus Memory: He and his sister rolling down hills in a park

Animagus: None

Amortentia (what they smell like): Old books and lavender, with the smallest hint of woodsmoke

Amortentia (What they smell): unknown (open to interaction)

Mirror of Erised: Himself surrounded by friends and family

Misc. Magical Abilities: Julian inherited his mother’s ability to manipulate dreams. 

Favorite/Created Spells: nonel

SCHOOL LIFE

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Ilvermorny House: n/a

Organizations Joined: Icelandic Ministry of Magic

Apprenticeships: Apprentice Archivist, Icelandic Ministry

Professions: Archivist, Researcher

Best Subjects: Transfiguration, Ancient Runes, History of Magic

Worst Subjects: Charms

Favorite Teachers: N/A

Least Favorite Teachers: N/A

Class Proficiencies (OWL grade, n /10 or ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆):

Astronomy: A

Charms: P

DADA: EE

Flying: A

Herbology: EE

History of Magic: O

Potions: EE

Transfiguration: O

Ancient Runes: O

STATS

Power (magic): 8/10

Power (physical strength): 4/10

Intelligence: 10/10

Skill: 8/10

Teamwork: 7/10

Speed: 7/10

Defense: 6/10

RELATIONSHIPS

FAMILY:

Father:

Noah Taylor, one of my hphl ocs. A professional duelist, he and his wife Skadi are madly in love. Faceclaim: Freddy Carter

Mother:

Skadi Ottesen (@nightmaresart)

Siblings: 

Cecelia Ottesen-Taylor. Julian’s younger sister by two years, he’s absolutely devoted to her and would do anything to make her happy. Faceclaim: Jessica Brown Findlay

Friends:

Closest In-Game Friends:

n/a

Closest MC friends:

Toby Brokenshire (@cursebreakerfarrier)

Love interest:

Berenice Cairncross (@cursebreakerfarrier)

Dorm mates:

None yet (four open spots)

Rivals:

None yet (open to interaction)

Enemies:

n/a

Pets: A snowy owl named Ekla. 

[mediocre--writing]

Neil’s mother never wanted him. She actually wanted to be an actress, so she moved to LA to persue her dream. There, she met a man at the bar who would soon father Neil. She didn’t want him, but she was forced to have him and a shotgun wedding was in order. The marriage wasn’t a happy one, the child was nothing more than a burden, and she never became an actress. She blamed her son for getting in the way of her dreams. No matter how hard he tried to earn her affection, she never loved him. By the time she died, Neil had gone numb to his mother.

Billy looks like his grandmother.

neil hated his father.

hated listening to him getting drunk and rambling on about this bright future his mother had. how she was the best, most amazing woman he’d ever met. how her smile lit up rooms and her personality attracted everyone around her.

hated listening to how amazing his mother was when she was just a piece of shit.

not a mother, dorothy. she was just a woman who was tied down too quickly and regretted ever being near neils father.

he hated her stupid straw hair and her dumb songs she’d hum. hated how she’d always talk about the potential she had that were flushed down the toilet when neil was born.

and neil hated her beady blue eyes. how she always looked happier when she talked about any moment before he came to be.

and neil hated every feature and personality trait that woman possessed and wished he’d never been conceived because this was sure to be hell if he’d ever imagined it.

but neil didn’t hate it so much when it was about carrie.

her blonde hair shined when the light hit it right and her blue eyes were filled with life and real happiness.

he figured something must have gone wrong with his parents, because if his mother was anywhere near this beautiful when she was young, he can’t imagine his father making her unhappy. can’t picture her smile falling or her personality dissolving. cant imagine the beautiful golden hair turning to dull straw.

but he sees it. it’s doesn’t happen immediately, it just grows, almost in time with her baby bump.

as she gets bigger, as she gets closer and closer to being the mother of their child, she gets closer and closer to looking exactly like good ‘ol dorothy.

her beautiful blue eyes that shone like the ocean under the sun faded to match those awful bed sheets at the hospital. her bright smile was few and far between, and more often than not fake. her hair, that gorgeous, wavy, always smelling like the salt water and suntan lotion hair was straightening out and losing its bounce.

neil remembers when they had been dating and they’d lay together, after a long night, and she would curl up into his chest and lay her head right below his and he’d run his fingers along her back, combing through her hair. how soft it was and how relaxed she got, falling to sleep in mere moments.

that hair, that hair he fell in love with, was dying out just like the woman he loved, it lost its shine and softness, it’s delicacy and beauty, it’s was straw.

and now, now neil is left with this thing, this child who looks just like carrie, looks just like dorothy, and neil doesn’t know what to do with this festering feeling of hatred burning deep in his chest.

he remembers how awful he felt every time his mother would talk about everything she lost because of him, how bitter he was that his mother hadn’t loved him and never would, how he’d cry and cry and cry over this loss that he had never really had.

neil never wanted billy to be so ashamed to be born that he hated himself all because his sorry excuse for a mother was too good for their family. it made you angry and mean and callous.

so neil made sure billy never knew that he was neglected by his mother because she wanted her straw hair to be shiny again. he never talked about carrie.

not when billy asked, not when friends would ask, not at family reunions, and never with another potential woman.

somehow, that made sense to neil. out of sight, out of mind, perhaps.

and when he met susan, he made sure the similarities were slim to none.

she had brown eyes, not daring blue. her hair was an orange-red that would never turn to straw. she didn’t have that childlike wonder in her expressions and she didn’t have the cute chub of her cheeks when she smiled, they were carved like a goddess. she was amazing and spectacular and not them.

and, best of all, susan didn’t have a son she was too ashamed to be seen with. she had a daughter, a ginger little girl, who may make her mother crazy sometime but wasn’t set out from the start to destroy a family, to destroy what was once love.

and neil was finally content with his nuclear family, no blondes, no blue eyes, no wild dreams. that was all beaten out of the dirty rug that had plagued the hargroves for too long.

billy, as ungrateful as he was, didn’t cause too much of a fuss, was seemingly the opposite of his mother, had never had unattainable dreams and was pessimisticly average in that way. he wore the dark, rebellious clothes that looked nothing like the beautiful, earthy greens and blues those awful straw-haired women would wear. and his hair would never turn to straw, it was kept up with (even if it was too long for neils liking) and had a bouncy curl that would never dare to straighten out as he grew.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Dive Bar Ch 9/?

Pairing: Dean x Sam (finally) 

Rating: 18+

Prompt/Summary: After a one night stand with a random college chick turns into a threesome that also featured his little brother, Dean- well, frankly, he panics. What’s even worse than gay panicking? Gay incest panicking. Luckily, Sam winds up being a little more cool about the whole thing than Dean ever would have imagined.

WC: 3,152

Tags: brother/brother incest, gay panic, angst, blow job, finger sucking, dirty talk, cum swallowing 

Created for: @spnkinkbingo​ | Square - Finger Sucking 

Beta: @daydream3r-xo​ 😘

Divider: @firefly-graphics ❤️

Fic Masterlist

Chapter 8 

Chase said he didn’t mind, that it didn’t matter that Sam had said an ex boyfriend’s name. They both knew this was a one time thing, no big deal. But Sam was spiralling. Chase didn’t know that ‘Dean’ was his brother. He had to get home, back to the motel, just out of here. He couldn’t take Chase looking at him all understandingly, with a little pity mixed in, like he was a lost puppy or something. He wasn’t.

Sam got his bearings and started the walk back to the motel. It was a couple of miles but not that far, and the desert night hadn’t turned too cold yet. He welcomed the long walk. He had needed to get out of Chase’s apartment but he wasn’t exactly rushing to get back to his motel room. That he shared with his brother. Whose name he had just moaned when he came inside another guy.

Sam couldn’t fathom how this had happened, how he’d let it get this far. Sure, he’d had a crush on Dean as a kid (honestly it was the one thing he ever had in common with everyone at the schools he crashed in and out of every few months), but he’d pushed past that. When he left for Stanford, he turned over a new leaf, and messed around, and then found Jess and he was better. He had fixed this. He thought he had fixed this.

Sure, Dean would still creep into his dreams every now and then, hanging on the edges like some voyeur watching his thoughts, but Sam hadn’t actually had a sex dream about him since he was a teenager. Well, until the fucking threesome. What the hell made him think that would be a good idea?

Sure, Sam, go ahead. Have a threesome with your biggest childhood crush, that’ll be fine. Hey, now you’re here you may as well suck him off, that won’t make things worse at all. What a fucking idiot he had been.

Dean was everywhere now. In his life, in his thoughts, in his dreams, there was no escaping him. And then a month ago, when Dean had said he was thinking about doing it again? Sam had had to work very hard to cover his erection with his beer and some tactical leaning forward on his knees. And when Dean had said he was thinking about guys in that way … except it didn’t sound like he was thinking about 'guys’ exactly, it had sounded like he was thinking about Sam .

Sam didn’t know what had come over him but before he could stop the words from tumbling out he was offering ‘hey, if you ever need a hand figuring it out...’ Stupid, stupid, stupid. He had absolutely fucked it up, then. Dean had been acting weird ever since that night. Not obviously weird but noticeably like he was holding parts of himself back around Sam, like he wasn’t fully comfortable anymore. And Sam was just waiting for the next screw up to happen and drive Dean away from him for good.

Thank god he hadn’t taken Chase back to their motel room. If Dean had come back early and heard that, heard him…

Sam shuddered and hunched himself tighter inside his jacket, tempted to pull up his hood and run away into the night and never have to face Dean ever again. But he knew he could never do that. No matter how fucked up it was, Dean would have to tell him to get lost himself, nothing less would keep Sam away from him.

Up ahead, the broken neon of the motel sign glinted in and out of sight as cars passed him, rushing off to better places and normal lives. Sam wondered if Dean would be back yet, checking his watch. Yeah, most likely. Not too many bars stayed open this late. That means unless he’d found someone to go home with after all, Dean would be inside waiting for him.

Dean yawned and stretched, scratching his stomach where a bit of dried cum had clung to his happy trail. He should just go to sleep but he didn’t want to dream what he knew he’d dream about. If he passed out though, at least he probably wouldn’t remember the dreams in the morning. He’d flicked on the grainy tv and found some bad porn where the girls were all fake boobs and fake orgasms. Not his kind of thing, but honestly more entertaining than the soap opera reruns the other channels were showing.

A crunch of gravel outside caught his attention and he sat up in bed, taking another swig of Jack. The handle of the door twisted softly and Dean reached for the gun he’d slid under his pillow. As much as common sense told him it would be Sam coming back to the room, he was very much not expecting Sam home tonight. But a moment later Sam crept through the door, trying to be quiet, assuming Dean would be asleep by now.

“And what time do you call this?” Dean smirked from the bed, taking another drink.

“Gah!” Sam shouted, drawing his gun and aiming at Dean.

“Woah, easy tiger,” Dean held up his hands in peace, “s’jus me.”

“Jesus, Dean,” Sam groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face to compose himself. “Why are you still up?”

“Why are you already back?” Dean countered.

“Didn’t want to stay over,” Sam shrugged, shuffling to his bed and discarding his gun and jacket.

“Was he that bad?” Dean cringed.

“No,” Sam grimaced.

“Were you that bad?”

“Wh - no! I was not bad,” Sam shot back.

“Someone’s a little touchy,” Dean teased.

“Am not!”

“Definitely touchy,” Dean confirmed, more to himself than to Sam.

“Shut up dude,” Sam grunted, pulling off his shirts and throwing them into the dirty laundry bag he had inside his duffel. Dean stared at Sam’s bare back. Why not, right? Sam couldn’t see him doing it. His eyes traced the muscle definition, noticed the slight glisten of sweat that had no doubt arisen from Sam’s walk home, noticed a dark halo at the top of Sam’s shoulder that hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen Sam shirtless.

“What the fuck is that?” Dean staggered off his bed and over to Sam to poke at his shoulder.

“Huh?” Sam looked down to where Dean’s fingers were prodding the bruised ring of a bite mark on his skin. “Nothing, just uh- he got a bit excited.” Sam blushed.

Sam’s skin seared when Dean’s fingers landed on the bite mark Chase had left behind when he came. The touch had startled him but he didn’t flinch away, and now Dean was still standing there, just running his fingers over and over and over the mark.

“Whatever, man,” Sam shrugged his brother off and bent to grab a clean t-shirt out of his duffle bag but Dean’s hand on his chest stopped him. “Dean?” Dean didn’t answer, just kept Sam still and straight while he continued to trace the bruise with his eyes. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

Dean didn’t answer, he just stood there. Sam saw his tongue dart out and wet his bottom lip, followed by his teeth digging in, something he always did when he was thinking. Dean’s eyes were dark and clouded. He’d clearly been drinking the whole time Sam was gone, but there was a latent concentration behind the haze that had descended over them.

“What’s on your mind, man?” Sam turned out of Dean’s grip to face him.

“You know,” Dean sat down on Sam’s bed, bringing his head level with Sam’s waist. “A guy at the bar told me that I had, and I quote, ‘the best damn blowjob lips’ he’d ever seen,” Dean smirked lazily. If Sam had been drinking anything he would have spit it across the room.

“What?”

“What do you think?” Dean looked up at Sam, a new sort of determination in his eyes.

“What do I think about what?” Sam stuttered.

“Well, you’ve been around. You’ve been with guys. You get blowjobs, you give blowjobs too. You think I have good blowjob lips?”

Sam was flabbergasted. If his walk hadn’t done the job of sobering him up, this conversation definitely would have. He felt his throat closing up. He couldn’t tell Dean what he thought about his lips. He couldn’t tell Dean that he used to fantasise about his lips so much he would spit in his hand and pretend it was Dean’s mouth wrapped around his cock instead. “Wh - I … um.”

“You have good blowjob lips,” Dean stated matter of factly. “I remember, they were really good.”

“Um, thanks –” Sam’s voice came out much higher than he’d wanted, “– I guess.”

“Real pretty lips,” Dean mumbled, staring at Sam’s lips, then dragging his eyes down. Down Sam’s chest, and lightly defined abs, and the white strip of cotton peeking out of the waist of his jeans, to the button that all of the sudden Dean’s fingers were on.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam knew he should push his brother off himself but he was frozen in place, watching Dean’s fingers flicking the brass button through its buttonhole.

“Taking you up on your offer,” Dean grunted, tugging Sam’s jeans down his legs.

“What the he-”

“You said if I ever needed a hand figuring it out…” Dean dropped to his knees. “Well, I’m trying to figure it out, figure this out.” Dean gestured to the bulge in front of his face where Sam’s cock had started to chub up in his underwear. “Just, just let me?”

Dean looked up at Sam from his knees, his hands in the waist of Sam’s briefs. Sam looked down at him stoically, mouth gaping as he tried to calm his breathing. He nodded, and Dean nodded back, and gulped down his nerves. He tucked his fingers into the elastic and pulled the briefs down too, revealing Sam’s semi-erect cock.

Dean’s eyes lit up. Yeah he’d seen it before but never this close. He brought his hands up hesitantly, planting one on Sam’s thigh to steady himself, and bringing the other to brush against the head of his dick, which was still hanging down between his legs not standing tall yet. Sam hissed when Dean’s fingers brushed against him, and Dean darted his eyes back up to his brother’s face.

His eyes were crushed closed, lips parted and glistening in the low light of the lamp between their beds. Dean caressed his fingers along Sam’s length and watched his face contort, wrinkle and pinch. He wrapped his hand around the whole and squeezed lightly, drawing a gasp from Sam. The cock in his hand was nearly fully hard now, and Dean spotted a small bead of moisture at the slit. Without thinking about it at all he stuck his tongue out and touched it to the tip. Dean could swear what he heard from Sam then might have actually been a whimper.

He looked back up at Sam, fascinated by his face as he touched him. This time, when he brought his tongue back to Sam’s cock, he kept his eyes on Sam’s face and watched the pleasure rinse across it. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing but he had a dick, he knew what he liked people to do to it, he figured it couldn’t be that hard, right?

Dean licked his lips and kissed the tip of Sam’s cock, then kissed it harder, used his tongue, heard Sam moan. He uncurled his fingers and held Sam in his palm as he kissed down his shaft to the base and down, kissing across his balls. Sam moaned again. Right, Dean thought, time to actually do this. He licked a long strip up the vein that was pulsing obviously in Sam’s length and pulled the head into his mouth, giving an experimental suck.

“Aah,” Sam groaned, his hand landing on the top of Dean’s head and combing through his hair. Dean began to bob his head up and down a little, testing how it felt in his mouth. He found he really liked the feel of the skin against his tongue. There wasn’t something he could pinpoint it feeling like, but it was soft, smooth even though he could also feel the veins running close under the skin when he dragged his tongue along their lines.

Dean felt Sam’s hand travel to the back of his head, where it pushed forward slightly, encouraging him down further. He let Sam guide him, remembering at the last second to pull his lips over his teeth on the way down. Sam’s groan rattled through his body, and Dean smiled around the cock in his mouth, loving that he’d pulled that sound from his baby brother.

“So good,” Sam sighed under his breath. Dean’s eyes flicked back to Sam’s face as he sucked harder and pulled off.

“Is this okay?” Dean asked, pumping his fist around Sam teasingly.

“Yeah. God , yeah,” Sam moaned as Dean twisted his thumb over the tip. Sam’s hand slid around to Dean’s face and rested on his cheek, thumb stroking over his lips. “That guy was right,” Sam huffed, “you’ve got great blowjob lips.”

Dean smiled and darted his tongue out to wet his lips again, catching Sam’s thumb as he did. Sam made a little hum at the contact, so Dean did it again. He brought Sam’s thumb in his mouth and twirled his tongue around it, pulling a grunt from him. Dean’s eyes lit up.

“So, your cock isn’t the only thing you like me sucking on, then.”

“How about you shut up and keep sucking, hm?” Sam’s eyes were hard and burning, and Dean wasn’t about to disobey him. Sam’s thumb hooked into Dean’s cheek and pulled him back to his cock, dragging him down its length until he couldn’t breathe, his moans growing deeper the further Dean took him. “Now keep your head moving,” Sam instructed, tugging back on Dean’s hair so he understood. The sharp pull sent a thrill down Dean’s spine and a little moan escaped him, resonating through Sam.

“Yeah, that, do that,” Sam gasped, and Dean moaned again as he drew off Sam’s cock and plunged back down. “Fuck, you look pretty with my cock in your mouth,” Dean groaned in approval, trying to communicate to Sam how much he was appreciating the commentary.

“Oh, you like that? Like me telling you how hot you look on your knees for me? Want me to tell you how much I’ve wanted you there since Dany asked you to touch me?”

Dean’s moan choked off into something higher and more desperate than he would ever admit to. He really, really liked Sam talking to him. Redoubling his efforts, he started to move more quickly, hollowing his cheeks and sucking harder every time he pulled back. He kept one hand on the base of Sam’s cock, holding it in place so he could move around it, but his other hand crept down into his own boxers. Sam’s noises had all gone straight to Dean’s cock, and he’d been painfully hard for too long, he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

When Dean pulled his cock out from under his waistband he groaned at the cool air hitting it, and in relief at finally being able to touch himself properly. Sam felt Dean slow and peeled his eyes open to check what had changed. He caught sight of Dean’s hand around his own cock and chuckled darkly.

“I don’t think so,” Sam shook his head and used his leg to bat Dean’s hand away from himself. “You can touch yourself after I cum.”

Dean whined and took his hand off his cock, bringing it up to Sam’s instead.

“Good boy,” Sam smirked.

Now motivated by the fact that he couldn’t get himself off until he finished Sam, Dean tried to take his brother's cock deeper than he had been, but had to pull back when he gagged.

“Woah,” Sam tugged Dean back and rubbed his neck while he caught his breath. “You don’t need to kill yourself, dude,” he chuckled and brought Dean’s lips back to his cock.  “Just focus on the tip, keep that real nice and wet,” Dean followed the instruction eagerly and closed his lips around the ruddy head of Sam’s shaft. “Mm, yeah,” Sam groaned appreciatively, “and use your hands at the base, fuck, yeah, like that.”

Dean did what Sam said, suckling at the head of his cock enthusiastically, spit leaking from his lips, which he used to ease the glide of his hand along the shaft. He built his pace up, quicker and quicker, humming when he felt Sam start to tighten and heard his breath begin to catch.

“M’close, De, clos- shit !”

Dean felt Sam’s balls draw up tight to his body and fuck , if that wasn’t so hot. He pulled his lips tight around Sam and laved his tongue over the slit and something salty and warm gushed out. Dean moaned at the taste, his mouth falling open. Sam’s cum painted his tongue, spurted against his lips, dripped down his chin. It was filthy, and Dean loved it.

“Fuck,” Sam groaned, looking down at his big brother. “Lips look even better with my cum on them.” He reached out and smeared it around Dean’s mouth, pushing it back between his lips for Dean to swallow down.

Dean sucked down every drop Sam gave him, pulling another finger into his mouth. He figured he was safe now, and brought his hand back to his dick, squeezing to relieve the pressure that was building. As he stroked messily at himself he sucked harder on Sam's fingers, swirling his tongue around them in lyrical patterns and trying to memorise every groove of his fingerprints.

“Guess my cock is the only thing you like sucking on,” Sam panted teasingly, parodying Dean’s own words back to him. He dropped to his knees next to Dean and began to nuzzle against his brother’s neck, nipping and licking as he went.

Dean was past caring how desperate he looked, he needed to cum so badly he felt himself almost whine around Sam’s fingers in his mouth. Sam started to pump his fingers in and out, fucking Dean’s mouth while he frantically jerked himself off.

“God you really like this don’t you?” Sam whispered against Dean’s ear reverently. “Such a little slut for me,” he bit at Dean’s ear and brought his hand to join Dean’s on his cock. Sam’s touch was the final stroke for Dean, and he crumpled against Sam, coming over their hands with a hoarse shout and Sam’s fingers pressing against his tongue. He whimpered as Sam withdrew his fingers but that was quickly stifled when Sam brought his other hand to Dean’s lips, hesitantly, but Dean didn’t need to think about it before he lapped at Sam’s hand, sucking his own come off his baby brother.

Sam stared at Dean, soberly, cautiously, but still with the burn of arousal in his eyes. Dean met his gaze, eyes glassy and unfocused, still coming down from his high. Sam’s finger pulled out of his mouth.

“So,” Sam cleared his throat, “did that help?”

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