dsmp halloween oneshots

feel his promise

𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯'𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢

🦇˚｡･ﾟ

dream rolls over onto his side, brows furrowed in discontent.

he hasn't been able to sleep for hours now, unable to push away the desperate need buried deep in his stomach.

he's desperate to go to the sea, and he can't pinpoint why. the blond has always been one for the beach - he started surfing as a kid, his first job was a lifeguard, and even now he lives on the coast and works his job as a retail ceo at his nearby company.

a life of living by the sea, his days being oriented by the sand and the waves, yet he's still never felt such a calling like what he is experiencing now.

it's like a voice in his head, drilling in the thought that he has to be by the water, wading into the ocean and feeling the wet sand under his feet. he needs the salty air around him, the cool water running over his legs like silk.

he needs to be on the beach, feeling the warm sand and warmer sun and admiring the endless lengths of blue, stretched out between the faint outlines of land in the distance.

he's desperate. needy.

but it's three in the morning. it's early, he should be tired. he definitely should not be attempting to swim or surf or even just enjoy the sand beneath him. the blond desperately needs to sleep, especially knowing he has an early meeting the next morning with a company interested in land that he owns.

but he can't sleep. he's tried and tried, twisted and turned, and nothing has seemed to work.

the blond tries to reason with himself, calculating if going down to the sea for five minutes would be a good idea. he knows he shouldn't, but the chance that it may stop the insatiable want in his heart makes it seem like a worthy use of his time.

so he gets out of bed, internally cursing his spontaneous urges as he pries himself out of the sheets and up to his feet.

no one will be out at this time, he knows with certainty, so he doesn't even waste his time putting on shoes or changing out of his messy t-shirt and shorts as he crosses over to the opposite side of his bedroom and pushes open the sliding glass doors that look out onto the sea.

he steps outside, the air feeling cool so late at night, but still nowhere near cold, and closes the doors again behind him as he walks over to his steps. there is sand scattered up them from walking to and from the beach so often, and dream makes a mental reminder that he needs to clean them off as he walks down onto the sand.

it's still warm under his bare feet, even despite the cool night.

the wind isn't heavy, but it's stronger than it usually is during the day, so dream reaches up to pull all his hair back and uses the hair tie he keeps on his wrist to secure it into place. sometimes he thinks he should get it cut, but he feels like he's only really himself when he's surfing with his wet, blond waves.

he inhales a deep breath of air, trying to enjoy the moment and satisfy that craving in his chest but it doesn't seem to go.

he can feel it in his heart.