#i'm not sure what to tag those three uhh

[calciumdreams]

The papyri!

These are my little au variations (and those last three that live in my head and do crimes,, I could have added some more aus, you are lucky I spared your eyes)

[nereidprinc3ss]

hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸

uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗

hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!

warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending

You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind. 

“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup. 

“Please, stop apologizing.” 

You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses. 

“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...” 

You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy. 

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.” 

“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.” 

“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.” 

“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.  

“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?” 

A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks. 

“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.” 

You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.  

“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.” 

An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat. 

“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.” 

“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.” 

When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically. 

“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box. 

You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap. 

Says Spencer Reid? 

“...sorry?” 

He flushes, stammering to clarify himself. 

“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”  

“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.” 

He swallows and nods. 

“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.  

“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.” 

More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.” 

“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.” 

But you're not crying because he was nice.  

Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear. 

His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks. 

“I meant every word.” 

You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say. 

“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.” 

Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending. 

“Had?” 

The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart. 

“Yeah. You know what changed?” 

“What’s that?” 

Absolutely nothing. 

“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.” 

Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes. 

“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?” 

“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.” 

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?” 

You sniff, looking to the ceiling. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.” 

More silence. 

“But you don’t believe it.” 

A bitter laugh poisons the air around you. 

“I don’t know.  I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.” 

A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head. 

“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?” 

“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.  

You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him. 

“What?” 

His voice shakes slightly as he speaks. 

“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.” 

“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.” 

“That’s... that’s not how I know.” 

Your heart drops as you study his face.  

No. 

Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying. 

Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be. 

You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.” 

“What are you doing? Don’t--” 

You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks. 

“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—” 

A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks 

“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?” 

With nothing left to give, you turn to him. 

“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.” 

He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks. 

“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.” 

Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible. 

“You... you like me?” 

“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—” 

Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.

And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—” 

You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.

“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.” 

“You said you used to like me, past tense—” 

“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?” 

“No, but—” 

“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?” 

“Of course I have.” 

“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?” 

Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.  

Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks. 

“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.” 

“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is. 

Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face. 

“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.” 

A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes. 

“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.” 

“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine. 

“I do.” 

“Will you kiss me?” 

“If that’s what you want.” 

You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway. 

When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.

To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to. 

“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?” 

A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing. 

“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.” 

“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again. 

------------------------------------------ 

epilogue

Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought. 

“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes. 

“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!” 

“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.” 

“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.” 

“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.” 

Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention. 

“Spencer?” 

He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought. 

“What does pulchritude mean?” 

It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

And so you let it float away. 

[rafescurtainbangz]

Distractions - Rafe Cameron One Shot +18

Minor DNI

Frat!Rafe x Female Reader

Ask:

Eek!!! Thanks for your ask! Frat!Rafe has a special place in my cewchie heart. I hope you're having a great weekend!

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Tag list

Tags: @imyourdaninow @humanvampire13 @akashababy @dckweed @ashamedtobeawhitemanswhore27

@marahgubler @joannamuns9n @h34rtsformilli @romaescapes @jayla @randymeeksistheloml @waywardsoul113 @gri959 @redhead1180

Warnings: SMUT, language, name-calling, drinking

Tiddie fucking, pet names (baby girl, rafey, baby), choking, spitting, tit slapping, cum play, degradation, Rafe is distracted, reader teases Rafe

✨Lightly edited✨

Rafe’s POV:

Four years and not a single loss, and here I stand, three cups away from defeat because I can’t stop staring at her fuckin’ tits.

“For fuck sake, Cameron. Can you-”

“Focus, Top? I am.” I snip in frustration as her friend hugs her from the side, pushing her breasts together. I swallow hard, trying my best to concentrate in the same breath as my defense. It's useless. Her body was made for sex. Made for me. Look at those fucking tits. She's mine. Sex... All the fucking time. Whenever I want. Just gotta get her alone.

“You're a mess,” Topper chuckles as he pulls yet another SOLO cup off the rack, lifting it to his lips

She lofts the ball, landing it in the front cup. Kill me now. Her tits move with her, bouncing as she celebrates with her sorority sister, blissfully unaware of the anguish she’s putting me through as well as the pressure of the hard-on in my jeans.

One of my frat brothers walks by, resting a hand on the small of her back. She looks over her shoulder; his gaze drifting from her cleavage to her eyes. She smiles brightly as he feeds her some bullshit line. “Time out!” I boom from across the table, pulling her attention back to me.

Top turns to face me, but I swerve around him, working my way to the other end as her doe eyes match mine, widening as they stare up at me. “You okay, Rafe?” She asks sweetly; her lashes flutter innocently, back slightly arched. The muscles in my body tighten as I hold back my primal urges to gawk. I scrunch my nose and suck my teeth in annoyance. “Rafe?”

“Uh yeah,” I breathe as I lean in a little closer. “You gotta stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Sure,” I sneer. “You have any clue how distracting you are? It's driving me insane.” She nibbles at her plump bottom lip, biting back a smile. “Wait… You do? Don't you?”

“M’sorry,” she sighs in a pouty voice, not a single ounce of actually “sorry” in her sorry.

“After we win, you're comin’ with me.”

“To do what?” She giggles as she steps a little closer.

“Like you don't know,” I chuckle breathily. “Someone needs to teach you a lesson. Nobody teases me. And, I don't fuckin’ lose.” She cocks an eyebrow at me, challenging me with her gaze.

“Looks like you're about to lose, Rafey,” she taunts as she nods to the table.

“Easy, princess-”

“Hey, uhh, we good?” Topper cuts in.

“Yeah, Top. We're great,” I smile, never losing eye contact with her. My frat brother walks by again, surveying the scene, giving me the perfect opportunity to stake my claim. I clear the void, pulling her lips to mine. Fuck, she’s sweet. She grabs my shirt, twisting it in her fingers, pulling me even closer. Her boobs press against my chest; the feeling alone making me want to end it all. “You're mine when we're done. Clear?” I mumble against her lips, making her smile again.

“You're cocky,” she breathes.

“M’cocky now. Huh?”

“I love it,” she sighs.

“Mmm… mine. You're mine. A’ight?”

I guide her back to her side before walking away. Rubbing a shit-eating grin off my lips, I do my best to get my head back in the game. I'm having her regardless… This is just foreplay for me.

She smiles at me from across the table, gloss-lipped and stunning, her hair freshly tossed to the side. Her cheeks blush as I give her a little wink. And, just like that, the tables have turned. She wets her ball, flicking off the water, aiming as her tongue pokes out in concentration. She hurls it too far, hitting me in the thigh, making me wince in fake pain. She rolls her eyes and scoffs, her already pink cheeks reddening further.

I lift my finger, tapping on my temple. “I'm in your head,” I mouth through a smile. She shakes her head ‘no’, crossing her arms across her chest. Fuck me. Her tits practically spill out of the top of her little party dress, an obscene amount of cleavage, derailing my focus yet again. Her eyes fall, trailing my fixation, landing on her breasts as well, making me swallow hard. Her lashes flick to mine, fully aware of just what part of her was truly that distracting that I had to pause the game.

“Am I’m in yours, Rafey?” She mouths in retort as she drops her hands, resting her palms against the table, leaning in as her eyes stay zeroed in on mine.

“Holy shit,” Topper mumbles, falling victim to her tactics as well.

“For fuck sake, Top-”

“Can you focus,” he finishes my sentence; roles reversed. “Yeah… Yeah. Have fun with her, buddy.”

++++++++

“Goddamn, baby,” I groan as I cup as much of her tits as I can get in my hands, squeezing them tight. She reaches down, looping her tiny fingers around the string of her thong. “Stop,” I smile. This round’s about me. It ain't about you. You lost. I won… I get my prize, and I'm fuckin’ your tits.”

“Rafe-”

“Shut up,” I chuckle teasingly. “Shut. Up. This is a lesson. A’ight. M’teaching you a lesson. And, later, when I got you cryin’ and whinin’ for my dick,” I groan as I draw my boxer off my body. “I might let you bounce on it.”

“Rafey, please…”

“Nobody teases me, y/n,” I smile as I tuck some hair behind her ear.

My lips lock with hers as I lift her off her feet and into my arms, gripping her round ass in my hands, feeling as she grinds her needy pussy into me. The soaked material wets my warm skin, teasing me further.

Tits now… Pussy later.

🩷 Y/N’s POV:

Rafe tosses you down onto the bed, boobs bouncing on impact as he licks his lips hungrily. “M’so wet, Rafe. Please,” you whimper as your fingers wrap around his rock-hard cock, tracing all nine inches to his fat head. His ab muscles flex tightly as you run your finger across his tip, collecting his precum before bringing it between your lips.

“Trust me,” Rafe smiles as he reaches over to his nightstand, snagging out some lube, “I felt that pussy, princess. You're a mess. Shame you were such a cock-tease. Hmm? Teasin’ me with these-” Rafe’s massive hands palm your tits, pushing them together before gliding his ruddy cock in between. His eyes roll back in his skull, practically growling at the sensation. Rafe sits down on top of you, crushing you with his weight. He lets out a sigh of relief, like that's all he wanted.

His parted lips curl into a smile as he watches you crank your neck, tongue snaking around his swollen cock head. “Fuck. You’re a little slut, f’me. Aren't you?”

“I am, Rafe. Holy shit,” you whimper as you cup your tits, pressing them together for him.

"You look so good... Oh my god," he moans as he draws out, quickly pushing himself back in. "Perfect tits. Fuck, baby girl," Rafe hails as he starts to roll his body; his aching tip popping through your cleavage each time, glistening with lube.

"You're so big," you whisper, making a smirk play on his parted lips. "I could make you feel so good.”

“Got no doubt about that,” he rasps, thrusting into you at the perfect pace, making you envious of your own boobs.

"Fuck, Rafe!" You whine as he gives you a show, his long cock gliding in and out again and again, making your cunt throb.

"You're gonna bounce on me later. Yeah? Grind you pretty little pussy while I suck on your tits." He slaps your breast, making you squeal.

"Y-Yes, daddy," you stammer. He smacks your other tit making your pussy clench around nothing as he continues to stroke.

Your thighs squeeze together, the visual stimulation enough to get you there as you watch Rafe use your body like a toy. You feel heat growing in your stomach as your thighs begin to shake.

He snatches your wrist, forcing it lower. “Play with your pussy, baby. I know you wanna.” You drop your legs to the mattress, splaying your thighs as you push your panties to the side; fingers rolling on your clit, making you moan. You grip your tit with one hand, Rafe clutching the other as he picks up speed, your body embarrassingly close to cumming already.

Rafe’s other hand comes around your throat squeezing tightly, making your eyes widen, sending you over the edge. "Oh fuck, Rafe!" You cry out, pussy fluttering wildly.

"Jesus.” He lets out a wicked laugh. “All from watching me. Huh? That’s some whore shit right there. Fuck. You look even prettier when you cum," he moans as his thrusts get messy. “Open your mouth, slut. Swallow it all. Yeah?”

You flatten your tongue as Rafe rises up on his knees, towering over you as he fists his cock fast. His eyes strain to stay open as he cums on your breasts and neck, your chin, up to your open mouth. You swallow what you're given, running your middle finger along your chin as Rafe tries to steady his breathing, sucking your digit clean, making him smile.

He grips your boobs in his large hands again, swirling his tongue on your soft skin, circling your nipples, licking a line through your cleavage, cleaning his mess before spitting it in your mouth. You swallow again as his beautiful blue eyes stare into yours. Rafe kisses you deeply, tongue reeling; the sweetness of his lips paired with his salty cum.

Rafe rolls you on top of him, rough fingers trailing down your spine as a smile stretches on his lips. “Lesson learned, princess?” He mumbles between kisses.

“No…” You sigh before sucking off his bottom lip nice and slow.

“No?” He chuckles.

“Guess you're just gonna have to try again.”

[lizaluvsthis]

A Chamber of Burning Souls - Chapter 1

Fanfic Written and Illustrated by @lizaluvsthis

Idea of creation by @itsajjanea

●■●

Summary: It's Prom and everyone is invited to celebrate at Square Plaza, having no partners left to find. SMG4 and SMG3 both paired together.

With Four having no experience of what Prom is at all, he happens to find himself binded with his ex rival filled with complicated thoughts.

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Sun and Moon, fluff, romance, drama, hurt/comfort, angst, gay fruits are real, LOVE IS IN THE AIR YALL

Relationships:

SMG4/SMG3

Mario & Meggy Spletzer

Meggy & SMG4

Mario & SMG4

Mario & SMG3

Meggy/Tari

Luigi/Bowser

Mario/Spaghetti¿

Bob & Mario

Chapter: 1 - A Night Bring Out

thus the sun has continued to set from the horizon as four is calmly watching the view afar, the cold breeze blew through his hair sitting outside.

"SMG4?" Mario called his bestfriend, seeing him sitting on a chair admiring the view. Mario snuck behind him, distracted "still having those gay thoughts?" He chuckled, making four bounce from his chair with a light scare from the fat italian.

"N-No I'm not!" He brushed off the dirt from his blue colored suit. Man does he love how his formal attire looked, where he can move freely and relaxed.

"You sureee????" "Yes I am." He looked away from Mario with a light pink faded blush surrounding his face. "Have you uhh found a partner?" SMG4 looked at Mario.

"I'm with bob, he said his girlfriend can't attend" "what about the others?" "Hmmmmmm" Mario did his best to remember the pairings from his team.

"Meggy is in pairs with Tari, Saiko is with Kaizo since they're both hosting a side played oncore songs, Boopkins is- he's with his waifu bed, Chris with Swag, Melony is just- sleeping-" figures. Melony is always too tired whenever she's awake, but for some reason- it feels like he won't be getting in partners with anyone else...

"Andd uhhh for Luigi- luigi is-" SMG4 shot a glance of the familiar green colored signature and ran. "Hey! SMG4?" Mario saw Four rush out of there and got back from the room to talk to luigi.

"Hey! Luigi..." "wah? SMG4? What is it?" "Do you want to be partners with me for prom?" Luigi eye-d to another side and furrowed his eyes giving him a smile. "Oh- uh- sorry SMG4 I'm already left partners with someone..."

"Oh come on! I bet I can still be as good as that partner this is bullsh-t!" SMG4 cursed out loud, hearing something approach to him was a giant... lizard-?

"Ahe- ahem!" SMG4 gulped looking upwards to reveal, it was bowser out of all people. He was tossed by a massive force by bowser across the room, with no one to notice.

"Ow..." his back couldn't move after cracking a wall. "SMG4! Are you okay?!" The voice sounded nothing like Mario, a man reached out a hand to help him get up.

"Yes I'm..." He paused, looking up to see the person. SMG3... his former ex rival... a 'friend'... is there to attend the prom as well.

He stared at his face for a moment, and boy how he felt something inside him flutter and beat. "I'm alright..." He finally gave him a reply, getting back up from the floor acting like nothing happened.

"You got yourself tossed in that room dude- you sure you're alright?" SMG4 felt distracted by looking at his 'friend' from top to bottom.

He had his hair up in a bun, (honestly- when did he missed out the part he had long hair?) His looks are still the same but it came out more handsome than the last time he saw him without a hat on, his dark purple silk suit that the light reflects on the shades, he was wearing a different gloves that has the usual roman numeral but with white color text with black gloves filled.

His magenta necktie, his long black pants, shining clean black shoes that exposed from his view. Since WHEN did SMG3 became this more of a neat character to get so- well dressed...?

Or its just four not knowing how fashion works-

"Yeah I'm hurt a little bit but I'll be fine-" he gave him a nervous chuckle, not wanting three to feel worried of him. SMG3 wanted to speak about this but he didn't find the urge to do so. Now that his soft spot might reveal a bit too much.

"You got invited too huh?" SMG3 nodded. "I uhh- couldn't find a decent partner to pair up with... not even when I enjoy less party talks yet I still come here..." He looked at the other of the members who are currently talking with the other people.

"You haven't- found a pair yet?" SMG4 asked again, he wondered why Three even came here despite knowing that he hates occassional events except for evil villain anniversaries or such as getting paid.

But for just this time, he attended anyway. "No I haven't... thats why I'm asking several of the people here- but they all already found one..." SMG3 hugged his stomach, the felt of discomfort attempting on asking for someone to be his partner and didn't work out too well when you're bad at talking in public.

More as of being socially awkward to people that gave out his anxiety... but to SMG4 however, he felt safe to be around with yet he wasnt even sure why.

His ex rival just felt too safe to be with, he didnt have complains for that. It felt nice...

Because he'd never felt needed by any other people from his life...

SMG4 is unsure at this state he's on with, he struggled and hesitated to put out the words of apologizing. He wasn't used to this type of sensitive talk.

"I also haven't found mine yet-" he started to stare at those red crimson eyes... "do you... want to be partners with me instead?" Out of the ordinary, SMG3's face lit up after hearing SMG4 say that.

Did he just hear this right. Is it actually true that Four is asking him out to be his... his... HIS... he turned red second by second.

"I-I uhh... Yeah sure whatever- just try not to mess things up- you baka..." the blue held out his hand for three to grab on, as four smiled still with three on being a tsundere. It never gets old.

Three accepted, embracing his left hand with four colliding in. With now both fingers interlocked, that was purposely done by SMG4.

"Dude- are you TRYING to make things look even more gayer?" SMG3 looked down at both of the hands then back to the man himself.

"Just- incase..." SMG4 pouted, he couldn't come up with a reason. He did this on purpose and he'd been making it a bit more awkward with this between just him and three.

The chattering went low as the host made his way out of the door and welcomed everyone.

"Welcome to the square plaza everyone! We are so excited to gather you all for our occasional prom! Now go out there and get yourself started!"

He offered to everyone by stepping aside from the open door, being a gentleman to let everyone inside.

"Well... here it goes..." SMG4 walked forward as Three followed a few steps near, little did four know is that Three kept glancing at their interlocked hands together thinking the forms of something special...

Something... something that also made SMG4 feel the same but more tensed...

SMG4 couldn't process much of the things that are currently happening to him right now. Why has this have to go very wrong yet right at the same time? Why did he have to come even tho he didn't want to?

He'd started to overthink with all of his actions that he had made. In regret...

(Why did I even came here... I should've stayed at the castle...) He clinched the hand even tighter, holding Three's.

But it had made him thought, for any other reasons it somehow made him feel glad that he was there.

"Good evening everyone! We are all gathered here for a special event- aka prom." The other host guestured their hand with the obvious sign.

"The dance will begin at 7pm, just to say you can go talk to any other people here or have some snacks while everyone enjoys their stay!" The microphone turns off, entering a soothing audio played in the background.

-A Night To Remember by beabadoobee & Laufey-

The man in purple looked at the sparkling chandelier placed right on top of the ceiling the lights that glimmered through the glass.

Swore I'd seen you before

Within the atmosphere flowing through the colors of pink, red, and purple. Mixtures of blue, the colors fading through the room.

Watched you walk through the door

The beam of light, shining across Four's face with an escape of the light. Reflecting through his blue colored eyes that took notice of the red ones.

Somethin' in your eye

Reminded me of somebody I used to know

Damn... SMG4 looked glorious... he hated that...

Three's eyes happen to gaze upon to Four's with the room surrounded by the soft sounds, they both met each others eyes.

You touched my back

I took your hand

Somethin' from your touch felt shockingly familiar

He didn't know what that feeling was, it just felt right for him to do. If this would only be only focused to him, where would his thoughts go?

And I swore I'd seen you before

Oh, I swore I'd seen you before...

They both felt so lost, but being there together with him?

Underneath the sheets

You enchanted me

And whispered sweet nothings in my ear

It felt romantic...

I shivered beneath you

All wrapped up in embers

It was a night... to remem-

"Is it just me or are you both staring goo goo eyes at each other thats super gay-" The fat italian called them both out ruinimg their silence.

"SHUT UP YOU ASS" SMG3 looked at Mario annoyed, he who had ruined their moment. "We're not gay!" SMG4 cried out loud, with the crowd bringing their attention from his scream. He smiled to fill out the apology trying his best not to disrupt them.

SMG4 turned his head back to Mario and eyed Three. "It seemed like it-" he shrugged his shoulder, drinking an orange juice from the cup.

"Look you idiot- I came here to get over with the party. I'm not saying I'm a party pooper in this, I was only trying to..." he gave a pregnant pause after realizing that he had almost revealed his words to him.

"To- uh- not miss out on the occassions and stuff..." his eyes darted towards Mario after he shot up his eyes with Four.

He checked the time...

6:55 pm

Almost seven o-clock before the dance begins, and just being in there with him... it felt like time passes by too quickly by seconds...

"Oh! I think I should go now- Mario wishes you two gay boys goodluck!" He puts a thumbs up to the both of them and headed to Bob's direction.

The two looked at each other in disbelief, had they both been staring too long? Did the song dragged them away into this...?

How can this be?

SMG4 is unsure, he was too scared about this feeling. Little does he know is that Three also scattered with the same thing as well...

End of Chapter 1...

--------

Previous Chapter - Prologue

Next Chapter - Sway me More [PENDING...]

[reveseke]

Unreasonable for the time

–Criminal minds; BAU x unsub! male! reader – Requested(link) by @jaythes1mp, also tagging @lovelybeardedsuit – not the proudest moments for me with writing, i'm painfully aware it's not excalty what you requested but loosely around it if i can say so? went in for romantic feelings and came back by admiration and appreciation pipe(?). also apologies it's taken me quite the while to write. - warnings; uhh smallish nitpick at grotesque description maybe? human taxitermy + (aspiring/well known) artist/taxitermist reader. evidence withholding is mainly used as a tactic of sabotaging. The reader has burns on his hands for some reason. nothing really, lemme know if i missed something. – oh, also since i don't write for Rossi or the women of the BAU team romantically you have to suffer with mainly Reid, Morgan, and Hotch being unreasonable. there's no real ending here either, i wrote it in one sitting brain on speed dial bc i got fed up with drafts. i'll see myself out now. – WC; 1,255 k

the case was supposed to be an average one, but that hope turned to ash as the team had a look at the case file. There had been a surge in numbers when it came to cold cases dropping like flies every now and then over the past few months. two to three new victims, unable to be connected due to them being in different states over the lines. the team wasn't sure what to make out of the situation as they tried to gather everything they needed.

Sweet talking one up, a well dressed man greeted the woman with an open smile as he led her to the shop. tallying up how many he had already collected and how the cat she had brought would be a fine one to mount.

the victims were often found frozen in one place, not literally just mounted and taxitermed. their limbs were broken in several places, often they had a crown made of bones adorned upon their heads-later on those bones weren't theirs but a combination of every victim–as the victims were often laid naked or with a small coverage upon their bodies. Reid had pointed out that they all shared the crown, and often were gutted inside out with their organs removed and replaced by ones made out of clay or glass.

Penelope on the other hand had analyzed the often seen carved or burned into the skin of the victim a signature of an artist. she had spoken about how familiar it looked to her, but she just couldn't find anything with it. maybe the tech could have seen it coming if she had looked to her left in the office she was so often occupied in and decorated with silly things she found joy and comfort in.

that one particular small glass item, even if it seemed so meaningless always carried R/n passion in it as he continued on working with what he had been given. He had to show them, the corruption of the world nobody seemed to understand that wiped the earth off its goodness.

looking at the crime photos and notes that had been sent over and already thought about by the various police who worked on them. the team couldn't help but to wonder whether it was all or if there was more they never found. Hotch spoke along JJ and Prentiss with the victim's families mosty, as Garcia went down the histories and records of the wretched beings along.

Derek had gone to the mortuary, the tech had called them up with a finding from inside the victim's throat and stomach. it was ultimately the only organ that had been left untouched, the stomach of the victim that had been filled to the bring with papers. written and forced down his throat the crimes he had committed with the same symbol that finally started to click as the others saw it.

And Reid had been sent off to the most recent crime scene. to see what would have made the placement of the police significant to the crime. they had seen a pattern in how the unsub placed his work. often it was around the places that matched up with the most vicious parts of their histories. sometimes the vicious part was all about things they did that the public never knew about.

Watching the press conference in his shop, writing down the phone number that had been laid out for anyone to call if they needed to report something suspicious. oh, how he loathed them for overseeing it and doing so little, trying to bury him down so the world never never saw his work. that work R/n bled for, burns adorning his own hands as he scoffed wiping sweat from his brow.

he still couldn't understand why they wished to silence him. ripping the flesh that he had to mount by his own hands and with the assistance of scissors as he opened the chest of the victim in his hands. with glue and wire he rewired the rib cage's bones and broke down the cartilage that held it together on the front of it.

it felt like they were missing something obvious, looking through the files and the reports Reid had asked Garcia to look into the pasts of the victims.

he was a whore, merely someone who slept his way to his position but even R/n had to admit he was a handsome one. he wasn't a model for no reason, but his upbringing while not entirely his own fault didn't slip past him. he didn't care, she had to bleed for her crimes. and hey, they don't speak of true beauty without the pain of it.

it felt surreal to hear the man's voice in the playback video of the stream that he did. Hotch looked forward as he discussed it with Rossi and Garcia. asking the tech to send the video to his tablet so he could show it to the others, as it showcased how the young man was quite literally speaking of his newest victim as an upcoming collab. As Garcia had worried her mind around the signature she did end up recognising as one of the uprising artists' signatures.

it came as a shock to her to learn that he was quite literal with what he meant with his art, he wasn't just showcasing an opinion anymore, it was a question of morals. and neither were the others ready to admit to it, none of them had properly met the man but the way he had made a name for himself really screamed that of innocence, they always felt like something was missing. endangering the case, multiple people had been withholding information due to finding it difficult to actually think such a sweet person would be behind this.

Morgan never told them about all the papers that had text in them that the techs found in the stomach of the multiple victims. how if composed right did end up with a message that sounded that of utter nonsense. in truth it did showcase lots of how his own mind worked and how he had been struggling with it. he intended to turn his pain into art, literally by showcasing what happens to those who lie within this life.

Reid had withheld the history connection between the victims and him, how they had all either known each other or ran into each other at some point in life. he had told Garcia that he would tell the others about it. he never did.

one may call him an utter madman at this point, he was getting sloppier with what he was doing in the first case with the victims. many who viewed his art either were creeped out about the surrealism of it, or either seemed to understand that the man was merely showcasing his emotion fueled art. one finds something as that undescribeable, and others as the most touching thing ever.

yet to all even through his faults none of them found him to be possibly guilty of what had happened. It was unreasonable Prentiss had argued with Hotch about it, before for their unresponsiveness and denying the artist of being the unsub.

none of them really felt ashamed of it, but it did make a surprise for each of the three men that they held the same opinion of the young man.

[gayhawkelatehomicide]

Names

Honestly I... Don't know what this is. It possessed me and now it's here. Uhh I know that headcanoning Anders a name other than yanno, Anders, isn't everybody's cup of tea, so fair warning? It's not like I plan to have anybody call him that, I just wanted to think about what this conversation might look like and the name bit me. So here, have a handers that I wrote in like 20 minutes on my phone.

***

Word Count: 1339

Rating: G

Additional Tags: Hawke is an adorable dork with a heart of gold and no one will take this from me, cat bf and dog bf are the best kind of relationship, genuinely could not tell you where this came from, names and naming, the importance of calling a thing by the correct name so as to be able to recognize and understand it, boyfriends being soft about stuff that hurt a long time ago

***

Hawke walks in already complaining. Anders smiles and puts down his quill to stretch his aching hand, feeling a twinge of annoyance in the back of his head at being interrupted. He recognizes it for what it is—not entirely his own reaction, but not entirely that of his passenger—and ignores it. He was going to go to bed soon anyway. By the time Anders gets turned all the way around, Hawke has leaned his staff in the corner and is peeling out of the top layer of his robes.

"You know nobody in this entire city but you calls me by my given name? Seriously, think about it! With most of the citizenry, especially the ones in Hightown, it's 'Champion' all day long. 'Oh Champion, my brother's caravan is late' and 'Champion please, you have to help my mother,' and 'Dear Champion, my cat went up that tree and can't get down. Again.' It's as though they've all forgotten I have a name instead of just a title." He unties the fastenings on the leather cuirass he wears between his outer robe and the sweat-stained under-layer. The poor clasps creak protest at Hawke's enthusiasm.

"And I know at least some of them know it! Fifi de Launcet used to simper at me when we first bought the house and Mother was trying to get me married off respectably. Sure, a few of them probably think it's a compliment or some nonsense, but you'd think at least Lady Elegant would call me Garrett every now and then. If not in the course of business, then maybe when I'm poking around her stall doing something irritating."

He bends at the waist to unlace his boots, presenting Anders with a lovely view of his ass as he struggles with laces that he obviously tied while they were still wet. Hawke has been through four sets of laces for those boots in the past few months because he's too impatient to let them dry before jamming his feet in them and running off to do whatever it is he does when he's out of Anders's direct line of sight.

"Most of our friends don't use my given name either, did you notice? Varric calls me Hawke like it's a title more than Champion, which is *fine*," he manages to get one boot off, mostly by sheer brute strength. The sock comes with it. "Even Aveline doesn't three-name me when I'm misbehaving, just says," and here he drops into a worryingly accurate imitation of Aveline. "Hawke, if I catch you trying to breathe fire in the Lowtown market one more time, I swear-!"

The other boot comes loose with enough force to nearly knock Hawke off his feet. He catches himself with all the grace and poise of a moderately sized druffalo, then grins triumphantly over his shoulder at Anders, holding up the boot. The look on his face is incredibly similar to the look his mabari wears when he drops dead vermin (or, on one memorable occasion, a mangled burglar) at his master's feet. Anders applauds politely.

Hawke kicks the boots into the corner by the fire and starts on his greaves and bracers, still talking. "Hell, even the villains and other assorted bastards whose teeth we kick in regularly call me 'dog lord' or 'mage' or something equally obvious. You'd think at least one of them would've done his research. Evets, maybe, of Evets' Marauders. You remember them, don't you love?"

Anders does. Distinctly. He remembers wrapping Isabela in shield after shield as her quick fingers teased apart rows of traps while Hawke traded bolts of fire and sneering retorts with the blood mage on the other side of the bluff, and Aveline kept her shield between the mages and that terrifying longbowman. He remembers the reek of burnt flesh and armor and the despair in the eyes of the guardsmen, and the way they'd rallied around their captain and Hawke. He remembers the way more of them died, pinned with arrows or rent apart to fuel the blood mage's spells. Anders makes a noncommittal noise, which Hawke takes as an agreement.

"You'd think maybe that guy would've learned my name, right? I mean, he spent what, three years tracking me down? Some kind of criminal he was, I've been in the same place the whole time, but it's not like I care." Hawke sets the last pieces of his armor in a pile on the desk and flings himself diagonally across the bed. His curly black hair fans out around his head—it's getting deliciously long now—and he throws an arm over his eyes. The other one continues gesturing emphatically.

"Shit, even Carver just calls me 'brother' most of the time. The last letter he wrote home barely sounded like he was talking to me at all, just a quick update and one of his sullen little 'try not to get yourself killed too stupidly' things at the end. What is this resistance to using my given name, huh? It doesn't make any sense. I have a good name, I think. Mother made plenty of mistakes, but that wasn't one of them. Why does Kirkwall hate my name?"

Anders is gripped by a strange impulse. Later, he'll pick it apart looking for Justice's influence, but in the moment all he's thinking about is Hawke's running complaint and how the names a person wears can come to define them.

"Valery," he blurts before he can stop himself, then clenches his mouth and eyes shut.

Hawke makes an inquiring noise from the bed. The sound of sheets shifting, presumably as he sits up. "What was that, love?"

Anders grapples with a long-kept promise to himself for a long moment before giving up and sighing. He's said it already. Too late to take it back now. He might as well explain. Besides, Hawke already knows every terrible thing about him. What's a name, compared to that?

"Valery," he repeats. "It's the name my mother gave me. She was from the Anderfels; wanted to name me after her brother. My father didn't like it much, but he always let her have her way. Well, almost always."

The old bitterness threatens to swamp him, so Anders forces a smile onto his face and looks up at Hawke, still on the bed, looking stricken. "I've no clue why the templars didn't make a note of it, but when they took me to the circle they claimed they didn't know my name, just that I was half-Ander. I've been Anders ever since."

Hawke is out of bed and across the room in the space of a few heartbeats. He kneels on the floor at Anders's feet. Takes his hands in his own. "Oh, love. I'm sorry. I didn't think... Do you want-?"

"No, it's fine," Anders shakes his head. "It hasn't been my name for a long time." He squeezes Hawke's fingers, feeling the callouses and old breaks that didn't set right, the faint tremors that tell of using too much force magic without a focus. The way this city weighs on him day after day, expectations pressing, thousands of lives depending on his actions, is always evident in his hands. He always claims they don't bother him, but Anders sees the way he grasps his cup more gingerly on cold mornings than he did years ago, and he knows how quickly a hand massage turns Hawke into a puddle of warm goo. Anders squeezes Hawke's hands, feeling his smile warm into something genuine.

"Valery." He says it so carefully, the same way he's treated every fragile broken-glass part of Anders since the moment they met. The old name sounds so beautiful in his voice, and with his big dark eyes turned up like a sinner in prayer, he looks like a penitent angel. "It's a beautiful name, love. Thank you for trusting me with it."

Anders really can't be blamed for knocking them both to the floor in his rush to kiss Hawke as thoroughly as physically possible.

[simiansmoke]

@citizensofeggton cont.

"Pft, 'general'? That seems like a tall title for somebody shorter than one of these." Lifting a trunk of an arm where a series of three of the Kong kids hung- one over handed, one underhanded, and the other by the legs, looking more like a family of opossums than apes. A burst of flexes via his bicep cause the tag-alongs to squeeze their perch tighter and laugh while also engaging in the age-old activity of trying to make each other fall off via tickle attacks. "I never said it made me special." The Kong prince shrugs, also illiciting a chorus of chitters from the tailed Konglings on his shoulders. "Just one of those 'is what it is' so might as well take the rizz sorta things."

After one last dab to the sniffling kid's face, DK tucks the end of his tie into a grubby little hand and lightly loops it once around the conjoined wrist. There...a child leash. With a nod to signal they were all set to get back on the path towards the ice cream kart he figured would be at the beach at this point of the day with the sun high and demanding some way of cooling off, he begins to pad forward again towards the end of the dock where saw grass and sand swallowed up wooden planks and a path of Kong prints made a trail through the dunes.

Curious about the ape comment, he raised a brow at her assertion. "So you're saying...your kingdom's got Kongs? Dunno how far away you are, but that's kinda weird. The Jungle Kingdom's the only place as far as I know that we call home. Well...maybe after that big mess with the fruit tribes." Though his tone was pondering, he couldn't help the bitter taste forming in his mouth, though spitting to the side helps. Almost as if on cue, several of the Konglings copied him and eagerly spat into the sand. A good role model, for sure.

The kid he'd tethered continued to walk along, seemingly content to have something to hold onto - even if it wasn't a fluffy tail. They still stole a look over at their short and fuzzy chaperone, though flinched when she made mention of how tough they were even though they'd snotted up a bit back there, though not really from a scuff or a scrape, but moreso the feeling like they'd gotten in trouble for continuing to chase it. The reassurance is enough to earn a shy smile complete with a missing front tooth. "Yeahhh, I'm ganna be tUFF!" Leashed or not, the kid proceeds with a puffed chest.

"Uhh, keep the toughness down a level, champ. We all needa keep up here." DK grumbles, though he's partially glad the kid's got time to dry his face off now in the sun and perk up before he has to return the lot. The less explaining he has to do, the better-

As his paws enter the sand, the kids can't help but want to pound around in the loose earth, leaping off and racing around with renewed energy. That plus the sand's pretty hot and they're quick to keep their knuckles from cooking too much. DK pauses at the threshold between wood and sand to regard the dock trail behind them. "Eh...I guess railing wouldn't be that bad of a project. I could probably put up a few one morning before it gets hot." It wasn't like he was a stranger to carpentry either, given the tree house he'd made in his youth, shaky - unstable junk of a shack that it was.

The ice cream kart up ahead was just that - a rather large go kart parked on the sands with a trailer attached. Pictures of vibrant, sea-salt popsicles lined the side. As it slowly came into view, DK watched the onslaught of Konglings line up for a race to the finish line of frozen treats. "You know, I'm not against judging someone entirely based off their favorite ice cream flavor." Of course he isn't.

[afoolandathief]

3, 22 and 29

Hello and thank you for the ask! And sorry for the late reply!

(from this ask game)

3. How many projects did you work on this year?

Uhh, I'm not even entirely sure. First off, every year since 2019 blends into a period of what feels like about four months for me. But while I mainly worked on "Something Wicked" and "Those Horrid, Horrid Things," I ventured into outlining or a chapter or two of an early draft into at least two or three other projects.

22. If your original fiction were an AO3 fic, what would the tags be?

👀

"g/t" "size difference" (Yonder) "blood" "pining" "misunderstandings" "kinks" "implied monsterfucking" (Something Wicked) "hurt/comfort" "gender fuckery" "kissing" "implied kink" "polyamory" (Those Horrid, Horrid Things)

I'm sorry I just had to go with the most unhinged interpretations of my works for this

29. Do you want to try writing any new genres next year?

Not a genre difference, but I keep getting the urge to write an idea I've had for years delving into Greek mythology (involving a self-loathing Hephaestus and an even more self-loathing, alcoholic, bulimic Dionysus who blackmails Heph into helping him get into the underworld to raise a long-lost loved one from the dead and they definitely do not hookup or anything).

[princessmo]

augh i'm so fucking tired 😭 just got home from work and jfc. we had a frozen food delivery that nobody knew would happen so i had to scan all 66 cases w the little scanner gun thing myself and then i had to load half of them onto a uboat, put them in the freezer, load the other half on, and put those in the freezer. all on my own bc there was one other worker in the store and she was running the register. and the mid-50s man truck driver just dropped off the shit, filled out the paperwork, called me "honey" in a demeaning way about 100 times, and left. took me like three and a half hours to get through that

rest of the afternoon went well until closing; the coworker i was working with is CONSTANTLY talking on the fucking phone. so ofc during the last few minutes she was chatting away and i'm like "uhh should we make closing announcements" and she ignores me. she doesn't make an announcement until 9, when we actually fuckin close. and 5 people come up to the register.

there are these two awful, absolutely annoying and completely oblivious women. i'm not sure if they were shopping together or not. the first one is at the front of the line and the second is at the end of the line. the first woman puts her basket on the belt and BEGINS SORTING the shit into what she does and doesn't want, taking up everyone's fucking time. she starts talking with me, saying it's her first time at DT, blah blah. i ring up all her shit and it's like $40 (at the DOLLAR store), she pays with card and then asks me to break a $50 for her, which i do, but i'm fucking annoyed that i did bc i don't work at a fuckin bank! this isn't the "change for a $50" store!

in between these chicks i ring up a couple who buys like 10 fuckin glasses i have to wrap up in our shitty flimsy bags. whatever. they wanna do an exchange and don't have the receipt. we're not supposed to do that but it's like 9:05 by that point and i just wanna go home so i let it slide. not too bad but just adding insult to injury. but a really mild insult, like "jerk" or something.

but this second lady. OH, this second lady. she's wearing a pair of the reading glasses we sell with the tag still on it and everything; she tells me it's bc she can't see well, which okay, fair, but like...i wanna know how she got there, i sure hope she didn't fuckin drive! anyway, she does the same thing as the first lady, begins sorting her shit out, whatever. as i'm ringing her shit up, she's going back through the store and continuing to get MORE SHIT! more stupid cheap shit for my underpaid ass to ring up! and it's 15 fucking minutes after we close! "we're closing, bring your items to the register and check out" doesn't mean "keep fucking shopping, take your sweet fucking time!" at the end her total is about $60 (at, and i cannot stress this enough, THE DOLLAR STORE). the lights literally dim to half-power while i'm ringing up her shit because that's how goddamn long she took. it went completely dark while my coworker was counting out the bank deposit.

whatever. i'm gonna go get high as balls

[s1uttykitty]

100, 80 and 78🖤

Hellooo 🖤

100. Put your hand into your underwear right now and type a reply to this with your other hand. Say whatever you want, so long as you’re touching yourself as you type.


I'm Pooh Bear rn, no underwear. But I can touch myself and type anyway! Aided by swipe function lol. Uhh not sure what to say, other than I'm really glad I've been welcomed into this small corner of the internet <3

80. Do you have any recurring fantasies you keep coming back to? Do you think they’ll ever happen?

Oh gosh yeah. A big one is being spit-roasted between my pup and its partner that it lives with.. and also being shared between their other mutual partner (so the three of them with me).. and also with my princess joined in. So pretty much used by multiple people I love all at once.

Another I've had lately is of being pulled across a loving dom's lap and spanked. Forced to say nice things about myself and rewarded by fingers in my cunt.

No idea on the reality of those right now tbh.

78. Which mutual would you most like to fuck right now? Do they know? Tag them if you dare!

Oh first in line is my pup @anarchopuppyism, I am ferally desperate for it. A handful of others undoubtedly but fucking hell my pup has me so needy 24/7

[snowmuttgetsweird]

5/2/23, late morning

Been a minute.

I've mostly just been too occupied to really post here- not all bad stuff, some good stuff. Between work and play, I've been too tired to type most evenings, so I'm just taking a little time out of my morning while I sip some coffee to journal a bit.

I've been working really hard to try to catch up on commission stuff. A couple months ago I had like, a two-week long burnout where I BARELY worked at all- and if I did it was like, the absolute bare minimum, at a snail's pace. Since then I've been paying for it- I end up working on the PREVIOUS month's commissions during the time I need to be taking NEW work for the NEXT month's rent, plus Patreon Mini Commissions (I still need to do those for April in fact), and it kinda just keeps snowballing. I AM further along with commissions this time around than last month though, so I AM starting to actually catch up with my workload. It helps that my clients have been very patient with me, I'm so thankful for that. I'm glad they can be so confident that I WILL get their art done given the time to do so, and that they're willing to wait. I guess that's just the fruits of my hard work to ensure that's the truth of things. I ALWAYS finish the piece. I had one slip on that like two years ago and I made a personal vow never to let it happen again. Trello helps with that.

Besides work, I'm trying to still make time for play.

I DID make enough to buy the Digimon cards I wanted- about $45 bucks worth, so that's really cool. Digimon is nice, specifically because it's one of the cheaper TCGs I can play. I've mostly abandoned Yugioh because of the price tag. Initially I started playing Gallantmon because of the structure deck when I was first getting into the game, and since then I've stuck with it and haven't bothered to build anything else. Being a lower-tier/rogue deck, it's on the cheaper side even by Digimon standards as long as I don't invest in alternate art cards. In addition to that, being a popular, main character digimon, Gallantmon will likely, consistently, receive more support throughout the game's lifespan, so I should consistently have opportunities to expand and evolve the deck as long as the game goes on. Even if it's mid now, statistically, it'll likely get enough support to become genuinely strong later. Plus, Guilmon is just an absolute cutie.

That aside, a good friend of mine gave me the money to just straight up buy Resident Evil 4 Remake. He was enjoying it so much, knew I wanted it, and knew I wouldn't be able to afford it myself for quite some time, that he basically just bought it for me, so I've been playing that most evenings after work. It's /really/ good, and really I couldn't imagine a better game to invest in. RE4 has always had really good replay value, and the same can be said for REm4ke. I plan to play the game over and over for a while.

I've also been trying to learn chess on the side. I've always been interested in chess and enjoyed playing, but I'm quite bad and never really put time or effort into studying openings or anything. At this point in my life, with so much going on, I'm not sure I have the time to dedicate to it AND my other hobbies.

My roommate's birthday is coming up. I'd love to buy them something, but that might be out of the question, so I'm thinking of doing some art, getting it printed and framed, and gifting them that. I've got an idea for a three-piece suite I'd like to do maybe that could display well on a wall or atop a shelf- SFW, of course.

Uhh I think that's it for now, I'm not sure what else to say. I don't really have anything else going on, I'm just working and playing games. That never really changes lol.

TTYL.

[bookpersonmaryj]

Fanfic Writer Interview

Thank you @you-have-to-use-your-imagination for tagging me!

I have to tag people now, but since I only have very few followers (for a reason, that reason is I get overwhelmed easily and need a bit of distance) I hope no one gets mad if I skip that part...

How many works do you have on ao3?

40 works on ao3, one other on a German fanfic site but it's uhh on a several-year hiatus so... not important!

What's your total ao3 word count?

it's 79.578 words holy shit... that's almost 80.000??? how???

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I've posted works for four fandoms, three on ao3. Doctor Who (27 fics), The Umbrella Academy (2 fics) and Rusty Quill Gaming Podcast (10 fics).

I've technically got 2 Harry Potter fics, written before JK turned out to be a terf, but I removed them for the moment because I don't want to support her in any way until she gets over her bigotry, and if she never does that then I'll just leave them unpublished forever.

The other one not on ao3 is a Once Upon A Time fanfic that's really just a self-indulgent self-insert for my best friends and myself.

I've also written for far more fandoms, just most of those are only WIPs on my laptop that I'm not sure I'll ever finish and/or post.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Cheating (236 kudos, The Umbrella Academy fic)

Stormcage Wives (232 kudos, Doctor Who fic)

drunk on your love (and a whole lot of ginger) (119 kudos, Doctor Who fic)

tired of the lies (but afraid of what the truth will bring) (107 kudos, Doctor Who fic)

you're burning up and I'm burning out (or is it the other way around?) (101 kudos, Doctor Who fic)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes, always. People tell me they like my writing, of course I'm gonna thank them for it! And if I get to ramble on about my fic for a bit, even better!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Oof, let me think...

I'm torn between three, I think.

Wait for me - TUA fic that is really just angst the whole time and especially the ending

Achilles Come Down - DW fic that I would call angsty, but it's kinda ambiguous? it's based on the song by Gang of Youth with the same name, and that song is definitely angsty, so it stands to reason the fic is also at least a bit angsty

I had a dream, which was not all a dream - DW fic that's also very angsty throughout and the last thoughts aren't very cheery, I'd say it's pretty darn angsty.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest one you've written?

Yes, but only unpublished unfinished stuff so far.

The craziest of them would probably be the 'Hunger Games but fandoms for districts' one which I only started because of a tumblr post I shared with my friends and we hyped each other up so much that I wrote three chapters in a haze of euphoria before reality kicked me in the teeth and I stopped.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, and I really hope I won't receive any in the future...

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Every time I try it either turns into cuddles or the screen fades to black without my doing. I just can't write smut for my life.

(I might be greyace actually??? that might be a contributing factor...)

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know, and again, I really hope it never happens.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Does it count if I started translating my own fanfic?

If not, no, but I wouldn't be opposed to it if someone were to ask!

What's your all time favorite ship?

Thoschei, I'd say.

Maaybe Zoscar, but tbh I've shipped Thoschei the longest so I gotta go with that one.

No, wait, I've been shipping SwanQueen far longer than Thoschei!

So either one of those...

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Oof, that's a hard question... I've got so many WIPs I wanna finish but don't think I ever will.

There's a soulmate AU I've started, Doctor Who, Thoschei, rather angsty, and I've written myself into a corner and can't get out of it again.

I also started something that I call Override Paradox, which is really what it sounds like, in that it's 13 trying to create a paradox big enough to override the memory block in the matrix. I really wanna finish it, but it's really hard to write paradox fics, tbh...

Err, I've got several timetravel fix-it stories for various fandoms that I'd really like to finish, but not any one specifically, really.

I also really want to finish that Once Upon A Time fic, mostly just so I can have it finished, and because I did start it for my best friends and I'd really like to give them a nice thing, basically.

I also recently got back into The Umbrella Academy and really wanna finish a couple of those stories, just because they're rattling around in my brain and I would love to make something out of the ideas.

What are your writing strengths?

I'm... pretty good at angst? And fluff? Does that count as strength?

I'm good at imagining what a character is thinking, that's probably a neat thing. There are a lot of fics where I get fully immersed in the inner monologue of someone, and I'd say I'm pretty good at it?

I've also been told I'm good at plot twists, so. those?

(gosh I'm so bad at complimenting myself... definitely need to work on that.)

(also what the hell is a writing strength??? I don't really know what this means...)

What are your writing weaknesses?

I ramble a lot. Describe too much.

I also cannot for the life of me just write a story on the fly without having at least five paragraphs of backstory... It's really annoying, honestly.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

If it makes sense story-wise and if it's done well, then I'm all for it!

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Once Upon A Time. I started it like, five years ago? It feels like an eternity tbh... hang on...

2017??? holy shit that's. yeah, that's six years... wow.

What's your favorite fic that you've written?

Gosh.

I'm gonna choose from the ones I've finished, because I will not be able to choose from the unfinished no matter how hard I'll try.

'Achilles Come Down' is really one of my favorites. I had a lot of fun writing it.

'confessions uttered in the (un)safety of your embrace' was incredibly nice to write. The level of double and triple thinking? Brilliant. The fact that I didn't even realize I was doing it in a triple way until it was pointed out to me (thank you @rearranging-deck-chairs)?! Effervescent.

So yeah.

That's it. You can stop reading now. Also, thank you ^_^

Bye!

[agooberscast]

I posted 1,948 times in 2022

That's 42 more posts than 2021!

754 posts created (39%)

1,194 posts reblogged (61%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@agooberscast

@pudgy-planets

@itsjustagoober

@agoobersretreat

@somechubbynerd

I tagged 1,743 of my posts in 2022

Only 11% of my posts had no tags

#ask call - 711 posts

#ask prompt - 553 posts

#silliness - 471 posts

#please specify muse - 462 posts

#someheartlesslady - 377 posts

#the mun speaks - 347 posts

#pretty please? - 319 posts

#nibblesnarf - 292 posts

#somechubbynerd - 286 posts

#ask thread - 268 posts

Longest Tag: 57 characters

#just send them some fun and silly and wholesome-ish stuff

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

((So, I'm sure you're wondering 'Yo, where has Goober been for about a week?'. If not, that's also fine and I'm here to tell you. This past week, as well as the week before, has been some of the busiest times I've had in awhile. It completely caught me off-guard and the change in temperature from moderate/cool to hot/hotter is not helping.

I haven't slept well since the temp change about two-to-three weeks ago and it's catching up to me badly. I think the recovery time for this is also skewed because of it. So, I think I have to make a decision I didn't want to.

I'm going to be going on a small hiatus again. For the moment, I hope it's only until the end of the month. I'll be lurking on my personal blog and my self-insert blog @agoobersretreat , but I will be mostly silent otherwise.

I love you all very much and I appreciate your patience with me in that I need time to recover and you all have proven, time and time again, you're willing to afford me that.

Until next month or so, ciao~!))

23 notes - Posted June 4, 2022

#4

Suddenly, Mallow is hugged by Anne!

"Oh, thank GOD you're back to normal, girl..."

"Oop? Oh, uhh, thank you?" Mallow giggles and squeals, happily hugging Anne back. A nice and cozy soft lady? Why wouldn't she?

"Mmmm, I dunno what you mean or what happened, but I'm glad I'm okay then~!" Awww, those big-little eyes.

24 notes - Posted April 6, 2022

#3

((Gonna be busy for the rest of today and tomorrow, so my plan is to finally get to those asks and replies this weekend while I'm staying inside and avoiding the heat that's suddenly upon us!

Until that day, I will be reblogging this each day or so and also gonna ask for an ask call on @agoobersretreat , as I can usually spit those out pretty fast and also I'm always in the mood for playing myself.

Anywho, you guys have a great rest of the week and I'll see ya then~! Keep an eye out for activity all over soon enough~!))

25 notes - Posted May 10, 2022

#2

Alrighty, I answered a lot of asks today on all my blogs.

Against my better judgement, send me some more to whittle down over the week. I'd appreciate keeping my mind busy, ya know?

Love y'all~!

32 notes - Posted March 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

someheartlesslady

"Depends. Have youuuuu been behaving?"

“Yiiiiiiiiiiisss~! I have been cuz it is...not like me to misbehave~?” Lying through her teeth, of course.

61 notes - Posted January 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[heresathreebee]

KINKTOBER DAY 11 Sleepy Sex

Dewey Finn X Reader smut

Tag(s): 18+ | 1.1k words | swearing, unprotected sex, cockwarming, car sex

AN: surprise we're divulging a little bit I told you I make no promises to stick to theme FULLY NOT EDITED

Your road trip with Dewey's little reunion band was going well. There was still fighting and a bit of bad blood, but Dewey had moved on, he was more mature now… and he felt that way because he had successfully punched Theo in the face. 

After their latest dive bar gig and a round of drinks, Dewey gets to do his favorite thing: sleeping next to you. 

While everyone else squeezed into a couple of motel rooms, you and Dewey piled into the back of his van. You're a bit frugal (a penny pincher, he once called you and got his ear pinched) so you preferred to shell out cash for a better (read: cleaner) mattress in the van than a whole room. 

Besides, at least you get privacy out here. 

You are exhausted from doing most of the driving to make sure the band can make a 'pitstop' to play at Nashville. 

"I told you before: it's not a pitstop if I have to drive 5 hours out of the way to do one show," you grumbled sleepily as you change from your day shirt into something cooler for sleeping. "It was supposed to be Knoxville then Chattanooga– Nashville was out of the equation." 

"You say that but we still made it amd rocked the socks off of all those fans in three cities," Dewey replies. "You know if you don't want to drive anymore, I can take over." 

"No!" 

You know if anyone else had heard him they would agree. It's not that he's a bad driver, he's… he gets distracted and bored very fast. Long distance drives with Dewey are a nightmare as it is with him as a passenger. 

"Remember you were driving when you totalled Ned's corolla." 

"That wasn't my fault!" Oh, you roll your eyes, it never is– "that llama came out of nowhere!" 

"It was a statue of a horse and it was in the roundabout island. You know the thing you drive around that has signs warning you about it?" 

Dewey blew a raspberry. "Whatever. Scooch that's my side." 

You can't get too comfortable until you make Dewey take his jacket off. He does not turn on the radio and play rock tunes for your sake. Then you curl into his side and think of ways to bribe Patty into letting you use her body wash again because Dewey smells heavenly tonight. 

Despite your bone deep exhaustion, sleep does not come easy to you. Your arms jerk, there's some kind of spasm in your calves from standing and walking and running all day, and Dewey's almost too warm. 

You shuck your pants off and try sleeping away from him. Cuddle monster that he is, Dewey rolls easily and cradles you as the big spoon. It's fine– your main problem is energy. Then he nuzzles your neck and whispers. 

"Hey, you still awake?" 

"Unfortunately…" 

Dewey's hand caresses your hip and he buries his nose into your hair. He peppers kisses from the back of your head to that sweet spot on your neck, rocking his hips languidly. 

"Do you wanna maybe have sex and see if that helps?" 

You know he's half joking but maybe he's on to something. "Yeah, go ahead." 

Dewey laughs. "What? Just… flip you over and fuck you?" 

"If you like." 

"Uhh…" Dewey sits up and tries to get a good look at your face. "Are you… gonna participate? If you're too tired we don't have to–" 

You growl. "I can't really open my eyes because they burn when I do, but my body won't let me sleep. You know what I like just… do that and we can both go to sleep." 

"Ok…" Dewey's not fully on board with it– at least drunk sex between you is mutual but this feels… maybe too close to the line of consent. "Well if… if you don't like what I'm doing you tell me to stop, ok?" 

You hum in agreement and help him slip his hand into your underwear. Dewey does know what he’s doing you know because he starts rubbing your bud in tight circles and kissing your neck again. 

You can feel his hard member as he presses his hips into your backside again. He slips his hands beneath the fabric of your underwear, gathering some of your slick and rubbing circles on the clit without a barrier. You hum in encouragement and feel the excitement in him grow as he nips the shell of your ear. 

"Mm, you like that, baby?" 

You buck into his hand and he pulls away for a moment to slip his hand into your underwear from behind, dipping two thick fingers into your channel and groaning. 

"Fuck, you're fucking tight, babe." He fucks you with them easily thanks to the copious wetness inside you, all the while sucking hickeys into your neck (hickeys you would be mad about in the morning but enjoyed for now). “Wanna know how you feel on my cock.” 

You spread your legs a little bit, feeling his fingers sink deeper to the last knuckle and whimpering. “More… Dewey…” 

Dewey bit your neck and pulled his boxers down to his ankles. He pushed your underwear to the side and pushed his hard member between your folds stopping almost immediately when you tighten unexpectedly. “Sorry, sorry–” 

“You’re not hurting me, go deeper.” 

He shifts back and pushes forward again, inch by inch until he bottom out and sighs. You are the only other thing that makes him feel as ethereal as a 20 minute guitar solo. Just hit like a glove, and warm and comfortable and welcoming. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer, savoring the moment of intimacy before it slips away. 

“Move... move,” you slur. 

He feels so good but the elusive sleep you’ve been craving all night is fighting back. If he stops now, sleep will be even harder to come by, you're sure of it. The tingling feeling of the static is starting to overpower you when you realize– is he snoring?? 

Dewey didn’t expect to fall asleep. It kind of hit him like a train when he put his head to the back of yours and suddenly he was out like a light. He woke up maybe two hours later at dawn, his dick is just a semi but it’s still buried in your heat. His ears turn red and he’s embarrassed but why didn’t you push him out if he… 

He lifts his head and leans over your shoulder to find you drooling on your pillow. Dewey smiles to himself and checks the time– 4:50 AM. You can sleep a little longer, you deserve it. He’s careful not to jostle you but he lays back down and falls right back to sleep. 

[storyofmychoices]

New Beginnings

[Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley Masterlist] [Keiki Lahela]

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley (F!OC) Other Characters: Keiki Lahela Book: Open Heart: Book 2 Rating: Teen due to brief language use Word Count: <700 Prompts: @choicesaugustchallenge : sword

Synopsis: Bryce, Olivia, and Keiki have finally finished moving in and are ready to celebrate their new apartment. [fluff, humor (hopefully?)]

"Uhh—Bryce, what do you think you're doing?" Olivia's eyes widened as she took a tentative step back. "Be careful with that thing!"

"Yeah...I'm gonna have to agree with Liv on this one." Keiki's brow rose as she surveyed her brother. "No way this ends well."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," He scoffed, claiming offense. "Need I remind you both that I have magic hands? I've got this!"

"Sure, sure. Totally sounds convincing. Don't mind me capturing this epic fail to post in all its glory on the internet." Keiki held her phone in front of her, focusing on her brother. If this was going to end in disaster, she certainly wasn't going to miss it. "Smile for the camera, B!"

"I'm sure we can christen the new apartment without any of us losing an eye or a limb." Olivia held her arms open, encouraging him to come to her.

"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing," he insisted, toying with the weapon in his hands. "I'm highly skilled with a knife."

"But, that's a sword, Bryce."

"What's a sword, if not just a giant scalpel?" He scanned the blade, lining it up with the bottle in his other hand.

"A sword's a sword! ! A scalpel is a scalpel! They're not the same! Not even remotely!"

Bryce shrugged, unmoved. "It's still a blade that requires precision, same as a scalpel."

"It's a sword!" She repeated more forcefully, still trying to process the turn of events. She had only left him alone in the kitchen for a few minutes while she changed from work. "Not even a champagne saber—an actual sword. Where do you even get a sword like that?"

"Not sure saying the word sword repeatedly is changing anything," Keiki said out of the corner of her mouth, her phone still trained on Bryce.

"Ramsey. He said some prince gave it to him for saving his life a while back, but I bet he just bought it at an antique store—like he knows a prince."

"And he just let you borrow it?"

"Blah, blah, blah! So much talking," Keiki grumbled, getting bored with the lack of destruction. "Let's do this thing!"

"That's the spirit!" Bryce lined the tip of the blade up with the neck of the champagne bottle he was holding in his gloved hand. He'd seen this done many times growing up at his parent's fancy dinner parties.

"5....4....3" He practiced moving the blade gently down the neck to the annulus.

"Please be careful." Olivia cringed, afraid to watch, but too curious to turn away.

"...2....1!" With one swift motion, he firmly slid the sword down the seam of the bottle, cleanly cutting the top.

"Woah." Keiki's jaw dropped.

Olivia's face scrunched in disbelief. "You did it?"

"I did it?" Bryce stood still, his face equally shocked until a sharp shattering sound pierced the open kitchen.

"Epic!" Keiki cheered as the bottom of the bottle smashed to the floor; champagne sputtered everywhere.

"Shit." Bryce instinctively jumped back from the broken glass and liquid spilling across the floor.

Olivia clapped her hands over her mouth, partially in shock, partially to suppress her giggles at the sight of his shocked face. "So much for those magic hands."

"Oh, that hurts!" Bryce pouted, feigning heartbreak, which didn't last long as the three of them burst into a round of laughter.

After composing themselves, it didn't take long before the three of them had cleaned up the mess, setting everything back as it was.

Olivia grabbed the bottle of sparkling cider they had bought for Keiki. "I think I better handle this one." She winked at Bryce, making a show of effortlessly opening the screwtop bottle. She poured three glasses, handing each out.

"To new beginnings!" Bryce lifted his glass.

Keiki hesitantly held hers up, her gaze shifting from her brother to Olivia. "To family."

Her heart swelled, filling her chest with warmth. Olivia tried to hide her growing smile as she raised her glass, "to our home."

"Our home," Bryce nodded in agreement. "Cheers!"

They clinked their glasses together, each toasting to their new home and the love that would blossom there. The night lingered on until their cheeks hurt from grinning and laughing, the sound of their joy filling their new home.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this. I headcanon that Bryce and Olivia move in together during the course of book two.

Tags in a reblog, please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

[echo-three-one]

Chapter 33

THE ROAD SO FAR

The Broken Ship

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

MacTavish Residence, Glasgow Scotland

The moment they arrived at home and broke the news about Alexandra, the whole morale of the group fell and the rest of the night was quiet. Roach overheard from Maxine that Soap's parents visited and he was all excited to listen to her story, but maybe after he consoled his pal, Ghost.

Ever since the mission ended, Simon was quiet, maskless and totally vulnerable. He felt like this before, back in Verdansk where he was like an emotionless killing machine. And Gary was afraid that he'd go back to this phase, a phase where all he would ever care about is that this war should end.

Gary knew how to talk him out of these kinds of situations, but this time, he preferred not to. He knew that after a massive loss and heartbreak, Simon preferred the silence. So he decided to let him collect his thoughts alone in his room.

"Is he going to be okay?" Maxine asked, wrapping an arm on his, as they walked the silent corridors of the second floor.

"I'm not sure. But I hope so…" Gary turned to her and frowned. Maxine's other hand grazed on his arm.

"What about you? Are you okay?" She tilted her head and looked at him in the eyes. Gary didn't want to lie, but he also didn't want her to worry. But right now, he wanted to express what he felt.

"Well… I almost died today. I'm glad Alex was behind us the whole time." he exhaled and Maxine's grip on his arm tightened making Gary turn to her.

Tears fell from her eyes as they stopped walking and she quickly embraced him. Gary quickly wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back.

"Don't you dare die on me, Gary Sanderson…" She sniffled and looked up at him.

"Please!" She added, her mouth trembled as she let her tears flow and sobbed on his chest.

"I can't …" Gary said.

"I can't promise anything like that, Maxine… But I'll be careful next time." He smiled as their eyes met.

"Now wipe off those tears and let's talk about something else, okay?" Gary ran a finger through her cheek, wiping the tears off.

"Sleep beside me tonight." She whispered.

Gary felt like he was the luckiest man alive. He couldn't imagine how Maxine was now sleeping on his bare chest, his arms wrapped around her soft skin. He joined with the slow rise and fall of her breathing and gently brushed her hair.

After planting a quick kiss on her forehead, he heard the sound of glass being tapped by the window. He dismissed it as a bird or the wind but it continued on until he finally got up, carefully putting Maxine's head on a pillow.

Ghost was on the ground, throwing pebbles by the window, Gary quickly pushed the window open and peeked his head. The cold chill of the midnight air brushed against his body.

"Simon?" he asked, whispering loud enough so he could hear him.

"I need your help." He asked. He was already ready to go, backpack and all. But it looked like Ghost needed a hand.

"What kind?" Gary asked, looking at Maxine who was sound asleep.

"I need you to come with me back to the ship. I'll explain the details later." he invited.

"What about the rest?" Gary asked, he was almost hesitant to go, but at times like this, Ghost wasn't the kind of person to ask for help. He needed him.

"We'll just be gone for a while." he assured and Gary signaled him to wait, he grabbed a change of clothes, perfect for the weather and kissed Maxine goodbye.

"I'll be out for a short while." he whispered and closed the door.

Through the hallways, Gary tiptoed quietly. Everyone else was asleep as evidenced by the loud snoring of a nearby open door.

After crossing the longest hallway quietly, Gary pushed the door open and met up with Ghost.

"Where are we going?" Gary asked. Ghost gave him a backpack of his own and he immediately wore it.

"Yeah, Gary. Where are you going?" A familiar voice said by the door. It was Maxine. Gary gulped in pressure and looked at Ghost, who just looked down as a gesture of "you talk your way out of this one pal"

Gary cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry I didn't wake you up. You looked peacefully asleep." He muttered.

"We're uhh…" Roach scratched his head and looked at Ghost.

"We're going to look for Alexandra and give her a proper burial." Ghost muttered and everyone fell silent. Roach looked at Ghost then back to Maxine as she sharply inhaled.

"I'll come with. I want to be there with your friend too, Roach." She said, nodding to Ghost. Come to think of it, the two never fully acquainted to each other. Maybe one of the factors Ghost didn't bother trying was that because she's Francine's sister.

"Thanks uh… Maxine.." Ghost said and looked down.

"Let me change my clothes first then we'll go." She said as she stepped back and went on to do her thing.

Ghost looked at Roach.

"She looks pretty cool." Ghost said and Gary turned to him.

"Are you okay with her tagging along?" Gary asked, with all the hand gestures.

"Well, I'm just planning to dive back to the ship while you wait." He said, the tone in his voice was nonchalant.

"How sure are you that we're going to find her?" Gary asked. Ghost immediately nudged him and smiled.

"And here I thought you were the optimistic one…" he said nodding to Maxine as she stepped out of the MacTavish estate wearing casual clothing.

A low whistle escaped Gary's lips as he eyed the beautiful lady standing in front of her.

"I'm ready to go!" She said as the three walked to the jeep rental and made their way back to the sunken site.

With Ghost driving, Gary and Maxine placed themselves at the back and tried to catch up with sleep, Maxine leaning on Gary's shoulders.

It was a smooth ride and it was quite lengthy. Gary wondered why they even went to Scotland if he had plans like this in the first place.

"So what made you decide about planning this op?" Gary asked.

"I… I wanted to give her a proper goodbye." He mutteres as he parked by the pier. Roach nudged Maxine awake and they carried their bags to the boat they rented.

"Hey, Isn't this…" Gary exclaimed.

"Yeah. S.S. Crossbones. The same ship we used just yesterday." He said, spinning his keys as they entered the boat.

After settling on the boat, Ghost got on his diving gear and they sailed to the sink site, filled with determination.

Gary sat beside Maxine who was enjoying the view, her wind blew as the boat sailed, drops of water splashed on her face.

"How are you holding up?" Gary asked as he held her hand.

"It's amazing to actually see the ocean again." Her smile was basked with the sunlight.

"Yeah. With all these things going on we were actually forced to go in hiding. It's sad." Gary consoled and Maxine grinned.

"It's okay. It's just fate pulling it's strings…"

"You believe that?" Gary asked.

"You know… destiny and the like.." he added.

Maxine curled her lips and thought for a bit.

"Yeah, I guess. I mean we control our lives but the things around us are you know… slightly orchestrated?" she replied with that same curious look on her face. The face Gary loved to stare at all the time.

"Yeah. I agree." he smiled as they looked forward to the crash site. The red hull of the cruise ship still peeked at the surface, despite the ocean which was supposed to be deep.

"The ship landed on a shallow portion of the ocean. So I guess we could stay afloat here and look for her." He said wearing his goggles and mouthpiece.

"Okay. We'll stay on lookout. Stay frosty and take care!" Gary gave an ok gesture as Ghost sat on one of the edges of the boat, readying himself to dive to the ship.

"I hope you find her, Simon." Maxine said and Ghost nodded as he plopped himself to the deep blue, the two trailed their eyes on his silhouette slowly descended and faded from sight.

"I sure hope he finds her." Maxine said, wrapping an arm on Gary.

"Yeah. I sure hope he does." Gary said as he locked his arms on hers and leaned on her.

Gary checked his watch and looked at the ocean surface. Approximately thirty minutes left and he'll be running on reserve.

"You think he found her?" Gary asked and leaned on the edge, his hands covered his face acting like a visor.

"I hope so." Maxine said from behind him, unpacking the food she gathered from the pantry. Gary turned back and looked at Maxine who was already halfway to making a sandwich.

"You brought food?!" Gary asked in amusement and she nodded, making the lad move next to her and help her out.

"I figured I could be of help in your little rogue mission." She smirked and Gary gave her a soft peck on the cheek.

"I haven't thought this far ahead. You're the best!"

Another fifteen minutes had passed and the couple already finished their snack, Ghost slowly emerged from the salty sea, his hands brought nothing but a piece of fabric.

Gary and Maxine excitedly stood up and checked if he found her, but frowned as soon as they saw him empty handed. Both of them were too sad to ask how the diving went.

"I got nothing…" He frowned. Gary tried to be optimistic.

"What if she made it out. But on a different way and she's out there?" he theorized, Maxine and Ghost actually looked at him oddly.

At first he thought his idea was absurd but as soon as Ghost looked to him, it kind of made sense.

"There were no bodies on the ship. It's possible everyone else floated to shore."

"Or got extracted somehow." Maxine added, giving Ghost an ounce of will to carry on.

"What's in that piece of fabric?" Gary asked as Ghost looked at it and read it's contents.

SHADOW COMPANY

SITE HOTEL BRAVO, AFGHANISTAN

"There are coordinates here. This may be our next step to finding Shepherd." Ghost added.

"So we're heading home?" Gary asked.

"Yes. I guess we're headed to Afghanistan." He smiled, Gary first thought he was excited. But a deeper look in his eyes said that he's out for revenge.

Next Chapter : High and Dry

Notification Squad my Beloved

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