#like i am incredibly easy to please so just cos i like something does not mean its some perfect product

[eldritchmochi]

listen i have a LOT of really pretty smut books but i think the one i got in the mail this week takes the cake

[the chromatic fantasy by H.A.]

beautiful spot foil on the front cover plus guilded pages??? hell yes. hes a weighty boy for his size and *feels* incredibly luxurious in ways book nerds are sure to appreciate plus the art is absolutely gorgeous

very soft, sketchy style evocative of like 60s and 70s animation. every bit ive peeped at so far has been gorgeous but not super tightly cleaned like a lot of modern comics, so it feels really organic and raw, even at a glance. vvv refreshing

i preordered on a whim back in like, march when the announcement from @silversprocket crossed my feed and i have Zero regerts. i cannot wait to dive in and actually read it

[baileys-writing-desk]

The Afternoon Sun

Four was gravely injured in a monster attack, and it took everything Hyrule had to save him. Two days on, the smithy finally learns of the strange place he’s ended up in: Faron’s basin.

(This is concurrent with The Morning Sun, but it can be read on its own)

AO3

In Four’s brief moments of wakefulness, a strange blue creature towers over him…and there’s water all around…he’s in water. Why?

“Don’t worry, Link. You’re safe…”

He has no choice anyway, the smithy remembers as he floats in and out. He can’t leave…he doesn’t know what’s going on. Briefly he is met with the blurry face of the veteran standing in front of him, but even that doesn’t last long as his eyes slowly slip closed again.

“Four…”

“No- don’t fall asleep…yet…”

The next time he stirs, his body is still overcome with weakness, but he has gained just enough awareness to truly think, of what in Hylia’s name could have happened for him to end up here. He whines as his mind draws a blank.

Then a voice sounds from above.

“Ah! Back again, little Link. You with me, boy?”

Four slowly peels his eyes open. The familiar-looking giant blue creature from earlier- or at least a blurry distortion of it- peers down at him from above. He’s still partially submerged in water, with dark walls curving up over him in a circular shape.

Where…exactly am I?

What is that thing??

He grunts, trying and failing to blink the blurriness out of his vision. His body is still incredibly drained…although he must have been asleep for quite a while. The water drips and ripples slightly around him, as the creature extends her arm forward and dips what looks to be two fingers in. Testing the waters, he presumes. But why? Why is he in water?

Must not be regular water.

“Still warm enough…” it mutters, raising its arm back up. “Boy, please speak if you can hear me, will you? It does no good talking to myself.”

…But what kind of water is this?

Four hesitates. The creature wants him to speak; he must not leave it waiting.

“Wh- who are you…?” he croaks, voice incredibly dry. He tries to clear his throat but simply coughs instead. Damn…All this water around yet his mouth still feels like a desert.

“Ah, I suppose I have yet to introduce myself. Now that you seem coherent enough, I shall.” The creature’s blurry face begins to focus a little, showing dark eyes and purplish lips against the pale blue. Two long string-like antennae wave around the sides of her head. “I am Lady Faron, the Water Dragon and warden of the woods. You, young boy, are in my hall within the lake. Now don’t worry, you’re safe here with me.”

Faron…He’s heard that name before. But where…?

The smithy frowns, raising a hand out of the water to touch his forehead. “…And why am I-“

“In my basin, you ask?” Faron chuckles. “That one’s easy. It’s to heal you. In case you don’t remember, you were gravely injured.”

…Oh.

A faint memory drifts in, of his inability to parry a monster’s sharp blade. I was stabbed.

“I…I do.” Four groans, eyebrow furrowing as he starts to make out more of Faron’s features. “You…saved me?”

“Now, boy, don’t give me all the credit here. Another of your companions used all his magic to close your wounds. That is what saved you. But you were still far too weak….” She pauses. “The water you are lying in is my sacred water, which acts as a healing bath.”

Another of your companions…

Hyrule. It had to be Hyrule.

He drops his hand back into the water, noticing the tingling effects of the dragon’s magical substance.

“So tell me, little Link…how do you feel?”

“I’m…” The questions swim through his head. Where’s Rulie? Why does Faron sound so familiar? “…I’ve been better, just so tired…”

Is Rulie okay?

“Are you in any pain?”

Slowly and gently, he shakes his head, being mindful of the dull ache. “Where’s…Hyrule?”

“Oh, him? He’s resting with the Thunder Dragon in his domain. Don’t worry, he’s in very good hands. Lanayru’s grown quite attached to that boy.”

…Lanayru?

This must be Sky’s era, he realizes.

And something comes to mind about three guardian dragons…Lanayru, Eldin?…and Faron. Of course. Water Dragon. He blames his muddled brain for not putting the pieces together earlier.

“Is…anyone else here?” he manages. “…Legend?” Yes. The vet was here, right?

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.” Faron frowns, glancing around the rest of the hall which Four cannot see from the basin. “It’s only you and me. Well…and my Kikwis.”

Your- what??

A small splash comes from his right. Slowly the confused smithy turns his head, as far as he can without dipping his face in the water. Something is there next to him. Something like…a very weird-looking- what?? It stares at him with cute eyes and chuckles, opening its bird-like beak slightly.

“Wh-“ Four startles. “-what the hell is that thing??”

Faron only laughs. “Ah, little Link, I assume it’s your first Kikwi encounter. Now don’t worry, he won’t harm you. If he does, boy, tell me and he’s dinner!”

He coughs from the effort of raising his voice, gazing at the little Kikwi playing in the shallow water. What even are those??

And what was that about dinner?

“No…I won’t eat that…whatever it is.” Four mutters, turning his head back to face Faron.

“Oh, you wouldn’t be eating him!” The Water Dragon grins mischievously. “I will.”

Suddenly it all clicks.

It’s her. Faron. That bitchy dragon who eats things smaller than her. And Four is quite a bit smaller—

Oh no.

This can’t be good.

Too weak to sit up fully, he flails his hands and attempts to scamper back, startling the poor Kikwi. “Nonono…” he squeaks out. “Donteatmedonteatmedonteatmedont-“

“Hey, relax!” Faron’s eyes widen. “Did I say I was going to eat you?”

“No, but…I’ve heard things-“

“Of course you have. My Link must have put that idea into your little head.” She scoffs. “Four, I won’t eat you. Take my word.”

The smithy takes a deep breath, laying back down into the water, exhausted from the energy he had just used. Beside him the Kikwi chortles.

“You promise?” he asks, almost in a whisper.

“On my life.”

Wow. She’s serious about this. He still doesn’t quite know if he can trust her…but it’s not like he has much of a choice. The walls of the basin are far too high for him to climb out, and she most likely wouldn’t let him leave in his condition.

He lets out a long sigh. “…Okay.”

I guess I’ll trust you.

“Well! I’m glad we got that sorted out.” The Water Dragon laughs, then pauses to think. “You’ve been in my hands for over a day, it would be a shame if we didn’t get along, now, wouldn’t it?”

Four slowly nods his head, feeling the sacred water continue to gradually lessen the ache. The Kikwi steps closer to him and taps his cheek.

“And me too! I’ve been by your side, kwee!”

Wait. Did that Kikwi just talk?!

He gasps in surprise, wide eyes staring at the small creature. “You…you can talk too??”

“Ah yes, they can.” Faron answers first. “I suppose that’s a detail I should have mentioned before.”

The Kikwi giggles. “Sorry to startle you, little Link. I’m Machi, kwee!”

Machi. What an interesting name.

“H-hi…Machi. It’s nice to meet you, um…” The smithy hesitates. “You can call me Four.”

“Like the number, I know! How peculiar. Where did that name come from, kwee?”

Oh Hylia…Four groans in displeasure. Now is not the best time to explain the whole story of the Four Sword and how he can split into four people, it's…Too much. Far too exhausting.

“Now Machi, don’t overwhelm him.” Faron’s voice, for once, relieves him. “He’s too weak for explaining, that can come later.”

Thank goodness.

“Oh…my apologies, kwee.” Machi’s eyes droop slightly, and Four briefly reaches out to pat its belly.

“It’s okay,” he mutters. The small Kikwi smiles before stepping back to glance up at Faron. Why do they say ‘kwee’ all the time?, he wonders. These little creatures are quite peculiar.

Four takes a deep breath, resting his eyes and letting his body relax once more. Normally he would be able to deal with all these new discoveries; he would be fascinated at Faron and the Kikwis and their ways of life. He would ask Faron why this basin is clearly made for her, and if she’s ever had to use it. He would leave the hall and take a swim for a while, studying the marine life in this unfamiliar region and telling Hyrule excitedly about his findings.

But he is far from strong enough…nowhere near his full self. That will all have to wait, too.

“Little Link, you still look quite drained.” Faron comments. Yep, sounds about right. “Perhaps I shall leave you some space. The more you rest, the quicker you will be healed, boy.”

He blinks his eyes back open, giving the Water Dragon a slight smile. “...Fair enough.”

“I’m sure Lanayru will come by soon. When you’re better, he can pick you up and take you back to your little friend…Hyrule.”

His heart flutters at her mention of the Traveler. Magic exhaustion, he remembers. Rulie has never been out for more than a couple days…he should be waking up soon, right? I hope he’s okay.

“How- how long will this take?” he mumbles. “...To heal, I mean.”

“I’ll be straight with you, Four, the wounds you sustained were severe. Your friend’s healing saved your life, but I estimate several more days before you can be up and around.”

Well, that’s just great. Looks like he won’t be leaving this basin anytime soon.

At least Faron and Machi are decent company. He’s heard scary stories about Faron and her threats to eat almost anything, but at this point she clearly won’t do it to him. The Kikwis, weird as they are, seem quite nice. And he can still hope for visits, from one of his brothers or Lanayru.

“...Okay,” he answers, nodding slowly. He can hear Machi playing in the water, still by his side, while Faron grins.

“You’re a strong hero, little Link,” she assures him. “I have faith in you. Now…I’ll be right back, boy. Please let yourself rest, and don’t go anywhere.”

Four chuckles at her comment. “I won’t, thanks.”

Unless someone comes to take him from the basin, he is most definitely not going anywhere.

He waits for her to disappear out of sight, listening to the sound of her diving underwater, before letting out a long sigh. The lingering tiredness is beginning to win over once again…

You’re safe now. You’re okay.

As he slowly drifts off, he pictures the day when he can finally reunite with Hyrule and the others.

[polishmenace]

hi. afterthought - I'm sorry this is so long

that caution on your ed post? Take the same disclaimer here. Please only read this if you are able to handle it safely.

I can't promise I won't overshare, I'm tired as fuck and I have never talked to people about this. Idk if this will help

Obviously I don't know how you got your ed. I doubt we have all the same reasons, but this isn't for that. but as someone living with a mother who's bipolar and schizophrenia from both sides, that isnt easy to live with. Seeing your family purge isn't something to forget easily. Seeing how psychological conditions wear people down isn't easy, so to end up with one too? The feeling is indescribable.

So, from a guy one skipped meal & a fall down his concrete stairs away from his death, I wanted to share your pain. there wasn't a word in your post that I didn't feel without every fiber of my being. And it fucking hurts. I'm so so sorry you feel this too.

Recovery is never going to look a certain way, and relapsing into the mindset does not mean you're not getting better. It isn't so linear, Michaeł, please don't compare your journey to anyone else's. Don't compare it to how you think it should go, because the only wrong answer here is giving up.

You can feel sick of it all, and pissed, and maybe at times like you don't care anymore, and everything that suffering makes you feel - but please don't give up on yourself.

I wish I could give you more. I wish I could tell advise how to convince yourself to eat, but I haven't managed in days. I don't think I know how either. Hell I smoke to get hungry and even that has stopped working.

Please keep reaching out. Talk to people, just anyone, if you haven't yet, you'll find someone who listens. Hell, I'd listen in a heartbeat. You deserve to be heard, Michaeł. You deserve to be seen, your progress and your regress. You are so much more than your pain, even when it gets into that all consuming feeling. I hope you've known that for a long time.

I believe so much in you Michaeł. I love you so incredibly even though you're an odd little polish man in my phone. And you deserve that from what I've seen.

I'm sorry if this is ranty, I wanted to send it when I saw the post yesterday but my phone was dead without charger :( I don't want to fuck up your morning. I truly hope you have a good one, Michaeł, and I believe in you. Not that you'll never relapse, but that you'll keep healing. I believe in your progress Michaeł, no matter how it looks. I hope you can do the same.

You don't need to reply to this ask. It might be a mess so maybe it's better if you don't

You're not alone Michaeł.

Awww I’m cryinggggg (relief tears) You are so sweet. I am so conflicted still but you don’t know how much reassurance helps. Thank you so much <3

and also, I am completely willing co commiserate with you if you’d like to talk

[sortasirius]

“Despair” and Dean and Cas

Well well well, winning is my favorite thing.

As usual, this is going to be as long as hell. And fair warning, it’s extremely emotional.

So here it is, the thing that we have been barrelling towards for years, literally years.

Just want to point out this.  Also, I will NEVER allow someone to speak negatively about this writing group, EVER.

Team Free Dads starting off the episode is so sweet, so scary.  Cas’ calming, Dean’s fear, Sam’s desperation, really just hammering home how much they love Jack, how his pain is pain for them, how losing him is unbearable.

“I can’t stop this.  I’m coming apart.  I don’t want to hurt you.  Don’t let me hurt you.”

Oof.  If you’ve ever question whether Jack is a Winchester, this line should shut that shit down for you.

When I tell you I was PISSED when Billie sent Jack to the Empty to EXPLODE?????  PAIN.

“Yeah the Empty can’t come to earth, not without being summoned.”

Hello Bobo, clue number 1.

The fact that they only had Jack in limbo for like five seconds was great for my heart health, thank u very much Bobo.

Also Dean wielding Death’s scythe?????? KING?????

Man, Sam and Dean’s growth.  The way that they’re able to, idk, actually speak on how they feel without death looming or fear or pain.  It’s just a conversation, just an honest conversation of Dean admitting his mistakes, admitting how he felt.  Admitting that he fucked up, and Sam forgiving him for it.

CHARLIE AND HER GF CHARLIE AND HER GF CHARLIE AND HER GF

Also...hunters and their “dates.”  Two hunters who are happily together, who are happily fighting monsters.  Hm.  Sounds like a Saileen/Destiel parallel to me boys.

You ever wish Cas would look and the mirror and take the great advice he gives others?  Because I do.  He’s always tried to be “useful” for Sam and Dean, for Jack, always tried to make sure that he’s useful enough that they keep him around.  But what he doesn’t understand, what he’s never understood, is that they need him because of who he is, not because of what he contributes.

Remind y’all of anything?

And here we have Clue Number 2

And then, Sam’s realization.  Eileen.

Did I begin full tilt screaming no in my apartment when he said her name?  Who’s to say?

How can a lock screen cause me this much pain????

Okay but: Charlie loses Stevie, Sam loses Eileen.  Clue Number 3.

I feel like I don’t talk enough about how much Sam loves Eileen.  About how obvious it is that they are endgame, about how happy he is when he talks about her.  This just feels like a blow to the stomach, but we’ve barely even started.

Sam immediately shifting into protective leader mode?  He is the love of my life.

Dean’s simple nod, like it’s a given?  Enough to do me in right there.

This is another episode where it’s just so clear that Sam is the leader of the North American hunters.  Everyone knows him, everyone is willing to follow him.  He’s knowledgeable and kind and fair and just and an incredibly capable fighter.  Once again, I don’t believe his work on earth is done.

Can we also please talk about how FRIGHTENING IT WAS for Jack to kill that plant???  I don’t really have much of a comment on it because I was literally just like ?????

With Billie saying that it’s Chuck, the way that people were dusted, very similar to Becky and Amara, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised, especially with Donna getting taken off the board.  It’s like I said last week, I don’t buy that he’s taken himself off the board, he’s too invested in the unraveling of this story to take a step back.  He’s gotta break them before he can defeat them, that’s the only way.

And here we go, into one of the most painful and surreal things I will ever write about.

Dean’s speech.  His guilt, his regret.  The shame of not only trapping himself, but the pain, the horror of trapping Cas.

“I just lead us into another trap.  All because I, I couldn’t hurt Chuck.  Because I was angry and because I just needed something to kill, and because that’s all I know how to do.”

“Dean-”

“It was Chuck all along.  We never should have left Sam and Jack, we should be there with them now.  Everybody’s gonna die, Cas.  Everybody.  I can’t stop it.”

His narrative arc.  Tied up in a bow.

“She’s gonna get through that door.”

“I know.”

“And she’s gonna kill you and then she’s gonna kill me.  I’m sorry.”

Cas smiles.

Cas knows.  He knows what’ll get them out of this, and he knows that he would do anything in this Universe for Dean Winchester. The human man he fell for.

“When Jack was dying, I made a deal to save him.”

“You what?”

“The price was my life.  When I experienced a moment of true happiness, the Empty would be summoned and it would take me forever.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“I always wondered, ever since I took that burden, that curse, I’ve wondered what it could be, what my true happiness could even look like.  I never found an answer, because the one thing I want, it’s something I know I can’t have. 

“But I think I know, I think I know now...happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being.  It’s in just saying it.”

“What are you talking about, man?”

The most selfless thing Cas does in this, and he does a lot of selfless things, is to tell Dean Winchester how impossibly good he is.  To tell him that he is worthy, to tell him that he is adored.

“I know, I know how you see yourself, Dean.  You see yourself the same way our enemies see you.  You’re destructive and you’re angry and you’re broken and you’re daddy’s blunt instrument.  And you think that hate and anger, that’s what drives you, that’s who you are.  It’s not.  And everyone who knows you sees it, and everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love.  You raise your little brother for love, you fought for this whole world for love.  That is who you are.

“You’re the most caring man on earth.  You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know.  You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you outta Hell...knowing you has changed me.

“Because you cared, I cared.  I cared about you, I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack, I cared about the whole world because of you. 

“You changed me, Dean.”

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Dean’s greatest fear. His fear of those loving him leaving him. The terror of being alone.

“Because it is.

The head shake.  Don’t love me.  Don’t love me if it means you’ll leave me, don’t love me, everyone I love leaves me.  Don’t leave me.  Don’t love me.  Don’t leave me.

“Don’t do this, Cas.”

Just like I always thought.  One last look at Dean before the Empty takes him.

“Cas-”

“Goodbye Dean.”

And Dean is left, broken on the floor, unable to answer Sam’s calls, unable to do anything.  It doesn’t matter to him that Chuck has wiped everyone out, it doesn’t matter to him that Sam and Jack might need him.  It doesn’t matter.  It doesn’t matter, because the thing that mattered still hangs on his lips, still waiting to be said, and now he won’t get another chance to say it.

The fact that I am writing this, even with all my spec, with all my analysis of the writers’ room, of their text, of the way Dabb and co had approached this story, nothing could have ever prepared me for this.  Nothing could have prepared me for a three and a half minute, uninterrupted scene where Cas confesses not only that he loves Dean, but that he has always loved him.

I talk a lot about how these writers don’t get the credit they deserve.  Unfortunately, from most of this fandom, they never will.  We will likely never know the fights with the network they had, the steps backward they had to take, the way they had to beg and fight and claw to get this on the screen.  But they did it.  They did it for these characters, they did it for this dinosaur of a show, and yeah, they did it for us.

It was not easy, I can promise you, to get this greenlit.  They had to fight for this, they likely had to call in favors and make threats and quite literally put their careers on the line (you may scoff at that, but WB is a BIG company, especially in the TV/movie world) for this story.  This story of Dean and Cas, the man dragged out of Hell and the angel who fell for him.

I have tons more to say, and will likely have several more posts about this, but I want to leave all my babes who are worried that that was the end for Dean and Cas with some takeaways.

Sam is missing Eileen.  Dean is missing Cas.  That is no longer a fun subtextual parallel, that is it for them.  Their respective endgames are missing, and they will not know their peace until they get them back.  Chuck will not win.  That’s not the story being told, and right now?  He’s winning.  He’s broken them, left them with nothing, left them with an empty world and a hole in each of their hearts where their person (or angel) used to be.

Our show is going to end with “contentment.”  “Contentment” isn’t from Sam and Dean being filled with grief and hitting the open road.  It isn’t Sam getting Eileen back and leaving Dean with no one.  “Contentment” is Sam and Eileen, Dean and Cas.  Together.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Thanks for the ask and I'd really like to answer this, so can you please complete it? It seems a bit unfinished:

Hi Beautiful💜 Thank you so much for responding. I accidentally hit the ask button when my two canine companions were brought in by my grandsons, soaking wet from the beach and covered in sand.

After watching Sowoozoo 2021, there appeared to be some adjustments to the group spacing, something I had noticed before in BTS’s live performances. BTS being a brand must be protected and be the priority. I believe the members have made incredible sacrifices of their ego to work as a unit, not individuals. They are amazing and I can’t mutter a single word of criticism for their work ethic & their performances. I was looking for your opinion regarding the temporary, in the moment friction between some members vs. others regarding showing too much of a connection lol, to interrupting one. At the AMA’s this year I wonder if JM & JK’s moment on stage was preplanned, spur of the moment and if any of the BTS members suffered repercussions later from the media? Prior to this RM is walking JM down the other side of the stage with a nice firm grip on his shoulder. Perhaps he was performing acupressure to relieve pain? (I am being serious.) I saw the same energy in PTD Boy with Luv when JK makes a heart then turns to JM who blows a kiss. In the fancams, there an exchange with Jin and Jimin that precludes this. It made my question if that was why JK offered JM the heart?

**

Hi @westcoastgal1

Thanks for sending in the complete ask! I think the topic of how jikook's jikooking works with the rest of the group is interesting, but I also think the reality of their relationships/interactions is far less dramatic than many people assume.

Considering your example of jikook at the 2021 AMAs (this is what you meant right?), I assume you're referring to their handshake + chest bump on stage when performing My Universe?

I also watched their entire visit to the 2021 AMAs in case there were other moments of note, and there are a few, but here's the thing:

I think it's expected that in a group of seven men, seven friends, and seven co-workers, a non-platonic relationship of any kind between any 2+ members would complicate things a little. Some friction within a group is natural, and the added wrinkle of intense emotions compromising their judgement does nobody any favours. But I also think BTS have come this far because they genuinely respect each other. And maybe this is because I bias Namjoon, but though it's possible for Joon to have held Jimin in that way to hurt, I honestly think that's unlikely to have been the case. Sometimes a solid grip is just a solid grip, and these are men. Jikook were even kinda tame on stage during the AMAs - in fact, it's their shenanigans on the red carpet that might've warranted the other members side-eying them a bit, but that didn't really happen either.

Which suggests to me the boys are at a point where they live and let live, and to a greater degree than before, allow themselves to be themselves. Just watch the Vlive after the AMA ceremony. Jikook were all over each other and the other five members acted like it was just another Sunday.

I think BTS initially had to make effort to normalize jikook's antics, faking the look that nothing was amiss. And to be completely honest, I think this would've been easy to do because the rest of Bangtan is legit fruity. Jikook do share many habits with the rest of the guys, but yeah, I think this took work at first. And maybe sometimes even now they occasionally get pissed off at each other and their interactions could be the cause. I personally don't see this as something all that significant.

*

For the Sowoozoo example you gave earlier of the jikook staredown just before IDOL on Day 1, I still don't know what really happened with them tbh. It's just one of those unexplained tense kookmin things.

Bringing it back to the basics of your ask, no I don't think the members interfere often with jikook jikooking anymore. And the times they do get involved are smoothed out quickly. Or maybe it just looks this way to me because I haven't really seen a lot of conflict expressed openly on account of jikook. I'm open to hearing more examples though.

Jikook's jikooking appears to have become normalized and even woven into the brand that is BTS. Much of what they (jikook) do is still kinda under the radar but most of the fandom seems to have accepted jikook are close and that's just one of the basic facts about BTS. This is something I've observed even non-shippers admitting to, but they prefer to highlight other duos because talking about jikook attracts a lot of weirdos for obvious reasons.

[sunlight-moonrise]

Sugar, Spice, and Everything (Not So) Nice (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Being a Barista and falling for a regular is as cliche as it gets. Having that customer become your new professor? Not so much. 

A/N: *Peeks head out* Hello everyone. I have come back from my unannounced hiatus to show off this baby. Major thanks to @definitelynotkatesblog​ and @clean-bands-dirty-stories​ for helping me put this fic together. This was written for the lovely @httpnxtt​ for the secret-fic-swap in the Discord (thanks @imagining-in-the-margins​.) I hope you all enjoy this smutty goodness. 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: Face Slapping, Degradation, Slight Hair Pulling, Oral Sex (male receiving), Fingering, Spanking, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex/Creampie

Word Count: 6.4K

Masterlist

Being a barista is pretty awesome. Sure, there were bitchy customers and super early mornings but it had it’s redeeming perks. We got free coffee, tea, and snacks during our shifts, which served the caffeine addict in me. I also learned how to make popular lattes, mochas, and frappes that I ended up making at home for myself one too many times. While there were the occasional assholes who couldn’t appear human before getting their hands on some caffeine, there were the regulars who made it worth it. Most of the regulars were so sweet, I appreciated a familiar face when they came in. Some.. more than others.

“He’s baaaaaaaaack,” my coworker Hazel whispered to me in a sing-song voice as she scribbled a customer’s name on a cup. I turned to see who she was talking about, but I already had an inkling about who it was.

My suspicions were correct. I turned to see one of our kindest regulars, my personal favorite customer, Dr. Spencer Reid. Is it weird to know the full name -including the honorific- of a customer? Possibly. But when I’d asked for his name to write on his cup the first time he came in, he accidentally gave me his full name. 

“Dr. Reid- uh, Spencer. Sorry, work habit.” He stuttered, avoiding my eyes after the mistake.

“No worries! What can I get started for you?”

As a Criminology major,  I learned to study the people who catch my attention before indulging them. Call it an old habit. 

Dr. Spencer Reid had earned his title and then some. He’d joined the FBI at only 22, having six degrees under his belt by the age of 27. He’d written several dissertations and co-wrote novels with his colleague, David Rossi. Someone with his reputation could be a pompous ass and have a leg to stand on, which is what made his humbled demeanor so much sweeter. He was also incredibly easy on the eyes, which was a nice little bow on top. 

Hazel liked to joke about how we’d make a cute couple but I know she only did it to watch me get flustered.  

I walked towards the counter to take his order, leaving Hazel with the task of refilling the caramel syrup. I’m always the one to help him since he very aptly pointed out that I’m the only one who makes his coffee just how he likes it.  

Some days, he’d let me surprise him with a random creation. I’d confirm if he wanted caffeine (he always did), iced or not, and any flavor requests. He’d take his drink, tip me handsomely and let me know his thoughts on the drink the next time he came in. So far, his favorite was the almond milk honey latte I’d concocted. It was nice to have a little bit of fun, especially with regulars who were as consistent as him.

“Hey Doc, what can I get ya’?” I asked.

“The usual, please,” he said with a smile. I nodded and set off to make his drink: a venti dark roast with a shit ton of sugar, a dash of nutmeg, and a tiny bit of cinnamon.

“Of course!” I quickly go to fill his order, making sure to put a complimentary treat in a bag for him. I know he had the ultimate sweet tooth so I try to sneak him a confection whenever I can. At first, he was a bit reluctant to take the free pastries, but nowadays he usually smiles when he sees the small bag. 

“Here ya’ go.” I handed him his steamy cup of caffeine along with the little treat, seeing him smile at the small pun I add to his cup, “Have a BREW-tiful day, Doctor!” I watched as his lips landed on the rim of the cup, taking a long sip of the hot coffee. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the sight making my cheeks promptly flush. I cleared my throat before asking, “Is it good?”

“It’s always good when you make it,” he stated matter of factly, a small smile touching his lips. The heat in my cheeks rose again. “Will you be taking a course this summer?” he asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it. My first day is actually later today. I’m surprised the class section was open, to be honest.” Super surprised actually. I’d been trying to enroll in this class for the past couple of semesters but it was always full by the time I was able to even load the registration page.

“Well, I’ll wish you luck, but I’m sure you won’t need it.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“I can just tell.” He stated calmly, like it was common knowledge. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain. Before he could respond, an insistent cough caught both of our attention. I peeked over Spencer’s shoulder to see a customer waiting for his order to be taken. I turned my attention back to the Doctor, an annoyed look painted on my face. He nodded, taking a hint from the impatient mouth breather behind him. 

“Thank you for the coffee. Enjoy the rest of your day. I hope that class goes well.”

“Bye, you too.” I waved, watching as he exited the door. I turned to the waiting customer, a bit miffed that he interrupted our conversation. But because I was at work, I plastered a fake smile on my face so that he wouldn’t see just how annoyed I was. “Welcome, how may I help you?”

●●●

After clocking out at 2:30 PM, I made a dash for the building where my class would be held. It’s not supposed to start for another half-hour, but I wanted to be sure to get there in time to choose a good seat and settle in before the rest of the class arrived.

Luckily room 301 was relatively empty so I was able to score a perfect seat by the window. I decided to kill some time by listening to some music and doodling randomly in my notebook. Some time had passed when I felt someone take the seat next to me. I turned to see a young man occupying the chair beside mine. He looked to be a frat boy based on the Greek letters he was sporting. Who wears a cap and hoodie in this weather? I really hope he didn’t expect to cheat off of me- although these types of guys always seem to do so.

I was about to return to my doodle when I felt a poke on my shoulder. I turned to give the offender my full attention, removing one of the earbuds from my ears. 

“Hey, I’m Tony,” frat boy said, with a wide smile adorning his face. I must admit, his boyish grin melted the slight annoyance I had begun to stir toward him. I returned his greeting and introduced myself as well. “I don’t mean to be a bother,” he continued, “but I like to have at least one buddy in each of my classes. In case we need help or miss an assignment or something.”

I nodded my head - a friend in a class was always useful when it came to studying and swapping notes. We chatted a bit more, learning about each other’s major and why we both decided to take a summer course. Tony is a double major and this course will satisfy the credits he needs for his psychology requirement. This is why you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. 

It wasn’t until I heard the hush of the classroom that I realized the class was about to begin. I turned back to my notebook, preparing to jot down some important information despite it being the first day of class.

“Good morning class.” Wait. That voice... I didn’t even need to pick my head up to know who had spoken. “This is Criminal Psychology and I am your instructor, Doctor Spencer Reid. Unfortunately, Professor Monroe could not cover this course so I’ll be his permanent replacement. Now…”

I raised my head, watching as he continued to talk about what is to be expected in this course while a TA handed out the syllabus. He went on, able to capture the attention of everyone while speaking of the experiences he had with an array of criminals. His eyes scanned the room and for a brief moment I thought they would land on me, but they continued to take in the mass amount of students before him.

My concentration was broken by Tony passing me a copy of the syllabus. I scanned it over, making sure to highlight all the important dates. I didn’t want any exams or projects conflicting with my work schedule. I also made note of how the overall grade system is broken down. The whole thing seems pretty fair and everything was spaced out enough where I wouldn’t feel too overwhelmed with the workload.

“… and that pretty much wraps it up. Does anyone have any questions?” I tuned in just as he was pulling the first class to a close. No one raised their hands, so he dismissed us with a reminder to read the first chapter of the textbook and to check for any emails.

“So do you want to grab lunch?” Tony asked from beside me. I contemplated whether or not to go with him. He must have seen the hesitation in my face because he quickly added, “Not as a date or anything, I just wanted to grab a bite and I didn’t want to do it alone.”

“Sure,” I smiled, “Let me just ask the professor a quick question about his office hours and I’ll meet you at the food court.”

“Sweet, I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, Tony gathered his stuff and exited the back door. 

I focused my attention on the podium, seeing a gaggle of girls surrounding him asking redundant questions. From what I could hear, their questions could have been answered if they’d read the syllabus. I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, they were probably more focused on him rather than what he was saying during class. I waited a few more minutes for them to finish up before I made my way to him.

“So do I call you Doctor or Professor now?” I laughed. 

“From you, I’d respond to either,” he replied warmly. The comment made me blush. If he looked into my eyes at that moment, he’d see more stars in them than the night sky. I bit my lip to stop the idiotic grin from spreading across my face. 

He’s your professor, get a hold of yourself.

“How can I help?” he asked, bringing me back to the original reason as to why I was standing in front of him without a cash register between us. 

I cleared my throat. “Um, I was wondering if it was possible to see you outside your normal office hours? I usually work the morning shifts and I don’t want to flood your emails with my questions.” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. “You can come to my office at whatever time works best for you. I know balancing a work and school schedule can be hard. Besides, I’m usually there handling paperwork anyway.” He gave a small shrug, pushing his hands in his pockets. 

“Thank you so much. I look forward to the rest of the semester Professor Reid.” I liked the way his newfound honorific rolled off my tongue. 

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Professor.” With that, I left and headed out to meet Tony. 

I was able to find him at the food court. We got some food and chatted more about our classes as well as life outside of school. He made it easy to be his friend, and it was nice having someone to talk to. He works as a waiter so we shared our customer service horror stories and tales of sneaking food at work. It was a nice distraction that took my mind off of Dr. Reid and the ongoing battle of calling him Doctor or Professor. As Tony rambled, my mind wandered about other things I’d like to call Spencer instead. 

●●●

In that short span of two weeks, we already had an exam, an oral presentation, and a report on the psychoanalysis of serial killers. Not one day had been wasted, but this is what to be expected from a summer course. The essay was due the day before. Now we had to wait for our grades which gave us a moment to take a breath.

I was worried that my paper was subpar; especially since I chose to write about Andrei Chikatilo, a serial killer from Ukraine. He wasn’t as popular as those in America, so I ended up spending hours on deep research to find substantial information about his crimes. It also didn’t help that some of the original reports weren’t in English. I had worked hard, and hoped Professor Reid would see that, even if my writing could sometimes be a little weak. I was worried about the grade as our research papers held the weight of 20% of our final mark. 

“Hello? Earth to Y/N! Anyone in there?” Hazel’s voice pierced through my worry bubble, her hand waving in front of my face. I shook my head, trying to focus on restocking the coffee beans.

“Sorry Haze, I’m thinking about this class.”

“Funny you say that; your favorite professor just walked in. Thought you might want to take his order.” She wagged her brows at me, making kissy faces as I hurried to the front register, trying my best to not let my eagerness be so glaringly obvious.

There he was, in his usual handsome glory, patiently waiting for me to take his order. He greeted me with a small smile that I happily returned.

“Hey Doc, what can I get you today?”

He debated for a moment before saying, “Surprise me.”

“Gotcha.” I already had an in my head; it’d been a while since he asked me to make him a random drink so I’d had plenty of time to plan. We got an early shipment of ingredients for our fall-themed drinks and I figured he would appreciate some pumpkin spice in his caffeine. “How are the papers coming along?” I asked casually as I rang him up.

“Pretty well. I’m almost done, so you’ll all receive your grades later today.” Wow, that was fast. I wondered if he stayed up reading all those papers to be done by today. Probably not, a TA must have helped him.

“I am a bit nervous about mine, especially since it’s worth a huge part of our final grade.” I really wanted to get an A in this course, but it was hard juggling everything in such a short amount of time.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he reassured. “I haven’t properly finished yours yet but it looked great just from what I’ve seen thus far.” His words gave me a little reassurance.

“Thanks. I put a lot of effort into it. Let me grab your coffee now.” Spencer walked towards the pick-up station while I grabbed a venti cup for his drink. Just when I was about to make his order, I saw another familiar face come up to the register. “Tony, hey!” I shouted, placing the cup back down, “What can I get you?” 

This was the first time he’d been here, despite him saying for the past few days that he’d stop by for a visit, even with the promise of a cake pop if he did. It was nice to see another familiar face.

“Hey coffee girl, how you doin’ today?”

“Just peachy. My feet are killing me, though.” Just saying the words caused the ache on the soles of my feet to spike higher. I thanked my lucky stars I was almost done with this eight-hour shift.

“Give me the chance to sweep you off your feet, I promise you won’t regret it.” he offered boldly. It wasn’t the first time he’d joked about taking me out. I laughed, especially since he had a girlfriend. She met us for lunch one day and we became fast friends- she was an incredibly sweet and intelligent girl, polite and elegant as well. It is a wonder how his frat boy charm won her over but opposites attract, I guess.

“Shut up, Casanova. What are you gonna have?”

“I’ll have a grande iced matcha latte, please.” I should’ve known. He told me that he loves matcha flavored food and drinks the first time we grabbed lunch after class. He had complained that there was no good place to get one on campus. 

“Coming right up.” I quickly filled his order since it was faster to make compared to the pumpkin spiced latte. I handed him his bribe-cake pop, matcha flavor of course, while he waited for me to finish making his drink.

“By the way, we’re still studying at the library for the exam later tonight, right?” Tony asked.

“Yup, I’ll meet you at 8.”

“Copy that, see you later coffee girl.” He turned to leave while I turned to make Professor Reid’s order. I put extra whip cream and a bit more syrup to satiate his sweet tooth. I grabbed a fresh chocolate muffin from the display case and popped it into a bag for him as well, drawing yet another pun on the good doctors bag. “Thanks for being such a TEA-rrific professor!”

“Here ya’ go Doc,” I called out before placing his drink and muffin on the counter. I looked up to see him no longer smiling. “Is everything okay?”

Ignoring my question, he said, “I wasn’t aware you were so close to Mr. Montgomery.”

“Oh yeah, we study together once in a while.” I could have sworn I saw his frown deepen before his features became void of any emotions. He shifted his eyes downward, his hand moving rapidly to grab the cup.

“I should get going.”

“Oh, okay” Before I could say goodbye, he was already halfway out the door. 

That was weird. I looked at the counter and noticed that he left the cupcake behind. Maybe he was in a rush?

I shook my head. I needed to concentrate on making it through the last couple of hours of work. 

●●●

I made my way to the classroom, smiling at Tony as he pulled out my seat for me. Professor Reid walked in a few minutes later, his tall figure drawing all the attention to the center of the small stage. He let us know he already graded the papers and that they would be distributed by the TA before the end of class. I had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach but decided to brush it off and pay attention in class. Despite my attempts to focus on his lecture, I found my mind wandering every so often anyway.

I couldn’t help but think he was less animated today. Usually, he taught with such passion that the class couldn’t take their eyes off him. But today, it felt as if we were all in a boring seminar with an ancient professor. Tony kept glancing at the clock, probably also wondering why time felt like it was going by so slowly. 

I couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling the entire class. It didn’t help matters that every time I would raise my hand to answer a question, he would call on another student. What the hell did I do? 

I decided to tune out the rest of the class. There is no point in being an actively engaged student if I wasn’t going to get treated like one. I’d just get the notes from Tony later.

Thirty minutes before the end of class, the TA handed out our essays while Professor Reid wrapped. 

“Some of you did very well, while a few others struggled with the assignment.” His eyes landed on mine as he said that. It was the first time he had glanced in my direction the whole class. He moved on to the other side of the room. My mind was probably just playing tricks on me. “If you have any questions you can see me at my office hours next week or send me an email. You are dismissed.”

The TA finally made his way over to me, handing my essay in a slight fold. I looked at the grade on top and almost dropped the paper. My heart sped up as I stared at the letter in bright red ink. No way, no way this could be my report. I looked at the right-hand corner and saw my name at the top. I read through the first page and saw they were indeed my words.

How the fuck was it possible that I got a D on this paper? I knew my writing wasn’t the strongest, but a D? 

“How you’d do?” Tony asked. For a moment I forgot I was in a room with other people.

I cleared my throat, trying to relive the lump so that he didn’t hear the croak in my voice. “Umm, not what I expected. I’m going to try to speak to him about it.” Tony was a smart kid, so I was sure he could see how tense I was. Luckily he didn’t question me any further and instead told me he’d text me later before leaving the classroom.

Fortunately, there were no other students in the classroom to slow me down this time. I walked right up to the podium, watching as Professor Reid placed some papers in his satchel. 

“Professor, I need to speak with you.”

“Not now, I’m busy,” he replied, not even bothering to glance in my direction. This can’t be real. The sweet, kind Doc could not be the man acting like a total asshole right now.

“I really need to discuss with you my paper,” I pressed, raising my voice a little louder in an attempt to get his attention. That was wishful thinking on my part since he continued to fiddle with his satchel.

“I said I’m busy,” he uttered once again, his voice void of any emotion. He was about to walk past me, ignoring my whole being. His blatant disregard made my cheeks burn, and not in the usual way they usually did when I was around him.

“Spencer,” I barked, “We need to talk. Now.” For a few moments, he stood in front of me, his back facing my direction.

I was about to speak again before I heard him say, “My office. Half an hour.” He exited, leaving me alone in an empty classroom. The only things keeping me company were the fuming feelings swirling inside me and the failed paper clutched at my fist. 

●●●

I knocked on his office door ten minutes earlier than he’d told me. The anger in my gut brewed hotter the longer I waited. As soon as I heard a “Come in,” I rushed through the door, slamming it behind me. He regarded me coolly, but didn’t comment on my actions. 

“What can I do for you Ms. (Y/L/N)?” I walked up to his large desk, not bothering to take a seat in the chair in front of me. I took a moment to calm myself down before replying.

“Well, you can start by explaining to me why I got such a low score on my paper.” I guess he didn’t like being the only one of us sitting down because he stood up and leaned against the wall behind him.

“It did not meet the requirements for a passing grade as outlined in the rubric. The information given was boring and the overall topic was uninteresting. It was tedious to get through,” he responded nonchalantly, like he was giving me a weather report.  

“You said that you enjoyed it so far.” I rebutted, placing my hands on the desk. I needed something to offer me stability so that I wasn’t visibly shaking.  

“I’d mistaken your work for another student’s. Maybe Mr. Montgomery,” he dryly clipped.

A bitter laugh escaped me as I put the puzzle together. Was- was he serious? Was this man acting like this because of Tony? The audacity! The laugh that bubbled from my lips must have unsettled him. He left his position from the wall in favor of standing in front of me.

“You want to know what I think?” I didn’t give him a chance to respond before continuing, “I think you’re jealous that I have another guy that isn’t you getting friendly with me at the shop and because of your inability to keep your---“

“That is enough,” he grounded out, shaking his head. But I didn’t stop talking.

“--private feelings away from your professional ones, you decided to give me a failing grade. Do you know how hard I worked in-” my voice rose up higher and higher until I was yelling.

“I said that’s enough,” he said again, louder this time. But I wasn’t done.

“-this class? This is my life, my fucking future on the line. I’ve told you how important this all is to me and you don’t even give a shit! You’re going to let your interpretation of my relationship with another student influence the way you do your job? And here I thought you were a decent man, Professor.” I hissed, “Do you even give a damn abo-”

“Enough,” he roared, slamming his hands on the desk and caging me against the wood. His breathing was matching the upbeat pace of my own. His quick movement and the sheer volume of his voice caught me off guard, effectively silencing me. 

“I don’t deserve to be punished over your envy,” I whispered, locking eyes with him in a steady gaze.

“You want to see a real punishment, darling?” he hissed, the heat of his words almost breaking my glare, his breath fanning along my face.

We stared at one another for a while, neither of us willing to be the first to back down. The tension between us kept rising and rising until the inevitable happened. I couldn’t be sure who made the first move but before I knew it, our lips collided with a mix of rage and desperation. My arms draped around his neck as he pressed me on to the desk. He placed his hands on the back of my thighs, lifting me up high enough until I was perched on the cool wooden surface.

Spencer’s lips were soft, a stark contrast to the harsh way he was kissing me. His tongue parted my lips, gliding over mine with fervor. I couldn’t help but moan as he rolled his hips into me. He continued his rough grind, keeping my legs open as we moved as close together as our bodies would allow. He overwhelmed my senses- the smell of him, the taste of him, the feel of him. Everything was making me absolutely feral for this man. 

I never expected the gentle Dr. Reid to be so fervent, so sensual. The kindhearted, sweet professor who regularly drank his weight in caffeine never gave me this impression. But then again, I’m sure he was shocked by my attitude as well. He knew me as the friendly, bubbly barista, now student, who enjoyed his class. He was about to meet a whole new side of me, just like I was going to for him.

Spencer pulled away from me, our mouths making an audible ‘pop’ sound from the sudden separation. I tried to catch my breath as he stared at me, our chests rising and falling together. If I were to move a bit closer to him, we would be touching once again.

He took a few steps back before motioning me to step in front of him. “I want you to get down on your knees. Now.” I wasn’t going to argue with him, mainly because I wanted the exact same thing he did. I kneeled down, keeping my eyes on his face.

“You going to shut me up, Professor?” I teased, feeling powerful, even though he was looming over me. He didn’t reply, just continued to look down on me with those honey colored eyes- full of lust and rage.

I watched as he slowly placed his hands on his slacks, undoing the belt and buttons. He drew down his pants and boxers at the same time, just low enough to reveal his impressive size. My mouth salivated at the sight of his bulge as he came closer to me.

“We’re going to put that smart mouth to better use. Open.” He said, gripping my face between his fingers, forcing me to follow his orders. I opened my mouth slightly, not giving him exactly what he wanted. Instead of ordering my mouth to open further like I expected, he placed his thumb inside. He pushed the digit deep, pressing it against my tongue. I moaned around the finger, softly nibbling at the skin. He continued to slide his finger within my mouth before dragging it out completely. He wiped the excess spit on my cheek before lightly smacking it. The small shock of pain sent a shiver down my spine.

“Open, and do it right this time.”

I obeyed, opening wide enough to accept him into my mouth. My lips were stretched almost uncomfortably in an attempt to fit around him. He was so hot and thick, I couldn’t help but hum at the taste of him on my tongue. The soft “fuck” that fell from his lips had me purring around him. I went to place my hands on the remaining portion that couldn’t fit, but he batted them away.

“You’re using only your mouth.” 

Fine, have it your way, Sir. 

I placed my hands behind me as I bobbed my head, hallowing my cheeks with every rise. His shallow thrusts encouraged me to suck harder. I slowly pulled away to run my tongue against the vein protruding on the underside of his cock. I was rewarded with a groan escaping his lips.

“I should have known that you would be so good at this, darling,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse as he tried to control his grunts.

I made sure to look in his eyes as I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock. The face he made was purely angelic. The muscles of his neck protruded more evidently and his breathing became more labored. I placed him back in my mouth, this time taking my time to go down on him.

“That’s right, Princess. Show me what a good girl you are for me.” He moaned as I felt his hands weave in my hair before he pushed my head down on to him, causing me to gag around him, tears pricking my eyes. He continued his thrusts into my mouth, barely allowing me a chance to breathe. My nose repeatedly touched the base of him as I swallowed around his hard length.

Spencer tightened his fingers in my hair and I knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.  The pace was brutal, but I enjoyed the rough treatment. Knowing that I was the one making him feel good was such a turn on. He buried himself deep in my throat after a few more thrusts to finish. I swallowed his release like the greedy brat that we both now knew I was.

He eventually pulled out, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips. I swiped the back off my hand across my mouth to clean off any leftover spit and cum.

“Get up,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.

I did so, rubbing the ache in my knees as I slowly rose. “I want you bent over the desk,” he continued.

“I want you to answer my previous question.” I quipped.

“You’re not in the position to be making commands,” he growled. He wrapped his fingers in my hair again, pulling just roughly enough so that I was looking up at his face. “If you want this to end well for you, I suggest bending over my desk before I stuff my cock in that bratty little mouth of yours again.”

He released me, eyes still on my face waiting for me to follow through on his order. I turned to his desk and did as he asked, bending over the wood until my chest laid flat against the surface. I waited as patiently as I could for him. It felt as if I was in this position for an eternity before he touched me. He pushed both my underwear and skirt down to my knees before placing his hands on my hips. I heard it before I felt it- the smack on my ass that caused me to yelp.

“Fuck, Spencer. What the—” I was cut off with another resounding smack.

“Did you really think that I wasn’t going to give you a real punishment, darling?” I took a deep breath as another shiver went down my spine. He had no business sounding so hot right now. Another smack, this time on my opposite cheek, had me biting down on my lip to stop myself from crying out.

“This” *SMACK* “Is” *SMACK* “What” *SMACK* “Happens” *SMACK* “To” *SMACK* “Bratty” *SMACK* “Little” *SMACK* “Girls” *SMACK*. A sob ripped from my chest as the last blow landed. My ass was on fire and surely littered with his hand prints.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood since you sucked me off so nicely, or I would have made that worse.”

Gee, thanks.

“You look like such a dirty slut like this.” I felt a finger enter me easily, the wetness gathered there making my entrance ready to take him. “So wet. Was it the spanking that got you like this, or your mouth around my cock?” A moan was my only reply as he added another finger, the two digits moving in a scissoring motion. 

“Are you gonna be my sweet girl, now?” He asked as I moved my hips along his fingers, desperately trying to seek some more relief for the fire burning between my thighs as his mouth littered marks along my thighs. I closed my eyes, focusing on the pleasure he was giving me as he curled his fingers, a slow moan falling from my lips. He pulled them out of me, wiping the slickness against my still burning ass. Fucking bastard. I wiggled my hips against him, hoping he would grant me a reprieve and put his fingers back inside me. Instead, he spanked my ass one more time- one quick, sharp blow against the bruised cheek.

Just when I was about to yell at him, he placed the head of his member against my entrance. He moved up and down my drenched entrance before penetrating me in one full thrust. I took a short breath in, trying to get used to feeling so full. He was stretching me out in the most amazing way.

Spencer waited until I was grinding against him before he pulled out and pushed back into me. “Look at you, such a wanton little bitch aren’t you?” He could call me whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop fucking me.

He kept a steady pace, making sure to grind into me every time he slammed back in. The obscene sound of our skin smacking against one another’s and the moans escaping our throats was an erotic symphony that had my body heat raising the temperature in the room.

He hitched my leg on top of the desk, entering in an angle that made the pleasure so much better. I couldn’t stop the whines that kept escaping my mouth every time he pounded into me. His hand stayed upon my leg, holding me down and limiting my movements. His nails dug into the skin so harshly I was sure there would be bruises left in their wake.  

“Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me,” he hissed under his breath. “Should have known you just needed to be fucked like the cheap whore you are.” He sped up, hips snapping at an almost punishing pace. The desk creaked every time he slammed into me. I hoped no one was nearby to hear what was going on. A whine left my throat when I felt his fingers rub against my clit. I was so close now.

“Should I stay inside you? Fill you up so you walk around campus carrying my child?” He growls, his pace increasing with each passing moment. “Knock you up so the whole campus knows what a whore you are for me?” He asks, earning a cry ripped from my throat. 

“Who’s fucking you?” he grunted. I don’t know how he expected me to form a coherent statement at this current moment. My eyes could barely stay open at this point. 

“Spencer, please.” He smacked the outside of my thigh.

“Try again, who’s fucking you?” 

“You are, Doctor.” Apparently, that was the wrong answer too, because it earned me another smack on my thigh. I had tears streaming down my face from the pleasurable pain he was giving me.

“You have one more chance or else I’m not letting you come. Now, who’s is fucking you?”

“Professor Reid!” I cried out.

“That’s right darling. Now come on my cock.” A harsh bite on my neck was the ultimate push that had me seeing stars. Spencer thrusted a few more times before fully sheathing himself within me.

He slumped over me, the feel of his breath against my neck causing me to shiver once more. We took a moment to have the high leave our body before he pulled out of me, a gasp leaving the both of us. Spencer was the first to break the silence between us.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked, his voice a bit shy. 

I giggled at his demeanor. A few moments ago, he was fucking me senseless and spanking me over his desk like a porno, and now he was asking me out to dinner. 

“Absolutely,” I smiled. “But I should probably cancel my study plans.” I quickly added. 

He led me to the faculty bathroom so I could freshen myself up. When I emerged, he was back to being the prim and proper professor I knew him to be. Just before we left his office, he leaned down and whispered, “By the way, you got an A.”

[isabellehemlock]

[ ID. A digital mockup of a bookcover design featuring an above vantage view of the ocean and beach. On the right is the title of the fic, "Endless Ocean" and beneath it in smaller font are the AO3 handles of the author, "Isabelle Hemlock" and co-creator, "Lumus Winter." The middle of the cover is a faux spine featuring a vertical print of the right side. On the left side is the summary of the fic which can be read under the cut. END ID.]

I recently discovered that Endless Ocean reached 25k hits and I just wanted to find a creative way to honor that (so here's my first book cover graphic lol), and say thank you to everyone all at once. I 100% consider its popularity a one time fluke haha, and of course quantity does not equate quality - but I am so humbled by so many people who shared with me how much they felt seen, or related to its themes of grief, trauma and healing.

It was a healing experience in my own grieving process and though I believe you should write for yourself first, I will admit it has been incredible to see the fic resonate with people. Thank you to everyone who showed their support in so many lovely ways, and please don't hesitate to read the whole series if you'd like to see a decade time jump epilogue where Joe and Nicky have their happily ever after.

Regardless of whether you've read the fic or not, my main goal was to say - in all its simplicity and complexities - that the healing path is not linear. And to anyone who needs to hear it today: you are worthy of healing.

Thank you everyone, and have a blessed day.

Underneath the cut is the summary of the fic

Nicolò Di Genova is home for the summer after he graduated college - except, things are tense and strange. His Dad, a big shot lawyer who works for Merrick Enterprises, has hired extra security, and seems a bit miffed he came home for the summer instead of touring Europe like he had wanted him, too. But Nicky was just trying to spend his summer in the pool while he works some things out . . .

Joe is hired as extra security to watch over a guy who knows nothing about life (or so he thinks). This is his last job, and then he’s done - he’s out, and can just focus on what he needs to do next. But what was supposed to be an easy job of watching a rich kid sunbathing while his Dad coordinates his grand jury testimony with the DEA, turns into something much more dangerous. It’s not just Nicky’s Dad who is in danger - it’s Nicky, too.

Because someone has decided he wants him all to himself . . . and it’s not just Joe.

[skipps-writes-for-gojo-satoru]

I'm not sure Gojo has ever even shown an interest to any girls.

He calls Utahime weak and teases her by making fun of her, essentially- which she hates. Mei Mei is incredibly strong and beautiful, and Gojo acknowledges her skill but that's it. I also noticed that in the anime (the manga doesn't have honorifics, so please correct me if I'm wrong) but he calls her Mei-san rather than Mei Mei. Therefore, I don't think he ever tried to get much closer to her than the interactions we've seen. When she asks him if he'd comfort her if she cried, he tells her that's she strong- she wouldn't cry. I thought it was interesting that while Mei Mei's question was slightly flirty, Gojo answered so simply, without any teasing.

He calls Shoko by her first name, which is understandable since they spend more time together being in the same grade. He realizes that her ability is rare and useful, but like with Utahime and Mei Mei he doesn't go any further than that. He mostly speaks to her about work related things and doesn't flirt or tease much at all.

Honestly, I think Gojo actually respects his female colleagues and mostly pokes fun at Utahime because she's so uptight and strict. Shoko and Mei Mei are more relaxed and self-assured, and Gojo recognizes their skills and compliments them for it rather than teasing them. I doubt Gojo really thinks Utahime is truly weak more than he just loves riling her up. Other than that, Gojo's pretty respectful.

Also, in the Hidden Inventory arc, Gojo was bombarded with screaming from all the girls excited to see him. Other than pulling his shades down so they could see his face- after they asked him to, btw- he didn't really do much else. He didn't even react much to the teacher giving him her phone number. His only comment was "what a fun school," and it's interesting to see that while lots of girls do appreciate his looks, he acts only mildly amused.

Other than that one model as his wallpaper, we don't really see Gojo flirt or show interest with anyone. He only really teases Utahime to piss her off- I suspect he hates how much she follows the rules like Nanami does, who he teases often as well. He likely just enjoys annoying people so stern because rules just don't sit well with him (especially because of what those "rules" had done to Geto).

It's just a possibility, but he could be one of those guys who's more interested in work than pleasure- I know, he's handsome, but not all handsome people are players and cheaters. I think that's a horrible stigma and a lot of attractive people irl are judged and criticized solely for their looks. People make too many assumptions on someone just based on their genes, and I think it's pretty shallow to think Gojo's a womanizer just because he's attractive. And he knows he's attractive- but when did being confident in yourself make you a philanderer? Gojo has never used his looks manipulatively at all.

It's definitely a possibility that he would be a womanizer, but I'd say it's unlikely based in what we've seen. To sum it all up, Gojo doesn't show interest in anyone. He teases Utahime often, likely for the same reason be teases Nanami- they're too uptight. Shoko and Mei Mei are both incredibly skilled and beautiful sorcerers, and he does acknowledge and compliment them for it, but he doesn't tease or flirt with them. He's respectful, and he works with them as his colleagues. He didn't get distracted by the teen girls fawning over him either, or suddenly get overtly cocky or show off, only sliding his glasses down so they could see his face, and even then he acted only mildly amused. Also, when Miwa asked him for a picture, he didn't even stay and chat with her or anything (I know she's a minor, but if he truly was a womanizer, he would have at least stayed to hear her compliment him or anything to feed his ego) Maybe ask her "Oh, you want a picture with me? The strongest? How cute~" A flirty comment, a joke, something to fuel his own ego, but he doesn't do that. He doesn't act in a way that conveys he openly pursues attention from women. He just takes the picture with her and walks off casually.

Therefore, other than the fact that he's handsome- and I know many people who would assume things about someone based on their attractiveness, which is a terrible stereotype- Gojo doesn't show much interest in flirting at all. He could be the type of guy who works more than plays- and there's plenty of guys who are handsome but aren't super interested in playing around. Being handsome doesn't automatically mean he's the type to sneak around and have affairs here and there. It's completely realistic for a handsome man to be uninterested in any kind of relationships- not all men are sex crazed, and being a tease to his friends doesn't make Gojo a flirt either. Teasing your friends is perfectly normal.

Therefore, Gojo being a 28 year old virgin is totally possible- not everyone's a sex crazed teen who only thinks about what's between their legs, and basing it on what normal Japanese teens do is unfair. Neither Gojo or his lifestyle is exactly normal, and there's definitely barriers when it comes to experiencing normal youth activities for Gojo's generation- especially Gojo's generation. Yuji's generation definitely has more freedom to do fun things because of what Gojo has done to give the youth more freedom- things he hasn't been able to experience himself in his youth, like playing baseball during the exchange event. That was the first time they ever did something different to tradition, and that was only because of Gojo's consideration.

Gojo's youth was filled with blood, exorcising, and choosing between life and death. The deaths Yuji and co. witnessed were what Gojo experienced as well, if not worse. Gojo's task in his youth was to protect the weak, and he found that burdensome. At least, until Geto betrayed them, and Gojo realized the new burden he had to bear in changing the Jujutsu world because of what it had done to his only best friend.

There are definitely more important things in Gojo's mind than just losing his virginity, like saving people and choosing who to save, whether he should kill or not kill.

Gojo is the strongest, but he also bears the biggest burden- and that burden is something he chose to bear, and being the strongest is something he chose to be. Because before Geto left, it was "We are the Strongest." Now, Gojo worked tirelessly so that he could say "I am the Strongest."

And that's not something you can do while sleeping around. I think a lot of people fail to recognize just how hard Gojo works for himself and others. They just think, oh he's the strongest, so it should be easy for him. But it's really, really not that simple, is it? Especially when you have to do it on your own, and even then Gojo realizes that his strength alone isn't enough to save people. He can't save everyone by himself- It's not enough for just him to be the Strongest, so he works diligently to build and inspire his students to stand with him.

He's actually a very deep and emotional man who cares about his students and especially, even now, his best friend. Everything he does is for their sake- he sacrifices the normal life he could have lived, like Nanami had done, for their sake. And he fights with the higher ups, takes the brunt of their ire, and laughs it off, acting as if he fine, like a dad pretending he's superman for his kid's sake. But Gojo is burdened, and he's tired, and he hardly sleeps, and he has the most missions- he's the Strongest, which means everyone needs him, and he bears it.

Sorry for ranting again tho. I think I went into two different topics lol oops- 🤔

OUR SAVIOR 🤔 EDUCATING PEOPLE pay attention ya'll another thing I've noticed in the latest episode is that in his phone contacts he actually writes Utahime's name properly like formally no emojis or teasing shit he actually sees them as his colleagues people he can rely on his field of work and yes about the whole thing when he bursted into riko's class man was absolutely clueless just silent as a teacher tries to give him his number. I'm pretty sure as a child Gojo wasn't allowed to attend public schools due him being in danger or putting others in danger so he doesn't know much about public schools or normal people in general since he spends all his time with people from the jujutsu society.

That is definitely true just because someone is good looking that doesnt mean he's some cheap womanizer. I see a lot of people shipping him and Utahime together which is understandable ship who you like but I don't think Gojo as any ulterior motives like wooing Utahime by teasing her he just is plainly teasing ya know like friends do but in this case Utahime hates his guts and he doesnt know. I mean it takes some amount of hate to try to throw hot tea at someone 😂

While certainly I agree Gojo's teen like wasn't the best it was like he literally had a full time job at that age but who's to stay he didn't go messing around one time? I'm sure during his teen days he wanted to experience things he didnt get to to but now could because he lives on his own now. But maybe he didnt at all who knows? Which also raises another question, I wonder if he has any romantic experiences? And this was all before what happened in the hidden inventory arc after that I can see him more becoming invested in his duty and with what happened with geto as well would of definitely had a huge impact on him to try harder even though hes the strongest so that the next generation wouldn't have to experience the things he went through.

It's really sad if you really think about it what hes been through and what he has to shoulder all while keeping the facade that he's okay, I bet there were times he cursed his powers and his life....but he bears with it anyways because everyone is counting on him....

And don't be sorry at all! I am actually really learning alot about Gojo from you. Please continue to tell us your thoughts and feelings. I don't mind at all ❤ and thank you for taking the time to write 💕

[madamewriterofwrongs]

my sweet darling - how about an armed forces 911 AU? Maybe Eddie meets Navy Seal Buckley overseas? Maybe they meet back stateside at the VA?

You, my darling, always send me such fun and interesting prompts. I promise I didn’t forget. 

Ooh, okay. Let’s see...

Prompt Me with AUs

Delta X-Ray (I am Sinking) 

Read on Ao3

Eddie first sees him as he’s getting off the plane in Washington. He’s going to receive a medal. Apparently his work in Bagram made him a hero and not a broken, shell of a man. Who knew. And really, it’s just a glance because he has other things to worry about besides a Navy man getting dressed down by his captain. He doesn’t need to hear what’s being said to know that’s exactly what’s happening. He’s seen that look too many times, felt the hot breath of his superior as they spat harsh words meant to ‘toughen him up’.

As he passes the sailor, he hears something to the effect of “if it happens again, you will be dismissed.” And Eddie wonders how many times this particular man has received this exact lecture. It doesn’t really matter, anyways. He just wants to get his medal, shake a few hands of politicians who think they had anything to do with his ‘accomplishment’ and go home to his wife and child – ex-wife, he reminds himself. Shannon had the papers shipped to Afghanistan. Couldn’t get away fast enough, his mind bitterly supplied. All he would have at the end of the day was his son, and a medal to replace the wedding band he’d worn since he was 19.

Before he knows it, he’s standing on a small stage, a million lights flashing in his eyes as cameras and stage lights practically blind him. His shoulder aches – out of the sling for the afternoon so he can at least look more put together than he feels – and he’s dizzy from the attention. That’s his excuse for why he doesn’t recognize the man standing beside him.

“Seaman Petty Officer First Class Evan Buckley.” A blond man steps forward and Eddie catches himself staring at the dress whites and stone expression for longer than is strictly necessary. He seems a far cry from the officer being scolded less than an hour ago, but it is definitely him. And he was standing on stage beside Eddie, about to receive a medal of his own.

“For distinguishing oneself by heroism not involving actual conflict with an enemy of the United States, Petty Officer Buckley is awarded the Navy and Marine Corps Medal.”

As he watches the stripes being pined on the officer’s lapel, he lets himself wonder what crime the man could have committed to be dressed down and rewarded in the same afternoon.

He’s so curious, in fact, that he nearly misses his own name amongst the titles thrown around.

“Staff Sergeant Edmundo Diaz.” He steps forward, holding his breath until the entire ordeal is finally finished. “For gallantry in action against an enemy of the United States, Staff Sergeant Diaz is awarded the Silver Star.” The medal is heavier than he anticipated, but he supposes that makes sense. It is quite a burden he’ll be carrying around, and now he has a gold star to go with it – he wants to chuckle at the irony of his ‘Silver Star’ actually presenting as a golden one.

It seems everything about his life is a life.

There were a lot of reasons Eddie hated attending events like this: The politics, the bravado, the crowds of people ‘thanking him for his service’. Mostly, though: he never knows anyone. Sure, he can charm a senator or two for a few minutes, swap stories with other officers from other divisions about where they were and what they saw. But those are fleeting relationships, meant to get him through the day. He’ll go back to his hotel room at the end of the night with no more friends than when he’d stepped off the plane in this awful, awful town. Eddie is tired of ‘schmoozing’. With any luck, today will be the last time he has to tell the governor’s wife how lovely she looks in her dress.

That’s when he spots the man sitting at the edge of the bar like he’s trying to hide from the world, and he decides to make his way over.

“Do you mind if I join you?” He asks, even as he sits down.

The other man’s eyes light with recognition – and damn, are they as blue as the sea. “Not at all. Diaz, right?”

“Eddie.” He supplies, raising a finger to the bartender to snag his attention. If he is going to make it to the end of the evening, he’s going to need one, good drink. “And you’re Buckley.”

“Actually, it’s Evan but you can call me ‘Buck’.” His amusement must be evident because his new drinking buddy supplies the answer. “There are a surprising amount of ‘Evan’s in the Navy.”

It had never occurred to him to check how many ‘Eddie’s were in his squadron. Maybe he should ask his CO if that’s why he always called him by his full first name.

“Congratulations, by the way.” Buck looks somewhat nervous even as the words leave his mouth. “On your medal. Good job.”

“Oh.” Is all Eddie can bring himself to say as he stares into the bottom of his glass. “Thanks.”

“You don’t look too happy about it.”

He really isn’t doing a good job of hiding his emotions if this relative stranger ca read him so easily. “No, I-” he takes a deep breath to recalibrate his thoughts and paste his best fake smile. “It is a great honour.”

“Bullshit.” Buck laughs in his face but for some reason, Eddie doesn’t bristle nearly as hard as he expected. It almost feels playful. The rest of Buck’s response is cut off by his buzzing phone on the counter. The man quickly grabs it long enough to check his notifications, returning it to its place at the bar with a disappointed look.

“Are we keeping you from something?”

“Uh, no.” It’s Buck’s turn to look caught out and in need of recalibration. His expression changes much slower. “I’m just waiting for a call from my sister. I sent her an invitation to this thing but she never responded.”

Eddie has experience with family not coming to big social events like this one. Of course, in his case, he never invited them in the first place.

“Family ain’t easy.” He shrugs as he takes a long sip of whatever burning liquid he’d ordered – it really doesn’t matter so long as he can stay sitting here and not mingling with the crowds of vultures.

“It’s more than that.” Buck looks worried, and the way he bites his lip is… Eddie shouldn’t be focusing on that. “It’s just…” The man shakes his head, dismissing whatever feelings were eating at his gut. “I don’t want to bore you.”

“Please.” Eddie leans into his space with a playful smile. “It can’t be any more boring than this event. Please try to bore me to tears, if you dare.”

When Buck smiles, Eddie’s heart flutters out of his chest and sits beside him as they listen to Buck begin to speak. He tells Eddie about his sister, how she cared for him growing up, how she went away with her asshole of a boyfriend – now her deceased asshole of a husband – leaving him to fend for himself. He talks about travelling the country, trying every odd job he could get his hands on, until a buddy of his suggested he join the Navy. And he loves the work, he really does, but he hasn’t seen his sister in over a year. Their last conversation ended in a fight about some family secret that Buck is reluctant to talk about. Even Eddie can tell that the man just misses his sister. No matter what the argument was about.

Eddie finds himself talking – in less detail – about Shannon and the divorce and his son at home. At Buck’s prompting, he shows off his favourite photos of Christopher (avoiding the one burning a whole in his shirt pocket, torn and bloody, which never leaves him). The man’s face positively lights up when he sees the kid, offering an appropriate amount of sympathy for his divorce without pushing him for more emotions.

It’s easy talking to Buck, he realizes after a few hours. Because suddenly, the venue rental is nearly up and he’s still sitting at the corner of the bar, talking to Buck. Sure, a few people have passed by and shaken their hands, thanking them for their service – Eddie cringes every time and Buck has to hide his laughter once he realizes – but for the most part, it’s just the two of them, sitting and talking.

“The flag signalling we use now was established in 1855.” Buck explains as he leans further into Eddie’s space. “And while Robert Morse invented Morse Code in the 1830s, the International Morse Code that we use didn’t come out until the 1850s.”

“How do you know all of that?” Eddie was fairly certain he hadn’t had to study the history of communication when he was in training. But he’d also been very focused on his medical textbook.

Buck was incredibly cute when he blushed, Eddie decides – though he opts to keep that opinion to himself for now. “I get bored and I read.” The man shrugs nonchalantly, as though he hasn’t been entertaining Eddie with stories of Naval history and his own dumb-ass mistakes all evening. Honestly, Eddie wants to sit here all night and listen to Buck tell him stories of the world. It seems like he’s lived a lifetime already. And what has Eddie done? Gotten a girl pregnant, joined the army, gotten shot, and now he doesn’t even have a wife to go home to.

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie realizes too late that Buck looks nervous. He thinks he probably wouldn’t have said yes if he’d noticed. “How did you get your medal?”

Now he knows he doesn’t have to answer – and his initial instinct is to close out his tab and see if he can run to El Paso on his still-injured leg. But he also realizes that he hasn’t told anyone since it happened. Not the full story. Even now, he might not have the words. But he tries.

“Our helicopter got shot down while transporting wounded. I could still move so I got everyone out. Or I tried to get them out.” The echo of gunfire is not as distant as the others told him it would be. He can still smell it. “Support finally arrived and they decided to give me a medal for holding down the fort.”

Buck places a gentle hand over his and Eddie gasps, reminded that it has been a very long time since anyone has touched him. God, how he misses it.

“You saved wounded soldiers in the middle of the desert while being fired on. And you think you were just doing your job?”

“I’m an army medic.” He reasons with the bottom of his glass. “It’s my job to save people.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think that’s why you do it.” Without elaborating, Buck smiles at him and Eddie forgets the question.

“What about you?” He asks instead. “What’s yours for?”

Unlike the enthusiastic, bubbly personality he’s been talking to for the last few hours, Buck melts into the face he saw up on that stage. The stoic, professional.

“We were on our way back from an escort mission when we encountered some rough seas. I happened to be on deck with the chief mate when he had a stroke. I tried to tend to him but the storm was getting worse and no one could find the captain, so I just took over navigation. It was rough, I had no idea what I was doing, but we all made it out safely and the chief mate was okay.” As Buck shrugs, memories of an overheard conversation come flooding back to Eddie’s mind.

“Wait, were you on the USS Angelo?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Eddie can’t believe it. He has to laugh. “You were the cadet who sailed out of Hurricane Ida?”

“I am a petty officer first class, I’ll have you know.”

“Buck, you navigated a 2,000 ton ship out of a hurricane and all they gave you was a lousy medal?”

“I should get that printed on a t-shirt, or something.”

“That was incredibly reckless but also incredibly brave. Buck, you’re a hero.”

“I was just doing my job.” The smirk tells Eddie he knows exactly what he’s doing but it still hits him that he’s throwing Eddie’s words back in his face. Cute and cheeky.

He doesn’t know why he asks – well, he does, but it’s incredibly stupid and impulsive, and he definitely can’t blame it on the alcohol but he sure would like to.

“How long are you in town?”

Buck looks pleasantly surprised by his question but answers with regret in his eyes. “I head out with the Fifth Fleet in the morning.”

Wow. “You just got a medal, and you’re headed out to earn another one?”

“Something like that.” Buck laughs and Eddie wishes he was braver than he felt. “But I won’t be gone forever. And I’m really good at telegraphy if you wanted to send anyone a message.”

He’s so grateful that Buck has the good sense to be everything he needs right now. Because asking the next question is easier with someone standing next to him. “I suppose I’ll need a way to get in touch with you, then.”

Buck winks and Eddie has never been gladder that the concept of ‘standing’ was only metaphorical. The man should not be so irresistible after only a few hours, but Eddie can’t help but watch him push off his barstool and walk around the side of the bar.

“Hey, Diaz!” The spell is broken long enough for him to look across the room at where his name is being called. He waves at old friends – well, Senior Airman Han and Space Force First Sergeant Wilson are the closest things he has to old friends but in actuality, he’s not sure he knows their first names. “We’re going to the afterparty, want to join?”

On a normal night, Eddie would decline on the basis that he doesn’t want to go, and would rather lay in bed and watch reruns of ‘Murder She Wrote’. Tonight, Eddie wants to decline on the basis that he doesn’t want to go, and would rather stay up all night talking to someone who makes me feel curious about the future.

“Not tonight.” He shouts back across the room. “I’ll catch you at the next ceremony.”

They wave him off because they know it’s the same excuse he makes every single time but the only thing that matters is getting back to Buck.

“So.” He turns to the bar only to find it empty. The seat beside him is also unoccupied, as is any of the space surrounding him.

Had he dreamed up Buck? Had he been imagining this person who made him feel like divorce wasn’t his last chance at happiness? Was he truly so desperate and lonely?

“Hey.” Eddie looks up with too much hope in his eyes to only come face-to-face with the bartender. “He left this for you.” The man – who is not Buck, no matter how much Eddie hopes to see those eyes again – slides a napkin across the counter and walks away before Eddie can ask anymore questions.

He picks up the napkin and reads the blue ink-stained note written in messy scrawl.

Kilo

--... .---- --... ..... ..... ..... -.... --... ----. .----

The dots and dashes he recognizes as a series of numbers – a phone number, he hopes – but the word above? He tries to recall his academy days.

Kilo. Short for Kilogram. Used in the International Code of Symbols to represent the letter ‘K’. In Maritime Signal Flags, it indicates: I wish to communicate with you.

He’s pretty sure the bartender hates him for how late he stayed and how loudly he laughed at Buck’s note, but he can’t bring himself to care. Instead, he spends his energy memorizing the napkin’s contents long after he’s input the number. It’s more than just a piece of paper: it’s hope.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Sky Date - Prologue

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date prologue, 云霄之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Do note that you have to read this before embarking on the actual date, because it contains background information and sweet domestic bliss you wouldn't want to miss :>

[ This date was released on 14 April 2021 ]

[ Part One: A Dream About to Take Flight ]

MC: Ahhh! My life is up to me. Not. Up. To. Fate!

The small dice in my furled hand is tossed around several times. When I loosen my grip, it rolls quickly on the map -- ‘2′.

Gavin: Hahaha--

Gavin laughs, but hurriedly retracts his smile when he senses my murderous gaze.

Gavin: It’s okay, things will definitely take a favourable turn in the next round.

Sulky, I let out of a huff. I watch as he picks up the dice, casually rolling a '5′. Then, he cheerfully shifts his own plane on the map by six spaces.

[Note] In the game of Aeroplane Chess, your plane can only leave the starting point if you roll a ‘5′ of ‘6′!

MC: ...

It’s a Saturday afternoon. Gavin and I had nothing to do after eating, so we randomly grabbed a set of Aeroplane Chess from the supermarket to play. But I didn’t expect to have such a terrible gaming experience!

Although it’s been the sixth or seventh round, I just can’t the ‘6′ I need to get my plane out of the hangar. On the other hand, Gavin has always been able to get it to take flight smoothly, and very quickly reaches the goal.

MC: Gavin, with your kind of luck, there’s no need to waste it on playing games with me.

After pondering for a long while, I offer him a serious suggestion.

MC: Let’s head out to buy a lottery ticket?

Gavin: Why don’t we play something else? The paper model from last time was only half done. Since we have time today, we could get it done at one go.

At this moment, the phone on the floor beside me rings. Seeing the familiar number, I tap on the hands-free function.

Nurse: Miss MC, the physical report done at our hospital is ready. Please bring your receipt and collect it within fifteen working days.

MC: Mm, got it, thank you.

Gavin is currently storing the Aeroplane Chess pieces into the box. Hearing this conversation, he gives me a puzzled look.

Gavin: Haven’t you already gone for a physical examination this year? Are you feeling unwell?

MC: No, no. I’m using the report for the registration.

I deliberately pretend to be secretive, leaning towards him. Then, I show him the registration form that I had submitted online beforehand.

MC: I’m going to get a Private Pilot License.

-

[ Part Two: First Day of School ]

On the first day of aviation training, I set the alarm to wake me up at 6.30am. Even Gavin is stunned at the level of enthusiasm I have for learning.

Gavin: The courses for the aviation license can get pretty dry. You have to be mentally prepared.

MC: Are you referring to things like meteorology, aircraft structure, air traffic regulations?

Gavin: Mm. Aside from the exams, such knowledge is necessary for aircraft pilots.

While he speaks, he lifts his head to give me a smile.

Gavin: But they definitely won’t stump you.

After packing my things, I grab a random jacket and prepare to leave.

The classes take place in the suburbs, and it takes an hour to get there. Despite waking up early, I’d be late if I don’t hurry up.

But Gavin is clearly not too worried about this matter. He holds a slice of bread in his mouth while looking at his phone.

Gavin: Since I’m sending you there, you won’t be late. Before your first official lesson, I’ll give you a flight class.

I walk over to him, pulling up the zipper of his uniform, and also picking up the motorcycle helmet from the table.

MC: To prevent this from being a mere flash in the pan, I want to leave the joy of flight to the end of the course. But if going by land would make me late...

Gavin rolls the bread into his mouth, taking the helmet from my hand.

Gavin: No matter the route, you won’t be late. Oh yes, what class are you taking today?

-

[ Part Two, Option 1: Principles of Meteorology ]

Instructor: I’ll ask some small questions to test your foundation and see if you take note of knowledge in this area.

He opens the PowerPoint presentation, then uses a laser pointer to point at the image on the first page - it's a cumulus cloud with a flat bottom layer and a high, upward curve at the top.

Instructor: Does anyone know what this cloud is called?

MC: Cumulus congestus cloud.

Instructor: Correct. The next question - when the International Civil Aviation Organisation observes cloud volume, how many segments do they divide the sky into?

MC: It should be eight segments.

I recall that Gavin brought this up before.

Instructor: Not bad, miss. You did preparatory work beforehand, didn’t you?

MC: No no, I have a friend who has a better understanding in this area, so I was just influenced.

After saying this, chuckles drift from the surroundings. The instructor nods in understanding.

Instructor: In that case, you won’t have a problem during the exams.

MC: ...I’ll do my best.

After all, my confidence is limited when it comes to exams.

Just as I’m thinking about this, I receive a notification on my phone. Gavin has sent me an incredibly large document file.

Gavin: I don’t know how to teach, so I compiled some materials you might need for the exam.

I grip my phone, suddenly feeling like the weather is so good that it makes one carefree and relaxed.

It’s just an exam. I’ll definitely be fine.

-

[ Part Two, Option 2: Aviation Regulations Class ]

At 2pm in the afternoon, the sun shines from above. I had a full meal, so fighting against the sleeping bug is a difficult challenge.

Instructor: Before the flight, the captain has to carry out the necessary inspections of the aircraft. Until the inspections are complete, you can’t take off. This regulation is easy to understand. In fact...

When the dullness of the course matches how fine the weather is, the entire classroom gets immersed in a drowsy atmosphere.

I take a few deep breaths and pat my face... but I still feel like sleeping.

Instructor: Okay, we’ll take a 10 minute break. You students look sleepy, so go wash your faces to freshen up.

The moment he finishes speaking, the sound of heads plopping down on the tables can be heard all around.

Just as I prepare to stand up and stretch, my phone suddenly vibrates.

Delivery boy: Hello, I’ve placed your take-out at the main counter.

MC: Take-out?

But I didn’t order take-out...

While I’m puzzled, the young lady from the main counter very politely brings the item to the classroom - it’s a cup of coffee.

There’s only one simple line on the note of the take-out: Persevere for a little longer. Gavin.

I retrieve the coffee from the bag, taking a tiny slip. The instructor walks past, giving me a glance from the side.

Instructor: Are you drinking coffee or milk tea? You’re smiling so happily.

MC: Being able to swim in the ocean of knowledge is always meant to be a happy thing.

The instructor gives me an expression which says, “like I’d actually believe you”.

MC: Instructor, let’s continue with the lesson. I’m not drowsy anymore. Learning for another four hours is no problem at all!

-

[ Part Three: Being Your Co-pilot ]

Gavin: Do you want to head out for a stroll after dinner? It seems to be really cooling outside.

I’m currently taking out plates from the kitchen drawer, subconsciously craning my head to glance outside.

MC: It’s going to rain, isn’t it...

Gavin: Really? I’ll check the weather forecast. Earlier in the afternoon, Eli mentioned taking out some time to wash his car at night. I even thought today would be a good day.

I step into the living room, setting down plates on the dining table. 

MC: There are just some cumulonimbus clouds in the sky. It might not really rain.

Gavin scrolls through the real-time weather, then gives me a smile.

Gavin: It’s really going to rain.

He gets up, opening the rice cooker and scooping a full bowl of rice for me.

Gavin: At first, I even thought you’d find such theoretical knowledge boring. I didn’t think you’d learn them so earnestly. Looks like you really want to get the license.

MC: Of course. I want to be your co-pilot.

Although Gavin hasn’t even scooped rice for himself, he’s already served me a huge pile of vegetables.

Gavin: Sure. I’ll wait for the day you get your license.

Just as I’m about to talk about how assured I am about getting the license, I realise that the plate on my hand is becoming fuller and fuller. 

Before I can even voice my question, Gavin responds.

Gavin: Learning is tough. You need to eat a little more. I also bought you ice-cream. It’s in the second compartment of the freezer. I remember you mentioning that as long as you eat something delicious during difficult times, you can press on easily.

MC: ...hahaha! Mm! After having this meal, I’ll complete all my post-class homework!

-

[ Aviation Terminology Class ]

MC: Calling for the control tower. Number N8596 has arrived, and is requesting for a landing gate.

Gavin (through the phone): Number N8596, you may use aircraft Gate Number One.

Gavin’s light-hearted laughter drifts from the phone.

Gavin: Shouldn’t your class end at 7pm? It’s only 6pm.

MC: The plan was to be dismissed at 7pm, but... for some reason, those in my class were really interested in the Aviation Terminology class, so they did their preparatory work in advance. The three hour class was over in one and a half hours. The instructor said that we already grasped all the key points, so we were dismissed early. What about you? How much longer till you’re off work?

Gavin: For me... less than half an hour. You could think about what to do with this unexpectedly free hour. I remember that there’s a new dessert shop opposite the cinema.

MC: You remembered? I never even told you about it. How could you remember? Officer Gavin, you better tell me the truth. You didn’t remember it - you specially searched it up.

Gavin: Mm, I specially searched it up. I even found that there are claw machines along the shopping street on the ground level of the cinema. 

MC: Looks like what I’m going to do in the next hour has already been scheduled. 

Gavin: Wait for me at the office first. I’ll look for you once I’m done with the work on hand.

-

[ Part Four: Flight Practice ]

Today’s the first flight practice class. The instructor is sitting in the co-pilot seat, watching my every move throughout the entire journey.

I wasn't nervous at first, but each time he glances at me, I involuntary wonder if I’ve done something wrong.

In an instant, I recall the fear of taking the aviation exam...

Until the plane successfully takes flight, I keep feeling as though the thing suspending in the air isn’t the plane, but my heart.

Instructor: It’s rare for you to make a trip up here. What’s there to be nervous about? Come, lift your head and look at the sky.

At this moment, countless gripes flash across my mind: What’s so nice about the sky? I’ve seen all kinds of skies. Right now, all I want is to fly the plane...

But the moment I lift my head, I’m rendered speechless.

Instructor: How is it? The first time I saw it, I was so stunned that I couldn't speak either.

MC: It’s really beautiful.

Sunlight casts a layer of golden hue on the soft and white clouds, blending the colours of gold and crimson.

I’m unable to describe how the scenery before me makes me feel. 

It’s a feeling which... makes one feel that life has meaning.

All of a sudden, another thought surfaces in my mind: I wonder what went through Gavin’s mind when he saw such a sight for the first time.

The instructor sitting next to me glances at me from the side.

Instructor: Thinking about your boyfriend again?

MC: [blushing] ...no!

Instructor: It’s normal. Each time I’m flying, I can’t help but think of my wife. There isn’t a reason to it. It’s just a sudden thought, an involuntary reaction.

The instructor laughs as he gives me advice with a contagious smile.

Instructor: If you’re thinking about him, just do it. It’s fine. It’s a normal thing. When you see certain things, your natural reaction is to think of someone.

MC: ...Instructor, I usually can’t tell, but you’re actually quite philosophical.

I grab the joystick of the plane, watching as countless clouds drift past leisurely.

All I want to do is take a photograph of this moment for Gavin.

Date: here

-

Gavin watching as I drool over the thought of Eli scrubbing his car in the rain while wearing a singlet:

[luluxa]

Drifter

Something I wanted to do for ages - an illustration to one of my original worlds. And I’m using James as a character because of reasons :D

Edit: the reasons :)

An intro for an AU fic set in one of my original worlds. Written a while ago and by now I honestly don't know when (if) I'm gonna finish it, and as a standalone bit it doesn't make much sense, but I guess it can provide some context for the art.

Guide You

Summary: Jeremy and Richard are set to have an adventure in the lands they know very little about, and of course, for that they will need a guide.

So it would appear they were going in the entirely wrong direction.

Hammond glares at Jeremy, weariness and anger on his little mug underlined poignantly by a ratty beard.

“You are a bellend, Clarkson,” he says very politely due to their new company, a nice change to all the abuse that was hurled at Jeremy for the last three days.

Their – well, Jeremy doesn’t want to say ‘saviour’, since they weren’t dying or anything – their finder inclines his head at Hammond’s expressiveness. An inclined hand is all the emotion that can be read off him, since he doesn’t remove his scarf or goggles, remaining mysteriously faceless and nameless.

“You could turn around and go in whichever direction you wished,” Jeremy retorts testily. He really doesn’t fancy appearing incompetent and pathetic in front of strangers.

“And then explain to your wife and children I just left you in the desert for the wild goats to feast on your flesh?”

Jeremy huffs, gesturing at his face. “Of course, the wild goats wouldn’t do you any harm since you look so much like one they’d accept you in their ranks immediately.”

Hammons scratches at his beard. “I look like Rob Dawny Jr and you know it. Don’t be jealous of my good looks.”

Jeremy lets out a massively sarcastic snort and the mystery man sighs and switches off the engine of his Falcon.

“Would you prefer to continue with this admittedly entertaining comedy double act or shall we make a camp?”

Jeremy and Hammond both grin at the comment and agree that the camp would be great.

“I’m Ainnay,” the man introduces himself at last, as they all dismount. “You, I gather, are from Ktider.”

“We are,” Jeremy nods, “I’m Clarkson, the midget is Hammond, and we were supposed to make a documentary about the desert but he’d challenged me to a race and then we got into the sandstorm and lost all our bearings.”

“You lost our bearings!” Hammond starts again, jabbing a finger at him. “I told you were going the wrong way!”

“Oh sure, because the direction you had proposed wouldn’t have lead us to the mountains a thousand miles from where we’ve started!”

“Yeah, where there’s at least some civilisation and not endless dunes with just an occasional goat skeleton stuck in a dried bush!”

“Gentlemen, please,” Ainnay interrupts them suddenly, holding his palms up. “It’s very easy to get lost in the desert, especially for someone who’s never been here before. Experienced Freemen sometimes get lost in sandstorms. I wouldn’t fight about it on your place. Of course, going for a race in the desert is another matter entirely,” he adds smoothly.

Jeremy gapes at him for a second, exchanges a glace with Hammond, and they both smirk.

“The race was definitely not my fault,” Jeremy says easily.

“You agreed to that!”

“And you agreed to follow me around! Five years ago, in fact!”

At last, Hammond gives up. “Yeah, all right, that was my biggest mistake and I have no choice but to concede it,” he says with as much sarcasm as he can muster.

While they were arguing, Ainnay managed to start a fire and somehow task semi-distracted Hammond with erecting a canopy, so Jeremy can celebrate his victory by sitting down and taking off his incredibly annoying itchy scarf.

“Ohh, I swear, it only cumulates the sand in your hair and does nothing to protect you from it!” he groans, scratching at his head vigorously, while Hammond nods along. “This is rubbish!”

Having brought all his pots and little bags under the canopy, Ainnay sits down as well. “It’s cos you’d put it on all wrong,” he comments. “I’ll show you later how it’s done, but one of the main things is that you put your goggles on it, not under it.”

Jeremy shrugs sheepishly and then has to spend a while ignoring Hammond’s speculations about the comfort of goggles-wearing, because Ainnay takes all his head-gear off as well and appears to be immensely pleasurable to look at.

Swallowing and averting his eyes with an effort from the sinfully pretty bow of pink lips, Jeremy hopes his blush will be mistaken for a heat rash. Will he ever be past this stupid and perverse notion of finding men attractive?

“Are you a Nahan, then?” he hears Hammond ask cautiously and looks up to see a red vertical stripe on Ainnay’s forehead, revealed now when he’s flicked the curls away from his face.

“I am. Couldn’t you tell that by me name?” he asks, looking confused, his accent very slight but audible now when Jeremy thinks about it.

Jeremy glances at Hammond, both of them shrugging.

“Not really. Should we?” Jeremy scowls. “Are we being massively ignorant and rude somehow, by any chance? In which case, please excuse us, we’ve literally came over here a week ago and know close to nothing about the local customs.”

Ainnay smiles, eyes squinted and sparkly, making Jeremy’s insides quiver. “No, not so far, although I can tell already you have a potential.”

Jeremy finds it in himself to snort and Hammond grins ruefully – well, he could get away with a lot, being stupidly charming when he wants to, but Jeremy has nothing to counterbalance his bellendism. He rather hopes he won’t offend Ainnay terribly at some point, as he does, indeed, has a lot of potential – and experience – in this area.

“Nahan people have pretty distinct names,” Ainnay explains calmly, making tea. “A Nahan man will always give you just one, it’s our ‘Amma namet’, a tribe’s name, given to us by someone from the tribe we live in. Those names are Ruisk in origin and usually descriptive – mine, for example, is two words: Ain – soft and Nay – hard.” Ainnay glances up from the tea, looking very soft and lovely indeed, and although Jeremy has known him for twenty minutes, he can tell the ‘hard’ part is there as well.

He nods. “Got it. Why is it always just one name?”

Ainnay offers them cups with tea and switches to making some sort of heavily spiced sandwiches that Hammond eyes with deep distrust.

“Do you believe in any sort of higher power – gods, fate, anything at all?”

Jeremy scowls at the sudden subject swerve. “No,” he says categorically, and Hammond shrugs with indifference. The little fussy moron sips the tea and tries very hard to not make a face – Jeremy thinks the tea is perfectly fine, but then again, Hammond is known to make faces at water. “I mean, we have organised religion in Ktider but it’s no more than a collection of fairy tales and a list of ridiculously strict rules and improbable threats of post-mortem punishment to make an illiterate peasant behave.”

Ainnay frowns fleetingly at that. “How odd. Well, here people do believe in higher powers, although no one’s imposing it on them. I would guess it’s because living somewhere as unpredictable and dangerous as a desert makes you invoke anything at all to ease your struggle with the world around.”

Jeremy contemplates it and nods. “Maybe. The seamen are like that as well – every sea-going man I’ve ever known was superstitious as hell, regarding the seas to be well, almost a deity of its own.”

Ainnay nods. “Yes, so is the desert – you know these lands as Tensah, I think, but it’s really the name of the goddess that is supposedly looking over us.”

Jeremy notes that Ainnay doesn’t seem to be very religious himself, wondering, why doesn’t he conform to the beliefs of his people.

“So what does it have to do with names?” Hammond asks, ever impatient and probably annoyed with the non-promising dinner.

Ainnay doesn’t look bothered with the rudeness, remaining serenely calm and immersed in the food making. “Our tribe names are designed to hide us from the goddess who’s known to not like men very much. Women go by the first name always, as they’ve nothing to fear.”

Men fearing a goddess sounds pretty entertaining – Jeremy’s heard about ancient people worshipping Earth like the ultimate Mother, and it was proposed by some historians in those ancient times women were the rulers – he wonders, whether it was or hell, still is, true for the local desert people.

“I think we have something similar to your Amma namet thing – nicknames,” Jeremy says on an afterthought. “His is Hamster,” he points at Hammond, making the latter glare.

Ainnay hums. “Yeah, we have nicknames too, but it’s not the same thing. Amma namet is absolutely formal and ritualistic rather than amusing and affectionate. It’s for permanent use, since our first name has to be hidden. The first name can only be used one on one, and only your mother can use it, or a person to whom you give that name – usually a life partner. So, if a Nahan man ever gave you his first name he would be actually saying ‘I love you and I want to spend my life with you’.”

“I hope to never hear that one,” Hammond says immediately, and Jeremy immediately and ridiculously wonders what is Ainnay’s first name.

Bad thought, he tells himself angrily. Incredibly bad and out of order.

They receive their plates with the sandwiches and Jeremy makes a point to declare it very tasty – which it is – to counterbalance Hammond’s politely concealed but still evident disgust.

“Don’t mind him. Hammond hates everything that isn’t eggs and gin,” Jeremy explains, talking away his portion to not waste anything.

Hammond lets him with relief. “I don’t hate everything. I’m just not used to foreign food, sorry. I have some crackers on me, I’ll be fine with those.”

Ainnay shrugs. “All right. What’s gin?”

They spend another hour discussing alcoholic beverages and food, Hammond increasingly horrified with Ainnay’s descriptions of the local drinks that seem to include snake bile and scorpions, until Jeremy realises that while remaining perfectly deadpan, Ainnay is having a lot of fun making Hammond queasy, and sits back to be entertained.

“There’s no such thing as rotten shark soup!” Hammond cries eventually, riled up and red in the face. “You’re having me on!”

Ainnay looks at him with clear-eyed sincerity. “Why would I be having you on? It’s a delicacy, I’ve had some, they serve it with fried whale intestines – it’s actually delicious, as long as you don’t breath in.”

On that, Jeremy gives up, giggling and pointing helplessly at Hammond’s constipated mug. “Your stupid tiny face, all scandalised,” he manages at last. “Ainnay, you’ve got to stop or Hammond will be sick.”

Looking pleased with himself, Ainnay nods. “As you wish. Although everything I said was the truth.”  

“You’re worse than Clarkson,” Hammond says, looking hurt. “I hoped to meet someone nice on this journey.”

Ainnay’s expression remains as kindly and innocent as it was. “Tough luck.”

Jeremy dissolves in giggles again, delighted beyond words, and Hammond turns away pointedly, sulking.

“And here I thought we’ll be stuck with just the scenes of the dunes and Hammond moaning,” Jeremy says, pleased, patting his absorber under the coat. He’ll have to sort the stream soon, to not spend hours and days editing the raw material. “That would’ve made a boring show.”

Noticing Ainnay’s confusion, Jeremy produces the absorber disc from under the layers of his dusty robes. “We have them on us 24/7, basically. Bit difficult to make a comprehensive story out of the uninterrupted stream, but we resolved it by embracing a lot of the randomness. People like it, oddly enough.”

Ainnay just looks more confused. “Hold on. I did not understand a word. What is that thing?”

Hammond turns around from his sulking and his crackers to gape at Ainnay along with Jeremy. “You don’t know what it is?”

Ainnay shrugs. “Should I?”

Jeremy looks at his absorber. “Well, yeah, since it came from your part of the world. It’s black niurite, it absorbs the perception of a person connected to it.”

Still blank, Ainnay reaches for the absorber but thinks better of it. “Could you be more specific, please?”

“It absorbs your perception, things you see, or hear, or smell, or what you feel by touch – it stores it as a stream of uh, sensory experience. People then can duplicate it to their absorbers and tune in. It’s a bit like dreaming,” Jeremy tries to explain, “only it’s not your dreaming and everything is real. Well, you could tune into your own stream, which would be like remembering something, but you know, with full presence in the moment. So what Hammond and I are doing here is making a stream – after editing it’ll be his and mine streams in turn combined into one. There should be also a third-person perspective of our discmen, but since we’ve lost them right after coming here, it’ll be just our points of view, so to speak.”

Ainnay listens with his mouth open. “Whoa,” he manages at last. “That’s amazing!”

Bemused, Jeremy exchanges a glance with Hammond again. “Are you saying you have nothing like that in your lands?”

Still transfixed with the absorber, Ainnay shakes his head. “No. We don’t really know what to do with black niurite – your lot likes it enough to buy it, so we sell it to you. We just thought you use it for jewellery or something else decorative. Can you show me how it works?”

Luckily, Hammond has a spare absorber, so he gives it to Ainnay, tying his scarf around his eyes securely and explaining how to connect to it, which takes Ainnay a while but eventually, he lets out a startled yelp and waives his hands about, reacting to something Hammond has on it.

“Bloody Norah!”

Filing away the unfamiliar curse, Jeremy watches Ainnay go from flaily amazement to the stillness of intent concentration – he always loves to watch kids do it, but a grown man discovering streaming is especially endearing.

[bisexualklausmikaelson]

and all the magic we made (8/?)

a/n: another short update! enjoy!!

-

The sun, in all its ways, surprises Rebekah Mikaelson to no end.

She used to think - the universe revolved around her - all the planets aligning perfectly just to accommodate her utmost desires.

Be it the most expensive jewels, gowns from all over the world, even the hearts of countless men.

Well, every man except the one right in front of her.

"Marcel," she sighs, as he paces towards her while she waits outside Hayley's grocery store. "Is there something you want?" She wonders, tilting her head to one side.

He crosses his arms around his chest, sighing. "You know," he says, "stalking someone is considered a crime," he goes on with - referring to Rebekah's presence in Hayley's workplace.

She rolls her eyes at his constant infatuation with this mere girl - one with not a hint of make-up on her face, with the same old jeans she's had since their high school days, with her greasy hair in a high pony -

"I just wish to speak with her," Rebekah rephrases, biting her bottom lip, "she has my niece hostage, after all," she chuckles.

"She's her mother," Marcel reminds her, "she has a right to keep her away from you."

His words hurt her more than he'll ever know - she doesn't understand why he insists on being so crude to her. What had she done to deserve such distain from him? She wondered.

"Why do fight this hard for her?" Rebekah asks, sounding weak. You never fought this hard for me, she doesn't say but he knows that it's implied.

"Who do you think has been helping her raise Hope, all these years?" He retorts, feeling even more defensive. "If it weren't for me, she would've been all alone."

This feeling - the guilt - Rebekah truly hates it.

"She could've told us, we would've been there for her," she whispers softly. "She kept such a huge secret from me, I thought she was my friend."

And, for a moment, Marcel's clear vision of Hayley Marshall is suddenly clouded. He sees Rebekah, the pitiful girl he has always known.

"She didn't know how to reach you. All the Mikaelsons disappeared after graduation," he recalls, "you didn't even say goodbye to me," he unexpectedly releases.

Just then, Rebekah is quiet.

It takes her too long to realize that she had broken his heart first.

"I'm starting my shift soon," he abruptly tells her, as he rushes out of her way. "Please don't pester Hayley while I'm gone." He begs and he's off.

Rebekah focuses her gaze back on Hayley who is on the other side of the window.

Right, she was here for a reason, after all.

-

(Marcel's words ring in her ears - all the Mikaelsons disappeared after graduation - she wonders how he knows this. He must have tried to contact them, he must have looked around for years.

Rebekah's envious of her brother, at least he's got an easy explanation. His dream of being an artist, his ambition, his passion, his successes.

He left this dingy little town and made something of himself.

While Rebekah just became someone's ghost).

-

Her shift feels a lot longer than usual - Hayley isn't one to complain too much at work, she does as she'd told, clocks in and out on time. Her co-workers are not exactly her close friends but, they're the kind that don't bother her too much and truth be told, she prefers it that way.

She likes to maintain her distance from people.

When she can anyway.

"Oh good," unfortunately, Hayley doesn't have the luxury to choose who she can and cannot keep at bay. Not when the Mikaelsons are involved. "You're finally done," Rebekah sighs, trailing after her.

Hayley continues to walk away, ignoring the blonde until, she grabs her by the hand.

"What do you want now?" Hayley asks.

"My niece," Rebekah insists, squeezing her hand tight. "I am going to meet her, whether you'll allow me to or not," she demands.

Klaus' tone invades Hayley's mind - these two siblings really are way too alike. "You Mikealsons really don't understand what boundaries are, do you?" she comments, jerking her arm back.

Rebekah widens her eyes and tilts her head to one side. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asks and a blush rising to Hayley's cheeks immediately gives her away. "Did something happen with you and Klaus?" Rebekah deducts.

Hayley unexpectedly thinks of the softness of his lips - how warm they were.

"Did he kiss you?" Rebekah suddenly figures out.

Hayley bites down on her tongue. "That," she curses, "Doesn't matter," she tells her.

The other girl takes a step closer, clutching her hand over her chest. This was it - her way in, her way to get closer to the woman before her. She was vulnerable.

"I know this might be difficult to believe but, he has changed - despite everything you might think of him," Rebekah softly says. "Klaus is-"

"I know," Hayley cuts her off mid-sentence. "He's this famous artist now right? He's got fame, fortune, everything he's ever wanted," she continues, smiling.

Rebekah smiles too, she thinks of her brother's countless hours studying and perfecting his work, their father's discouragement, how Klaus overcame it all. "That's right," she nods.

Well, almost everything, she thinks, offering Hayley a curious glance.

"And where do you think that left me?" she finally breathes, sounding hurt. "Stuck in this little town, raising his kid." Hayley reveals.

Rebekah feels a sharp pain in her chest - she had been so blindly loyal to her brother.

She hadn't realized that the girl before her was just so incredibly broken.

"Now how do you think that makes me feel?" Hayley shouts, before bravely walking away from her.

-

(Her daughter is her entire world - her reason for getting out of bed in the morning, her reason for living.

Hope is her everything.

Even though, just now, she sounded like she felt regretful about her decision to keep this child. There was a hint of jealousy in her tone - that Klaus got to go on and have this amazing life without having to worry about raising a kid.

She feels immensely guilty for her anger - for ever thinking that things could've been different).

-

Klaus calls her endlessly -

Yeah, he messed up, big time.

That kiss was - untimely at best.

Maybe a bit tasteless but, he couldn't say that he'd take it back.

After all, he's waited so long to feel her lips against his once again.

He wasn't going to let go of her so easily.

-

That night - Marcel is the one who comes to her doorstep with a box of donuts (sour cream, her favourite) and warm cups of coffee (chocolate milk for Hope, of course).

Hayley leans against her door, letting him in.

He was so reliable, even on her worst days.

"How did you know?" she laughs, taking the cup of coffee from his hand. He follows her inside, setting the food down on the table.

"That you were having a rough day?" Marcel shrugs. "You weren't answering my calls - you only ignore me when you're really upset about something," he tells her - thinking of all the small instances where she had been angry enough to ignore even him.

At times, Marcel had been her lifeline, her most reliable friend.

So when she didn't answer him - it really worried him.

"If you say so," Hayley simply says, failing to realize his amount of care for her.

He's used to it - painfully so. "Well, we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Marcel releases, sounding sad.

He is grateful that just then, Hope runs into the room, like a tornado.

"Uncle Marcel!" she shouts, running towards him and grabbing his leg. "I'm so happy to see you!!" she cheers, happily eyeing the donuts and chocolate milk he brought her.

He smiles, reaching down to pick her up. "Same here, Hope," he says, as her sparkling eyes meet his. God, they really are all he needs to help him feel better about his day. "You want to play some video games together?" He asks, happily.

"Yeah!" Hope nods, leading him towards the living room.

Hayley watches how content they are together and can't help the amount of relief she feels in her heart.

(She'll never truly know how much Marcel actually means to her - that he is indeed, always there for her).

-

[sophie-writings]

Hi! This is the Gala anon, I was wondering if you could do a follow up where bakugou gets a little too tipsy and has to spend the night at Y/N's place? He ends up gushing about how he loves them and cuddling (maybe make out?) ensues. (You did an awesome job with the first one and I saw that someone wanted a part 2!) Thank you!

☁️ Synopsis: After a long night of drinking, will Bakugou finally confess his feelings to his crush? Part 2 to this ☁️ Character: Katsuki Bakugou  ☁️ Type: Scenario. Sfw 17+ ☁️ Warning: Light cursing. Steamy but nothing too wild. Alcohol. ☁️ Note:  This was wayyy to fun to write about! It was supposed to be a small scenario but it turned into a full blown fic!! Hope you like it!

Bakugou gulped hard while you straightened his tie. He was trying his best to look as composed as ever, but having you so close to him always had this effect on him.

Things weren't always like this. Back when you both still attended UA, Bakugou saw you as another classmate, but by the time you were graduating he had actually started to respect you as a hero. He knew you were strong and capable, and that was the only reason he accepted to work alongside you all this time. Not to mention of course, that he also found you incredibly attractive, something he hadn't noticed when you went to high school together — He was far too focused on becoming a pro hero to care about it.

Now that both of you were pro heroes, he actually paid attention to your features. The way your eyes were looking up made his knees weak, and he couldn't help but stare at your lips which, in his defense, looked really kissable.

"Shall we get going?" Your voice was enough to snap him from his trance-like state. Damn, he was going to need a drink if he wanted to get through the night. "Yeah, these paparazzi are starting to really piss me off." He groaned, pulling you close by the waist and guiding you to the main hall.

And while you looked super confident, only God knows how fast your mind was racing at the moment. Bakugou's hand on your waist was driving you insane. "Why is he doing it?" "Does it mean anything?" "Is this just an easier way to pose for pictures without much effort?". These were only some of the millions of questions going through your mind at the moment.

Bakugou led you to the main hall, where all of your old classmates and co-workers were gathered, waiting for the ceremony to start.

"Kacchan, Y/n, is that you?" A familiar voice made you snap your head back, and a familiar face with the biggest and kindest eyes you know made a smile crawl to your lips almost instantly. "It's been a while."

"Izu!" You smiled, now stopping on your tracks, which caused Bakugou to stop as well. "It's been so long! How have you been?"

You and Izuku were really close during high school days. He was basically your best friend during the three years you spent at UA, besides the girls of course. He listened to you ramble on and on about how strong Bakugou was, and he always told you that you just might have a crush on his childhood friend, which you always denied. You couldn't deny it anymore, but it was pleasant to reminisce about the old days.

"I'm sorry, I kind of disappeared didn't I?" He scratches the back oh his head, laughing sheepishly. "I went on a secret mission, and I couldn't tell anybody about it until recently."

"I heard about the operation on the news! I don't even know how I haven't noticed since Bakugou went missing in action for some time as well..." You say, remembering about the recent raid made to a League of Villains hideout. Bakugou was one of the heroes chosen to go, much like Izuku. He didn't tell you a thing about it until you found out yourself.

Speaking of Bakugou — you didn't know, but he was actually silently fuming at the moment. The sudden way your eyes lit up when you saw Izuku made his eyebrow twitch, and he doesn't remember the last time you smiled this brightly when looking at him.

Bakugou snatched a drink from a waiter passing back, chugging it down in a swift movement, trying to drown out the conversation you were having with his childhood friend. He wasn't used to drinking alcohol, even when both of you would go out for drinks, he's stick to water or some juice.

But he wasn't doing that tonight.

By the time you had stopped talking to Izuku, Bakugou had already downed 3 drinks, even though you spent 10 minutes tops chatting with the green-haired hero.

"Woah there, someone's rowdy today." You giggled, grabbing a glass of champagne and taking a sip from it. "Nervous about the awards?"

"As if!" He said, downing another glass in one big gulp and moving to grab another, but you were able to grab his arm before he could. "What are you-"

"I know you can take care of yourself, but you're not used to drinking alcohol, Bakugou." You said, pulling his arm closer to your chest. Bakugou blushed at your actions but looked away before you could notice.  "Take it easy, okay?" You smiled the smile he — oh so adored and he couldn't bring himself to say no to you.

"Whatever." He grumbles, before snatching his arm from your grasp and pulling him closer to him by your waist.

The sudden motion made you slightly lean against his chest, and before you could even process what was happening, Bakugou's face was inches away from your own. His red eyes staring intensely into your own.

"You and Deku seemed pre-" Before he could even finish his sentence, Bakugou was cut off by the announcer's voice.

"Welcome to the annual Hero Gala! I am Present Mic and I'll be your host tonight!"

"Oh! It's starting..." You whisper, trying to focus on anything else but the smell of Bakugou's cologne mixed with alcohol filling your nostrils. Damn, he smelled good. "We should go!"

You grabbed the blond's hand, leading him to the main stage area, and trying your best to brush away the thoughts filling your head.

The rest of the gala went by as smoothly as possible. Izuku, Bakugou, and Todoroki won the main awards of the night and each gave speeches in their own peculiar way. Izuku, shedding some tears, Todoroki thanking everyone BUT his father and Bakugou sprouting some nonsense about beating them all next year.

You and a few others actually won awards as well, each on their own category. You couldn't be happier to be making your family and everyone else proud by taking home an award. Even Bakugou congratulated you on your win, which was rare for him.

After the award show was done, the celebration continued at the after-party. And before you knew, Kaminari and Sero were distributing tequila shots and you had lost sight Bakugou.

"Hey Mina, have you seen Bakugou around?" You asked the pink girl who looked like she had a little too much to drink as well.

"Katsuki? He's over there with the rest of the squad, I think Kaminari wanted him to try some shots."

Ah fuck.

You thanked Mina before speedwalking towards the place she pointed and finding the rest of the Bakusquad trying to hold the explosive man back.

"What's going on?" You snickered at their exasperated expressions. "Why did you think giving shots to Bakugou would be a good idea? You know he never drank this much before." You said.

Bakugou's head snapped towards you, and he finally was able to get away from Sero and Kirishima's grasp, using the opportunity to swing his arms around your body and placing his forehead on your shoulder. Your eyes widened at his actions, but you were too shocked to move, and only looked over at the other guys, who chuckled.

"I'm sorry about that Y/n." Kirishima sighed before pulling his phone out of his pocket. "I'll call for a taxi, is it okay if Bakubro sleeps over at your place? I'd take him home, but I need to take care of the rest of the squad-"

"It's okay Kiri!" You reassured. "Bakugou helped me out a bunch of times when I was the drunk one."

"Thanks, Y/n, you're the best!" He smiles. "The taxi's outside already, please take good care of him."

You nodded at Kirishima before leading Bakugou outside. He was still clinging to you, which got you a few confused stares from strangers and thumbs up from your girlfriends. Even Izuku blushed before mouthing a "use protection" to you, to which you responded by violently shaking your head in hopes he realized he got it all wrong.

The car ride was silent, as Bakugou seemed to be in a bad mood, probably because he had to go home early.

You sighed in relief as the taxi pulled over next to your complex and you helped Bakugou out of the taxi and into your condo, which was at the top of the building.

"You can have the bed, I'll sleep on the couch tonight." You whispered, helping him sit on your bed. "I'll get some fresh air and then I'll come to check on you, okay? Call me if you need anything." You got out of your room and walked to the balcony, staring at the city below.

You weren't able to confess your feelings to Bakugou tonight. Not that you didn't have the chance, you just chickened out every time he got dangerously close you. Well, it wasn't your fault he was so attractive that every time he looked at you with his red eyes you could feel your heartbeat race and your knees turn into jelly.

Being his friend was easy, and even though you wanted more, the chance of ruining the friendship you had built after so much effort was too great to ignore.

"What are you doing here all alone." Bakugou's rough voice made you jump a little. You hadn't noticed his presence since you were so deep in thought.

He got closer to you, and you could smell his cologne again. "Thinking about Deku again?" He muttered.

"Uh?" You were genuinely confused. Did Bakugou misunderstand your relationship with Izuku?

"I noticed the way your face lit up when you saw him, you ain't slick." He continued, bringing his face so close to yours, your noses were almost touching. "You like him, don't you?"

"Uh, no, that's weird." You managed to say. "Izu's my best friend, he's like a brother to me."

Bakugou tilted his head to the side in confusion. "And why did you smile at him like that back at the gala?"

"I  haven't talked to him in forever!" You said more confidently this time. "I just missed Izu."

"And why do you call him Izu, yet you keep using my last name?" Bakugou blurted out, causing you to widen your eyes at his sudden outburst. "We're close, aren't we? Yet you keep calling me Bakugou!"

"Wait, wha-"

"Fuck, I wish I didn't find you so damn attractive to the point I couldn't focus the whole night. I hate the fact your lips look as if they're begging for me to kiss them. I hate the way you call Deku by his own nickname..." He rambled.

"Bakugou..."

"There you go again." He brought one of his hands to your cheek. "I fucking hate that I like you and you haven't noticed it yet! I'm right here, dammit." Bakugou said, bringing his face closer to yours. He hesitated for a second, but you got on your tiptoes, finally connecting your lips. Using his free hand, the strong man pulled you closer by your waist, giving it a little squeeze, and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

The kiss started off slow, but it rapidly got hungrier, as Bakugou sucked on your lower lip and squeezed your waist once again, making you gasp. He used this opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, causing you to moan into the kiss.

His large hands went down your waist and using his strength, Bakugou held you up by the back of your tights, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, never breaking the kiss.

Bakugou carried you back to your room and sat down on your bed, you know straddling his lap.

Your arms leave Bakugou's neck and cup his face finally breaking the kiss, and you stared lovingly into his eyes which shined brighter than you've ever seen before.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting to do this." You whisper, resting your forehead on his.

"You should've told me sooner, I've also been waiting to do this for some time now." He answers, his hands still on your thighs, caressing them tenderly.

"Well, you're kinda hard to read Katsu." You giggled. "How would I know you were interested in me if all you did was frown?"

"Call me that again." He whispered, completely ignoring the rest of your sentence.

"Uh, Katsu?"

"Again."

"Katsu."

"Hell yeah, I'm Katsu." He grabbed you by the neck, pulling into a kiss once again.

He was definitely still tipsy and he knew that. There's no way the Bakugou Katsuki would let someone call him Katsu without him complaining, even though it was you, and he loved to sound of it.

But he'd leave that to "next morning Bakugou". Now he was more focused on how to find your zipper using one hand only.

[musinglymuse]

This recommendation list focuses on the main pairing, the hottest couple in Check Please: Eric “Bitty” Bittle and Jack Zimmerman or more affectionately known as Zimbits. They’ve come a long way since the beginning of Check Please!

I’ve compiled some of what I consider excellent fanfics that feature this couple although it does not contain all of my recommendations. They are in no particular order. I plan on creating more recommendation lists down the line, especially for other pairings in this fandom.

As a reminder, please make sure to check the tags and any warnings before reading. Take care of yourself!

Hold It All At Bay by psocoptera Psychic Bond AU // ~50k // R

The theory of extrapolative synchronization of the mirror neurons was debunked back when he was still in his teens, so Jack is reluctant to mention that he can smell Bitty's pies baking from across campus.

Easy P-Z by ebjameston HGTV AU // ~21k // PG-13

Jack and Kent are the ridiculously handsome house-renovating married retired hockey players that’ve been making HGTV an absolutely stupid amount of money with their new show.

And Eric Bittle just got hired to be their show’s caterer.

Eric Bittle, NBC 10 by foryouandbits Journalist AU // ~82k // NC-17

In 2009, Jack Zimmermann was drafted 2nd overall to the Providence Falconers. After a tumultuous first season in the minors, Jack returns to the NHL and is named captain within a year. Known to the media as the "hockey robot," no one seems to be able to break through the polite barrier that Jack has built — no one until Eric Bittle, newest intern at NBC 10. Bitty, interning as a requirement for his journalism degree at nearby Samwell University, forms an instant connection with Jack. Throughout the rest of the season, and the rest of Bitty's junior year at Samwell, the two grow closer while learning how to both trust each other and succeed in their respective careers.

What I want to feel, I want to feel it now by RabbitRunnah Bakery AU // ~28k // PG-13

Eric Bittle knows the way his life is supposed to go: According to an old family curse, the love of his life will take one bite of his famous apple pie and fall madly in love with him. And they'll live happily ever after.

There's only one problem: Jack Zimmermann doesn't like pie.

Back to You by PorcupineGirl Canon Divergence // ~15k // PG-13

When Jack kissed him at graduation over a year and a half ago, Eric had been too shocked to really think about what it might mean, long-term. They'd talked constantly over the next six weeks, enough for him to feel confident that Jack felt the same way he did, and to start to imagine what those far-off futures might look like together.

And then Jack came to Madison for the Fourth of July, and Eric made the stupidest mistake of his life: He let himself and Jack talk themselves out of it.

he will take you by hockeydyke Camp Counselor AU // ~55k // PG-13

Jack Zimmermann has been a part of Camp Samwell for the majority of his life-- first as a camper when his parents spent summers in nearby at a lake house in scenic upstate New York, then as a counselor, and now as the program director of the entire camp. The problem now is that the camp is attracting bad luck left and right, and they’re losing campers and staff at an alarming rate. Enter Eric Bittle, Jack’s new co-director. He’s young, enthusiastic, and maybe he’ll have what it takes to get the situation turned around.

Unfortunately, something powerful is in control of Camp Samwell, and it wants Bitty to get out.

<lj-cut text="you see who I am and what I did"> by tomato_greens Rock Band AU // ~11k // PG-13

Rolling Stone

No Jack Zimmermann Is An Island by Jennifer S. Harada

After avoiding me for a week, Jack Zimmermann calls to ask me to meet him at a bakery. Or maybe a diner; he’s not sure what to call it. A brunch place, although they make great pies, too.

“Sure,” I say, “whatever you want, Mr. Zimmermann.”

“Jack,” says Zimmermann. His voice is higher than I expect it to be, and his Québécois accent more pronounced. “I’ll see you there.”

someone to count on (and other cheesy idioms about finding your soulmate) by heyfightme & omgpieplease Soulmate AU // ~9k // PG-13

Eric’s counter reads 1. That’s all. Just 1. He’s eighteen years old, has not left the state of Georgia in his entire life, and his counter reads 1.

He has spent many mindless afternoons and worn out many pens in tracing it over into a 0. If the counter did read 0, the morning wouldn’t be looming like the black rainclouds that Mama used to call “omens.”

Eric is leaving for college in the morning. When he passes the state line from Georgia to North Carolina in the passenger seat of his Mama’s sedan, he’ll also be passing the last chance he has for the counter to make it to 2.

Calendar Boy by darter_blue Canon Divergence // ~15k // R

It was supposed to be totally innocent. A friend of Lardo’s was putting together a little project, compiling a calendar of some of the openly gay athletes on campus, fundraising for the LGBTQ+ community outreach programs at Samwell.

Bitty hadn't really even been reluctant. Excited about the prospect of a fun photo shoot and a chance to dress up a bit, do something glamorous.

And he thinks it's a great photo (if not a bit more revealing than what he was expecting…). And when the calendar comes out it’s nerve racking but exciting. Until one by one the team finds a copy (Jack may be hiding one under his mattress), and then it's pandemonium.

is it too late now to say sorry by magneticwave AU // ~5K // PG-13

I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS, Eric types furiously into Twitter. THIS IS LIKE RENAMING LAKE WOEBEGONE “LAKE SCOTT WALKER.” // Or, the only person in the entirety of Canada who is upset about Jack Zimmermann’s first Stanley Cup is Eric Bittle, and by God is every single one of Eric’s 160,000 Twitter followers going to hear about it.

I Can Feel the Storm Inside You by Effyeahzimbits AU // ~15k // NC-17

Life is going good for Eric Bittle. It's summer, he has an exciting new job with the Providence Falconers, he's in a club celebrating with his friends, and he currently has a Canadian Adonis grinding up against his ass. Life is good.

Until said Canadian Adonis flees the morning after some mind-blowing sex, leaving behind a rubbish note. Bitty tries hard to forget about him and his huge, pert ass and focus on his new job, but then Canadian Adonis and the Falc's grumpy, anti-social captain turn out to be one and the same. And Bitty really couldn't forget about that huge, pert ass.

three words that became hard to say by the_one_that_fell Canon Divergence // Series // ~35k // R

Ten years after Samwell, Eric Bittle and Jack Zimmermann find each other again.

Flight Check by edgarallanrose Flight Attendant AU // ~15k // NC-17

Flight attendant Eric “Bitty” Bittle has been working his way up at Samwell Airlines for the past four years, and his new promotion has provided him the opportunity to work with a brand-new crew. Unfortunately for Bitty, that crew includes an incredibly handsome but equally grumpy pilot, Captain Jack Zimmermann, who seems to want nothing to do with Bitty. Even worse, Jack refuses to eat any of Bitty's baked goods. Will Bitty be able to win the captain over? Or is there another reason Jack has been avoiding Bitty?

Bits of Heaven by WrathoftheStag Older / Bakery AU // ~22k // R

At age 44, NHL legend, Jack Zimmermann, knows three things for sure: retirement is boring, love is probably not in the cards for him, and his aging father makes a pretty good roommate. When the bakery "Bits of Heaven" opens up down the street, Jack finds that a happily ever after is possible—even late in the game.

A Tolerance for Pain by uniqueinalltheworld Soulmate AU // ~3k // R

It makes sense, his mother tells him when he's nine: Jack's such a physical person, of course his indicator would be his soulmate's pain. Jack doesn't have anything to say about it, really, he just scowls and winces as his soulmate falls down again. Alicia Zimmermann, whose heterochromia reversed itself upon laying eyes on Bob for the first time, because she’s more passionate about visual media, pats him on the shoulder with a completely insufficient amount of sympathy. Jack's backside is sore for months as the falls keep happening, and he can only think that somewhere, his soulmate must be learning how to skate.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Scream Queens Ep 4 "Haunted House" (Note: Offensive content, use at own discretion)

A girl died in this tub.

There's no record of any of these names except for one.

Oh, my god, there's two of them!

I own Halloween. It's my jam.

Halloween is the most important day of the year. It's the one day on the Gregorian calendar where you're allowed to go around terrifying children and not be branded a psychopath.

I am a future network news anchor who's super classy and has almost no fat on her body.

A lot of my fans are, like, friendless dumpy coeds at this or that nursing school in one of this country's various national armpits.

They put down their hot pockets and bask in the warm glow of what it feels like to love me.

I went shopping with my comatose grandmother's credit card and bought presents.

Oh, my god, it says my name!

I hope the severed leg brightens up your trailer park.

You're a bright light in my life, and I wanted you to know how much you impress me with your frumpy spirit.

You are so devastatingly mediocre and adorable!

I can't wait to see you in person, but before that, I'd like to see you post this all over social media, to exploit it for my own gain.

Aah! It's a rotting jack-o'-lantern!

Aah! This box is just filled with blood!

She got me a razor apple!

I stole this cadaver head from an ophthalmology student just for you.

You're the most important person in the world.

So you didn't see anyone in a red devil costume entering or leaving the house?

Are you coming to the precinct pig roast this year?

Come on, she's obviously the killer!

Do you mean to suggest I changed out of my nightgown, strapped myself into a skintight pleather red devil costume, climbed out a second-story dormer, and shimmied to the ground with a chain saw before entering a window I had left open, tried to kill you, then leapt out the window, climbed back up the wall, changed back into my nightgown,

and raced downstairs, all in the course of about 90 seconds?

Clearly that's got you a little freaked out.

I'm not gonna hold any of this against you, and I'm gonna let you be my date for the faculty Halloween party.

Attempted murder!

A guy was almost killed tonight, okay?

Now, no, I'm not a detective, hell, I ain't even a cop, but what I am is somebody who watched every one of those Cosby mysteries, okay?

See? Dismemberment!

I am so sorry that I pushed you out of my car and drove off real scared.

I just can't believe that How To Lose A Guy In 10 days is your favorite movie, too.

In precisely two and half minutes when we go in there, you let me do all the talking.

What are you dressed as?

Oh, you have a squirrel. Don't see that much anymore.

Breakfast is almost ready, we got meat today.

What can you tell us about that night?

Now, we will keep your name out of it, of course.

'm a vault,

And to get in this vault you need a key. Now, you may ask, a key to what? It's a key to meaning. Once you've found the meaning, you don't need the words. You know what I'm saying?

Please, continue with your story.

Have any of you ever heard of "negligent homicide"?

We need to dispose of this body on our own. Now, I've got everything we need in the kitchen to make sausages out of her.

I'm gonna go downstairs, shut this party down, and then we'll get the body out of here.

Somebody has to watch after the baby.

Can you at least turn on the radio?

Just leave the details to me.

We can't just act like this never happened.

She's the devil, that one.

I looked at that baby up close. I know my peas and carrots. That baby was a girl.

Your support doesn't matter.

My campaign needs a theme?

My pumpkin's drunk.

I'm hosting a haunted house to raise money for sickle cell anemia.

Why are you holding a fund-raiser, though?

I don't think you understand the magnitude of the miscalculation you just made.

I can assure you you will not be winning an election anytime soon. And when you lose, I am gonna make it my lifelong passion to destroy your reputation.

You're a stuck-up little sociopath, and everybody in this room knows it.

It might behoove you to recall that everyone here witnessed you actually murder someone

Just sharpening knives.

Put the knives down.

I don't know what came over me.

How very adolescent of you to think of this.

It vaguely smacks of something my six-year-old sister would be excited about.

It's the most disgusting disease in the history of mankind.

You get it when you don't even understand the most basic tenets of oral hygiene.

Just give the dang thing its pot of gold already!

I ain't got no candy!

Bet you're a sexy dirt-covered girl. That's what I bet you are.

Sometimes I come out here and I just rub my hands on the gravestones.

I get you more than anyone.

I also find the thought of dead bodies extremely arousing.

I just don't understand why I have all these dark feelings.

You know, I just think our generation's had it too easy, you know? We haven't seen enough horrible stuff. There's no awesome diseases randomly killing people. There's not really any awesome wars to go off to and witness horrific things you can't unsee. We, like, pulled out of all of 'em.

Sometimes I just don't even feel like I'm living, you know?

The only time I feel anything is when I'm thinking about chopping up a body.

And here you are, saddled up with an uptight girlfriend who freaked out for no other reason than the fact that you just wanted to fantasize about having sex with her lifeless corpse.

Oh, my god, I got a total chub right now.

Not scary enough.

She'll let you in the back door.

What could be scarier for an adult than a child coming to murder them?

Isn't that all of our greatest fear? That the pain, the regrets, the mistakes of our youth will destroy us in our adulthood? That we can't escape our inner child. One we would rather forget, but who, at the end of the day has all the power.

Why are you lying to me?

Something does not make sense.

You got to give me more here, okay?

I don't understand what you're getting at.

Are you on bath salts?

Why are we even here?

This house is haunted.

There's a legend in this neighborhood about a woman who wailed about her dead children. And this was the house she lived in.

These dumb ol' kids are smoking crack.

I think it's incredible what you can find out with just a quick trip down to your local library.

This can be one of the rooms for the haunted house.

What exactly do you plan on doing at this haunted house?

I was thinking we could blindfold folks and make 'em put their hands in a bowl full of grapes we peeled, so it'll feel like eyeballs.

I think the reason you want to have a haunted house party is 'cause a haunted party is like a buffet for murderers.

Yeah, yeah, you can just go around killing anybody you want and ain't nobody even gonna even notice.

Just like you chopped the arms off that dumb-ass golf guy.

Why do you have it out for me?

So now you look at me and see everything you could've been.

I hope you have a good time at you haunted party and get to murder lots of folks.

You have this way too thought out.

Isn't this kind of nice?

My sense of personal identity is completely external.

I really don't have much to offer.

I've found that my particular style of speaking and gesticulation is extremely off-putting to most boys. And girls. And anyone.

I need to eat. My blood sugar is crashing.

I'm tired of depriving myself of joy and sustenance.

I may die at the end of a serial killer's blade, but I refuse to die hungry.

Which one of you ladies would like to be my costume for Halloween? I'm going as "dude having awesome sex with you."

I mean, what in the hell's wrong with the world where a guy can't even whistle at a chick just to tell her she looks hot?

I recently took a women's studies class. Yes, because it was a requirement, but I learned a lot anyways. Like the culture that says it's okay for a man to objectify a woman for her appearance is the same culture that pressures girls as young as ten to have eating disorders.

So you're basically saying I'm the one responsible for making you look hot?

When you treat us like meat, you're no better than him!

I'm not really sure how you got my number, but I like how you took the initiative and texted me where you wanted us to meet.

Do you think you're man enough to take me inside that house and attack my crack?

I'll sure this house has an amazingly romantic basement.

Hey, so, uh, a little awkward since we're about to bone down and everything, but, um, what's your name?

Smells like roadkill.

I've never been so scared in my whole life.

All right, if we go to the police, they're gonna see I'm still rocking a mad sidepipe, and they're gonna think I had something to do with it.

We have to warn people.

All right, everybody listen up! All of your lives are in danger!

There are dead bodies! Dead bodies. Real-life dead bodies.

Did you say dead bodies?

Those are like the most lifelike dead bodies I've ever seen.

Is that a real dead body?

There are five dead bodies in that house. Laid out in horrible and deliberate macabre poses.

You are not leaving this house tonight.

You make it harder and harder to believe that you're not the killer.

I found out something really interesting, and now I have a theory.

Everything is weird about that story.

I mean, it's too big a coincidence.

We have to figure out who that woman was.

[myraelvira]

Where Is Robert Sands?

Robert Lewis (or Louis) Sands was born sometime around 1926. He is described as having been around 5’8” to 5’10” and anywhere from 150 to 200 pounds. He had brown hair, though his eye color and other details are not listed on his profile on namus. His case is the oldest one listed in the state of Tennessee on the website.

Robert went missing around August 24th, 1960 from Friendship, Tennessee. At the time, he was 34 years old. On namus,  the date of last known contact is stated as also being unknown, so it seems that the August 24th date is more approximate than accurate. It also states that his mother lost contact with him in the early 60’s. There are not any comparisons to his case on namus.

The circumstances of his disappearance are unknown. A google search for any information on him is even harder. The only real post I came across on the internet about him, was a facebook post by  the ‘Tennessee Missing and Unsolved’, which went a bit more into his background.

It states:

“Robert Sands is the oldest missing person's case listed on Namus for the state of Tennessee.

Some of you may recall that we shared his story on here in October, 2017. That post stayed pretty quiet until August 2018, when we were contacted by a lady saying that she was looking for her Grandfather by the same name and similar timeline.

After comparing pictures and birth certificates of both Daughters, it was determined that these two women were without a doubt looking for the same man. Neither of them knew a whole lot about Robert as he had left both of them while they were very young and neither were left with anyone to really tell them much about him.

It was decided that both of these sweet Ladies would do Ancestry DNA in hopes of finding more family members that could help provide answers as to what happened to their Father. The results shocked us all! We learned that their DNA did not match. They both went on to find that neither of them was biological daughters of Robert Sands.

Yes, Robert Sands was married to both of their Mothers and not only was he listed on both birth certificates, they both have pictures of Robert Sands.

Unfortunately, this also means that the DNA namus has on file for Mr. Robert Sands is not accurate. Yes, the case manager has now been notified.

Though his Daughters are not biological children of his, they both wish to learn about who he was and what happened to him. He was the only daddy either knew.

We have learned a few details about his life prior to his disappearance, I am hoping that something here will "ring a bell" with someone that may have known him.

Robert Sands had lived in Utah where he was married to Karen Sands, their daughter was born in 1956. Robert and Karen separated, that is when Robert left Utah for good. Their Daughter's birth certificate has his name spelled "Robert Louis Sands". According to the information he provided, he was born in Los Angeles, California. His age is listed as 29 years old, and his profession on there was listed as a cook. Karen Sands was later murdered in Salt Lake City, Utah while she was 8 months pregnant by her boyfriend. Nobody knows if Robert ever received the news of Karen's death as he never returned for his daughter.

In 1957 Robert Sands married Lavenia Sue Weeks, their daughter was born in 1958 at St. Mary's hospital for women, in Madison, Wisconsin. When they separated Lavenia later moved to TN with their daughter. The daughter does recall Robert coming to visit and her Mother acting as if she was fearful that Robert would take her away. The last visit the daughter remembers ended with her being sent to her room while Robert and Lavenia had what seemed to her as a serious conversation. The last visit would have occurred in the early 60's, the daughter never saw Robert again. Lavenia eventually made a post in the newspaper that ran around 6 weeks so that she could obtain a divorce from Robert Sands. This same Daughter continued to ask questions and look for her father for years. Her Maternal Grandmother told her that her daddy always loved her very much. Lavenia was not supportive of the Daughter's search for answers but she never told her that Robert was not her Father. Lavenia did once tell their daughter that Robert Sands was not his real name, she said that she could not recall his real name because it was very hard to pronounce, whether this is true or not is unknown.

The Daughter of Lavenia and Robert would go on searching for answers. She contacted the Crockett Co Sheriff's Office in TN, to have him officially reported missing. Robert was entered into Namus and a DNA sample from this daughter was collected. The Crockett County Sheriff's Office told her this year that Robert was never officially entered as missing. She also went to the Social Security Office in hopes of finding information, they wouldn't give her much to go on but they did say that his social had not been used for work since the 60's.

The known places of work for Robert Sands are as follows. "The Hoffman Brothers" which was either located in Madison Wisconsin or Rockford Illinois. "The Madison Club" located in Madison Wisconsin, which is where the picture in the chef hat with the cake was took. "The Holiday Inn" in Memphis, TN.

Over the years many thoughts have come to mind.

Could Robert Sands have had ties to the Mob? A daughter recalls a vague memory of being told that their phone was tapped among other things. The other daughter says her Grandmother referred to him as a horse thief.

Could Robert Sands have been in service? The daughter was told that he was going blind from a war injury. It is unknown if this was just an answer given by her Grandmother to help ease her after his disappearance.

Did he know neither Daughter was biologically his? They both have pictures of them holding them and appearing to be a happy Father but one does have to question the chances of the same man unknowingly marrying two pregnant women within such a short period of time.

The only thing certain at this point is that both Daughters still want answers about Robert's identity and disappearance.

Can you help solve this mystery? If you have any knowledge of Robert Sands, please reach out and let us know.

We can be contacted here Tennessee Missing and Unsolved. You may also reach us by email at TennesseeMissingandUnsolved@gmail.com. If you prefer to call or text we are available anytime at 615-556-0534. “

Beyond that, there is next to no information on Robert Sands.  I did my own investigating, and at first didn’t seem to come across anything. I looked on family search for any sort of census records, but I wasn’t sure if all of the people named ‘Robert Sands’ that popped up were him. So I went over to my favorite website, Find a Grave. There, I looked up people named Robert Sands, and came across over 300 results. Having read the facebook post, I thought about how his social security number hadn’t been used since the 60’s. So I checked for every Robert Sands that would have died in America, sometime in the 60’s, and really only had a few results. Even still, I was unsure.

The facebook post had three interesting points that I wanted to search upon. First, was the fact that he potentially had a war injury, as one of the girls’ grandmother stated that he was going blind. This may have actually been true, because if Robert had been 34 years old at the time of his disappearance, then he would have been born in 1926. If this was true, then that would mean he very likely fought in WWII. Having had grandparents born in that 20’s that fought in the war, it doesn’t seem unlikely at all.

The second point that I wanted to look into, was the fact that his name, or rather his real name, was described as having been hard to pronounce. One of the things that I thought of when first reading the case, was that perhaps he changed his name. Perhaps, “Robert Sands” was an Americanized version of some sort of European name. I once again speak from experience, having had ancestors that changed their Polish last name to something way more easy to pronounce. I figured perhaps he had a very Slavic or even Italian name.

Third, I wanted to look up any sort of information on his first wife that died. The post on facebook stated that Karen Sands died not long after her relationship with Robert. I was curious if there was any information or news articles on her supposed murder.

While doing my investigating, I wanted to leave no stone unturned, of course. I wanted to look up as many “Robert Sand”s from that time period as I could. Just to make sure that he did or did not keep that name for the rest of his life. I was assuming that any public information about him, would of course be from before the 60’s, probably from the 40’s at best since the US Census doesn’t release census records until over 70 years later (which is incredibly unhelpful for missing persons cases).

While looking on family search, I came across a “Robert Clyde Sands” that had allegedly died in 1964. He was buried in Lynnville, TN, at the Lynnville Cemetery. The little snippet stated that he was born on October 2nd, 1926 and had died on June 2nd, 1964. The small bio stated that there was information listed about this person on find a grave, though when I clicked the link, it stated that the profile had been deleted. I am unsure why, and not sure if maybe this was even a real person.

I then searched for any Robert that would have died between 1960-1969, seeing that his social security number hadn’t been used since the 60’s. There was a listing for a Robert Sands that passed away in a California death index, though it doesn’t state how he died. Just that it was on September 25th, 1965. It is unknown how old this Robert was either. There was a similar California listing with a Robert Sands that died on December 10th, 1964. There were multiple Robert Sands that died in the 60’s, though I didn’t always get a birth year. It is hard to delineate who was who because one person could have been 25, and another 55.

When I looked on find a grave, I came across two Robert Sands that died in the 60’s, who I thought were of interest. One was Robert Sands that passed away on September 25th, 1965. I assume this must be the same Robert that was listed in that California death index. Robert was born in 1919 though, so the age doesn’t really match up. He was a corporal in the military, during WWII, and had been married to a woman named Virginia Sands, who has also passed away. Even though close, because of the military affiliation, I didn’t think he was it.

The second Robert Sands on find a grave was one born on April 28th, 1924. He died at the age of 38 on November 25th, 1962. This Robert was buried in Athens County Memory Gardens in Ohio. He also served in the military during WWII, and was a Tec 4 (a now defunct rank) in the 216 Medical Battalion. Even though this Robert has his parents and a child linked to his find a grave profile, there is no spouse listed. I am unsure if this would be the right Robert.

I looked up Robert's first wife, Karen Sands on find a grave. She was one of the first results to pop up.   Karen had been born on December 20th, 1933 in Salt Late City, Utah. She died on March 11th, 1959 in Marray, Utah, from shock and internal hemorrhage during childbirth. Unlike the facebook post that stated she was murdered for some reason, Karen died in the hospital, and the child was stillborn. He was buried with Karen in the same coffin.

Interestingly, Karen’s bio on find a grave lists Robert Sands as having been her husband. And in quotations next to his name, it states (aka Louis Rogato).

Taking this lead, I typed in ‘Louis Rogato’ into find a grave. There was only 1 entry. The man named Louis J. Rogato was born on July 1st, 1926. He died on January 2nd, 2017 at the age of 90. He is buried at Delano Cemetery in Delano, Minnesota. There are no relatives listed in his profile. No description in his bio. The one and only picture of his grave states that he was in the Army during WWII.

I went back to family search, and tried to find anything with the Louis Rogato name. When I entered in the birth year of 1926, almost all of the results seemed to be of the same person. There was information about his military history, that stated he had been born in Alabama, completed 4 years of high school, was a private first class in the army, and served in the medical department. The ‘event place’ happened in Ft. Lewis, Washington, and he was enlisted for the ‘Hawaiian Department’. Interestingly, this record also states that he was married at the time. This marriage is what I assume to be to a person named ‘Billie Louise Keller’, where it is stated that they got married on December 2nd, 1944. At some point, the two divorced, as Billie’s family tree shows another husband, and Louis Rogato’s shows more wives in his records.

In the marriage license to Billie, it states that both the bride and groom were 20 years old, in 1944. So Louis’ birth date would really be 1924. The certificate also stated that his father was from Italy, which confirms the Italian last name, which may have been hard to pronounce for some people back then. If he wasn’t lying back then too.

Louis Rogato married multiple times, with a divorce record from November 2nd, 1970 stating that he had split up with his ex wife Arlene R Lindstrom. Arlene seemed to be quite younger than him, as she was born in 1940, and 30 at the time of the divorce, while Louis was 44 years old. Unfortunately, this record does not state when the marriage initially took place and how long it lasted.

There is another marriage record that states that Louis married a woman named Pearl Marie Brown in 1948, in Thurston, Washington. The marriage is dated as January 17th, 1948. It is unknown how long this marriage lasted, and when it ended in divorce.

One divorce in particular that I find perplexing, is one from January 12th, 1971. This records states that Louis had been married to a Rosemarie Sands, who had been born in 1933. Even though his age is estimated to have been 41 at the time, I think that this is a piece of information that we can’t ignore. If this woman was named “Rosemarie Sands”, perhaps this is the ‘Robert Sands’ that we’re looking for? Now, a similar record states that Rosemarie Sands died on March 1st, 2001. But when I searched for her on find a grave, I couldn’t find her. I’m unsure if she took another name later on in life.

According to records, on July 2nd, 1971, Louis got married to a Suzanne M Weiland. She was 24 years old at the time, having been born in 1947. This would have made him about 45. The two were married in Ramsey, Minnesota.

Beyond this, there is no other information that I can find about Robert Sands or Louis Rogato. Personally, I think that these two people were the same person, even more so that despite Rogato’s death in 2017, there is no obituary for him. At least, no one that I can find online. His multiple marriages as Louis Rogato alone reminds me a lot of Donald Lee Laisure. I’m not sure why some people turn into serial daters, but Rogato was one of them. What is most interesting and slightly disturbing to me, is how Rogato would constantly get married to girls a lot younger than him.

Karen and Rosemarie Sands were born in 1933. This would have made Robert/Rogato 7 years older than them. Arlene Lindstrom was born in 1940. Rogato would have been 14 years older than her. Suzanne was born in 1947. Rogato was 21 years older than her.

Despite all of the marriage information, and even proof of death through his find a grave, there is not one picture of Louis Rogato. There is no obituary. This prompts me to think that he was a person that did not want to be found. It might sound crazy that an elderly person at the ago of 90 was still potentially avoiding people. But you never know. There is so much that we don’t know, that we can only leave things up to speculation.

If Robert Sands was Louis Rogato, then why did he leave his children behind? What prompted him to get married to two women that didn’t even have his children? Though anecdotal, I think a part of it was because of our culture at the time. It was extremely bad for a woman to have a child out of wedlock. I don’t know anything about Karen Sands’ character, and I don’t want to detract from it. But maybe she got pregnant by another man and married Robert to essentially save face. According to her obituary, she was a mormon, which are well known for strict traditional practices. As to why both daughters had the surname by him, if I understand correctly, during the midcentury when a woman married another man, the children would take the last name of the step father. I am only speaking from what I have read, and an example of this would actually be Joe Walsh of the Eagles, whose mother did the same thing after his biological father passed away.

Some people might be wondering what Robert Sands was running from. What did he leave for? Well, if he was really Louis Rogato, perhaps he got bored. It seems that he constantly went from relationship to relationship, and couldn’t ever settle down. Perhaps he had a few children along the way, and might have went back to using his original name of Louis Rogato, so that he could avoid child support. I don’t know. This is all speculation.

I didn’t think that this missing persons case would turn into something like this. I really thought that it would just be something short and an unfortunate low information mystery. But the more I researched it, the more it reminded me of my own grandfather. Who was never in my life, and just about non existent in my dad’s. A person that is still alive to this day, even though elderly, but refuses to contact any of his family. But this is detracting from the main point at hand.

At the end of the day, we don’t know what happened to Robert Sands. And we’ll never know. We’ll never know the true story. Many of the people that would remember him are not here today. If Robert really was this Louis Rogato from Minnesota, he seemed to have done a very good job at making himself unknown. Even if they aren’t the same people, I can’t help but wonder why Louis Rogato lived his life that way. It’s even more curious to me that a person could live to 90, and not even have an obituary about it. No family, no friends to at least say something about it online.

Robert seemed to be like some sort of drifter. Nobody seems to know where they were going, and nobody knows where Robert went.

[POST SCRIPT]

I decided to look for the graves of Louis Rogato's father, who is named as "Russell Rogato" on the marriage license to Billie from 1944. It seems that Russell does have a profile on find a grave, though his spouse is not linked. I am unsure of where Louis' mother may be buried. If this is the right Rogato, perhaps the only way to check if he and Louis Rogato from Minnesota are related would be exhuming the bodies. Not that I advocate for this, since I know nothing about either of these people, and their potential living family members today. It is simply just an idea.

While editing my video, it also clicked that Robert Sands' middle name was Louis. Perhaps an homage to his legal name of Louis Rogato? It seems all too likely that these people have similar names.

[SOURCES]

https://www.namus.gov/MissingPersons/Case#/17201?nav

https://www.crimewatchers.net/threads/robert-lewis-sands-missing-from-friendship-tn-24-aug-1960-age-34.998/

https://www.facebook.com/TNMissingUnsolved/posts/1761834383923310

http://files.usgwarchives.net/ca/nevada/military/ww2/enlistment/armyenli110gmt.txt