#if this is not quite addressing your question feel free to clarify

[worldofgoo]

How do I stop being a Hater like you it’s bad for my mental health

good question... hm... idk why it happened exactly so the easiest answer would be to just be me but that is not very useful to other people

probably a really big factor is just removing myself from things that make me angry. in my case thats mostly discourse since that was the main thing that pissed me off (and kind of made me doubtful about human nature in general tbh), but that did include also just not being around things that irritated me or didnt interest me either. its probably why i dont follow or follow back many people now, even though im sure most of them are very normal and nice, just kinda curating my surroundings ig

if irl is also exacerbating Hater Tendencies, or its things online that you can't necessarily avoid, I feel like the other side is to just try to understand the thing or people you're being a Hater about, and why some people like it or think the way they do even if its baffling to you. since there's some things you just can't change, or aren't worth the energy to change

[minkdelovely]

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter four

“take what you want.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: blood, flies, poisoning, mentions of nausea, descriptions of: violence ; cannibalism. ; suffocation ; and murder, kinda angsty?, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 3.4k

author’s note: just a quick little note here for something i felt the need to clarify. there’s a moment that would have been perfect for alastor’s microphone but i am working under the fact that it’s still broken, which (to me) carries too much significance for his character and i don’t know how to magically fix it for him 🥲 i just realized i haven’t explicitly addressed why it hasn’t been mentioned at all and wanted to explain myself lol

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Seeing the distress on your face, Angel put a hand on your shoulder and tried to do damage control. “Whoa, babe, it’s okay! It’s probably just a coincidence — forget I said anything, all right? It was a gag!” 

You had been doing so well at keeping Donny from your mind today, but you could feel the panic welling up again. As the blood drained from your face, your mind raced with questions. How did Angel know it was Donny that you had attacked yesterday? How did they know each other — through work? Was someone looking for whoever had been responsible for it? What would happen if they found out it was you?

He peered over you and gave Alastor a nervous look. If you were shrinking against the static you felt building behind you, you didn’t even want to know what his face was looking like right now. But the thought of Angel being in Alastor’s line of fire was worse.

“But that was his name,” you said, giving them each a quick look. “Or at least that’s what I heard his friend call him.”

“Perhaps the elevator isn’t the best place for this,” Alastor said cooly, stepping forward to push the button that re-started your descent. He pivoted to face you and Angel and you felt admonished under his gaze. “Sylvie and I are on our way out, but if you’re free this evening Angel, we can discuss this more in private. I have some questions of my own.”

“It’s a date, Smiles,” Angel cooed, happy to diffuse the tension, and you felt yourself relax when he gave your shoulder a little squeeze. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you’d invite me up to your room.”

Alastor’s smile strained as his gaze wandered from Angel to you, leering. “Who said anything about my room?” 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The walk into the city had been quiet, the tension from the elevator ride not yet fully gone. You knew Alastor’s good mood from yesterday wouldn’t last forever, but nothing could have prepared you for Angel’s ambush. How were you just supposed to sit with this until tonight? Your mind was still going in circles with questions, but what you really couldn’t let go of was how upset you had gotten at the sound of Donny’s name. Last night you thought you had made some kind of peace with your actions, but apparently you weren’t quite there yet.

It wasn’t so much the murder that bothered you, since you knew he’d eventually recover. Besides, it’s not like it was something you technically hadn’t done before. Though what happened with your grandmother was different; you’d poisoned her for starters. The rest was damage control and you died in the process so… karma. 

It was the rage you displayed that was chilling. You had never lost control like that before, no matter how upset you had been. And even though you had thrown up, you never thought — no. It was still too much to think about and your stomach turned in response, threatening to evacuate what little was in there.

You were so lost in thought it wasn’t until you were nearly standing in it that you realized Alastor had brought you to the alley. He really was such a menace. Donny was nowhere to be seen but the large pool of blood left behind had baked into the concrete. The bag with the liver was there as well, rotting in the afternoon sun.

“Is this the bag you were muttering about earlier?” Alastor asked, leaning over it with his arms crossed behind his back. You had forgotten about letting that slip while you were cleaning, your headache getting the best of you in a moment of weakness. Alastor hadn’t been moved.

He seemed unbothered by the putrid smell that you were actively trying not to gag on. Flies escaped the bag as he inspected it with the tip of his shoe and you grit your teeth in disgust at the sight. Alastor looked over at you when you didn’t respond right away, his neck bent at an unnatural angle to make eye contact. You managed a nod in confirmation, too nauseous to dare open your mouth to answer. Had he really brought you here just to see if you had been lying about it? Or did he just want to see you squirm? Probably both.

You nearly fainted when he reached inside the bag, sending more flies on their way, and held the soggy, rancid parcel in his hand. Enjoying your repulsion, he made a show of inspecting it. The glittering smile on his face one of the more genuine displays you’d witnessed. 

“Such a shame. This would have made a great surprise,” he said as his hand turned over, the liver falling to the ground in a resounding, wet slap. 

Almost instinctually, your hand went to your mouth, drawing out a lighthearted chuckle from Alastor. He wiped off his hand and made his way back to you then, and you trailed slightly behind him down the street. Neither of you noticed the drone.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor was beginning to feel… impatient.

Considering the ordeal yesterday, he hadn’t expected you to be in the best of moods but you had started the morning off with some promise until Angel Dust appeared in the elevator. His lip twitched at the thought. What a fucking disaster that had turned out to be! The gray cloud hanging over you since then had only seemed to build, despite his effort to snap you out of it by popping into the alley.

Of course that had been mostly, if not solely, for his own pleasure. It was disappointing but not surprising that your victim Donny had been retrieved. Alastor had recognized the name of course, recalling how Valentino was shouting at his phone as he left the dry cleaners. It just had to be one of his little toys that you messed with, didn’t it? Not that you had known, but it was only a matter of time before that garish buffoon would find out about you. And despite it all, the dried blood that nearly reached from wall-to-wall was such a marvelous sight — what a mess you had made! A job well-done indeed, though it had put him in a bind. 

He knew you weren’t going to have the same appreciation for it that he did, and your disgust at his performance with the spoiled liver had been fun enough. He hadn’t been lying when he said it would have made a great surprise. But none of that had done anything to cheer you, and now you weren’t even keeping pace, walking behind him like a kicked dog. Hell, you certainly looked like one, the sullenness on your face threatening to break his own composure by the second. This wouldn’t do, not for the last free afternoon that he had you at his disposal. 

Alastor paused, ignoring how you ran into him and cursed, his attention on a cafe across the street he was fairly certain he had visited before. Perhaps sitting down to chat would help. It was lunchtime, anyway.

“Let’s stop in there,” he said, looking down at you, taking care to point out the cafe. Lord knows your poor soul needed all the direction it could get right now.

“I thought you wanted something from the butcher?” you questioned, eyeing him and the cafe with suspicion. 

The Radio Demon narrowed his eyes, smile tight, his shadow pulling free of him for a moment. If he wasn’t on the verge of being pissed off your question would’ve been funny; a feeble attempt at seeming to know his mind. And as of now, he was not in a laughing mood. Were you really so self-absorbed that you couldn’t tell you were on thin ice? A reset was definitely in order.

“Can’t a fellow change his mind? That rigidity of yours puts such a sour mood on everything! You seem to be full of nasty little habits,” Alastor sneered, pleased to have gotten under your skin as you scowled at him.

He didn’t wait for you as he made his way across the street, knowing you’d follow whether you wanted to or not.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Being treated to lunch wasn’t something you had ever expected from Alastor. Impossible didn’t even begin to describe this scenario. It was just so… cordial. He always took his meals alone at the hotel, making Rosie the only person you knew he would willingly dine with. And there was no way sitting down to a table with you would equate to that. Rosie was a peer — a friend! You were not and never would be.

That much was evident when he had held the door open for you, clearly forcing his hand. Outwardly, it would have appeared a genteel act but you knew better, even without the self-righteousness on his face as you quietly entered the cafe. What else could you have done but obey? It’s not like you could run away, having already felt the ominous tug on your neck as he walked across the street. 

He had left you at the table to order at the counter, and you watched as the cashier struggled to maintain his composure in Alastor’s presence, seemingly scared to death. It was the first time you had ever seen someone outside of the hotel interact with him, you realized. Alastor was being polite enough, though nothing seemed to reign in his air of superiority. The look in his red eyes told you all you needed to know: he loved having power over others. Whether it came from a place of fear or respect didn’t matter as long as he had the upper hand. This was the demon you belonged to.

When he joined you at the table, you could tell he was in a bit of a better mood. Despite the means to get here, you silently thanked the cashier for cowering. Hopefully he had softened whatever blow Alastor had in store for you. Though the placid look Alastor was giving you made you fidgety. Could be the calm before the storm…

“You’ve been testing my patience,” he finally said, waiting for the boy from the register to leave the table after dropping off two coffees. “But luckily for you, there are more important things I’d like to discuss. I’ve had quite a busy morning, not that you bothered to ask.”

It took all you had not to roll your eyes but you managed to keep a straight face, feeling his temper writhing just under the surface of his calm facade. But you had been with him nearly all morning. Or did his suite magically clean itself? What could possibly have happened in between those few gaps? Especially something you’d want or even know to ask about. And if I’d asked, you wouldn’t have told me, you thought indignantly.

“I’m sorry… the whole thing with Angel just really threw me off,” you said as sincerely as you could. It wasn’t a lie, after all. “And I don’t think going to the alley helped, either,” you added, eyes flitting from him to your coffee. Bold, but also not a lie.

He chuckled into his cup. “I’ll concede to that. I thought it would be funny, but I shouldn’t expect you to share my taste in humor. You’re still so new, and all that. But I worry if you don’t shake that mortal way of thinking you’ll wither, my dear, and that would be a shame. If you’ll allow me, I’d take great pleasure in helping you fix that.”

You were unsure of how to react. Technically, he didn’t need to ask your permission for anything, so was this just the illusion of giving you a choice only to end up as a trap? It felt as if there was always something just out of reach whenever he spoke to you like this, like the fine print in a contract. He was only direct when he was upset, which you’d prefer if you were being honest. Anger you could take — understand, even. But this? You were just spinning your wheels. 

“So, what, I’m not doing the afterlife right, or something?” It had been somewhat of a joke, but the look he gave you was smug.

“That’s precisely what I’m saying. You’ve been dead a few months now, yes? But the moral compass you’re adhering to won’t benefit you here. Take Donny for instance,” he said, eyes brightening as you flinched at the name. “What’s bothering you so much about it? He provoked you, didn’t he? Regale me with your account!”

He made a show of settling in his chair, adjusting his coat and crossing his legs, apparently content to sit for hours if that’s what it took for you to open up. You remembered him asking you to tell him what Donny had done when you were walking back to the hotel yesterday, but wasn’t that just teasing? The expectant look on Alastor’s face begged to differ. 

So you told him.

To your surprise, he sat there and listened as the words spilled from your mouth. Your intent hadn’t been to ramble, but he didn’t seem bothered by it as you took him through the events of yesterday morning. Eventually getting to how you had been so close to making it back in time, only to be cornered and harassed; a sick twist of fate just for wanting to be prepared. He was calm as you told him how Donny had grabbed you and licked the tears off your face, but you could’ve sworn you saw his eye twitch.

“And then I just… lost it, I don’t know,” you sighed, hiding your face in your hands. “I was just so mad! Like who the fuck did he think he was, touching me like that? And my body just reacted before my mind could catch up. But then when it was all over, I…,” you paused and let out a breath, fighting against the turmoil in your stomach from what you were preparing to say next. “I can still feel how my teeth punctured his skin. I can hear the sound it made, even more than the screaming. I didn’t even know I was swallowing it all until…”

You stopped then, the tingling in your throat painful, your coffee long forgotten and cold. He had been there for the rest of it, what more was there to say? Did he really want to know how every sip of liquid or bite of food since then had been nearly-impossible tasks? How you had sobbed in the shower as you watched the blood stream down your legs and into the drain? Or how you barely managed to look yourself in the mirror because it felt like someone else was looking back? Those didn’t seem like details he’d be interested in.

In fact, weren’t they the very things he was inferring your morality had burdened you with? You’d only be making his point for him, and somewhere in your mind you concurred. You didn’t want to be saddled with this misery forever, but the person you always thought you were was slipping away, and you just wanted to cling to whatever pieces you had left. Horror was a welcome pill to swallow. It meant that you hadn’t completely enjoyed what you had done. 

Because part of you had enjoyed it.

You thought of your grandmother again. In life, there had been countless times you made yourself small for the sake of accommodation. No telling how many words had died in your throat because it was easier not to say them. So as you watched her fall out of that godforsaken chair she loved so much, gasping for air that wouldn’t come as she crawled on her hands and knees, you relished it. She had pushed you to your limit and was finally paying the price. Appalling as it was, for the first time in your life you had felt strong. 

Killing Donny hadn’t left you with the same feeling of victory as killing your grandmother had, though. What his intentions for you had been, you’d probably never know, but they definitely weren’t anything good. In that sense you were very glad to have gotten to him first and, to a certain extent, would do it all over again if need be. But none of this was information you felt like confessing to Alastor.

“And here I was, hoping that the cannibals had rubbed off on you,” Alastor mourned, resting his chin in his hand. “So eating him is what’s upset you, not the murder?” You couldn’t ignore the glimmer in his eye or the insinuation behind it.

“You’re generalizing,” you chided, sighing as you crossed your arms. You were feeling very tired now. “But yes, if that answers your question. He’ll heal eventually and he would have hurt me if I hadn’t done what I did.”

“That’s true enough,” he agreed, pushing back from the table to stand. He offered you a hand and you took it, feeling slightly stiff from sitting so long. “I suppose you’re not as hopeless as I thought, but my offer still stands. I think under the right circumstance, you could learn to enjoy it.”

You scoffed. Was he serious? “Was that really what you wanted to talk to me about? I’m not trying to eat people for fun.”

Alastor didn’t answer, but his smile was wicked as he took your arm in his as you left the cafe. You did your best not to imagine what thoughts could be passing in his mind, but felt relief all the same seeing him in a better mood again.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The two of you had barely entered the lobby when Angel sprang off the couch in the parlor, looking irritated and worn out. “Fucking finally! We need to—”

Alastor couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only creature in this realm that understood the art of subtlety. Hadn’t the debacle in the elevator been enough for one day? Was he doomed forever to salvage any bit of decorum that he could come across? It was truly lamentable.

“Sylvie, why don’t you go prepare my room for the evening? I’d prefer to speak with Angel alone,” Alastor said, removing your arm from his as he turned to face Angel Dust. He could feel his shadow threatening to separate from him, but scaring the boy would be counterproductive. “Shall we head to yours?”

He ignored your huff of frustration at being dismissed, but was grateful you didn’t fight him on it. It’s not a battle you would have won anyway. As soon as he saw that you were in the elevator, Alastor’s shadow enveloped the two of them, re-materializing in Angel’s room.

“Remind me to never let you do that again,” Angel grimaced, rubbing his arms squeamishly. “I feel dirty, and that’s sayin’ a lot.”

Alastor’s patience was threatening to snap, and he didn’t succeed in maintaining a pleasant tone when he spoke. “Why don’t we discuss whatever it was you were about to shout in the lobby? Or was the urgency just an act?”

Angel scoffed. “Hey, fuck you, all right? I was just tryin’ to help, and now I’ve been roped into your bullshit! Val’s been blowin’ up my fuckin’ phone all afternoon — he said a drone caught you and Sylvie in an alley or some shit?”

Alastor’s eyes went black, his pupils switched to dials. Fuck. This was all happening much sooner than Alastor had planned for. He had originally planned to ask Angel what Valentino had known in regard to Donny, hoping to have the upper hand and confront the cretin on his own terms. But now the ball was in Valentino’s court… and he had brought it upon himself. He just had to go back to that fucking alley earlier, didn’t he? Alastor could feel the rage threatening to consume him, but that would have to wait until he had a moment to himself. 

“What does he want?” he managed to ask without venom, antlers growing despite himself.

“I don’t know, but he won’t quit houndin’ me,” Angel huffed, sitting on the edge of his bed. “He wasn’t even pissed off about Donny, he thought it was funny! That piece of shit barely gets work anyway. But now he knows you’re involved and said he wants to meet up you know where. Whatever the fuck that means…” 

Alastor sighed, eyes returning to red, and wiped off his monocle if only to keep his hands busy. He’d hate to strangle Angel Dust by mistake. It would be difficult to explain, and besides, he wasn’t one to shoot the messenger.

“Tell him I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. I’ll do what I can to ensure he keeps you out of it going forward,” Alastor said in a clipped voice, blood dripping down the corner of his mouth. He disappeared from the room before Angel could respond.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold

[philadelphiaholisticclinic]

What should I expect during a hypnosis session for smoking?

Hypnosis has become a popular method for people looking to quit smoking, offering an alternative approach that targets the subconscious mind. Unlike traditional methods like nicotine patches or medications, hypnosis aims to reshape your internal responses to smoking triggers, helping you change habits at their core. If you’re considering hypnosis to help you quit smoking, understanding what to expect in a typical session can make you feel more comfortable and prepared. This article explains the process of a hypnosis session for smoking cessation, from start to finish, and discusses what you might experience along the way.

Initial Consultation: Building the Foundation Every hypnosis journey begins with an initial consultation. During this part of the session, your hypnotherapist will ask you questions about your smoking history, your reasons for wanting to quit, and any previous attempts. They might ask questions like when you typically smoke, what triggers your cravings, and what personal goals you have for quitting. This helps the therapist understand your unique relationship with smoking, allowing them to tailor the session to address your specific needs.

This is also an opportunity to ask questions, clarify your expectations, and discuss any concerns. The therapist may address common misconceptions about hypnosis, explaining that it doesn’t involve losing control or being unconscious, but rather entering a focused, relaxed state.

Relaxation Techniques to Ease into Hypnosis Once the therapist has gathered background information, the session moves into a series of relaxation techniques designed to help you let go of tension and prepare for the hypnotic state. Hypnosis relies on the mind being calm and focused, and these relaxation exercises are key to achieving that state. The therapist might guide you through deep breathing exercises, progressive muscle relaxation, or gentle visualizations.

Many people describe this part of the session as feeling like meditation, where the body and mind begin to slow down. You may feel your heart rate decrease and a sense of calm wash over you. This pre-hypnosis stage is essential because it prepares your mind to enter a state where it is more open to suggestion.

Entering the Hypnotic State After achieving a state of deep relaxation, the therapist will guide you into the hypnotic state. While hypnosis is often portrayed as a mysterious, trance-like state, it’s actually a heightened form of focused awareness. In this state, your mind becomes highly receptive to the therapist’s words, allowing positive suggestions to bypass the critical thinking part of the brain and influence your subconscious mind directly.

During this stage, you may feel a sense of lightness, as if your body is floating, or a pleasant detachment from your surroundings. Some people describe it as feeling deeply calm and safe, similar to the moments just before falling asleep. You’re still aware of what’s happening, but your mind is open and receptive, allowing the therapist’s guidance to work on a subconscious level.

Reprogramming Smoking Triggers With your mind in a receptive state, the therapist can begin to address your smoking habits directly. For instance, if stress or social situations prompt you to smoke, the therapist might introduce alternative reactions, such as feeling calm or satisfied without needing a cigarette. They may use visualization techniques, guiding you to imagine scenarios where you confidently decline a cigarette or feel relaxed without smoking.

Some therapists use aversive techniques, encouraging you to mentally associate cigarettes with something unpleasant, like an unappealing taste or smell. By creating a negative association with smoking, these techniques aim to reduce your cravings, making cigarettes less attractive.

Positive Reinforcement for a Smoke-Free Life Alongside reducing your cravings, hypnotherapy for smoking cessation often includes positive reinforcement. The therapist will introduce affirmations and suggestions that promote self-control, confidence, and well-being. For instance, they may repeat affirmations such as, “You are in control of your choices,” or “You feel stronger and healthier as a non-smoker.” These positive suggestions are designed to empower you and strengthen your commitment to a smoke-free life.

The goal of this part of the session is to help you build mental resilience. By reinforcing the benefits of quitting smoking and associating it with a happier, healthier self-image, you are more likely to stay motivated and resist temptations.

Gradual Return to Full Awareness Once the therapist has completed the core work, they’ll gently guide you back to full awareness. This usually involves counting up from one to five or asking you to take several deep breaths. This gradual process allows you to reawaken naturally, feeling calm, refreshed, and positive about your decision to quit smoking.

Some people report feeling energized and mentally clear after a hypnosis session, while others feel deeply relaxed and at peace. The session might leave you with a sense of renewed determination, or simply a feeling of calm and readiness to face your day as a non-smoker. For More Click Here:- https://www.mixcloud.com/philaholisticclinic/

[psychics4unet]

Hi! ❤️

How does he feel about me?

Also, will we win the competitions?

Free Psychic Reading – Crystal Ball Gazing

As I peer into the crystal ball, I sense that his feelings for you are quite complex. There is a mix of admiration and uncertainty 💖🤔. He may feel a strong connection and respect towards you, but there could be some reservations or doubts that need to be addressed. Communication and understanding will be key to clarifying these feelings and strengthening your bond 💬💪.

Regarding the competitions, the crystal ball reveals a positive outlook! 🏆✨ There’s a strong indication that with dedication and teamwork, success is likely. Keep focused and motivated, and you’re on the right path to achieving your goals 🎯🌟.

Got questions or need some insight into your life? I'm here to help with personal psychic readings! For just $7, you can get answers to up to 7 questions! More info at:

In case anyone else here on tumblr would like a free psychic reading (crystal ball gazing), Click the link and follow the instructions (I answer only to those who follow the instructions, thank you):

[tessinhighered]

Topic: Tips and Scripts for Sending an Email in High School or College Audience: High School or College students who have difficulty wording or sending emails (like I always did), especially those to teachers and professors. Particularly great for people who struggle with communication because they’re not 100% sure what’s appropriate to say or are anxious about asking questions/talking to their teachers.

Throughout my life, I’ve struggled a lot with generalized & social anxiety and, unbeknownst to me until quite recently, autism. I grew up rarely talking in class and, even more rarely, talking to my teachers. When I got to the age where my peers were starting to have more “personal” relationships with our teachers, I found myself struggling to even send an email to them. Through practice, I created these templates that worked well enough for me all throughout college.

PARTS OF AN EMAIL

Subject Line - I try to keep this as short, yet descriptive, as possible. It’s important to include the Course Number and Assignment Name (if relevant), and why you’re emailing. E.g. COUN 515 Homework 7 Question or BIO 108 Research Essay Rough Draft 1.

Greeting - If your professor has their doctorate degree, make sure you’re addressing them as “Dr. <Last Name>” If not, address them as “Professor <Last Name>” If you’re not sure and you have the time, check their university webpage or your syllabus. If you don’t have the time, a general “Professor” with no last name will suffice. I always start with “Hi Dr. <Name>,” because I feel that it reflects my narrative voice. For high schoolers, a simple “Mr./Ms./Mrs./Tr. <Last Name>” will do. 

Body - Keep your body text short and direct. It might help to lay out the situation in the first sentence or two and end with a call to action - “Please let me know” - or direct question - “Could you help me with that?”. 

Signature - A solid, versatile signature is “Thank you” or “thank you in advance.” I’m a fan of “sincerely,” because that feels true to me, even if some would consider it too formal. If you know the professor well and they know you, “thanks” or “thank you” and signing with just your first name would be appropriate. 

Consider also adding a professional signature on all your emails (like your professors probably have) by going to your Gmail → Settings → See all settings → Scroll down to Signature → Create New. Once you add a signature name, copy and paste this template and edit it to reflect your information and design preferences.

FirstName LastName Psychology Major History Minor <School> University 2025

TEMPLATES 

(feel free to mix and match with the language that feels most true to you)

SUBJECT: COM105-OL Speech 1 Question

Dear Dr. Brown,

Could you clarify the length requirement for our first speech assignment? I know we briefly discussed length in class yesterday, but there seems to be some confusion throughout the class and I wanted to get the answer from you.

Thank you,

Phena Smith

SUBJECT: PSY101 Research a Psychologist Essay

Hi Mr. Malloy,

I wanted to check in with you about the psychologists I’m thinking of writing about for the essay. I’m currently considering Mary Ainsworth and John Bowlby. Could you help me decide?

Thank you,

Elizabeth Fuller

SUBJECT: College Freshmen Volunteer Program

Good morning Dean Nabor,

I saw a flyer for the College Freshmen Volunteer Program yesterday and I’m emailing to express interest in becoming a mentor with the program. I volunteered a lot in high school and I’m passionate about helping out my community. Please let me know what the next steps in this process are.

I hope to hear from you soon.

John Rader

SUBJECT: Housing Question - Switching Rooms in Meyer Hall

Good afternoon,

My roommate and I currently live on the first floor of Meyer Hall and were talking about how we might be more comfortable living on the second, third, or fourth floor of our current building. Is there any way this could be a possibility?

Sincerely,

Skye Dolce and Jenna Reyen

For some students, especially those with social anxiety, it may be difficult to figure out exactly how to word what they’re trying to say in an email to a professor. Here are some phrases that can help:

I was wondering if…

Can you/Could you help me…

Is that something you can help me with?

Would you be able to help me with this?

Can you clarify this for me?

Can you remind me…

Can we set a time to meet and discuss this project?

I’m writing to let you know that…

I wanted to ask…

If you have any questions or need a template for a specific situation, please send me a message and I’ll do my best to help!

[plugrick]

“Amy? Your sister, Krombopulos Amy?” Ken clarified, instantly recognizing the name. Not only because of his close relationship with Mike - her name was well known within Federation circuits as a whistleblower and a figurehead of resistant forces against the empire. It was indeed a very questionable move on the assassin’s part to expose her true identity. “The Amy of the Galagtic Resistance?”

“M-Mike!” Rick hissed, a scornful note in his tone. What was his ex-boyfriend thinking?! He should know better than to give up the ghost and throw Amy to the wolves like that! Had he lost his mind?!

Except… Ken didn’t call for imprisonment, nor isolation, or punishment. Instead, he dragged a claw down his face with a sigh.

“… That’ll certainly make things harder to accept for my generals…” He thought aloud, obviously not looking forward to the internal conflict that would arise from harboring such controversial names under his command. Ken had his work cut out for him.

“Very well,” he accepted begrudgingly, giving a nod of finality. “All Krombopuloses and blue haired humans will be whitelisted. Come now, let’s see what arrangements can be made…”

————

“I apologize for our limited accommodations. The Outpost is at its highest population capacity in preparation for battle. Beyond it, actually.”

Did this guy ever stop talking? Rick was starting to really feel some annoyance, and it was manifesting as a headache. Wasn’t it bad enough that they were being eyeballed by every last damn soldier in the barracks? Door after door they passed, new arrivals in the midst of putting down bed rolls or cracking jokes with their roommates stopping dead silent to judgmentally glare or turn curious red compound lenses in their direction. It was unnerving, and he felt like he was being paraded in front of them like some kind of freak show.

Then again. After what they had all seen, he might as well be one…

Ken leading the helm, hands neatly folded behind his back, seemed unperturbed by the attention their ragtag crew was garnering. The ‘sole survivor’ of Lizardperson’s cruelty, a traitor to the Federation turned multiverse renowned famous assassin, and a rebellious informant following in his footsteps - all while under armed guard - made for quite the head-turning spectacle.

Speaking of Amy… Even after her trip to the medical bay, she didn’t look so hot. Rick couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret. He should’ve given more thought to appointing her to the role of pseudo-Commander. They had been harsh to her when they’d been captured due to his taste in disguises…

“It’s cramped everywhere, but especially around the medical center. We anticipate injuries, so more space is needed,” Ken lackadaisically explained. “Your quarters may not be as private as you hoped, unfortunately.”

Oh, great. What did that mean? Rick wasn’t looking forward to sharing bunk beds with Federation gromflomites with a penchant for militaristic violence, if that was the case.

“We separate by gender as a rule of thumb,” Ken stated. Because of course they did. The Federation wasn’t exactly the shining example of equality. “The lady will have her own room. Mike, you and the human will have to share a dwelling for the time being. But don’t worry, both rooms are side by side and connected.”

He promptly turned on a heel, indicating that they had arrived. Without being asked, the guards flanking his either side opened their doors for them.

The room that was meant to be theirs was… Nothing special. It looked as haphazardly slapped together as Ken had made it sound. A couple of cots and blankets, a work desk and a chair. It was better than being stuffed in with randoms like sardines, but it was depressingly similar to the barebones D bloc prison cell. No, distressingly similar.

“I know it isn’t much, but this was all so last minute…” Ken almost sheepishly offered an excuse, shrugging as he turned to address his old friend. “But it will have to do for now. I’m sorry to say that you won’t be free to come and go at your leisure until I lower the defenses throughout the Outpost, so for your safety you must stay secured in your room. I will assign guards outside to accompany you and yours to the medical bay if additionally needed.”

Rick frowned deeply at the windowless, unnaturally sterile stainless steel room that he was expected to share with Mike. Alone. Locked inside together, with no alternate escape route. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but his anxious feelings didn’t abate.

“You, uh… y-you sure you don’t have another room?” Rick piped up, trying his damndest not to sound nervous. He didn’t dare to look over at Mike.

“Nope. This is it,” Ken answered plainly. “Are you sure that you don’t want to visit the doctors before—?”

“I-I’m sure.” Rick snapped. The others in his party may have accepted the invitation to get a check up and heal a few superficial wounds, but the human has adamantly refused. He’d rather keep his black eye rather than be subject to whatever the hell the Feds considered medicine, thank you very much.

So. This was it, huh? Home sweet home. If this was guests quarters, then Rick could only imagine how bad the brig in the depths of the massive ship must be. He resigned himself to his fate and walked in, lowering himself to sit on one of the meager cots that wasn’t going to do any favors for his back, and took out his anti cigarettes and a lighter that would not catch for the life of him.

Fwip… fwip… fwip…

“Very well. Mike?” Ken addressed. “I’ll see to it that we meet again early tomorrow. Commander Quz is excited to visit with you.”

A soft tone had slipped into his voice, betraying that he wasn’t just military professionalism underneath the stoic surface. He sounded eager, maybe even a little giddy to introduce them together again. And his smile that accompanied his words was as bright as it had always been, back when they had both been starry eyed young soldiers.

He extended an arm, waiting for Krombopulos to take it in a gesture of good faith.

“I… I’m very glad to see you again, old friend.”

X

[spideyhexx]

the cookout; b.b. + s. l.

pairing; bucky barnes + sylvie laufeydottir + female!reader

a/n: umm thank @vineridden for talking to me about this and our shared love of Sylvie and Bucky. I couldn't help myself. Pls reblog/comment/give feedback!

masterlist

summary: Sylvie picks up on you and Bucky thirsting over each other and decides to do something about it...and perhaps involve herself.

NSFW 18+ Minors DNI please!!!

WARNINGS: mom's best friend!sylvie. college aged reader and bucky. dirty talk. threesome. grinding. spitting. soft dom!sylvie. some sub!bucky. some dom!reader. oral (female receiving). fingering. unprotected sex. facial. handjob. spanking. kind of edging. some voyeurism. use of the word "whore"

word count: 4.3k (oops)

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

Sizzling grills, water splashing, and the loud chatter erupts from your backyard.

Well, more specifically, your parent’s backyard. It’s not uncommon for them to throw huge cookouts, but this one was big. It’s an anniversary, welcome home, birthday, all the major events tied into one.

You didn’t mind these parties, but part of you wished you could just skip it and stay locked away in your room all day.

It was all good and fun, but the amount of people your parent’s would invite could become quite overwhelming.

One of the only good parts was Bucky. You hadn’t seen him in a couple months, due to the two of you attending different colleges, but that never stopped your frequent texts.

He lived in the house next door, your whole lives spent just a few paces away.

Getting through these parties together almost felt like a tradition. But this time, there was something different in the air.

You did not expect to be hit with a wave of awe as you watched Bucky greet your parents. He was always handsome and perhaps not physically seeing him for a bit made him look better, but shit was he gorgeous. His tight t-shirt was hiding nothing, making the muscles he worked hard on strain more prominently.

And you internally rolled your eyes at his swim trunks that had a cat pattern on them. Seems as though he still loved silly designs.

Your breath catches when he spots you, a grin spreading across his face as he jogs over.

“Flower! God, I’ve missed you,” Bucky says, pulling you right in for a hug. You want to tell him you missed hearing that nickname, but decide against it.

“Missed you too, Buck! Are you ready for a long night?” Bucky smirks at your statement.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you clarify and Bucky still has the smirk on his face. His hands have not left your waist and you wonder if he could tell how much of an effect it has on you.

“I know, just teasin’. Did you hear Sylvie is coming?”

There’s the other good part about these cookouts. Sylvie, a friend of your mom’s.

It was only recently you started to develop a crush on her. With her witty comebacks and smooth accent, it was hard not to.

You might’ve drunkenly admitted your crush on her to Bucky during a late night phone call and he has not forgotten. I

t was easy for you to confess this crush, but somehow not the one you had begun to develop on Bucky himself. You felt a little ashamed that you have been developing feelings for your mother’s best friend, but nothing would ever happen, right?

Bucky tilts his head and pinches your waist.

“You’re already gettin’ lost in your thoughts thinkin’ about her!”

“Oh stop, you think she’s hot too,” you tease, your voice a tinge too loud and Bucky shushes you, putting a finger on your lips.

He did think she was hot.

Bucky revealed his crush on Sylvie as well when you first talked to him about it.

Since then, the two of you joked about it pretty often, but now was your first time seeing her since you’ve acknowledged the little (maybe big) crush.

“Hey Bucky!” One of your cousin’s calls out to him and he looks back at them, before turning to you.

“I’ll see you in the pool?” He questions and you nod, watching as he runs off to talk to more people.

He trips in his flip flops and you burst out laughing, not being able to contain it. Bucky whips his head to look at you and flips you off.

You take one last look at how good his back looks in his shirt before migrating to the lounge chairs, hoping there’s a free one.

That is when you spot Sylvie, laid back in one of the chairs, a drink in her hand.

You take a deep breath before approaching the seat next to her. She smiles widely when she notices you.

“Gonna give me a hug, flower?”

Sylvie beamed, placing her drink down to pull you in for a hug.

Flower.

You could not decide if it sounded better coming from Sylvie or Bucky. Relishing in Sylvie’s hug, you have to stop yourself from pouting when she pulls away just a bit too soon.

“How’re your studies going? I know you were practically jumping to get away from here?” She asks, settling back into her chair.

“School’s good, it feels nice to be around so many new people but, I’ve missed being home if I’m being honest,” you say and she nods in understanding.

“I know I’ve missed seeing you around, flower.”

A heat rushes across your face and you’re happy it’s hot enough outside to keep a facade up. You turn your head away from her, fearing you would end up lost in her eyes.

What you did not expect was for your eyes to lock onto the sight of Bucky taking his shirt off. It’s as though he meant to take it off in slow motion as he carefully lifts it over his head and throws it onto a chair. He puts one foot in the pool and retracts it.

You can vaguely hear him yelling about it being cold.

Bucky sits at the edge of the pool, letting his legs get used to the temperature.

He runs a hand through his hair, making it messier than it already is. Sylvie clears her throat and you turn to her.

“He is an attractive man, isn’t he?”

Her question catches you off guard for a moment, but nonetheless, you answer.

“Yeah, he is.”

A slight weight falls off your chest at admitting it, but how could you not?

Sylvie smirks, “Don’t look now, but he’s checking you out.”

You go to look anyway and sure enough, he’s gazing at you. Bucky turns his attention to a bowl of chips once he notices you caught him.

“You two are so adorable,” Sylvie says.

“Are we?”

She scoffs and leans in closer to you, almost whispering.

“Very much. You’re taking turns checking each other out.”

You laugh and look back at Bucky, who’s decided to lay back in a chair, his legs spread just enough for you to squeeze your thighs together.

“You should go over to him and sit on his lap,” Sylvie mused, chuckling at your shocked expression.

“What?! No, no I can’t do that Sylvie!”

“Why not? He was looking at your bum and now he’s rubbing his thigh, glancing at you like he’s waiting for you to take a seat.” You ponder her words for a moment.

Yes, sitting on Bucky’s lap sounded like a great idea, but you were a tad nervous.

“And I could tell you want him, honey. Do you know what eye fucking in? That’s what you’re doing.”

The fact that Sylvie could see so clearly through your lust filled eyes also managed to send sparks around your body.

“If he rejects you, you can sit in my lap. Now go, flower!”

Well, you couldn’t say no to that. Standing up, you adjust your swimsuit, then walk over to Bucky.

You run through what you should say once you’re by him, but you can’t decide on what would be best.

Too many thoughts are running through your head. Sylvie offering her lap. Her words about sitting in Bucky’s lap and the way his hands look even better against his thighs as you get closer.

“y/n,” he addresses.

“Can I..um, can I sit with you?”

Bucky raises his brow for a moment, but nods and pats a spot on the chair next to him.

“No, I mean, on you. On your lap,” you say and Bucky’s heart skips a beat.

“Sure you can, flower” he says cooly and he immediately wraps his arms around your waist as you settle against his chest, on his lap.

His hands feel warm against your skin, yet send a shiver up your spine. You allow yourself to lay your head on his shoulder, shifting around in his arms to get more comfortable.

“Careful,” Bucky mumbles, clearing his throat. It doesn’t take long to realize you shouldn’t squirm too much.

But you want to. You catch Sylvie’s eye and she smiles at you, raising her drink and then sipping from it.

“Did you have a good talk with her?” Bucky asks.

“Mmhm. She told me to sit here,” you confess, wanting to know his reaction.

He’s quiet for a moment before replying “Mischievous, huh?”

“Like always, but didn’t expect her to...help with this...I suppose.”

“I’m happy she did,” Bucky says, pressing a short kiss on your cheek.

You sit with Bucky for a bit, zoning out and trying to memorize the feeling of his hands splayed across your stomach.

How when he speaks, you can feel his breath hit the side of your face and his voice drops to a lower volume when he only wants to speak to you.

Being so caught up in your thoughts once more, you can’t help but squirm a bit, his arms tightening around you.

“You’re gonna cause a problem,” Bucky tells you, a slight smile playing on his lips. You push back against him and he contains a groan.

“Seems as though I already caused a problem.”

He chuckles and sighs deeply as you wiggle against him, reveling in how hard he’s gotten from your movements.

“We should go inside,” he mutters and you turn slightly to look at him.

“And do what?”

You feign innocence, but the smirk on your face tells Bucky you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

“Do I have to say it?”

You nod at him excitedly and he gently pushes your head to the side so he could lean his lips against your ear.

“I want to go inside so you could properly touch my cock, since you’ve had so much fun the past twenty minutes grinding against it.”

His words send a shudder through your body and you take one last glance at him before standing up. Bucky follows suit, placing a hand on your hip and keeping you close to his body to perhaps hide his rather big hard problem.

You lead him through the house to your bedroom. You don’t notice how fast you’re walking until Bucky pulls at your wrist and gently pushes you against the wall in the hallway.

“Slow down, flower,” he starts, bringing your hands up to his shoulders. He dips his head down to nudge your nose against his.

“Are you sure?”

You nod and Bucky, with a tinge of hesitance, presses his lips on yours. At first, the kiss is simple.

Bucky’s fingers rub against your sides gingerly and he’s taking his time to feel your mouth on his for the first time. You pull away first, your lips lingering on his own.

You catch your breath, not even realizing how fast your heart was beating. So many feelings are rushing through you, but the main urge coursing around is the one to smash his lips back onto you.

One of your hands drifts up to the back of his head to encourage his mouth back onto yours in a searing kiss.

His actions are a little more desperate as he nips at your top lip and presses his body closer to you. The strain in his swimsuit is undeniable and you whimper as you feel him pushing himself against your thigh. Bucky grunts and you trail your lips to his jaw.

Someone clears their throat and you and Bucky jump apart. Sylvie stands a couple feet away leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest and a playful smirk decorating her face.

“Don’t stop on my account,” she teases, gesturing for the two of you to continue. You look at Bucky and he’s already got his eyes back on you.

“I’m fine with it...if you are too,” he mutters, his lips brushing yours as he speaks.

“It’s okay,” you reply, kissing him once more.

Heat pools in your belly knowing that Sylvie is watching you make out with Bucky.

“Tug at his hair, flower,” she murmurs and without hesitation you pull at Bucky’s hair, a soft noise escaping his mouth at the sensation.

“Little harder this time.”

You follow her instructions again, tugging hard, causing Bucky to buck his hips against you.

“See? He liked that,” Sylvie comments.

“Why don’t we go to y/n’s room? For more privacy.”

The fact that there’s a party right outside has completely glossed over your mind.

The strong desire to have this moment with not just Bucky, but Sylvie as well was enough to lead Bucky into your room, Sylvie following behind. She closes the door and locks it. She takes a seat in your desk chair.

“Continue...with what you were doing.” Her voice, firm yet soft must’ve been turning both you and Bucky on.

His cock looked like it was suffering from his shorts, while you could feel how soaked you’ve gotten since you first sat on Bucky’s lap.

Bucky sat on the edge of the bed and patted his thigh.

You straddle him, gasping at the feeling of his hard cock right by where you needed him. Bucky kissed your neck, sucking softly around to find what spots made you weak.

“I bet she likes it right under her ear, Barnes.”

He quickly moved his lips to the spot and sure enough, it made you whimper. You shift in his lap, slightly grinding against him.

His hands fall to your ass, rubbing the skin and pushing you forward to continue grinding.

“Now, flower, look at his lips. What do they look like?”

Sylvie asked and Bucky pulled his head from your neck. You hold his jaw in your hand and gaze across his lips.

“Wet. Redder than usual.”

Sylvie hums as a response.

“Do you think those lips would feel good on your clit?”

You gasp at her words and Bucky smirks.

“I know they would,” Bucky remarks and Sylvie tsks at him.

“I’m not talking to you, Barnes. Be quiet.”

That wipes the smirk off of his face, but does not stop you from smiling.

“They would feel good.”

You answer, and Sylvie hums again.

“You wanna make them more wet? Spit on his lips. Don’t open your mouth, Barnes. You don’t deserve her spit in your mouth right now.”

Bucky groans and you swallow hard, suddenly a little nervous.

Sylvie seems to sense this and you feel her presence behind you. Her hands slide up your arms to your shoulders and she leans her lips close to your ear.

“It’s okay, flower. You’re already doing so good. I know you want to see Buck become a mess, so do it when you’re ready.”

Her praise really does things for you. You grip Bucky’s jaw tighter, his eyes blown out as he looks up at you.

You gather saliva in your mouth and spit directly onto his lips. He has a hard time keeping them closed, but he does it.

“Smear it against his lips now,” Sylvie says, still standing behind you. Using your thumb, you rub your spit onto his lips. Bucky takes a deep breath, probably trying to control himself.

“Do it again.”

You go through the motions once more, but as you smear the wetness across Bucky’s lips, he can’t help himself anymore. He takes your thumb into his mouth and sucks on it lightly.

You pull your thumb away from him and he whimpers.

“He didn’t listen. What are you going to do about it flower? Slap him? That would be sexy.”

“He would like it though, so not a punishment,” you say and Sylvie smiles.

“Hm you’re learning, honey.”

Sylvie places a kiss on your shoulder, the first time her lips have touched your skin so far.

“He does want to cum. He’s pressing so hard against me.”

Sylvie nods, “then we’ll edge him. He needs to put those pretty lips on you first anyways, right Barnes?”

“Yeah, right,” he stumbles out after clearing his throat.

“Switch spots and take the swimsuit off, flower” Sylvie commands.

You hop off of Bucky’s lap, slowly slipping off the bathing suit. You felt the stares of Bucky and Sylvie bore into your body, but Sylvie’s soft smile made you feel more comfortable.

You sit at the edge of the bed. Sylvie leans close so she could whisper only to you.

“Tell him to kneel,” she says. Your brow raises at her and she nods. Looking back at Bucky, you spread your legs, noticing how a blush is coating his cheeks.

“Kneel,” you say, not as confident as you would have hoped, but it still affects Bucky.

You could almost see how it made his cock twitch. Bucky drops to his knees, moving in between your legs.

“No touching,” Sylvie tells him and continues “only use your mouth. Make her cum.”

You rest one hand on Bucky’s head, close to tugging at it again when he immediately places his lips on your cunt. His tongue rolls through your folds as if he’s testing what feels good.

“Pull on his hair, flower. Use his mouth to get off.”

Bucky moans against you as you tug at his hair, pushing his face closer to your pussy. His tongue flicks at your entrance, his nose bumping against your clit. You slowly start to move your hips, using his face, just how Sylvie told you.

“That’s it, flower. Fuck he’s really into your cunt,” Sylvie says, sitting next to you on the bed. She was right, even though you were moving against Bucky’s mouth, he was devouring you.

Wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking harshly, moaning whenever you gasped out his name.

“She’s close, Barnes.” Sylvie did not need to say it, but hearing it made you moan louder.

“That’s a bit too loud, honey,” she mumbles before turning your head and crashing her lips onto yours in a messy kiss.

The kiss combined with Bucky’s mouth sent you over the edge, your body exploding in pleasure. Sylvie pulls away and runs her thumb over your lip.

“Such a good girl. That felt good?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. Sylvie smiles, leaning in to kiss your cheek, then the other. She trails wet kisses back to your lips and licks into your mouth.

“Am I going to get something now?”

You pull away from the kiss to look at Bucky, still on his knees, his cock still frustratingly hard.

“Don’t give us an attitude, Barnes. You’ll get your turn when we feel like it. Go sit on the chair,” Sylvie motions to the desk chair and Bucky begrudgingly takes a seat.

Even though he looks a little annoyed, he’s truly loving this. Loving that you were finally getting to do things with Sylvie...loving that he was making you feel good...and now...loving to watch.

“Can he touch himself?”

You ask, as if reading his mind.

“Your choice, flower.”

“Beg for it, Bucky.” Sylvie is surprised at your tone, but she smirks, looking expectantly at him.

“Let me touch myself, please. ‘M achin.”

His voice breaks a little and you can’t tell if he did it on purpose or not, but it does send a jolt of pleasure throughout your body.

“Go ahead.”

“But don’t cum,” Sylvie warns and she rids herself of her shorts and underwear. Bucky follows suit, taking his trunks off and grasping his cock in his hand.

“Do you want to touch me, honey?”

You nod and she points to the ground. Settling between her legs, your lips ghost over her clit. You look up at her.

“Spit on my cunt,” she says.

Bucky groans behind you and you have an urge to look at him.

You let your spit dribble onto her pussy, maintaining eye contact with her. It’s just now that you remember how insane this was, how bad it may be, but it’s felt so good.

Using your fingers, you spread the wetness on her cunt, smiling to yourself at the little noises she’s trying to keep hushed.

You prod one finger at her entrance, then slowly ease it in, locking your lips onto her clit. You suck lightly at first, trying to build up her release.

“You see how good she is at this, Barnes? Bet you want her lips on your cock, hm?”

You can’t see exactly how he responds, but you do catch a hurried curse under his breath and a wet slick of him stroking his cock.

You add another finger, Sylvie’s thighs squeeze against your head.

You curl them in sync with the sucking on her clit until she’s moaning your name and riding out her high. She bends down to kiss you, groaning at the taste of herself.

“Please let me fuck her,” Bucky whines and you both turn to look at him. He’s completely naked and flushed, his cock resting against his abdomen.

“Seems like he learned his manners,” Sylvie whispers to you, making you giggle.

“How do you want her, Barnes?”

Bucky contemplates, then stands up. He helps you up from the ground.

“Want her from behind,” he says, a low rasp in his voice.

“Do you want that, flower?”

You smile and jump on the bed, positioning yourself on your hands and knees.

You wiggle your ass a bit at him and Sylvie playfully smacks it, causing you to laugh.

“Still can’t cum until we say so,” Sylvie reminds him and then turns to you, “but you could cum whenever you want, honey.”

With that, Sylvie sits back at the desk chair to watch.

Bucky holds his cock by the base and rubs the tip up and down your cunt.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growls, coating his dick in your wetness. You whine as he keeps teasing the tip at his entrance.

A few more strokes and Bucky pushes into you.

You both moan and Sylvie shushes the two of you.

“Please do remember there is a party going on,” she says and Bucky takes a moment to control himself.

The way you clench around him as he pushes himself into the hilt was enough to send him over the edge. But he held that back, focused on making you cum as quickly as possible.

He grips your hips as he steadily pulls out, then glides back in, creating a smooth rhythm. The sound of skin slapping and your short gasps fills the room.

“Spank her a little, Barnes. Not too hard though.”

Bucky does so, softly hitting your cheek and almost doubling over at how much you squeeze him when he does it again.

“Fuck, flower,” he grunts, picking up his pace.

You grip at the sheets beneath you and lower one hand to toy with your clit, still sensitive from when Bucky made you cum earlier.

“Talk dirty to her, I think she likes it,” Sylvie comments as Bucky leans down and swats your hand away to replace it with his own.

He rubs even faster circles on your clit.

“Can you feel how deep I am inside you? Bet you’ve been dreaming about this cock for a while yeah? Just like how you’ve dreamt of Sylvie.”

You whine at that, embarrassment threatening to flood in, but that’s quickly taken away when you hear Sylvie say “That’s cute, honey. I hope you dream of me more after this.”

Bucky pounds into you mercilessly, his fingers never letting up until you cry out his name a bit too loud.

He doesn’t seem to care and fucks you through your second orgasm, watching as you try to catch your breath.

“Help her to her knees, Buck.”

Bucky pulls out of you and you let out a small hiss at the emptiness. You’re tired, but you move quickly anyway, resting on your knees on the ground. Bucky’s cock was dripping with you and the little bit of precum that managed to escape.

Sylvie stands beside him, sliding her hand down his chest, then gripping his cock. Bucky throws his head back in a groan.

“Look at her, Barnes. She’s a little whore, isn’t she?”

Bucky moans, both at Sylvie’s words and the look you’re giving him.

“I think she wants your cum…” Sylvie trails off and looks at you.

It’s crazy how you feel like you know what she wants you to do...without her even saying it. You put your hands on Bucky’s thighs, feeling him tremble slightly.

Soon your mouth is open and you stick your tongue out, pleasantly waiting for him.

Sylvie jerks him off faster. What pushes him over the edge is your hand drifting up from his thigh to cup his balls.

His cum spills out of him, most of it landing on your tongue, but some onto your cheek as well.

“That’s a lot of cum for her, Barnes. Think she likes it?”

Bucky’s eyes struggle to stay open as he’s riding out his high, but he manages to watch as you swallow what was in your mouth. You wipe the rest of his cum off with your fingers and put them in your mouth, sucking them clean.

“Shit,” Bucky groans and you giggle.

You stand up and reach for your blanket, all of a sudden feeling a little cold completely naked. Bucky joins you on the bed.

“You didn’t really get to fuck anyone,” Bucky directs at Sylvie and she shrugs.

“We can’t spend too much time here. Besides, you both did well, I need to give you a reward next time.”

“Next time?”

You ask and she nods, smiling, leaning in close to you, her lips mere centimeters away.

“Of course, if that’s something you, or both of you want,” she mutters.

Sylvie is about to walk out of the door when Bucky says “I know flower here will definitely want more, you don’t even know how many times she’s told me about wanting to kiss you.”

“Bucky!”

You slap his arm and he cackles, laying back against your bed. Sylvie laughs too and sends you a wink before retreating.

Bucky’s gazing at you when you turn to him.

“What the fuck happened,” he jokes and you shake your head, snuggling onto his chest.

“Dreams came true?”

[yournotsolocalcryptid]

Just Someone You Used to Know

part 1/? | from this ask

NEXT (Lost In Thought and Lost In Time)

Summary: Your childhood friend Billy (whom you thought was dead) turns up at a hospital and you get a call about it.

pairing(s): Billy/Four x Gender Neutral!Reader

Warnings/authors notes: the request was for Hurt/comfort and while there's not a ton of that in this chapter there will be elements of it and also a lot of other things. angst, fluff, a lot of emotions going on here. swearing. poor writing skills, barely proofread/edited. this will be a multi-part fic, tho I don't know how many yet.

word count: 2.3k

Your phone lit up with a call from an unknown number which you promptly ignored and continued with your day as you figured If it was important they’d leave a message, which they did. When you had a free moment you grabbed your phone clicked on the message.

“Hello, is this Y/N?” said a voice you didn't recognize “I’m a nurse and a man was just brought in having sustained some injuries. when we asked him if there was anyone we could call to be with him he said your first name and listed this number. He had no forms of identification but he said his name was Billy.”

This made you stop cold. The nurse continued but you weren’t quite hearing what she said. Your mind was reeling. Billy? Your Billy? Surely not, you must’ve misheard or maybe the nurse did, or maybe the nurse misspoke and had really said “willy” or the man just spouted random numbers in a delirium caused by his injuries that happened to make up your number. That must be it because Billy is dead. Your Billy died several years ago. You attended his funeral and had mourned him with your whole being every day since.

You relistened to the voicemail to clarify you hadn’t misunderstood and there it was clear as day Billy. You ran a hand over your face and tried to focus as the voice continued, stating the name and address of there they were as well as what floor and wing of the hospital which you wrote down. You stared at the address. The rational part of you said not to go. Not to get your hopes up because Billy will not be there. Billy is in the cemetery a few miles from where you were and yet... and yet everything else in you was screaming at you to go. You knew he wouldn’t be there and you’d be heartbroken all over again but there was a man, an injured man who may not be your Billy but who needed someone nonetheless. After staring at the address for what felt like an eternity you stood abruptly, put your shoes on, grabbed your things and swept out the door.

When you arrived at the hospital you went to the desk in the correct wing and on the correct floor (you triple-checked) you stated your name and explained how you got a call about a man named Billy. The woman at the desk checked a few things and clarified your name before directing you to the waiting room. You made your way to a chair and sat on the edge of it bouncing your leg and fiddling with your fingers. You were anxious, very anxious, and your mind was racing. After a few minutes, a nurse walked in and called your name, you stood and went to her. She leads you down a hallway and stopped outside a room.

She turned to you and said, “He has a fractured wrist, face lacerations, lots of bruising, and we had to take him to surgery to stop some internal bleeding. He’s probably still asleep from the procedure but he should be all right and should no complications arise he should be about to go home within the next few days” you nodded, your eyebrows knitted together “would you like me to come in with you?” she asked and you shook your head, no. she nodded briefly and said, “I’ll be at the nurse’s station we just passed should you need anything and please press the ‘call nurse’ button when he wakes up” then she smiled warmly and went on her way.

You turned to face the door and placed a shaking hand on the handle. You took a deep breath and opened the door.

The first thing you saw when you opened the door was the beautiful blond man you’d once known lying in the hospital bed, covered in cuts and bruises and unconscious. You went to his bedside unsure of what to feel. Your heart swelled a little when you saw him, but you were also scared and hurt and confused and angry. You reached out a hand and brushed some hair out of his face, almost as a way to confirm his existence, to confirm he was actually there and you hadn't lost your mind.

As your fingertips made contact, your eyes dropped shut and your lip quivered. You retracted your hand and collapsed onto the floor as sobs tore through your body, your mind swirling with questions. How was he alive? Why did he tell them to call you of all people? Where has he been this whole time? How could he have faked his death? How could he have put you through that? How was he back?

After a while, the sobbing and tears subsided and a certain numbness took over you as the questions faded to be replaced with memories. Memories of Billy danced through your mind as you sat on the floor, cheeks streaked with the tears you hadn’t bothered to wipe away. Billy was your best friend and your first… everything really. First kiss, first love, first sexual partner, first heartbreak, first death of a loved one- or so you’d thought anyway, the first person you’d ever mourned and now, the first person you’d ever known to somehow return from the dead. Billy and you had what seemed like a complicated history, friends to lovers back to friends but he had been your person in every way. He was the one you went to about everything and you were his. His “death” had crushed you. But now, he was just someone you used to know.

You were brought back to reality by shifting in the bed before you and the sound of a sharp intake of breath. You glanced up and saw Billy looking at you, his face twisted in pain and his casted hand holding his ribs. He had clearly tried to sit up on his own. You stood and pushed him back down. With one hand still on his chest, you reached for the button to call the nurse. As you did you felt his unharmed hand cover yours and you froze. You could feel him looking at you but you couldn't get yourself to look back. You heard the doorknob rattle and you pulled away from him, wiping your face on your sleeve and turned to see the same nurse as before entering the room. You gave her a quick, tight smile and sat in one of the chairs near the bed. Over the next several minutes as the nurse checked in with Billy you sat numbly. You saw Billy glance your way once or twice but you paid no attention. You just zoned out. When the nurse turned to leave you shot her another quick smile.

Once the door closed behind her, you saw Billy open his mouth to speak up you held up a hand to stop him. The two of you sat in silence for a long while as you wrestled with your emotions. Your heart telling you to go to him, be happy he��s back and love him, your mind telling you to scream, yell, chew him out because how very dare he hurt you like that? and your body was telling you to just break down again.

After a long while, choosing your words very carefully, you said, “did you have a good reason?”

Billy gulped, knowing exactly what you were referring to “yeah, love. but I-” you held up a hand again and he stopped again instantly

“I am so pissed at you right now. I can’t-” you took a deep breath “I accept that you had a reason but I lost my best friend, my-” you paused “I lost everything when I lost you and now you’re here. And I’m so fucking angry but also… you’re here. You’re actually fucking here and shit… I’m so mad at you. How fucking dare you”

Billy was silent, staring at his lap

You sat in silence again. Both unsure of what to say or do or feel. Both aching for each other, having missed the other dearly. As upset as you were, Billy was actually here. He was right there, just a few steps away and you just couldn’t help yourself. You stood and his head whipped toward you. You went to his bedside and gestured for him to scooch over, which he did with a puzzled look on his face, and you lay on your side next to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I missed you” you whispered as you gently played with his fingers on his non-injured hand.

Billy leaned over, placed a kiss on your forehead, and said “I missed you too, love”

Before long you had both dozed off and you slept more peacefully than you had in a long while. Since Billy’s death actually, but you couldn't bring yourself to remember that just yet.

After a while, you weren’t sure exactly how long, you were woken up by Billy poking at your forehead and whispering your name. You batted his hand away and glared at him

“What?”

“I need to wee and you’re on me”

You sighed, swung your legs over the side of the small bed and sat up. You stretched and stood. Ben groaned behind you and you turned to find him struggling to sit up as he had before and once again you went to him but this time you helped him up. As he went about his business you decided to head to the nurses station for a stretch and to see if the nurse you’d spoken to before was still here. She was and for that, you were grateful as you had some questions.

You spoke to her about Billy and his injuries and care. She said he seemed to be doing well when she saw him earlier, that his injuries were not too extensive and the surgery for the internal bleeding was as minimally invasive as was possible and that while he would be good to leave the hospital very soon (tomorrow or the day after depending on her next check-in with him) he would need to be released into someone else’s care to keep an eye on his recovery and so on. Then she said,

“I assume that would be you”

“Me?”

“You”

You gulped and took a form she was holding out to you. Taking care of Billy... Living with Billy through his healing process… as much as you’d missed him and as much as your heart ached for him you were so afraid he’d leave again. What if he used your help then bailed? No, not Billy. You told yourself. Yes he left before but he’s not a user and he said he had a good reason for what he did, and because it was Billy, you believed him.

“You’ll both need to sign it agreeing that he is in your care for the hospital to feel good about letting him leave this early but of course we can’t make you guys sign it or technically make him stay”

You nodded “I’ll talk to him” and you started to drift off to his room still staring at the form

“I’ll be in shortly before the end of my shift and again tomorrow morning”

You nodded again even though you were nearly at his door already and it was unlikely she could see such a subtle movement of your head from there.

You stepped back into his room and found him back in bed.

“What’s that?” he asked pointing at the paper in your hand

“A form” you said still lost in thought and drifting toward his bed. When you got close enough he reached out and snatched it from your hands.

“Release form?” He questioned his eyebrows scrunching together “I, the undersigned, agree to be released into the care of..” he stopped reading and looked at you “what is this?”

“They think you’ll be all ready to leave the hospital possibly as soon as tomorrow providing you have someone to keep track of you, which they assume will be me”

“Well, yeah. why wouldn’t it be you?”

You opened your mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words to express everything going on in your head.

Billy set the form down and reach out to you with both hands. You took his hands in yours and he pulled a bit so you tipped onto the bed and he pulled you into a tight hug. “I’ll explain everything, where I was, what happened to me, why I-" he paused "everything. I promise. But not here, not now. I fucked up by not telling you about all this as it happened and I’ve regretted it every day since”

You pulled away from him and grabbed the - now slightly crumpled- form from where he’d placed it on his lap and left the room. Billy watched as you left, confused and scared but then you swept back into the room, with a pen in hand and you signed the form. You handed Billy the form and the pen and said, “I’ve gotta go home, see you tomorrow” and you left again leaving Billy in a bit of a daze.

When you got back to the small place you called home, you got nervous. Billy had been your best, well… everything for so many years, he’d seen you at your worst and your best and he’d seen your home in greater disarray than it was now and yet you were nervous about him seeing your life like this. So you cleaned and tidied until you couldn’t think of anything else to dust or move and when you finally went to bed that night you dreamt of Billy. A mix of fact and fiction intertwined in your brain as you slept fitfully. Happy turned to sad, sad turned to confusing and confusing turned to scary until you awoke with a jolt.

witing tag list: @transeliot @sarah0687

want to be added or removed from my writing tag list? just let me know :)

[writingwife-83]

Hii I saw your post about random prompts.

I found number 1 (Sherlock's pov) and 67 (Molly's pov) intriguing.

Feel free to choose whichever one you'd like to take up 😋

Thanks in advance ☺️

Since I already covered #1, I’m going with 67. “Speak for me again, and I’ll punch you in the throat.” Hope you like how I used it! And thanks to @thisisartbylexie who made a suggestion that changed the premise for the better. 🥰

Another Speech

“And so,” John went on. “Let’s all raise our glasses to Sherlock and Molly, who we love and wish all the happiness in the world!”

The small crowd lifted their glasses and agreed with a chorus of “to Sherlock and Molly!”

Molly grinned, leaning into Sherlock and intending to put her arm around him, but found herself surprised as he began to stand.

“Well, I suppose it’s my turn now!” he announced.

“Sherlock!” Molly whispered up at her new husband, tugging at his hand. “You do realize the groom doesn’t give a speech, right?”

“Molly, don’t forget, I’ve done this three times now, ” he replied with a little laugh. “I’ve become a bit of an expert, so it would be a shame to waste the skill at my own wedding!”

Molly glanced over at John who could only shake his head and shrug.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Mary leaned over and questioned in a whisper.

Molly’s eyes went wide. “What? No! Why?”

“Good.” Mary grabbed the bottle and filled Molly’s champagne flute. “Pretty sure you’re gonna need this.”

“Honored guests,” Sherlock addressed. “My wife and I are grateful you could be here today. I confess I hadn’t always much cared for the idea of a wedding and reception, but I’ve been brought round to the idea. I’ve been brought round to a number of things in recent years, I suppose.”

He glanced down and winked at her, making her smile.

“And in thinking about what I might say on this special occasion, I thought you might all enjoy hearing a little story about the first time that I recall beginning to fall in love with Molly Hooper.”

Molly looked at Mary, her brows knitted together in confusion. She could honestly say she had no idea where this was going.

“It was in the first few months that I’d come to London and began working with Scotland Yard,” he continued. “Lestrade and I went to Bart’s to examine a body, and there we met with Dr Hooper and an intern in the morgue. It stood out to me almost immediately that this man, who shall remain nameless, was particularly talkative. More specifically, he was interrupting quite a bit.”

Molly’s lips parted in a little ‘oh,’ finally remembering exactly which occasion Sherlock was describing.

“It seemed that everything Molly said, he either interrupted and explained himself, or once she’d stated her thoughts, he’d restate them as if she needed help clarifying.” He rolled his eyes. “It was irritating enough to witness, but I could also tell that Molly was becoming less and less tolerant of his behavior by the time we were ready to leave.”

Oh she certainly remembered how irritated she was, she thought with a little laugh.

“I actually started to hang back as Lestrade and I were taking our leave. I considered cruelly deducing the man; telling him what a bad relationship he has with his father and how insecure it’s made him in his own masculinity, therefore making him unable to stay respectfully silent when a woman outshines him intellectually.”

A little chuckle rippled through the crowd as everyone there could no doubt envision Sherlock saying exactly that to the man.

“But just as I was about to go back, I heard Molly’s little voice, soft but fierce. She said to him, ‘Speak for me again, and I’ll punch you in the throat.’”

At that the crowd erupted in outright laughter, which Molly couldn’t help but join in.

“There’s clearly plenty of reasons why we get on,” Mary leaned over to whisper.

“I admit to being a bit surprised at that moment, and more than a little impressed. It stirred something in me that I didn’t fully recognize then, but I see it now in hindsight.” Sherlock looked down at his wife and smiled softly. “And I never did step in, because I realized that she really didn’t need me to. In fact, I think I’ve always needed her far more than she’s needed me. But somehow, despite not truly needing me…she did always want me.”

Molly twisting her lips as her eyes started to well with emotion while gazing up at him.

He cleared his throat, as if perhaps becoming emotional as well, and then he lifted his glass. “So here’s to Molly, my wife, one of the strongest people I know, who is more than capable to go through this life on her own, and yet she chooses to do so with me.”

Everyone joined in again and drank to Molly, but she couldn’t see much past the man standing next to her. She stood as well and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close as she sniffed away her tears.

“I love you, you know, and that was a marvelous little speech,” she muttered in his neck. “But I’m afraid you’ve got it wrong.”

“Have I?”

“It is our wedding day, so I suppose I’ll forgive you this time, even though you should know I don’t tolerate people speaking for me,” Molly teased, pulling back and smiling softly. “But don’t you ever forget, Sherlock Holmes…I absolutely do need you.”

[snowdin-shopkeeper]

To clarify how I feel about DSMP anti's in connection to that one anon's question, I'm just going to address a few of their points and then let you connect the rest on your own.

1.) "They're mostly white boys who run around screaming with their little square avatars!"

They are! A lot of them are white! And they do scream quite loudly! Very often! This can be very annoying to people, and that is very valid and understandable! And while there are more poc, the smp isn't the most diverse smp and that can make people uncomfortable as well. (Which is still, valid!)

Tommy literally starts most of his videos with, "most people find me very annoying". It's true! Even I, too, find you occasionally annoying! And you're one of my favorite cc's! And I am completely valid to feel that way!

I can hate Wilbur, Techno, and Tommy, and love Eryn, Fundy, and Callahan! I can do the opposite and hate Eryn, Fundy, and Callahan, while loving Wilbur, Techno, and Tommy! I can hate all of them and just watch it just because I feel like the plot line is so incredibly stupid I can use it as a crack fic inspiration! And that is okay! I am completely entitled to do that! You are completely entitled to do that!

2.) "Dream's a cheater/racist/..etc. ..etc.."

This has been argued about for a while now, and really all I'm going to say is? If he makes you uncomfortable/worse about your gender/identity/yourself as a person?

Do not watch him! Absolutely do not watch him! Do not give him a second glance! You should absolutely take care of yourself than giving random dude on the internet the time of day.

It does not matter if you watch him bc you genuinely like him as a person, or if you believe he is a dirty cheater with the occasional pro gamer move during a manhunt, or don't watch him at all. Do what is best for your mental state.

I am not going to spend much time on this bc I feel like it was covered in the last point, but is deserving to be addressed due to all the controversy. Don't like, don't watch. Stay safe.

3.) "The fandom is worse than Dream himself and should all go jump off a cliff."

The amount of, "you should go k*ll y***self if you're a Dream Stan is concerning? I get that we are absolutely atrocious as a fandom (honestly putting that lightly haha-) but wishing death on someone for going such lengths to defend someone they don't know (bc yes, he may be wrongly accused sometimes, but Dream is a big boy. He can take care of himself) is overkill. But it goes both ways. I've seen time and time again this fandom hop on to posts that they are not wanted.

It does not matter if they are wrong, it does not matter if they are rude, if you are breaking someone else's clearly placed boundaries, then you are absolutely detestable. They are perfectly valid to spit back in your face and block you. Respect and be respected. And even if you're not? That doesn't give reason for you to add to the flames when you were at wrong in the first place.

Now I do have to say: we aren't all bad. I've met amazing mutuals on here (love you all <3<3). Trust me, you can meet amazing people here! But it's your job to control your online experience. People are free to block you for no reason at all, and you are free to block them. Just keep trekking guys.

There is so much more I could address, but I feel these are the main points. So yeah.

[one-boring-person]

Ooh okay i might have figured something out!(this is kind of related to that ask before! So it’s the reader but before the first kiss and everything. )

How about Since Rambo has to fix everything back up in his home and ranch, what about the reader showing up and helping him do so- and asking the man on a date at their own Home? How do you think(headcanon or story wise either way) that date and day would go down?

I feel he’d be very kind of, nervous. But the reader would be very excited and adore him, and i think if would be very cute to see rambo flustered because the reader keeps reminding them how cool they think he is, and how excited they are to see him around more. (Basically just the first date AT the readers ranch home. You decorate or design it to look however you want!!)

Thank you!! And if not, thats fine. (I just crave a good cozy date with old rambo that preferably ends in smooches and him staying over)

Dude, your asks are giving me life at this point! I hope you like this as much as I enjoyed writing it!😊💛❤

I Admire You More.

John Rambo (Rambo IV/V) x reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of death

Masterlist

The sun already feels harsh as it beats down on John's back, his body drenched in sweat from the nearly unbearable heat of it, allowing dust and dirt to stick to him in some places as he hauls timber around the place. Doggedly, he ignores the discomfort of his shirt sticking to his back, focusing instead on getting the heavy materials to the place where he needs them, his muscles straining from the exertion. His hands are somewhat grazed from the rough wood, calluses lining his palms from his years and years of work, each one telling a different story of how they came to be. 

Emerging around the front of the house, John drops his load, grunting with relief as the planks clatter against each other, his arms glad to be free of their burden. Stretching out his back, the veteran glances over at the veranda, where the floor has completely rotted away - he'd been meaning to fix that for a few days now, but necessities like water, electricity and gas had to come first, even if he didn't actually have a bedroom or anywhere totally safe to sleep yet. Having now found time between laying tiles on the roof, which he had tried and found incredibly difficult, John intends to address the problem, so he no longer has to worry about breaking his ankles every time he tries to get in the house.

Sighing, he moves to the frame of the veranda, taking up a hammer and crowbar as he gets to work pulling up the rotted planks already there, grimacing at the sight of the foundations underneath. Even in the slight shade provided by the roof over him, he finds himself heated far too much, beads of sweat rolling down his back with each movement, though he doesn't pay them any mind until a familiar shout pulls him from his thoughts. 

Looking up, he has to bite back a smile as he sees his new friend, (Y/n), riding up the driveway towards him, a broad grin on their face as usual, a hand raised in greeting. Acknowledging them, John lifts his own hand, flicking dark hair from his eyes as he watches the young rancher pull their horse to a halt, the animal instantly responding to their instruction. Once stopped, (Y/n) climbs down, leading the horse behind them as they come nearer to John, still smiling at him as he puts on the most approachable expression he can, still a little uncomfortable about smiling freely at people.

"Mornin' John! How're you doing?" They call out, flicking their Stetson back from over their eyes, a habit he's noticed they do frequently.

"Not bad." He responds, knowing his gruff voice doesn't sound too friendly, though he does try. He likes (Y/n), a lot, and wants the friendship to work out properly, despite the fact he's already managed to develop feelings he thought he'd lost the ability to have for them.

As they grin back at him, he feels a small flare of fondness go through him as he recognises the youthfulness in the expression, a need to protect that near-innocence accompanying it.

"Good, good! What're you up to today? I see you managed to fix the wall up." They remark, gesturing to the patched panelling to his left, where a large hole had appeared in the wall.

"Just fixing the veranda here." He explains, using the hammer to show them what he means, "Yeah, I managed to finish the wall up at some point yesterday."

"Looks good. The wall and the veranda, that is. Is it gonna be a tough job?" They question, head tilting to the side curiously.

"Shouldn't be, but this heat ain't gonna help." John replies, rubbing a hand over his forehead.

They're quiet for a moment, seemingly considering something. Coming to a conclusion, they open their mouth to speak.

"Do you want any help? I'm quite handy with a hammer and nail." They offer, looking somewhat tentative.

Now it's John's turn to stay quiet, his dark eyes fixing the younger person in place as he regards them, thinking it over. 

"Some help would be nice, thanks." He finally concedes, going over to them to help with the horse, which he lets loose into the nearby field with his other.

The smile returns to its place on their face as they follow him back to the veranda, taking up the hammer he offers them, waiting for his instruction as they approach. 

"Just pull up the old boards for now and leave them over there." John instructs them, an odd sensation he hasn't felt in years swelling in his throat as they attentively watch him, following his every move with a look of pure admiration.

"Got it." They nod, moving to a corner to do as they're told, instantly crouching down by a loose plank. With a sharp movement, they jam the hook of the hammer underneath a loose edge, the wood creaking quietly as it is forced out of its original position, nails pulling from rotted beams with some ease. Under their T-shirt, John can see (Y/n)'s arms tensing with each jerk of the hammer, his throat feeling tight as he swallows, mentally reprimanding himself for the unbidden longing that springs to his mind.

Shaking his head, he gets down to work, the two now lapsing into a comfortable silence as they tear up the boards together. The going is faster than he thought it would be, both he and (Y/n) meeting somewhere in the middle of the frame after only an hour of working tirelessly, their brow now coated in a sheen of sweat, just as his is. Their arms are doused in a layer of dust and dirt, smears of grime adorning their forehead from where they've wiped their hand over the damp skin. John once again has to bite back his smile at the sight of the young rancher looking somewhat dishevelled after only an hour of work, the corners of his lips quirking up slightly.

"What? What is it?" (Y/n) interrupts his thoughts, their expression mildly concerned.

"Oh, err, you have a little dirt on your forehead." He clarifies, gesturing to the correlating spot on his own head.

"Oh, whoops." They laugh, lifting a hand to rub at the marks, only making them worse.

"You've made 'em bigger, now." John chuckles, unable to stop himself as he feels a smile cross his face at his friend's antics.

Noticing the change in mood for him, (Y/n) makes a point of wiping their hand more deliberately over the dirt, leaving long striping marks over their skin.

"Maybe that was the point." They grin back, striking a brief pose.

Laughing softly again, John rolls his eyes and shakes his head, the veteran starting to feel a lot more relaxed as (Y/n)'s cheerful demeanour rubs off on him.

"If you say so, Tiger." He comments, briefly moving to grab a nearby cloth that he had placed out exactly for the reason that it is now needed, "C'mere."

Ignoring the butterflies in their stomach from John's clearly more laid-back mood, (Y/n) steps closer to their friend, taking the proffered cloth from him. Wiping it over their forehead, they pull it away again after a moment, looking up to him for reassurance that they got it all.

"You missed a spot." He points out, amused.

Repeating their actions, they once again return their gaze to his, curious. He only shakes his head, taking the cloth from them. Without thinking about what he's doing, John leans in and presses it to their brow, gently rubbing away the stubborn mark, somehow managing to miss the way their eyes widen in surprise. They have to consciously hold themselves back as they go to follow his hand as it withdraws, having enjoyed the older man's touch much more than they should've.

"There, now you're all clean again." John murmurs, eyes flicking back down to theirs.

With a small smile, (Y/n) thanks him, ducking their head down to avoid letting him see the blush dusting their cheeks.

"How'd you wanna do this decking, then?" They ask him after a moment, looking to the pile of timber nearby.

"I'll show you what I had in mind." He says, leading them over to the wood, mentally cursing himself now for being so personal with them, unaware of their true reaction to his actions.

The day passes somewhat quickly, the two working tirelessly to get the veranda as complete as possible. As the time goes on, the sun only gets hotter, leaving them both drenched in sweat and dirt until around five, when the temperature finally starts to drop a little. Having only stopped briefly to eat some cookies that (Y/n) brought with them, the two find themselves incredibly hungry as they finally come to a halt, muscles aching under sun-warmed skin, in dire need of something to drink and a shower. Taking note of his friend's somewhat worse state, John finally stops, putting down his hammer as he pushes his slick hair from his face.

"We should call it a day, we've done enough for now." He says, watching as (Y/n) straightens and stretches before turning to face him, briefly revealing a strip of skin on their abdomen to him as their shirt rides up.

"Sounds good to me." They respond, sounding a little breathless as they crack their knuckles, flexing their wrists.

They seem to consider something, head tilting to the side as they pick their Stetson up from the step they left it on, having taken it off when it got too hot for them. A conflicted look crosses their face, before they seem to shake it off, as if steeling themself.

"Would you, err, would you like to come to mine for drinks?" They ask him, rubbing the back of their neck sheepishly, "You don't have to, I just think it might be, err, nice, seeing as I like your company, and we're both on our own. I have food, too, but you don't have to eat or anything…"

(Y/n)'s voice trails off at John's expression, the veteran somewhat surprised by the offer. 

"You like my company?" Is all he manages, eyebrows lifting.

"Yeah, I do!"

"But...why?" He asks, confused.

"Because you're always friendly, you don't mind listening to me, I hope, anyway. You're kind, caring, funny when you want to be, you're cool as hell and you're really smart, too! I feel safe when I'm around you." (Y/n) gushes, only to slow towards the end when they realise they've gone on a bit, face turning red, "Sorry."

"No, no, don't be." John says, stunned by the compliments, unused to receiving friendly comments like that.

"But yeah, I like your company, and I'd like if we could talk a bit more over drinks or something." His friend explains, looking hopeful.

The veteran finds himself rendered speechless for a long moment, his heart screaming at him to go to (Y/n)'s, to further their relationship, but his brain is telling him no, so he doesn't mess up what they've already got. Internally, he weighs up the options, regarding the younger rancher as they wait patiently for his response. Eventually, it's that that makes his decision for him, the older man knowing that his friend will always be patient with him.

"I'll take you up on the offer." He finally says, unable to help the small smile that creeps onto his face as a wide grin splits (Y/n)'s, their gaze lighting up in happiness. 

"You will? That's great! I'll go get stuff ready." They reply, body practically buzzing with excitement, only for them to glance back after a second, "Do you have a working shower, or do you wanna use mine? I don't mind if you do, I've got plenty of hot water."

"I don't wanna intrude that much…" 

"You're not, don't worry." They reassure him, smiling.

"Ok, then I'll take the shower, too. Mine isn't working so well yet." He agrees, glad that he can finally have a good clean in a working shower.

"Ok, that's fine. Let me just catch Leo, then we can go." They say, heading off to the field, where their horse is grazing idly, having spent the entire day alone as John's other horse was taken inside the stable due to the heat being bad for its underweight body.

"Alright, let me just get some clean clothes." John nods.

Ten minutes later, the two reconvene, starting off on the walk over to (Y/n)'s ranch, the horse trotting quietly beside them as they talk amongst themselves, discussing the animal in question. It doesn't take long for them to reach the main house, (Y/n) briefly tying Leo up outside, saying something about putting him away again in a moment.

"Welcome to my home. Sorry it's a bit messy." They chuckle, opening the door for the veteran, allowing him inside.

It is messy, but the small room looks cosy, the somewhat cramped space giving him a familiar sense of comfort.

"I like it." He compliments, gruff voice soft.

"Thanks." (Y/n) smiles fondly as they look over the area, "The shower's just through here. Take as long as you need, I'm just gonna put Leo away. Oh, and get yourself a glass of water or something if you want it."

"I will do, thanks." The veteran watches as his friend leaves the house again, before he moves off into the shower, choosing to clean himself first, so he can get his racing thoughts in order. 

It's been a long time since anyone showed him the kindness (Y/n) is now showing him, and it's started rubbing off on him, his feeling towards the young rancher steadily getting more and more affectionate. He admired them, their youthful vigour mixed with some past difficulties having combined to create a mature yet fun person, something that reminded him a little of himself when he first joined the Special Forces, all those years ago. They don't quite have the same innocence, but the optimistic view of the world and the people living in it have definitely started to chip away at the barriers around his heart, a defence he built up some time ago to prevent unnecessary pain, but he's not unhappy about it. He hopes they won't escalate, but he knows the friendship is helping him recover from decades of trauma.

Showering quickly but thoroughly, he changes into his clean clothes, before he goes back into the main room, where (Y/n) is waiting for him. Swapping with him, they smile as they go past, disappearing as he takes a seat on the sofa, enjoying the warmth of the room. It smells distinctly of his friend, and reassures him, settling the nerves racing through him. They only spike again when he hears (Y/n) come back into the room, his body tensing as he stands, unsure of what to do.

"You don't have to stand on my account." They chuckle, waving him back to the sofa as they go to the fridge and grab a couple of beers and some food, joining him and handing him a bottle.

Taking it, he waits for them to crack the cap off, taking a deep drink of it as he reaches for some food, the two of them simply eating at first, too hungry to talk much. The food doesn't last long, but it leaves them satiated, the beers soon replaced by more as they start to talk again, both much more relaxed now.

"Did your family always have the ranch?" He asks them, regarding his friend from his comfortable position on the sofa across from them, lidded eyes fixed on them.

"Yeah, it's been in the family as long as I can remember." (Y/n) replies, glancing around the lounge with a proud smile, "I've never left it."

"Really? Didn't you go to university?" John inquires, lifting an eyebrow in surprise.

"No, no. Never had time for it." They explain, biting their lip, "Always had the ranch to run."

John doesn't say anything, watching them closely as they seem to fade into their thoughts, clearly reliving a memory.

"My parents died the year before I was supposed to go. Left the ranch to me because my siblings left for New Orleans and some place in Kansas, so I had to forget about going to university." They reveal sadly, sipping their beer with a grim smile.

"I'm sorry." John says, frowning at the change in mood, having never really seen (Y/n) appear as dejected as they do now.

"Don't be, there was nothing anyone could've done. Besides, this has been the best thing that ever happened to me." They cast John a sideways glance, "I met you, after all."

Cocking his head to the side, John smiles gently, battling with the urges in his head.

"I'm sure your parents would be really proud of you." He murmurs, leaning over to clasp their shoulder lightly.

"Thank you, John." They smile back, their bottle forgotten now as they find their eyes fixed on his, getting themselves lost in their dark depths.

Somehow unable to pull back, John finds himself staring at (Y/n), his body sending him all kinds of urges, his hands practically itching to just wrap around their smaller body and-

Suddenly, a pair of lips are on his, tentatively pressing against them. What feels like electric shocks go through him at the unfamiliar touch, his eyes widening as he instinctively draws back, his body running on instinct, even as he instantly misses the sensation. Terrified eyes find his, horror etched into a face he's come to love and admire.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry! I don't know what I was doing, I fucked up, I'm so sorry!" (Y/n) instantly apologises, scrambling to pull out of his space, convinced they made things awkward, when John knows full well it was his own fault, "Please forgive me, John, please! I'm so sorry-"

"Don't apologise, (Y/n). You didn't do anything wrong. You just caught me by surprise, is all." John tries to reassure them, but they don't seem to hear it, only panicking more as they try to get up.

Knowing they won't listen to him now, John swallows, before he swiftly leans out, wrapping his hands around (Y/n)'s waist. They have split second to look surprised, until they find themselves being pulled onto the veteran's lap, lips connecting again.

This time, the touch is much more desperate, John pressing as close as he can, relishing in the contact as he feels his friend relax into his touch, melting against him as their hands slide round his neck into his hair, pulling his head closer. Groaning lowly, he uses his grip on their hips to press them flush together, kisses becoming more insistent as pleasure, relief and love fill him, his body feeling like it hasn't done in decades. He can feel them everywhere: their hands in his hair, their lips smoothing against his, their legs wrapping around his waist, their scent enveloping him as he kisses them. Under his palms, he can feel their muscles tensing and relaxing, the veteran hesitantly pushing his hands past the hem of their shirt to feel bare skin against bare skin, keeping them at their hips as they moan quietly. As the sound escapes them, their mouth opens slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue in, sliding in alongside theirs.

John presses closer, eventually pushing them back onto the sofa, (Y/n)'s body cradled underneath him as he continues to explore their mouth with his tongue. Breaking apart for air, they stare at each other, a familiar smile creeping onto their lips as they look up at him, love and adoration flooding their gaze. Gently, they card their fingers through his hair, taking one hand to trail their index finger along his cheek, tracing over the scar on his cheek, a fond look on their face.

"God, you have no idea how much I've dreamed about kissing you." They confess, voice quiet.

"You have?" He questions, his rough voice resonating through (Y/n) where their chests are touching.

"Yeah. I admire you so much, your bravery, your courage, your strength, both mentally and physically. You're too good to have been treated as poorly as you have been, and I've always wanted to show you that, but I never knew how." They murmur, cupping his face as he goes to look away, blushing, "It's true. You're a better person than I'll ever be, and you must've proved that hundreds of times. There's no one else I'd rather have as a friend, or even more than that if you'll have me."

Eyes wide, John doesn't know how to reply initially, his head spinning at what he's hearing, every fantasy he's ever had since he met his new friend suddenly flashing past his eyes in much higher clarity as he realises that they like him as much as he likes them - loves him as much as he loves them. 

Unsure of how else to respond, John dips his head back down and connects their lips again, pouring all of his unspoken words across connection, feeling euphoric as he once again relishes in the knowledge that they are actually there, and it's not his imagination. Kissing back, (Y/n) smiles into his lips, pressing closer.

After a moment, John pulls away again, looking over (Y/n)'s face one last time before he drops down beside them, pulling their smaller body into his. Instinctively, they curl into him, hand resting on his chest as their face presses into his neck, smiling contentedly. Wrapping his arm around their waist, John holds them close to him, burying his face in their hair as they both feel fatigue starting to envelope them, pulling them both into a comfortable sleep. Just as they go to drift off, John whispers to (Y/n).

"You don't admire me nearly as much as I admire you. I love you. So much." His voice is husky, lulling them sleep.

For the first time in years, John does not jolt awake halfway through the night, his sleep undisturbed by nightmares.

[thecirculararchive]

Hey!! I know it’s been a bit, but it’s the weekend and I can finally address what an endogenic recently got very angry at me for. I’m sorry I had neither the time nor energy to respond to you originally, and that it led to quite the argument over a vauge post.

I do actually regret how that day went. I wish I could’ve had the time and energy to respond, and tbh at I hadn’t been quite as upset. I just felt as though you were demonizing my response (the one where I was attempting to be funny about the fact that I didn’t have the time or energy to rehash something I’ve said for years.) I do apologize for my behavior.

Hopefully I can clarify my stance again here.

The syscourse in question: I was asked if I was a sysmed. I’m not! :) I believe that Endogenics can exist. But I would like to see evidence of this. I think that the majority of Endogenics are actually experiencing OSDD / DID, or some unrelated disorder. This stance has actually always been in my (lengthy) pinned post.

Someone took issue to this for multiple reasons. The biggest, I believe, being that I was holding the onus on Endogenics to prove they existed. To this, I have multiple complaints.

1. Once again, I believe you can exist! That isn’t a problem for me. You don’t need to prove it - I already believe you could exist.

2. Me wanting proof does not mean YOU need to show me the proof. I wouldn’t expect an OSDD / DID system to “prove” they exist, any less than I expect Endogenics to do so. I was simply expressing that I would like proof, especially considering that there has been a good amount of research into OSDD / DID.

3. Continuing off of that thought, I feel that many Endogenics are actually experiencing OSDD / DID. I wish more endos would reach out for education, rather than malice. It was where I switched my blog direction into going once I became Endo Neutral. Learning more about my disorder has really helped me heal.

4. The discussion of sources also led to general anger about being forced to admit trauma, since I believe Endogenics are (majority, anyways) traumagenic systems who have forgotten their trauma. Well. No! You don’t need to recognize your trauma, or even remember it. That’s why it’s not diagnostic criteria to remember your trauma. I don’t expect anyone to remember it. But asking yourself if it’s possible that you have trauma is the first step towards healing.

Gah, I’m already forgetting the rest, and my free time is running low already!! If anyone wished to have a conversation (not harassment or an argument) about this topic, feel free to respond. And to that person who got upset - I’m sorry I caused you turmoil. I should’ve been kinder and taken time out of my class period to respond in a more appropriate manner to the original post. ❤️

[askyourwritergrandma]

I'm super excited for this blog!

Transitions are hard, writing grandma. How do you keep a scene from dragging and going stagnant when you have a lot you need to convey from point to point?

Hello first anon! I'm absolutely excited about this blog as well. I'm here to answer questions but also hopefully to encourage discussions (so if my advice doesn't address your need feel free to send me another ask to clarify).

First off, transitions are hard for many reasons. I have been personally defeated by transitions several times, and it usually involves a good deal of laying my head on the desk questioning my life's choices that led me to this moment. If you're facing that kind of situation, I have been there and still continue to find myself there now and again.

So, to THE ADVICE:

Take a moment away from the scene and writing to think about how much information you're trying to convey and if it actually needs to be conveyed immediately or all at once. Its natural to feel like the reader needs to know everything at once and/or we need to get all of our details in because we spent a long time coming up with those details and they matter. But, if you are trying to squeeze a great deal of information and detail into a very small space, it doesn't always fit.

A lot of scenes involve conversations, and a lot of times we use dialogue between characters to get all of our exposition in. Say you're writing a scene and you have to let the readers know that John Doe is probably secretly bad but also Susan Anthony is onto him and his shenanigans but also they used to date, but also, also there's a bomb but also also the bomb maker is probably John Quincy Adams who has had it in for John Doe ever since they met at the "Hi My Name is John" Convention and you can make all that fit in your scene but you've gotten yourself stuck like this:

"I take it all back!" John Doe screamed, throwing out his arms in defeat. "You're right, Susan! I never loved you and I never could. We both know the only thing you've ever cared about is social justice! I'm a white man living in a white man's world and I love my privilege!" "I know that you idiot. Of course I know that! We've never made love with the lights on because you cannot stand the site of me nor my statement sash. At least you can finally admit to yourself that you're proud of your privilege, you pig!" A ticking interrupted the shouting match between the two. It appeared to be coming from a satchel left in the corner that had gone unnoticed until this moment. John Doe's eyes were draw to it immediately and he gasped, "my god Susan, it's a bomb!" Susan rushed over to the bag, ripped it open and peered inside. The mechanism could only possibly have been made by John Quincy Adams as it had been signed (quite literally) in sharpie. From outside the room, Stacy Adamson could hear the wail of Susan Anthony rising over the steady ticking of what had to be a well-crafted bomb meant to exact revenge for an unknown crime, "I told you! I told you to stop inflicting your deplorable lack of sexual prowess on other people, John. Now look what you've done, you've killed us all." And then, like a prophecy fulfilled, the bomb exploded. Everyone was dead instantly.

(This example is intentionally comedic and nonsensical.)

At this point because our focus is so intently on this conversation and the obviously very passionate feelings between our two mains, anything that moves us away from this conversation feels unnatural. Obviously this is a very high-emotion scene with shouting and drama, so your transition might be less about the discovery of a bomb and something quieter and more sedate but most problems with transitions come from the moment of transition feeling awkward or unnatural.

The unfortunate news is by the time you get to the moment where your transition feels awkward, there's almost no easy fix for it. You can push through and let that transition be as awkward as it needs to be because editing is always, always, always an option. If you're capable of struggling through (or even just leaving a notation like [TRANSITIONAL MOTION HERE]) when you came back through having written the before and after part of the scene you might have a clearer idea of how your transition needs to work.

If you're me, and you cannot struggle through, the answer is usually behind you. Your scene is either not equipped to handle the amount of information that you're using it to convey, it's not set up for any kind of natural transition or it just doesn't work at all for reasons only the writing gods know.

Some scenes are better equipped for transitions, anything that allows your characters to be active will make sharing info and transitioning easier because they can literally get up and move and that allows you to give yourself breathing room because if you feel your scene is stagnant and you need something else, you can have John Doe get up and pace the room, let him throw his hands around, let him kick a wall. Instead of having them discover a bomb sitting in the room, have it be thrown through a window? Have someone open a door and toss it in?

If you've added action, or action is not available and cannot help you, consider toying with how time moves in the scene. The one type of transition that pisses me off the most is when the characters are in one place but they have to physically move to another location and I need it to happen without doing a scene break but how boring is writing "And then he walked across the street, entered his vehicle, started it, drove six miles and arrived at his destination on the right where he would resume screaming about what a bad lay Susan Anthony was."

The good news? I don't need all that. You can summarize the whole trip from one place to another kind of like this:

Chad pushed open John Doe's door without so much as a polite knock. He was winded, as if he had run up all thirty three steps to his office at the top of the stairs. Still, with limited breath he managed to say: "Susan's at the local Starbucks chatting it up with the baristas about what a tiny penis you have! Why didn't you tell me John? I would have invited you to the teeny weenie anon group that meets in the YMCA basement on Thursdays!" "Because it's not true, man!" John Doe shouted back. He was moved by rage itself, ripping his coat from the rack by his door as he pushed past Chad. His anger sustained him, driving him from the air conditioned comfort of his office to the bean-soaked interior of the so-called-coffee shop. And when he arrived, he saw her, standing tall and proud in her outdated getup, laughing snidely with a group of chittering women. Her cheeks as pink as cherries as she said, "oh it's true, ladies. Barely felt a thing, I could have read a whole novel in the time it took him to finish." "Susan! Stop these lies at once!" John roared.

Sometimes, summarizing action that moves you from one spot to another is the easiest course because nothing of importance happened between the two places. Or, put a different way, nothing of importance NEEDS to happen. It's absolutely true if I were to actually write out the entire sequence that took John Doe from his office to the Starbucks, I would definitely find things that happened, and probably none of them would be worth the time it took to write them because it would all be filler.

Also, though it pains all of us writers so, consider simply cutting out the paragraphs that drag you down. Most of those paragraphs drag because we are filling them with things that don't need to exist in your story. Even if it feels like you absolutely need to relay the entire history of Susan Anthony's middle school science project in that moment, you don't. If it drags, it's probably dead weight and you need to copy it and move it to a separate document where all of the things that don't quite fit go. Reread the scene after you've done that and see if it moves more naturally.

If it does? Huzzah, congrats, you're on your way to developing a smooth scene with a logical transition and you are winning at life.

If it does not, if adding movement, toying with time, cutting the fat doesn't help then you need to consider completely scraping the scene that you're working on and putting them either in a different setting, at a different time, or using a different POV. Think about setting up the moment with a slightly different emotion from the character/a slightly different conflict for the scene or add/subtract people from the scene.

Hopefully some of this helped? If it did huzzah! If this is not the type of transition you meant and/or I'm way off base please tell me. If you've got a set example that you're thinking of I would love to see it.

Thanks again!

[blackrabbittwst]

Hi, i don't know if you still receive request, but can i request a Vil and Malleus knowing their s/o is part of the Agriche family from the way to protect the female leads older brother. And i don't know if is too much but can i also request from a vampire knight and twisted wonderland crossover, Lila, Malleus and Vil reaction or whatever after knowing his s/o is part of the pureblood family, the Kuran's and how they will lead ir take that and knowing to the tradition of the pureblood's to marry their siblings, and to know their partner is in the love triangle (Zero, Kaname and Yuuki) and possible candidate to marry Yuuki.

Male reader, sorry if i bother you

Sorry if there are any mistakes English is not my first language.

Hello vzxxwii! So my box is closed at the moment since I have quite a few requests to get to, but feel free to resend me these prompt when I do re-open!

However I will mention two things about your prompt:

if you could send each request separately that would be wonderful (To Clarify, send me a request with ONLY the Roxanna webtoon prompt then make another request and have that be ONLY the Vampire Knight prompt. It helps with making sure a post only included one story at a time and helps with organization)

I actually haven’t read Vampire Knight since… 2013? I never finished it nor have I reread it in almost 10 years, so I do not know if I would be the best person to accurately write this prompt. I wouldn’t mind writing the concept of S/O being of Kuran blood but I do not know how I feel about writing with the concept of adding other characters from other Fandoms, if that makes sense? I am aware that a few imagine blogs will do crossovers, but usually they are multi-fandom imagine blogs in the first place. Basically I do not think I would be qualified to write a prompts about Vampire Knight. Also there is the issue that the Kuran’s and marrying within the family is incest, which I would rather not talk about or address in this blog. To sum up this point, if you do resend a second prompt, I recommend writing the crossover portion of the prompt with another series (feel free to PM me and ask what I have seen recently, I watch a lot of anime).

Also your English is decent so no need to apologize. I hope that what I am saying is not confusing for you though. Please reach out if you have any questions.

[karlyfr13s]

Oathkeeper, Chapter 3

Thank you: @veryverynotgood my phenomenal beta--you keep me going when I'm busy wallowing in doubt, and you make me less of a walking run-on (hooray!).

Bless y'all: the CSMM Discord crew--it's like a community of flails, encouragement, and collaboration...such magic!

Head's up: No description of violence nor abuse; however, they are mentioned.

AO3 Links: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Most days, Killian occupied himself either by helping Granny with the more physically taxing chores around the inn and diner or on board his ship ensuring her seaworthiness. Granted, the Jolly was in top form and she certainly had no need of repairs nor did she have a heading before her; but it quieted his mind to see to her every need and to painstakingly mend every frayed hem of a sail and worn bit of paint. Lately, he’d taken to wandering Storybrooke as Granny increasingly gave tasks over to young Felix.

The boy was coming along, a bit less surly now. Killian was certain this was due to Ruby’s unending praise of his efforts--no sixteen year-old lad could resist her charms. He’d had a hard time containing his laughter when he witnessed the latest scene: Ruby, clad in a button-down shirt she must have sewn onto herself each morning, batting her eyes at young Felix as she asked for his help bringing up kegs from the cellar. The boy had practically tripped over his own feet as he scrambled to assist, then struggled mightily as he puffed up the stairs with a metal cylinder that likely outweighed his slight frame. Killian had watched as Felix professed the task “no problem”, but had also seen his eyes widen to immense saucers when Ruby cheerfully called there were only “five more to go”. At that, Killian offered his assistance quietly, assuring the boy Ruby would never know that he had not fulfilled the task single-handedly. She was occupied cleaning up after the lunch crowd filtered out, so Killian helped Felix make short work of the task before ducking out the back and allowing the young man credit for the entire endeavor.

Today, however, there was little for him to do and it made Killian antsy. He took to wandering the shore as his mind drifted to the Crocodile, the Princess, and the confusion of his present state of affairs. His increasingly cloudy thoughts were interrupted by a shouted “Ahoy, Captain Hook!” and Killian’s eyes snapped to a strange wooden contraption where young Henry Mills stood, waving to him and grinning from ear to ear.

“Good afternoon,” he sketched a brief bow to the boy as he stepped up to what he now realized was Henry’s castle. Emma had mentioned it in passing as the place the young lad took refuge in his own thoughts, an all-too-familiar notion for Killian. “I was given to understand this time of day was set aside for studies, lad. Or am I mistaken?” He raised an eyebrow up at the boy who shook his head, informing Killian school had ended an hour ago.

“My moms are busy though,” he explained simply. “Regina has a meeting with someone who wants to open a new store, and Emma is in the mines because ‘ the dwarves are flipping out about some property rights ’.” Killian chuckled at the boy’s impression of his mother. He was invited into Henry’s castle where the two sat and looked out at the waves lapping against the shore. At first, the conversation was largely Henry reporting out about his school day. It seemed he was struggling with something math-related, and while Killian’s formal schooling was long behind him, he did offer the boy assistance.

“If, that is, your parents will allow it,” he added quickly, unsure where he stood in the strange dynamic of this town and particularly this family.

Henry snorted at that. “Regina might get weird about it, but she’s trying to make up for the whole...Evil Queen thing, so I think I can manage one mom. The other mom…” he shrugged “I don’t think she’d mind as long as I’m not asking her the math questions. She said it was her least favorite subject in school.”

Killian steeled himself for his next question, taking a deep breath and levelling his gaze at Henry. “And your father?”

Henry made a face at that. “I don’t really know,” he admitted in a tone Killian couldn’t quite decipher. “He was supposed to pick me up from school today,” Henry tucked up his knees and rested his chin on them in a pose Killian had seen Emma take up as well. It seems they both made themselves smaller in these moments of questioning.  “I don’t know if he forgot, or if something came up...I don’t think he knows what to do with me.” Henry peeked up at Killian, looking so uncertain of himself that it nearly broke the man’s heart. He knew what it was to feel on uneven ground with one’s father, to feel more a burden than a blessing, and he refused to allow Henry’s mind to wander those dark halls. While he could offer no real comfort when it came to the man Neal seemed determined to remain, he could offer a promising distraction that should spark young Henry’s curiosity.

“Well, whatever may be delaying him, it certainly has come at an opportune moment for me. Would you care to join me on board the Jolly , Master Mills? It’s past time she received an inspection from a keen eye such as yours.” The boy’s face lit up immediately and he jumped up, grabbing a device from his jacket pocket. After a moment’s pause, Killian heard a tinny version of Emma's voice as Henry hurriedly explained the plan to his device, suppressing a smile as Henry rolled his eyes at his mother’s questions.

“Yes, we’ll stay in the harbor,” he glanced at Killian who nodded along. “Yes, I will stay away from the railing and listen to everything--did you just call him Killian ? That’s weird, Mom, he’s a Captain...well, you’re supposed to address him by title because it’s his ship, of course…yes, yes, no….Mom, I’m not gonna die. I’m gonna go around the harbor with a master sailor…”

Killian knew the lad had won out when a rushed series of ‘thank you’s’ left his mouth before he tucked the device away once more. “She says, ‘tell The Captain that if you come back with one hair out of place, I’ll shave his off with David’s longsword’. She’s just being weird, I know we’re gonna be great--let’s go!” The lad took hold of Killian’s hook and led him down the small stairs onto the sand, setting off in the direction of his ship.

Once aboard, Henry was clearly overcome with curiosity. His return trip from Neverland hadn’t afforded him much time to explore or ask questions. In fact, he’d largely been asleep from pure exhaustion. For Killian, the afternoon with Henry was a remarkable chance to see his ship through the eyes of another. The boy’s questions seemed endless, and while they started with simple questions of identification--what parts of the rigging were called, the names of the various decks and quarters--they quickly expanded to encompass how everything came together to make her sail. His enthusiasm was infectious, and it brought Killian so fully out of his earlier sour mood that it nearly felt like Henry had his own kind of magic.

“Okay, but how do you get up to the crow’s nest?” Henry scrutinized the location through narrowed eyes. Killian stepped in behind him, pointing out the most logical route through the rigging. “Cool! Can I try?”

“I...don’t think that’s wise, lad. I prefer my head firmly attached, and your mother may well remove it if she finds out I let you free-climb the rigging.” Henry turned to face him, a mischievous smirk on his face as he intoned that she didn’t have to know about it.

“While I appreciate the enthusiasm, I need her to like me far better than she does before I conspire against her wishes. A rogue can only get away with so much when it comes to the tenacity of a mother,” he winked, and hoped like hell the boy would let it go. Of course, as Emma’s child he should have known that would be improbable at best.

“Oh, she likes you well enough.” Killian furrowed his brow at this while Henry grinned. Obviously the lad knew how to catch his attention, though just how aware he was of what Killian felt for Emma was still unclear-- the notorious Captain Hook, bested by a child . “You earned a ton of points with her in Neverland,” Henry clarified. “I know she didn’t tell me everything, but she did tell me you saved my grandpa, and I already know you saved me. Since she just got this part of her family back, you gotta know that earned you like...a million points in her eyes. You could totally stand to lose a few of them and teach me how to get up there.”

It took Killian another five minutes to finally persuade Henry that rather than risk a broken arm, or worse, he should simply ask Emma for permission before he learned to scout from above. The cost of negotiations wasn’t much, Henry simply wanted to learn to steer the ship, and so Killian guided him in his quest as they toured the harbor together. The lad had adventure in his blood, that much Killian was certain of, and it seemed he just might be falling in love with the sea as well. The idea tugged at Killian’s heart, as did the pure joy he saw in the boy’s face when they returned to port after the successful little journey.

After receiving a message on his device, Henry mentioned needing to return to his grandparents’ loft, and Killian was happy to escort him, listening to Henry’s re-telling of their afternoon on the Jolly and basking in the shared moment. To hear Henry tell it, you’d think they’d travelled across a realm or two rather than simply around Storybrooke’s small harbor.  He wondered how the boy would tell it to his mother and what she would think. Would she be angry at Killian and think he had overstepped? Would Henry mention his father’s neglect today?

His thoughts were interrupted when they arrived at the door and Henry flung his arms around Killian. He hesitated only a moment before returning the fierce embrace. “Thanks, Captain,” the boy grinned up at him. “Next time, I’m going up that rigging though. And I’m learning how to use your spyglass up there, right? I wanna see everything--as far out as I can!”

Killian chuckled, “So long as you have it in writing from your mother, aye lad.”

---

Two nights later, Killian awoke to someone pounding on his door in the middle of the night and he bolted upright, grabbing his hook from the bedside table as he crossed the pitch-black room. He swung the door open to reveal a distraught Emma Swan, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and her fingers tapping an uneven rhythm at her side.

“I didn’t know where else to go, but I couldn’t stay in that loft for another minute,” she explained, voice cracking. “Can I come in?”

Killian stepped aside, allowing her to pass before he followed and shut the door behind them, clicking on the lamp by the bed and sitting down. There was little room, and she took a spot near him on the bed, her right leg bouncing as she stared down at the floor. He gave her a moment, but when she showed no signs of relaxing he gently spoke her name, “Swan?” Her leg stilled and she looked up, tears tracking down her cheeks. “Swan, what’s wrong?”

As he waited for her response, Killian wracked his memory--what had happened over the course of the last few days? He’d seen her in the diner each morning when she picked up her coffee and there had been no hint of whatever was on her mind. He’d run into her at the library when Henry was doing research for a school project and he was reading up on this realm’s history, but she’d been perfectly fine and that was only yesterday. They’d even discussed finding volunteer work for Felix as he was starting to grate on Granny’s nerves, Swan mentioning it may be best if the boy also enrolled in school. What could have changed so much since yesterday? He searched her eyes and waited, hoping she would reveal the problem in due time.

“I yelled at them,” she murmured at last, dropping her eyes back to the floor.

“Pardon? At whom?” He’d seen Emma yell at a fair number of people, himself chief among them, and didn’t recall her reacting in this way before.

“My parents,” she clarified, “I yelled at Snow White and Prince Charming of all people, and I know I hurt them...she was crying when I left the loft, but I was just...I was so angry with them that I couldn’t, I mean, I can’t be there right now.” She sniffed, and Killian saw her shoulders start to shake. He took a risk, trying his hand at comfort when he slipped an arm around her shoulders and to his surprise she willingly leaned into him. Silence fell between them. He knew there was far more to the story, but wanted to let her move at her own pace and tell it in her way rather than pry it out of her.

She wiped her eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths. “I’m sorry I woke you up,” she started, “I don’t know what I was doing, I just had to get out and you were the only person I thought might answer the door this late.”

“Always available to help a lady in distress, Swan,” he tried a light jest and was rewarded with poke to his ribs. “Oww--just going to wake a man up and bruise him in his own room?” He pulled back to smile at her and she immediately scooted away, a blush blossoming on her cheeks. It was then he realized they’d never shared a touch that gentle and intimate. Yes, they had kissed-- and gods what a kiss it was --but moments before he’d been granted permission to hold her. It was just the two of them in the quiet hours of the night, and she had spent these vulnerable moments cradled against his bare chest. He cleared his throat and asked softly, “What was it that upset you so? Is there something I can do to help?”

She shook her head, tucking her legs under her as she chewed her bottom lip. With a huff, she continued. “They asked if I wanted to have family dinner, and that’s kind of...new, but I went with it. So Regina dropped Henry at the loft and I thought it was going to be--anyway, it wasn’t what I thought. Neal showed up ten minutes later.” She was picking at the quilt on the bed and wouldn’t meet Killian’s eyes, probably for the best given the sneer he couldn’t quite hide. “I didn’t want to make a scene in front of Henry, so I just went along with things at dinner. I figured I could deal with a couple of hours, plus the kid is a hell of a buffer and good at keeping everyone talking, but I know he didn’t show up the other day when you and Henry went sailing. I know when Henry talks Neal only half listens.” She paused for a long while, and Killian crossed the room, offering her the flask he pulled from the pocket of his greatcoat.

She took a swig and rolled her shoulders, visibly trying to relax before turning back to face him. After a soft word of thanks, she continued. “When Henry left, Neal stuck around. My parents offered him a nightcap and asked if he’d like to stay over .” It didn’t take the experience of Dr. Hopper to see she was disturbed by this. “And I lost it. I am so sick of their meddling, and their bizarrely perfect vision of him that I completely snapped. I spit out the whole story--”

Killian sat up straighter at this, aware she’d built up momentum and certain he was about to have another piece of the puzzle that was Emma Swan click into place.

“How he’d preyed on a goddamn homeless teenager, offering her shelter when he knew she didn’t have any of her own. How he knocked up a fucking seventeen year old and left her to rot in jail for his crimes, never bothering to admit his own guilt, never checking in to learn he’d fathered a child,” her tears flowed freely and her eyes blazed like emerald fire. “I told them the truth. That he was a predator, and I was too young and stupid to know better, and that I didn’t have the luxury of having anyone to warn me about people like him, of having anyone who cared enough to see the situation for what it was.”

Her breathing hitched and Killian instinctively reached for her, pulling her into a tight embrace and stroking her hair as she lost the final shreds of her composure. She sobbed against him and he murmured to her small comforts, that it would be all right and she didn’t have to be alone. After a while, her sobs diminished, lessening to sniffles and gasping breaths. He rubbed slow circles on her back and she finished her tale, tone empty and defeated, “I told them exactly what I finally realized: that I was abused by the man they keep inviting into our family, and that I cannot be in that place if they really think I’m supposed to patch things up with him and act like none of this happened, like it didn’t matter that he used me and threw me away.”

His heart broke for her, eyes stinging with unshed tears as he listened to the culmination of her loss and pain. “I don’t know how to face them again,” she mumbled against Killian’s chest, sagging against him in complete exhaustion. He assured her she needn’t think of that now, that what she needed was rest. And he offered to share the space with her. She nodded quietly, taking the offered shirt and pants and leaving to change in the adjoining bathroom.

Killian lay back, propped up on a pillow while his mind processed all she’d told him. He knew without a doubt her parents would mend this relationship, though it may well take time. He knew as well that whatever he’d promised Neal, that oath had been needless. In fact, the larger problem Killian now faced was how to make it through the next twenty-four hours without gutting Neal with his hook. The man had taken advantage of Emma, had framed her for his crime, and had abandoned her. It seemed Bae had become his father after all, and that did not bode well for him in Killian’s eyes.

His violent contemplations were interrupted by a bashful looking Emma, clad all in his own black attire and softly padding across the small room. “I’ll take the side by the door, Swan. Old habits, you know,” he nodded toward the cutlass by the bed and his hook which once again lay atop the nightstand. She smiled sheepishly as she slid under the covers next to him, offering a soft word of thanks and curling up with her back to him. He clicked off the light, desperately hoping she couldn’t hear the pounding of his heart as Killian tried like hell to fall back asleep.

Thanks for reading! Tagging the usual suspects: @kmomof4, @teamhook, @gingerpolyglot, @hollyethecurious, @caught-in-the-filter, @lonelyspectator12, @donteattheappleshook

[unmanageable-day]

Can I Love?

CHAPTER 6

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Summary. Lee Y/N was the first love of one when he was a middle schooler. He never knew her name and he never saw her again. Several years later, he met her again …unfortunately under a disadvantaged circumstances.

Warnings: i think none (but please feel free to call me out if there's anything that makes you uncomfortable)

TAGLIST. @boogyuu​ @samemagicpoint​ [ hit me up if you're interested to be tagged for the next update ♡ ]

Unusually the cafetaria was packed today. Mingyu, Seokmin, Minghao and you were standing a bit further from the queuing point. Your eyes were scanning all over the place, trying to find empty spots. Just right then, someone raised a hand and shouted Mingyu's name.

"Oh, Hyung!" Mingyu waved back at him.

You found Jeonghan and Joshua waved vigorously at your direction. You bowed your head greeting back towards them. Beside the twin like buddies, sat Seungcheol, who barely turned his head, in a quite slouchy manner. Mingyu jogged towards the older guys, spoke for a while and went back to you and your peers.

"Jeonghan hyung said we could share a table with them," Mingyu said rather excitedly. Seokmin quickly agreed. Both of them carefully read your expression, which apparently in a poker face mode.

You shook your head. "I'm not that hungry. You guys go eat. I'll just grab something from the convenience store."

"I'll go with you, Y/N," uttered Minghao. He and you waved good bye to Mingyu and Seokmin as you both left the cafetaria, chattering and giggling with some playful gestures shared between you. At least that was what caught Seungcheol's attention now that Mingyu and Seokmin joined him and his friend.

"What about Lee Y/N and Xu Minghao?" asked Jeonghan as Mingyu and Seokmin took their seats.

Mingyu cleared his throat. "They don't really fancy when it's crowded like this."

"Does Y/N perhaps feel uncomfortable with us?" asked Jeonghan again. "Or one of us?"

Mingyu and Seokmin were caught off guard when they immediately looked at Seungcheol as the first response to Jeonghan's question.

"I guess you knew what happened between him and her," muttered Joshua.

All four of them exchanged looks with each other. Mingyu and Seokmin were not sure if they should start talking again. Seungcheol had been keeping his mouth shut and didn't seem like he was gonna talk soon.

"Mingyu, Seokmin, this friend over here," Jeonghan started again as he landed a hard pat on Seungcheol's shoulder. "He sometimes is very shy. And let me tell you, he feels very guilty about his note book incident so he wants to apologize but he is too shy."

Joshua nodded. "That's why, Mingyu, Seokmin, can you help us?"

—

After days and days of contemplation, Seungcheol found himself wandering around Doremi Bakery. He had been encouraging himself to walk in confidently, start small talks with the owner, and attempt to introduce himself as your friend ...yet he immediately retreat because he was doubting himself.

Friend? I don't even know her but her name.

Classmate? We're not even in the same major and I never met her until last month.

'I want to get to know Lee Y/N because I have a crush on her'? That sounds weird. They will think I'm a stalker.

'I'm a regular customer who met Y/N when we were little'? That also sounds weird.

"Hello, can I help you?" A friendly voice and a light tap on Seungcheol's shoulder successfully startled him.

"Shit!" he cursed in shock. His legs almost gave up as he bent down, his hands on his chest as if keeping his heart still in the right place. "Oh my God. Sorry, I didn't mean to..." he said, making eye contact to a definitely younger guy than him.

"No, it's okay. I'm sorry to surprise you. I've been watching you walk back and forth. Are you perhaps looking for an address?" the smaller guy asked with an innocent look.

Good. At least he doesn't think that I'm a weirdo.

"Yes. No. Uhm, I mean yes. Uh, there's this bakery that used to be in Daegu. I heard they just moved around here?"

Right. Just a little lie would do no harm. He had been there twice. Apparently when he went there, the ones in shift were always the workers. Only the first time when he got the chance to meet Mr. Lee, the owner.

The smaller guy beamed. "That's us."

Seungcheol pretended to look at the store sign. "Oh, right!" he exclaimed. "I forgot the exact place, although I just went here last week."

"Come on in. I'm Chan by the way."

A familiar and somewhat calming aroma from the freshly baked breads welcomed Seungcheol as he stepped into the store. His eyes scanned the room, searching for nothing.

"Chan? The youngest, right? And if I'm not mistaken, when you were little, you also were kinda obsessed with dinosaurs?"

He chuckled. "Used to be. I'm middle child now. And no, I'm not obssessed with dinosaurs, I just collected dolls and figurines of dinosaurs." Beaming wide, he can't help but asking, "But, how did you know that?"

A little smile pursed on Seungcheol's lips. "I'm Seungcheol. My family used to be a regular customer of this bakery."

As usual, Chan was always warmly welcome older guys and kept them in conversation with him. As for Seungcheol, he gladly kept the younger company since there was definitely something in it for him. Then he heard your voice shouting that you're coming home and Chan welcomed you. His heart starts racing to the thought of he's about to see you. He hoped this time he could introduce himself properly and clarify things between you.

"Noona, come here. There's someone I want you to me—"

Seungcheol slowly turns his head to your direction, only for his smile to be disappeared instantly when he noticed you came accompanied with someone else. Xu Minghao.

"Chan, I gotta go. See you later, okay?" Seungcheol hurriedly grabbed a paperbag full of bread and managed to cover his face when he escaped.

Shit, why did I run away? Geez, but that Xu Minghao.. I thought he has a laser in his eyes. Why did he look at me so intensely..