#SOW Spend Management

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

you’re married— but is it really a marriage if it’s sexless and loveless? stuck with a man that’ll touch the town easies but not you and in house backing the woods is not the way you thought your life would turn out. maybe you’re losing your mind— all alone and vulnerable at night, but sometimes, sometimes you swear there’s something whispering in the trees.

it’s only a matter of time before he comes.

remmick x reader

the first night something doesn’t feel quite right comes with your husband leaving with a quick kiss to your head— hushing the question of where he’s going quickly and firmly. he’ll be back before the morning.

he’s lying— he’ll come home before the sun gets it’s hottest, reeking of booze and cheap perfume.

it never changes.

you’ve perched in your beautiful bay window, large and wide and decorated the exact way you’d imagined it when you were young. it faces the woods off your back porch and provides you with the exact amount of happiness you need to be quiet about why you spend your nights alone.

your own little piece of heaven.

you’ve cracked the middle one, the weather finally changing from that wet heat to something less sweltering, less of a heat that leaves your nape wet when you sit too long. this heat is comforting, wrapping you up like a cozy blanket. you recline, bringing your knees up close. you take a deep breath of fresh air and try to tempt your mind to anything besides where your husband is.

that’s when it starts— so quiet you can’t even make out the words. you must be imagining it.

you’re used to whispers. quiet jabs about how you’re still childless because your womb must be filled with rot. whispers about how you must have never learned how to keep a man happy— that’s why your husband never stays home.

but these whispers feel different, comforting. it’s like a song that flutters in with the breeze. your eyes close, you could fall asleep— it’s the first real time you’ve felt anything but true lonely melancholy since your papa pawned you off like a cheap sow to the first man willing.

something in the woods breaks, likely a stick and your comfort leaves you instantly.

there’s something out there.

you hurry to your feet, pretty nightgown swaying in the breeze, and maybe you’re still just imagining things, but you swear just for a moment— there’s pinpricks, eyes.

and they’re too far from the ground to be an animal.

maybe your husband is right— you shouldn’t sit this close to the woods at night. you never know what beasts are outside.

and in the late morning, when your husband comes home, he asks you how your night was.

you smile as prettily as you can manage, despite feeling an awful pit in your stomach, and answer him with a lie, “ ‘s alright— the woods make me happy.”

————

it takes another three times of you being spooked away from your little piece of heaven before you’ve had enough.

you’re tougher than this. you take all the stares and whispers in town straight to your face— you can handle this woods nonsense all the same.

maybe you shouldn’t have gotten into your husband’s whiskey stash— but hell, he wasn’t here to stop you or the thing watching you from the trees.

your rye soaked brain thinks it’s brilliant— the smartest thing you’d ever thought of. you settle in to your perch right after the sun lowers all the way down, this time with all three windows wide open, and you fucking wait.

the almost there whispering starts first, like it always does. you still find that comforting, even through the haze of liquor in your brain. at the first creak, the first shift of the branches— you become more alert, heart thundering under the low cut of your nightgown.

but you won’t run. you refuse to.

it takes a second, but you see it. the eyes.

“it’s rude to stare y’know.”

you don’t expect a response, in fact, you’re sure whatever it is will scamper away from you, but instead you’re met with a tone matching yours, “not starin’ darlin’ — just passing through.”

you feel braver than you thought you would in the face of probably the most danger you’ve ever been in, “come closer into the light then, jus’ so I can watch you pass through.”

it, he, does.

he’s the epitome of a tall handsome stranger. he breeches the tree line and flanks your back porch, eyes never leaving yours. you should be scared, terrified— but by god— it has to be the whiskey.

he’s fucking gorgeous. short hair, neatly trimmed face, sleeves rolled up high enough you can see nothing but pale skin and delicious forearms. christ— you’re desperate for any interaction.

the light catches his eyes again and pulls you out of whatever trance he’s put you in, “your eyes always shine like that when you’re just passin’ by, mister?”

the sentence rolls off your tongue in the same way his does across his teeth, mouth pulling into a smug little grin, “can’t get nothin’ past you can I, sugar?” the name calling makes you a little fuzzy inside but you persist anyways, despite the voice whispering in your head it’s a terrible idea.

you press your knees to the cushion you usually sit on and lean partly out the window. maybe you’re stupid or maybe you’re fucking lonely, “you must be one of them beasts they say is in these woods then.”

“must be darlin’ — must be.”

“you not gonna come in here in the night and kill me are you?”

“nah— sweetie, can’t get in unless you invite me.”

————

you shouldn’t make friends with the monster in the woods. the smart part of you is aware of that.

but remmick is your only friend. he keeps you better company than your husband. better company that all those heifers in town that look down their nose at you for having a husband that doesn’t want you.

it takes a few nights and before you know it— you’re inside the window and he’s seated on your porch right outside. parallel, so you can see each other’s faces. it would almost be romantic if he wasn’t what he was.

“you the one rippin’ out all those peoples’ throats?”

you try not to seem scared, terrified as you look down at him from your roost.

“beasts get hungry, sugar.” that’s enough of an answer for you but still.. curiosity killed the cat, you in this situation, “just for blood? or for other stuff too?”

“there’s other things that interest me.” you try to pretend you don’t pick up on the pretense, the tone he’s using as he stares at your breasts through your nightgown.

“you’re droolin’ remmick.”

your voice is meek and the sudden urge to run takes over you— he’s a fucking predator and you goddamn know it.

but still, you remain, peering at him from the safety of your house, “do beasts get hungry for flesh, remmick?” this time, you hardly recognize yourself. it’s a tone you’d use in an attempt to get your husband to touch you, feather light and brimming with desire.

“yes.”

you stand, shaky on your own feet, like a baby fawn. if those women in town thought you were heinous now, you could only imagine what they’d think of what you were about to do.

slowly, from the other side of the window, remmick stands too. he’s imposing and you’re positive he can hear how quickly your pulse is thrumming in your throat, based solely off the red glint in his eyes, “show me darlin’ — show it to me.”

you close your eyes, hands inching to the hem of your nighty and with more sureness than you’ve ever had, you pull it over your head in one swift movement.

you keep your eyes tightly shut, fearing the creature outside would find you undesirable in the same way your husband would.

“open your eyes.”

you do, god you do— and you’re petrified. he’s all claws and teeth, all hunger and desire.

“you’re about the prettiest thing I’ve seen in this lifetime, honey.” he’s heaving, almost snarling into the nighttime.

“you won’t hurt me?” your hands relax from fists, standing back to your true height, leveling with him from the inside.

“even if I wanted to— can’t get in, you kno’ that.”

the next words shock even you, “what if I let you come in?”

the growl that comes after your words should send you fleeing, running away from your window but it doesn’t, “nah— still wouldn’t hurt you.”

“remmick— please come inside.”

he does, christ— he does.

[lady-luckk]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ you reap what you sow

# pairings: yandere sugar daddy harem x sugar baby reader

# synopsis: you’ve been dating eight guys all at the same time for they’re money. hopefully they never find out about each other

# warnings: this will contain dark themes such as obsession and possessiveness. if you are uncomfortable, please block me. viewer discretion is advised. minors DNI.

# notes: inspired by that one tiktok vid. Ifykyk. reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!

# parts: part 1 𖤓 part 2 𖤓 part 3

love is a transaction, and you’ve mastered the art of the deal. eight men, each convinced they’re the center of your world, each blind to the truth. they call you when they’re lonely, when they need an ego boost, when they want to feel wanted.

you play your part well—sweet, devoted, just naive enough to keep them comfortable. they see you as temporary, something to be enjoyed and discarded. but that’s fine. as long as the gifts keep coming, as long as the money flows, you’ll let them believe whatever they want. you don’t care as long as the money keeps coming. they’re all your darlings.

they think they’re using you—another pretty thing to entertain them until they get bored. but you don’t mind. boredom works in your favor. their wallets open easier when they don’t take you seriously.

you smile, you flatter, you play your role to perfection. eight men, eight lives, none the wiser. they think they hold all the power, that you should be grateful for whatever scraps of affection they toss your way.

but in the end, you’re the one collecting the rewards.

you’re a master at time management—you’ve been dating these guys simultaneously for a year. one year perfecting the balance, juggling their schedules, their tempers, their affections. none of them have discovered the others' existence. too dumb to suspect a thing. they all think they’re the one you love most. they often feel troubled and annoyed by your affection toward them, and they’ve repeatedly told you to know your place, not to harbor any unrealistic hope.

HA HA HA.

the only unrealistic hope you have is for their money.

you don’t need love—you need their money. their attention. their willingness to spoil you even as they look down on you.

and as long as they keep giving, you’ll keep playing along.

you often cycle through the messages on your phone, each conversation carefully tailored. each boyfriend is a puzzle piece slotted into your perfect game. some of them are cruel, sneering when they hand you gifts. others act indifferent, as if their presence alone is payment enough. you smile and nod and let them think they own you. none of them do.

you’ve rehearsed every lie. when one calls late at night, you’re just getting out of the bath. when another wants to meet, you’re swamped with work. if two of them go to the same café, you warn one about a sudden stomach ache. they eat out of your hand without realizing it.

but something has changed.

they used to forget little details about you, dismissing you as just another fling. now, they remember too much. one recalls your favorite coffee order, even though you never told him. another shows up at places you frequent, acting surprised to see you. one leaves a bouquet of your favorite flowers at your doorstep, carefully arranged with a handwritten note that simply reads, thinking of you. you never told him you liked those flowers. in fact, you don’t even remember mentioning them at all.

their texts, once careless and sparse, become suffocating. "thinking of you," one writes at midnight. "dreamed about you last night," another says. the words feel heavier than before. they ask more questions, ones that dig too deep. "what do you do when we're not together?" "who else do you spend time with?" their words are sweet, but there's an edge, a demand for something unspoken.

their texts, once careless and sparse, become suffocating.

for example,

elijah

elijah never used to care about your whereabouts. he would text you lazily, sometimes going days without responding. but now, he messages you constantly. "where are you?" "who are you with?" "send me a picture."

you laugh it off, telling him he’s being silly, but one night, you catch him outside your workplace. he’s leaning against his car, arms crossed, watching the entrance.

"thought i’d surprise you," he says. "you didn’t answer my texts."

he drives you home without asking, his fingers tapping anxiously against the steering wheel. "you wouldn’t lie to me, would you?" he asks suddenly. his voice is calm, but his grip on the gearshift tightens. "i don’t like being lied to."

you smile, reassure him, say all the right things. he finally relaxes, but his eyes stay sharp, watching you like he’s memorizing your every move.

lucas

lucas has never been the affectionate type, but lately, he’s been pulling you closer, holding onto you longer. his hands linger on your waist when you say goodbye, his fingers curling slightly, as if reluctant to let you go.

"you’re mine, you know that, right?" he whispers one evening, his breath hot against your ear.

"of course," you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. but inside, something twists. his grip is a little too tight, his smile a little too forced.

the next morning, you wake up to dozens of missed calls from him. your phone buzzes again. "answer me." another message. "don’t ignore me."

you turn off your phone and tell yourself it’s nothing.

nathan

nathan always acted like he had other girls, like he didn’t need you. but now, he’s different. he clings to you in ways that feel desperate, his arrogance cracking.

"i don’t know what i’d do if i lost you," he admits one night, his fingers tracing circles on your wrist. "you wouldn’t leave me, right?"

his voice is soft, but there’s something hollow beneath it, something dark.

"never," you say, and he relaxes—but his grip never loosens.

kai

kai never used to show up unannounced. now, he does. first, at your work. then, at your gym. then, outside your apartment.

"i was just in the neighborhood," he says each time, flashing that easy smile.

but his eyes are always scanning, searching. as if he’s looking for something. or someone.

"i love you, you know," he murmurs one night, his fingers brushing over your cheek. "you wouldn’t betray me. not you."

you laugh, tell him he’s being dramatic.

but when you get home, your apartment door is unlocked.

matthew

matthew was always indifferent, treating you like an afterthought. but not anymore. now, he watches you closely, studying your every move, his head tilted like he’s trying to solve a puzzle.

"you’ve changed," he says one day, his tone unreadable. "you’re hiding something."

you laugh, brush him off. but his gaze lingers, calculating.

"i’ll figure it out," he says finally, and something about the way he says it makes your stomach twist.

leo

leo used to be fun, lighthearted. but now, there’s an edge to him. a quiet intensity that makes you nervous.

"i had a dream about you last night," he tells you one evening. "you were leaving me. i didn’t like it."

you smile, joke that he’s being paranoid. but he just stares at you, unblinking.

"don’t ever do that to me," he says. "not even in a dream."

his fingers tighten around yours. you don’t pull away.

xavier

xavier never asked for more than you were willing to give. but now, he wants everything.

"move in with me," he says suddenly.

it’s not a request.

when you hesitate, his expression darkens. "why not?" he asks. "you love me, don’t you?"

you nod quickly, knowing it’s what he wants to hear. his smile returns, but his eyes remain cold.

"good," he murmurs. "because i won’t let you go."

damien

one night, damien insists on driving you home. he's never offered before. usually, he barely walks you to the door, too preoccupied with himself to care. but tonight, his grip on your wrist lingers a second too long when you try to leave the restaurant. "let me take you home," he says. his voice is smooth, but there's something off in his eyes, something unreadable.

you try to decline, but he doesn’t budge. "humor me," he says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

in the car, he doesn't speak. the drive is quiet, too quiet. when you glance at him, his knuckles are tight around the steering wheel. your apartment building comes into view, but instead of stopping out front like he always does, he pulls into the empty lot and turns off the engine.

"damien—" you start, but he cuts you off. "stay a little longer," he says. his voice is soft, almost pleading. "i just... don’t like saying goodbye so soon."

you smile, playing along, though something about the way he's looking at you makes your skin prickle. "next time, okay?"

for a moment, he doesn’t move. then, he exhales sharply and unlocks the doors. "yeah. next time."

as you step out, you feel his eyes on your back the entire way inside.

lately, you feel eyes on you when no one should be there. the messages come faster, their tones more insistent. “where were you last night?” one asks. “you’re mine, aren’t you?” another demands. you brush them off, just as you always do, but the uneasy feeling lingers. they’re getting restless. possessive.

one night, as you return home, you notice something strange—your apartment door is unlocked. your stomach twists. you always double-check. always.

inside, everything is untouched. but the air feels different, charged. you close the door and step forward cautiously. the silence is suffocating.

you shake the feeling off. no one knows. no one has found out.

not yet.

[reasonsforhope]

"Abby Allen has no problem with her neighbours peering over her luxuriant hedges to see what she is up to on her farm.

For years she has been carrying out ad hoc experiments with wildlife and farming techniques; in her lush Devon fields native cattle graze alongside 400-year-old hedgerows, with birds and butterflies enjoying the species-rich pasture.

Under the environmental land management scheme (ELMS), introduced by the government in 2021, those experiments were finally being funded. “We have a neighbour who has always been more of an intensive farmer,” she says, but he is now considering leaving fields unploughed to help the soil. “It genuinely is having such a huge impact in changing people’s mindsets who traditionally would never have thought about farming in this way.”

The new nature payments scheme followed the UK’s exit from the EU, when the government decided to scrap the common agricultural payments scheme, which gave a flat subsidy dependent on the number of acres a farmer managed. In its place came ELMS, which pays farmers for things such as planting hedges, sowing wildflowers for birds to feed on and leaving corners of their land wild for nature.

But these schemes are now at threat of defunding, as the Labour government has refused to commit to the £2.4bn a year spending pot put in place by the previous Conservative government. With spending tight and the chancellor, Rachel Reeves, cutting back on infrastructure and hinting at tax rises, a cut to the ELMS scheme may be on her list.

However, government data released last week found the schemes were working to tentatively bring nature back to England’s farmland. Butterflies, bees and bats are among the wildlife being boosted by ELMS, with birds among the chief beneficiaries, particularly ones that largely feed on invertebrates. An average of 25% more breeding birds were found in areas utilising the eco-friendly schemes.

...there are also farmers who welcome the schemes. Allen says the ELMS has helped her farm provide data and funds to expand and improve the good things they were doing for nature. “Some of the money available around things like soil testing and monitoring – instead of us going ‘we think these are the right things to do and providing these benefits,’ we can now measure it. The exciting thing now is there is money available to measure and monitor and kind of prove that you’re doing the right things. And so then you can find appropriate funding to do more of that.”

Allen, who is in the Nature Friendly Farming Network, manages a network of farms in England, most of which are using the ELMS. This includes chicken farms where the poultry spend their life outside rather than in sheds and other regenerative livestock businesses...

Mark Spencer was an environment minister until 2024 when he lost his seat, but now spends more time in the fields admiring the fruits of his and his family’s labour. He says that a few years of nature-friendly agriculture has restored lapwings and owls.

“On the farm, I haven’t seen lapwings in any number for what feels like a whole generation. You know, as a kid, when I was in my early teens, you’d see lapwings. We used to call them peewits. We’d see them all the time, and they sort of disappeared.

“But then, me and my neighbours changed the way we did cropping, left space in the fields for them to nest, and suddenly they returned. You need to have a piece of land where you’re not having mechanical machinery go over it on a regular basis, because otherwise you destroy the nest. We’ve also got baby owls in our owl box now for the first time in 15 years. They look mega, to be honest, these little owls, little balls of fluff. It is rewarding.”"

-via The Guardian, August 23, 2024

[lynnuvo]

୨⎯ Long Gone Princess ⎯୧

Characters: Yan!Thief x (Y/N) reincarnated as Rapunzel A lot of you guys enjoyed the Cinderella version, so why not make a Rapunzel version? Very much considering making this a Yan!Fairytales Series.

Stowed Away

When you first awoke in your tower, you panicked for days. There was literally no way out, no matter how much you clawed at the bricks. It didn't take long to figure out where exactly you were. Who else would paint a mural of herself, seriously long-haired, gazing at floating lanterns?

Meeting Mother Gothel was the most anxiety-inducing thing you had to push through. You pitied the real Rapunzel for falling victim to her sugar-coated, poisonous words. As much as you internally cringed at them, it wouldn't serve you well to raise suspicion. After all, you have nowhere to go.

Whenever Mother Gothel was gone and you finished tidying up the tower, you emptied one of your chests full of female paraphernalia and stuffed some "safety equipment inside." Hopefully, Mother Gothel wouldn't notice a missing pair of scissors. Or a few darts.

Your now abnormally long hair was disturbing, to say the least. It was pretty, but now that you were living her life, you wandered how Rapunzel managed to put up with the hair strands scattered around the house, washing the heap of keratin proteins for hours in just ONE day, and sleep knowing there was at least some hair flowing to the floor. And let's be real: you were not going to spend most of your day braiding it just to remove your work whenever Mother Gothel came back.

Unfortunately, you couldn't afford to cut your hair--not just because it'd give Mother Gothel a heart attack but because it might help you. It did have magical healing powers. The only huge problem was that you were not skilled enough to maneuver your hair like Rapunzel. In addition, if you were to leave the tower, how would you return? Until you found the secret entrance amongst all the brick, you needed a backup plan.

One day, you gathered the courage to ask Mother Gothel for more fabric to sew a beautiful wedding dress, one that was colorful and very long. Of course, you left out the part where you wanted it to be long enough to reach the bottom of the tower (it'd be a lot of work, but what else were you going to do to escape?). She was skeptical about the idea behind the dress, but you reassured her that you just wanted something like those girls in the fairytale books you had in your room. After her lecture about the dangers of the world, she agreed to get you fabric.

My Savior

One morning, while you sowed your dress, you heard the sound of metal jabbing into something growing closer and closer. In a panic, you shut off your sewing machine and tied up as much as your hair as possible. There was no way you could capture Rapunzel's beloved thief the way she did. You vaguely prepared for what to do when he arrived, but you hadn't expected it to be that day!

At last, he fell into the tower and froze at the sight of you. He glanced behind him and turned back around, stepping away from the window with hands up. "Uh. I am so sorry for breaking into your home."

You pointed one of your scissors (used to cut fabric earlier) at him with a glare. "I'll forgive you if you hand me that bag you have."

"Listen, miss, I think we can sort this out without--"

"The bag or I'll throw you back down."

He gulped and reluctantly threw you the bag, begging you to please return it to him afterwards. The shock he had at your nonchalant expression while pulling out the most sparkly crown you've ever seen was laughable. In reality though, you were in awe. You quickly snapped out of it, though, and threw it behind you. You both cringed at the clanging it made as it hit the floor.

"I need you to listen to me," you started, gripping your scissors and your dress. "I need your help."

You didn't hesitate to cut to the chase. You explained that you were kidnapped by a woman claiming to be your mother and trapped in the tower by her. Although it may backfire on you later, you shared that you were reincarnated from another world. He was in disbelief until you told him his full name, his criminal history, the companions he had who would soon betray him, and the small cottage he visited along with many more criminals or outlaws. He challenged that you just did your research, but then you told him what crime he had just committed: stealing the missing princess's crown, which was--by the way--you.

After some back and forth, he agreed to help on the condition that you return the crown. You agreed to return it on the condition that he not only help you escape but also help you live in safety.

Together, you both clawed at the bricks on the wall until the secret backdoor was found. He helped you come up with a way to hide the new backdoor again whenever Mother Gothel returned.

You found a pattern in the earlier months leading up to then on Mother Gothel's pattern of visitation. She comes back every three or four days in early evening. If she didn't return by the time the sun disappeared, she wouldn't be back at all. That day was one of those days she wasn't going back. You suspected she wouldn't return for a while since she had just left the day before. Although hesitant at the idea of a new roommate, you demanded that Yan!Thief spend the night in the same room as you. He balked at what he thought was an implication, but he soon found himself sleeping on the floor (you dropped a blanket for him). How were you sure he wouldn't use the secret backdoor while you slept? You boobietrapped it before bed, making sure he stayed in the room so he wouldn't see under the threat of murder.

Steal His Heart

Your new routine was a scary turn but also surprisingly relieving. Yan!Thief would leave the tower in search of a new home for you (and him too) and would return in the afternoon only if a piece of purple fabric hung outside the window. Otherwise, it wasn't safe to come back.

Although your relationship started off rocky (who's to blame him with how violently you approached him?), you two soon warmed up to each other. He sometimes returned with small goods that you sometimes got a clear answer for how he retrieved. That chocolate he got for you both to try? He pickpocketed it. That ripe fruit that tasted like mildew spring? He dodged all of the questions.

Eventually, you gathered the courage to leave the tower with him. Your activities differed from there. Sometimes, you both ventured a little ways from the tower to discover the terrain and help find a new home. Sometimes, you both would spend the day walking around, learning more about each other and chatting away.

With no other companion, it came as no surprise to Yan!Thief that he developed romantic feelings for you. You didn't want to admit that you did too. At least, not until you both were in a safe place.

At last, Yan!Thief found an abandoned shelter. It was rusty, but it was closer to the kingdom than the tower but sheltered away like the tower. With a pounding heart, you gathered as much as you could from your tower into a backpack that Yan!Thief had brought over and left forever. In the shelter, you cut your hair, rendering it free from its power. Yan!Thief initially didn't want it to happen due to your great abilities, but one look at your determined face told him that you knew better.

The next couple weeks was spent in paranoia, you in fear of Mother Gothel and him in fear of guards. Luckily, you two went as far as making it into the kingdom without getting caught.

One day, you brought up the idea of revealing your identity to the king and queen while fidgeting with your crown. You reassured Yan!Thief that you'd vouch for his safety and freedom for as much as possible. It took a while for him to warm up to that, but you two finally made your way towards the castle.

Everything went surprisingly as planned. The kingdom rejoiced at the return of their princess, Yan!Thief was spared of a prison sentence and was even given a home and job as a prize for bringing you back, and the dead, rotten body of Mother Gothel was found not far from the shelter you and Yan!Thief had found.

Life was a fairytale.

MY Princess

Until it wasn't.

See, although you and Yan!Thief seemed to start opening a romantic chapter, that soon closed. With your newfound title came new responsibilities, friends, and much to his worries, a possible new love interest.

He tried his best to remain just a friend to you, but it was unbelievably hard. He couldn't believe that you were slowly forgetting him, your savior! Why must you abandon your knight in shining armor?!

He did feel guilty for not appreciating his new life more. Any other criminal would probably fight tooth and nail to be in his position, but he just wasn't happy if you weren't there with him.

Once his selfishness began to boil over, he devised a plan he wasn't sure if he was going to regret. He paid a visit to your room in the castle (you had given your dear best friend special permission) and chatted with you a bit. You apologized for being so distant as of late; royal duties had been keeping you at bay. He accepted your apology more readily than he had expected. It was hard not to with your bright smile and the cute way you pushed your hair behind your ears. He asked if you had time to visit the old tower for memories sake, and you happily agreed. The kingdom had yet to find the tower (you insisted to him that you wanted it kept secret in case you needed to run away again), so you simply told your guards you were heading out for a stroll.

Once at the tower, you two ventured inside and reveled at how dramatic your lives had changed. You even reminisced your life before being reincarnated. As the sun fell, you got up and suggested that you both should head back before it gets dark.

"Yan!Thief?" You peered at his gloomy expression. "Is everything okay?"

He nodded. got up, and hugged you. You let out a gasp before embracing him back. When he left go, you caught a tear slipped down his cheek. Your hands shot up to cup his face. "Yan!Thief?! What's wrong? I'm here. Did something happen?"

He sniffled and brushed a hand over your cheek. "I'm so sorry."

You were about to demand an explanation until you caught a glimmer shine from a blade in his other hand.

When you woke, you found your ankle chained to your bed--not your bed in the beautiful castle you were meant to be in but in the tower you had escaped from a year ago.

Yan!Thief came in the room and apologized with tears streaming down his face, exclaiming that you were just too irresistible to give to any other man or even the kingdom. He promised to take care of everything.

No matter how much you screamed, threw items in a fit of rage, or revealed that you only had romantic feelings for him all this time, he wouldn't budge. It was only until he bought a longer chain that he freed you from the bed. Your heart broke when you discovered he had discarded the wedding dress you had worked hard on and abandoned in the tower long ago, and even more so when you saw that he had built a new door in front of the original secret entrance.

You were back to square one, only this time with no way out and betrayed by the one person you truly trusted in this universe.

[athetos]

Some thoughts from severance s2e3, and the season in general:

I 100% assumed the reason the goat people were asking to see their bellies was to see if they had belly buttons. Since the prevailing theory is that the goats are for cloning purposes, i figured they wanted to make sure they weren’t clones (clones not having belly buttons because they weren’t birthed/have need for an umbilical cord). If we take the pouches line at face value, I’d guess that they were told a rumor that MDR had pouches, to sow division and fear between the departments (like the fake uprising told to MDR about O&D, and vice versa).

The Export Floor. The fact that O&D used to deliver things there themselves, but then a courier was used. My theory is that someone saw something there they shouldn’t have. I don’t know how o!Irving knows about it, but I’m not here to discuss that right now. What I want to talk about is the name. The obvious one is exporting goods (or even ideas) to other countries, and this could simply mean it’s where stuff made by O&D gets sent up to the ‘outtie’ world. But there’s another possibility - export as in transferring data to another software/format. I think it’s this meaning that is critical, and has big implications for Gemma/Ms. Casey. They could be transferring the data MDR has refined to her chip, or in some way or another, working on “Cold Harbor.”

I am very firmly in the ‘that’s Helena’ camp now. I don’t think this is in character for Helly, as the extremely awkward conversation in the hall with Mark as well as telling Irving they ‘got him’ sealed it for me. I’m fairly certain that management knows it’s Helena; after all, they don’t activate her chip, although I won’t rule out she paid someone off/threatened them to do it. That said, I like to believe she compromised with the board to go down as herself, instead of as Helly. This would also mean that she can encourage Mark to go places that Lumon specifically wants him to see, instead of ones that are much more confidential. However, I think she’ll end up siding with the innies by the end, simply because the connections she will forge with them will be the only genuine and loving relationships in her life.

I didn’t mention this before, but i’m pretty sure Irving knows that Helena/Helly is lying, because he was the only innie who spent enough time outside to know that it was winter and she couldn’t have been gardening. He distrusts her, that’s why he only told Dylan about Burt.

Upon immediately seeing Dylan’s wife I assumed she was a hired actress. However it genuinely appears to be her (granted, I’m faceblind, but the voice sounded the same when she was with his outtie later in the episode). Lumon clearly thinks that this perk will keep i!Dylan in line, but I think it might backfire spectacularly, or at least cause significant drama - his wife is going to fall in love with his innie. Think about it, if their marriage is going through a rough patch, and she gets to spend time with a version of her husband who lacks all of the assumptions/grudges he has against her - basically starting all over… yeah, it’s gonna get strange. The way she talked about it to o!Dylan was like she was hiding it from him, almost like it’s the beginning of a potential affair…

(I also am still of the mind that either she or one of their children is terminally ill in some way, hence the benefits/insurance that Dylan is always looking after. He also complained a few times about having sore arms and jokes he works out. I feel this might be related somehow? But not sure…)

I stand by my theory that the board is actually the motherboard and is Kier’s (and his successors?) consciousness, or something of that ilk. The board was referred to as “it” in this episode (also “they”, but I believe that was meant as in plural, including Natalie). So I think we actually don’t have any proof that it’s multiple people or even people period. It will be like the export double meaning I mentioned earlier. Again, the board is hot on Mark staying and working because it wants him to finish Cold Harbor so it can begin the revival of Kier’s family (the rotation could potentially mean their minds being uploaded. Or something of that nature.)

No big theories or details to chew on here, but things that got big reactions from me: the Black Kier portraits I was expecting but still not prepared for. I desperately want to see Natalie’s portraits that she received; were they all biracial, all women, or both? The idea of genderbent biracial Kier family is killing me. This is like Hamilton (I think). Cobel definitely was going to die if she went into the building, she made the right call, I was terrified that her car might explode as she left. Phew. Next episode is going to be a roller coaster, I can tell. Shocked that he’s starting reintegration so soon but I’m here for it. Worried that Devon is going to get murdered. And I’m waiting for Cobel to get hunted down by Mark or for her to willingly seek him out as she realizes this is her only chance left to… do whatever the fuck it is she wants to do.

[yan-lorkai]

Heyyy! I hope you are doing well! (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

I would like to request something!

Yan!Crowley with a darling who is his secretary! I hope you're comfortable with writing romantic stuff with the staff. If not then please ignore this request. ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

Stay safe and don't forget to stay hydrated! Byeee ♪⁠～⁠(⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ a/n: This is my first Crowley request so I hope I wrote him right. Enjoy ~

Working as Dire Crowley’s secretary is a whirlwind of chaos, exasperation, and somehow endearment. On the surface, he’s an eccentric, bumbling headmaster who constantly piles his endless workload onto you while waxing poetic about how invaluable you are to him.

He often forgets appointments, dodges responsibilities, and somehow manages to create more paperwork for you with every half-baked plan he devises - it's like you are the headmaster and he is your secretary.

And yet, despite the frustration, you stay. Maybe it’s because you’ve grown used to the rhythm of his antics, or maybe it’s because he always finds a way to charm you into sticking around. He praises you endlessly, often with overly dramatic flair, declaring that no one could ever replace you. At first, you thought it was just his usual theatrics, but as time went on, you began to notice the subtle possessiveness behind his words.

Crowley has a way of making you feel both indispensable and trapped. If you so much as hint at being overwhelmed or mention needing time off, he panics. He flutters around you, begging for forgiveness and insisting he couldn’t possibly survive a day without you.

"What would this school do without my brilliant secretary?" He laments, clutching his chest like you’ve just stabbed him thirty times. "No, no, no! You must stay! For the sake of the academy and my sanity as well!"

His behavior grows more suffocating the closer you get to him. He begins to rely on you not just professionally but personally, pulling you into his orbit with every request and manufactured crisis. It’s not uncommon for him to call you into his office for “urgent matters” that turn out to be little more than an excuse to chat or keep you near him.

Despite his shortcomings, Crowley is remarkably attentive when it comes to you. He knows your favorite tea, the way you like your workspace organized, and even small details like how you tap your pen when you’re frustrated. He uses this knowledge to ingratiate himself further, always appearing with a solution or a grand gesture at just the right time.

The turning point comes when he starts making subtle comments about your interactions with others. If you spend too long talking to a student or a staff member, his demeanor shifts. The usually jovial headmaster becomes uncharacteristically quiet, his golden eyes watching you intently. Later, he’ll casually bring up the encounter, his tone light but his words carefully chosen to sow doubt or guilt.

"Ah, I see you’ve been spending a lot of time with Professor Trein lately," he’ll say, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "I do hope you’re not neglecting your duties with me, dear secretary. After all, no one understands you like I do."

Over time, his antics escalate. He begins orchestrating situations to isolate you, ensuring you spend more time with him and less with others. The line between professional and personal blurs further as he starts calling you by affectionate nicknames, brushing off your protests with a laugh.

"My dear, you work far too hard," he coos one evening, handing you a cup of tea he made himself. "Allow me to take care of you. After all, you take such good care of me."

Though his behavior is overwhelming, there’s a strange comfort in his constant attention. He’s unpredictable and demanding, but he’s also fiercely protective and utterly devoted. And as much as you might want to escape the suffocating hold he has on you, a part of you wonders if anyone else could ever match the intensity of his obsession.

[whoopsyeahokay]

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it.

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. cheating (not on you). HEA. fluff. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - Z

Z is for zero fucks to sow—the field barren, the soil bad—when Principal Hartman announces Travis for Prom King.

The music is decent, Braden is being generous with his stash of vodka, and Wally has his favorite girl on his arm, done up in a dress that pivots his imagination into x-rated territory. Why the hell would he shed a tear over a Dollar Tree crown and a dance with Janet's two left feet? Let Travis have her. Recompense for what the bastard tried to do to you in April.

He spends the night with you in his arms, his hands on your ass over your dress on the dancefloor. He joins you and your friends on a crusade to McDonald's around 10PM because Simon underestimated Charley's tolerance and needs the grease to soak up the alcohol. It's hilarious. And real. None of the fake smiles and servile flattery Wally's accustomed to from his peers. Xavier's fucking comedy gold and Nicole is a sweetheart. Rhonda's terrifying and Wally doesn't look directly at her when she speaks, just in case she stabs him with her eyeballs.

As crazy as it sounds, he's pretty sure she's capable of manifesting a plague upon his house if he so much as acknowledges her existence beyond what she sees fit to share.

The point is, hanging out with you and your friends...it's different. Authentic. Nice in a way Wally never thought friendship could be. He pelts fries at Yuri's head when the guy makes a snarky comment about Wally's football glory, but it's done with humor. He laughs and jokes and lets himself be who he's always been on the inside, exposed and honest and bravely open. Because you're there. You've got his back. His heart. His everything. He trusts you so implicitly that he no longer fears judgment or rejection.

What even are you? Surely, you can't be human.

Back in the hotel reception hall, the DJ playing something Wally can grind his hips to, he has you against the wall, lips on your skin, hands under your dress, "Fuck, baby, we need to get out of here." His words panted and eager between kisses that make you melt into him. His suit's suddenly too tight, his body overheated, and he needs you so badly he might snap and do something stupid. Like fuck you right then and there with the class of 2025 for an audience.

Thankfully, at a grown 18, Wally was able to score a room on the top floor with his mama's permission and his dad's credit card. A surprise for his perfect little princess who deserves the whole fucking world and more.

The elevator ride up is thick with anticipation. The old woman and her dog who share the confined space cast you and Wally knowing looks as he tries so hard not to vibrate out of his skin. When he finally gets you alone, the frenzy in him evaporates into slow touches and soft words. He unzips your dress, lips on your shoulder, standing at your back as you watch him in the mirror.

He undresses in stages, kisses intense, disarming, and then gentle and filled with an affection Wally isn't sure won't kill him. It swells in his heart, outward through his body, so big and infinite he almost can't bear it, might explode at the simplest contact. He manages, though, remains intact, leads you into the palatial bathroom to wash and worship every inch of you as you rest between his legs, back to chest, your head on his shoulder.

There was a time not long ago that Wally would've surrendered to his impatience. Entitled and greedy; hot, fast fucks because you and he rarely had time to relax with the looming threat of someone discovering what was going on.

Jesus, he's so grateful that's behind him. That he has you like this. That you let him have you like this. Even after Janet shoved that video in your face in an attempt to ruin Wally's life. He remembers with fondness how you brushed it off, that was before, right?, and Wally nodded, you shrugged, Janet stormed off a loser.

The night extends into the morning and then past checkout, the maid getting an eyefull when she comes into the room to do her job. Her shriek spurs you and Wally out of bed and into last night's formalwear, both you and he giggling like idiots in the elevator, across the lobby, out to Wally's car.

He doesn't want it to end. And it doesn't have to, does it? He realizes, part shocked, part amazed. He can see you later. See you tomorrow. The day after, the day after that, all the way into the future, forever.

His hand on your thigh as he drives, thumb stroking your warm flesh, Wally glances at you and can't hide the love he feels building even higher inside him. You're everything he never knew he needed and he's lucky enough to have found you.

In that moment, Wally promises—to himself and to you—that you're stuck with him. He's never letting you go.

"I'm okay with that," You say so easily it's as if there was never any other option and Wally's just slow on the uptake.

He kisses you deep and thorough at a stop light, leans back with a smile so adoring you blush.

"I love you, sweet girl," He whispers, his forehead pressed to yours, "More than anything."

And, God strike him down the day that stops being true.

🧿___________fin.____________

MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

alphabetical navigation:

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

linear navigation:

B T K A F P V R M S D C I J H W N O E X G L Y U Q Z

-🧿-

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Hot For You.

smut. Wally is horny as fuck and can't keep his hands out of his pants. who are you not to help a friend in need?

[lavender-butterfly-cookie]

**meanwhile**

Random Witch:**strangling the Witch that created The Y/N's** I'LL KILL HIM,I'LL KILL HIM

The Witch who created The Beasts:.....só..........why are you doing this

Random Witch:.....Why am i......Bro the amount of things this one person did was só........Bro made frickin cookies that did THINGS,First of all Bro They somehow manage tô Literally make cookies fall in love with them,and Bro look what one of them did tô jeff

The Witch:Why what happened to je-.....ooooooh **witch with bandages all over his body**.....look i Just Don't think It not that deep

Random Witch:one of the married Mystic flour and one of them married The Frickin jester

The Witch:........impossible

The witch: I swear, those things keep appearing and bagging half the cookies we created. I even saw some of MY cookies falling for them! It's their fault!

Witch Y/N: eheh- I wouldn't recommend doing that to them-

The Witch: and why's that?!

Witch Y/N: well-

*Lavender appears*

Witch Y/N: fudge-

The Witch: it's a cookie... you can't possibly be scared of a-

The entire house shakes with dangerous vigor as cauldrons and baking supplies go falling and crashing to the ground.

The witch: ok forget what I said- we should be scared-

Lavender: WHICH ONE OF YOU IS CLAIMING THAT THEY BAKED THE Y/N'S?!?

The Witch: I- wait what???

Lavender: I did NOT spend my valuable time on creating those walking headaches just for one of you to claim they're your creations. Now, WHO WAS IT?!

Silence filled the Cabin as the tiny yet powerful cookie glared at the witches. Then, almost as though it was practiced, they all pointed to one specific witch at the same time. A nervous laugh left them as the cookie stared at them.

Duck cookie: so... you're telling me that the giant witch hat you're currently cutting and sowing into pajamas was taken from a-... uh-....

Lavender: thief of my delicate arts.

Duck cookie: and you... uninstalled them from existence?

Lavender: mhm.

Duck cookie: and you didn't invite me?

[enviedear]

jackie and wilson — billy bonney

⤷ modern!billy au

tw— somehow this is 4.6k words. mentions of food and eating, talk of religion and bible verses, (i'm southern and was forced to go to church every sunday it reflects in the writing) smutty themes so, minors dni, 18+ only, kissing, fondling, skinny dipping, (they're in their undies) so horrifically fluffy

i can already tell this is going to become an ongoing series, so be sure to comment and lmk if you want more. also, this is influenced by my daily mantra

request

the summer heat feels like it's baking you as you traverse through the long grass of your farmland. birds call and screech in the trees lining the woods beside you. if you weren't so scared of walking the shortcut in the woods alone, your risk of sun poisoning may seem less apparent.

you grip the wicker basket in your hands tighter, eyes squinting to look for the lean farmhand-for-hire. in years past, you've been keen to take his place whenever your grandparents needed someone for an oddball job. working long hours with the older couple up until you graduated from the county high school. as the seasons changed, and you got older and busier, so did your grandparents. their work on their farm proved in dire need of help.

a simple fix—you. this summer, free from university and your internship, your parents elected you to spend the free time of your summer working on your loving grandparents' farm.

in the early days of the warm season, you managed pretty well on your own. you tended the vegetables and the fruits, took care of the chickens and sheep, and sowed the large fields with grain until sunset.

everything changed after an unfortunate incident with your grandpa's gargantuan baler. luckily, you were fine, but your pa's expensive baler was wrecked all to hell.

so here you were, now relegated to some pseudo farmer's daughter role, hand-delivering water and a full lunch to none other than billy bonney.

your grandparents say billy's nice enough, mannerly yet hushed. but you know there's more to it. at least if small town gossip is anything to believe, and here, it usually is.

everyone knows the crowd billy runs around with. he's also got a vile gang of friends. angry men with sly smirks who spend most of their free time loitering the town's local bar or gambling away their lives at lawrence murphy's corral. the type of men to carry a weapon at all times without any license, and quick to threaten to shoot with even the most minor infraction.

the knowledge was enough to have you hiding away from him every time your grandparents hired him for a job.

everytime that is, until now.

you knew with the way your pa sternly stared into your eyes that a complaint wouldn't be warranted. as your grandma instructed you to bring the farmhand some, "hearty lunch for his hard work," you came to terms with the fact that you had no right to argue.

not when you owe the old man a baler.

you finally reach the young man, covered in grime and leaning against his parked pickup, out of breath and sweltering. you try not to stare at the baler attached to the tractor, about twenty feet from his parked vehicle, your embarrassment over wrecking the last one still ever present.

his truck has its' doors wide open, blaring music through blown speakers. you try to avoid making direct eye contact with him, voice raised slightly to be heard over the folk song playing, "here. figure you're hungry."

lifting the tea towel from the top of the basket, you set it on his open truck bed. despite not looking up, you can see him hurry to turn his music down before sauntering over to you from the side of your gaze.

"thank you," his voice surprises you. it's gruff but gentle. "you kin to the old couple?"

you're not sure why, but you take offense to his question. sure you've ignored him, but you know that he knows who you are. you meet his stare, your tone dry in response, "i am."

he inclines his head toward the basket, ignoring your reply with a hum, "what'd ya' bring me, hon?"

your eyes roll unabashed at his endearment, "my grandma threw a bit of everything in there. i know there's some jambalaya— the last bit of our mud cake too."

"you're spoiling me, you tell her i said thank you," he pauses, peering down at you, "are you going to be bringin' me my lunch everyday?"

his question is innocuous but something in the way he says it makes your stomach drop. you shrug, "sure, i guess."

"i'd like that." he slips the words out before his hands dive into the basket, fishing out one of the water bottles.

you nod, confused by him, "yeah well, be careful. i guess i'll see you tomorrow."

at that you turn from him, walking your trail again to get back to the house. you fight the urge to look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of him. some proof he's really there, that the interaction actually happened.

because despite the second-hand opinion you've held on him, billy bonney was unexpected. annoyingly so.

as you finish up your day, you can't help but think about the encounter with the dark-haired farmhand. you've known of him for years, sure, but you never expected much of him.

just another one of jesse evans’ rowdy boys.

shocking, that billy would be so different. or maybe, just better at hiding his depravity. you think back to his voice, rough around the edges, yet littered with tenderness. it’s not until you think back to his gentle smile that you realize, there’s a kindness that exudes from him, and it’s got you hook, line, and sinker.

you wonder if he's always been this way? you like to think he has. even if it is only a platitude for your undeniable crush.

in the following days, you continue to bring the farmhand his lunch, stopping to talk to him longer each noon. he's easy to talk to, apt to ask you about your day, or if you need anything. you can't exactly explain why, but you're drawn to him.

it's extra muggy as you pack up his lunch and make your way to him, breaking from his time on the baler to lay in the bed of his truck.

he doesn't take notice of you until your basket finds home right beside him, blasted speakers blaring yet another folk tune.

"hey there," he greets you with a grin, his white work shirt wrought with soil, the short sleeves haphazardly rolled, "you know i'm starting t'get used to this."

you smile back, feeling a warm sensation spreading through your body, "i'm sure you are."

billy takes a look in the lunch basket, grabbing out some water first to clear the dirt on his hands, "you wanna hang around for a bit?"

you hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should. not only do you have a long list of chores, you also still find a bit of nervousness around the young man.

but billy's been nice enough, and if he's anything like his friends you assume he would have shown it by now, "i guess i have some time."

billy nods, handing you a water and patting the free space beside him. you hop up, close enough that his side brushes yours.

the sensation sends shivers down your spine as you try to focus on conversation, pulling for anything you can say. for a moment, neither of you speaks, the only sound is coming from the music blasting from his speakers. an old rock song today, different. your eyes try to look anywhere but at him, taking in the vast expanse of farmland around you.

"must be nice to have all this land to yourself," billy says, breaking the silence.

you nod, grateful for his compliment, "it is. my grandparents have worked hard to keep it running."

"i can tell," billy says, taking a swig from his water bottle, "they got a good thing goin' here."

you agree, taking a sip from your own bottle. the sun beats down on your skin, making you feel sweaty and sticky. billy, on the other hand, seems used to it. he looks up at the sky, squinting against the sunlight.

"you know, i was thinking," billy says, steady voice breaking the silence again, "what would you say if i took you out sometime?"

your heart skips a beat, your mind going into overdrive. you never expected billy to ask you out, even more so that you’d be so willing to entertain the idea.

you hesitate for a moment before answering, "i don't know. i mean, i barely know you."

this is a half truth, you know him. only this version though, the sweet billy bonney who works on your family farm and takes his lunch breaks with you. you don't have any idea who he is outside of these moments.

at least not first hand. just second hand gossip. you wouldn’t even know which stories are real or fake. you’re not sure if he’s a convincing actor or genuine soul. there are rumors he shot a man back in his hometown. that he launders money with jesse evans’ gang. that he’s a cheat from a rodeo front, taking ignorant peoples’ bet money.

billy hums, breaking your anxious thoughts, "what'd you wanna know, hon? i'm an open book."

you chew on your lip, thinking about it. it could be a smart move, you're curious about him and need to know more. you need to know what about him is fact or fiction. but at the same time, you're afraid of what the truth may be, "i don't know," you say finally. "i mean, work, for example. is this all you do?"

billy cracks a smile, "no, hon’. this s’more of a side job.” he sighs, “i was a pickup for jesse evans' rodeo for a while, but that new fella' that just came to town—mr. tunstill, he's got me a better gig."

you furrow your brows, already on edge by the mention of his previous employer, "and what exactly is that?"

he chuckles a bit, "he's got me as a producer, but i do show on the weekends."

"so what? you're a full-fledged rodeo man? with bulls and all?" you'd always know of jesse's grimy ‘rodeo’, really just used as a gambling den and club, but you're intrigued by the idea of billy actually doing it. especially working with tunstill, a sincerely kind wealthy man from overseas. it must be a stark contrast to jesse’s.

"i guess. it's a good time and you can make honest money dependin' on the event," he pauses, "it's not like jesse's, if that's what you're wondering."

you look away from him, "my pa never let me go. when i turned twenty-one i tried to go with a bunch of my girlfriends. he about had a stroke keeping me out the door."

"he's smart, you shouldn't go. those guys are bad news." he's talking quieter now, less sugary and more solemn.

you fight your previous embarrassment, opting to stare straight into his pale blues, "you hang around those guys."

your sentiment is clear and billy goes hush for a long few seconds before speaking, eyes closed, "do not carouse with drunkards or feast with gluttons, for they are on their way to poverty, and too much sleep clothes them in rags."

you know those words, heard primarily while crammed in a pew, "you're a religious man?" you don't mean to, but your question comes out a bit unconvinced.

he opens his eyes back up, a spark of something you can't place within them, "no, not really. jus' something mr. tunstill keeps repeating to me. i didn't really pay it any mind till i met you."

you try to ignore the way his hand inches closer to your own, "why's that?"

"not sure. just seems easier to abide by now. i'd hate to end up like them. i know you don't like 'em." his voice is soft, but the hand that takes hold of yours isn't.

you look down at your feebly interlocked hands, hesitating, and then taking his hand with the same conviction, "no, i don't," a breath, "but i like you."

billy's face lights up at your words, and he leans in closer to you. you can feel his breath on your face, and your heart races with excitement and anticipation. you’ve never felt to entrapped in a man before, so ready to dive in head first.

without thinking, you reach out to touch his sun kissed cheek, and he leans into your hand. your fingers trace a path down his cheek, and then down to his lips. you have an overwhelming urge to kiss him, and you're surprised when he pulls back.

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done that." you say, feeling embarrassed.

"no, it's not that. it's just… i want to take you out on a real date. something proper." his cheeks have grown far more pink, only this time it's not the sun's doing.

you consider his words for a moment, before nodding, "that sounds real nice, billy."

he grins, and you feel a flutter in your chest. how he managed to make you feel this way so soon, you're not sure.

"you free this friday?" he asks, amusement in his tone.

you release his hand, grabbing for your phone, "should be, my boss loves me," a stupid joke, but you hand the touchscreen to him, "put your number in, so we can plan a time."

you climb down from the bed of the truck, peering up at the farmhand as he adds his number to your phone. when he's done he hands you back the phone, the sun casting an auburn glow to his hair.

you look up at him, and he smiles down at you, "don't be a stranger." he jokes.

you give him a laugh, "wouldn’t dream of it," you add, "i'll see you friday— i'm going into town with my grandma tomorrow. i'm sure it'll last all day."

billy hums, "till' friday, honey."

you turn and head back to the house, smiling to yourself, feeling happy and alive in a way that you haven't felt in a long time.

the next day, thursday, you wake up early to accompany your grandma into town. the older woman drags you up and down shopping centre's, moaning on and on about how cheaply things are made now.

you make it through the first ten stores without your smile cracking, you think it must be a finely tuned talent.

it's not until well after lunch the woman decides to slow down, stopping at a local diner to eat. she does most of the talking, gossiping about everyone she's run into today.

you love your grandma and you enjoy your time with her, but you're too focused on tomorrow to really be good company.

if she notices your change in behavior though, she doesn't comment. highly unlike her.

by the time the sky is more dark than light, you two head home. she plays old country music the whole ride, teeny-bopper songs that remind you how young she used to be.

and when you finally lay your head down to rest, you don't try to fight off the supercut in your mind of your sweet farmhand.

the next day, fateful friday, arrives with a mix of nerves and excitement. you find yourself checking the clock more often than usual, the anticipation building as the day progresses. your mind drifts to the possible plans for the evening, wondering where billy might take you on this 'proper date.'

a bit after the sun hits noon, you finish up your chores on the farm, your thoughts consumed by your impending evening. you decide to freshen up and put on something nice, an easy way to get your mind together.

your closet here is less thorough than the one at home, but the innocent tops and bottoms of your late teens still fit. you look less severe than you'd normally for a date. forgone are the dark, tight, and sultry clothes of your college town, leaving you looking ever so sweet.

the early afternoon arrives, and you hear the distant rumble of his pickup as it approaches. you feel alight with a muddled mess of nerves as you make your way out of the house to meet him.

you look over your shoulder when you crack the door open. making sure you haven't awoken your sleeping grandparents, who rarely miss their three o'clock naps.

the summer sun is high in the sky, casting a bright glow over the landscape. billy's leaned up against his truck, staring expectantly at your front porch— staring at you, you realize.

as you walk to him, you can't help but notice the effort he put into dressing up. his filthy work shirt is replaced with a clean, green linen button-down, and there's a hint of ambery cologne in the air. he offers you a genuine smile, eyes lighting up as he takes in your appearance.

"hey there, beautiful." he greets you, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder blade, comforting.

"hi," you reply, returning his saccharine smile. "you clean up nice."

he chuckles, a bit bashful, "well, i figured it's a special occasion."

you let him lead you to the passenger side, where he opens the rusty pickup's door for you, you fight back your grin when he follows in after.

as you drive into town, the atmosphere is a blend of excitement and a tinge of nervousness. billy takes you to a quaint little restaurant a bit outside of town. it's casual but with dim lights and a cozy ambiance. certainly it's the most romantic restaurant around without heading an hour out into the city. the two of you share stories and laughs, finding little to no lull in conversation.

"you want any dessert?" you ask, fiddling a loose thread at the hem of your blouse.

billy shrugs, "i've never said no to some banana puddin'. what'd you say?"

you giggle, nodding in agreement. you feel high off of his company. you're giddy and doing a horrible job at hiding it, but he doesn't seem to mind. instead, he relegates to matching your optimism, only validating every enamored thought of him that rings in your mind.

the warm evening air swirls around you as the two of you exit the restaurant. billy offers his hand, and you gladly intertwine your fingers as you stroll down the sidewalk. the town square is alive with the soft glow of streetlights.

as you walk, the conversation continues, easy and simple. billy talks animatedly about his past few weekends at the rodeo and shares some amusing anecdotes about the other rider’s on the circuit. you, in turn, finally divulge your baler incident, much to his chagrin.

the final hours of afternoon are slowly rolling in, and soon you find yourselves back at his pickup truck. you assume he'll drive you home, but to your surprise, he takes a different route, heading towards the backroads right beside your land. you raise an eyebrow, curious about this unexpected detour.

"where are we going?" you inquire, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

billy smirks but doesn't say anything, keeping the destination a secret. the road is winding and narrow— made of dirt and full of large potholes. you know your little front-wheel drive could never make it. eventually, he slows the car off the path, onto the side of the road.

there's an apparent trail just to the right of you, and when billy opens the door for you, he immediately ushers you toward it, "don't worry, we won't go too far in."

you'd be lying if you said the setting sun wasn't adding a level of unease to the idea of entering the woods, but when you look at billy, eyes bright and smile true, you throw aside your worries.

the young man is true to his word. the trek into the woods only lasts a few minutes before you see it. an azure expanse of water— a secluded lake surrounded by towering oak trees and a backdrop of rolling hills.

you turn back to look at him, shocked, "how did you find this?"

"jus’ by chance a few years ago. i figured you'd been out here before, living so close," he remarks, "but i like that i got to show it to you." billy admits, a devoted glint in his eyes.

as you stand there, gazing at the serene lake, you feel a sense of wonder and gratitude for this unexpected and beautiful surprise. you can't remember the last time the familiar landscape of home felt so awing. billy seems to be taking in your reaction, a quiet satisfaction evident on his face.

"it's breathtaking." you finally say, your voice hushed in appreciation.

billy grins, seemingly pleased with your reaction, "so are you."

you turn back to the water to hide your flustered expression.

you watch him find a comfortable spot by the water's edge, sitting on a large flat rock. you follow suit, letting your head nestle into his chest. the sounds of nature surround you—the rustling leaves, the gentle lapping of the water, and the distant calls of birds. it's a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the town and the farm.

you look up at him as inconspicuously as possible, eager to commit his image to memory. his umber hair curls at the nape of his neck, slender nose burnt from the sun, his freckles apparent, and his ever-inspired blue eyes reflecting the water ahead.

you look away as your heartbeat quickens, afraid that if you peer up any longer he'll be able to hear the rhythm.

"can you swim?" you ask, toes dipping into the waters below.

billy's gaze softens, the radiant hues of his eyes flickering with warmth as he looks down at you. his calloused hand idly tracing circles on your back, comforting, "yeah, i can swim. why? you wanna go for a dip?" he replies, a playful glint dancing across his face.

enthusiastically, you nod, "i'd love to. it's been ages since i've been swimming in a place like this."

with a charismatic grin, billy stands up, extending a hand to help you rise. he doesn't hesitate to unbutton his shirt and free himself from his pants— clothed only in his black boxers.

you try to be as carefree as him, but you're slower to shed your attire. by the time you do, he's already shoulder deep in the water.

you make your way to the water's edge, stepping in. the cool embrace of the lake greets your skin as you wade in. the sun now casts a dim golden glow on the rippling surface.

as you move deeper into the water, you feel a sense of liberty wash over you. you let out a contented sigh, feeling weightless and unburdened. billy is a few feet away from you, beckoning you to come closer with a smile on his face. you oblige, splashing water playfully in your wake.

as you approach him, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. you can feel the heat emanating from his body, warming you up in the cool water. your bare skin presses against his, and you can feel a hint of longing course through your veins.

"you're s'beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "prettiest girl i've ever seen."

you chuckle slightly, looking beside him to the water, "you're just blowing smoke up my ass."

his hand finds your cheek, gently beckoning you to face him fully, "why would i ever do that?" he hums, "i only say things i mean, honey."

you blink at him, too far gone to stop your gaping, "you're a charmer, billy bonney. do you hear that a lot?"

he laughs, both hands now coming to rest at your hips, forcing you to wrap your legs around his, "i only need to hear it from you."

he says it so carelessly, without a thought. he's telling the truth, you surmise.

"why? you like me or something?" the words come out genuine, despite your teasing intent.

billy's eyes trail down to your lips, "i like you a whole lot, honey," you feel his grip grow steadier, holding you closer to him. he looks back up at you, gaze tempting, "i like you s'much i worked an extra four days on your farm jus’ to see you."

the revelation hangs in the air, and you find yourself caught in a suspended moment, the water lapping gently around you. billy's admission resonates, sinking deep into the newfound connection you've shared over these past days. his stare, earnest and reserved, locks with yours, and you can't help but feel a swirl of emotions.

a smile plays on your lips, a mixture of surprise and awe, "that's dedication." you reply, a playful sparkle in your eyes.

billy grins, his hands still securely holding you. "only for you, honey. i'm nothin' if not devoted."

you gleam at his words, intrinsically leaning closer to him. you're so close to letting your lips brush his before you stop, eager to see the weight of his affection once more, "you can kiss me now, if that's what you're waiting for."

with that, he presses his lips to yours, kissing you with a hunger that leaves you breathless. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.

billy breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses and nips along the way. you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your skin, letting out a soft sigh as he finds the sensitive spot on your neck.

"you're gonna be the death o'me." he whispers against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

your fingers tangle in his hair as he continues his assault on your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and nibbles. you can feel the heat building between your bodies, the water around you providing a cooling effect to your heated embrace.

billy's hands slip down to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him so that there's barely any space between you. he grinds his hips against yours, earning a moan from deep in your throat. you can feel his hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of his boxers.

your eyes flutter open and you lock gazes with him, the intensity of his gaze mesmerizing. you tilt your head back down, allowing him to steal another kiss. his tongue teases yours. his hands roam up and down your body, exploring every inch of you he can with a passionate fervor.

you can feel yourself being taken into the depths of him until you can barely think or breathe. it's only when he finally pulls away, that you realize the afternoon has fully evolved into the beginnings of nighttime. the sky above you is almost entirely dark, littered with stars.

somehow, you still don’t think the kiss was long enough.

billy smiles at you, brushing his hair away from his eyes. you can't help but smile back, feeling content and happy.

"i think i like you too much." he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your skin. you laugh softly, feeling the same way.

a hum of agreement, "me too." you whisper back, pulling him into a tight hug. you stay like that for a while, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace.

as the night deepens, you and billy finally decide to make your way back to the truck. billy helps you out of the water, his touch lingering as you both reluctantly part from the tranquil lake. the air is filled with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, their symphony accompanying your footsteps as you follow the narrow trail back to the pickup truck.

the woods, now cloaked in darkness, take longer to exit. the moonlight filters through the dense canopy of leaves, casting shadows on the forest floor.

once back at the truck, you find yourself wrapped in a cozy blanket billy had thoughtfully brought along. the drive home is filled with a comfortable silence, the events of the evening settling into a cherished memory. the road is dimly lit by the truck's headlights, and the night sky is a canvas of stars above.

as you approach the farmhouse, the thrill of the night lingers between you and billy. he parks the truck, and the engine falls silent. the two of you sit in the quiet for a moment, savoring the experience.

"thank you for tonight, you were real sweet." you say, breaking the silence.

billy turns to you, a peaceful smile playing on his lips. "i should be thanking you, for goin’ out with me. so thank you, darling. i think you're real sweet too."

"i'm real glad we met." you add.

he reaches over, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining in a comfortable gesture. "me too," he replies, his gaze holding yours.

with a reluctant smile, you open the truck door, preparing to step out. billy, however, stops you with a gentle tug on your hand.

"before you go," he starts, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, "i was wonderin' if you'd like to do this again sometime. maybe i could take you down to the rodeo?"

the question catches you off guard, but the sincerity in his expression is undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, and you nod, "i'd like that, billy."

he grins, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his features. "good. it's a date then." you agree, leaning up and placing a peck on his pink lips before stepping out of the truck.

it's not until you're safely inside that he drives away into the night, the sound of the engine fading into the distance.

even as you slip into bed, the memories of the night play in your mind like a vivid dream. you drift into sleep with thoughts of the lake, the evening kisses, and the now waivered apprehension of the farmhand.

you've found yourself ensnared with billy bonney.

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[undiscovered-horizon]

(tw for mentions of nudity)

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[After days of travelling, fighting and sleeping on rocks, a rest at a tavern is well-earned. Not feeling up to taste the nightlife with your friends, Gale and you retire early. The evening turns into something heartfelt and domestic as you wash his hair and hum a song he's grown all too familiar with.]

As much as Gale loves to be in the centre of your attention, it flusters him. He's grown so used to being the one doting and worshipping that he's quite unsure what to do once the roles are reversed. Is he supposed to gratefully acknowledge your efforts? Or sit twiddling his thumbs, taking whatever you give him?

How does one take affection?, he wonders in the back of his head.

The party downstairs is virtually inaudible to Gale as his mind is focused solely on the tender caress of your hands. The soap suds feel as though they transcend his skin and wash his very spirit clean. Or perhaps that's just what being loved feels like. His back is leisurely leaning against your chest. In some distant fantasy of his, you are reborn as his guardian angel.

I sowed rue in four little gardens In the fifth, I sowed periwinkle for you, Johnny

Your low singing is ringing in his ears the same way the church bell's toll is ringing in the ears of a saint - calling towards home. Gale shivers as your breath, like a ghost of love once cherished, brushes against his hot skin. The soothing sound of your voice is all too fleeting to him. If he could only grab it and bask in it any time he wishes to. Perhaps, if your place was among the stars in the night sky...?

Rue, my rue, I sowed you in the early morning I sowed you happily; grow tall, rue

He sighs, feeling your fingers tug gently at his hair. Whether you're washing it or rinsing, he's not entirely sure. The moment your fingers dragged against his skin, your nails scratched at his scalp, Gale allowed himself to drift into a comfortable limbo - somewhere between sleep and wake, between dream and reality. It is only by the melody of this song you so often sing to yourself that he can be sure he is alive and well. Otherwise, given the inexplicable lightness of his spirit, Gale might have thought he'd died and gone to wherever he deserved to spend his afterlife.

I sowed you, rue, in a wide bed I thought to myself that Johnny might come

Speaking of death: as the saying goes, 'curiosity killed the cat' and Gale, by his nature, can not help himself but die again and again.

"Not that I don't enjoy your little habit," he breaks the silence in a groggy, sleepy voice, "it's quite adorable if I may say so, but do indulge me: what is this song you're singing? I've never heard it before."

"It's a wedding song," you murmur your answer. Gale's breath hitches as he feels your lips stroke the conch of his ear. "In my hometown, there's this tradition of making newlyweds wade through the dancing guests to reach each other. If they manage to hold hands before the song ends, the Gods bless them and they shall be inseparable from that day on. It's weird how..." you hang your voice and sigh heavily, "no matter."

But Gale is quick to dismiss your silly belief that there is something uninteresting about your thoughts. "Whatever is on your mind, I long to hear it." The pleasing tone of his voice is more meaningful than the wizard's actual words.

For a moment, your careful movements come to a halt. He could, of course, protest the sudden lack of soft tugging at his hair or the pleasant scratching of his scalp but all complaints dissipate as Gale feels you resting your chin on top of his shoulder. "When I was younger, just a filly, I thought about the day I would get to nudge my way through the guests," you recall with both sadness and fondness in your voice, "but now I worry whether I will get to see the break of dawn. Odd how life can get."

He wishes to say something suave, to weave sultry words with skill comparable to Astarion's. Alas, he's too overly aware of your naked form glued to his back and your arms casually wrapped around his stomach. Yet again, Gale is flustered. "Oh, I'm no stranger to twisted and, frankly unfathomable, paths of life," he says, feigning glibness. "Having said that, you've managed to survive things most can't even dream of. If I were you, I wouldn't cross a wedding game off the list just yet."

No answer comes from you - at least not a vocal answer. You place a soft peck on top of his shoulder before going back to washing his hair and relishing in the song that reminds you of home.

The rue is withered but Johnny's not here When Sunday comes, I will be dressing up

Considering he has enough explosive energy inside him to level a city, wading through the mob of wedding guests shouldn't be a challenge. Although, if Karlach and Lae'zel are also invited...

But the doubt in Gale's mind doesn't let such fantasies go too far. First of all, would you even want to? Would you actually stand before him and proclaim to the entire world that you will love him for better or worse? As much as he believes you every time you profess your love to him, the longer he wonders about the proverbial 'until death do us part', the more he grows unsure. Because, honestly, out of all the people you've met on your travels, why would it be him? The man who famously makes bad decisions in the name of love?

Rue, my rue, grow green, rue I will cut you on an early Sunday morning

The thing that happens then leaves Gale even more confused about his own feelings and the matter of accepting affection:

You've finished washing his hair, taking your sweet time admiring the streaks of grey. Leaning back, you gently pull him along. His head falls back into the crook of your neck. If Gale had just slightly less self-control, he would have squealed when you kissed his neck and tightened your embrace around his midsection. You're holding him like a toddler holds their favourite stuffed toy and it's... nice.

Thinking about your trapping hug, Gale suddenly remembers something he wanted to share. "Did you know that a periwinkle is also called a Vinca, which means 'to bind'?"

A light-hearted chuckle rumbles in your chest. "Then I better sow a garden full of them for you."

_____

Halsin's version right here!!

(tagging those who shouted, y'all are the pillars of society: @cakenpiewhyohmy @hairlessgoblin @lillithhearts @day-dreaming-goddess @nico-ith @cakeboxie )

Your prayers have been heard!!!! (As though I didn't start writing this immediately after posting Halsin's version)

Changed the song at the last second because my former choice was a little too upbeat for the setting ("Jeleń" by Sutari, if y'all are curious)

[grugruel]

Bad News 11 |

Parts: 2/2, read part 1 HERE

Pairings: dbf!bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Inspired by, Call Me by Your Name

Summary: After giving into your desires, you have a day to spend together with your family. With a guilty contiouns and strong feelings eating away at you, can you ever be with him?

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: secret-relationship, pinv sex, public sex, thigh riding, choking, creampie, aftercare, petnames (doll, sweet girl), praise, reader being a brat, jealous!bucky, jealous!reader, angst.

AN: Thank you all for the love on part 1, and for participating in my polls! The Bucky fandom is a force to be reckoned with. Hope part 2 is satisfactory, please enjoy! <3

Cold Thoughts

The clouds were in a rush, steadily blowing by my window as I laid sleepless, observing them. Bucky filled my mind, I had to wonder why he hadnt deemed it fit for me to stay with him in his room, I already missed the safety of his embrace. But now I was worried that, perhaps, he had changed his mind.

Sighing, I pulled Buckys blanket tighter around me, nuzzling my face into it. Still smelling him. I considered it for a while, zoning out as I rubbed the fabric between my fingertips.

I was sowing doubts within myself, that combined with my hangover had headache was manifesting. Eliminating any chances I had at sleep.

I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and left my room, wandering the house in an aimless search for healthier thoughts, but my mind was drifting, always. Secretly hoping that he couldnt sleep either, that his thoughts of me was keeping him up aswell.

I walked outside, into the dim night, hoping that some fresh air would clear my mind of ache and worry. I strolled of the beaten path toward the forest, wandering in the downtrodden trail I had so many times before. The grass was coated with water droplets from yesterdays rain and the scent of it was still in the air, curing my mind and ache. I looked back toward the house, a faint red dot glowed on the upper balcony, igniting a spark of hope inside me, but it faded as quickly as it had appeared, making me think I had imagined it.

I reached the tree line, grazing the treetrunks with my fingertips as I walked past their leaved frontier, the moon shone through the crowns, illuminating the forest floor. I walked silently for a while, contemplating everything as I delved deeper into the forest. But suddenly, I heard the crunching of leaves behind me and the destinct sound of footsteps. I turned around, and there, emerging from the empty fields was Bucky. My heart skipped a beat and we froze as we locked eyes with eachother. A smile crept its way up his lips, mimicking my own. And all my previous worries escaped my mind, he hadnt been able to sleep either and followed me down here. I backed up, and slowly he stalked forward. My heart was beating ferosiously as mischief took the reins, I turned around and ran as quickly as I could manage. I heard his footsteps set of behind me as I was swerving through the trees, blanket flowing behind me, narowly avoiding low hanging branches and bushes ripping my skirt. I squeeled as his footsteps were catching up to me, he was just a few inches behind me.

I ran and ran, figuring that he shouldve caught me by now. I looked back and all of a sudden his hands found my waist, he spun us around and we fell to the forest floor laughing. I landed on top of him, my head coming to rest on his chest as he intentionally took the blow to the ground. Smelling of smoke and cologne, he wrapped one arm around my shoulders and placed the other at the small of my back. Panting, we fought to catch our breaths.

'What are you doing out here doll?' He asked between breaths.

'Couldnt sleep.' I answered and looked up at him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest.

He met my eyes, 'To busy thinking of me?' He teased, stroking strands of hair from my face so he could see me blushing better. I burried my face in his chest, embaressed. He chuckled.

'Whatever.' my voice came muffled through the fabric of his shirt, but the smile that shaped my lips could still be heard in my tone.

'I couldnt stop thinking about you either doll.' He laughed.

I blushed even harder, looking away, smiling so wide it hurt. My feelings for him were getting out of control, 'We've got ourselves in a mess Buck.' I sighed.

'You come down here often?.' He asked, changing the subject and stroked my hair.

'When I need to clear my head.' I told him quietly, playing along.

He quirked an eyebrow and grabbed my chin, moving my face to meet his, 'You needed to clear it tonight? Youre not regretting our time together are you?' He asked, uncertainty in his tone.

I was surprised by his answer, 'No, of course not. Infact, I was afraid you were.' I said, eyebrow furrowing.

He shook his head dissapointedly, 'You have no idea how wrong you are doll.' He told me tilting my chin upward to meet his lips in a soft kiss.

His answer had me smiling for the thousand time, ripping up any doubts I'd previously sown. I lost myself in his kiss, until it made me remember what we needed to discuss. 'Youre distracting me, stop. We have a very real problem Buck.' I told him seriously.

He sighed and sat up, his hand slid from the small of my back to my ass, firmly holding me against him so I wouldnt slide off as placed me neatly in his lap, stradeling him. He planted his hands behind him for support. He leaned in to kiss me again, attempting to get me on other thoughts but I pulled back and looked away nonchalantly. He expression turned displeased, but I payed him no mind. Instead, I focused on rubbing my hands together, trying to warm them as I waited for his answer. He noticed and grabbed my hands, sticking them under his shirt and laying them against his chiseled, warm torso. Hissing from the sudden feeling of my cold hands.

'Our only problem right now is us always finding ourselves in situations where you freeze.' He said, pausing as he grabbed my chin again, tilting it upward so I had to meet his eyes, 'And I always have to warm you up.' He smirked, 'Is that your go-to plan to get me into bed?' He teased again.

'Stop, oh my god.' I shook my head, embaressed again, my face flustered, but smiling increadolously. Until I reminded myself to stay focused, damn. 'You know thats not what I meant though, were always in these situations because we create them.' I told him, my smile fading.

He shook his head, 'I dont want to think about that right now. I have you infront of me, and thats all I ever want think about.' He said and circled his arms around my waist, lifting me so he could reposition himself. Sitting on his knees, then had me stradle him again, hooking my legs around his hips and held my hands at his waist.

He cupped my face and kissed me, 'You've cursed me, you know.' He whispered against my lips, his hands sliding down every curve of my body until they met my hips, grabbing them firmly. His touch putting me in a trance, his already hard to resist charm became even more difficult. I could feel his member hardening through his sweats, automatically pulling myself closer to him and closing the distance between my core and his erection. He hummed in response, 'I dont know what you did to me doll, during that first night we talked this summer.' He said in a strained voice as his hands moved my hips, helping me grind onto his hardness, earning him a whimper from me. 'But youre the only thing I ever think about, the only thing that gets me off.' He grunted, kissing me again, more desperate this time.

Hearing him confirm his feelings for me, struck up a sudden boldness in me and since he did not want to talk about our situation, the least I could do was enjoy myself at his expensd. I hummed, 'And what about the women you visit at night, huh? Whenever you head into town, always clmkng back smelling of womens perfume? You sure im the only thing that gets you off?' I breathed, smirking, as he met my eyes with annoyance.

He grabbed my face with one hand, squishing my cheeks together as his grip on my hip tightened, forcing me to grind down even harder on him. 'That, we dont talk about.' He grunted, kissing me in an attempt to quiet me, feeling finished with the subject. But I was not.

I tore free from his lips, leaning my head into the crook of his neck, kissing that sweet spot and whispering against his skin 'Do you think about me when you fuck them? Couldnt get with your friends daughter so you had to seek out other women, and pretend they were me?' I chuckled, surprised by my own audacity.

He removed the blanket frlm my shoulder, and splayed it out on the ground behind me, then grabbed my throat. He pushed me backward, one hand still supporting my back as he laid me on the ground and leaned over me, 'Does it make you jealous?' He asked and spead my legs, placing himself inbetween them, 'That I sleep with other women, then come home and smell of them?' My smile faded and I rolled my eyes, looking away, refusing to admit that he was right, 'Do you not wish it was you I smelled of instead?' He whispered against my ear and sat back. He flipped my skirt over my hips, making us both gasp. I had not put on any new underwear since he initially ripped them off, which I had completley forgotten about, this was news to the both of us. 'Tsk tsk tsk' he shook his head, pulling his pants down and his erection out. He lined himself up with my entrance and grabbed my hips.

'Doll.' He called, grabbing my attention and I reluctantly met his eyes, prepared for another snarky, probably true comment. But he only looked into my eyes, wordlessly asking for my consent, I nodded in response. My hand left his back, and caressed his cheek instead, loving that he still paid my wants mind although were in the middle of jealous fight sex.

He slid inside me gently, his breathing hitched and I moaned, a smile tugging at his lips from my reaction. Immedietly setting a rough pace, the noise of slapping skin filled the forest as the moon shone upon us. We didnt need to worry about people hearing us out here, 'Let me hear you doll.' He ordered, kissing my neck and sucking at my sweet spot. I moaned loudly, following his request, my hands roaming over his chest and back underneath his shirt. Nuzzling my face into his hair, 'Harder, faster. Please buck.' I whispered. He hummed, kissing his way down my torso and stumache, then sitting up. His hands moved back to my hips to get better leverage, and began thrusting ferociously, helping my hips meet his thrusts with his hands. 'Holy f-' I began, but my words died in my throat as a string of moans took their place.

'C'mon girl.' He urged, moving one hand to my clit, circling it with his thumb. Closing in on my orgasm.

'Yes, yes.' I hissed, the pressure building in me. His breathy moans in sync with his thrusts were pushing me over the edge, I came hard and fast, moaning loudly. Bucky continued, chasing his own high. He was not far behind me as he came himself, pulling out just in time for his seed to spurt onto my stumache. I laid splayed out on the forest floor while Bucky tucked himself away, he slid his thumb through the fluid on my stumache and held it out for me to taste. And I did,, enthusiastically I licked and sucking his thumb clean, 'Good girl.' He said proudly and pulled back, grabbing my chin and kissing me, still tasting a bit of himself.

He knelt beside me and scooped me up in his arms, 'We need to get you cleaned up before anyone wakes, sweet girl.' He said and stood up, kissing me on the forehead. He carried me back to house, half asleep in his arms. He quietly carried me upstairs, set me in the bath, filled it, cleaned me and gave me one of his shirts and shorts, then laid me back into my bed. He took the blanket, but I protested. 'I need to clean it for you.' He said.

I shook my head, 'No, please. It smells of you. Of us.'I whispered and pulled on it.

'Its dirty. . .' He insisted, but I stared him down, my grip on it proved unrelenting. He sighed, 'Fine, just let go for a sec.' He asked, and I did. He threw the bottom half through the window and shook it off, then covered me with it. The cool fabric kissed my skin, prickling it with goosebumps.

'Thank you.' I smiled.

'Try to get some proper sleep.' He whispered.

'I wont be able to if you leave.' I told him quietly, and he tilted his head to the side, looking at me with sympathetic eyes. He hesitated for a second, but laid down beside me, letting me curl up to him as he laid an arm around me. And we stayed just like that, frozen in time until I had fallen asleep and he moved back into his own room.

When I eventually woke up again, I stayed in bed for a while, wallowing, tracing the empty dent beside me, feeling its cool. I mustve slept alone for a few hours at least. The morning sun was colouring my room in soft shades of gold, warming my back as I laid faced away from the window. Giving me enough strength to start my day.

I wandered into the garden and watched the sunrays find their way through the swaying leaves of the willow tree as I laid down in the grass underneath, cherishing the sunlight as it speckled my skin with warmth, varying with the cool of the shade. The house had yet to wake up, and I suspected my family of being dangerously hungover. Sighing, I closed my eyes and my mind drifted back to bucky. His touch still fresh on my skin as I imagined the warmth from the sun as his hands, caressing my body. His soft words whispered in my ear as a love song from the 80s started playing in the kitchen, my mother was awake. My thoughts switched, the cool of the shade began reminding me of his abscene, of our strange situation and the sweetness of reminiscence quickly soured into guilt. My mothers prescence was reminding me of our betrayal, it gnawed at every positive thought I had. The guilt of our actions, the feeling that we'd made a mistake by betraying my parents trust in this way. Surely we couldnt go on, it would be immoral for either of us to do so. Yet, my biggest concern was Bucky reciprocating those feelings.

'Good morning honey.' My mother greeted me as she entered the garden and I opened my eyes.

Dazed I responded, 'Morning mom.' And stood up to help her set down plates of food for breakfast, 'Wheres the rest of the house?' I asked, following her back inte the kitchen.

'On their way, dads just brushing his teeth and your brothers somewhere around here' Sha said, handing me watermelon slices and the radio. I hummed, avoiding the abvious question. As we set down the last of the food, we took our places at the table. My father and brother joining us a few moments later, looking rather rough and we dug in.

'So, everyone ready for a day at the beach?' My father asked with a bright, sarcastic smile as the bags under his eyes gave him away. My brother and I wooped ironically, making my mother laugh. Everyone was still reeling from the aftermath of the alcohol. 'How about we continue drinking instead?' He asked again, and my mother eyed him unapreciatively. But this time we wooped enthusiastically. 'I thought we could spend the day in town, get dinner, then move to a bar.' He suggested, which actually sounded appealing.

'Sounds like a plan.' Came a voice from the doorway, Bucky. 'Good morning, party people.' He said cheapishly and we responded with tired chuckles, greeting him. He sat down at the table, doing his and my brothers silly handshake, as their bromance comamanded them to.

Conversations were stuck up, my parents were deep in discussion about buying new clothes for my father, and they roped me in for my opinions on the matter. My brother and Bucky were talking about something else, 'Sleep well?' He asked Bucky, suddenly grabbing my attention. I looked at him and our eyes met, exchaning glances and knowing smiles.

'Never slept better.' He asnwered, facing away, grinning into his food and I chuckled silently.

'Yeah, whats so funny?' My brother asked, glancing between the two of us.

'Nothing, just. . . A joke I remembered.' Bucky managed, smiling, I continued with my own conversation as my sweet, oblivious brother wanted to hear the joke aswell and Bucky had to bullshit answers.

When breakfast was done, we got ready to head into town, then gathering outside by the front of the house. 'Car or bikes?' Asked my father, 'Someones gonna have to abstain from drinking if we take the car.' He said apologeticly.

'How about-' I began.

'Well-' my brother also cut in, about to suggest something, but dad interuppted the both of us.

'Oor, how about this?' he said, raising a finger in the air, 'We take the car into town, and walk home.' He clapped his hands together, as if it was the most genuis thing, 'Fantastic idea guys.' He said, laying an arm around each of us, smiling proudly.

I met ny brithers eyes and shook my head, we laughed, 'Sure, sounds great dad.' I answered to appease him.

'Theres only 4 seats in the car.' Bucky pointed out, making dads smile fall and let go of us.

He put a finger to his mouth, deep in thought and spoke 'Someones gonna have to share, your mother and I are upfront. We'll leave this to the three of you.' He said, laying an arm around my mothers shoulder as she put her hand on his chest, nodding approvingly.

Raising my brows, I looked at the other two. They were as surprised as me, but we huddled together, discussing our plans. 'Whats up with dad?' I asked and my brother cut in.

'This much drinking and breaking safety rules?' He pointed out, sounding stunned.

'He gets like this sometimes, hes excited. Leave him be.' Bucky defended him, my brother raised his hands, backing off from the subject. The three of us exchanged glances, I already knew who I wanted to share with, but I couldnt just say it. Buckys gaze lingered on mine, he was thinking the same thing.

'Well?' I looked at them expectantly, 'Im sorry to say but, the idea of sitting in your lap, brother.' I said, overly pronouncating the last word, 'Isnt very appealing.'

'Yeah? Im not thrilled about the prospect of either of you, sister or mr muscle man over here. You must weigh a ton dude.' He gestured towards Bucky, who rolled his eyes.

'Why dont you sit in Bucks lap then?' I teased, to which Bucky huffed.

My brother mimicked my expression and mocked my words, 'Why dont you sit- bla bla bla, you sit in his lap then.' He said annoyed, my stumache tickled, the butterflies were waking up.

'I- whatever, im tired of this.' I told him, feigning irritation because the decision was taking to long.

Bucky clapped his hands together, 'Its decided, youre sitting with me doll, I dont see another outcome.' He said, sounding impatient but acting nonchalant.

'Sure. Its all the same to me.' I said, boredom lining my voice and shrugged, all the while the butterflies in my stumache were waltzing.

We degrouped and rejoined my parents, 'Im sitting with Buck.' I declared.

'Fantastic! He'd act as the strongest belt anyway, keep her safe.' My father said, elbowing Bucky in the side, to which he nodded. A pang of guilt hit me, dad has so much trust in Bucky. I met his eyes, my eyebrows furrowing. He tilted his head, sharing my feelings. I had to look away.

'Really, C'mon, dad.' My brother raised his hands in the air, attacked from nowhere.

'Sorry son, youre not, not strong.' Dad said, as it was any better and opened the car door for mom, then took his place by the stearing wheel. My brother sighed, defeated and took his own seat. Bucky opened the door, sat down and patted his thigh, nodding his head for me to sit. I inhaled a shaky breath and sat in his lap, he snaked his arms around my waist and held me tightly in place.

The car ride wasnt to long, and it was relatively uneventful. We were talking about nothing special, when Bucky, from nowhere grabbed my thigh. He unhooked the arm closest to the door from my waisr and laid his hand on the outside of my thigh, as invisible as it could come. He slid it up toward the hem of my skirt and massaged circles with his thumb. He grabbed the hem, snaking his fingers under it, grabbing the fabric and pulling upward to reveal more skin. I clutched his wrist in warning, and he pecked my shoulder in apology. I looked around the car, making sure everyone was minding their own business. They were talking, and we were answering questions and asking them in return, all the while bucky was stroking my thigh, a strange feeling. Unexpectedly, there was a bump in the road, I wouldve gone airborn if Bucky hadnt pulled me tighter against him. But in the same motion, I accidentaly grinded against his lap. And he grunted at the feeling, playing it off as a cough. 'Everything alright back there?' Mom asked.

Dad hissed, 'Sorry you guys, didnt see that bump!' Dad apologised.

'We're-' I began, feeling Bucky getting hard beneath me, 'Im- im fine, it wasnt to bad!' I assured him. I was getting flashbacks to the forest, Bucky hard beneath me, grinding against erection. Us kissing, him touching my body. I grabbed his wrist harder from the memories, clearing my throat. Bucky squeezed my thigh, then moved his hand to my waist, hooking his finger through a belt loop on my skirt and left it there for what remained of the ride. By the time we arrived, Buckys hard on had disappeared.

We were crusing the streets, checking out interesting shops and getting clothes for dad. Passing time and enjoying eachothers company. We got dinner and sat outside as we cought the last rays of the efternoon sun, laughing and chatting, sipping more wine. It made me think of the time before Bucky and I had anything to hide, when there were no overhanging secrecy to our dynamic. When we could talk and hang out with no hidden meaning behind our words or glances. When we didnt have to second guess my familys knowledge of our actions. It brought me into a somber mood, and Bucky being unwilling to discuss us was not helping. I wish I could push the guilt aside like he seems to, and just enjoy the happy parts of our conjoining instead. But at the end of the day, their my family. Their expectations were not weighing him down the same way they did me. My fathers voice brought me out of my thoughts, or rather the subject of his words did.

'You gonna have any women meet us at the bar Buck?' He asked him, it was a serious question but he laughed as he asked it. Knowing it was something Bucky rather kept to himself.

Buck chuckled in annoyance, 'Always as funny.' A strained smile forming on his lips. This, I was not in the mood for. I took my wine glass, hastily drinking it.

'Whats your plan, have anyone you wanna settle down with?' My mother asked him innocently, obviously unaware of my feelings regarding the matter. Bucky glanced around nervously, clearly embaressed by the grilling. His eyes met mine for a second, looking apologetic. Which only annoyed me more, I poured myself another glass of wine and finished it within minutes. My drinking was alarming him as he shut the questions down with a bunch of, 'Im not sure.' And 'We'll see.' Trying to be kind although it was bothering him.

'Lay off him.' My brother spoke, 'Youre like hawks, damn.' And Bucky gave him a grateful nod in return.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, pushing a smile 'Should we get going?' I asked, eager to leave their conversation behind me.

My father immedietly waved a waiter down, 'Great idea!' The waiter was a cute guy around my age, and with my annoyance at Bucky, concerning us, concerning his women, it resparked the jelousy in my already bad mood. So I flirted with the guy, and gave him my number as he left.

My mother had been eyeing him aswell, 'He was cute.' She whispered to me.

'Right?' I nodded, smiling.

'Im sitting right here.' Dad objected, crossing his arms and pouting. Mom stroked his shoulder apologeticly.

'Yeah, so cute.' My brother cut in sarcastically, and I slapped him playfully on the arm, rolling my eyes.

Bucky sat in silence, pinning me with his gaze and trying his very best to hide the irritation that was bubblig up inside him. Which only made me smile brighter, I had found a way to lighten my mood, and simultaneously found my entertainment for the night. It wasnt really his fault, I shouldnt be taking my frustration out on him. But I was in a devilish mood.

As we found our way to the bar, my brother and dad took the lead in drinking, I was hanging back a little bit. The mjsic was blaring through the speakers, 'Seen anyone of interest?' Dad half-shouted at Bucky.

He looked at me and smirked, 'As a matter of fact I have.' Bucky said and stood up from the bar, walking toward me. My eyes widened, I was horrified. He wasnt gonna expose us, was he? But turns out, I was worried for naught. Because he walked right past me to the woman sitting behind me, and immedietly began flirting with her. I had to clench my jaw to stop it from falling to the floor, anger sizzled inside me as I looked at them. I met his eyes for a second and he winked at me, oh game on.

I stomped onto the dance floor, found the first good looking guy I saw and laid my arms around his neck. 'Well hello cutie.' He shouted over the music.

'Hey there stranger, wanna dance?' I asked loudly, and he nodded enthusiastically. We locked hands as we danced together, he twirled me in circles, stopped me, put his hands on my waist and pulled me close to him, my back against his chest as I swayed my hips to the music and he followed my movements. His hands were sliding up my thighs as I threw a glance Buckys way, who was staring at me, I could see him clenching his fist from here. He turned back to the woman, his furious expression melting into charm as he stroked a strand of hair behind her ear, she laid a hand on his knee in return. I cursed him silently, I had to one up him. 'Twirl me.' I told the guy and he did, then pullled me close again, hands found their way back to my waist, but we were chest to chest this time. I traced a finger along his jaw as we danced, I leaned closer to his ear and asked 'Kiss me?' and he obliged, not even taking a second to think about it, his lips met mine. When I looked back to where Bucky was sitting, he quickly averted his gaze from mine. Said something to the woman, to which she grabbed his hand and led him toward the exit. I began panicking, surely he wouldnt sleep with her? 'Could you excuse me for a second, I'll be right back.' I said in a hurried tone and made my way to the exit. I passed my family, who were caught up in a lively discussion, with several empty shotglasses infront of them. They wouldnt notice that I was missing for a while. I opened the door and stepped outside, he stood leaned against the railing enclosing the outdoor seating are, watching me as I approached him. The sound of the music druzzled iut into the air as the door shut behind me, only the thumping could be heard through the exterior. He was smoking, and the woman was nowhere to be seen. I breathed out a sigh of relief as a weight dissapeared from my heart. 'I thought you went home with her.' I said and leaned against the railing next to him, holding onto it.

He chuckled in disbelief, shaking his head 'Would that have been taking it to far?' He asked and took a drag of his cigarette.

I looked at him with furrowed brows and wet eyes, tears welling in them. 'What are we doing Buck?' I asked sniffing, 'To ourselves, to eachother, to my family.'

He looked at me, anger melting away from him as he saw my face, 'I care about you, and you care about me. Why should anything else matter?' He asked, sighing.

'Because, you do not care for me the way youre expected to, or I you. My feelings for you pass far beyond what they should be for the best friend of my dad.' I whispered, he took another drag and laid his hand on top of mine, stroking circles with his thumb. I looked down at our hands, noting the difference in size and age, 'I just- I wish you could hold me right now, but its not possible. We will never be able to have a normal relationship.' I said, my voice breaking as tears start falling down my cheeks.

'Doll, please.' He began with sadness in his tone. But I couldnt take it any longer, I pulled my hand away and ran, ran down the street, ran until the music had completley faded. My blood rushed through my ears, I could hear nothing but my own heartbeat. And for the second time today, he caught me. He circled his arms around me and pulled me into the nearest empty alleyway. 'You need to stop running from me, doll.' He panted against my ear, backing me up against a cold stone wall. 'Listen to me, please.' He grabbed my face, turning me to look at him but I closed my eyes and shook my head, I just couldnt deal with it right now, with him. 'Please, please. . . Doll.' He whispered in desperation, something in his voice compelled me, reluctantly, I opened my eyes. 'Youre everything to me, we'll get through this. I dont know when and I dont know how, but we will.' He said and cupped my face, stroking tears from my cheeks. I wanted to belive him so desperately, I leaned my head against the wall, looking up at the light from a streetlamp. 'I promise.' He whispered and kissed my collarbone, kissing his way up my neck and along my jaw. I tilted my head down to face him, hovering my lips over his, 'I promise.' He repeated, his breath humid on my lips and I met them in a feverish kiss. I would have him anyway I could.

'Your mine, Buck. Im yours, take me.' I breathed between kisses, he slid his hands down my body, down my thighs and under my skirt, finding purchase under my ass and in one smooth motion raised me into his arms. I circled my legs around his hips as he leaned me against the wall, his hands free to unbuckle his belt. I kissed him wildly, desperately, I just needed him. As his belt was unbuckled his hands returned to my waist and the small of my back, I put my hands down his pants and stroked him, earning myself a grunt from him. I pulled him out, pulled my panties to the side and lined him up with my entrance, impatient for the feeling of him filling me up. 'Please Bucky, just yours.' I whispered, and he didnt hesitate, lowering me onto his length as he slid inside. Setting a hard pace as he helped my hips rut against his every thrust. I snaked my arms around his shoulders, holding onto his neck and hair for support as a scream almost slipped out of me, but I let my head fall against his shoulder and bit down in his flesh, skin and fabric muffling my scream. He hissed at the sensation, but didnt mind all that much. The sound of rough slapping echoed through the alley, making me realise how dangerous this was. Someone could walk by any moment, 'Faster Buck.' I ordered and his pace hastened. Pressure was building inside me, I was close to coming. Buckys relentless thrusting was pushing me over the edge, quickly I came in a blind, white hot surge of pleasure. Moaning against his skin as he kissed my neck, his pace becoming irregular and came himself shortly after me.

All of a sudden I heard footsteps passing by the alley, Bucky and I froze as we simultaneously looked the other way, hiding our faces. There was a whispered 'Holy shit.' And laughing from the street as they ran away. We sighed in relief and he set me down on shaky legs, he tucked himself away and simultaneously we began laughing. Uncontrollaby, the strangeness of this whole situation had us giggling like school girls, all the while I could feel him dripping out of me.

As we caught our breath, he hugged me 'We need to be more careful doll.'

I leaned back and side-eyed him, 'You dont say?'

He grabbed my chin and kissed me 'Dont give me attitude right now.' He whispered against my lips and circled an arm around my waist for support. Silently and slowly we made our way back to the bar, ready to end the night.

When we arrived, my family was emerging from the bar and waved when they saw us. 'I was wondering where you'd gone off to!' Dad exclaimed.

'Someone wanted to go for a walk' Bucky said, nodding to me, 'And seeing as she couldn't walk straight I figured it'd be best if I accompanied her.' He chuckled.

'What a gentleman, looking after our girl.' Mom said, adoration in her gaze as she looked at Bucky. I chuckled, straining to repress a second outburst of laughter and Bucky poked me in the ribs in silent warning.

'Good man!' Dad said and punched Bucky playfully on the shoulder, 'But we should really get going if we want to arrive home before the sun comes up.'

'And whos fault is that?' I asked, daring fate.

Dad quirked an eyebrow at my remark and ruffled my hair. 'Lets go kiddo.' He laid an arm around me, taking Buckys place and we were homebound.

I threw a glance his way as Bucky fell into pace next to my brother, who was chatting naerrily with him. Bucky nodded, mouthing 'Its okay doll.'

Accepting that this was our reality.

Tags: @larajadeschmidt13 @cjand10

[adumbratrapedme]

Toxic!bf!Tsukishima headcanons - gaslighting

Kei Tsukishima, with his sarcastic and seemingly indifferent personality, might appear harmless. However, beneath that facade, he could exert subtle and manipulative control over his partner through gaslighting.

╭⋅ Denies Reality: Tsukishima is a master at minimizing your feelings and experiences. If you express your concerns or feel hurt, he'll definitely tell you that you're being too sensitive or that you're overreacting. ╭⋅ Reverses Roles: He'll somehow make you feel guilty for his actions, blaming you for his bad behavior or for the problems in the relationship and even for the problems in his life, oh, they lost a match? your fault. Your yelling distracted him. ╭⋅ Sows Seeds of Doubt: He'll constantly question your judgment and abilities, making you doubt yourself and your perception of reality. ╭⋅ Makes You Feel Crazy and dumb: He'll make you believe that you're imagining things or that you're being too dramatic, and will even make you doubt ur intelligence, did u got a low score at an exam you studied a weak for? yeah, you might need to drop that class, seems like is too much for your little dumb brain. ╭⋅ Uses Sarcasm as a Weapon: His sarcastic and condescending comments can be very hurtful and undermine your self-esteem. ╭⋅ Makes You Feel Grateful for Scraps: He'll make you feel lucky for any show of affection or attention, no matter how small, just keep you hooked. He’ll probably make you have a very low self-esteem and make you believe no one else will love you or that you wont be enough for any other person.

The air in kei’s bedroom hung heavy, thick with unspoken tension. Y/N sat on the edge of the couch, picking at a loose thread on her jeans, while Tsukishima scrolled through his phone, seemingly indifferent to the atmosphere.

"Kei," she began, her voice barely a whisper, "I don't feel so comfortable when you to spend so much time with Yamaguchi."

Tsukishima scoffed, his gaze finally leaving his phone. "And why is that, Y/N? Are you jealous?"

"Jealous? No, of course not. It's just… you spend all your free time with him. We hardly ever do anything together anymore… no dates, no talks, no calls, nothin… i barely even saw you this week."

"Oh, please," Tsukishima scoffed again, "Don't be so dramatic. Yamaguchi is my best friend. Besides, you're always busy with your projects at the “art club”." He used air quotes mockingly.

Y/N bristled. "My art and club is important to me, Kei. Just like volleyball is important to you."

"Of course it is," he said dismissively. "But you spend hours locked in your room making “art”, if you can even call it like that, barely talking to me."

"Because you're always with Yamaguchi!" she retorted, her voice rising, visibly hurt at his words, “if you can even call it like that”? what did that mean?

Tsukishima sighed dramatically. "See? This is what I'm talking about. You're always making a big deal out of nothing. You're so sensitive."

Y/N felt a wave of dizziness. Was she really being too sensitive? Maybe Tsukishima was right. She always seemed to be the one causing problems.

He noticed her deflated expression and a flicker of something akin to amusement crossed his face. "Look," he said, his voice softening slightly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a jerk, but you always come at me with some stupid problem that basically ends up being your fault, Maybe you should stop being a manager at the art club… it only distances us, we could spend more time together.."

Y/N managed a weak smile. "It's okay… perhaps you are right, i might end up dropping it… i dont think im even that good, and i would like to see you more often"

"See how easy it was? Now come here," he said, patting the space beside him.

Hesitantly, Y/N moved closer, sinking into the cushions beside him. He put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "I love you, you know," he murmured, his voice low and intimate.

Y/N relaxed against him, the warmth of his body a comforting presence. She almost forgot about the argument, the hurt, the doubt that had been creeping into her mind. Almost.

This was a pattern. Tsukishima would push her buttons, make her feel small and insignificant, and then, just when she was about to break, he would offer a fleeting apology and draw her back in. It was exhausting, but she was starting to wonder if she was the one who was truly broken.

And i know some of you headcanon freaky ahh guchi as a cutie pie but i just know little prick even helps him, y'all cant trick me, he IS a little bitch too, just a little shy with others that arent tsukki.

[lets-try-some-writing]

For the Death Korps au, how, well, sapient are the Primes? Like are brainwashed till they're borderline beast with a homing insinct for all the places to hit where it will hurt, or are they just feral with bloodlust and fanatism with unfortumate intelligent to make it hurt

Also, since Primes are solitary and don't do well together, would a Decepticon have a higher chance of making it out somewhat-less painfully maim or are they in for a verry horrible last monment?

The Death Korps AU Primes have intelligence levels that vary WILDLY depending on personality. But generally speaking, Primes fresh out of training end up with one of three different mentalities, as evidenced by Optimus, Sentinel, and Elita.

Sentinel is the embodiment of the first wave of Primes to have been made during the great war. His brand of Prime are far easier to produce than the other two varieties since most civilians tend to fall to base instinct when stressed. Savage, brutal, and constantly on the hunt, he and those like him value strength over all else. They are akin to targeted air strikes when they are deployed simply because nothing else matters to them except the target in question. They won't actively fight one another, generally speaking. But two Primes like Sentinel certainly won't help each other either. The target comes first, and these brand of Primes are not above slaughtering civilians to get to their prize. For them, it is not about morality or duty, it's about the hunt. These Primes are often thrown onto the battlefield in order to sow chaos and cause as much destruction as possible. Often, they need to be tranquilized after deployment if they fail to kill the target.

Elita is the result of the cumulative efforts of the science division and their attempts to create unorthodox Primes with far greater intelligence than their first wave counterparts. Being a second wave Prime, Elita and Primes like her are far more cunning than their more brutal counterparts. They are the ones who will spend days, weeks, even years preparing the correct situation in which to strike. They are bloodthirsty, just like the first wave. But unlike Sentinel, Elita is patient. She and her type of Prime are content to stake out a location for as long as necessary and often, her brand of Prime serves as an assassin. Get in and get out. Hit the target and move to the next one. Efficiency above all else. Minimize or localize allies loses when possible. In light of this, her variety of Prime do not work together, period. Often, they will even try to kill one another if they engage while on the field in order to claim credit for a hit. There are not many Primes like Elita, and it is for this and several other sabotage related reasons.

Both Elita and Sentinel's variety of Prime lack morality more often than not, and their reason for serving the Autobots is entirely because of loyalty coding, not duty or other sentimental reasons.

Optimus's variety of Prime is not exactly rare like Elita's category, but they are uncommon. His type of Prime is born of increadible comradery and a genuine desire to fight for some moral cause. Some are highly intelligent, others are not. Some are stunning warriors on par with Sentinel and his kind, a handful match Elita's skill, but more often than not, these Primes are set apart by their aptitude as commanders. They are an almost happy middle ground between both designs of Prime, usually serving to cut down ground troops while their more focused counterparts aim for direct targets. Optimus and his kind are the ones who manage battlefronts, leading armies and holding entire theaters. They keep things going while the other Primes fight, and they don't need loyalty coding because they actually believe in what they are doing.

Optimus and his type of Prime are the only ones who are known to be capable of working with other Primes, although it is more of a begrudging tolerance in light of the mission. He and his lot still hate working with other Primes since they tend to view their counterparts as savages and traitors waiting to strike, respectively. They are loyal to the empire, and as such, are generally given access to more data than everyone else.

Hence, Megatron's desire to get Optimus to swap sides.

A Decepticon who runs into Sentinel's brand of Prime may make it out alright, maybe a bit of maiming at worst if they can't get to the skies fast enough. A Con who catches sight of Elita or one of hers has a fifty fifty chance of making it out alive. Lastly, one who meets Optimus or his variety of Prime on the battlefield has a life expectancy entirely dependent upon the uniqueness of the Prime they are fighting. The small terrors are not a death sentence, but they can be if a Decepticon isn't wary. There's a reason Megatron hasn't gotten sniped yet.

[my-current-obsession]

I am overall very much enjoying Guardians of Azuma, but I'm torn about some things.

In theory I LIKE that every love interest has a story/subplot dedicated to them, but the fact that nearly ALL of them are gated by the main story compels me to race through the game rather than taking my time. Literally my favorite thing about previous Rune Factory games is the laidback pace, slowly raising affection with and getting to know your love interests as you tackle the plot and dungeons at your own pace. In 3, you have a limited number of quests you can do in a day, which translates to HAVING to take things slow to get through more girls' stories before the end. In 4 I was in no rush because I was at the whims of RNG with town events, so waiting longer just gave me more days to potentially get events. With 5, I don't believe any of the love interests' events were story-locked (and if they were the game didn't SHOW it so I had no reason to rush looking for more content), so you could just breeze through them as they showed up.

But in this game? I have several love interests that are TECHNICALLY available from the very start (or at least early on) and it's starting to look like I have to outright beat the game to unlock the rest of their stories so I can actually potentially date them. And that's not even addressing that a good chunk of love interests only become available AT ALL near the very end of the game. Considering how much the advertising promoted the romance aspect of this game you'd think it would be possible to see it BEFORE beating the game and having only minor incentive to keep playing.

Beyond that... I really enjoy the combat and exploration of this game, but I think it was focused on to the detriment of the usual core formula of RF games. With the town building mechanic, it's changed farming into something you basically either leave entirely to the villagers, or spend A LOT of time carefully micromanaging four towns' farms yourself while assigning all the villagers to other jobs. There's no happy medium. Try to do A BIT of farming, focusing on raising certain crops or leveling certain things, and the villagers will inevitably get in your way by harvesting something before you can reap it or sowing seeds in field space you wanted to use another way. But it really is so much effort and time to spend doing all the farm work yourself. Especially since the very necessary fire sword to get higher level seeds is slow and clunky.

For most of the game I have tried to do some farming, mostly to level up my crops, but it's been a frustrating experience trying to work around the villagers. Now that I'm near the end I'm leaving it all to them as I race for the finish line (literally just so I can unlock all my love interests and date who I want), and I plan to manage the farming entirely by myself after beating the game, since I'll have the time instead of spending all my time chipping away at a new dungeon.

Monster allies feel entirely superflous in this game, tbh. Not only does it take forever to unlock them compared to other games, but they seem to all be "attackers" in a game that actually has roles for your party, encouraging a diverse team. This game also has some amazing banter between characters in the field, so using a slot for a monster is a slot taken away from a character who could have a more useful role and at the very least has entertaining dialogue.

Rapidly losing your health starting at midnight to "encourage" you to go to bed is a bit much. At least when paired with the fact that "hang out" options (as in, how you actually gain a good amount of points with people each day) take up time. You either need to be incredibly selective about who you hang out with so you have more time, OR you only have around six hours a day to actually get shit done. I understand and even agree that SOME sort of limit forcing you to sleep is good. But midnight is too soon. 2 am seems more reasonable, giving players a few more hours to work with while still meaning Kaguya/Suburu gets at least 3 hours a night.

Finally, I wish fishing was unlocked way earlier (again, as it usually is). Fishing has always been a good way to spend the last few hours of a day if you have nothing better to do in RF, but here I had to get deep into the game to get that luxury.

I want to stress that despite my complaints I really do love this game. But I've heard some others express the sentiment that this doesn't quite feel like Rune Factory, and I kind of agree. The things I like about it and how I play are so different from the core series. It's a side game/spinoff, so I can understand the differences. And I honestly love the story, it's my favorite of all the games I've played thus far. While the stories of the love interests that I've actually been able to play so far have been a tad hit or miss for me, the main story is SO good and the six gods individually and as a group are great.

But when I inevitably come back to this game, it won't be for the relaxing experience I love from other RF games. It will be because I specifically miss and want to re-experience these characters and this story, or because I enjoy the exploration and party banter. As far as actual farming and romance go I'd probably stick with other RF games.