#i really need to catch up on whats been going on lately i have NOT checked this site at all 😭😭

[rhiannonsknife]

could I put in a request for Lucy MacLean x Wasteland!reader? you both find shelter and you usually take first watch because you’re used to staying up late. Except Lucy has a habit of making your job harder than it has to be because she just starts yapping and won’t go to sleep right away. Take yesterday night for example, you underestimated her ability to run out of things to talk to you about and you lost about 2-3 hours of sleep because of it. Tonight, Lucy’s about 15 minutes into her yap session when you randomly ask her if she wants to have sex, she’s delighted at the idea and agrees. You wanna tire this woman out, what’s a more efficient method than giving her a few orgasms? (maybe even include this being Lucy’s first time being eaten out?)

── GUILTY PLEASURE

— summary: lucy won’t stop talking.

— warnings: kind of inexperienced!lucy. fem!reader. nsfw content. mdni. this took me a month to edit but here we are.

the shelter you’d stumbled upon earlier isn’t much. it’s hardly anything at all: half a roof, crumbling walls, and a faint musty smell.

still, it seemed better than sleeping under the open sky where god knows what could catch you off guard. so, you decide to settle yourself near the door, leaning against the wall with your weapon in easy reach. first watch, as always.

and, as always, lucy is making it harder than it needs to be.

she’s sprawled on her bedroll a few feet away, her head propped on her pack like a makeshift pillow. the dim glow of the dying embers between you throws flickering shadows across her face, as she talks.

“-and, i mean, who even puts that much trust in a filtration system, you know?” she says, her tone exasperated. “it’s like, sure, the overseers say it’ll last forever, but what happens when the pipes get clogged? no backup system, no-“

you pinch the bridge of your nose, cutting her off before she can spiral any further into whatever story she’s telling you from her life in vault 33. “lucy-“

“what?”

“i thought we agreed you’d try to sleep during my watch!”

“we did,” she says, shifting to rest on her elbows now . never a good sign. “but you’re awake anyway, so it’s not like i’m interrupting anything. besides, you’re terrible at keeping yourself entertained. i’m doing you a favor!”

you give her a flat look. “i don’t need ‘to be entertained’. i need quiet!”

lucy scoffs. “quiet seems overrated. besides, what if something sneaks up on you? you’ll want me awake to watch your back.”

“that’s literally my job right now,” you deadpan, gesturing toward what once was a door.

“okay, fair,” she says with a shrug. “but what if you fall asleep? then we’re both screwed!”

you let your head fall back against the wall with a soft thud, staring at the cracked ceiling. “lucy, if i fall asleep, it’ll be because you spent all night talking about pipes and filtration systems instead of letting me do my job and i’ve bored myself to death!”

“i’m just saying, vault-tec could’ve planned better” lucy goes on after a short pause, like you’ve never asked her to stop at all. “like, one person on maintenance for an entire level? no wonder the water tasted weird that day!”

this has been your dynamic ever since you met her: lucy talking your ear off, filling the silence with anything and everything that comes to her mind.

“do you ever stop?” you ask, arching an eyebrow at her.

“not really,” lucy says, grinning. “another thing,” she leans forward slightly. “i get why you’re all about this ‘quiet’ thing, but maybe you’d actually enjoy these little watch shifts if you talked more. or, you know, let me help you stay awake!”

you scoff. “help me stay awake?”

“yeah,” she says. “like conversations, or games, or- i don’t know, literally anything but sitting there staring into the darkness like some broody protagonist in a bad holotape!”

“you’re unbelievable.” you laugh, despite yourself.

she beams, triumphant, and leans back again, her hands clasped behind her head. “you’re welcome.”

the wasteland beyond the door feels vast and empty, the moonlight barely illuminating the cracked ground and jagged ruins. you focus on the shadows, your grip tightening slightly on your rifle. lucy’s voice continues behind you, her words blending into the ambient hum of the night.

another ten minutes of this pass, your patience wearing thinner with every syllable; your initial plan to just wait for her to get sleepy doesn’t seem to be working.

“if i had been in charge of the vault party planning committee, there’s no way they would’ve run out that fast” she’s currently recalling. “it’s simple logistics. one crate for every-“

“lucy,” you interject, your voice flat.

“what?”

“are you ever going to go to sleep?”

“eventually,” she says with a shrug. “it’s not like i’m bothering you, right?”

you sigh, defeated. “you are absolutely bothering me,”

she ignores that completely, her tone turning thoughtful. “it’s kinda nice, though, isn’t it? i talk, you listen, we bond. i mean, sure, you don’t say much, but that’s probably because you’re so fascinated by what i have to say-“

“lucy…”

“-which i get! not everyone grew up in a vault, so my perspective is pretty-“

“lucy!”

she finally pauses. “yes?”

you turn fully, leaning your shoulder against the wall as you cross your arms. “do you want to have sex?”

the words hang in the air for a beat, and for once, lucy falls completely silent. you watch as her face cycles through surprise, confusion, and delight in rapid succession.

“wait, what?” she asks, already sitting up. “do i- are you serious?”

you shrug, trying to look nonchalant despite the heat creeping up your neck. “you’re not gonna sleep, and you’re definitely not gonna let me do my thing. i figure if i wear you out, i might actually get some peace and quiet tonight,”

lucy blinks at you, and then, once you’re fairly sure she will turn the insane offer down, she grins.

you‘ve thought about it before. not about sex, necessarily, but tamer things: you found yourself staring at lucy in the rare moments when she wasn’t chatting away, eyes studying her features whenever she hadn’t been looking your way. you thought about kissing her, too, about her body against yours and-

well, perhaps you had thought about sex with her.

you never figured out what vault dwellers like her learned about sex down there. only that, presumably, she does seem to know what you’re on about, judging by her enthusiasm.

“this is the best thing you’ve suggested so far,” she says, already tossing aside her blanket and crossing the small room to stand beside you.

lucy lingers above you for a moment, her eyes scanning over you as if weighing her next move. she takes her time. when she finally lowers herself into your lap, it’s with purpose, every movement measured. her weight presses into your thighs, grounding you in place, while her palms rest on your shoulders. lucy’s thumbs gently trace circles on your skin through your clothes as her eyes search yours.

to your surprise, you are the first to falter under her gaze, something lucy so clearly relishes. a satisfied glint flickers in her eyes just before her hands glide up, fingers curling around your jaw as she cups your face. without warning, she tilts your head back, guiding your gaze to hers again, brushing absently over the corner of your lips.

“don’t look away now,” she murmurs, a teasing rasp, her breath ghosting over your skin.

her thumb and forefinger catch your chin, holding it firmly as she hovers there, close, her lips parting ever so slightly as if to speak.

just when you think you can’t stand it any longer, lucy finally leans in.

her lips meet yours, soft at first, almost tentative, like she's waiting for some kind of reaction. she grazes the sides of your face, memorizing the feel of you beneath her touch. the kiss deepens quickly, the tension from earlier bleeding away into something much softer, more urgent.

her confidence only falters when she first tries to grind down against your pelvis, searching for a friction you cannot provide. you’re not sure what she had expected, or if she’s moving on instinct, but this is when it seems to sink in that lucy is in no position to fully take the lead here.

“are you a virgin?” you blurt at her puzzled expression.

“no!” lucy says, shaking her head. “no, it’s not- i got married remember…?” she grimaces, recalling the events that had followed her rather short lived ‘marriage’ in vault 33.

“okay, so…” you start. “what’s going on here, then?”

“i-” her gaze flicks between you and some point over your shoulder. her cheeks flush. “i just- well, you know, it’s not that different, right?”

“lucy…” your voice softens, even as you fight back a laugh. “do you actually know what you’re doing?”

“yes!” she says immediately, too quickly. then she hesitates. “well…sort of?”

you give her a look, and her face crumples into a sheepish grimace.“okay, fine, no,” lucy admits, throwing her hands up in defeat. “but i wasn’t going to say that out loud! i thought i could just…figure it out as we went.”

you sigh, though there’s no real annoyance in it. “you’ve been with someone before. why didn’t you-”

“because it’s different!” she interrupts, her voice rising again. “i mean, for one thing, he wasn’t…” she waves her hand vaguely in your direction, her words trailing off like she’s afraid to finish the thought.

“a woman?” you supply.

“yes, exactly,” lucy nods. then, as if to clarify: “not that that’s bad! it’s just- i don’t really know what i’m supposed to- how i’m supposed to…” her voice fades again, and she presses her lips together, clearly frustrated with herself.

“lucy,” you say gently, drawing her attention back to you. “it’s not something you’re supposed to just know. especially if…” you pause, hesitant to touch on something that might sting. “especially if it wasn’t…encouraged where you grew up,”

she frowns, her brows pulling together. “yeah, well, vault 33 wasn’t exactly a…bastion of sexual enlightenment! marriage, reproduction, carrying on the bloodline…i suppose it was always about the next generation, never about- this!”

lucy sighs.

“and, look,” her words come in a rush now, like she’s determined to explain everything before you can judge her. “it’s not like i have a problem with it! i mean, clearly, i don’t, because we’re, uh, doing…whatever this is. i just…i guess i thought it’d be easier to figure out!”

you reach up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. all your previous annoyance has melted away, replaced by a need to show her that this -sex- could be about so much more than just reproduction. “you don’t have to figure it out all at once, you know. we’ve got time!”

lucy’s gaze meets yours, hesitant but hopeful. “we do?”

“yeah,” you say softly, your fingers lingering against her cheek. “you don’t have to take the lead here, either. just…trust me, okay?”

“okay,” she says quietly. “okay, i trust you,”

“good,” you lean up, brushing your lips against hers, slow and careful. her shoulders relax immediately, and when she kisses you back, it’s sweeter than before: less frantic, more curious, like she’s letting herself feel everything for the first time.

you kiss her slowly at first, moving your lips in sync with lucy’s. she’s following your lead now, letting you set the pace of your mouths. she still seems as eager though, and when she starts moving her hips again, you’re prepared:

instead of your pelvis, you maneuver her so that she’s grinding on your thigh, finally giving her access to the friction she’d been searching for.

“o-oh-“ lucy mewls softly, her head lulling back as she ruts against you for a little while. you can feel the warmth radiating from between her legs already, damp through the fabric of her suit.

taking it off will be a risk, of course: stripping naked would make a quick escape damn near impossible. but you decide that, as you feel her arousal drag over your leg, lucy maclean is worth every risky decision that might come with it.

so, as she moves against you, as high-pitched moans start spilling from her throat, you reach for the zipper of the blue suit. it parts smoothly, the soft scraping of the interlocking metal echoing in the otherwise quiet space.

you look up at lucy, only vaguely aware of the white bralette that comes into view now that you’re unzipping her clothes.

you don’t want to make her uncomfortable by blatantly staring but the skin that’s revealed to you makes it impossibly hard. so, instead, you choose another way to show off your appreciation: without tearing your eyes from hers, you lean in and press your mouth to the flesh between her collarbones, then move lower.

lucy gasps, her lips parted and her brows slightly furrowed. it’s her who peels the sleeves of her jumpsuit from her arms, who lets it pool by her hips and reaches for you all over again. who urges you closer by the back of your head with one hand, while the other grabs the hem of her underwear.

“wow,” you gasp, dumbfounded when lucy -your lucy- tugs the bra upwards enough to free her bare chest from the restrictive fabric. she smiles, shyly, and tilts her head.

her nails sink into your shoulder the second your mouth closes around her nipple; she’s responsive there, more than you ever were, more than you thought she’d be. so responsive that lucy starts moving her hips more frantic when you roll her other nipple between your index and thumb.

and still…”more,” she whines softly, greedily, dragging her soaked center across your flexed muscle. “i want you to touch me,” she breathes. “please”

you trail slow, open mouthed kisses down her torso, your hands gliding over the curve of her back. you press lower, as far as you can reach, until your neck twists at an almost painful angle and lucy's hand finds the back of your head, cradling it gently.

that’s when you shift, moving her body so she’s leaning against the wall and you’re positioned between her spread legs.

lucy watches you through curious eyes, studying your every move as you get to kiss down her body more comfortably. you hold the eye contact, despite the need to stare at her chest (her nipples still hard and wet with your spit) until you have to pull the zipper lower and peel the fabric from her legs.

you slide it off and tuck it beneath her, allowing lucy to rest on it rather than the dirty floor, leaving her in a pair of panties matching the white bralette.

lucy’s body shudders as you kiss back up the expanse of her legs, the muscles in her thighs tensing. obviously, you don’t stop there: you crawl up further and further until you’re almost at the apex, reaching for the waistline of the underwear and-

her legs clamp together suddenly, forcing you back.

“what-“ lucy stammers, unsure. “what are you doing?”

“i was gonna-“ you lick your lips, dropping your hands to her hips. of course lucy has no idea what you were going to do. “can i-“ you consider your words, unsure how to explain it so she’ll understand. “-put my mouth there?”

lucy’s eyes widen. “you want to-”

“please,” you whisper. “please, can i eat you out?”

lucy -her own want betraying her- whines, her hips jerking towards your mouth. from here, between her legs, you can see the wet patch of arousal that has soaked through her underwear.

“okay,” she pants, nodding frantically. “okay, yes. please!”

immediately, you reach out, hook your fingers underneath them and pull the panties down her thighs. you take your time making sure to securely place them in one of the suit’s pockets so they won’t get dirty, before finally turning your gaze back to lucy, who’s waiting in anticipation.

she lets you take in the sight with a nervous look on her face, biting the side of her index.

your fingertips absentmindedly trace the skin, watching the way lucy’s body parts for you. she is beautiful, endlessly beautiful, glistening with arousal, and framed by coarse hair.

“i’m sorry, i should’ve-“ she begins, but you immediately hush her.

“you’re beautiful,”

lucy inhales breathlessly, her fingers forming a v-shape and spreading herself open for you to see.

“fuck-“ you mutter under your breath. lucy’s clit is throbbing.

slowly, you make your way up her thigh. in response, lucy buries her fingers in your hair, sighs softly as she invites you in, and spreads her legs wider.

you nudge her skin with your nose, nipping on the tender flesh.

the first time you put your mouth on lucy, her legs close around your head. her jaw goes slack and her brows furrow in concentration, adjusting to the new sensation.

you start with featherlight kisses to her swollen clit, each making her buck her hips against your face.

“o-oh!” lucy stammers from above, looking almost confused, surprised by how good your lips feel as they brush over her. “that feels so good,” she breathes finally, her body rolling down against your tongue.

“yeah?” you murmur, soothingly wrapping your arms around her thighs to hold her open as you circle her clit with the tip of your tongue.

“mhm,” lucy nods, but it comes out more like a whine at a particular good press of your lips. just as lucy buries her fingers in your hair, seemingly wanting to push you closer, you push her apart and lick a broad stroke right through her, getting your first actual taste.

instinctively, your eyes roll back, the lewd moan that rips from your throat drowned out by her skin.

“g-god-“ she stutters. “that’s- ah- good.”

unbeknownst to lucy, the sweet praise goes straight to your center. if you had a pillow, or anything useful around, you’d shove it between your legs and grind on it while you eat her out.

but, regardless of your own lack of relief, her words encourage you to lick deeper, to move faster inside of her and show her all that she’s been missing out on. you alternate between fucking your tongue into her, and wrapping your lips around her clit to suck on it, all while lucy pulls your closer, guiding your tongue to where she needs it the most.

you gladly let her, ignoring the occasional sting of your scalp at sharper tugs.

for a while, you eat lucy out like that, getting lost in each of her desperate attempts to stifle her sighs and her taste in your mouth. her words have morphed into muffled babbles above you, incoherent sounds of pleasure.

it doesn’t take long at all until she is getting closer: her head has lulled back against her bag, her moans come out more ragged and breathless, and the leg she has thrown over your shoulder trembles with tension as she pushes her heel down on your spine to urge you closer.

instead of teasing lucy, you go right for it.

your lips close around her clit again, just as two of your fingers sink into her. squirming above you, lucy mindlessly grinds her hips to your face, aching for that release. she chants little ‘ah, ah, ah’ sounds, her cunt tightening around your fingers so much it’s hard for you to thrust them in and out of her.

both your nose and your chin are covered in lucy’s wetness, glistening in the dimly lit space as her hands curl to fists in your hair.

“i feel…” she begins, trailing off. you’re not sure she knows what she’s feeling. or maybe she’s in disbelief because you only have your hands and mouth to use on her and still it’s enough.

either way, you encourage her, putting your thumb in place of your lips, rubbing her clit with the wet pad of your finger to keep her on the edge. “that’s it,” you mumble.

lucy chokes on her noise of approval and just nods her head instead. “yes,” she whispers, over and over, like a prayer. “yes, yes, yes! i’m gonna-“

that’s all of a warning you get before her whole body tenses. her lips are parted in a silent scream, her hips jerk forward once more before it all comes crashing down on lucy. the sound she makes is somewhat between a cry and a moan of your name and she arches her back from the ground when she cums.

you manage to tear your gaze away from her convulsing cunt to catch a glimpse of her, so lost in the haze of her pleasure: lucy’s eyes are shut tightly, her head thrown back so much that the entire expanse of her neck is on display for you.

her walls tighten around your fingers, trying to suck you in deeper, to keep you in place while she trembles with the force of the orgasm she’s riding out on you.

only when her body has stopped shaking, you lean back, not wanting to push her too far. she’s already given you more than enough.

“phew,” lucy says once she’s caught her breath. it’s so ridiculously lucy you have to bite back a laugh. “is it- is it always like this?” she asks by the time you’ve crawled back up her body and slumped down by her side.

you reach for her, not even thinking about it properly until you’re already cradling her face, your thumb grazing over her jaw soothingly. lucy doesn’t seem to mind.

“no,” you manage quietly, taking in her features in the dark. “no, it’s never been like this.”

luct turns her head to look at you, her expression open. she’s still flushed, her hair mussed, her lips kiss-swollen, and she’s smiling.

“i liked it,” she says, voice hushed. then, as if realizing how simple that sounds, she rushes to clarify: “not just because of- well, you know…but because it was you!”

you swallow hard, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. “yeah?”

lucy nods, shifting so she’s curled against your side, her fingers idly tracing patterns against your arm. “yeah.” a beat passes, then: “i think i wanna do that again. like…a lot.”

you laugh outright at that, tilting your head to press a kiss to her temple. “you really are something else, maclean.”

she hums, pleased, before shifting closer, tucking herself against you like she belongs there. you don’t realize how quiet it’s gotten until lucy is fast asleep in your arms.

[dollwhite]

Hiii I did this while listening to Harvey by Alex G

SUCCESS IS THE ONLY THING I UNDERSTAND

“Timmy come on it’s not good for you to stay up till 5:00 am every night” you say standing over him

“Mh just a few more minutes m almost done” Tim muttered his words coming out sluggish. It was sad really, a kid his age should never put off his own needs. No matter what their doing.

HEAD BACK HOME TO THE PLACE I GREW UP

“You said that 20 minutes ago, come on it’s time to go to sleep.” You uttered, running your fingers through his short black hair.

“It’s just one more thing I need to do..” he stated, trying his hardest not to just close his eyes shut. He was so close to finishing the case, if you just give him one more minute to finish….

GIVE MY MEDALS TO THE ONES THAT I LOVE

“Come, I’ll walk you back to your room” you say grabbing his hands off the bat computer, Dick had called you to get Tim to go to sleep. He’s been there for hours trying to finish that case, and he wouldn’t listen to anybody elso.

And Alfred is on his vacation day, while Bruce is at a late night gala. So they had no choice but to call you, Damian’s the one that suggested calling you in the first place.

I’LL CHASE HARVEY THROUGH THE DOOR ON THE WALL

As you both started walking up to the manor. Tim started to get more and more sleepy, all that lack of sleep was finally catching up to him.

“ Tim? Come on we’re almost there..” you say, his head resting on you shoulder.

HE SAYS NEVER CATCH ME, NEVER MISS ME AT ALL

Tim has never had a mom figure, he has a father figure and that’s Bruce. He has- had his own mother but they were never close, so when you came into his life things started getting better.

Before you he was never that happy to get his report cards, it was the same thing ever two months.

DROOL CAMES DOWN FROM THE CONNER OF HIS MOUTH

A+

A+

A+

A+

A+

A+

And the every once and awhile B+ in jym. But even that was rare, but when you came? Oh he loved showing you his report card. The way you acted like all A were a big thing?

I SAY I LOVE HARVEY YOU CUT IT OUT

The way you hung the paper up on your refrigerator? The way you patted the top of his head and told him your were poud of him? Like a mom would? Not a mother because a mom asked you what snacks you wanted from the store.

I LOVE WINNING BABY I WANT IT ALL

A mom tells you all the nightmares you have aren’t real.

I WANNA PROVE THAT I GOT THE BALLS

A mom does a bunch of things for their children…..

HARVEY KEEPS ON PLAYING WITH HIS FOOD

He doesn’t understand what big boys do…………

Also I’m think ima just change my theme when I get around internet, because right now I’m just on my mom’s hotspot and it’s not enough to load Pinterest 😭

Also this is rushed, no proofread cuz we die like Jason Todd

Also lest Friday I got in a argument 😅

Reader and Damian are going to have a very weird relationship cuz on one hand she low key wants to adopt him but on the other hand hes a little asshole lmao

[mishaapocalypsse]

I saw you were asking for requests so... Can you do a Dean/reader where the reader has a boyfriend, Dean has feelings but let's her be happy, then her bf uses her and leads her on. Dean comes to her aide makes her feel loved confesses his feelings fluffy and smutty?

|| ceilings and plaster ||

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Description: Dean knows you have a boyfriend, and yet finds himself wanting you more than ever. When he sees that your significant other is just using you and above all not being faithful, he takes it upon himself to take care of it.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and adult themes, language and sexual content. MINORS DNI.

You have been warned. Story continues underneath the line.

Play this song while you listen...and cry really hard...

ceilings, plaster

Your boyfriend, a man by the name of Thomas Devin Monroe, continued to hammer nails into the roof of your house as Dean, your best and closest friend helped him. You knew Dean Winchester to be a fairly hard working man, who definitely knew how to get the job done. So when your boyfriend Thomas needed help, you were so quick to call up Dean who knew a thing or two about construction and fixing things.

The only problem was--was that you could tell that Dean hated your boyfriend. Reasons that were unbeknownst to you entirely.

"Ah, fuck you man!" You heard Thomas holler as you raced outside to see what was the matter.

When you looked up you saw your boyfriend holding his thumb as Dean held the hammer and looked smug as ever.

"Hey...I told you not to put your hand there when I have the hammer and nails." Dean replied. Thomas grumbled a "fuck you" before climbing down the latter.

You calmly walked up to Thomas.

"Let me take a look at it-"

"No. You can tell your fucking asshole of a friend to leave. I already told you I didn't need help with the roof." He hissed brushing past you and into the house.

can't you just make it move faster

You looked up at Dean with your hands on your hips.

"Did you really have to go and do that?" You called up to him. Dean turned his head and craned his neck to look down at you.

"I warned him Y/N." He said. "I really did."

You shook your head with a smile, before you could hear your boyfriend calling you from inside the house.

"I think its best if you go Dean, we can pick this up more tomorrow." Dean sighed and nodded, packing up his toolbox and sliding down the ladder with finesse. He towered over you, with his usual look. His freckles were noticeably more prominent today, and besides smelling like his usual scent of blood, and smoked wood, he smelled much like whiskey and sandalwood. A scent that you favored a lot.

lovely to be sitting here with you

You were mid thought when Dean hugged you goodbye. It was initially quite amusing to see the large man having to bend down to catch you in a tight embrace.

"See you tomorrow Dean." You murmured.

"Mhm." He replied. "You too."

You're kinda cute but it's raining, harder.

A few weeks went by as Dean was on a hunt with his brother and hadn't been around lately, much like your boyfriend who was mostly not around now.

My shoes are now full of water

Thomas wasn't answering his phone when he was supposed to be picking you up from work. So instinctively you asked Dean for a ride. You were soaked head to toe while you shivered typing in Dean's number. The phone rang a couple times before he answered.

"Hey!" You beamed, your teeth chattering.

"Are you outside?" He asks outright. You answered with how you were just waiting on Thomas to come pick you up from work, and that it was just cold.

"Oh...do you need anything?" You were about to answer Dean when Thomas called.

"One second, Thomas is calling." So as you hung up the phone to answer.

"Hell-" You never got to finish your sentence when Thomas spoke.

"I think we should break up..." You froze, not really understanding at first.

"It's not working out, Y/N. I just can't be with someone like you..." He continued. "You should probably find someone else to come pick you up from work, because I am a little busy at the moment." Thomas said that last part as a half-moan and chuckle. Which was how you also came to the realization that he was currently cheating on you with someone else.

The rain poured on while you chose to hang up the phone on Thomas. Overwhelmed you sat down on the sidewalk, getting drenched to the bone. You cried hard into the wet sleeves of your coat. wiping rain water from your eyes, calling Dean back, the phone rang before going to voicemail.

You tried Sam's phone, answering on the first ring.

"What's up Y/N?" He asked, a little concerned by the tone of your voice.

"Is Dean there with you?" Sam hummed.

"No, actually, he said he was going somewhere, are you sure you're okay?" You lied and told Sam that you were okay before ending the call.

You sighed tossing your phone into your pocket and hiding your face into your hands while the rain continued to drench you. You needed a moment to take all of this in. The state of your relationship was in shambles, the weight of how overwhelmed you were hung heavy on your heart.

Before long, you heard the revving of an engine and the sound of the door shutting.

Lovely to be rained on with you

"Y/N..." You glanced up at the sound of your name. Dean's worried face came into view while you buried your face into his chest. Everything came onto you all at once.

But it's

So short and you're driving me home

Dean had gotten you comfortable in his car, driving you home. Your head leaned against the window looking out, as beads of rain water dripped from both the window outside and from you onto his seat and floor mats.

"I'm sorry, Dean... I'm ruining your seat." You cried.

He reached out to grip your thigh with his hand.

"I don't mind." He said softly. "I'm happy that you're safe." He added.

And I don't want to leave

But I have to go

You slip silently out of his car as he comes around to help you out. His warmth that emitted from him made you shiver again, looking up at him.

You kiss me in your car

His eyes eyed your lips before looking up into your eyes. You looked away before he leaned down, capturing your lips in his. You close your eyes, arms reaching to wrap around his neck as he pulled you up into his arms. You pull away...

"Dean..."

"Y/N..." He answered. "Was it too much?"

You shook your head and pulled him back in for more.

Bedsheets, no clothes

Touch me like nobody else does

Feeling Dean Winchester in between your legs was something you never even imagined, yet here he was, your best friend, making you unravel and cum onto his relentless, empowering thrusts. He had one hand on your headboard, gripping it like a vice, the other hand caging you in as he fucked you. Your nails dug into his scarred back while he hissed.

He then moved to kiss you once more, then to kissing your forehead. His hands intertwined with yours as you felt his cock twitch inside you. Dean looked spent as he tiredly thrusted more and more into you, moaning "I love you's" to you. Something you hadn't heard much lately.

"Dean..." You cried out again, reaching your climax. "Dean!" As you came, crashing down, feeling your arousal dripping lewdly. Dean was next to reach his own. You felt him give another thrust before releasing into you. Holding you tightly against him, he stared into your eyes as he did so, giving another soft kiss, another one after that, then another "I love you."

You felt hot tears come flooding before the two of you laughed as he hugged you tightly to him.

Lovely to just lay here with you...

"I've waited so long for you, Y/N...." You heard his mutter, his fingertips brushing your bare hip. Turning to nuzzle his neck with your nose, you pressed a kiss to his throat.

"Me too..."

[skribbledarker]

Back on my bs with another Zosan brainworm…. post Skypiea feels

—

Sanji, after having his “I needed a light” moment and getting shocked head-on by Enel, gains big lichtenberg scars that never fade. They’re darker than his usual skin tone, spiraling down the back of his neck, the entire expanse of his back, then curling around his shoulders and hips.

he hates them. Sanji thinks they make him look diseased, or like Frankenstein, sort of.. He doesn’t think scars are bad or ugly, no. It’s just the way they look on him.

He goes to so many lengths to hide them from the rest of the crew; he takes showers after everyone else is asleep, and his short-sleeved shirts get pushed to the back of the closet.

Chopper’s the only one who’s seen them. well, until Zoro. Somewhere in between when they didn’t like each other and when they suddenly did, the swordsman catches Sanji late at night in the bathroom, shirtless and twisting around himself to look at his back in the mirror.

Somehow, they end up on the floor, Sanji sitting cross-legged on the tile, hunched over with red tipped ears as Zoro sits behind him, taking his time tracing the patterns over Sanj’s skin.

“Do they hurt?” Zoro asks, grazing a calloused thumb over the back of Sanji’s neck.

“Sometimes. they sting when it gets cold.”

Zoro doesn’t say anything for a long time. Sanji feels like a bug under a microscope, just sitting there, being inspected like this. He finds himself zoning out— he doesn’t want to be here right now. This is embarassing.

“I like them.”

“Huh?”

And then Zoro’s hands are smoothing over Sanji’s shoulders, warm and careful like he’s handling a blade. “What, you don’t? It looks badass.”

no, they really don’t. “No. It looks…stupid.” Ugly, is what Sanji wants to say, but he doesn’t. The word suddenly seems a little too crass for whatever’s going on right now.

“Do mine, then?” Zoro counters, and that’s different. Zoro wears his like a collection, each mark a record of battles he’s won and lost and a testament to the shit he’s survived. Sanji hasn’t ever been blemished like that, barring the faint lines on the bridge of his nose still barely visible after eleven years. The scars just look out of place on him. Like they aren’t supposed to be there.

“No, no.” Sanji shakes his head. “Yours are— are badass.”

Zoro pauses again. “They look like vines.”

“Oh, so i’m sprouting greenery like you, now?”

That gets an exasperated huff out of Zoro, and Sanji can feel breath fanning over the back of his neck. “Stop, ‘m serious.”

It’s frightening, kind of, being laid bare under the watchful eye of someone else like this. Sanji can’t even see Zoro (well, besides his hands), but it’s almost like he can— the weight of his gaze falls heavy on Sanji’s back.

“Of course you are.”

A chill slides up Sanji’s spine when Zoro’s hands slide down to his waist, thumbing at the spots where the scars encroach onto his stomach. “ ‘s Pretty.”

Sanji’s throat suddenly feels dry, because the admission of pretty feels less like a descriptor of the lightning bolts spiraling down his back and more about him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Never thought I’d hear you call something ‘pretty,’ you brute.”

“Maybe you needed to.”

Maybe you needed to. Fuck, Maybe Sanji did.

—

gughhhh this was supposed to be a little drabble but got out of hand so fucking quickly??1!1?1?

anyways i want to shoot both of them dead lololololol

i also love projecting my self-image issues onto Sanji…. my blorbo AHHH

[oh-phoenixx]

"Setback" - Jegulus microfic @into-the-jeggyverse - 625 words

-

He was fine. He was going to be fine. He was breathing normally and the party wasn’t too loud and his clothes weren’t suffocating him.

Forcing himself to think these things did not, unfortunately, manipulate Regulus to actually believe any of it. Standing in the kitchen of his and James’s flat with about thirty other people in the house was not fine, he was not breathing normally, and his collar was strangling him.

The food was supposed to be ready by now. It was James’s birthday party and Regulus had promised that he didn’t need help with setting anything up. But as he had been busy decorating, he had started cooking too late, and now the food wasn’t ready on time. Regulus was not fine. All he wanted was to disappear into his and James’s bedroom and avoid everyone for the rest of the night, but he didn’t want to ruin James’s birthday more than he already had.

“Reggie? You alright?” Sirius asked cautiously from behind him.

Turning around quickly to snap at his brother for even insinuating that he wasn’t okay, Regulus found himself unable to make any noise come out of his mouth at all. Instead, he looked at him, pleading with Sirius. Pleading for what, Regulus didn’t know. He just needed to be out of here.

“Breathe, Reg. It’s okay. What’s happened?” Sirius approached him, but didn’t reach out to touch him.

“I’ve ruined everything,” Regulus gasped out, momentarily forgetting how to breathe, “The food isn’t ready, and I’m having a panic attack in the kitchen instead of being with James on his birthday, and the decorations look awful, and none of this would have happened if I had just let James help.”

Sirius gave Regulus a moment to catch his breath before pulling his younger brother into a hug. He knew that nothing he said would actually comfort Regulus, so he wrapped his arms around him tightly, as the pressure usually grounded Regulus.

“He’s going to hate me,” Regulus mumbled into Sirius’s shoulder.

“I think you could forget his birthday entirely and he would forgive you as long as you smiled at him,” Sirius scoffed.

While this didn’t do much to make Regulus feel better, it distracted him momentarily from the guilt that was gnawing at him. His breathing slowly evened out and his grip on Sirius’s t-shirt loosened considerably.

“Regulus?” James’s voice called from the entrance to the kitchen.

Regulus let go of Sirius with a shaky breath and looked to his boyfriend, biting his lip nervously. Sirius gave him a reassuring look before walking out to give them some privacy. James looked between them in confusion, a small frown forming on his handsome face.

“I’m sorry,” Regulus mumbled. “I- I should have asked for your help. The food isn’t ready and- and I know the decorations aren’t great, and-”

Before Regulus could continue, James had his arms wrapped around the younger boy’s waist, resting their foreheads against one another. He rubbed comforting circles on Regulus’s hips and kissed him softly.

“It doesn’t matter, love. First of all, the flat looks great, I love the decorations,” James assured him. “And second of all, the food doesn’t have to be ready by exactly 8pm. It’s just a setback, it’s okay. It really doesn’t matter, Reg.”

Regulus melted into James’s arms, wrapping his own around his boyfriend’s neck and nuzzling his face into James’s like a cat. James pressed a gentle kiss to Regulus’s hair, still rubbing his back in circular motions.

“I didn’t ruin your birthday?” Regulus checked.

“Not even close, love.”

Regulus nodded and buried his face in his boyfriend’s neck. He was fine. His breathing was even and he no longer felt smothered in his clothes. Everything was fine.

[myonexox]

UNPLANNED SESSIONS

pairing : boyfriend!jay x female!reader

synopsis : you're just trying to go to the gym after missing your morning session but your plans quickly change when your boyfriend, jay, comes home unexpectedly. he's exhausted and frustrated from work and instead of letting you leave, he begs you to stay with him. no matter how hard you try to resist, you can never say no to him. and just like that, another gym session is missed.

warnings : lots of kisses

word count : 1.7k

a/n : requested by @jaaayyneee (hope this turned out the way you imagined. sorry if it’s not exactly what you had in mind but i really tried my best. hope you enjoy the story!)

you pulled your hair up into a ponytail, securing it tightly before smoothing down a few stray strands. you looked at your reflection in the mirror, adjusting the elastic band one last time as you inspected your pastel pink gym set, a snug sports bra paired with matching shorts. satisfied, you grabbed your gym bag from the chair and slung it over your shoulder.

stepping out of the bedroom, you walked to the kitchen and headed next to the sink to fill up your water bottle. the soft hum of the water filling your bottle was the only sound breaking the quiet stillness of your apartment.

no, you didn’t live alone. your boyfriend usually filled the space with his presence. but at the moment, he wasn’t here. he was currently at work.

the apartment felt different when you were alone. it felt too quiet. you had lived here with him for almost a year now and you were so used to his presence that without him, the space felt far too big.

you stood next to the sink, adjusting your grip on the bottle as cool water cascaded into it.

you sighed. you’d missed your morning session and the guilt of skipping was gnawing at you. but it wasn’t just guilt, it was also the familiar itch, that restless energy in your limbs that needed an outlet. your body craved movement. you had always been dedicated to your fitness routine and missing a session left you feeling incomplete.

you glanced at the clock on the kitchen counter. 5:07 pm. the gym was still open for a few more hours and after missing your morning session, you were determined not to skip it altogether.

as your water bottle was almost full, your phone vibrated in your bag. pulling it out, you saw a message from your friend, hana.

hana: “hey! just finished my workout. where are you?”

you typed back quickly. “heading there now. missed my morning session”

hana: “ahhh okay! be safe. it’s kinda late”

suddenly, you heard the door open and close. you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. it was your boyfriend, jay. he had come home.

but there was no greeting, no familiar call of your name. just the quiet rustling of his jacket being slipped off and the soft thud of his bag hitting the floor.

you slipped your phone back into your bag and turned your head slightly, catching a glimpse of him. his shoulders were slumped, his usually warm eyes clouded with fatigue.

he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling softly as he walked towards you. his silence spoke volumes. maybe something had happened at work? something that drained the energy from him completely. because you could see that, clearly. he wasn't usually like this. even when he was tired after coming home from work, he would still greet you with his usual sweet smile. but not today.

as you stood by the sink, focused on filling up your water bottle completely, you felt him slowly approach from behind.

before you could turn around, you felt his lips graze against your bare shoulder. soft at first, barely more than a whisper of a touch. then firmer. the heat of his breath sent a shiver through you as he trailed slow kisses up the curve of your neck, his movements unhurried, savoring the contact. his lips were slightly parted, pressing against your skin with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. his scent, mixed with the faintest trace of cologne was intoxicating.

your fingers tightened around the bottle, trying to focus, trying to keep your thoughts clear but he wasn’t making it easy. his lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear, his breath hot as he exhaled slowly against your skin. "what are you doing?" you murmured, your voice coming out softer than you intended, betraying the effect he had on you.

"hey, is everything okay?" you asked again, placing the water bottle, now full, on the counter.

he didn't answer immediately. instead, his hands found your waist, fingers splaying against the fabric of your shorts before pressing you back against him. his warmth enveloped you, his grip firm yet tender. he rested his chin lightly against your shoulder, exhaling slowly as if trying to let go of whatever tension had settled in his body throughout the day.

"i had a bad day... a really bad day" he finally murmured against your skin, his voice low, husky. "just need you so bad right now baby"

his lips resumed their path, lingering at the juncture where your shoulder met your neck, his teeth grazing lightly before he soothed the spot with another kiss. he moved slowly, his lips pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder, traveling further with each touch. his hands moved, slow and teasing, sliding under the hem of your top just enough for his fingers to brush against your skin. his touch was light as if testing the waters before dipping further.

you swallowed, trying to stay grounded but the way he touched you, so gentle, so wanting, made your heart race. "jay…" you started but the moment his fingers traced small circles on your waist, your words faltered. he was distracting, his presence intoxicating and you could feel the tension in his body, the need for comfort, the silent plea for something more.

"shhh" he whispered, nipping at your earlobe before pressing another kiss just below it. "just let me…" his hands tightened slightly, holding you firmly against him as he pressed closer.

you wiped your slightly damp hands against your shorts and quickly turned around. you tried to fight whatever you were feeling, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. you had to. if you gave in now, you wouldn’t be able to go to the gym and you had already missed your morning session.

“i have to go to the gym” you told him, voice firm despite the heat still lingering in your body from his touch.

he didn’t say anything at first. instead, he tilted his head slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach twist. then, in the softest, most irresistible voice, he murmured “baby, can’t you skip just this once? for me?” his gaze softened, his eyes wide and pleading, his lips barely parted as if he was pouting without meaning to.

it was unfair how easily he could weaken your resolve. that look, that voice, so sweet, so needy. he knew exactly how to use them against you. and for a moment, you hesitated. but then you shook your head, forcing yourself to look away.

“no, i can’t” you said, stepping back slightly. “i already skipped too many times. so this time, i really have to go”

a muscle in his jaw tensed. his expression darkened just a fraction and before you could react, he moved forward, closing the distance in an instant causing your bag to drop to the ground with a loud thud. his hands gripped your hips firmly, his body pressing against yours as he backed you into the kitchen counter. the hard edge dug into your lower back but it was nothing compared to the heat of him surrounding you.

“i’m asking nicely” he murmured, his voice lower, rougher. his lips hovered just inches from yours as his hands slowly trailed up your sides. “please… can you skip the gym?”

your heart pounded. his body caged you in, his warmth sinking into your skin and the way he looked at you, half pleading, half demanding made it impossible to think straight. he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“jay...” you started, voice barely above a whisper.

“please” he repeated, his voice raw with exhaustion and something deeper. “just stay. just for tonight”

you bit your lip, torn between reason and the undeniable pull he had on you. “but i promised myself i’d go” you whispered though your voice wavered under his touch.

he exhaled sharply, his frustration evident. his grip on your waist tightened. “you’re really going to make me beg, hm?” he muttered, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, his voice dripping with both frustration and desire.

you shivered involuntarily and all you could manage was a quiet “jay…”

“i hate when you leave when i need you” he admitted, his fingers digging into your hips just enough to make you gasp. his nose brushed against your cheek before he tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “i had a bad day, baby. you know that. and now you’re just going to walk away and leave me? alone?”

“i- i’m not walking away, i just—”

he didn’t let you finish. his lips crashed against yours, claiming them in a kiss that left no room for doubt about what he wanted. it wasn’t just about keeping you here, it was about needing you, about finding solace in you. his hands slid to the small of your back, pulling you even closer, pressing every inch of his body against yours.

your fingers instinctively reached up, threading through his hair, tugging slightly as he deepened the kiss.

when he finally pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his forehead resting against yours. “just this once” he whispered, his voice rough. “please, i beg you”

you hesitated, heart racing, mind screaming at you to hold your ground. but with the way he was looking at you, the way his hands refused to let you go, you knew this battle was already lost.

you sighed, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his touch and the intensity in his gaze. you could never resist him. never.

“fine” you murmured, the word barely escaping your lips. and just like that, another session at the gym was gone, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

a victorious smirk tugged at his lips before he closed the distance between you again. he pulled you into another kiss but this time, it was hotter, deeper, more desperate. his hands roamed over your waist, skimming along the curve of your back before pressing you even closer. you gasped softly against his lips, your hands gripping his arms to steady yourself as warmth spread through you.

his fingers traced over your gym suit, grazing over every dip and contour of your body as if memorizing the way you felt beneath his touch. he exhaled shakily against your lips. “you have no idea how hard it is to resist you when you look like this”

your breath hitched as his lips trailed along your jaw down to the curve of your neck. you shivered when he nipped at your skin lightly. he pulled away slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“we should do something fun instead” he murmured, his fingers skimming along your arms before settling on your waist again.

you tilted your head, feigning innocence even though you already knew exactly what he meant. “what do you mean?”

his smirk deepened. “you know what i mean”

[didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback]

Can you please give us your full match breakdown if you have the time? I love reading your thoughts and it helps me learn so much about the game.

hi anon - thanks! okay, here are my general thoughts below the cut:

tl;dr it's not a castrophic loss but if you look at the trend of league matches, we saw it coming. february is the one month we have to get our shit together before the champions knockout matches start! so there's more to learn from a loss than a win at this stage! this is do or die time for pere 🙏

so we have to note that it's the first home loss ever at estadi johan cruyff and it was against levante, a team that i've discussed a lot on my blog as being an example of a good team that has fallen from grace. it's women's team budget was cut and the team sold off all its top players, and levante is now facing potential relegation in the league.

this is a levante who fired its previous coach (who is facing serious allegations against him) and so you could say that levante has that "new coach bounce" feeling about them. they had a gameplan (low block and attack on counter) and they executed it well.

with that background, it was obvious that pere would be playing the "b" team, meaning mostly squad players. now when we talk about rotation in the team and that includes using bench players for matches against these lower ranked teams. they need to get minutes and game time and these are the "safer" matches to play. because at the end of the day, thankfully there's really no major consequence to the loss here but we know more about what areas the squad need to work on.

having said that, pere got his tactics wrong with this line-up. it felt like they hadn't played together and weren't on the same page with each other. now even when you play your "b" team, they should at least be able to anticipate each's others runs and be unified in the plan to break down a low block. that didn't happen here tonight and that's on pere with a lack of training against this type of defense from the opposition.

as evidence of that, there were too many moments when passes were mishit because of lack of anticipation of player runs or a player was on a run and then had to double back because the player with the ball was a step behind and they had to catch up. the reason we practise rondos and these small sided drills it to minimise this. but i saw way too much sloppiness today.

we need to be more disciplined. you saw errant passes or shots on goals when our players were getting frustrated, either due to a lack of calls by the referee or after time wasting by levante. you can't let opposition tactics get under your skin like that.

can pere please rest aitana for once? you can't start aitana and play her for 90+ minutes match after match and expect her to be effective as a leader for this "b" team. the same goes to caro who has just come back from injury. having said that, they had some great crosses, but we couldn't finish them...

by that same token, you can't throw on alexia and ewa and expect them to clean up your mess if the tactics are messed up from the start.

this is the most extreme example of what we have been battling with all season. there were so many matches with a weak first half and where we didn't score until the second half or get our flow going until the second half. it was too little, too late tonight.

we need to be more clinical on finishing. salma missed chances, aitana missed chances, esmee missed chances, kika missed chances, alexia missed chances. caro missed chances. it wasn't flowing for anyone. this has likewise been an issue since the beginning of the season. 47 shots and only 1 goal to show for it is unacceptable!

and to drill down on scoring, we need to be better on set pieces like corners and free kicks. we had 18 corners, 18! you can't have that many opportunities and not capitalise on them!

i can't put this loss on ellie but this is why we need more reps for her because we need to build up her confidence so that she's in total command of the defense and we don't have incidents like the second goal. by that token, not a great defensive performance. we can't ball watch and we need a better understanding as a unit. engen was okay in the first half and had a few mistakes in the second. but patri is injured and it doesn't help engen to say she's washed and be overly critical. just like everyone else, there are areas where she can improve too!

anyway, like cata says, with this team to the death, so let's watch the game tape back and make damn hell sure that we are learning from this! 🙏

[soccer-love]

Snowed in

Sarah Zadrazil x reader

The invitation had been casual, almost to casual.

"Come with me to Austria for the break." Sarah had said, leaning against the locker with that easy smile, she always had. "My parents are away and asked me if I could come by to see if everything is okay. And I need someone to keep my company."

Y/N had agreed before really thinking it through. And now, standing in Sarahs childhood home - surround by the warmth of her memories, a smell of pine and fresh bread filling the air - was both, heaven and hell.

Not because of the Snowstorm brewing outside.

But because of her feelings for Sarah.

Day one

The snow had been falling since the early morning, turning the small village into a winter wonderland.

They had gone to get some groceries for the next days, knowing that it could get hard to get out of the house.

Y/N stood by the window, watching the delicate flakes swirl in the dim light.

"Pretty huh?"

Y/N jumped slightly at the sound of Sarahs voice, turning to find her standing close.

She had taken a shower and the smell of her body wash was filling the air.

"You okay?" Sarah softly asked.

"Yeah, just...taking it all in."

Sarah hummed in understanding, stepping even closer, there hands brushing.

"It's nice to have you here, the house feels...warmer."

Y/N couldnt help but glance at her lips, just for a second, but Sarah noticed. She always noticed.

How could she not?

There had been moments like this for months. Moments where they would hug for longer than they should, where she would catch Y/N staring at her from across the moment and where she would find herself looking at Y/N lips.

Maybe she would have made a move, maybe she would have admitted her feelings for Y/N, but there was just one problem.

Y/N had came from Hoffenheim at the start of the season, she was one of the best players on the team, at only 19 years old, making it a twelve year age different.

For a moment, it felt like something would happen - like the inches between them would disappear - but then Sarah stepped back, clearing her throat.

"Are you hungry?"

Y/N let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"I'm starving."

Day two

The snow had been falling all through the night, making it impossible to go anywhere by car.

As Y/N got up in the morning, Sarah was sitting in the living room, rummaging through an old box of photos, the table already set for breakfast.

"Good morning." Y/N said as she sat down on the couch, two cups of coffee in her hands.

Sarah hummed in response and took the cub from Y/N.

Every now and then she would pull out a photo, showing it to Y/N, who tired to memories every one of them. Trying to remember everything of little Sarah.

In the afternoon, when it had stopped snowing for a while they went outside, taking a walk.

The snow was deeper than expected, crunching under their boots as Y/N followed Sarah, leading her down a small path.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Y/N asked, she grew up in northern Germany and wasn't used to this much snow.

Sarah glanced over her shoulder, flashing that trademark mischievous grin. "What, afraid of a little snow?"

Y/N scoffed "I'm afraid of freezing to death actually."

Sarah laughed, the sound echoing through the silent landscape. "Come on, we’re almost at the lake. It’s worth it, I promise."

Y/N sighed but followed, watching the way Sarah moved effortlessly through the snow, her long legs barely struggling while Y/N felt like she was wading through quicksand. "Easy for you to say," she muttered, stumbling slightly.

Sarah glanced back at her just in time to see Y/N’s boot catch on an unseen patch of ice beneath the snow. "Y/N, watch ou—"

But it was too late.

Y/N’s feet slid out from under her, she let out a startled yelp, arms flailing as she went down. Sarah lunged forward instinctively, reaching out to catch her, but instead, she was pulled down along with Y/N.

With a muffled thud, they landed in a tangled heap in the snow, Y/N flat on their back and Sarah sprawled on top of her.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, their breaths coming out in soft, visible puffs against the cold air.

Y/N blinked up at Sarah, she was so, so close. Her face hovered just inches above Y/N's, her lips slightly parted, warm breath ghosting over Y/N’s chilled skin. Snowflakes clung to Sarah’s lashes, and her blue eyes flickered between Y/N’s lips and her gaze, something unreadable lingering in them.

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. "Uh... hi."

Sarah’s lips twitched into a small, amused smile. "Hi," she murmured, but didn’t move.

Neither of them did. The weight of Sarah on top of Y/N, the way their bodies pressed together through the layers of coats and scarves, sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

Y/N’s gaze dropped to Sarah’s lips -God, so close. She could just lean up a little, close the distance, and-

Sarah’s eyes darkened, and for a second, it seemed like she might do it first. Her hand, which had instinctively grabbed onto Y/N's jacket during the fall, tightened slightly.

"Are you okay?" she then asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I think I hurt my shoulder a little, but otherwise yes." she said, her eyes locked with Sarahs. "What about you?"

"Well you are a pretty good thing to land on top of, really good. But now let's get you out of the snow." Sarah said, carefully getting up again and then holding her hand out for Y/N to grab.

And as she pulled her up, they were so close again. Sarah let out a sight, her hard was beating so fast, she was scared it would jump out of her chest if Y/N came any closer.

"Let's go." she grabbed Y/N by her hand again, to prevent her from falling again.

The walked back to the house, where Sarah sat Y/N down by the fireplace with some hot chocolate, before going to get something from her drawer.

"Take off your shirt." she demanded as she came back, sitting down behind Y/N.

"Excuse me?" Y/N asked, an amused smile on her face.

"I want to take a look at your shoulder and put some creme on it" Sarah replied, nestling on the hem of Y/N's dark blue shirt.

"I—uh—it’s fine, I can do it myself." Y/N hesitated, her heart suddenly pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with the injury.

"I don’t remember asking," she said, softer now but still commanding. "Come on, I’ve seen you in the locker room a million times."

Y/N swallowed hard, heat creeping up her neck. "Yeah, but this isn’t exactly the locker room, is it?"

Sarah gave her a look. "Y/N."

With a resigned sigh, Y/N slowly pulled off her shirt, feeling the cool air hit her skin. She sat on the couch, tense, as Sarah knelt beside her, squeezing a generous amount of the cream onto her fingers.

Sarah’s hands were warm when they pressed against Y/N’s bare shoulder, the contrast against the cold cream sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine. Sarah's fingers moved with gentle precision, smoothing the cream over the tender skin with slow, deliberate strokes.

Y/N tried—really tried—not to think about how close Sarah was, how her breath ghosted over Y/N’s neck, how every touch made something stir deep in their chest.

"You know," Sarah said quietly, breaking the silence, "my mom used to do this for me after my games when I was a kid. Every bruise, every scrape... she'd sit me down and fix me up, no matter how much I protested."

Y/N smiled faintly, trying to focus on anything other than the way Sarah’s fingertips traced delicate circles over her shoulder. "You? Protesting? I can't imagine that."

Sarah chuckled softly, her touch lingering a second too long. "I guess I’ve always been stubborn."

Y/N turned slightly, their faces close now—too close. The firelight flickered, casting warm shadows over Sarah’s features, and Y/N’s gaze drifted to her lips before she could stop herself.

"I like it," Y/N said quietly.

Sarah blinked, her fingers stilling against Y/N's skin. "What?"

Y/N swallowed hard, realizing what she had just admitted. "Your touch. I... I like it."

Sarah didn’t pull away. Instead, her eyes darkened, her fingers grazing Y/N’s collarbone lightly, teasingly. "Yeah?" she murmured, her voice husky.

Y/N nodded, feeling her breath hitch. "Yeah."

For a moment, it felt inevitable. Sarah leaned in, their noses brushing, her lips hovering just above Y/N’s. Y/N felt the tension coil in their stomach, their eyes fluttering shut, waiting—

But then Sarah exhaled sharply and pulled back, grabbing the box of creme and getting up.

"I will make us some food." she informed Y/N, leaving her behind.

Y/N let out a frustrated laugh, watching as Sarah walked away, the ghost of her touch still burning on her skin.

Day three

The snow hadn't stopped and Sarah insisted on teaching Y/N how do bake her moms famous Appel strudel, to pass some time, but of curse without sharing her familys secret recipe.

Flour dusted the countertops—and Y/N’s face—while Sarah sat on the counter next to her, correcting her terrible dough-rolling skills.

"You're terrible at this." Sarah teased, before jumping of the counter and grabbing a hand full of flower.

"Here let me show you." She stepped behind Y/N, placing her hands on top of hers.

Y/N froze as Sarah’s breath tickled the back of her neck, her body pressing close. "You have to knead it like this," Sarah murmured, guiding Y/N's hands with slow, deliberate movements.

Sarah felt her heart beat faster, as Y/N turned around, their faces suddenly only inches apart.

Sarah noticed Y/N, looking at her lips again and for a second she thought something would happen but Y/N pulled back, grabbing a handful of flower and tossing it playfully at Sarahs face.

"How old are you? 5?" Sarah asked, trying to wipe to flower off but before she cold do so Y/N grabbed her hand.

She reached out, using a finger to draw a heart in the flower on Sarahs cheek.

"Some people say I'll be turning 20 this year." Y/N answered, turning around again to put the strudel into the oven.

"So basically a child."

"You take that back." Y/N grabbed another hand full of flower, ready to throw it at Sarah.

"Don't you dare throw that at me!"

"So what if I do?" Y/N smiled mischievously, raising her hand.

"I will throw back."

Y/N pretended to think about it for a second, using her chance to throw the flower at Sarah and running out of the kitchen.

"HEY!" Sarah screamed, storming after her, she chased her to the living room and then finally managed to grab her.

Y/N suddenly stopped, forcing Sarah to run into her, and nocking both of them over, only this time, Y/N landed on top.

"We have to stop doing this." Y/N whispered, hovering above the older women.

"Doing what?"

"Landing on top of each other. Could be weird if it happened during practice."

Sarah smiled, her eyes flickering over Y/N face, her skin looked so soft, it was hard for her not to just touch it.

Maybe she would have done it, but the sound of the phone ringing broke the moment.

"I need to get that one." Sarah mumbled, quickly getting out form under Y/N and hurried to get the phone.

Day four

The power had gone out during the night, leaving the house bathed in an eerie stillness.

Y/N sat on the floor, leaning against the couch with a thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Sarah was next to her, sitting cross-legged, poking idly at the fire with a metal poker. The flames crackled and spat, filling the quiet space between them.

"You ever think about how weird life is?" Sarah mused suddenly, her voice low and thoughtful.

Y/N glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Weird how?"

Sarah stared into the fire, the glow catching the sharp angles of her face. "Like... how we end up where we are. How we meet the people we meet. If it’s all just random... or if there’s some kind of plan to it."

Y/N thought for a moment, shifting to get more comfortable. "I don’t know. I think about that sometimes too. Whether things happen for a reason, or if we're just... floating through life, hoping for the best."

Sarah chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Floating, huh?"

"Yeah," Y/N said, smiling faintly. "Like...you know when I was younger, I thought I knew what I wanted to do in live. Becoming a teacher, working with kids you know. But then I got better at soccer and I was playing for Hoffenheim and basically the next day I got a call from Alex, asking if I wanted to play for Bayern Munich. It showed me that sometimes you don't get want you want, but what you need."

Sarah nodded slowly, her gaze distant. "You're right."

Y/N glanced at her, sensing something deeper beneath her words. "Did you have a plan?"

Sarah exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "Not really. I mean, I knew I wanted to play. But there were times I wondered if I was good enough, if I was making the right choices." She paused, her fingers absently tracing patterns on her knee. "And sometimes I think... what if I hadn’t made it? Who would I be without football?"

Y/N felt a pang in her chest at the vulnerability in Sarah’s voice. "I think you'd still be... you. Football or not."

Sarah gave her a small, grateful smile, but her eyes still held a shadow. "It’s hard to imagine, though, isn’t it? Taking it all away. Who are we, really, without the one thing we've built our whole lives around?"

Y/N swallowed, feeling the weight of that question. "I guess... we’re just people, trying to figure it out like everyone else."

Sarah let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "That’s kind of terrifying."

"Yeah," Y/N agreed, bumping Sarah’s knee lightly with hers. "But maybe it’s also kind of... freeing?"

Sarah looked at her, a flicker of something thoughtful in her expression. "Freeing how?"

Y/N shrugged. "Like... maybe we’re more than just what we do. Maybe we get to decide who we are, over and over again. Maybe some of us are still searching for what they want in live, for who they want to be."

Sarah stared at her for a long moment, something unreadable in her gaze. "You ever feel like you're still searching?"

Y/N sighed, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. "Every day." she looked down, avoiding Sarahs gaze.

"It's not that I'm unhappy about my life, about playing football, but sometimes I'm asking myself if this is already everything."

"I think you need to appreciate that little moments more, remember how happy you were when Giuli invited you to hang out with them for the first time? I could see it in your eyes, that it made you feel seen."

"So you were watching me?" Y/N asked, a smile forming on her lips.

"That was not what I was trying to say."

"I know. But I get what you mean and you are right with that." Y/N admitted, looking up at Sarah.

For a while, they just sat there, the fire crackling, the wind howling outside, and the space between them charged with something unspoken.

Y/N turned her head slightly, watching Sarah in the soft firelight—the way the light danced across her features, the quiet vulnerability in her eyes. It was so rare to see her like this, stripped of her usual confidence, just... real.

"I like this," Y/N said softly.

Sarah blinked, turning to look at her. "What?"

Y/N hesitated, her heart hammering in her chest. "Talking like this. With you."

Sarah’s lips curled into the softest of smiles. "Yeah. Me too."

"...I always do." Sarah admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. There was something about the way Sarah said it—soft, sincere, like a confession she hadn't meant to make. The fire crackled beside them, but the warmth Y/N felt had nothing to do with the flames.

Sarah seemed to realize what she had said and cleared her throat, quickly looking away. "I mean, you're new to the team. I like to make sure you're okay."

"Right," Y/N said, trying to ignore the way her pulse had jumped. "That makes sense."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Y/N wanted to say something—wanted to ask why Sarah always seemed to pull away just when it felt like something was about to happen. But instead, she just nodded and looked back at the fire.

Sarah did the same, but Y/N could still feel her watching.

----

By nightfall, the storm had gotten worse and due to the lack of power there was no source of heat except the fire.

"This is ridiculous." Sarah muttered, she had stoped in the doorway on her way to go to bed, a blanked tightly wrapped around her shoulders. "We’re gonna freeze, to death in our rooms."

Y/N, curled up under a mountain of blankets on the couch, shivered. "Tell me about it."

"Alright, give me a moment." Sarah said, walking away.

Just a few minutes later she came back, carrying the big blanked from her bed and a few pillows.

"Move!" she demanded, dropping the pile off next to Y/N.

"What are you doing?"

"It'll be warmer if we share a bed and here we also have the fire." she explained, laying the pillows down on one end of the couch and spreading the blanked. "Unless you’d rather turn into an icicle out here."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. Sharing a bed with Sarah? After everything that had happened these past few days?

But she was freezing. And Sarah was right—it was just practical. Nothing more.

"Fine," Y/N mumbled, trying to sound unaffected.

But when they were finally lying next to each other, under layers of blankets, it was impossible to ignore the way their bodies naturally gravitated closer. The house was quiet except for the howling wind outside and the cracking of the fire.

"Better?" Sarah murmured, her voice close in the dark.

Y/N swallowed hard. "Yeah. Better."

Sarah shifted, and Y/N felt the slightest brush of her fingers against her arm. Maybe it was accidental. Maybe it wasn’t.

Neither of them moved away.

The minutes passed, but for Y/N it was impossible to fall asleep, not when her heart was beating that fast with Sarah being so close.

Sarah exhaled softly, and Y/N could hear the slight smile in her voice. "You're not sleeping either?"

Y/N let out a quiet chuckle. "No chance. Too much on my mind."

Sarah hummed, staring up at the wooden ceiling. "Like what?"

Y/N hesitated. Like you. Like the way you look at me. Like the way I feel when you’re this close.

"Just… everything," she said instead, her voice softer now. "The storm, the season, the team… life, I guess."

Sarah turned her head slightly, watching her. "You put a lot of pressure on yourself."

Y/N huffed a quiet laugh. "Like you don’t?"

Sarah didn’t argue. They both knew the truth.

A few moments of silence passed before Sarah let out a quiet sigh. "You ever think about what you really want? Not in football I mean, but in live."

Y/N turned her head to face Sarah now, their faces just inches apart. The low light softened Sarah’s features, but her green-brown eyes were piercing in the dim glow.

"You're asking about my dreams?" Y/N asked in a teasing tone.

"I guess yeah."

"Sometimes," Y/N admitted. "But I try not to get caught up in things I can’t have."

Sarah’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something—but then she hesitated. Instead, she reached up, tucking a strand of Y/N’s hair behind her ear. The gesture was so gentle, so deliberate, that it made Y/N’s breath hitch.

The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy, until Sarah spoke again—barely above a whisper.

"And what if… what if you could have it?"

Y/N’s heart pounded.

"I think I...I wish for someone to share all of this with, the good moments, the bad...just my life."

The warmth of Sarah’s fingers lingered against her skin.

She didn’t move away.

She couldn’t.

A sharp clatter from outisde broke the moment.

They both tensed, their heads snapping toward the doorway. It sounded like something had fallen—maybe the wind knocking something loose outside.

Sarah let out a breath, dragging a hand through her hair. Nature just had the worst timing ever.

"Get some sleep, Y/N," She murmured after a moment.

Y/N turned her head, watching her. "Yeah," she whispered.

But she knew she wouldn’t sleep.

Not with Sarah this close.

Not with the promise of something hanging between them, just out of reach.

Day five

Warmth. That was the first thing Y/N registered as she drifted toward consciousness. Not just from the thick blankets cocooning her, but from something -or rather, someone- pressed against her side.

The second thing she noticed was light, soft, golden light spilling across the cabin, warming her face. The storm was gone.

Slowly, she blinked her eyes open, and the sight nearly stole her breath away. The snow outside glowed beneath the morning sun, untouched and glistening. It poured through the small window, casting everything in a hazy, golden glow—including Sarah, who was still fast asleep beside her.

Y/N swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of their position. Sometime during the night, they had shifted closer, their bodies now tangled under the blankets. Sarah’s arm was draped over Y/N’s waist, her face nestled against her shoulder, breaths slow and even.

Y/N didn’t dare to move. Not yet.

Sarah’s hair was messy from sleep, a few strands falling across her forehead, catching the sunlight in a way that made her look almost ethereal. Her face was peaceful, her lips slightly parted, her body completely relaxed against Y/N’s.

Y/N exhaled slowly, willing her racing heart to settle. She should move. She should. But there was something about this moment—about the warmth, the golden light, the quiet—that made her want to stay just a little longer.

Then, Sarah stirred.

A small sigh left her lips as she shifted, her hold on Y/N tightening slightly before she stilled again. Y/N held her breath, her heart pounding.

And then—

“Mmh… comfy…” Sarah’s voice was low, thick with sleep.

Y/N swallowed. “Yeah?”

Sarah hummed, nuzzling closer. “Mhm… warm.”

Y/N could feel the heat in her own face now, but she couldn’t bring herself to move away.

The golden light danced across the room, the world outside perfectly still, as if waiting for them to wake up.

Sarah shifted again, finally cracking one eye open. She blinked lazily at Y/N before a slow, sleepy smile tugged at her lips.

“Morning,” she murmured.

Y/N’s breath hitched. “Morning.”

For a moment, they just lay there, golden light spilling over them, neither moving, neither speaking.

Then Sarah gave a contented sigh, stretching slightly before letting her head fall back onto the pillow, still close enough that Y/N could see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes.

“The storm’s gone,” Sarah mumbled, voice still husky with sleep.

Y/N nodded. “Yeah.”

Sarah glanced toward the window, taking in the sunlit snow, before turning back to Y/N. There was something unreadable in her gaze, something soft.

"If the weather stays like that I think the streets will be free of snow by tomorrow and then we can leave." Sarah explained, but there was no urgency in her voice. No rush to move. It was more like she didn't want to move at all.

"And what if I don't want to leave?"

Sarah's eyes flickered downward, just for a second.

Then she pulled back, just slightly—not hurriedly, not awkwardly, just… a shift. Like she knew they had lingered in this moment long enough. Like she had been aware of the closeness just as much as Y/N

Y/N let out a quiet breath she hadn’t realized she was holding

"I can leave you here, but beware that my parents are coming back on Sunday." Sarah answered before sitting up, rubbing a hand through her messy hair, squinting at the bright light filtering in through the window.

“Damn,” she murmured, staring out at the untouched snow. “It’s kinda beautiful.”

Y/N sat up slowly beside her, her shoulder brushing against Sarah’s. “Yeah.” But she wasn’t looking at the snow.

Sarah turned, catching Y/N’s gaze, and for just a second, something passed between them again—something quiet, something unspoken.

Then Sarah smirked, nudging Y/N playfully with her elbow. “Come on, kid. Time to see if our car is buried under a snowdrift.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at the nickname, but she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips as she threw back the blankets.

----

The cold hit them the moment they stepped outside, but it was nothing compared to last night’s storm. The sky was clear now, and the world looked almost untouched under a thick blanket of fresh snow. The sun hung low, casting everything in a golden glow, making the frozen landscape almost beautiful.

Sarah stopped in her tracks and groaned dramatically. "My poor car.”

Y/N laughed, following her gaze. The vehicle was barely visible, buried under a ridiculous amount of snow. Only the side mirrors and the faintest outline of the roof stuck out.

“You sure you parked a car here? Cause I’m only seeing a snow sculpture,” Y/N teased.

Sarah shot her a look. “Very funny. Come on, let’s get to work before I freeze to death.”

She grabbed a shovel leaning against the wall and tossed another to Y/N, who barely caught it. Then they got to work, Sarah attacking the thicker piles with determined movements while Y/N brushed the snow off the windows and roof.

For a while, they worked in comfortable silence, the only sounds being their breathing and the scrape of shovels. But it didn’t take long before Y/N noticed the playful glint in Sarah’s eyes.

She should have seen it coming.

Sarah suddenly flung a shovel full of snow right at her, hitting her square in the side.

“Hey!” Y/N yelped, stumbling back.

Sarah grinned, eyes full of mischief. “Oh, sorry, was that your leg? My bad.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, tightening her grip on her shovel. “You sure about that, Zadrazil?”

Before Sarah could react, Y/N scooped up a handful of snow with her gloved hands and launched it right at her chest.

Sarah let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh, that’s how it is?”

Y/N barely had time to smirk before Sarah lunged, grabbing a handful of snow and shoving it down the back of her jacket.

The shriek that left Y/N’s mouth was almost unholy. “Sarah! That’s cold!”

Sarah doubled over laughing, but Y/N wasn’t about to let that slide. She scooped up more snow and tackled Sarah, pushing her backward into a deep snowdrift. Sarah let out a surprised oof as she landed on her back, sinking halfway into the fluffy white powder.

Y/N stood over her, triumphant. “Karma.”

Sarah looked up at her, face flushed from the cold, a lazy grin on her lips. Then, before Y/N could react, Sarah grabbed her wrist and yanked—hard.

With a yelp, Y/N lost her balance and tumbled down beside her, landing with a soft puff in the snow. She turned her head and found Sarah already looking at her, still grinning. Their faces were close, breath visible in the cold air.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Then Sarah chuckled, breaking the moment. “Alright, now we should probably dig my car out before it freezes into the ground permanently.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and sat up, brushing the snow from her clothes. “Yeah, yeah. But just so you know—you totally started that.”

Sarah smirked. “And I totally won.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing as she stood up and reached out a hand to help Sarah up. Together, they finished the job, working side by side until the car was finally free from the snow.

By the time they stomped back into the house, shaking off the cold, something felt different. Lighter.

And just as Sarah pulled off her jacket, the room filled with a low hum.

They both froze.

Then, one by one, the lights flickered back on. The heater rumbled to life.

“No way,” Y/N breathed.

Sarah let out a triumphant laugh, throwing her arms up. “Yes! The universe loves us!”

Y/N smirked. “I think it just got tired of watching us suffer.”

Sarah grinned and nudged her toward the kitchen. “C’mon, now we celebrate. Hot coffee?”

Y/N smiled, warmth creeping into her chest. “Hot coffee sounds perfect.”

And as Sarah moved around the kitchen, Y/N couldn’t help but think -getting snowed in with her? Maybe not such a bad thing after all.

Day six

The cabin felt strangely empty now that their bags were packed. The fire had burned down to embers, and the golden morning sun streamed through the windows, making the wooden walls glow with warmth. Outside, the snow-covered trees stood still, the storm now a distant memory.

Y/N stood by the couch, fingers grazing the blanket they had shared. The past few days had felt like a dream - being snowed in with Sarah, the quiet moments by the fire, waking up tangled together. But now reality was creeping back in. They would leave soon, go back to Munich, back to their normal lives.

Sarah was standing near the door, her hands in the pockets of her jacket, watching her. There was something unspoken in her gaze, something Y/N could feel pressing against her chest like a weight.

“We should go,” Sarah said softly, but she didn’t move.

Y/N swallowed, taking a step forward. “Sarah…”

Sarah’s gaze dropped to Y/N’s lips. Just for a second.

That was all it took.

Y/N closed the distance between them, reached up, and kissed her.

For a heartbeat, Sarah froze.

Then she kissed back.

It was soft at first, hesitant, but then something shifted. Sarah’s hands found Y/N’s waist, pulling her closer. Y/N’s fingers tangled in the collar of Sarah’s jacket, holding on as if letting go would break something fragile.

It was desperate, breathless, too short.

Because suddenly, Sarah was pulling away.

She took a step back, shaking her head as if she needed to clear it. “Shit.” Her voice was hoarse. “We—” She exhaled sharply. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

Y/N blinked, still catching her breath. “Why not?”

Sarah raked a hand through her hair. “Because I’m—” She let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m so much older than you, Y/N.”

Y/N frowned. “So?”

Sarah let out a humorless chuckle. “So, it’s not that simple. You’re nineteen. I’m thirty-one. That’s a huge difference.”

Y/N shook her head, stepping closer. “I don’t care about that.”

“You should,” Sarah said, stepping back, rubbing a hand over her face. “I’m much older than you. I should know better.”

Y/N took a deep breath. “Sarah… who cares how old we are? We play on the same team, we live in the same world, we want the same things. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and I know you feel it too.”

Sarah shook her head, but not in disagreement—more like she was trying to fight something she had already lost to.

“I do,” Sarah admitted quietly.

“Then stop pushing me away.”

Sarah looked at her, really looked at her. And whatever she saw must have been enough because, slowly, her walls started to crack.

She exhaled, then gave a small, almost reluctant smile. “You’re impossible.”

Y/N grinned. “You like that about me.”

Sarah let out a breath of laughter, shaking her head. Then, with a soft sigh, she reached out, cupping Y/N’s face and pulling her in for another kiss—this time slower, more certain.

When they pulled away, Sarah rested her forehead against Y/N’s again, smiling against her lips.

“Let’s go home,” she murmured.

And this time, when they walked out the door, they weren’t leaving anything behind. They were taking it with them.

[bropunzeling]

if ur still playing the game; 1 and 52 for Matthew/Leon :)

historical au + marriage of convenience

"Matthew. Are you sure about this?"

Matthew ignores Brady, who has been pacing around Matthew's study -- technically their father's, but Matthew is the one in town and Lord Tkachuk is in the Americas, so, Matthew's study -- and stares resolutely at the stack of correspondence on his desk he really should address by noon. After that, he'll be -- preoccupied. "Seems a bit late to be asking me that."

Brady sighs heavily. "Nothing's too late until you actually show up at the church." He flings himself into one of the two armchairs that flank the fireplace, the one that creaks horribly. "You don't even know Mr. Draisaitl."

"Don't be ridiculous. We've met." At balls and dinners, mostly, but isn't that how anyone meets anyone?

Matthew doesn't have to look at Brady to know he's rolling his eyes. "Have you ever even conversed with him?" He adds, before Matthew can interrupt, "Besides if he likes the music, or would care for something to drink."

"Yes," Matthew says shortly, taking all his letters and thumping them on his desk so the edges align. He'll have to get a new desk, he realizes, slightly hysterical. This one will stay with the Tkachuk home, and at noon he will no longer be a Tkachuk. "We've conversed."

"When?" Brady asks, disbelieving.

"At the Kunin ball. And when McDavid had his dinner party." Well. At the first one Matthew had overheard Draisaitl proclaim how tedious balls and parties were, which had rankled when it had been Matthew's friends hosting, and then he argued with him about it through a set. It had been fun, in the way that being sharp and amusing was fun, but nothing serious. At the second, they had barely conversed at all, besides trading a few barbs about fashion and business. At least it had been diverting compared to talking to the men and women of means Matthew knew he ought to be focusing on, despite how very boring they were.

And then there was that evening a few weeks ago, when Draisaitl had caught him out in the gardens. Had laid out his proposition. But Brady doesn't need to know about that.

"Matthew." Now Brady sounds truly serious. There's a creak from the armchair, and then Brady's hand lands heavily on Matthew's shoulder. "You know you don't have to do this," he says very quietly.

In that moment, Matthew wants to stand up and -- shout, honestly. Of course he has to do something. They may have a title, but they don't have funds; no matter what their father does to economize and invest the little left over from their great-uncle's mismanagement, there still won't be enough for three children to marry as they like, not without a substantial income on the other side. Brady's been in love with Quinn since they were boys growing up on neighboring estates; Taryn isn't even out yet, and Matthew wouldn't dream of having her husband hunting for a rich bore. If his siblings are going to have the lives they deserve, it's up to him to marry well, and do it fast.

Leon Draisaitl has money; has made good bets in business and benefitted from befriending a duke's heir. He clearly is more than clever enough. Good horsemanship. He even, though Matthew would never admit it out loud, is shockingly handsome. When he offered to marry Matthew, settle a more than decent sum on his siblings and ensure they could do whatever it was they wanted, Matthew knew he'd be a fool to say no.

If only Draisaitl weren't also arrogant, and stubborn, and clearly immune to Matthew's charms. If only Matthew wasn't certain there'll be a catch.

Not that it matters. They have a special license and an appointment at noon. By one o'clock, Brady and Taryn will be taken care of, and Matthew -- won't be a Tkachuk anymore.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Matthew says, shrugging off Brady's hand. "Go bother Taryn, I have to deal with these."

Brady sighs, but leaves the study. Only once he's gone does Matthew prop his elbows on the desk and shove his face into his hands. On the mantle, the clock ticks. One hour left as himself. One hour left before he becomes Mr. Draisaitl too.

[deadlyhuggles6]

.. oh my god the way this has immediately changed my world view

It's not noticeable when Mumbo first looked at himself in the mirror-his eyes had always been a bit small and piercing, and really the impromptu haircut was more immediately eye catching, with the way the waffle pattern refused to disappear no matter how he ruffled, brushed, or wet his hair. And it's been so long since mumbo last saw his human face- maybe he just forgot.

It isn't until a week later that he notices. Slumped over a blueprint he'd redrawn more times than he'd care to admit, Mumbo had been tapping the eraser of his pencil against his cheek for the last couple minutes. His hand slipped, and he flinches away a second too late. The end of the pencil tips into the edge of his eye, knocking against his eye lids and- nothing. No pain, no discomfort, nothing. He should've been in great pain with a pencil in his eye and the only thing he felt was something between his eyelids.

He yanked the pencil out of his eye and stumbled away from his desk to the small mirror in his bathroom. He stared at himself for a moment, taking in his ruffled and exhausted appearance. There was nothing wrong with his eyes.

"I'm hallucinating," he said, "Oh Void I'm hallucinating now, I thought you weren't supposed to start hallucinating until the third day of being awake."

Something sparked, behind his eye, and for a moment he was convinced he was still hallucinating, but he leaned in close to the mirror and opened his eyes wide. There. A twinkle. like a star winking in the sky. eyes weren't actually supposed to twinkle, but his were and-

He was still holding the pencil. He glanced down, and then back up at his reflection.

"I can't believe I'm actually considering..." Mumbo lifted the pencil, "Grian will never let me live this down if I gouge out my own eye and have to respawn."

Still, he opened his eye and push the pencil into it.

And kept pushing.

His hand dropped. the pencil remained, stuck three inches into his eye, held in place only by his closed eyelid. There had been no resistance, no pain, nothing to indicate the presence of an eye there.

He pulled the pencil back, and a trail of darkness beyond black, liquified nothing that sparkled like the night sky. Mumbo shuddered and shut his eyes, willing away the image of what hid behind his skin.

There's only one person he knew who would be able to explain what happened.

MumboJumbo: Grian

MumboJumbo: What did you do to my eyes

Grian: i have no idea what youre talking about

MumboJumbo: I can put a pencil into my eye and I'm pretty sure it came out dripping void

Grian: oh that

Grian: yeah thats just the vent

MumboJumbo: the vent???

Grian: you got my soul

Grian: its not supposed to be in your body

Grian: i had to make some modifications so you wouldn't explode

MumboJumbo: ... thank you for making it so I didn't explode

He didn't want to know. He didn't need to know. If he wasn't going to explode he didn't need to know.

If grian's eyes are holes in his face. And mumbo shares grian's soul from the whole thing in season eight. And some of grian's appearance leaked into mumbo via waffle hair. Does that mean the little black eyes mumbo has could theoretically also be holes in his face? Just smaller and less noticeable? I always read the shading around his eyes on his akin as like. An indent, or something akin to very prominent eyelid dip, but it could be the face slanting into the holes. Hmm.

[justgleekout]

Sunday morning sleeping in <3

[tj-crochets]

Still no craft updates on account of I feel Bad* but I did get like half a beanie crocheted this weekend? I also have a bat that's haunting me. In that there's a bat design I desperately want to turn into a plushie not in that I am being literally haunted by a bat. As far as I know I am not haunted by a bat but to be fair I'm not confident I'd know? *my heart rate got high enough that made me cough but my asthma was flaring up enough that cough launched me into an asthma attack, which raised my heart rate even more, so basically I used my emergency inhaler and then was on the floor for a while. Feels bad! Do not recommend. I'm okay though just tired

[whataphantasia]

That unforgivable thought!! That noncompliant abnormality!! Isn’t it about concealing it all and living on!!?

[sendpseuds]

"Earth to Anakin."

It's not the sound of his name that gets his attention. It's the hand waving in front of his face.

Anakin grunts, looking up to find his coworker staring unamusedly down at where he's practically lying on top of the counter, his chin resting heavily on his folded arms.

"What?" he huffs, maybe a bit too meanly, pouting out his lower lip when she narrows her eyes at him.

"Just go take your break," Ahsoka insists, gesturing at the painfully slow neon blue clock on the wall as if a slightly early lunch might be the cure to her coworker's mysterious malaise, "This place is dead anyway."

Anakin's eyes flick to the empty store entrance for what feels like the thousandth time since the clock's minute hand began to descend from two o'clock.

He could just tell her.

He could just admit he'd made a bit of a fool of himself.

Tell her he'd practically thrown himself at a man in a creased plaid shirt and worn Converse who could very easily be twice his age while the guy's teenage son fumbled around in the adult sections.

He could just be honest—

Anakin has spent the better part of his shift trying to convince himself that he'd just meant it all as a joke. That it had been a stupid prank. A way to pass the time. A dare. Challenging himself to make some stuffy upper-middle-class corporate drone squirm under his scrutiny.

All he wanted was to make the man blush.

Mission Accomplished.

Yet, here he is, staring out into an empty mall hallway with hope in his heart and lube in his pocket.

Yeah. No. He can't tell her that.

"I can wait seven more minutes, Snips," he lies, shooting her a sideways glance and trying not to crawl out of own skin as another minute ticks past, "Not like there's any work to be done."

Judging by the dramatically arched eyebrow, Ahsoka isn't satisfied by his answer.

"What's going on with you?" she asks with a scoff, her eyes studying his face, her lips in a thin line. "You're all like—" she pauses for a moment, unfolding fishnet-clad arms and gesticulating noncommittally in his general direction, "sad and squirrely at the same time. It's— unsettling."

Anakin rolls his eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replies, frowning slightly when he registers the droning whine in his voice, "Nothing's going—"

A flash of familiar plaid at the edge of his vision pulls Anakin's attention back to the front of the shop just too late to get a good look at the man but Anakin could swear—

"Yeah, sure," Ahsoka deadpans, "Totally normal behavior."

"Look," Anakin bites out, tearing his eyes away for a moment only to glance back almost immediately, "it's nothing, really." He barely believes his own words, his focus bouncing back and forth between his coworker and the door, trying to manifest a foolish fantasy even as he tries to push it all down, "I'm just having a weird day, it's not a big—"

This time, when he catches a shock of ginger hair passing by in the opposite direction, Anakin is certain he's not hallucinating, practically leaping to attention and hurrying past Ahsoka so fast he nearly knocks her over, mumbling a quick apology as he rushes out from behind the counter and toward the front.

The lights in the mall hallway are so bright he needs to blink a few times to adjust from the din inside the store, but the moment his vision clears, Anakin sees him. All of that devastating doubt drains from his body as he watches as the man [who is no longer in the company of a teenager] comes to a sudden and complete stop in the middle of the wide open hallway, flexing his hands by his sides like he's trying to locate his courage.

Barely suppressing the urge to call out some version of "Come back, Daddy!" Anakin waits, his heart hammering in his chest as the man lingers, frozen to the spot for a moment, and another, and by the time he finally turns around, Anakin's entire body is buzzing with electric excitement.

Their eyes connect immediately.

The man blushes.

Anakin can't help but smile, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against a display of t-shirts adorned with naughty puns, tilting his head back and running his tongue over his lower lip, hoping the gesture comes across as the invitation it is.

He does.

With every step the man takes, every inch closer he gets, Anakin becomes more sure it hadn't just been his imagination.

There had been— something.

Something charged. Something wild and raw and real.

Something that hung in the air between them like a promise. An oath.

Something that is definitely still there.

"Please tell me you just locked the kid in the car," Anakin grins when the man comes close enough to hear him, those shining gray eyes coming into sharper and sharper focus the closer he gets and it takes every ounce of control in Anakin's body not to simply jump him.

The man shrugs.

"He'll be fine," that soft smooth voice assures him, "I cracked a window."

Then, as if Anakin weren't already under this stranger's spell, he does something completely devastating.

He smiles.

The harsh hallway lights highlight every line and crease around his eyes, every spot aging his skin, every fleck of silver in his hair shining like strands of spider's silk in the sunlight.

It shouldn't make him hotter.

It does.

"So—" Anakin hums, doing his best to sound casual even as his heart races, "did you come back for something in particular?"

It's almost impossible not to preen when that steady gray stare falls the few inches to focus on Anakin's mouth as he chews on his lip, his teeth pressing harder into the soft flesh in a feeble attempt to stifle his smile.

"Yes," he man answers simply, his voice low and confident even with that pretty pink still staining his cheeks, glancing up to pin the younger man in his stare once again, "I believe I still owe you my thanks."

"Oh yeah, that's right!" Anakin gasps as if he's just remembered the conversation he's been replaying on an uninterrupted loop in his mind for literal hours, his mock surprise giving way to a slanted smile as he pushes off the display at his back and takes a step into the stranger's space, "And I know exactly how you can give it to me."

He smells like cedar and cinnamon and Anakin is already salivating but when he reaches out to grab ahold of the zipper on that embroidered law firm vest like he had the first time they were face to face, he's stopped just short by strong thick [how had he not noticed that earlier??] fingers circling his wrist.

"Wait."

Well, that's definitely not what Anakin wants to hear.

Then again— Wait is not stop. Wait is not no.

"Why?"

The cool confidence the man had worn just a moment ago softens into something that looks a whole lot like concern and apprehension mixed with a heavy dose of shame.

"I— I have to ask—"

Anakin knows the question before he can even get the words out.

"You wanna see my ID?" he teases, leaning in closer, cracking a wide smile when the other doesn't back away, "Gotta make sure I'm legal?"

"I just— I need to know—"

At least the guy has the decency to look embarrassed.

"Relax Daddy."

Anakin doesn't have a daddy kink.

At least, Anakin doesn't think he has a daddy kink.

It's not something that's ever really interested him before but the way this man's jaw tightens beneath his copper beard every time he says it, his eyes darkening like pale gray sky before a gathering storm—

Yeah. That, Anakin is definitely into.

"I'm of age," he promises, letting his gaze drop to the man's lips for a moment before meeting his gaze once more, "Can't even work here unless you're over eighteen—"

The number is barely out of his mouth before the fingers around his wrist slacken and the man leans back like he might run away.

"You're only—"

"No," Anakin corrects quickly, grabbing the handsome stranger just above the elbow before he can pull away completely, unable to resist the urge to tease him just a little more, "I'm over eighteen."

A deep frustrated sigh is the only response.

"I'm twenty—" Anakin says before the man can decide the horny kid who works at the mall isn't worth his time, deciding not to add 'in October' when the number doesn't do much to soften the stranger's hesitance. "I'm old enough to know what I want," he continues, his voice going soft as he trails his hand up the man's arm, squeezing the firm muscle beneath his fingers, "and I really really wanna know what your tongue tastes like."

The silent seconds that pass between them stretch on entirely too long — gray eyes studying blue like he's trying to read truth and lies without a single word before his focus falls to Anakin's parted lips.

Then, he nods.

Anakin doesn't hesitate, not needing a single extra moment to reconsider, grabbing hold of one large hand and tugging the man away from the bright lights and into the neon cave of Spencers, not even bothering to look Ahsoka's way as he shouts, "Going on break!"

"Sounds goo— hold on," she calls after him once she realizes her coworker doesn't appear to be going on his break alone, "Who is—"

Anakin says the first thing he can think of.

"My dad's friend."

He swears he hears the man bark a laugh as Anakin pulls them into the breakroom.

"Skyguy, you don't even have a—"

The door slams shut behind them.

[one][two][three]

mall goth on the mind

[thewickerking]

3 year old messages cannot be having me giggling out loud it is three am. Sighs. I think more than anything I just miss having the energy to text as many people as often as I used to. I miss late night conversations while barely awake and memorizing timezones and inside jokes and well okay maybe I do miss specific people. I miss the groupchats and servers and communities i was a part of... especially now when I feel such a lack of community around me.... :/

[nocentis]

Black Arum ┆ Siegrain

Content warning: main character death, cannibalism, gore, toxic/unreliable narrator, highly canon divergent character portrayal. Read at your own risk. You will probably take psychic damage from this.

╳┆A lure was stuck in the soot between his lungs. Many times he'd felt the tug — enough that the wire fray had worn a rut where his ribs met — and many times he'd found her on the other end, reeling for remnants of him that no longer existed. She would aim to break him open, sift around in the cinders for those specks of him she wanted to confiscate, keep for herself, so that she could finally be rid of him. Once those flecks were washed and panned, the remains would reek like plough mud closure. For that reason he would come to her whole, every whit of ash accounted for.

A cherry little game they'd play. Her with flint and steel, eager to reignite that paltry spark of "good" that flickered freely for a lapse before he remembered himself. Him with tinder and kindling, letting it light only to call on the rain again. Her with just enough hope. Him with just enough time.

That resolve was so very compelling. More than her beauty, her candor, and even that glow he so loved to bask in — that luster he wanted to hold between his teeth and bury under his nails — more than that, her tenacity was a toothsome temptation, and he wasn't keen to deny himself anything.

So when he felt the pull, he caved to the beck and spooled the lisle. That day, the line seemed lighter, thinner, than it ever had. It should've been strong. Tensile. Instead it felt gossamer fine and just as frail, poised to tear at an ill touch, and he wasn’t exactly renowned for his gentle hands. Still, he gathered it with both palms and wrapped it proudly around himself like a ceremonial sash, grin scrawled across his face something devilish.

╳┆He found her lying in the shade beneath a long-lived magnolia, still and silent as she never was, with the color of her namesake spread around her head in halo streaks. Battle-torn, as she so often was, and yet uncannily... passive.

Anything he'd planned to say went out the airlock. Instead, he stood there with an anchor in his stomach, reaping the benefit of doubt.

Not a frown nor a sigh when he darkened her sanctum, only heavenward eyes tearless and unblinking and a resigned breath just short of peaceful. That worn tether waned phantom thin, light as helium, and the tension in his chest went slack.

There was no definite snap. No dramatic severing or ear-popping moment of clarity. Only the vague sense of loss so fresh a wound that denial was a numbing salve.

“Get up,” his voice a command, sandgrit against whetstone, thickened by an unnamed antigen.

The silence felt like mockery. A placid scene void of chittering fauna, clouds' drum, or even the most timid breeze. It wanted him to hear the absence of her breath and the stillness of her chest. It wanted him to hear the hollow. The empty. The nothing. Wanted it to resonate; to find the furthest reaches of his mind and clean them out until all that was left was this icy, clarifying silence.

He knew the end when he saw it. This was something much worse. It was robbery.

Her life wasn’t for the world to take. It was for him to hold in his hands. 

Something wet and pathetic slicked his tongue — some whiny, pleading thing — and it was stubborn as oil. The authority slid to the back of his throat and left him choking, “You are the indomitable Titania. You’ve laced fingers with Death time and again only to rise and slay and conquer, so get up.”

Her warmth was set to a slow drip, spilling from her in tired beads and seeping soundlessly into her chosen ground. Little whispers of her lost to greedy loam, sullied, never to be returned.

A waste of precious love. The sod won’t drink of her as he will. It will take of her and give back what? New “life” so fragile and fleeting? A feeble weed will take root, bloom its days few, and curl itself inside out? Pathetic. An insult to her legacy. An insult to the diamond-split sharp of her bladesoul.

His heart boiled over — popping, sticking, simmering sicksweet saccharine. It colored him cloying, flooded his mouth, and forced him to kneel at her altar.

"Please," he keened, hollow and morose, and his own pleading sickened him, “Say something.”

The sun trickled through the leaves like ichor, lighting up her black-blown eyes and the thin ring of honey surrounding them. Dim, distant, and dead as the moon.

His hand carved a path to her face, fingers featherlight against her fading flush. He brushed her bangs from her eyes and forced an unbroken breath through his quavering mouth. He traced each scar too faint to see and the parts of her skin their star kissed. Memorized the map of her face — each curve and crease, each fine hair, and every eyelash. He would carve out a space in his mind in her shape and fill it with the thousand sweet nothings he kept in his pockets.

He gathered her hand and threaded it with his own. When he opened his mouth, a rickety twine escaped from the deepest point of his chest, so he forced his jaws shut to keep the grief corked. He uncurled her fingers and pressed his cheek into her palm, trapping her there against his own scarred skin. His eyes fell shut as he breathed in this borrowed touch — this moment fated, stolen from him by this world's insatiable avarice.

He kissed her palm directly in the center; held it against his mouth and felt his own ruined breath echo back to him from the deepest grooves of her skin. Again, he begged, “Please, Erza.”

Of the armors innumerable now haunting this hallowed ground, this one least befit her. 

He revered Death. If there was a god, surely it was Death, he thought, for Death asks for nothing but life. The dead don’t know that they’re dead. They know a split second of euphoria and then a sharp, definite end. Isn’t that the work of a gracious god? One last stroke of color whether in peace or peril, and then eternal rest. Back to the dust you sprouted from.

But now he couldn’t see any of that beauty he often waxed poetic about. All he could see was change yet to come. All he could see was her, and he wanted her back.

He wanted her back, yet he knew better than anyone that there was no such thing as resurrection. While Death might be gracious, it was not generous, and it was not to be reasoned with.

The thought of her buried deep, bathed by the dark and abandoned to rot — it washed his mouth acid sour. It ate straight through his tongue and lingered in the roots of his teeth, burning, raging redhot in his jaws’ marrow.  A grave didn't suit her anymore than a pyre.

Soon she would be cold. Stiff. A feast for flies and their insatiable young. In the days to come, she would bubble and bloat and sallow. Her skin would loosen and slough off. The sun would bleach her bones. The meat of her would melt into oil and fat and bogspit. She would mix in with the soil, the groundwater, and this thankless magnolia would thrive.

It was tall, thick, with branches spread in all directions. The lowest of its limbs showed off the varied deep greens of its large waxy leaves, their undersides a chalky brown. A few white flowers bloomed, palm-shaped petals open in praise like they'd come to witness and worship. There was no question why she'd chosen to crawl here. It must've reminded her of home.

Despite its beauty, it was hardly worthy of her. Nothing in this ravenous world was. Her grave should be carved within his chest. There, he could keep her warm. He could host her in his veins. One day, they would wade the waters of woe together. Until then she could live under his skin.

He wouldn’t allow her to spoil. Wouldn’t place her gently into time’s whittlesome hands only to lose her peel by peel by rotting peel.

This world has taken much from you. Do not allow it to take her too.

A carnal ache etched itself into bone, a depth of passion he hadn't felt since he wrought for a false Heaven.

She is a fruit, ripe as a plum and twice the taste. Peel her open. There is a seed at her core. Plant it in your soot-field chest and watch her bloom anew.

What are these hands for if not this?

Flesh like sheets of silk. Muscle like rope. Blood like honey. Bone like an ivory trove. The splitting, the squelching, the straining, ripping, snapping; it burrowed marrow-deep and lingered there. Her chest peeled apart like jagged teeth, jaws croaking their rusted tune, and inside that redslick maw was the center of the universe.

The heart upon its throne, still as she, shielded by her precious lungs. It slid into his palm like it was always meant to be there. Raw, rich, and so very scarlet. Its sinews strained against his pull — those hollow vines that fed even the furthest parts of her — so he wrenched them free and draped himself in them like matchless finery.

Eat. Eat ‘til you’re sick. There’s a hole the size of her in the pit of your stomach. Eat until you fill it. 

What are these teeth for if not this?

Tough as leather; smooth as rubber. His teeth slid right off the rind and clicked together with nothing but metallic sheen between them. He gnashed at that ink-dripping muscle until he found a spot weak enough to tear apart. It tasted of rare meat and iron; a heady gore thick enough to drown in. He swallowed, gasped, and that first new breath felt like a blade.

The child inside him saw her split-open ribs as his cradle. He wanted to crawl inside, curl up, and die. He wanted to paint himself her color.

He lost his vision to the hot, angry wash. His own sobs were a distant sound, muffled by meat and blood and his own desperate fingers. He was numb in the mouth and in the shake of his hands, but he forced himself to eat, eat despite the choking, the gagging, the wet, weeping remorse.

Don’t you dare throw her up. Be grateful. Swallow and say thank you and finish what you’ve started.

He bit into his own palm, indistinguishable from her core, and he cried out in sour relief. His hands spread raw grief over his face, through his hair, and down his neck.

You’re no better than this starving world.

He curled into himself, hands clutching his own aching chest, and despite the cloudless sky, he called upon the rain.