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thehighladywrites · 6 months

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The Airhead chronicles

…and the run-in.

-> Pairing: Cassian x bimbo/ditzy reader

-> Summary: suggestive themes, cassian getting bricked up bc reader is super cute, reader being an absolute sweetheart, daddy cassian radiating big dick energy. cassian runs into you while he runs errands, peaking his curiosity. he’s determined to find out more about his mysterious mate. what were you doing in velaris and how the hell did she have a house in the most fancy and exclusive neighborhood? cassian himself had been on the waiting list for over 60 years… he asks her out on a date to find out more.

-> Author’s note: This one is my favorite so far, I’m trying to build a mysterious air around reader bc she might not be bright but best believe she’s a baddie. Also if you see any typos, no you didn’t

Part one Part three

Cassian was going insane.

He only knew your name and where you lived and it wasn’t enough. He wanted to know everything about you. What made you smile, cry, laugh, pissed off. What kind of food you like, your favorite color - He wanted to know you inside and out.

Your little kiss had left him with a thundering heart and a hard cock. It was a wonder that he didn’t break down your door and storm in just to be in your presence for a few seconds.

He almost felt embarrassed as he stood behind a building, watching you enter the coffee shop across Feyre’s art studio. Cassian wasn’t stalking you or anything, he genuinely happened to spot you strolling through the streets while he was running errands. Panic took over and his first insight was to hide.

The streets of Velaris echoed with the enchanting click of your 5-inch, black platform heels, announcing your arrival. You had such a light around you, smiling at strangers and kids. Your outfit, showcasing a black, sexy yet sophisticated skirt paired with a white top, black sheer tights, and a maroon bag thrown over your shoulder, exuded a captivating sense of style. The only reminiscent element of your previous style Cassian saw that night, was the attention-grabbing almost stripper heels.

Your unconventional fashion choice, though beautiful, set you apart from the usual attire of Night Court women, revealing that you were not a native of this place. What brought you to Velaris? Cassian pondered if your stylish yet professional outfit hinted at a specific job or occupation.

Decided that he wanted some answers, he made his way to the coffee shop. His ears picked up on your sweet voice as it was heard throughout the shop.

“Hi, how are you? Can i please have a caramel latte with extra caramel and whipped cream on top? Okay, thank you!!” You had your hands behind your arms as you hummed a little song. The ring of the door bell caught your attention as you whipped your head to the door, your freshly styled hair swaying. Your heart started beating faster as you saw who walked through the door. Letting out a shriek, you threw yourself in Cassians arms as you felt his chest rumble with a chuckle. “ Hi Cassie!! Whatcha doin here?” His hands tightened around your waist as he smelled your intoxicating perfume when you pressed your soft body against his hard one.

“ Hi there, darling. I was just walking around town and decided to stop for some coffee. What are you doing?” He flipped the question, praying that you wouldn’t sense his lie. Curiously, Cassian also wondered about your destination as you appeared business-ready and on the move. The barista called your name and you skipped over to get your sweet drink. It was honestly a wonder your teeth hadn’t rotted away, you loved eating sweet things. “ I’m just getting a little something to drink. Um, actually, can you hold my drink, I just need to get my money out.” Your painted lips had a cute pout as your brows furrowed in concentration, pulling out your money. “Nonsense, I’ll pay for your drink, since I owe you one, remember.” You looked up at him with big eyes. “ Thanks Cassie, you’re such a nice guy!” He merely laughed, “Paying for a lady’s drink is a standard courtesy, sweetheart.” You smiled and sipped on your drink, blushing furiously.

Oh, he looked so good today. Perhaps because it was night, you didn’t see his face clearly, because he was looking a million times hotter than he did thst night. So ruggedly handsome and manly, ugh you were totally turning into mush…

After paying for your drinks and ordering his own, he opened the door for you and offered you his elbow but you opted to grip his bicep instead. Your stomach flipped as you felt the hard muscle ripple with each step. Wow, he must work out like everyday to look like this. “ Wanna taste my drink, Cassie?” you offered as you pushed the hot drink in his face.

He didn’t have it in him to tell you that he absolutely didn’t drink sweet drinks, in fact he hated them. It was too much sugar and he always stuck to his strict routine and food habits, and you had ordered not only a caramel latte, it was also one with extra caramel and whipped cream on top. Basically death in a cup, a stark contrast from his black coffee.

But Cassian took one look at you and folded. Your eyes had hope in them and he’d rather have his wings shredded than kill that shine. “ Sure, I’ll have some, pretty. “

It was an effort not to make a face as the sickly sweet drink hit his tongue but you seemed so happy and he’d drink the whole thing with no complaints if you’d ask him. Your giggles brought him back from his thoughts as he looked at you curiously.

“Whatcha laughing at? Something on my face?”

You flashed him an adorable smile and said,

” You got some of my lipgloss on your lips, just give me ooooone second. There we go! You looked so silly!” He froze when you took your thumb and wiped away the gloss on his soft lips. His legs felt like jelly when you just grabbed his bicep and dragged him along, telling him about your plans for the day.

Man, you were going to be the death of him.

“You have everything? Or is there something else you need, sweetheart?” Gods, you wanted to plant a fat kiss right ln his lips. Would that be wrong? No, of course not!! Hmm… Maybe at the end of the shopping spree? “ Mhm, I have everything, Cassie,” you coo’d gently, watching as his arms bulged from carrying so many bags.

He had spent the entire day with you, bouncing from store to store. He absolutely didn’t let you pay, insisting that you’d never pay for a single thing in his presence. Carrying your bags was out of the question aswell, he told you to just look pretty and grab his arm, which you didn’t say no to. Finally he escorted you home again, and this time he truly payed attention to where you lived. You lived in a massive townhouse in the nicest neighborhood of Velaris, he was curious on how you managed to snag something like this. These neighborhoods had been incredibly difficult to find houses in, let alone such a fine house such as your own. It made him wonder what you worked with or if you had inherited it somehow.

There was a mysterious air surrounding you that he was just dying to find out about. In his eyes, you were something of a puzzle that needed solving. He recognized the hypocrisy of his statement as he also hadn’t told you much about himself, but he could feel it in his bones that there was more to you.

No, he couldn’t let this be, Cassian wanted to get to know his mate, so he asked you out.

“ Go on a date with me, Y/n. Does tomorrow work for you?” You tilted your head and meekly told him something that made him smile.

”Yay, that sounds so much fun, I’ll be wearing something pink. Hmm, or maybe green… No, no definitely pink! What heels should I wear though?… “ Cassian felt his heart beating faster as his cheeks heated. You stood infront of your stairs as you pondered over what hairstyle you were going to pick.

He stepped closer, towering over you as you felt his heat radiating from his chest. “I’ll pick you up at 8, be ready by then sweetheart.” Cassian was hit by deja vu as you once again stood on your tippy toes and gave his cheek a kiss, leaving a lipstain print on his cheek. “ Can’t wait, Cassie!! See you tomorrow.”

He gave your forehead a kiss, right by your hairline as he got a wiff of your shampoo. You smelt heavenly and he didn’t want to let you go. But it was only until tomorrow evening and if he didn’t have the power to wait until then, then he had some serious issues. “ It’s a date then, pretty girl.” He watched as you smiled at him before skipping inside and locking your door.

Cassian felt your excitement through the bond, and felt happier than he had in a long time. He simply couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

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yeeterthek33per · 5 days

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Meet you maybe never (Pernille Harder x Magdalena Eriksson x Reader)

A/n Sort of requested. This one's been in the to be done pile for a while, and I wasn't entirely sure about it, but I knew I wanted to write it. Hardersson need more love, and I will go to the grave saying this.

Content/Warning(s): Fluff, mild angst (really have to squint bc honestly), Artist R.

Part one in a new series of mine. Let me know how I went, guys.

Pernille's sigh of exhaustion holds a familiar weight in Magdalena's mind.

One that she shares greatly, considering she also shares the exact reason for it.

Moving is a pain in the ass.

However many boxes they'd carried up the stairs to their new shared Munich apartment remains to be seen, given that she didn't remember packing this many boxes.

The place has certainly been well maintained, and everything feels brand new too, so they were both very happy with the turnout.

In saying that, unpacking is going to be a nightmare.

Sure, it was a spacious place, and they have several other rooms to work with, but now with boxes in place, their concerns lie with furniture, only being left with a bare mattress and two camp chairs until they could get around to going furniture shopping.

Looking over from her position leant back against the wall, having set down the final box in the living room, she spots her girlfriend lying flat on her back on the cool floorboards, arm draped over her face dramatically.

An amused smile crosses her lips, and she chuckles, moving to sit cross-legged next to the blonde on the floor, hand patting her stomach.

"All good, Love?"

Pernille hums softly, although given the grimace on her face, it's more like a groan than anything.

"Perfect. Just perfect."

Magda holds back a laugh, letting her hand fall to rest on her girlfriend's arm, caressing the skin above where it had fallen to rest over her eyes.

"We'll get there, Love. It's not like you haven't done it before."

"And every single time, I'm reminded how painfully exhausting it is."

The defender simply chuckles, nodding her head as her hand migrates to the woman's hair, gently carding her fingers through the light blonde tresses.

Humming softly, she shifts to lay her head in the younger woman's lap, looking up at her with a small affectionate smile that's returned with a loving look in the swede's eyes.

"Hi."

She playfully taps the defender on the nose.

"Hi."

There's a soft giggle from the light blonde.

"Love you."

Magda's small smile turns into a bigger one as she moves her hand to cradle her face.

"Love you, too."

Maybe moving to Munich isn't all that bad.

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

"Magda, come look at this."

"One second love, this dining set would go pretty well with-"

She looks around her when she notices isn't beside her.

"Babe?"

She calls out.

"Come look."

She wanders over to where Pernille is pointing, a wall across the street visible through the furniture store's windows.

It's painted in varying stages of forest greens, baby blues, and over the top is a beautiful landscape of what they assume to be the German countryside.

A little cottage on a hill, in front of a rising morning sun, brilliant oranges, and reds contrasting the background greens and blues.

"That's gorgeous, we should go have a look later."

"Let's go look now."

"But we have to-"

Pernille's already out the door before Magda can stop her, leaving the swede to sigh softly and walk back out the door after her excited girlfriend.

The painting up close is intricate with little design details that you wouldn't find unless you looked up super close.

Little details, like the bricks on the little cottage, aren't actually solid bricks but aligned words like quiet, peace and home.

The sun is made up of faintly written words of bright, future, and Pernille tells Magda, the German word for Happiness.

It's feels so planned out and thought out, they spend a long time looking over each detail, feeling every line and ridge of paint on the wall.

A local actually stops to tell them about it when they ask.

It'd been there for a couple years, having no idea who'd painted it. It just appeared one day.

They decide they love the piece, snapping a photo of it to show to family and friends for later.

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

"Shit."

You barely feel the wall against your back in the cold.

Winter in Germany is not a fun time to be outside, and yet your stupid bored brain decided it needed to scratch an itch right now.

Waiting to be pick the perfect blank canvas, you had to duck behind a bricked off area while wearing your mask.

It covers most of your face bar a small gap for your eyes.

You hadn't exactly been subtle before and you'd already been photographed wearing it.

The last thing you needed right now was the press up your ass, or worse, the police.

Unfortunately, no matter where you are in the world, paparazzi are terrifyingly aggressive.

Quickly slipping away over another wall, you hop over a bin and find a blank, almost white wall, perfect height and size.

Assessing it for a second and checking for anu nearby vantage points that people could see you in and finding none in the low rise area.

You quickly drop your backpack, rifling through the old thing for your spray caps, and move to get to work.

It had come to you earlier and had been what had initially started the itch, said itch having been in the middle of a work meeting that you could not wait to get out of.

There would always be satisfaction in the way the lines matched up and swirled around others.

This time, though, it wasn't just a colourful background to look at.

You wanted to leave something on top of it, and you knew this one would take time.

Thankfully, you knew this area of buildings was mostly abandoned due to high levels of restructuring, so getting caught by locals wasn't an issue.

It was the occasional roaming tourist that gave you worry.

Pulling out a piece of charcoal, you use it to sketch out the baselines, not wanting to get ahead of yourself again, like you had last time when you spent far too long changing little mistakes made by using black paint first, leading to your biggest issue in the first place.

A public image to the mysterious artist of Munich.

Not something you need right now.

Sighing, you roll your head side to side, eyeing up the now line drawing in front of you

It looks pretty good.

It seems frustration helps you work better.

Unlike quite a few of the lackeys you know at work.

You roll your eyes at that.

Popping your achingly cold knuckles, you admire the lines for a moment longer.

This is one you want people to see, like many of your others, only more important.

It was a big thing for you, and you knew it would finally do something for the right people.

Now, just to fill it in and get the hell out of there.

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

Magdalena and Pernille get a welcoming party with the team.

The captain, Glódís, introduces herself to the pair.

They immediately find the woman incredibly welcoming from the get-go, a warm smile to pair with the kind words and introductions to the staff at the party.

"And finally, you've met him already, but, our beloved man in charge, Alex Straus."

Alex shakes both of their hands.

"Lovely seeing you ladies again, even if it's only been a couple of hours."

He pauses to chuckle softly and then gestures around him.

"I can only hope you're settling in well. The girls are eager to get started on the season with you both."

The nod from the Icelander confirms that with a small chuckle, herself, the lot of them pestering her about the team's newest signings, having to remain tight-lipped until they could meet them in person tonight.

She gestures over to the not-so-subtly excitedly waiting group of women in the room.

"Better go introduce yourselves. Otherwise, I fear they might have my head for hogging you both."

The couple giggle softly at that.

Pernille's the first to settle with the girls.

Having spent four years with Wolfsburg made it so she had to learn German if she wanted to keep up with the banter, so she's into the mix of things quite quickly.

Particularly with the international players who all find immediate common ground with someone who they've played against many times over the years, especially after the most recent World Cup.

Georgia tucks the Dane under her arm, officially claiming her already, and latches onto Magda not soon after, both of them attaching to the Englishwoman right away.

"Finally, after who knows how long of losing to these two at City, I get my transfer here and the find the next season, the ol' captain and striker who gave me so much strife playing against Chelsea, followed me here."

There's so good-natured ribbing, and Georgia pokes Magda in the ribs in particular.

"What, can't take a little Chelsea blue, Gee?"

Magda pushes back of course, competitive as she is.

"Pft, you and I both know Manchester Blue is the best blue."

The swede scoffs.

"You wish, Stanway."

"Nah, it's just facts, Eriksson."

The rest of the group giggles, knowing this fast friendship was going to be an entertaining one.

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

It seems it doesn't take long.

News of the artwork in Munich spreads like wildfire, catching the attention of your bosses almost immediately.

There was no way they would allow the media team to share this, considering the illegal nature of the piece, but they weren't displeased with it's sudden appearance, nor the traction it's gaining either.

It's a big thing for them.

It means more attention on the club, and it means more support from people because of how much they love the artwork.

That was an ego boost and a half.

Now, as you stare at the image on the projector board, you start doing what you always do and pick apart the piece.

Somethings not quite right with it, you think.

"Ms L/n, what do you think of this new development?"

Trying to appear as though you were paying attention, you look around at the other board members around you.

"I think it's the perfect opportunity for our latest news to gain attention. It certainly won't hurt that those players will gain attention, too."

Pausing to think for a moment before adding.

"Of course, there is always the risk of bad attention, especially from the press, but we can deal with that like we always do."

Another pause for a moment.

You glance over to the projector with the photo of the mural, rubbing your jawline softly, noting that something just felt off about the piece all of a sudden.

The eyes aren't right, there's not enough curve to the jaw.

You can't figure it out yet.

The itch returns for a moment before you continue, avoiding starting up too much on the itch.

"And with the good press, the club will gain more support from fans who will follow the players here, too. We should try and boost the promotion while we're at it. I'm aware the media team is doing the usual, but let's get in on the waves these two seem to be making while we're at it. Does anyone have any ideas?"

A woman further down the table pipes up.

"We can set up for some get to the know the players videos, have some meet and greets, send some of the veteran players with them over to a couple different plazas?"

A soft nod from you in agreement.

"Sounds good. We can let the media team handle the rest. Please. Stephen. Continue."

He nods before flipping to the next item on the agenda.

"Thank you, Director."

Nodding at the man, you turn back to your papers, scribbling small notations every so often, once again.

It seems the board aren't against it.

Good.

For now, you'd just have to encourage the publicity of the piece.

Not yourself.

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

With training beginning within a couple of days of moving to Germany, it doesn't take long for whispers of the piece to make it to the gossip in the changing room.

Magda and Pernille don't realise what it's about until they ask what all the fuss is.

Some of the younger girls had been fawning over a photo taken from a distance, the piece lit up perfectly under the early setting winter sun.

Catching the sight of it over the shoulder of one of them, they ask about the name attached to it.

Scrawled in the caption, something catches Pernille's eye, having some knowledge of written German.

'Straßengänger'

Streetwalker.

"Who's that?"

She directs the question towards the younger Dutch girl on the team, Jill Baijings.

"Eh, a popular street artist, though they aren't really known aside from the name. Their stuff is really good, though."

She holds the phone closer to the women.

"Have you seen this yet?"

Pernille looks closer at the image, brows raising in surprise, with a soft muttered 'oh'.

The red, blue and baby blue, apparently FC Bayern themed background, made the highly realistic greyscale portraits pop nicely.

It was a promotional image for them.

As in Magdalena and Pernille.

Words scribbled under the image read,

"Welcome to Munich, Magda and Pernille!"

The image itself is beautiful.

It's an image of their faces in what is most likely both stages of goal celebration, screaming with victory, eyes crinkled and wide smiles, paired together over the gorgeous pattern, highlighting it perfectly.

It almost doesn't look real in the photo. But it's still very awe-inspiring to see.

Fans always have the most talent when it came to art like that, and it never ceases to amaze them.

Magda peers over her shoulder beside her, letting her appreciation for the art be known with a low whistle.

"Honestly, you guys will have to see it in person, though. it's so much better when you can get up close to it. All of their artworks always are."

"What did you say the name was, again?"

"Straßengänger."

"What does that mean?"

It comes from Magda.

"Streetwalker. We don't actually know where the name came from, whether it was the artist themself or the locals but either way."

They both nod, humming thoughtfully.

Maybe they would have to check it out.

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

You know coming back is a bad idea, but you love the piece too much to not come back to it, knowing it would irk you to not get a better stance on anything that might need fixing, despite your best efforts to ignore the itch.

Of course, this time, without the mask on because that be even stupider.

Going back to the scene of the crime wearing exactly the attire that would incriminate you.

Standing back from a distance, you snap a photo under the settling sun in the cooling weather.

Something catches your attention off to the left, a pair walking down the sidewalk, well, more strolling slowly then anything.

Linked arm in arm and bundled far less than a lot of people would be for winter weather, they're wearing coats but braving the cold with thin material pants and shoes.

It's not that that catches your attention, though.

It's more your unabashedly gay side that notices them.

It seems you've caught the attention of your art's subjects.

Because here they are, noticing it finally, standing back admiring your work of them.

You quietly step away, but still close enough to hear the soft murmuring of them, being the only people on the street at this dying hour, you can hear them amongst the small breeze passing over the road.

They're definitely speaking Swedish because you can't make out what they're saying, only understanding the familiar lilt and tone of surprise in their words.

"Det är vackert."

"Varför oss?"

"Jag vet inte men det är fantastiskt."

You're about to walk away when Pernille walks closer to it, running her hand over the dried paint, her eyes moving over the piece slowly.

You notice she's tracing the underlying wording, realising she must have seen your art before to notice it that quickly.

As you keep a subtle eye on her, she's standing in the fading rays of sunlight, giving her a soft golden glow.

Her girlfriend moves to wrap her arms around her and it's then you see both of them a little differently to before you'd seen them in person.

They're absolutely beautiful, together and individually, and you realise you haven't captured that properly with your latest work.

It gives you another itch.

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

"You know, we have to meet this person."

Magdalena hums softly in agreement, hands running over Pernille's shoulders, staring up at the wall, eyes tracing the lines, the shading and the shape work, particular over the little footballs making up the swirls on the O in Welcome.

Her hand moves to her pupils in the portrait, paying attention to the way they're made up of shining stars.

The same with Magda's portrait.

There's a soft shuffle from behind them, and Magda's head swivels to look up at the source for a moment.

You're standing there, looking down at your phone, a soft smile on your face as you tap away at it.

She'd seen you standing there earlier already, taking photos, so she doesn't pay you much mind in the end, and you turn and walk away, putting the phone to your ear.

Although, there is mild niggle of curiosity, she brushes it off.

You're probably just another tourist looking at the piece.

"Come on, we have to head back soon or we'll start freezing out here."

"Few more minutes, Magda... Where's all those Swedish genes gone huh?"

Pernille teases the taller woman, poking her in the cheek.

Magda rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

"Yeah, yeah, real funny, babe."

Pernille chuckles, leaning back into the Swede.

She was right, though.

She had to find whoever did this.

The curiosity was getting to Magda, too.

Why them?

Of any of the influential people in Munich.

Or just any of the women's players.

Why them?

She has so many questions.

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

"And last but certainly not least, welcome to our newest signings, Magdalena and Pernille. Thank you for joining us and we hope you enjoy your stay here at FC Bayern."

The FC Bayern committee room erupts with a small applause from the players and board members before them who were all called in for a club wide meeting, even receiving a small whoop from Georgia in the back that makes the players around her either chuckle or roll their eyes at her.

"Now, handing off to our creative director."

"Danke, Herbert."

Stepping up onto the podium, the person immediately catches Magda's attention.

It's you.

The woman from the other day in town, at the wall.

There you are, climbing the steps up to the podium, black blazer jacket and blue jeans, half tucked with a white button up and a FC Bayern logo embroidered on the jacket pocket.

Pernille notices it, too.

"Now, I know this probably going to be the boring part but I'll try and keep it simple and just go over what our plan is for the next few months."

Looking out over the group, you keep your best public smile on.

"Don't worry, you don't have to remember any of this, as you'll be reminded as each one comes up so we don't miss anybody."

As you start to list off each of the latest marketing events and programs, your eyes shift over the players in their seats, despite the usually tired response at your while lilted, droning about the business side of things, you make eye contact with a very vigilant looking certain pair.

Your eyes crinkle mildly as you fight off too much of wide smile.

"There's a few meet and greets we want to go ahead with before the start of the season, including our newest signings, men and women, we'll send the details to those involved later."

You pause for a moment, eyeing up the latest of the new men and women in the crowd, placing back on the Scandi couple for a second before drifting and continuing.

"And, finally, we have an unfortunately mandatory promotional event on the third of October. It is also a black-tie event, so even me, who as many of you know already, shows up to everything wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, will have to dress up, please do the same. Thank you for listening everyone."

"Thank you, Director."

Taking a seat back with the crowd, it's almost like you can feel a pair of eyes on the back of your head.

You don't turn to face them, though, already knowing exactly who it is.

After the meeting is adjourned, you stand and ready to leave back to your office when a body stands in front of you.

A familiar tall Swede.

"Hey, I don't believe we've met properly."

"I'm Y/n L/n, creative director here at FC Bayern München."

"Magdalena Eriksson, although you already know that, it seems."

You smile, nodding and extending a hand out to her.

She shakes with a warm but firm grip, leaving the skin tingling a little.

She really is much more beautiful in person.

"It's lovely meeting you, Magdalena-"

"Call me Magda, feels a bit much for a full name, now."

"Lovely meeting you, Magda."

Letting go of her hand, you bid her as polite a goodbye as you can give, knowing any longer and you'd gay panic yourself into a problem, you make your way towards the door.

As you shift through the small crowd of players, nodding and smiling in acknowledgement to those who do know you or have met you, you exit the room swiftly, heart mildly racing.

You'd seen the look of recognition in her eyes, not from knowing who you are at Bayern, but perhaps somewhere else.

You aren't risking it.

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

First and second training with the team went as smoothly as it could for any new team members.

However, their third is a little less cathartic.

Having to do extra medical assessments and fitness testing before being able to join the team, everything had been hurting that day.

They arrive home to their shared apartment almost completely worn down from the session.

At home, in their new apartment, finally furnished, for the most part, they both agree to get an early night's rest.

Annoyingly though, they can't seem to find it in them to sit still and toss and turn for the next hour or so, both of them in agreement they weren't sleeping right now.

They head out for another stroll through the quieter parts of the city, instead, taking a bus out there for the first ten minutes or so.

Hand in hand, they stroll down the quiet village-esque side of Munich, just breathing in the cool air, occasionally stopping to admire the rustic, olden style.

It's in the really silent part of town that they notice something.

The distinct sound of... a rattling can?

A spray can to be exact.

Pernille nods in the direction of a small alley, Magda initially shaking her head no, not sure if they should really confront someone who could be possibly dangerous or someone associated with the law.

Of course, the Dane sneaks over anyway to peek into the alley.

There, a figure stands with their back to them, hand wrapped around a baby blue can of spray paint.

The painting looks halfway done.

It's a portrait.

Of Pernille.

The woman's eyebrows just about fall off her face at the surprise and she turns back to her girlfriend who's waiting anxiously, looking about three seconds from dragging Pernille to the next taxi back to their apartment.

She gestures quietly to whisper to her over the cold wind howling through the gaps in the buildings.

"It's that artist."

"I figured, but we really shouldn't be associating with them. C'mon, we have to leave."

"Magda, c'mon, this is our chance to meet the person behind that mural."

A bit of back and forth before Pernille peeks her head around the corner to look, again.

This time, though, the person is bent down, rifling through their backpack, and a spray cap.

When Pernille turns back to a now very concerned Magda, she whispers in her ear.

"Just another minute. Just have a look at least."

The Swede very reluctantly agrees, looking for herself.

Concern is the first thing to pop into her mind.

This one is just of Pernille, accentuating the woman's eye colour and bright smile.

Is the artist, infatuated?

A million thoughts an hour as she watches the smooth, almost mesmerising way their hands trace lines and fill gaps.

When you pull out a paint marker to start with smaller details, she turns back to her girlfriend.

"Are they obsessed with us or something? This feels a little weird at this point."

Pernille frowns, almost shaking her head to disagree.

As the woman's about to answer, there's suddenly some shuffling, almost unnoticeable jingling of zippers and a body sat up on a short wall on the other side of the walkway, bag back on their shoulders once more.

"Actually, I'd say it's more an appreciation for a pair of legends in Munich."

They both startle heavily, Magda going into protective mode, arm around Pernille, pulling herself in front of the woman fully.

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

The pair of them peeking on you were about as subtle as a whistle among bells.

Figuring you'd have to finish it later, you pack up swiftly, ensuring your mask sits on your face correctly before sneaking out of the alleyway to sit up on a wall above them.

After a not-so-much needed scare, you raise your hands in a surrender gesture.

"I won't hurt you. I just figured I should say hello personally since you're both here and all."

Magda looks nervous, and you can see the curiosity in Pernille's eyes from where you're casually seated.

"Although, I do suggest not sticking around. It's going to be a PR nightmare for the three of us if you're seen with the Straßengänger."

You punctuate the nickname with air quotes.

As you're about to jump up to climb onto the rook and make a swift disappearance of yourself, you hear one of them yell out to you.

Hesitating, you turn back to the pair.

"Why us?"

Pernille's brilliant grey-blue eyes look up at you, a radiance of dying curiosity in them as she holds her girlfriend's hand to calm the woman.

You stop for a moment before shrugging.

"A pair of beautiful women in the biggest sport and uprising for women. Why not you?"

It's there Magda gets a unrecognisable look on her face and you decide to leave it there.

With that, you scramble up onto the building, annoyed with yourself for having dragged ALL of your gear with you and also for leaving a half finished work behind.

A day or so later.

Luckily for you, no one else seems to stumble upon your work just yet, and with much scouting and caution, you find yourself back in that alley finishing what you started.

Making sure to adjust the shine in the subject's eyes to fit exactly how they shone up at you the day previously.

This time, the representation of the Danish captain seemed far closer to the spectacle she is in real life.

You're pleased with yourself for this one.

And it's scratched half the itch you'd had days prior.

Now for the other half.

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

After their sudden meeting with the Straßengänger, Magda and Pernille are left with more questions than answers.

They both agree to just return home for the night, knowing it's a question for another day when they aren't in the middle of an already chaotic media storm.

After that, they get swept up in everything Bayern and put everything about the artist to the back of their minds.

Their first match is approaching fast and Alex already has Pernille in the starting lineup, so she gets distracted in preparation for that, finding herself busy studying the formation and technique of an entirely new team.

So much so, that she almost... almost forgets about the mural maker.

Although...

There's just one question that bugs Pernille constantly, despite her best efforts to focus fully on their new path in Germany.

Magdalena feels much the same.

"Who are you, really, Straßengänger?"

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

247 notes · View notes

55sturn · 3 months

Text

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ SAYIN’ SORRY FOR THAT NIGHT

↳ series masterlist!

↳ summary: in which y/n is greeted by a sudden revelation on the night of chris’ most anticipated game, the one that determines whether or not the bruins get into the playoffs and she’s left apologizing for the night that caused it all.

↳ parings: boston bruins player!chris sturniolo x fem!reader!

↳ warnings: swearing, fluff, mentions and descriptions of violent fights, verbal arguments, unplanned pregnancy, discussion of abortions, comments from the other team and hecklers, open ending, angst, angst, angst, and more angst.

↳ author's note: loosely based off back to december (taylor’s version) by taylor swift! , red italics are comments from random people!

↳ important things to note 0.02: a) i’m canadian and a montreal fan ‘til the day i die so writing a boston centric fic where the bruins win is killing me. b) i’m writing it so that carey price is still the canadien’s goalie bc i miss him and he was my favourite goalie.

THIRD PERSON POV

to be in the limelight alone is tough. to be in it for something such a hockey, where a million and one eyes are watching your every move, scrutinizing every play you make, every workout you do to toughen your body and build your endurance for the tasking time spent on the ice is even tougher, but to do all of that with a public relationship is the toughest thing.

chris knew that announcing his relationship at the peak of his career with the boston bruins was not going to be easy. he had all eyes on him as the bruins' newest right winger, but not only was he the newest player, he was also the youngest to join in years.

just like connor mcdavid's rise to fame with the edmonton oilers, chris was in the spotlight and it wasn't easy. he was in the spotlight because he was a phenomenal player with a chipper attitude that most hockey players don't seem to have. he had been scouted at one of his toughest games in his college career and almost immediately the contracts began flowing and the drafting process had started.

as eyes of everyone involved in the hockey world began to shift to the star of what they called "the boston bruins' new era and future captain", so did the female attention. not only was chris good at what he did, but he was insanely good looking, at least to the younger female demographic that had taken an interest in hockey.

but he didn't care for the, for a lack of a better name, puck bunnies or the future hockey wives in training, he had his own hockey wife sitting front row in the v.i.p section at every game, smiling as she watched him zip back and forth between his teammates and the teammates that he was facing

as he announced who the mystery girl in his practice jersey at every game was, he faced an onslaught of even more hate disguised as criticism and scrutiny from devout bruins fans, potential drafting scouts, and anyone willing to spare an opinion. but as the rather distasteful comments rolled in, his skin grew thicker, because as long as he had her to go home to, he could handle it.

PRESENT TIME

chris sat on the bench in the hallway adorning the infamous bruins logos, each brick in the wall holding some sort of history of the team, twirling tape around the blade of his stick. he found the dressing room too stuffy right before a game, so he and john beecher sat outside the dressing room, joking amongst themselves as they prepared for the game.

"cmon man, you played big games before you'll be fine." john chuckled, handing chris back his spare roll of stick tape as chris sighed.

"i know, it's just a big fuckin' game tonight. haven't played montreal yet."

"wait this is your first game against montreal?"

"yes and as a boston native, i know this is the game, just don't wanna fuck up when this decides whether or not we make it to playoffs."

"kid you'll be fine, you've outdone mcdavid's first year and that's pretty fuckin' bizarre 'cause he's a powerhouse." beecher reassured, clapping the young right winger on the shoulder before heading back to the dressing room. chris stared at the wall across, still struggling to comprehend how his life has become the way it is, he's incredibly grateful for the opportunities he's gotten and proud of the work he's put in, it's just still hard to fathom.

sensing that she should give her boyfriend a quick visit before he went on to the ice, y/n made her way through the crowds of people, smiling at the fans that addressed her, politely declining to take pictures until after the game. she proudly donned a large "8" and the name "STURNIOLO" scrawled across the back of a black away-game jersey and black jeans and her trusty, yet dirty, air forces, proudly showing her support for the man she's loved for six years, since she was a small fourteen year old navigating her year of high school with the triplets by her side.

the thin plastic stick weighed heavy in the pocket of her hoodie she wore beneath the jersey, she was about to tell chris about it, to give him a little motivation to play extra hard. but when she spotted the reporter’s mic pointed toward his helmet covered face, she placed that idea on the back burner. smiling she approached chris,

“hey mister big shot.” she laughed, causing chris to grin as he introduced her to the reported as his girlfriend. the reporter quickly bid the couple goodbye, leaving them to have their moment together.

“hey so i’ve got some really good news for you.” y/n smiled, smoothing her hands over his shoulder pads as he tugged off his helmet, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

“listen i wanna go be apart of the chant so i need to go, can this news wait?”

“i guess so. give ‘em hell baby, i love you.”

“always ma, i love you.” chris replied, bouncing on his skates slightly before shoving his helmet back on, quickly shoving his way through the door leading to short hallway his team would walk through.

y/n stared at his back, watching him fade away as she was left to mull over the news she was about to tell chris. it was the start of his career and she didn’t want to derail it any, so the choice between telling him now or tell him in a month waged a violent war in her mind.

shaking her head, she made her way back to the staircase leading to the v.i.p section, as she wove through crowds of people, she heard the gasps and murmurs.

“that’s who the new bruins guy is dating? i won’t be shocked when he starts fucking the puck sluts in a month.”

“she looks out of place and that jersey is so unflattering on her.”

“i hope sturniolo comes to his senses and dumps her ass soon.”

scoffing, y/n climbed the stairs, pushing the overwhelmingly upsetting thoughts from her mind as she spotted nick and matt in their seats. breaking the news to someone was imperative to her, not telling someone would break her but she didn’t know whether she should tell someone before chris.

of course she and chris had talked about their views on starting a family together and the idea of raising a baby together but there was one issue,

chris wanted to wait until secured a long term contract with the bruins. he didn’t want anything to deter his plans. and y/n understood, he has worked so unbelievably hard to get to the position he’s in now. starting a family takes a lot of dedication, time, effort, and devotion without distractions. chris was concerned that if they had a baby early on in his professional hockey career, she’d be left alone to carry out so many of the responsibilities that being a parent brought on.

so as y/n made her way to her designated seat, her heart felt heavy. her doubts only grew with every step she took, and it felt like her body had been held down, it was as if she had cinder blocks chained to her ankles. as she sat beside nick, he picked up on her mood, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that sonething was bothering her though. nick bumped her elbow with his, as if to ask what’s wrong and she just smiled and shook her head.

mary-lou, who was sat behind y/n and her three sons, immediately knew what was going on. y/n had a certain glow to her, despite the sorrowful look that had become deeply etched into her skin. she knew that pained expression anywhere, she understood what the taut shoulders, pinched eyebrows, and distraught gleam in her eyes all too well. but the older woman put her excitement about becoming a grandmother off to the side, deciding she’d wait to gloat until y/n had accepted the idea her self.

the family conversed among themselves while the teams prepared to saunter out onto the ice, letting the fans get hyped up. a voice boomed from above, prompting cheers and hollers from the people taking up the stands.

“please welcome your home team, the boston bruins!” the commentator exclaimed, dragging out the words boston bruins in typical emcee fashion, allowing the fans and supporters chant for their team as he played the bruins’ intro song as they skated onto the ice one by one, the emcee announcing the names and numbers above the music.

y/n couldn’t help but lett the pride and excitement she felt show brightly on her face, despite the worries she suffered deep down. she was so incredibly proud of chris, him landing a secure spot on the bruins was a long time coming. it was his dream back in high school the moment he secured a spot on his high school’s team with ease. he was a natural born hockey player and it showed through the surplus of dedication he put into it. and y/n felt more than lucky to be there on the sidelines from the very beginning.

as the emcee asked from everyone to stand for the national anthem, a cheesy grin broke out on her face as chris stood on the offensive line facing the vip box, and pointed up to where he knew she’d be sitting before forming his hand into the best half heart possible that his bulky gloves would allow. she felt her cheeks warm with a deep blush as chris’ family playfully teased her for having their brother and son completely and unfalteringly whipped.

“shut up!” she laughed, her nerves drifting away as the game started. the excitement she never failed to feel at every single one of chris’ games, whether it was just him filling in for the local adult men’s teams or an exhibition game for his old college team, she was always filled with adrenaline as she stood and sat in the stands.

but that was expected when born into a city that favours the winter sport, you were either born with the excitement coursing through your veins or you were born with a deep hatred for it filling every crevice of your body. there was no in between.

y/n cheered along with chris’ family as he zipped, swerved, bobbed, and weaved up and down the ice. that was one thing that most players envied chris for, he was fast and slick, almost as if he was water slipping through your fingers.

and not only was he fast, he held great control over the puck as she moved down the ice, the puck never got away from him as he maneuvered it between players, alternating which side his stick was covering and pushing it.

there was fifteen seconds left in the second period and both montreal and boston held three goals each as chris stood for a moment back checking as his teammates guarding him, and with five seconds ticking down, he delivered a brutal slap shot, sending the puck into the net behind carey price who had dropped to block it a second too late.

the bruins fans’ side of the stands erupted in loud cheers, and so did y/n and chris’ family, his parents laughing giddily as matt made a backhanded comment about price being too old for goaltending.

“i will be right back, i have to use the washroom.” y/n interjects, letting nick know where she’d while the rest of them grabbed drinks.

“yo y/n, you drink budlight right?” justin hums, causing her stomach to drop, her usual habit of having a beer with them at chris’ games being something she hadn’t even considered.

“uh can you just grab me an iced tea? i’ve got an early appointment tomorrow and i’d rather not show up at my doctor’s smelling like beer.” she laughs nervously, causing justin to shrug and accept her answer before heading off to the concession stand near the entrance of the vip box.

“i’ll come with you, i’ve got to use the ladie’s room too.” mary-lou hums, smiling appreciatively as y/n waited for her.

however as they made their way to back of the section they were sitting in, mary-lou motioned for y/n to follow her out into the small hallway that lead to the smoking doors, it was empty as the two stood there.

“how far along are you?” mary-lou whispers, unable to withhold her suspicions any longer, and the abrupt question had y/n’s stomach twisting into more knots than it was already in.

“wha-how did you figure it out?”

“i’ve had my suspicions for a while, the last time you were over i heard you throwing up, and you’ve got the pregnancy glow. plus you’ve been wearing baggy clothes and you aren’t drinking tonight.”

“fuck. sorry for my language. but i think i’m about two and a half months along. last month i just thought my period was late because i was sick and when i get sick, my period is normally late. but then i missed this month’s too and it clicked.”

“have you told chris yet?” mary-lou spoke, her voice soft as she rest a reassuring hand on her future daughter in law’s arm as she shook her head.

n“i wanted to tell him before the game, to give him a little motive to play harder but he didn’t want to miss the chant and pep talk so he left before i could say anything about it. i’ve got the test in my pocket and i know it’s not smart to go off just one test so that’s why i’m going to the doctor tomorrow.”

“well i think you should tell him, i think he’ll be happy.”

“that’s what i’m worried about, he wanted to wait until he secured a long term contract. we had this conversation about a month ago.”

“you can’t necessarily control these things. a family comes to be when it’s meant to happen, not when you want it to happen.”

mary-lou’s words stuck deep in y/n’s mind. she knew that chris’ mother was right. y/n had just wished her and chris were a bit more careful that drunken night in the hotel.

FLASHBACK

chris and y/n’s drunken giggles bounced off the walls as they pushed their way into their room. they had gone out for dinner with the team and eventually broke off on their own after swiping two of the complementary bottles of champagne that the teams managers had provided.

they stumbled through the city after hiding in an empty room in the banquet hall, chugging the nasty liquor as quick as they could handle on empty stomachs.

“god baby, you look so pretty in this dress, just wanna tear it off you.” chris rasped, his cheeks flushing and eyes drooping, from the alcohol, or the effect his girlfriend had on him, or maybe even both, she wasn’t quite sure. making him look all the more enticing to y/n.

“do it then.” y/n slurred back, pulling chris into a messy, sloppy, yet incredibly hot, like searingly hot, make out, chris’ hands roamed her body feverishly, unable to stay in one place very long.

as their ministration progressed, so did their desire for one another and the lingering buzz they had from the alcohol left room for a few less than sound decisions. chris drunkenly justified going in raw by saying “just wanna feel as close to you as possible.” and that was all the convincing y/n needed, but she made him promise to pull out in time.

but due to their inebriation, chris wasn’t quick enough but they had long forgotten it by the time morning came.

FLASHBACK OVER

and now she was paying the price for them being reckless. sighing, she made her way back to her seat just as the intermission ended and chris' team made their way back to the home bench, their net switching back to the end they started out on.

it wasn't too far into the third period when the canadiens were getting aggressive, the score was eight to five in favour of boston and montreal was getting mad that they were losing the game, the most awaited game since it was announced boston and montreal would be facing each other to land a bracket in the playoffs.

the fact that it was also playoff season made y/n's stomach twist even tighter, she felt sick. she was so scared she was going to fuck up chris' life plan and she couldn't bear that idea.

but her current worries were thrown on the back burner when she watched a much bigger player from montreal's team check chris, sending him flying back against the ice, his head ricocheting off the ice, leaving chris laying flat on the ice.

chris' coach calls a time-out while paramedics quickly make their way onto the ice, carrying chris off the ice, and before y/n could react, she was pushing her way through the bustling crowd and stomping down the stairs, quickly sprinting to chris' change room.

"i'm sorry ma'am but you can't be in here."

"i'm his fiance." y/n spits, pushing her way into the change room, immediately rushing to chris, raising her hand to play with his hair, pausing momentarily to silently ask for permission which was granted by him leaning into her touch.

"we're okay, if anything happens, we'll call for you." chris rasps, waving away the paramedics, sighing sadly after being told he's not allowed back on the ice for the rest of the game to prevent being knocked around again because he was highly vulnerable to getting a concussion right now.

"tell me something to distract me, baby." chris whispers, pulling y/n into his lap, the bulky padding beneath her feeling foreign as she leans her head on her shoulder.

"i'm not sure what to talk about." she laughs as he rubs his hand back and forth along her thigh.

"your news from earlier."

"oh." she squeaks, her voice almost inaudible as she realizes that it's now or never. sighing, she grabs the test out of her pocket from beneath the spare jersey she wore, placing it into chris' hand with a heartbroken expression and timid voice,

"we're pregnant, chris."

↳ taglist: @dylsdunbar @verosivy @soursturniolo @4sturns @sturnsclutter @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @strawberrysturniolo @lustfulslxt @sturnifyed @carolsturns1 @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @cutenote @ellie-luvsfics

love a good cliffhanger!! if you want me to make this into a mini-series i am beyond willing to! i have plans for this story tbh<3

391 notes · View notes

thebearer · 9 months

Note

Okay, I feel like Teddy would have broken bones throughout her childhood for sure. But like, imagine Carmy and reader being so worried when Teddy gets hurt each time, and like the one time when she breaks or injures something and she needs to have surgery for it how freaked they are about it and like Tina, and Richie and everyone is there waiting for her. And Teddy would totally beg Marcus to make her all the desserts for her while she recovers. Thanks! I got a little carried away, lol.

i feel like teddy, yes. like ofc she's accident prone (she's literally just a ball of energy lol) but imagine this... it's willow.

like willow is so calm and sweet, but she's so clumsy too. and for some reasons she's always the one getting hurt. mainly bc teddy is so rough with her, not even intentionally, like she's just more fearless and wild.

they're jumping on the trampoline, and teddy is going absolutely insane bc a trampoline??? fuck yeah. and she's bouncing with little four year old willow, who's trying to keep up but her sister (in classic older sister style) has double bounced her like seven times. there's a net and you're watching, warning teddy each time she gets too wild, but then it happens- in seemingly slow motion.

teddy bounces willow, who flies for a second, before falling back on her side, extending her arm to brace her fall. you hear the pop! and then a shuddered breath before willow is wailing, her arm hanging by her side, bone sticking against the skin.

you're nearly lightheaded, screaming for carmen, trying to get willow off the trampoline carefully. teddy is scared to death, of course, and is sobbing too. and carmen is so overwhelmed, walking out frantically to your scared tone and two sobbing babies.

you spend your night and most of the morning in the er, each holding a crying child trying to console them. they tell you willow's break was bad and she'll need surgery, which makes you want to cry now too. carmen looks like he might genuinely pass out because the thought of his baby going to surgery???? he's horrified. needs his emotional support pepto asap.

they get her in pretty easily, and your family and friends (most from the bear) come to see her, bring her gifts and things afterwards. willow is terrified, bright eyes just wide and skittish when they tell her she's going to take a nap and come back with a cast.

carmen opts to be the parent in the waiting room, agreeing to follow all the procedures just to keep her calm until they get her under because willow would not go back there without him.

you're smothering her face in kisses. "daddy's gonna go with you, and he'll be with you the whole time, wills." you coo, smoothing a hand down her hair. "you'll get a pretty blue cast on, and then me and teddy and everyone can sign it for you. and marcus will bring you cupcakes. how's that sound?"

willow is sniffling, shuddering breaths that have your heart breaking but agrees. carmen hugs you and teddy good bye before going with them.

you're thankful richie is there, a sentence you never thought you'd say. your thankful he brought eva to keep teddy distracted, and that he could talk to a fucking brick wall if he had to. thankful he was there to keep you distracted so you didn't keep checking the time.

willow comes back, still asleep, all bandaged and wrapped up in a sling. carmen looks like he might need to throw up, which he does, but he's relieved.

willow spends the next night in the hospital, surrounded by toys and balloons and flowers- and of course, marcus brings her cupcakes.

she gets her cast eventually, and carmen draws on it for her with a sharpie. it wasn't very good, in his opinion, a little difficult to sketch with the cast material and a sharpie but willow seems to love it. giggles loudly when he shows her the various animals he'd drawn for her.

teddy enjoys it too. especially because with the influx of "get well soon" toys, she gets to play with them too. opting to "help" willow, of course, since her arm was broken. willow doesn't seem to mind, playing with her free hand with her sister, and you're just happy she's feeling better.

#thebearer #carmen berzatto #bearblahs #dad!carmen berzatto x mom!reader #dad!carmen berzatto #dilf!carmen berzatto #dorothea “teddy” berzatto #willow natalia berzatto #richie jerimovich #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #the bear #thebearerblurbs

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crazyk-imagine · 7 months

Text

Running for your Love

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x Vampire!reader

Characters: Vampire!reader, Damon Salvatore, Katherine Pierce (Katerina Petrova)

Warnings: Blood, half blood sharing, hunters, stakes, almost dying, Damon being Damon, surprise Katherine appearance bc why not, Damon snapping someone's neck, classis oblivious mystic falls residents

Word Count: 793

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

You roll your eyes, slamming the glass down on the bar top, tired of his attitude. “You know it may not matter to you, but it matters to me you ass,” you say, walking out of the Mystic Grill.

Damon rolls his eyes, knowing you’re right (and he’s just being an ass) so he continues to drink his bourbon.

“You know you could be a little nicer seeing as you love her and all,” the female says, sitting beside him.

He doesn’t have to turn to see who it is, the voice is enough. “What the hell do you want Katherine?”

She shrugs. “Nothing. I got all I needed from that.”

“Are you here to tell me how pathetic I’m being?”

“No,” she starts off. “I’m here to tell you to get off your ass and go after her.”

“Really?” He turns in his seat, needing to see her face as she talks. “You care about my love life? I find that hard to believe.”

She lets out a quiet chuckle and shakes her head. “Not yours. Hers.”

“Why?”

“We were friends once upon a time, believe it or not. I’d like to think that’s still true even if everyone thinks I’m a bitch.”

“Aren’t you?”

She smirks. “I’m not disagreeing with you, but you should think hard about go after her.”

He pushes himself off the stool and rushes out the door, searching for you. He turns the corner at the sound of someone struggling and finds you in a fight with a hunter.

He rushes closer and pulls the guy off you, snapping his neck. He sighs before rushing to you. “Are you okay?” Damon cups your cheeks, checking you over, wanting to make sure you’re okay.

Your face scrunches in pain as the small piece of wood travels closer and closer to your heart. “No.”

“What is it?”

“It,” your head bounces against the brick wall. You lose your breath. “A piece of his stake is moving and I-” You don’t think you can describe it anymore, the pain becoming more and more unbearable. He nods, hands stopping on your shoulders.

“Okay, okay. Where is it right now?”

You clench your jaw, shaking your head.

“Hey, hey.” He places his hands on your back your cheeks, forcing you to focus on something other than your pain. “I know it hurts, I know it does but I need you to focus on this and tell me where it is so I can help.”

You take a deep breath, “just- it’s close to my heart. I need you to get it.”

“I know, I am but I need you to do something for me.”

“What?” You groan.

“Don’t scream.”

You open your mouth to ask why but he covers it as his other hand slowly inches into your chest.

It takes him a few tries but eventually he gets it. “It’s out. It’s out, I got it.” He tosses it to the side, checking you over once more. “Are you okay?”

“Better now that I’m not on the verge of dying, for real this time.”

“We’re joking now?”

“Oh, so you can almost die like a million times and be sarcastic, but I can’t this one time.”

“I’m not- I don’t do that.” You scoff, attempting to take a step forward, only to almost fall.

“Hey, hey. Woah, woah.” He catches you, adjusting his hold on you so his arm is around your waist to keep you upright. “Did you drink anything today?”

You don’t respond.

“I told you if you ever run out, all you need to do is call me and I’ll be there.”

“I’m fine.”

“If collapsing from lack of blood is fine, then you’re it.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, geez.”

He bites his wrist and offers it to you.

You push him away. “No.”

“It’s better than you pass out, just- work with me.”

“Damon, I’m not drinking your blood. That’s a sacred thing. I can’t.”

“That’s blood sharing and it’s fine. If I had anything in my car, I’d offer it, but I don’t.” He sighs, “please just-”

“Fine, it’ll make you happy.”

He smirks before biting his wrist, inching it closer to you.

You gently grab it and sink your fangs into his wrist.

He closes his eyes until the pain settles and returns his attention to you.

Once you feel better, you shove his wrist away before the temptation becomes stronger. “Thanks,” you wipe your chin using the back of your hand.

“Don’t let this happen again.”

You roll your eyes and start walking away. “Okay.”

He follows after you and wraps his arm around your waist, leading you to the car.

"Is this a blood bag?"

"Nope, don't know what that is."

"Damon!"

Taglist

@casa-boiardi @kmc1989

#vampire diaries #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries imagines #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaires fanfiction #the vampire diaries fanfic #damon salvatore imagine #damon salvatore imagines #damon salvatore #damon salvatore fanfiction #damon salvatore fanfic #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore x you #damon salvatore x vampire reader #damon salvatore x vampire!reader #crazyk-imagine

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id-rather-be-an-outsider · 4 months

Text

Possessive

Gojo Satoru x AFAB!Reader

summary: y/n (a non-sorcerer) tries to get away from Gojo, her controlling partner, but he only pulls her closer. no plot just smutty smut smut but I heard plotless is a pro and con in this context ;)

word count: 1,726

a/n: WOW it took me way too long to post this, but Happy New Year, all! if you want to be on my JJK or my Gojo taglist let me know!

tw: she/her reader, controlling behavior (this is toxic and is abuse IRL! this is only hot bc it’s imaginary), unprotected sex. creampie, fingering, p in v sex, oral f receiving, dubcon

masterlist

“Because I’m unhappy, Satoru! You never listen to me, and every time I’m angry you just throw money at me like that solves the problem! I deserve a real relationship, not one where I feel like I’m always talking to a brick wall and can never really make my own choices!” He’s quiet, that stupid smirk still on his face. Ugh. “I’m leaving.” I turn around to grab my keys, in a decorative bowl right behind me, and he’s there.

One of his long, coaxing hands slips around my neck, tilting my head back, and the other one snakes around my waist, pulling my body into his. His breathing in my ear sends a shiver all the way down my spine. “I’m sorry, baby. I never meant to make you feel unhappy.”

I try to pull away, reaching for my keys again. “It doesn’t matter, I’m done. Just let me go.” Instead of listening, he quickly grabs my arm, pinning it to my chest with his first hand, and reaching out to touch my keys. The second his finger makes contact with them, they disintegrate, and my stomach drops.

“You won’t need those. I promise, after tonight—“ He starts kissing my neck, sucking on my sensitive spot and leaving a hickey, causing me to gasp. “—You won’t ever want to leave again.“

“Gojo, st—“ He cuts me off by turning my head around to kiss me on the lips, reaching under my skirt to rub on my clitoris through my underwear. I break the kiss, trying to push him away. “Gojo— ngh!” I moan in surprise when I feel his fingers slide under my panties and dip into my folds, the sudden pleasure making me forget my exact situation. Gojo removes his blindfold, and I realize my mistake— I should’ve known he would do this.

Domain expansion. Before I know it, I’m being gripped by several of Gojo’s hands, his fractals of digits ripping my clothes to shreds within a mere second. Some arms are holding my arms down, some are holding my legs open, others are massaging my breasts, others are twisting my nipples, and a pair are squeezing my neck, the pressure slightly decreasing air flow and making me feel lightheaded. Gojo comes into view, towering above me. He removes his clothes and says, “If I wanted to make it easier, I would just let more hands do it, but I want you to know who’s making you feel this good.” He drops down to his knees, leaning over me. “Something I don’t tell other people about my abilities, specifically about the Unlimited Void, is that I can control what kinds of stimuli someone receives — I’m not limited to just everything or nothing.”

My eyes flutter, struggling against the hands at my throat — I’m not being suffocated, I just don’t feel in control of my body. He smiles cunningly, sliding his hand down my torso. None of the other hands have stopped their prodding and preening, and he can see my eyes reacting to the arousing behavior. He captures my lips in his, slithering his tongue into my mouth, and inserting a finger into my gummy walls. “Oh!” My exclamation is swallowed by his devouring mouth, and my back arches as he starts to pump his long finger in and out, curling it into my g-spot.

He seamlessly transitions into adding a second finger, and then a third, each eliciting louder moans from me. His palm is rubbing against my sensitive nub, and I feel the extra pressure with every pump of his hand. It feels so good. It feels so good. It feels so good! I moan, all the twisting and tweaking of my body coupled with his fingers filling me up brings me closer, closer, and closer to the edge, his hand slamming into me until—

I let out a sob when he pulls his hand out, licking all of my juice from his fingers as he stares into my eyes. My hole is clenching around the air, my cum drooling out. “You’re making a mess, sweetheart. Let me clean that up for you.” He grabs his member, giving it a few strong pumps, then uses his tip to wipe up my liquids, rubbing it against my slit. He presses his tip into my hole, waiting for the clenching to stop— “You can’t start too early, or you’ll be all worn out.” —Before finally pushing all the way in.

“Satoru!!!” I cry out, my walls squeezing around him when I feel his full length. “Baby, please!” But he won’t play nice. He moves in and out of me at an even pace, and every time I start spasming around him, he slows down to an almost painful pace, waiting for it to stop before gradually speeding back up again. I’m mewling, begging for him to give me my release, even trying to hump up into him, but he only pulls himself out of me, not letting me get to my orgasm.

He pauses, seemingly thinking to himself. “I wonder how close I can get you with my mouth?” He slides down to my pussy, nestling his face between my thighs. I can feel his breathing on me because of how close he is. His tongue darts in, drawing a circle around my rim before sliding in, poking and prodding in me as I struggle to rub my lips on his face. I find an angle that works, where my thrashing makes the tip of his nose rub on my clit. I can feel myself getting closer to my high, and I close my eyes, embracing all the different sensations I’m experiencing all at once, but my body betrays me when it starts shaking. Gojo laughs into my lips, the vibration almost pushing me over the edge, and he pulls his face away. “Did you think I didn’t know what you were doing? Silly girl.” I whine, trying to shake my lower half, but he’s nowhere near me, it seems. More hands grab my hips, holding me so I’m completely immobile. He tsks. “When I told you only I can ever make you cum, that included yourself and any scheming tricks you thought you could pull.”

I can’t see him because my head’s being pulled back, but I can feel him when his lips wrap around my bud and his tongue starts swirling around it. He sucks as he works, and I moan again, thinking that I’ll come undone for sure, it feels so good, if only he’d let me finish! He lets go with a loud pop of his lips, coming up to kiss me, my sheen coating his velvety petals like morning dew on a rose. I taste sweet and bitter in my own mouth, but I don’t have time to savor it as he fills me to the brim, and starts thrusting away. “Ah! Satoru, I’m close! Please tell me I can cum!” I beg him, my voice wavering from the overstimulation of my whole body, all my points of pleasure telling me I can never leave this man. He’s right. No one else will ever tear me apart in as sensual of a way as he does.

He hums, laughing as he pleasures himself inside of me, burying himself to the hilt, pulling far enough out that his tip becomes visible, then quickly burrowing all the way back in, over and over again. “Okay.” He picks up his pace, and the dam breaks — everything that had built up pours out, my orgasm flooding out each time he pushes himself into me, and my head’s spinning as I’m stuck bawling from how good it feels. My entire body is rigid and shaking, and Gojo’s still going, the other hands going crazy, all madly fondling every part of my body.

Tears sneak out of my ducts, and Gojo licks them up, smiling like the devil while his eyes bore into mine as he nears his own release. My pussy is still fluttering around his cock, and I haven’t stopped babbling about it being too much, too much, when I feel my reservoir filling up again. “Sa-to-ru-oh!” I manage, though I’m not sure what I’m even trying to say.

“Say you’ll stay,” He commands in a deep, smooth voice, and I melt beneath his piercing blue eyes, the sweat glistening on his skin, which feels sticky as his hips collide with mine, his balls slapping against my second hole, the fractal hands all reaching for the most sensitive spots and caressing them in just the right way.

“I’ll— I’ll stay!” I respond, incapable of thinking about what he’s asking of me, and his thrusts turn from measured to erratic. I feel his hips begin to stutter, the other hands all becoming even more aggressive if even possible, and the final push that takes me over the edge is feeling his length pumping out his seed inside me, making everything squeeze just a bit tighter. My rubber band snaps, and the other hands all disappear as my body spasms out of control, my back completely arched as my hips move to meet his of their own accord, his own continuing to pound into me until he has nothing else, and he stills, rubbing his hands up my naked body until he cups my face with both of them, kissing my lips, then looking at me with a hunger yet to be satiated reflecting from his eyes.

When my body finally calms, I eventually notice that we’re still in the living room. He scoops me up, and while he holds me I realize that he’s already hard again. “We’re not done yet, I hope you know. Remember now, my love, you said you would stay.” He takes me to our bedroom and sets me down in the middle of the bed, flipping me over so I’m on my hands and knees, and slapping my ass. “If you ever try to leave again I’ll give you so much pleasure that you’ll pray for me to stop it, and I won’t, because this is mine. You’re mine. Do you understand?” I nod my head weakly as I wobble on all fours, and gasp when he yanks my head back by my hair. “Oh, y/n, you’re my good girl.” He rams himself into me from behind.

taglist: @ekaterinatepes

#outsider writes #fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #tw!controlling #tw!dubcon

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goosetheluce · 9 months

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It's Been a While (Gwen Stacy x Fem!Reader)

requested by anon: "can I req one where it's like a little reunion after atsv? Like before she goes and sees her dad she goes and sees reader bc she's been missing for months and Gwen's probably worried at first but readers just too happy to see her again.maybe a little friends to lovers, thank youuuuu☺️☺️☺️"

info: decently angsty, physical affection (kissing, hugging, hand holding), crying, flashbacks, desperate!gwen, gwen 3rd person pov, cussing, use of y/n

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Gwen's entire body was crawling with nerves as she flung out her webs. She surged through her home city with poise and elegance. Her anxiety was shielded on the outside; Spider-Woman always had to be collected, breezy, perfect. Even now. Especially now, considering the news cameras and helicopters pointed at her. She could only imagine the headlines being displayed all across New York:

Vigilante "Spider-Woman" Makes An Appearance After Months

Masked Hero Re-Appears

Ghost-Spider Visits During Violent Era Beginning Without Her

She groaned in frustration, doing her best to outrun the nightcrawlers and news stations. Her father was probably getting his force ready to incarcerate her that very moment. A chill spread across her skin, and it wasn't the frigid rain.

She swung into an alleyway, ripping her mask off to catch her breath. Her time before Miles was put in real danger was ticking away, and this game of cat and mouse certainly wasn't helping. She sighed and sunk down the brick wall in exhaustion. Gwen needed to figure something out before she was cornered in the labyrinth that was New York City.

She listened to the cars screeching in the distance, listened to the bar fights, the laughter of a group of teenage girls past their curfews. It was by no means a city of sunshine, but she desperately missed her life.

Desperately missed you.

Gwen pulled her hood over her head as far as possible, ignoring the sting filling her eyes. She sighed shakily, breath condensing in the autumn thunder.

She needed to see you. Besides, it's not like she had much of a choice.

God, why did I have to make my suit bright fucking white? Maybe then these idiots would leave me alone.

Even now she heard the choppers pulsing in the sky. She wondered with a shudder how many were police force. Gotta get out of this suit.

She slipped her mask back on and set off. See, Gwen would never commit a crime with malicious intent. Hell, she was Spider-Woman, but she couldn't see any other way blend into the city without the chance of bumping into her dad at the apartment.

So she robbed a clothing store.

As gently as possible, but unfortunately that still meant damage. Gwen huffed. Had it really come down to this?

She pulled her arm back, flinching away from the window as she shattered it with a simple punch, even whispered "sorry" as if that changed anything. The shards clinked against the sleek-tiled floor of the Nike shop and she hopped inside with ease.

Don't have much time, she noted. The alert system wailed deafeningly as she shot webs at every security camera and stole the footage for that night. She raced through the store, grabbing a pair of black sweatpants and a navy blue winter compression shirt. She changed right there in the store with the cameras blinded. She swiped a drawstring bag and stuffed her suit and mask inside. She kneeled down to lace up her converse tightly. She still had a long way to go to your flat.

Gripping the strings of her bag tightly, she raced away. The rain had stopped, but the storm still threatened deep rumbles of thunder a couple of miles away. Her swift footsteps splashed through grimey puddles lit by orange streetlamps. The city seemed more perilous than ever as sirens screamed and guns fired, and guilt struck her chest.

Internally thanking her enhanced speed and endurance, Gwen stared up at your window not even ten minutes after she fled the store. Now came the hardest part: facing you, her closest friend, after she joined the society. Truthfully, she missed the warmth gifted to her from your loving arms. Something her dad never gave her before she left.

She paced around the block over and over again, wondering what the hell she was supposed to say to you. "Hey, I'm back after months of radio silence, and don't mind that I just crawled up your wall because it turns out I've been a human-spider freak this whole time. Missed you too."

Suddenly, it didn't matter what Gwen wanted to say anymore, because a police car was turning the corner.

"Fuck!"

She dashed up the wall and onto the roof, crouching to avoid any nearby helicopters. She released her breath in relief. She shook out her body and rubbed her temples. This was it. She began to crawl down the face of the complex, hoping she'd remember the right window.

Perk number 42 of being bitten by a radioactive spider.

She peered inside the window of your bedroom. It was convenient for her in the moment, but Gwen made a note to scold you for leaving your blinds open. She reached her hand out, hesitated, then curled it into a fist and gently tapped. She squeezed her eyes shut.

She saw you look up from your school laptop in confusion.

It's one in the morning and this woman is really doing homework.

Gwen tapped again.

"Y/N!" she called out softly. "Y/N, let me in!"

She heard a muffled "what the fuck?" through the glass.

"Gwen?" you whisper screamed in disbelief, unlocking your window and pulling it open. Your jaw went slack as Gwen simply jumped off the wall while diving into your window.

"Y/N, before you say anything, let me explain," she frantically rambled. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Please." Her eyes opened slowly to see you. Her body went rigid.

Fuck, she's crying.

Tears were welling and threatening to spill out from your eyes. Your fists were clenched so tightly that your nails left crescent moons gouged into your palms.

"What the hell was that?" you laughed breathily before rushing forward to hug her. You practically constricted her as you wrapped your arms around her waist. She had no idea what to do for a moment. Her own emotions were about to overflow and wash her composure away. Gwen settled for squishing her cheek against yours while holding you tight. As she rubbed your back, your sobs quieted.

You pulled away, wiping the wetness away from your eyes and lips. Gwen's stare lingered as your thumb grazed over your bottom lip out of habit. You stood up a little bit taller.

"It's been a while, Gwen."

Her stance jerked a little, barely even noticeable.

"I know. I've got a lot to explain to you, if you're willing to listen." You nodded firmly, turning around to sit back down on your bed. You patted the space adjacent to you.

Gwen took seat, spreading her legs out comfortably and resting her forearms on her knees. Her posture was slanted; it was still hard for her to make eye contact with you. She didn't want to find anger or disappointment in those eyes she had stared into one too many times. Eyes that haunted her in the most tragically beautiful manner possible.

"I disappeared," Gwen began hesitantly. "But not without a reason. So much has happened in the last two years, I just...I guess it all came to one single point and that was it for me. I had no chances left, no risks to take. It was over."

Her explanation was raw, quivering and vulnerable. Your heart began to race, wondering what she'd say next. You had no idea what was going on; yeah, Gwen did ballet and gymnastics or whatever, but that little trick she did to get into your window was no joke.

She jumped up from the bed and turned to face you.

I have to do this now.

"This is the craziest part, but you have to believe me," she whispered. Fear coated her rocky voice and widened her eyes. You blinked at her in reassurance, smiling a bit.

"Gwen, just tell me. You know I'll listen."

She sighed heavily and grabbed her bag off the floor. "Okay. Give me a second. And don't make any noise when I come out." She slipped into your closet and shut the door silently behind her. The light flickered on and leaked out from underneath the doorframe. You watched her shadow move fluidly.

Inside the closet, Gwen was hyperventilating as she fit herself into her suit. She looked into the body-length mirror sitting on your floor, and a tear traced down her cheek. She was staring at her worst enemy, and she despised who she saw in the suit. Spider-Woman was a different entity.

She turned around and faced the closet door. Gwen placed her hand on the knob, taking a deep breath before turning it and pushing it open. She couldn't look at you, but when she tried, you weren't there. Her blood froze in her own veins.

Gwen was back in that collapsed building, that very same night, staring her father's gun down.

"Why the fuck am I here?" she questioned, panic filling her voice. She looked around, desperately trying to find your apartment, your face. Her movements suddenly were not her own anymore as she involuntarily turned to face her father. Her hands were lifted up above her head, but they sank down. One inched toward her mask.

No.

Her body didn't listen. Her fingers met her chin, grasping the enhanced material concealing her face from the world.

No!

She felt the cool air hit her lips, then her nose, and finally her weary eyes. She watched her father's face contort into horror and disbelief. Gwen finally found the ability to force her eyes to shut, tears spilling out. When she opened them again, she was back in your closet.

"Gwen? What's taking so long?" you called out quietly from your room.

She gasped for air, clutching her chest as she spasmed in silence. She aggressively rubbed her arm over her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying.

I have to do this. What happened before doesn't matter. I have to save things with her.

Once more, Gwen turned the handle and stepped out. She was relieved to find you sitting on your bed, staring at her.

"Uh, nice costume Gwen, but I was kinda hoping for you to finish your explanation?" you sarcastically jabbed.

"Y/N..." Gwen groaned. "It's not a costume."

You scoffed, becoming impatient.

"Really! It isn't, Y/N!" Gwen frantically begged with you to understand. You crossed your arms.

"How am I supposed to believe you're Spider-Woman?"

Gwen shoved her face into her hands. Her frustration boiled.

"You're gonna believe me after this," she nearly growled, flitting forward and taking you in her arms. She slapped a hand over your mouth to quiet your protest. She pulled her mask down and shot a web out of your window, slingshotting out of your room and into the night.

You were a mile away from your apartment in a matter of seconds while Gwen (Spider-Woman...?) held you firmly in her left arm, tossing you lightly in the air before you landed on her back. She guided your arms and legs to wrap tightly around her back as you let out a shriek. Your hair flew straight behind you in the cold wind.

"Gwen, I fucking believe you now," you choked out into her ear. You could barely speak in your terror. The eyes of her suit went wide and she aimed for the top of another building.

She landed perfectly en pointe, her converse flexing to match the arch of her technique.

"Shit, Y/N, I'm so sorry-"

Gwen's apology was cut short as you gripped her broad shoulders.

"You're motherfucking Spider-Woman!" you yelled in awe. A thick sheet of rain was nearing as Gwen's eyes welled behind the mask.

"You don't think I'm a bad person? Or...or a freak?" she whispered shakily. Your face softened. You slid your hands up from her shoulders, caressing her face. Her eyes squinted before closing as she leaned into your touch. She reached her own hand up and cupped yours. Gwen's soul lit afire as she stared at your gorgeous face, felt the warmth of your love and bare skin.

You simply shook your head.

"What a dumb question. You're my best friend. And when you left, I...I mean, I guess I just didn't know what to do with myself. I lost a part of me."

The words coming out of your mouth felt wrong. Gwen's heart screamed in desolation. Maybe you would never understand.

Best friend.

"You lost a part of yourself, but I couldn't breathe without you," she murmured, bringing her other hand up to find more ways to touch you.

Your heart began to pound as her fingers laced with yours. The rain began to fall over you, drenching Gwen for the second time that night. What did she mean by that? You could have sworn you felt her rapid pulse intensify even more as you experimentally pressed your forehead against hers.

"Gwen..."

You brought your hands (still cupping her face) down to the base of her mask, forcing her own hands to fall away. You traced circles into her skin before gently sliding the disguise up above her lips.

Gwen painfully rasped your name while her digits found your skin again, this time resting timidly on the small of your back. She needed this so badly from you all these years, even more so as your face became a tale, something she could only dream of.

"Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. Please, please, please, just kiss me and never let me leave your side again, I'd do anything for you, Y/N-" she began to sob, but you caught her trembling lips in yours. Gwen immediately pulled you deeper into her hold, your bodies fitting together like a beautiful puzzle. Her fingers tangled into your hair and she pulled her mask all the way off. Her hood fell and her blonde waves began to frizz and tighten with the rain.

She savored the taste of your lip balm and the remnants of your bedtime herbal tea, picking you up and allowing you to wrap your legs around her. You pulled away, breathless and eyes filled with the starlight that the stormy midnight lacked.

"I love you, Gwen," you breathed. "But you're back for a reason. I don't know what reason that is, but you have to do it. We're counting on you."

Gwen nodded, dropping you safely and kneeling down to fit her mask back over her face and to allow you to cling to her.

"You forgot something, Ghost-Spider," you teased, sliding her hood over her head.

She scoffed, looking back at you with narrowed eyes. "That's Gwen to you."

In no time, you were delivered back to your warm bed. The rain pattered soothingly against your window while Gwen dried her suit off with a towel you lent to her. She eventually settled for just laying the towel down on your bed and sitting on it.

"So...are you my superhero girlfriend now, or am I about to wake up from the most story-oriented dream of my life?"

Gwen laughed softly. Everything in her life was fucked, but you brought a glow back to her existence. She had something to look forward to now. She pushed her hand to lock with yours.

"For the record, if this is a dream, then you and I are definitely imaginary girlfriends. But, since this is hopefully real life..." she assured, squeezing your hand. "Yeah, I'm your superhero girlfriend." You began to fluster, heat creeping across your cheeks.

Gwen stood up, still holding your smaller hand in her stronger grasp.

"Which unfortunately also means I've gotta do superhero girlfriend stuff," she sighed, brushing her hair behind her heavily pierced ear. She looked at you apologetically as your grip on her tightened.

"Hey, we'll see each other again. I promise," she whispered, pressing a sugary kiss to your lips before backing away, her fingers slipping out of your reach. She pulled her mask down swiftly before turning around and leaping out of your window.

"I love you!" you shouted after her. Gwen beamed as she jumped through the city, posing in a recital-like fashion for the cameras when she lowered to the streets.

The rain didn't feel so cold anymore.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

a/n: thanks for reading!! if you're sapphic and in love with gwen then. definitely check my other gwen fics out hehe. been thinkingggg about a villain gwen x fem!reader au? let me know by sending smth to my inbox as a request or commenting !

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cursed-man-prayers · 2 years

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Before folklore came out, I would tell people that liking Taylor Swift was the straightest thing about me. Then folklore, evermore, and Red TV came out. As I saw the queer themes in those albums, I began seeing them in reputation, 1989, Speak Now, Fearless, and debut. The themes have always been there, fluctuating in subtlety but steadily increasing since 1989. So why did I think of Taylor Swift as so quintessentially straight? You guessed it: Compulsory heterosexuality and heteronormativity.

Taylor was supposed to be universally relatable. When she explained her songs, she refrained from using gender-specific language. Us. We. That person. Someone. And people that as “Me. I. A man. That guy I told everyone I was dating.” We were told she dated men, and a woman dating a man = heterosexual. No other options.

Even now, Genius will remove lyric annotations that imply her lyrics might not be about a man. Even with Hits Different, Question…? and Maroon. Taylor says reputation is about Joe and swifties believe her bc “Taylor wouldn’t lie to us!!!” even though there’s so many inconsistencies with the narrative that Rep is about Joe.

To say outright or even imply that Taylor might write songs about women because she likes women is met with scores of comments about how we “shouldn’t speculate on her sexuality!!! she said she’s straight!!! stop being disrespectful!!!!” But Taylor, as she has never said the words “I’m gay” has never said the words “I’m straight.” What she has done is align herself with. LGBTQ artists (YNTCD music video, Phoebe feat., posting support for queer musicians on social media, and, of course, the Pride parade that is her list of openers for the Eras Tour).

If Taylor didn’t people thinking she’s queer, she would’ve thrown in “as a straight woman…” in her speech before performing Delicate at multiple Pride events, when being interviewed about her advocacy during the Lover era, or at literally any point in her adult life.

Writing about women from the male perspective is queer. Her dressing in drag for the Man music video and showing herself in bed with a woman is inherently queer. The way she writes songs about her love interests’ girlfriends is queer. People bend over backwards to justify the gay shit she does, the same thing people have done for centuries with Sappho, Emily Dickinson, Louisa May Alcott, and so many sapphic artists throughout history. Taylor Swift is THE songwriter of our generation. She IS the music industry. But swifties, and hetlors all the more, would rather believe she is stupid and ignorant rather than intentionally using phrases like “hairpin drop,” “lavender haze,” “all the bricks they threw at me,” “you’re the West Village.” When she describes her muses as having scarlet lips, having hair that falls into place like dominos and braids in a pattern, gorgeous, it’s just because she thinks men are really pretty I guess (insert MetGala 2016 Joe photo). When she describes men as toys, playthings, “dudes who give nothing,” she’s being satirical. When she says “weird rumors,” that can’t possibly refer to rumors about marriage, pregnancy, or her having had multiple children during the pandemic. It’s *weird* to say that Taylor is queer. It’s weird and bad and gross. Why? Because people saying this believe being queer is weird, bad, and gross.

But it’s not weird. Being queer is beautiful, a gift. And that gift comes with a world that hates who we are. Of course Taylor is too soft for all it. And I admire her softness, that she continues to write vulnerable music. Midnights (esp 3am Edition and Hits Different) holds her loudest lyrics. She’s never beating the rumors and she doesn’t want to. Even if she never says the words “I’m gay/bi/pan/a lesbian,” the eardrum-shattering volume of her lyrics is more than enough for me.

#gaylor swift #gaylor #taylor swift lyric analysis #queer #question…?#maroon #hits different #i swear you could hear a hairpin drop #midnights

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maneskinwh0re · 2 months

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injection stable ~ maria o'hara x fem reader

one shot, nsfw, 18+

cw: dom!maria, fem!miguel, maria o’hara x reader, vampire!maria, mention of drug usage, biting, little blood

wc: 1.4k not full smut, just a spicy lead up bc i like edging you freaks.

inspo from a wattpad story i read of miguel x peter b parker

"haunted" by beyoncé while you read >:)

cred to og artists - i got these pics from pinterests, not my own !

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location: nueva york, earth-928

it had been almost two weeks since maria stopped taking rapture. every day her relapse had been worse than the last. rapture was a drug maria had taken involuntarily to limit the more dangerous traits of her spider-like behaviors and powers, and she had been addicted to it ever since. she has tried stopping many times, but her relapses became so destructive and severe that she just couldn’t survive without it. you had to pick the lesser of two evils and just remove it from her entirely.

she needed help and extra care during this time, which is the reason you, jessica drew, and peter parker have deemed it necessary to check on her multiple times a day as recruits at headquarters.

“maria?” your voice echoes as you enter her dark office-like room.

no reply.

you sigh before swinging up to her pedestal, seeing her standing over her desk, her face focused on a blinking notification on the holographic screens. her gloved hands were tense on either side of the main keyboard.

“maria?” you repeat softly, taking a cautious step forward and crossing your arms. “what are you doing, spider?”

the nickname you have for her slips out in hopes that it lightens the tension in the air.

it doesn’t. you run a hand through your hair and sigh. “spider?”

her head snaps to the side quickly, allowing you to see her side profile. it’s difficult to tell in the dim lighting, but her wide eyes almost seem bloodshot. you study the sight of her. her holographic red and blue spider suit is snagged and glitchy while her dark hair is tangled yet loosely curled. the bridge of her nose is scrunched and her teeth are barred – that’s when you notice something you've never seen before, it’s almost like she has… fangs?

'hell. no way,' you think to yourself. 'again–it's probably just the lighting. she’s a spiderwoman, not a vampire.'

“maria, do you wanna try going to bed? i could get you something to eat,” you offer, still cautious of her mannerisms. her breathing seems ragged yet slow, but you can tell she needs something in her system. at least, something other than the empanadas from the cafeteria. “hm? how does that sound?”

she only stares at you with that narrow look in her eye that is honestly unnerving, but it drives something inside you crazy. 'it’s only maria,' you tell yourself, 'nothing to be scared of.'

“go home, y/n” she snaps, her voice laced with that smooth, spanish accent. you can see her back muscles tensing through her spider suit as she breathes.

you need more than a few words of attitude to check off if she’s going to be okay. not that you care, it’s more for protocol. no one besides you, jessica, and peter know that maria is off her rapture. it was a 2/3rds vote that one else in the spider society should know that their boss is secretly going through major withdrawal. you thought it would be better for her to take some time off and get some rest, or at least tell the others so her workload can be lightened or something.

again. not that you care.

“spider, i can’t leave without a proper check in. you know this,” you retort with a huff. you don’t understand why this is so easy for peter and jessica. every time you're alone with maria, which isn’t too often, it’s like talking to a damn brick wall. the possibility crosses your mind that she could still hold a grudge towards you for being a so-called 'anomaly' or whatever. that's how you met about four months ago. she's been cold to you ever since.

“so?” you eventually ask. “are you gonna make this easy for me?”

“no.” her tone is growing more agitated, and her brown eyes are still on you as her breaths quicken.

“and why not?” you raise a brow, starting to grow annoyed.

“because you haven’t made this easy for me,” she grits out, her hands balling into fists against the surface of her desk.

'cool. so she has officially lost it,' you think to yourself.

you notice her shift an object in one of her shaky hands until you recognize it to be a half-used rapture needle locked in her tight grip.

'god, damnit.'

“alright, come on,” you sigh, walking towards her.

“y/n,” maria warns. you sense tension in the air rising, but decide to push your luck.

“look, o'hara. i’m no therapist, and i can’t promise i’ll pay attention either, but it could help to just talk about it.” you stretch a hand out to touch her shoulder. “for all i know, your powers or abilities could-”

she turns abruptly and grabs the fabric of your f/c spider suit, letting the needle fall to the floor. the sound of crashing glass rings in your ears. green fluid oozes onto the floor by your feet, and all of a sudden your heightened spider senses are alarming in emergency-like flashes. your mind is racing as your breaths pick up speed in a panic.

you look back up to her towering figure that held your body close. you quickly lift your hands up in a surrendering motion, showing her you mean no harm.

“what are you– i don’t wanna figh–”

your defenses are cut off by the motion of her teeth sinking into your neck. you tense at the feeling as she inhales deeply against your skin.

it was not the lighting earlier. she definitely has fangs.

you feel a hot liquid, of what you can assume is your own blood, dripping down the nape of your neck, and you freeze as she drinks it in. maria is seemingly oblivious that one of her large hands is tangling itself in your h/c hair. you feel her fingers pull on it with intention to tilt your head back, and you allow her to, giving her mouth further access.

your eyes start to roll to the back of your skull as you let yourself almost enjoy her touch. as soon as you start to relax, her mouth pulls away while her tongue laps away any excess bleeding. a soft moan involuntarily escapes your lips from the sensitivity of it all, followed by her name in a breathy, sensual haze.

any control you have left is gone. and you think you're okay with that.

maria’s eyes open to observe the wound she left on your neck. her breaths are warm as her mouth hovers over your skin. she motions as if she’s going in for a second bite, until she pauses, and then pulls away completely. a gloved thumb runs across her bloody lips before her hands grip your waist. she simply pushes you away, creating space between you both as if nothing happened. your expression portrays speechlessness—eyes wide and lips parted slightly. maria’s hands linger on your hips while she avoids eye contact, her focus trailing up and down your frozen body.

a moment passes. you lick your lips and take a breath to speak, but her words cut you off.

“leave now, mi querida.”

she then drops her hands and turns around to lean on her desk. a hand runs through her hair to fix her appearance, and you can only stand still while your eyes level with her back. your body is ridden with shock. a blushful heat creeps its way up your aching neck and face as your mind begins to process what just happened.

you finally regain the consciousness to move, and on your way out, you catch a glimpse of the holographic screen in front of maria, a new notification now reading:

~ injection stable ~

hours pass and you still can’t tell if the darkening marks on your neck are from bruising or her dark lipstick.

or both.

you secretly hope it’s both…

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

anyway lol comment if you want more, maybe i'll write full smut soon, requests are open bc idk what to write !!

-bee xx

#bee #maneskinwh0re #lesbian #wlw #maria ohara #fem miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #across the spiderverse #wlw ns/fw

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bring-forth-your-justice · 1 year

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Can i request an ADA x teen!reader ( platonic ofc ) where reader lives in a very toxic house w an abusive father but all the ADA member start to worrying abt them and think something is wrong bc they always come back with injuries and they finally decide to do something after that reader just broke down and they comfort them

:( i need some comfort so yea if its ok ofc u can skip it have a nice day ♡♡♡

Sorry this took some time anon, thank you for requesting, I wouldn't dare skip it. I hope you’re doing alright, you're never alone know that. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for ya.

TW// mentions of abuse, blood, child neglect

Word count: 2k

Just angst and sad weather. Hope its good for my first BSD fic.

A soft breeze filled with springs essence flowed gently into the quaint office placed atop the red bricked building. It wasn’t much to look at, not really, other than its red exterior taking the eyes attention for a split second, there wasn’t much else to it.

Unless one was aware of its top floored residence. Quite the loud bunch many would complain. Always someone shouting and screaming about tardiness, unsettling comments about severing limbs, and often other occupants would notice a trail of emptied snack bags leading to the office. Simply a place to stay away from.

Now that was what you called home.

The hums of the crowded streets played out in a symphony in front of you, just another side walk to cross and you were home. Home .. If the word stayed on your tongue for too long it might lose it meaning, or worse, become sour in taste.

That top floor, was home. It had only been maybe 8 months since you began working there as an assistant. The Armed Detective Agency, the name really says all there was to it. The work wasnt too difficult, after all, you were a hardworker and you’ve been working your whole life one way or another. The president had made some adjustiments to your workload considering you were still a high school student. Of course you adamantly expressed your capabilities, but underneath it all, you were relieved.

The breeze grazed your face and ruffled your hair, adding more knots into it after you had done so much to ensure it looked perfect, like nothing had happened. You sighed with a hint of ire plaguing not just your voice but your eyes. Perhaps holding your tongue could have granted you another hour or two of sleep. Alas, thinking of such what if’s was something you slowly learned to block out. It was pointless to fantisize of what could be anyhow.

You continued to fix your hair as you walked up the stairs, soon reaching the gates to your heaven with the oh so familiar sign positioned at the door. You hesitated briefly even as the sign urged you to come in just as the Earth welcomed rain. Thoughts began to overwhelm you. Mornings were never easy. You weren’t a sunflower waiting to greet the sun as the sun showers you with blessings and you return its gift with a smile. It was always terrifying. He was terrifying.

No matter what you did, no matter how hard you tried, you would never be enough to satisfy his will. At times, that thought alone shot bolts of desperation throughout your body, like an injured animal finding some way to stop the bleeding. What were you so desperate for? Home. It’s right in front of you, so why can’t you accept it now?

‘I didn’t get enough time to cover some of the bruises, what if they-’

“Ah you made it L/N-chan!”

You shot up slightly at the new sound that entered your bubble. Your gaze turned towards the young boy’s voice, noticing his ragged hair. ‘Always quite slanted, not a single strand the same,’ you mused. “Atsushi you startled me aha..” Although the chuckle may have been a bit strained, you were happy to know your voice wasn’t void of that hint of delight to see him.

“A-ah! Sorry! I guess I’ve been sneaking up on a lot of people lately. The other day it was Lucy, I made her drop her dish in the cafe- I really did apologize but she was very close to throwing me from a bridge aha-” Atsushi had a tendency of causing trouble from simple, and often innocent, actions. It was always amusing to hear about from him, they’ve never failed to crack you out of your reclusive state.

Atsushi’s eyes wandered briefly to a mismatched coloured blotch on your arm, one you tried to conceal under your sleeves. When you took notice of his gaze, you quickly shifted that arm out of view; watching his shy and gentle eyes become disturbed with remorse. That unconcealable wrapping on your leg wasn’t any better to look at you figured, and you were sorry he had to see it. It was only for a moment though. He seemed more at ease once you smiled back at him.

“If she did push you, I’d call Kyoka-chan.” You continued back at where the conversation left off at. At that Atsushi shaked his hands, trying to prevent the fictional scenario. “N-No! Kyoka might end up doing more than dragging me out of the water-” You both laughed at the scenario at the underlying understanding of Kyoka’s protectivness of Atsushi’s well being.

As you both walked into the office together, a scent of candies and coffee lingered in the air and the bustling office welcomed your arrival. Your eyes lingered on Atsushi as he made his way over to his desk to get started on what you could only assume to be another stack of Dazai’s unfinished paperwork. ‘I should go and get him some coffee, he might need it to finish all that.’ Looking at that stack was alone to make you wince and move towards your own desk.

You usually make your rounds to greet everyone, but today was a difficult day and you were more tired than usual. So you figured finishing your work early would be the best way to go about things. As you began, the usual shenanigans continued to buzz around the agency. Naomi chasing Tanizaki begging him to bother himself with her rather than his work, the murmurs of the president and his secretary disgusing financial documents in his office, Ranpo-san’s loud crunches as he muched on what could’ve been his 15th chip bag of the day, and to top it off, Kunikida’s excessive yelling. You may be a hardworker but in this case, you couldn’t hold a handle to Kunikida’s work ethic. He kept everyone on task, or so he tried.

While he was on his daily rant about Dazai’s tardiness to anyone who would listen, you felt a dreadful turmoil brewing in your head.

That buzzing in your head was a little more than unsettling. And just as your hand went to go reach your head, there it was again, that word.

“Home.”

Why was it coming to the forefront of your mind? Why couldn’t that thought be subdued? Why were you so unlucky that the only word that haunted you was the one you cherished just as much?

He. Your father. Just a shadow of what he could’ve- no, should’ve been. A shadow who gained sentience and refuses to let you breathe.

Your ‘home’ was hell personified. Every move you took would inevitably burn your feet. So you took no steps at all. Yet even then the fire raged on and clung to you.

And right now, that fire was engulfing your head.

You could faintly see Dr.Yosano in the distance, making her way to you. You couldn’t quite make out her expression when you dropped to floor and the fire took your eyesight.

~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes sleep was the only solace you could get, so you tried to cherish it whenever you could. This time, there was something different about the black void of unconsciousness. A dull pain.

It lingered and poked you in the void. Slowly voices became more clear, and feeling returned to your hands. Still, those wonderful eyes of yours refused to leave the dark.

A part of you couldn’t deny that you liked it that way, but that poking sensation wouldn’t let you dream.

You never had time for it.

So your eyes opened, breaking through the fire, and into the blinding lights of the ceiling panels.

~~~~~~~~

“You’re awake-!” There a pair of wide yellowish-purple eyes looked back at you, secured with a load of concern.

It was Atsushi, worried about you as always. You wished he’d worry about himself more.

It didn’t quite hit you that you were on Dr. Yosano’s lap or the fact there were tears in your eyes, slowly streaming down your eyes. Not until Kyouka, who sat next to Atsushi wiped them gently.

What happened to you?

Your body must’ve been more aware than your mind as it expressed it’s emotions more freely than how your mouth could vocalize them. Slowly you sat up and noticed exactly what had caused you to lose consciousness.

“What happened… y/n?”

Blood loss.

Dr. Yosano looked at the open wounds on your legs, carefully unwrapping the loosely tied bandages around them. She was inspecting the wound just as she was inspecting your face.

They all were looking at you. Kunikida with a glass of water held firmly in his hand. Kyouka who stayed quietly by Atsushi, looking at your wounds. Yosano who looked slightly unnerved at the blood yet continued to press on; cleaning the wound. Atsushi who looked at you as though he knew and didn’t at the same time. But he wanted to know, oh how he wanted you to tell him.

And suddenly, it was hard.

You were young. You couldn’t hold it back anymore.

The tears poured out and so did the words you held in for so long. You tried to hold it all in, but everyone has their limits. Atsushi held you closely as you cried into his arms. Kyouka followed and joined the hug.

She understood.

You may be older than her but she knew your pain just as well.

Yosano worked on your legs with utmost care and gentleness. She knew better than to ask to heal using her unorthodox methods. She’d rather not do that, even if it took away all the physical pain, it wouldn’t do anything for your mental anguish. So she helped in the ways she could.

Kunikida offered you that glass of water as you talked and cried. He stepped back for a moment, eyes still intently on you as you spoke with your shaky voice and teary eyes. Until he caught the sight of someone hidden in the corner of the agency.

Dazai.

His expression was unreadable as always yet there was a sense of conflict stiring in those lax eyes of his that Kunikida rarely saw. Just as Kunikida noticed him standing there in obscurity, he left through the agency’s doors. Kunikida knew to follow him in case Dazai had finally built a sense of justice and planned to do something rash.

~~~~~~~~

When the tears stopped, you sat there with your ragged yet quiet, breathing. Atsushi never once left your side. Kyouka still sat by you, unmoving. Kenji had returned a little while ago and brought you over some tissues and began reciting stories of his farm life adventures.

Ranpo finally appeared again. His whereabouts were always where his interests lied…. Or where the snacks were. Thus, it wouldn’t surprise you if he had been there the whole time, just hidden away.

With a lollipop still in his mouth, he looked down at you. You couldn’t read his eyes, you barely ever saw them when you think about it. Kenji, continued to talk while your attention shifted to Ranpo. He brought his arm forward, in his hand, a single lollipop. He motioned you to take it.

When it was in your hands, he was already gone back to whatever he was doing, yet you stared at it as though it were gold.

Home…. A place that’s warm.. A place you feel loved..

You were home. You were safe.

And so you smiled, it would be okay.

~~~~~~~~

Weeks had passed since then, your father was arrested on accounts of child abuse and neglect and you were free from his torment. That moment when Kunikida had left that day, he must’ve gone to seek out your father you supposed. Regardless, you were thankful to not just him, but the entire agency.

You were free, and you would be okay.

That ‘home’ meant nothing to you, so with Fukuzawa-san’s permission, you were allowed to move into the agency dorms. Again, nothing you could do would expression your gratefulness towards him.

Although old habits and traumas never die, you were healing. You had people who loved you and cared for you. People who would laugh with you as Kunikida and Dazai fought. People who would eat with you when you couldn’t sleep. And people who watched over you, even if silently.

You weren't alone, and most importantly, you were happy.

#bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #atsushi nakajima x reader #osamu dazai x reader #kyouka izumi #yosano akiko #armed detective agency #angst #bsd fanfic #osamu dazai #kunikida doppo #ranpo

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