#Surely Stephen is going to be needed there too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cupid-styles · 20 days

Note

omg bestieeeee i so need hocker h nd ballerina to talk and smooch !!!!! ngl i’m a sucker for protective and jealous h 🤭🤭🤭🤭 🐱

I feel like ive made you guys wait way too long for this one gvkdfjgkf

a continuation of this blurb! (and sort of this one)

word count: 2.3k (we had a lot of ground to cover)

content warnings: minor mentions of smut, slight angst but all is fixed by the end, not ramadan friendly

main masterlist | hockey h masterlist

talk to me

. . .

Two weeks.

Two weeks of radio silence from Y/N.

Two weeks of over-thinking everything he did that night.

Two weeks of Harry drunk texting her on lonely nights.

please just tell me if you hate me

im so sorry

ill leave you alone if its what you want, I just need to know

Each and every time, Y/N read his messages, eyes scanning over the words, and locked her phone.

The truth is, she doesn't know what she wants from him, if anything. She doesn't know why she felt so attracted to him that night — she was tipsy, not drunk, and in complete control of her actions. She never hooked up with people in public — no messy makeouts, but she certainly never let anyone finger her in the hallway of a bar.

The entire thing was completely unlike her. Maybe that's what scared her the most.

Deep down, she wanted to reply to him, but she didn't even know what to say. She didn't want him to leave her alone — maybe that was selfish, but she liked knowing he was at least a little okay. She'd even been keeping secret tabs on the hockey team. They had won their past two games, but Harry had been thrown out in the most recent one for unsportsmanlike conduct. Apparently, he'd gotten into a fight with one of the players on the other team.

Admittedly, that worried her, but she didn't want to be his babysitter. On top of that, the spring showcase was this weekend, and she'd thrown every last bit of her energy into rehearsing and practicing to make sure her performance would be absolutely flawless.

She didn't have the time — or mental capacity — to worry about Harry right now.

. . .

"You look like an idiot."

Harry rolls his eyes as he adjusts the collar on his button down for the third time. James and his girlfriend Melanie had helped him with ironing it out so it looked presentable enough on his body. Anything he ever did rarely called for slacks and button up shirts, but Melanie advised him to look polished and put-together for tonight.

He wasn't in a place to reject her advice.

The other teammates that James lived with weren't quite as kind. Stephen, a sophomore defenseman who was only on the team for the perks of sleeping with every girl he could get his hands on, wouldn't stop throwing sarcastic comments Harry's way.

"Shut up, Stephen!" Melanie calls from the living room. She marches into James' bedroom as Harry smoothes out a few leftover wrinkles in his slacks, swallowing tightly. "When's the last time you cared about something besides fucking random girls? At least Harry has some direction in his life."

"I'm just saying, the girl's been ignoring him for weeks. She's gonna laugh in his face."

"Leave!" Melanie exclaims, batting him on the shoulder. Stephen lets out a yelp of pain and Harry smirks, despite the anxiety throbbing in his chest. "You're not helping! Get out!"

Reluctantly, Stephen rolls his eyes as he follows Melanie's orders and leaves the room. She sighs and comes up from behind Harry before flashing him a hopeful grin.

"You look great, H. I think this is a really sweet gesture."

He nibbles on his bottom lip as he turns to face her. "Okay, but what if Stephen's dumbass is right? She could call security on me and have me removed."

Melanie gives him a sympathetic look, "Yeah, it's a possibility. But isn't it better to go down fighting?"

He shrugs.

"You said ballet is her everything. It's her entire life. Show her that you're willing to integrate yourself into that."

"Yeah," he breathes out, nodding slowly. "Yeah, you're right."

"I know I am." she grins. "Okay, let's get you over there. Don't forget the flowers you picked up!"

. . .

30 minutes later, Harry can't stop shifting uncomfortably as he sits in an aisle seat in the campus auditorium at Y/N's spring showcase.

The massive bouquet of flowers in his lap keep making his nose run and he feels like he's being suffocated by the buttons on his shirt that go all the way up to his neck. Best of all, according to the show program, Y/N isn't scheduled to go on until the very end. She mentioned to him once that being placed as the finale act is the best and biggest compliment, and he can't fight the bit of pride that thrums in his heart.

For an hour, he sits there, fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt and pinching his bottom lip between his fingers as he waits for Y/N to go on. He sits through mediocre singing showcases and even a violin solo that almost puts him to sleep, if not for the older man clearing his throat next to him. Melanie and James even text him during the intermission to see how it's going, but he doesn't have much to report back.

Finally, the show comes to a close and her name is announced, following by the title of the French piece of music she's dancing to. His heart throbs in his chest — he's so nervous for her, especially knowing she hurt her ankle just a few weeks back. But the second she graces the stage, she's a vision of beauty, strength, and delicacy all at the same time. It's enough to take Harry's breath away.

As he sits there watching her, he doesn't move a muscle. Not for a single jump, spin, or step. He doesn't know anything about ballet — not aside from what Y/N has told him — but in that moment, he realizes that he'd be willing to learn every little thing there is to know if it meant she let him back into her life.

She's gorgeous. She offers a flawless performance and the second she's finished, a look of relief washes over her face as she takes a subdued bow, her pretty eyes widening when she sees all the people — Harry included — standing and applauding her.

For Y/N, the hard part was over. For Harry, it had just begun.

. . .

Y/N is elated to have a moment of silence after her performance.

With the dressing room door shut behind her, she lets out a long, deep breath. The dance she'd been driving herself crazy over for months was finally over.

And yet, for some reason, she feels empty.

She shoves it down as sits, eager to get her pointe shoes off. She's ready to shed her costume and get into sweatpants and head home. She knows the rest of the performers are heading out to a party tonight, but she's exhausted.

She's sorting through the bag of clothes she brought when there's a soft knock at the door. She knows she only has around 20 minutes to get out before the janitorial staff starts cleaning, so she rises with a sigh, unlocking the door and opening it.

"I'll be done soon, I just need to change—"

It's not the janitor, though.

It's Harry. Standing there stiffly in a starchy button down with a huge bouquet of flowers that almost encompass the width of his broad shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" she blurts without thinking.

"I came to watch you perform," he replies gently. His throat bobs as he hands her the flowers. "These are for you."

"You didn't watch me." she snorts with a shake of her head. She hasn't accepted the bouquet yet.

"Yes, I did," he instantly fires back, "What, do you wanna see my ticket for proof? I was in seat F34, next to an old man who kind of smelled like soup, and he kept clearing his throat and it was really annoying but I didn't care because I came to see you, and I'd sit through hours of bullshit to watch you dance."

Harry can't read the blank expression of her face, but he takes it as a step in the right direction when she takes the flowers from him. She blinks as she glances past him and then steps aside, motioning for him to come in.

"I have to get my shit together and leave soon, so... just sit in here."

He nods. He's hesitant to allow himself to relax since he's not sure if he's in the clear yet. She closes the dressing room door behind her and places the bouquet on her vanity.

"I need to change," she says, spinning around to face him. "Close your eyes."

He chuckles until he sees the serious expression on her face. "Wait, really?"

"Yes, really."

"But... I— y'know—"

"Just turn the fuck around, Harry."

He does as he's told, shutting his eyes as he listens to her roll her tights down and step out of her leotard. One day, if she let him, he'd be more than happy to do that for her — not even in a sexual way, but he knows how tiring it can be to take off his own gear after a long game. He thinks it would be nice to be there for her.

"Okay, you're good," she murmurs. She's stuffing her things in her tote bag when he bats his eyes back open.

"Are you meeting up with anyone after this? I'm sure your friends came to see you, but I just wanted to maybe talk and... y'know, clear the air a bit." Harry says, wringing his hands nervously in his lap. Y/N furrows a brow as she analyzes his body language. She doesn't think she's actually seen him look anxious before.

"Um... no," she says with a shake of her head before quickly revising her answer, "No, I mean, I'm not meeting up with anyone and no one came to see me. Except you, I guess."

"Wait, really?"

She sighs as she pauses the process of gathering her things. "Really, Harry."

He swallows tightly. They're silent for a moment as she grabs her jacket and throws it over her shoulders.

"Come over and we'll talk. I borrowed my friend Matt's car for the night but— yeah, you can follow me to my place or whatever. And I can't promise I'll be awake for much longer but I think clearing the air could be... good."

A rush of relief makes its way through Harry's body.

"Okay. Yeah, let's do that."

. . .

"I never said it, but you were flawless tonight."

Y/N laughs breathily as she settles onto her couch, a cup of sleepy time tea in her hand. Harry rejected her offer for one (his response had been, "Y/N, do I look like someone who drinks tea with a sleeping bear on it?") but he'd be lying if he said it didn't at least smell good.

"I fucked up on one of my jetés — I'll get yelled at for it on Monday, but otherwise I'm decently content with the performance."

"Well, you couldn't tell," Harry replies, "Seriously. You were perfect."

Her cheeks warm and she stares down at her tea. Her legs are sprawled out in front of her while Harry sits on the other edge of the couch, giving her plenty of room to stretch out.

"So... clearing the air."

Harry clears his throat and nods, prepared to embark on the speech he'd been practicing in his head for weeks. But then, she speaks.

"I'm sorry for running out on you and ignoring you," she says, keeping her gaze down in her lap. "That wasn't... I'm not the best person. I'm bad at feelings and I use ballet as a crutch. I figure it's the one thing I'm really, exceptionally good at, and that should give me a pass in life but I know that's not true. I can't just go around treating people like shit because I'm... scared."

"What are you scared of?" Harry asks through furrowed brows. "I'm sorry if I stepped out of line that night, I should've been better—"

"You didn't. You were great. You did everything perfectly," she replies with a shake of her head. Her response surprises him, but he tries to hide the shock on his face. "I'm scared because you're you. You're a hotshot hockey player and, besides this showcase, you're the only other thing I've thought about these past few weeks. That's horrifying for me."

"Is this...?" Harry attempts to roll his lips into a thin line, preventing a smirk from bursting onto his face. "Is this a very Y/N way of telling me that you like me?"

She groans, as if it's the worst thing to ever happen to her, and it makes Harry laugh.

"Don't laugh at me!" she exclaims. That only makes Harry cackle even louder as he slowly crawls over to her, taking her warm cup of tea out of her hands and placing it on the coffee table.

"You're cute when you're exasperated." he murmurs. She pouts and his eyes crinkle with a grin as he peels her shaky hands away from her face.

"You're the one exasperating me."

"I know," he replies lowly, licking his lips as his face hovers over hers, "I like it."

"This isn't us agreeing to date, by the way." she quickly tacks on. He issues out a mhm as he leans forward, testing the waters, and pressing a light kiss to her nose. "We need to take it slow. Like, painfully slow. Or else I'll freak out and run away again."

"Whatever you want." he mumbles, kissing her right cheek. "I mean it."

"And you can't just overwhelm me whenever you feel like it."

He laughs and kisses her left cheek, then her forehead.

"Okay. Any other demands?"

He stops pasting kisses to her face then, instead choosing to simply loom his lips over hers. He can feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest and watches as she swallows nervously.

"No," she finally whispers. "Just kiss me."

And so he does.

647 notes · View notes

neverinadream · 7 months

Text

Can't You Feel It Too?

Summary: Mason would do anything to be with you, even get down on his knees and beg for it.

Pairing: Mason Mount x Fem!Reader

Requested: Nope

Song Inspo: Please Don't Go Home Yet - Stephen Sanchez

Warnings: angst, toxic situationship, pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart...), suggestive themes and like a couple of lines that are smut-ish, begging, insecure about love, conflict but with resolution

Notes: so this was originally going to be smut but i didn't feel like it would be appropriate, idk, i'll save some of those themes/topics for another 🤭, i'm not the most confident about this one but only because i haven't written just angst in a long time, i'm mainly a smut writer now. feedback is always appreciated

A sigh left your lips as Mason peered through your bedroom window, a lopsided smile pinching the corners of his mouth. "Open up!" He shouts, but the thick pane of glass between you muffled his voice. He points to the handle, shouting, "open up," one more time. Another sigh passes your lips as you reach for the handle, already feeling the regret you would feel before the sun has a chance to rise. "Hi," he says, his voice now clear to you with the window now open, "aren't you going to let me in?"

"No."

"Come on, love-"

"Mason, it's the middle of the night," you stress, tightening your hand around the handle, readying yourself to pull it shut, "go home!"

"Maybe I should remember that the next time you want to see me in the middle night," he fires back, bitterness bubbling on his tongue as he speaks back to you. He checks over his shoulder when he hears a noise coming from hedges but looks back at you after seeing a cat dart between yours and your neighbour's gardens. "Come on," he tries once more, "let me in."

Your hand remains the handle. "Why should I?"

"Because it's been weeks, y/n," he replies, his voice quieting as the features of his face grow softer. He searches your eyes for a part of you that isn't cold, a part of you that might be happy to see him, but there's nothing there. "I need you."

"You have others."

"But none that are like you."

You bite your bottom lip, gnawing at the soft flesh, and Mason has to stop himself from reaching to stop you. "Not even Jessica?" You drop your hand onto the windowsill, leaning forward to meet him outside your window. "I'm sure she would be thrilled to know you're here at my window and not at hers."

He pinches the bridge of his nose, a harsh sigh of frustration falling off his lips. "How many times do I have to tell you that she came onto me?"

"Then why did you leave with her?"

His lips press together in a thin line. "Who told you that?"

You refuse to answer. There was no need to drag another person into the mess you had been creating these last few months. A one-night stand with a friend of a friend had turned into months of pining for Mason, but months of hooking up when it suited you best.

Falling in love is scary when you're afraid of heights. It's the biggest fall of them all. So you control the situation. Refuse to see him when he wants to see you, deny his calls and stop replying to his messages the second his romantic words start to tug at your heartstrings, only to pick back up from where you left off a week later. And Mason would come running back to you every time.

You would rather hurt him than risk the possibility of love and happiness.

"It's freezing, okay," Mason whines, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets, "and if I stay out here any longer, I think my balls might drop off."

"Then go back to your car-"

"I took an Uber here."

"Go to the front door," you sigh, reaching to pull the window shut.

"Or you just let me climb through your window?" A grin pinches the corners of his mouth. "Come on, it'll be a lot easier."

You raise your eyebrow, eying him suspiciously for any sign of intoxication. "Are you drunk?"

He looks at you, offended by your assumption. "What? No!" You take a few steps back, arms folding across your chest, and watch him successfully manoeuvre his way in through your window. You'd never had someone sneak into your bedroom like this before and you had to ignore the thrill you felt. "Why would you ask me that?"

"Because if you think climbing through my bedroom window at god knows what hour in the morning is easier than just using the front door, then you better be drunk."

"Or," he takes a second to dust his hands down the front of his shorts before finishing, "I just don't want to run the risk of having to deal with your roommate."

You frown. "Niamh wouldn't hurt a fly."

"I wasn't talking about Niamh."

You wanted to say something nice about your other roommate, Lily, to come to her defense, but you couldn't help but agree with him. Lily was incredibly honest about everything and the first time she met Mason, she told him she thought he lacked intelligence and his career was one of little importance. Could you and Lily ever be friends? Probably not. But you and Niamh had a spare room, rent to pay, and your part-time jobs only could cover so much of it.

Being a student was hard.

"Besides," Mason pulls you out of your thoughts, "you're on the ground floor."

"I've watched you play," you snort, rolling your eyes, "I've seen you take a fall to the floor because of a flick."

"That's just for show, innit."

You turn your back to him, the screen of your laptop and bedside lamp still illuminating your otherwise dark room. "I hope you know I only let you in so you had somewhere warm to wait." You walk over to your bed, one hand sinking into the mattress as you reach across to close your laptop; the last of your reading could be finished in the morning. "You're not staying, Mason. I want you gone before Niamh or Lily hear you."

"I'm not going anywhere." His eyes drag down your body as you snap back around to face him. Your legs were bare and your upper half was covered by one of his shirts. "Cute top," he utters, nodding in your direction, "I think I have one just like it, except mine has this little hole on the left sleeve." He stops in front of you, his fingers brushing purposely against your arm as he reaches out to touch the left sleeve, his thumb running against the small hole. "It looks better on you anyway."

He looks down from your eyes to your lips, studying their shape, the curve of your cupid bow, wondering if they were still as soft as they were the last time he kissed you. He dips his head but forces himself not to kiss you, no matter how hungry he is for you. Instead, he just presses his forehead against yours, resting it there, with his eyes closed, and enjoys the close proximity to you.

"Mason-"

"I did sleep with Jessica," he confesses, his breath drifting down your face and neck as he sighs, "but not because I thought she was attractive or anything like that, I wanted to see if I could move on from you."

You take a deep breath and swallow the jealousy that was brewing inside. "And can you?" You peek up at him through your eyelashes to find him gazing back at you. "Can you move on from me?"

He cradles your head in his hands, holding you still as he pulls back to kiss your forehead. "I want to." His thumb brushes against your cheek, memorising its softness. He treated every interaction with you like it was his last one.

"You should try harder."

"You think I haven't tried?" He growled, pulling back to look at you. There's no trying to hide the pain in his eyes. "Every time I think I'm ready to move on, you appear out of nowhere, and I come crawling back to you like some lost love-sick puppy!"

"Would you keep your voice down?" You stress, taking his wrists and pulling his hands down to his sides. You walk over to your door and shut it the rest of the way. "I don't need another bollocking from them two because you showed up here unannounced, might I add, in the middle of the fucking night."

"Unannounced?" He places his hands on his hips, whispering, "oh my," under his breath. "What? Do I have to make a-a fucking appointment to see you or something?" You roll your eyes, unamused by his use of sarcasm. "I haven't seen or heard from you in two weeks! I had no choice but to resort to desperate measures."

You fold your arms defensively across your chest. "I think you need to leave."

Shaking his head, he brings his hands to cradle your face once more as he closes the gap between you. His heart hammers inside his chest, the blood thumping loudly in his ears; this was now or never for him. "Me and you, I know we can make this work," he pleads, finding your eyes in the dim lighting.

"Mason, I can't do this right now," you avoid his eyes, staring at his chin.

"Then when? Tomorrow? Maybe the next day? Or perhaps the day after that?" He tilts your head back, leaving you with no option but to look at him. "Don't you see how much this hurts me?" He closed his eyes, hiding the tears that glossed them, and rested his head against yours. "Why can't you just pick me?" He chokes on the lump in his throat.

You push him away before you can let yourself melt into him. "You wouldn't understand."

"Because you won't give me a chance to understand!"

You lunge forward and clamp your hand over his mouth. "What did I just tell you?" Your eyes flick up to the ceiling and then back down at Mason, whose eyes have never left you. "I won't tell you again."

"And I don't care if they hear me," he hisses, curling his hand around the side of your neck, fingers caressing you, "let me stay, please? We don't- I need you, baby!" He sighs at your lack of reaction. "You need me to beg, is that it?" He brings his face closer to yours, his breath hitting your ear as he whispers, "I know you like it when I beg for it."

"No, I don't," you pull away, disagreeing with him.

"You think I'm dumb, princess?" You're compelled to act dumb and shake your head like you had no idea what he was talking about. "Think I haven't noticed how you need to be in control over every aspect of your life? Including us?" He moves the hand around your neck up onto your jaw, pushing his thumb against your bottom lip, pulling it and watching it fall back into place. "You want me, I know you do," his voice was low and husky, "and I know how to prove it."

He lowers himself to his knees, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs, fingers pressing hard enough into your skin for it to sting. His name comes out in a sigh as he leans in to leave a kiss on each of them, your body tingling like each kiss was a jolt of electricity passing through. You don't want to but you reach out and touch him, a soft gasp melting away the silence as you threaded one hand through his hair. He hums approvingly and leans his face against you, kissing your thighs again.

"Tell me you want this," he leans back, looking up at you in the dark, half of his face illuminated by the lamp, "tell me you've missed feeling my hands on your thighs. Tell me you've been thinking about my tongue on you, kissing you, biting these thighs." You grip his hair tighter, steading yourself as he lifts one leg over his shoulder, and turns to graze his teeth on the inner of your thigh, tongue gliding over the spot to soothe any pain. "Tell me you missed having my hands under your shirt," one hand disappears and Mason groans as he moulds his hand around your breast, "grabbing these perfect tits."

You whimper as he rolls your nipple between his finger and thumb, the nub pebbling under his rough touch. "Keep doing that," you arch your back and pull on his hair. You couldn't begin to put into words how much you had missed his touch.

"I will, baby," he nods, placing another kiss on your thigh, "I'll do anything you want- I'll be your good boy, but I need you to say it." He drags his hand away from your chest, leaving it to linger on your belly. He ignores your demand when you tell him to put it back, hissing as you tug on his hair. "Please," he begs, blowing cool air against your panties, exposed to him as he pushes your shirt up. A faint grin tugs on the corners of his lips as he listens to you moan. "Come on, just say it!"

Just say it.

Say it!

"I can see it in your eyes, baby," he whispers, the expression in his eyes softening as they peered up at you, "please, just say it."

Put him out of his misery and just say it!

You stroke your hand down his face, your fingers touching along his jaw, your belly warming as he melts into your touch. He was starved of your touch, ravenous for just about anything. "Please, please, please," you whimper at how he whines for you, the neediness and the desperation so clearly in his voice, "can't you see what we can have together?" Your head was dizzy and his words had your heart thumping wildly in your chest. "Just say it," he encourages with another kiss, "I know you want to."

"Why are you doing this?" You question him, running your thumb over his chin.

"Because I like you and I know you like me too, and maybe you could just admit that to yourself if you just got out of your head!" He lifts and lowers your foot back down onto the carpet, separating the two of you, before rising to his feet with a broken sigh. You melt into his touch as his hand cradles your cheek, your eyes closing to enjoy the softness of his affection - affection that you weren't deserving of. "We could have a good thing, you and me," he says, searching your eyes as they look up at him, "so why are you so afraid to admit that?"

"I'm not afraid."

Yes, you are.

"You are!" Mason growled, a new kind of annoyance forming in his eyes. "I got down on my knees for you, I begged you to say it, I gave you the control you so desperately needed and you still couldn't say it! It's just three words, y/n-"

"But it's not just three words, Mason!" You raise your voice, snapping at him as you talk over him. His hand was long gone from your face, and the warmth his affection provided was now chilled by the coldness of your hardened exterior. "I have been afraid of heights my whole entire life," you mumble, nervously biting at your bottom lip, "and I don't think there's any greater height to fall from than love."

Your explanation was silly and you didn't expect him to understand.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do if there is no one there to catch me if I do fall," you finish, taking a seat on the edge of your bed, letting your head hang so you looked down at the floor and not at the pain on his face, "what would be the purpose of letting my walls break down if there's never anyone there to let in?"

Mason lingers for a moment, the shock of your admission sinking in, before snapping himself back to reality. "You don't have to worry about me not being there," he promises, hesitating at first and then sinking onto his knees in front of you. He hooks his fingers under your chin, lifting your head to get a better look at you. "I'll be there to catch you, princess," he nods, brushing his thumb gently across your cheek, collecting a tear, "I'll be there every single time."

"Even after all the mess I've created?" You sniffle, it didn't go unnoticed to you that you were undeserving of any of this. He produces a warm but small smile, his hand caressing your face. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as you nuzzle your face into his palm. "I don't deserve you," you mumble, cupping your hand around his.

"One or two people might have said that," he agrees, remembering previous conversations he's had with the likes of Woody and various members of his new club. Woody had told him he was crazy to keep going back, Jadon suggested he should just give up, and Luke had made a comment or two he would never repeat to you. "And maybe once or twice I would've agreed with them," he adds, "but I don't want to move on from you; I want to be with you. I want to fall in and out of love with you. I want us to have arguments over the silliest of things, and then make up by having mind-blowing sex. I want to take you home to meet my parents, hear my nieces call you their auntie, and tell my sister that I think I've found the one."

You closed your eyes and tried to picture the life Mason was already planning for you. Sunday dinners with his family. Playing dress-up and having tea parties with his nieces. Him showing you around his hometown, taking you to all his favourite spots, and sharing ice cream together. It all made you smile.

"It sounds nice," you whisper, opening your eyes.

"It can be if you allow it."

"I like you, Mason," you sit up, lowering his hand into your lap, your fingers fiddling with his, "but I don't know how to do this." You chew on the pad of your thumb, eyes casting down at your joined hands. He strokes his thumb lovingly against the backs of your fingers, an act so small but greatly calms you down. "I don't know where to start, or the right thing to say."

He releases your hand and cradles your face, cutely framing the sides in his large hands, his thumbs brushing against the apples of your cheeks. "Look at me," his eyes peered into yours, their rich earthy tones warm under the low lights, "you like me?"

You frown, "that's what you took away from that?"

"'m sorry," he chuckles, taking his hands away, holding them in the air as he comes to his defence, "I just really liked hearing you say it." He lowers them onto your lap, thumbs brushing against your bare thighs, smiling back at you as you roll your eyes. "Say it again-"

"Mason-"

"Please, baby," he begs, talking over the top of you. He holds up a single finger. "Just say it one more time."

You tilt your head to the side, a surprised laugh bursting from the deepest part of your throat. "Seriously?" He nods, eyes big and round as he produces his best puppy dog eyes for you. "Mason Tony Mount," you take a deep breath and place your hands on both of his shoulders as you move onto the very edge of your bed. He wraps his arms around your waist, preparing to catch you if you were to fall. You lean closer, resting your head against his, gazing into his eyes, letting them drift down to his lips. "I..."

"Go on," he whispers, laying his hands flat against the small of your back, his cheeks twitching as your arms looped around his neck, "say it." You try to close the gap, but you're left chasing his lips. "No," he rejects you, pushing his hands firmly against you, "say it."

"Promise to catch me when I fall?"

"Every time."

Taking a deep breath, you inhaled his warmth, his strength, and his reassurance to always be there to catch you if you fall and exhaled all your insecurities and every part of you that desired to run away. A wrecking ball had hit the walls you had worked so hard to perfect, and Mason had stepped through the hole it left behind.

This was no longer a height you were scared of.

"I like you, Mason," you whisper out into the gap that remains between you. This confession was just for him, it didn't need to be shared with the room's darkness that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. "I like you so goddamn much," you mumble, raking your fingers through his hair, teasing out a gasp as you gave the short strands a soft tug, "and I'm sorry."

Mason frowns, "for what?"

"For hurting you."

He moves one hand from your back, bringing it up to touch the nape of your neck. "I'm not hurting anymore," he whispers just before your mouths collide.

The kiss is exploratory at first. Gentle and intentional. It isn't until his hands are gripping your hips hard that you realise how heated the kiss was becoming - teeth tugging on bottom lips, tongues tangling together, hands pulling at each other's bodies. You pull apart before you can pull him onto the bed, chests rising and falling at a quick pace as you both try to catch your breaths, your eyes still closed, both completely lost in the moment.

This.

This is what you wanted.

"Stay?"

It sounded more like a command than a question, but Mason nodded without saying another word. He removes his hoodie as he stands, and you reach out to touch him, your hands landing on his hips, your lips brushing against the middle of his stomach. He lets out a soft sigh, hooking his fingers under your chin and tilting your head back to look up at him.

"We can take this as fast or as slow as you want it, okay?" You nod, grateful he wasn't expecting you to dive straight into the deep end of this newly forming relationship. "No more running away, no more under-appreciating each other," he says, setting out some basic rules for the both of you, but mainly just for you, "if you stay open and honest with me, then I promise to always be there to catch you."

———————

Taglist: @shanoontje @maseandkepa @theblxefox @blueathens @ofxinnocence @mrschilly @geek-and-proud @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @spicysainz @thoseboysinblue @kickinganddriving @lizzypotter14 @bracedes @chilwellspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @masonsrem @landoslover @kathb59 @emcv1427

#mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount angst #mason mount one shot #mason mount blurb #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #mason mount x you

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leclerced · 4 months

Note

Heyyy hope you have a good day, i come bearing new thots

Credit where credit’s due, the idea is an old and deleted roger Taylor fic and not from me.

HOWEVER. Im now obsessed with this scenario with either lando or oscar (ill let you choose <3)

Roommate!AU !!!

Imagine you’re friends and roommates with lando or oscar and he has to study for his upcoming biology exam at uni. The topic? Female reproductive organs🤭

He just genuinely struggles with understanding the anatomy of a vagina and that picture in his damn book is absolutely not recognisable.

And since him and reader are friends and she doesn’t think thoughts all the way through she offers him to look at hers. I mean hes seen her shirtless a million times its nbd.

And staring at her beautiful pussy really does help him - to an extend. Hes so into his studies he doesn’t really process that he asked her „can i touch it??“ and she just goes along with it bc it’s already lowkey awkward and theres no turning back now.

She tries to not make it more awkward by suppressing her moans when his finger brush over her clit all while hes just identifying parts with his thoughts oblivious to what he does to her.

And she cant keep in the moan when he pushes his fingern in and suddenly he realises what hes doing. But he sneakily keeps going until she cums and hes trying his best to keep up the ignorant act bc shes js too hot like that😩

Got damn it i need a full length version of this fic again 😭

-🫀

i want to write a full length version omfg this is incredible!!! pictured oscar immediately. kinda set in like the early 2000s in my head bc i wanted to mention dvd rentals One Time and that's not a thing anymore but that's the world i grew up in LMAO

sorry i like got too into this at first and forgot i made plans to game with my friend and rushed the ending im sorry. added read more bc it's just over 1k <3 i think i like this a lot other than the ending idk . lmk what u think i hope it meets the expectations set by the original

reader thinks oscar's an innocent idiot but he just probably shouldn't be in medical school because while he can find the clit, he certainly doesn't know the name of it.

Her roommate has been staring at the same page for half an hour, they're seated on opposite ends of the couch, leaning against the arms and facing each other. She has a Stephen King novel leaned on her propped up knees and Oscar has an open textbook balanced on one thigh and a notebook open to a blank page on the other. After another frustrated sigh leaves him, she drops her book on the coffee table and leans over to see what he's looking at. She almost laughs when she sees the miniature sketch of a vagina, "You know, the DVD rental place down the street has rated X movies."

Oscar snorts, "I'm trying to work, leave me alone. I'm supposed to learn all the anatomical names of a vagina, but the only drawing I have is in this stupid book."

She leans in further to the diagram and hums, "That's a horrible diagram, no wonder you're getting nothing done. How old is that that textbook?" He shrugs and stretches back over the arm of the couch, "Probably like thirty, the professor wrote it himself and he's ancient."

Her eyes get pulled to his hips as he reaches behind his head and groans, his shirt lifting the slightest to reveal soft skin before he drops his arms back down. She licks her lips as she directs her gaze up to his face, "I could show you mine, if you want." The swift inhale Oscar makes is audible, he keeps his gaze locked on the books in his lap as he says, "Really?" Instead of verbally agreeing, she just scoots back to where she was leaning moments before on the arm of the couch and shimmies her shorts down before she can think twice. She giggles at the look on Oscar's face as she kicks the shorts off her ankles and he takes in the sight of her panties, lacy and red. "Are you sure?"

She shrugs and teases, "Well it's not like they have 3D models. I'm sure, I wouldn't have offered otherwise. Are you sure?" He nods slowly and she tugs her panties down her thighs and smirks at the blush that creeps up his cheeks as she drops them on his lap. She doesn't know where the sudden confidence has come from, but she feels no shame as she opens her legs to him. She drops one foot to the floor and the other lifts to rest on the back of the couch. Oscar holds her eye for a moment before she watches his gaze drift down her body and he starts to lean in before pausing, "Can I get closer?" She nods at his question and answers, "As close as you want." Oscar lurches forwards, knocking the forgotten textbook to the floor as he fumbles to grab his pen and notebook to take notes.

She can't read his chicken scratch handwriting, so whatever he's scrawling about her pussy is undecipherable to her as she watches him analyze her. She's trying not to think about how this could be weird, how it is weird to offer to let your roommate use you as an anatomy dummy. It's not really the first time. He's done other things, like when he needed to practice IVs so she let him give her a banana bag the next time she was hungover. She liked teasing him about it, calling him Doctor Piastri when she let him listen to her heart with his stethoscope. Or when she comes down with a cold and she calls him into her room to diagnose and treat her, and he brings her cold medicine and soup from the deli down the street.

She's pulled out of her thoughts when he clears his throat and she meets his eyes before she hums quizzically. The pink tint that had spattered his cheeks turns into a bright red as he asks, "Can I touch you?"

She almost thinks she didn't hear him correctly, but there's no way he could have said anything else, so she tries to joke, "So you're a hands on learner, then?"

Oscar quickly counters, "Yeah, do you mind?"

It's her turn to lose her breath as she stupidly nods and blushes as she takes in the realization that he's about to touch her pussy. In the name of science, she agrees, "No, go ahead." Then, his hand is on her pussy and his focus is entirely on the space between her legs as he spreads her lips apart and she has to close her eyes and force her mind to other places as he tilts his had interestedly. She wishes she could stop her body from reacting to his touch, but she can't. Not when he pulls back the hood of her clit, she hears him writing something, then there's a soft pressure on her clit and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to not react. She tells herself not to make any sounds so it won't be weird, he's just trying to study, he's not doing anything to her really.

She can feel the wetness build under his fingers as he slips them down to her entrance and back up. She hears Oscar mutter something but she can't make it out over the blood rushing through her head as he presses his fingers back against her clit. "Is this... The labia?" The laugh she lets out is half a moan, "That's the- clit. Labia are the lips." He dips his fingers down and pinches one lightly, "This?"

She's somehow endeared by the curiosity, and sighs, "Yeah. That. Minora. The outer one is majora."

Oscar lets out a little huff, "How do you know the names? You're not even taking anatomy." His fingers find her clit again, this time lightly pinching it, and her thighs tense as he mumbles, "Clit." She hears his pen scratching across his paper and then dips his finger down to her entrance and presses inside. She wonders what he's thinking as he slowly thrusts his finger in and out of her, his other hand still writing on the paper. It's not until he slips a second finger inside of her and curls them as he suddenly presses his thumb to her clit that she breaks her silence, a whimper falling from her lips as the unexpected pleasure hits her. She somehow doesn't realize then that this isn't his first time like she thought when she saw the surprised look on her face. Then she flutters her eyes open and immediately realizes it because he's already looking up at her, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. She gasps, "You- you didn't really need help, did you?"

He shrugs innocently, "I still don't know the names, could you remind me?" She can't tell if he's being serious or not as he quickens his thumb on her clit and she's saved from responding as he pushes up her body and presses his lips to hers hungrily.

#ask #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri #op81 #op81 smut #🫀anon

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fluorescent-if · 13 days

Text

| DEMO TBA | RO INTROS |

| playlists | pinterest |

Welcome back to Misty Cove!

Your hometown that holds all of your best memories from childhood. Days where you spent all of your time with friends, exploring and playing. The most notable thing about both you and your hometown however, is what started happening in your teenage years. After you and your friends uncovered a mystery about the local movie theater, you starting finding more odd occurrences across the county, and well, it's not like anybody else was going to solve them.

You and your friends because a team of detectives. Most your teenage years and early twenties were spent solving odd crimes across the country. You were all best friends.

That was until four years ago when...

Well, you're not sure you can remember anymore.

It doesn't matter right now. Welcome back.

'Return to Misty Cove' is a horror/mystery Interactive Fiction game that is inspired by Scooby-Doo, The Works of Stephen King, and H.P. Lovecraft. This work will be rated 17+ for gore, violence, swearing, death, and body horror, that might not be suitable for everyone.

Customize your MC's appearance, develop their personality and become the linchpin of your mystery solving team.

Find out more and possibly solve the mystery that has been haunting your hometown.

Rekindle, or destroy old friendships (and maybe develop romances) with your former team, and meet others along the way.

Have an animal companion! (dog or cat)

RO's & Other Major Characters

Cameron "Cam" Morris (M/F) [RO]- Tech-savvy and mechanically minded, Cam is currently working as a mechanic after you and your group broke up, they are currently going to grad school for mechanical engineering, and still sends postcards and pictures to you. They are likely the sweetest person you have ever met, even if sometimes they are too kind to people who don't deserve it. Out of the four of you, Cam was always the one who needed to do what was right, no matter the cost to their self.

Ollie Cohen-Reyes (NB) [RO]- Ollie has always been interested in macabre and strange, spending hours researching in the library any and every topic they were interested in. They get along with very few people, but once they are able to get close with others it becomes easier, and they become sarcastic and witty, and feel less uncomfortable talking about their interests freely. They work as an adjunct professor in forensic anthropology.

Rose/Rory Thompson(M/F) [RO]- They are a loyal person, first and foremost. When the group broke up they somewhat lost their purpose, but they ended up settling and working as a bartender in Misty Cove. Having taken boxing and self-defense classes from a young age due to their paranoid parents, R was always the best when it came to physical confrontation with the cases you investigated, even if outside of this they never seemed like someone who had that much power. They have become far more aggressive and assertive than the person you knew as a child, now having the attitude to match their technical know-how.

Terra Clarke (F) [RO]- You originally knew her by a different name, but she started transitioning early on life, and Terra is the only name you can remember now. Normally when you say it it's followed by an eye roll. Terra was never someone you got along with when you lived in Misty Cove. She was always very antagonistic towards you and your friends, but a lot has changed since the last time you saw her. She now owns her Grandpa's diner, and tries to take good care of the people of the town, especially since the mayor won't do much. She is always exhausted now, but is very happy to see a familiar face, even if your history is muddied because of both of your actions.

Randall 'Randy' Clarke - Terra's grandfather and former owner of "Randy's Diner" always very kind to you and your friends, even if you all never got along with Terra.

Ana Lloyd - (pronounced AH-na) current mayor and overall very unprepared for her job.

Mrs. Candace Talbot- Your former English teacher from high school, you never got along with her that well.

Dorothy Giles- Your co-worker, likely the only one in your office who cares about her job.

(most things are subject to change throughout the games development)

#interactive fiction #interactive novel #intro post #misty cove-if #if wip #twine if #second try for the intro post #I learned how to code to make this game out of spite #misty cove if

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wilwheaton · 1 year

Quote

Elon's new blue-check subscription service was a massive flop, and the sudden removal of nearly half a million blue-checks suddenly made it crystal clear to Twitter's user base that the blue-check club going forward was going to be populated almost entirely by right-wing weirdos. There would be no hanging out with Stephen King or LeBron James; your fellow blue-checks would instead be a few notorious racists and jokes from (checks notes) influential wag "catturd." In fact, by so clearly labeling the worst of Twitter’s worst people, it spurred a genius #BlockTheBlue backlash, in which people gleefully banned the blue-check trolls that now populated the top of every single prominent Twitter thread (like those of actual celebrities announcing their refusal to pay for what was now a worthless mark). The visible unpopularity of the program wasn't just embarrassing for Musk. It's an existential threat to the program’s viability. Musk sold the subscription service as a way to become one of the site's Important People without merit; if all the Important People didn’t just stay off the program, but mocked it, only the most diehard of Musk loyalists would be eager to sign up for that. As the collapse of the program became self-evident, third parties had already begun working on automated #BlockTheBlue plugins that would systematically block all checkmarks. So Musk immediately set out to salvage the reputation and very existence of the $8 club—by forcing Important People to be in it whether they liked it or not. And by "immediately," we mean "by afternoon."

Elon Musk's Twitter Blue is a verified disaster

I was one of Twitter’s early adopters. I was one of those accounts they suggested you follow when it started to get big. I went from a few thousand followers to a hundred thousand in a matter of days, and was at 3 million when I closed my account.

I left Twitter long before Musk took over, but I kept the account to protect it and the branding it comes with from bad people.

Last year, before Musk bought it, I posted a couple of tweets to let those three million accounts know that my memoir had been published. It seemed silly not to. I turned replies off, and just let it be an announcement.

Then Musk took over, and I watched Twitter turn into 4Chan. When it started to become 8Chan, I deleted my entire archive, unfollowed everyone except family, and then made my account private. I figure I still need to protect the username.

I don’t look at my account, but someone told me the check was gone. (Oh, I was one of the earliest verified users, too). I was thrilled. I didn’t want anyone to think I gave that bozo my money.

Then the same person told me the check was back, shortly after I think all decent people had concluded that blue check = red flag (or red hat). So I signed back into my account and updated my bio to make sure nobody ever thinks I gave that dumbass any of my money.

I know I’m not alone. That check mark is now toxic, and I’m not the only longtime verified user who doesn’t want anything to do with it. I wonder if someone more famous than me, with more at stake, makes noise about the implied endorsement / affiliation the blue check now carries with it, and the brand damage that comes with it?

#fuck elon musk #blue check = red hat = white hood

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withahappyrefrain · 30 days

Note

for those smutty prompts you reblogged ☺️ 29, which also goes pretty well with 7 too 💁🏼‍♀️

They do and they fit Birdie and Roo very well!

Warnings: Bradley's hands, reader has a nickname (no appearance described), smut, mentions of insecurities, did I mention Bradley's hands?

You should've noticed it earlier. Any other time when you weren't at your job, when you didn't have to be a professional.

But when Bradley went to give one of your students a high five, the stark juxtaposition of his hand compared to an eight year old's was astounding.

They were huge.

You wanted to entwine your hand with his, to feel his calloused fingertips. You wanted to feel them all over your body, particularly your throat.

But you were at your job. He was here to talk about his job for Career Day, filling in for a last minute cancellation.

So instead, you cleared your throat, "Let's give a big thank you to Mr. Bradshaw for coming in!"

Your professionalism nearly faltered when his hand laid itself on your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze.

"I'll see you later?" Bradley whispered, brown eyes full of hope.

One could see your quiet nod as a way to not draw attention to the interaction.

But you knew the truth. It was to keep yourself from saying something highly inappropriate in front of twenty third graders.

After your illy-timed revelation, it felt like the universe was doing everything within it's power to draw attention to Bradley's hands.

When you came home, you found Bradley in your kitchen, long fingers splayed out across one of your cabinets as his other hand worked to tighten a screw. His brows were knitted together in concentration, the tip of his pink tongue sticking out between his teeth as he focused.

His sweet brown eyes lit up when he saw you at the doorway of the kitchen.

"You'd think for how much your landlord charges, they'd have the decency to make sure all the screws are on tight."

It was such a sweet gesture. You hadn't mentioned it at all, meaning he must have noticed it himself. He took the time to grab his toolbox, bring it over here, and begin fixing it himself.

And all you could do was stare at his hands.

"Birdie? You okay?" His question broke you out of your trance.

"Oh yeah! Thanks Roo," you quickly kissed his warm cheek before excusing yourself to change.

This was bad. It was too early in the relationship to say something. You two had only slept together a handful of times. You still fucked in missionary there was no way you could ask him to choke you.

And what if he wasn't into that? What if he thought it was weird? Wouldn't be the first guy. But the difference now was that you really liked Bradley. You could see a future with him and he felt the same way.

The last thing you needed was to make him run for the hills.

So when you went into the kitchen after changing, you focused on reheating leftovers. Not the way Bradley was playing with Ladybug in the living room, those God damn hands scratching the dog's belly much to her delight.

This plan was going pretty well, until you felt large palms skimming across your bare thighs, a broad chest pressed against your back.

"Are those new?" Bradley asked, referring to the soft lounge shorts you had on.

"Uh yeah. They were on sale so I decided to treat myself," you quietly explained. God, his hands covered so much of your flesh. The way they gently kneaded the soft muscle of your thighs was heavenly combined with the hairs of his mustache brushing against your neck.

"D-do you like them?" Your voice was shaky, though it was an honest question. Okay, maybe you were trying to distract yourself again because thinking of the least attractive thing wasn't taking your mind off the way his fingers had slipped underneath the hem of your shorts.

Usually thinking of the way Stephen King wrote female characters always did trick. At least it did until Bradley Bradshaw came along.

"Love 'em. Love when you show off your thighs," he rasps in your ear.

"Really?" It was never a body part you noticed. In fact, you tried not to think about your thighs and the stretch marks that danced along the skin there or how much space they took up when you sat down.

Bradley nods before placing a soft kiss on your cheek, "Yeah. Don't get me wrong, I love everything about you Birdie."

His declaration makes your heart flutter.

"Guess I've always been a thigh guy? But yeah, your's are pretty damn amazing." You don't have to turn around, the small chuckle he lets out at the end indicates he's flustered.

When you turn around, you're met with rosy cheeks and bashful eyes. Bradley ducks his head into the crook of your neck, placing small kisses along your jawline.

His admission makes you feel at ease, your worries melting away. Your hands find his, several of your fingers wrapping around only one of his.

"I...I like your hands. A lot," you admit.

Bradley's mouth stills, "Really?"

You giggle, "Yeah. Like how big they are. Like how they feel when I hold them."

His mouth moves upward, now against the shell of your ear, "Saw you looking at them earlier. Is that all you were thinking about? Holding them?"

You could say yes and Bradley will drop it. He's had his suspicions about you, that there was more than you lead on when it came to the bedroom. Little things here and there have led him to believe it, as well as that you needed someone to open that door for you.

"I...." You took a deep breath, "I like how your fingers feel inside of me. And....I want to know how they'd feel around my throat."

The groan Bradley let out was gutteral, causing your thighs to clench.

"Jesus fucking Christ Birdie." For a brief moment, anxiety raced through your mind. You had messed up, had gone too far.

But then Bradley's mouth crashed against yours, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs as he picked you up. While the sudden show of strength made your head spin, it was feeling his erection that made you wonder why you worried in the first place.

Once you were placed on the counter, Bradley's hands trailed up your body, squeezing and kneading your soft flesh. His fingers reminded you that you had opted to go braless when you changed, the deft digits paying particularly close attention to your breasts.

All you could do was hold on, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. Before you could even mark up that pretty neck of his, Bradley's hand found yours. His fingers spanned the entirety of your throat.

The grip he had on your neck forced you to look up, allowing Bradley's lips to crash against yours. It was dizzying, how small he made you feel.

Then his hand pressed against your throat and you were a goner. Broken moans filled your kitchen, your hips rutting against Bradley's in a feeble attempt to get more of him.

His other hand slipped past the waistband of your shorts, your body arching into his when his fingers skimmed the thin fabric of your panties.

You loved his touch. You were pretty sure you loved him too but that was a future you problem.

And all too soon, it was gone- his hand around your throat, the other rubbing your clothed core.

If it weren't for the cloud of anxiety beginning to form in your brain, you may have been able to say something witty, like taking it back to the bedroom. But that would require your brain to not jump to the worst conclusion, such as Bradley realizing how weird it was to be obsessed with hands.

Before you could say anything, Bradley dropped to his knees, now at eye level with your lap.

His long fingers trailed up your legs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They finally stopped at the waistband of your shorts.

Shit.

Yes, you knew Bradley was coming over. God, you even had the chance to change into something more appealing than the plain underwear that could only be described as 'granny panties'. And yet, it completely slipped your mind that perhaps you and Bradley would be doing something more intimate this evening.

Alright, that was a lie. You had been hoping that would be the case, but expecting it would be rude.

So you went to apologize, like you always did. Apologize for not being sexy enough, thoughtful enough, not considerate enough-

Bradley's mouth silenced you as soon as it latched onto one of your bare thighs. Your fingers found his sun kissed hair, clinging onto the roots to stay somewhat stable, which was extremely difficult considering the attention Bradley was giving to your thighs.

You thought he would give them a kiss or two, maybe a bite and then move on.

Instead, Bradley had developed an unpredictable pattern when it came to your thighs. A bite here, sometimes followed by his tongue lapping over the mark, other times his lips pressing open mouthed kisses over your skin.

It was nice. Borderline unusual, considering those you dated in the past hardly spent anytime on one specific body part. Was he doing this because of your unappealing underwear?

No. Bradley said he liked-no-loved your thighs. And Bradley Bradshaw actually meant what he said.

The seed of doubt that had tried to grow in your mind withered away with each kiss, with each love bite and mark he placed on your thighs. With every action done by his stupidly talented mouth, worries about what you were wearing faded away.

Instead, you could just enjoy the insanely attractive man who was in between your legs.

God, he was so fucking hot. In such a short time, he had mastered your body, knowing the perfect amount of pressure when he sunk his teeth into your skin. His fingers gripped your soft flesh, hard enough to leave hand-shaped bruises but soft enough to still be pleasurable.

Tension melted off your body. Your head lolled back, mind focused on how enjoyable it was-

Oh.

This is what it was supposed to be like all along, wasn't it?

"Birdie? You okay baby?" When you opened your eyes, Bradley was at eye level with you.

You could only let out a confused huh.

"You stopped making those cute noises." He thought those were cute? You had been trying to hold back, not wanting to be too loud.

Maybe you should be louder.

"Yeah, sorry, I was just enjoying myself," you said sheepishly.

Bradley shook his head, "Nothing you have to apologize for."

When you looked up, he was giving you that earnest smile that made your heart flutter.

It's that exact smile that gives you the courage to learn forward and kiss him, trying to pour as much passion as one can with one simple action.

Your body arches into his, fingers weaving through those soft curls.

One of Bradley's hands snaked down your body, going past the waistband of your panties. A jolt of electricity went up your spine upon feeling his fingers brush against your soaked core.

When his fingers traced over your entrance, you didn't hold back.

Which was great for Bradley, as the desperate moan you let out made his cock twitch.

Of course his fingers were quick and talented, considering his job. You just never considered how it would translate to the bedroom (or kitchen in this case). The first time he thrusted his fingers inside of you, you thought it was a fluke. It had been ages since someone had touched you, which explained why you came so quickly.

But now? You knew better.

Your small kitchen was quickly filled with the sounds of your moans and heavy breathing. Each time his fingers stroked that one spot, you saw stars behinds your eyelids.

How did he find it so quickly?

When his thumb reached up to draw circles on your clit, all you could say was his name over and over again.

Your head felt like cotton, but in a good way. Maybe he could feel the heat radiating off of your body, but for once you didn't care. A particularly hard yank of his locks earned you a low, guttural growl from Bradley, making your walls clench around his fingers.

His free hand quickly found the sides of your neck, squeezing just enough to make a broken wail fall from your lips.

You were fucking gorgeous like this, ears teary from pleasure, lips parted. Bradley had a strong feeling there was more than what you had initially shown him. But that strong wall of reservation had broken down over time. Seeing you like this was nearly enough to make him cum right then and there.

"Br-Bradley," you barely got out, as he changed the angle of his hand, his fingers now able to thrust deeper inside you. Fuck, were you hearing yourself? Did he make you that wet?

It was absolutely certain.

"Yeah?" His voice was smooth like honeyed wine, "You gonna come for Mrs. Bradshaw?"

Fuck.

All at once it hit you like a tidal wave. Your hips jerked erratically, desperate to get as much of his fingers as possible, trying to ride out the wave as much as possible.

Thank god he didn't stop. You were addicted to the pure bliss that was running through your veins. No worries, seeds of doubt miles away. All you could focus on was the gorgeous man in front of you who was making you see stars.

You could process what he said later.

For now, you just rode it out.

"So fucking pretty like this," He rasped in your ear, fingers continuing their ministrations, "Y'know that?" All you could do was weakly nod, sensitivity beginning to overtake your body as you were pulled back to that pleasurable edge.

"Yeah, you're my pretty girl. All mine." The declaration made your head spin.

"A-All yours-Bradley!"

This time when you came, your hands clutched the soft fabric of his shirt, clinging onto him for dear life. Second orgasms were really a thing? You always thought that your inability to experience it in the past indicated that something was wrong with you.

You were beginning to learn the problem wasn't always you.

When he pulled out, his arms wrapped around your back, pulling you in for a hug. Bradley quietly rocked you back and forth, pressing soft kisses to your temple.

"You good Birdie girl?" He asked, the smile evident in his voice.

You nodded, a dozy grin appearing on your face, "Yeah I just-wow. Never came twice before. Thought it was a myth or something."

"I think you've just been with shit people," Bradley stated, feeling comfortable enough to finally address it.

"I think you're right," your arms around his waist and your head settled against his chest.

"I-sorry about what I said earlier," Bradley muttered.

Oh yeah. That was something to talk about.

"The Mrs. Bradshaw thing?" you asked.

Heat rushed to Bradley's cheeks as he rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, "Yeah....I'm sorry if that weirded you out. You were just really pretty-I mean you're always pretty-"

"It's not the first time you've called me that." You felt calm talking about it. Part of that was seeing Bradley visibly nervous.

You did what you would have wanted someone to do. You take his hands into yours, giving them a gentle squeeze as you looked up at him with a soft smile.

"I mean it. I don't mind at all. It was actually....sweet but also kinda hot," you admitted, feeling heat rise to your face.

Bradley raised an eyebrow, "Oh really?"

You playfully rolled your eyes, "Oh God are you going to use this against me?"

"Absolutely I am." Before you could even protest, Bradley had already picked you up.

"C'mon Mrs. Bradshaw, I'm far from done with you."

#ask #my writing #bradley and Birdie #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradsaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster top gun #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster x y/n #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster x y/n #bradley x reader #top gun maverick

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fuckmyskywalker · 1 month

Note

also i just thought of what if you had a gangbang w all of hayden’s characters…

🫧

This is elaborated, disgusting, obviously 18+, selfish (because I imagined me), too long to be real and... maybe tmi.

Up first, Anakin would the jealous one. He wants to go first and he claims he has the right. He wants to be the first one to fuck my pussy and I'm not even mad about it. Going all the way just to give a very unnecessary show about how good and how hard he can fuck. He isn't thrilled about the whole thing but if he has to do it, he needs to show everyone (and by everyone I mean men who have his literal fucking face...) and makes sure to come inside. What a fucking brat he can be.

We all know I have a soft spot for Clay Beresford. He isn't exactly happy about the whole sharing thing but if I'm happy, he's happy ;) Most likely to fuck my face while Anakin fucks me. Maybe I'm being too disgusting but oh well, who cares. He is sweeter and definitely the ultimate soft dom. That doesn't mean he's not going to fuck my face until I almost pass out and make a mess of spit and tears on his thighs. He's the type to come on my face.

Sam Monroe... well, he is the impatient one. Always bitching and whining "when's my turn?", until Anakin snaps and smacks him. He'll get hard as fuck from just watching— he is the voyeurist type and you can't change my mind— and will ask to fuck my face or my tits. He could go down on me but I can totally see him saying that if he does it, he's going to taste Anakin's cock and that would be a little gay. He wants me to swallow (secretly wants me to spit it in his mouth, which is a little gay, Sam).

James Kelly... uh, well he gives me the vibes of being into anal, I'm not particularly interested in it but if he wants to, then I want to. I just can't say no to that man. He'd be gentle at first, then gradually fuck faster and harder and he looks like he gives slaps so fucking hard I wouldn't mind a sore ass tomorrow morning. Also the type to come inside.

Scott Barringer— definitely the shy one. Jerking off just by watching and he needs to be guided. I personally think he wouldn't feel prepared for 'fucking' so he's happy with a handjob and maybe a little blowjob <3. He is the whiny one too and he also wants me to swallow... and a little appreciation kiss after he comes.

Lorenzo, okay, okay. He wouldn't mind at all to eat me out after Anakin fucked me because he is just that hot. He looks like he knows how to eat pussy and he is the handsy type, touching, groping, slapping and pinching every inch of skin available as he makes sure to clean Anakin's mess and make me even messier. Maybe, just maybe he's the one who offers 69 because he is just that guy (also not a big fan of it but for him... anything).

A.J. and fuck, he can do whatever he wants. I think he'd pick blowjob and then cowgirl. He likes to see me do the work, and he is a tits man so expect tit slapping...

Which brings me to Billy Quinn who will most certainly use the opportunity to fuck my ass while A.J. fucks my pussy— bonus points for this combo because Billy looks like he'd pinch nipples while he fucks from behind and A.J. is fucking amazing at dirty talk (plus he's the only one I could talk Spanish with so... that thought alone makes me die). Both would come inside.

This is biased but David Rice would fuck my pussy (at this point how am I not dead) while I'd totally suck Stephen Glass' ass (not the fucking rhyme). I'd even stroke his cock while I do that, multitask queen. David gives me the vibes to come on my back, I don't know why, and Stephen wouldn't last long because he loves to have his ass eaten... we all know that. He would probably cry if I start fingering him too, pretty boy.

Obviously everything is raw and nasty, they all took multiple STDs tests (Lorenzo took like 6) and there isn't a particular order after Anakin but he just wants to make clear that he owns me and blah blah— also most likely to fuck me again after it's done just to make his statement clear.

Or they can all get me on my knees and jerk off on my face and shower me with cum 👍🏻🥳 party!!!

I can't believe I wrote this. I hope it's not too nasty... and if it is, then you are in the right place.

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya answers!#🫧 anon #anya's confessional #anya's first gangbang!!!

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ironstrange1991 · 2 months

Text

A Very Busy Sorcerer

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Stephen has been very busy the last few days and the reader decides he needs a moment to relax.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: SMUT: Handjob and some dirty talk. Use of the word daddy one or two times. Mostly fluff.

A/N: Working two jobs I haven't had much time to write, but I managed to finish this one for you guys and I hope you like it.

One of the things you tried not to do was disturb Stephen when he was working. You were still getting used to the idea of living together, even though you had been dating for almost 2 years and you were used to him sleeping in your apartment or you sleeping at the Sanctum almost every day, but actually living together was completely different and you wanted to show him that you knew how to respect his space and that you understood how busy he was.

However, since Stephen had set the date for the next mission with the Avengers he was always stressed, always worried and barely left the library, always reading and preparing for whatever he had to do. - As time went by, you stopped asking him to explain his missions to you. Today was no exception, Stephen was in the library, he was there all day in fact and even though it was Saturday, Wong was still wandering around the Sanctum instead of going back to the Kamar Taj like he normally did on the weekends, and you were bored and upset at being left aside and knowing that soon you would be alone in that huge house.

But you weren’t worried about yourself, you were worried about Stephen. He had barely been eating the last few days and when you brought it up he always said he was fine, but all that nervousness and stress couldn't be further from fine. You just wish you could find a way to make him stop and breathe for a minute and perhaps relax a little bit before going out on his mission. If you could just get him to talk to you a little, or eat something healthy, you'd feel less worried.

You found yourself searching for Wong to make sure he wasn't in the library too and found the Sorcerer Supreme in the Window of Worlds room doing who knows what. Having decided, you went to the library and found Stephen at his desk reading a huge book. He was so absorbed in his reading that he even noticed you approaching, even though Cloaky broke free from his shoulders and flew towards you.

He only noticed you when you were already at his side, asking so that the sentient relic could leave your both alone for a moment. Cloaky flew away happily and you smiled feeling a warmth in your heart. Sometimes you caught yourself thinking it was weird to have so much affection for a piece of clothing, but Cloaky was so much more than that you end up telling yourself every time.

Stephen sighed heavily as if he expected you to complain to him, even though he knew you never complained. Maybe he simply knew he had crossed the line today.

"Sweetheart, I know its Saturday and I know I should be spending some time with you, but I really need to find this specific spell..."

You shushed him wrapping your hands around his shoulders and positioning yourself right behind him. "I know. I didn't come here to complain, Steph. Do what you have to do." You said in a honeyed voice and began to massage his shoulders slowly. "I just want to spend some time with you while I can, if that's okay. I promise I won't disturb you."

He sighed heavily as you started working on a knot on his right shoulder and you could feel him melting under your touch and that was one of the things you loved most in the world.

"You could never disturb me, sweetheart. Hmm, this feels so good. I don't deserve you, Y/n."

"Shh. Enjoy it."

You smiled to yourself and continued with the massage and Stephen did his best to turn his attention back to his book which from what you could see was all written in runes.

It wasn't your intention to distract him, but you couldn't help but feel a little proud when you noticed how much he was melting into your touch, the slight moans he made every time you put more pressure on an area of his shoulders that needed to be worked on more carefully and – of course – it didn’t took long for dirty thoughts start to creep into your mind.

As the minutes passed, your hands began to become more daring, going down his defined chest covered by his blue robes and he sighed contentedly when your lips began to place little kisses on the back of his neck, going up to bite his earlobe and finally whispering into his ear.

"Does it feel good?"

He groaned, lolling his head back and closing his eyes and resting it on your chest.

"It's perfect. I'm so tired, sweetheart. You have no idea."

You nodded "Yes I do. I’ve been worried about you all day. That's why I'm here. I wanted to make you relax a little bit."

He hummed positively, "God, it's working. I love the way you work your hands, Y/n. They're delicate, but firm at the same time. Perfect."

You felt your heart flutter in your chest and decided to dare a little by running your hand down his chest until you reached his belt. "Yeah? What if I use them here. Do you think I can make you relax even more?"

Stephen almost purred feeling your fingers ghosting over a growing bulge. He let out a low moan when you held him over his pants, rubbing your hand against him to tease him and then you dedicated yourself to unbuckling his belt.

You placed a kiss on his neck and walked around his chair, placing yourself between him and his desk. Stephen moved the chair back, giving you more space and watched you kneel in front of him with a big and warm smile.

You unbuttoned his pants and quickly took his cock out. He was already half hard and you couldn't resist giving him a little kiss on the head as he moaned a little louder this time but quickly tried to compose himself.

"Sweetheart...Wong is still at the Sanctum."

You smiled mischievously, licking your hand and started pumping him up and down slowly.

"I know."

Stephen let out a nervous chuckle, but his cock quickly hardened in your hand. "You know he could come in here at any moment, then.” Though his words should sound like a warning, his voice broke with sweet moans and you thought they were really cute.

“Oh fuck... these hands... devilish."

You giggled, stopping just for a second so you could spit on his cock and go back to stroking him. The wet, lewd sound only adding even more to his pleasure.

Stephen bit his lower lip hard to try and suppress a loud moan at which you tsked.

"It's okay, let me hear you, Steph. Wong is up stairs, it's just you and me here. You know I love hearing your moans, they make me so wet. Sometimes I touch myself just thinking about it, replaying the sound on my head."

Stephen gasped as you held him tighter twisting your hand while moving it up and down. His legs shook a little and he moaned loudly for you just the way you loved to hear.

"So fucking dirty, sweetheart. Oh I love it! I love when you work your hands in my dick. The best handjob I ever had."

You smiled proudly. "Yeah? You're flattering me just because you want me to make you cum."

Stephen moaned even louder this time.

"God yes, please. I need you to make me cum, sweetheart. But it's not only because of that. You're perfect. You know I always say this. You’re always so good to me."

One of the things you loved most about Stephen was how controlling and rough he could be in sex and at the same time be sweet and affectionate. He was always so sweet when he let you have control over him like that, and you loved it.

You spat on his cock again and started working with both hands, rotating one from the base to the tip and the other massaging his balls. Stephen let out a groan and caressed your face, his thumb pulling your bottom lip down.

"Why don't you put that little mouth to work for me, uh? I'm dying for a blowjob."

You smiled mischievously, but even though his voice sounded so pleading and sexy, broken by small moans, you didn't give in. You know he would take back control to himself if you let him fuck your mouth, and you were loving that little submissive moment of his.

"I want you to cum on my hands, Stephen. You just told me how much you love them. They are not enough?"

"Yes I do. Shit! They’re more than enough, sweetheart. I could cum just from thinking about them as I did so many times. " He whispered between moans and his thighs trembled under your hands and his cock throbbed. "Fuck… but I need it faster, need more."

You bit your lip holding back a moan of your own. Seeing your man in that state was a huge turn on for you.

"Fuck Stephen... I'm so wet right now. Pussy is begging for you, and I know you want me too. So badly. You wanna put your cock inside me, don't you? Fell my pussy stretching around it..."

"Fuck yes." Stephen groaned and his cock jumped in your hand.

You started to work both hands on his cock, feeling him throb beneath them. He was so close, all he needed was a little push.

"Come on then, Steph, show me how much you love my hands. Cum all over them, make a mess for me. I just want you to feel relaxed, you deserve it. Have been working so hard these last few days. I just want to make you feel good."

"Oh yeah, sweetheart..." He moaned loudly. "Keep talking to me."

You smiled, satisfied now that you had him the way you wanted. "Give me your cum, daddy. Love you so much. I just want to be a good girl for you, wanna make daddy cum in my hands. I know you love my hands, Stephen. Show me how much. Give it to me."

Stephen let out a loud groan and started to cum. Warm and thick ropes of cum spurting from his cock and spilling onto your hands.

"There you go, Steph" You praised.

"Oh fuck... oh sweetheart. God, I love you, sweet girl." The words escaped his trembling lips as his body shook. His cum running down your fingers, some soiling the top half of his robes. A delicious mess.

He caressed your face, laughing softly, the sound making your heart jump in your chest.

"Such a good girl for daddy. Love you so much, Y/n."

You smiled sweetly at him watching as he conjured a cloth and began to clean himself as best as he could, but you knew it would take a lot more than that to get the smell of cum out of his robes.

He took your hands and began to gently clean them and then got rid of the dirty cloth and buttoned his pants and belts again with a flick of his fingers.

"I'll let you get back to work now." You said, getting up and threatening to leave, but he was faster. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to sit on his lap.

"Do you really think I'm going to let you go that easily?" He threatened with a smirk.

"I don't want to disturb your work, Steph."

He buried his face in your hair inhaling deeply.

"Too late for that, don't you think? Or did you really think I could go back to work after a handjob like that?"

You let out a small giggle "I didn't mean to."

He pulled your hair to the side and purposefully rubbed his goatee across the crook of your neck making your skin prickle. "Well, I think that was exactly your intention and now you got what you wanted."

"And what exactly did I want?" You asked, feigning innocence.

Stephen bit your earlobe "Making me hard for you, wanting to fuck you senseless until you ask me to stop."

"That’s not true." You said petulantly, turning to look at him and pulling him to your lips. "I never ask you to stop." You said biting his lip.

Stephen held you tight in his lap, standing up and opening a portal to his room. Work would have to wait.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing ;)

DOCTOR STRANGE MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Tag list: @doctorstrangelovemusic-blog @rachelessfreedom-world @ppatricia34me @strangesgirls @dreamxonxx @benaddictcumberpatch @iamsherlocked1479 @veryladyqueen @notglucose @wickedscribbles @agathassscribbles @rmoonstoner @fanartka @nicoletk @azu21 @captaincarmel416 @harlekin6 @coffedraven @withalittlehoney

@dontmindme262 @dementeddoll @yourmajesty13 @strangeions @bloodyflowerrr @insanelyobsessedwithdilfs @dragonqueen89 @newtsniffles @whiskeyho @sherlux @xourownsidee @kakashibabe02 @hobimysolecito @geeky-politics-46 @lykaonimagines @d0ct0rstrangewife @classickook @iobsessoverfictionalmen @bobateadaydreams @aphroditesdilemma @sassenach-on-the-rocks

@thealleydog @anadlockfan @pinkthick @loverofallbroken @butchers-girl @ironstrangeheart @asgards-princess-of-mischief @slytherinqueen4life

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orphicdreamers-wp · 3 months

Text

I Know The End — Nico Hischier

Summary; In which a rumor started turns into you staring the end of your lifelong dream in the eye

Content Warnings: Blackmail, false accusations of assault, mentions of cancer, mentions of blood, mentions of suicidal thoughts, mentions of death during childbirth, angst, Jack & Luke Hughes acting out of character, pick me fem oc(Julia), Nico being caught in the crossfire, inaccuracies of being banned from the NHL, female NHL player

Pairing: Nico Hischier & Fem Reader

You had always loved hockey, your father held the highest pride in his only daughter enjoying his favorite sport. He’d played hockey briefly for a professional team in Germany when you were really young. So it didn’t come as a surprise to him when you decided you wanted to play hockey as well. He was reserved to let you play, your mother had died a few years earlier. She died during childbirth with your younger brother, Vincent and your dad didn’t want to lose you too. But reluctantly he agreed to let you play, because he saw how much you loved it.

So you played hockey from your seventh year in school and you eventually made it onto the Professional Women’s League’s Boston team for about a year and a half. But that wasn’t where you heart was. Your father had encouraged you to go for the NHL, but he didn’t make it to your draft. He had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and had stopped responding to treatment just weeks before the draft was scheduled. He had passed away the night before you were drafted by the New Jersey Devils.

You knew before you were drafted that playing on a team with a bunch of guys wouldn’t be easy. You knew that you would find yourself the brunt of the jokes and facing a lot of hazing from the men. But you didn’t mind it, as long as you got to do what you loved you didn’t mind if the men who were on your team hated you and the idea of you being there. As time progressed only one of the players really seemed to be okay with your presence, Nico seemed to enjoy being around you. Whenever the team won and would go out to celebrate Nico always kindly extended the invitation to you, knowing the other guys weren’t.

You rarely accepted but whenever you did you found yourself enjoying the time spent with Nico and occasionally the other players when they were in decent enough moods to tolerate you. So it wasn’t a surprise when you and Nico wound up intertwined in each other and eventually became a couple. But that never would have worked out, not in a million years. So you and him broke up and within a month he was already seeing someone new. Her name was Julia, and you liked her enough. She was smart and kind. But if you knew then that she would be the reason your in the position you are you would have never spoken to her.

You were leaned against the boards untaping your stick after practice when your head coach Lindy Ruff approached you, “I need to see you in my office now.” You were taken aback by the urgency in his tone as you could feel eyes on you. You frowned slightly as you made your way to his office. You raised an eyebrow as you walked into a room full of men, you were used to it so you sat down and waited as an uncertain feeling loomed over your head.

Coach Ruff spoke ever so gently, as if he was scared of your reaction to the news he had, “I’m sure you know Comissioner Gary Bettman, Director of Officiating Stephen Walkom, Security Officer Miles Anderson and this is attorney Leslie Ryans.” You furrowed an eyebrow further growing confused, “What’s going on coach?” Coach Ruff blew out a deep breath, “Over the past 2 days a lot of rumors have been circulating regarding you and some unacceptable behavior.” You frowned, “I haven’t seen anything, what are you referring to?”

Coach Ruff slid a folder across the desk and you stared at the papers inside. It was printed out screenshots from a Twitter account. The tweet was from Nico’s current girlfriend, Julia. It went in depth of an alleged assault she experienced because at your hands because you were jealous of her and her relationship with Nico. You frowned as you shut the folder and dropped it on the desk, “Coach you don’t seriously believe I could do that, do you?”

Coach Ruff shook his head, “This was not the decision made by just me Y/N. This was all the coaching staff here’s decision. Along with Director Walkom. But most importantly this was Commissioner Bettman’s decision. It looks bad for the organization. I’m sorry but the only choice I have is to remove you from my roster and tell you that you are barred from the team and the NHL as a whole for the foreseeable future.”

You shook your head as you stood up, feeling your voice raise, “This is unfair to me. You all just sat behind a closed door and unanimously decided that my career and my reputation were worthless while you believed baseless claims about me that have nothing to back them up?” You ran a hand over your damp cheeks, “How the hell is this fair to me?”

Coach Ruff shook his head, “It’s out of my hands. Pack your stuff.” You shook your head, “How can you do this to me? To reach deep inside of me and pull out everything I have ever worked for and throw it on the ground so carelessly? I resent it.”

A sob wracked through your chest as you took a deep breath, “This is bullshit. I shouldn’t have left Germany, I can’t believe your taking the last piece of my dad away from me. I resent that and I resent you all for that.” You opened the door to the office and were met with Nico, Jack and Luke sporting solemn expressions. Your eyes were bloodshot and stained with tears.

You walked past them and began to empty the contents of your locker. Nico spoke quietly, “Are you okay?” You glared at him as you dropped some of you items into the box, “Like you care.” You dropped the last items in your box as you began to untape the photos of you and your dad and your friends in various places. You picked up your box, the past 4 years of your life amounting to a single box. You sighed as you walked past Nico, “Keep your lying ass bitch away from me. Or god help me it won’t be a rumor anymore.”

Nico frowned at your words, “What the hell is she talking about?” Luke let out a defeated sigh, “This.” He handed Nico his phone as Nico slowly digested the information he was reading. He handed Luke his phone as he found himself driving to Julia’s house. The door opened and Julia smiled widely at the sight of her boyfriend, “Hi baby!” Nico’s tense demeanor didn’t shift, “Why would you post that? I know that’s a lie, why?” Julia’s face paled, “Why do you care? It’s not about you!”

Nico scoffed, “Because you just got her fired for good. She’s banned from the NHL, not just fined. This was the most important thing to her. Why would you do that?” Julia’s voice lowered, sounding similar to a small child who was in trouble, “Jack asked me to get rid of her.” Nico’s eyes widened, “What?” Julia’s eyes watered, “Jack told me that if I didn’t find a way to get her off the team he would tell you about me and Dawson.” Nico raised an eyebrow, “What about you and Dawson?” Julia sniffled, “We hooked up at that party Jack threw.” Nico scoffed, “I don’t care. We’re over, fix this.”

A good month had passed and you had finally accepted that you were done in the NHL. You were packing up your apartment in New Jersey so you could move home to Germany with your grandparents and finally start school. Your phone rang, you frowned slightly as you read Nico’s name across the screen and answered, “Hey what’s up?” Nico’s soft voice filled your ears, “Check Twitter.” You frowned as you opened the Twitter app on your phone when Nico hung up.

You frowned as your phone began to ring endlessly, teams leaving voicemails telling you that they’d love to have you, Coach Ruff leaving messages apologizing and asking you to return. A message from Nico made you smile briefly. He told you to do what you already knew to do. You smiled as you typed out a quick response ‘I did. Check Twitter’

#hockey player x reader #fanfic #hockey #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier x reader #nico hischer #nj devils #jack hughes

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the-doomed-witch · 8 months

Note

Hey can you write a natasha romanoff or wanda maximoff with fem reader with taylor swift's gorgeous? I think that song is perfect for them and it's my fav. Taylor song. Thanks in advance

YOU’RE GORGEOUS

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re the journalist, and she’s a celebrity. You’re drunk, and she’s gorgeous. You know how it goes. // based on Gorgeous by Taylor Swift

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. MINORS + MEN DNI. a really thick tension, almost competing w e/o, jealousy?, everyone’s like reaaally getting drunk, publicly making out, nothing but pining, situationship but it actually works out 💀

SEND ME REQUESTS BASED ON TAYLOR SWIFT SONGS

Author’s Note: hi anon! i hope you enjoy this 🫶 if you noticed the “hey stephen” no you didn’t 😭 also sorry this became kind of long but overall i loved writing this

MASTERLIST // NAVIGATION

— ✦ —

Her flashing green eyes meet your glare as soon as she enters the room, hands tied with her stupid boyfriend. He’s not even just some guy, he’s a fucking microwave.

It was yet another Avengers party, and you were there as a member of the press, again. It was the third one this month, and you were tired of coming up with questions to interview them with. You showed up, asked them updates about their upcoming plans in hopes of a new cover story, ignored Wanda in every way that you could, got drunk, and left. It was a routine for you. But at least you got to drink expensive wine.

Your body tenses up at her sharp death stare, as if she was ready to burn you down. Wherever she went, you moved to the opposite direction, joining a circle of people or excusing them to click a picture of them. Of course, Stephen Strange was a fellow who’d love to get a picture taken, so you follow him.

Wanda sways her hips while walking up to you, her black dress gliding with the movement of her hips. “Hey Stephen, could you excuse us for a minute? Thanks.” Having no opportunity to answer, he nods with a formal smile and leaves you in Wanda’s privacy, all alone.

Placing her glass of whiskey aside, she hugs you. Albeit lightly, but you lose your breath for the second. “Y/N, what a delight to meet you. I feel like we need a lot of catching up to do.” she speaks with a smirk on her face, adorned by curls of her red hair falling down gracefully

You politely agree and grab yourself a drink; it was what you had to do in your professional capacity. Journalists cannot be rude to anyone.

She takes you to a quieter corner of the deafening party, that God knows how even exists. It was dark, but you had a couch to yourselves, just enough space to fit the two of you at a safe distance.

She speaks something, but you don’t hear it, you’re too busy staring at her cleavage. Wanda understands the direction of your pupils right away, and stretches her back, rotating her neck to release the tension.

“I’ve been really tired today. But since we are old friends, I think I should know a little bit about your life these days. How’s everything going on? Have you got a girlfriend?”

Old friends? That’s how you define a homoerotic ass situationship? Really, Wanda? You decide to join her game, and take off your coat, folding it and resting it on your lap.

“Mm, I’d love to say yes, but I’m afraid not. It’s kinda on and off you know.” You adjust your tie, it was harder to breathe with Wanda so close to you. “How are things with Vision?” you counter question her. It isn’t a competition, but you fear giving in against her.

She takes a deep breath, and replies, “I hope none of this goes out into the press.”

“You can trust me, Wans.” You add the nickname as a sign of confidentiality and a personal effect.

“Things haven’t been good with him. I don’t even know what he’s doing out there right now. I’m not even sure where he even is, if he has left the party to go to a club or something. Not that I care anymore…”

“I’m sorry for that, I wish he wasn’t a moron.”

She laughs and slightly hits your arm, “Hey! I’m still his plus one for the night.”

“I guess you should try to find him around here somewhere, then.” you give her the evil smirk. She reflects the same expression and says, “It hurts to know you don’t have a girlfriend yet. You deserve one, for the stunning woman you are.”

It suddenly turns into a game of who can hold back longer and who can roast better. You excuse yourself from the coversation after a little while, and proceed to ask people some questions.

With the glances you steal, you observe that Wanda doesn’t smile for the rest of the evening, not even the perilous grin of hers. The time passes for hours till you are inebriated again, spending your time with the even more drunk host of the evening; Tony Stark.

You stand in a group with him, Valkyrie and Thor around you, all high from unhealthy amounts of drinking. You still hold yet another glass of wine in your hands, sipping between quips and laughter.

“She called me her ‘old friend’… The fuck does that even mean? A friend who’s older than you?” The group laughs with every sentence you narrate to them.

“Girl, we’ve had our fair share of situationships… none of them have ever called me an ‘old friend’… it’s just the weirdest thing to say…”

Thor holds his guffaws back and asks you, “But Y/N, who is this lady that you’re talking of?”

“Well you wouldn’t believe.”

Tony joins in the conversation, “Oh come on Y/N, tell us!”

You notice Wanda entering the little crowd of four of you. She’s just as drunk, but seems to be in little control of herself, unlike you.

You throw your arm around her shoulders, and watch her change the subject of discussion. Maybe she heard what you said, maybe it was involuntary, but she is here to the rescue of you and herself.

In between drinks and limericks by Thor, Wanda’s hand extends to your waist, your arm still around her shoulders.

You both turn towards each other to laugh, but the smiles falter away with the vicinity of your bodies. You freeze for a moment, watching her eyes give you a soft look for the first time in months. Suddenly, she’s the only one in the enormous room, filled with thousands of people. She’s the only one emanating light, in the crowdful of darkness.

Her eyebrows stretch up, with her uncertain expression. For a response, you move your hand to her nape, scratching it softly as you tug her closer to you. She wraps your tie around her wrist, in an attempt to pull you more quickly than your pace.

Her lips feel warm, and delicate. With repeated scratches at the back of her neck, she sighs and pulls your tie even closer, consequently her tongue meeting yours. Your stomach tingles with butterflies till she gives you space to take a breath.

It’s infuriating to feel this way. Out of all the alcohol that made you drunk, only the feeling of her lips brushing against yours managed to intoxicate you.

The lustre of her black dress remains lingering in your eyes when you push Wanda against the bar counter, careful not to hurt her exposed and freckled back. “You’re so fucking gorgeous Wanda,” you speak before capturing her into another kiss, “I hate it so much. God, I hate it so much.”

“Hate me enough to take me home tonight?”

“Oh I could be alone all I want. Unless you wanna come along?”

#skye’s taylor swift themed drabbles #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff smut

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leafy-m · 4 months

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Because I'm autistic and because I love Witch Hat Atelier Kitchen, I page-by-page compared the recent Kodansha USA English release of volume 1 to its Japanese and fan-translated counterparts.

If you've read the official English translation, you may have noticed that some of the big Orufrey moments are.... a bit underwhelming, word-wise. You may have even noticed that the word "wine" is suspiciously missing from the final chapter's WillowGrape Wine recipe, in which wine is kind of an important and obvious factor in it! And you would be correct!

While most of this manga volume is pretty accurate to the original text, there is absolutely a concentrated effort to tone down the more tender Orufrey moments, as well as minimize the alcoholic nature of the final chapter's recipe and related contraptions.

And that's frustrating!

The entire draw of this manga spin-off is seeing these gay witch dads take care of each other and their four daughters in an idyllic countryside setting while also making yummy food that you the reader can try make too. Why is Kodansha USA trying to no-homo these gays?? (Is this a reflection of how bad things are in the USA now?) And while you might say, "But Jade! Qifrey and Olruggio are not actually dating in canon!" — and I would agree with you! But there is nothing straight about these mens' behavior in this comic, and if Qifrey is going to look in Olruggio's direction while tenderly saying his name in Nearly Every Chapter, I expect to read that in English, dammit!

So I'm activating my autism trap card and presenting ya'll with a thorough comparison of every mistranslated and omitted Orufrey or wine moment, complete with discussion and screenshots from the Japanese, fan-translated, and USA English versions. This post is ridiculously long and maxed Tumblr's 30-image limit so chapter 10's discussion is actually in a reblog (sob sob), so I'm putting it all under a cut (you're welcome), and you can be sure that I'll be doing this again if need be for the translated volumes releasing next year.

For now? Let's go.

CHAPTER 1: pg 10

Japanese: フフ...

Fan translated: Heh heh

English version: Ahh...

This is a small moment, but it's important because it's foreshadowing. Qifrey is "airing out" the kitchen, but what he's really doing is sending those delicious smells into Olruggio's room. He's trying to lure him into the kitchen! And that little フフ/heh heh panel is evidence that he's up to something. If you've noticed in the main series, whenever Qifrey is doing something shady or it has a double-meaning, the 'camera angle' focuses on this side of his face with the dark lens.

But the English version obfuscates this by changing フフ to "Ahh..." like, 'isn't that better,' even though it keeps the ellipsis thought bubble indicating that something is up. Why the mixed messaging?

CHAPTER 1: pg 13

Japanese: オルーギオ!

Fan translated: Orugio!

English version: Excellent!

This is the first of many moments where Qifrey will directly say Olruggio's name, and yet the English version will translate it to something else, or drop it entirely. And no, "there wasn't enough room" is not a valid excuse for most of these. Especially when Olruggio's name can (and often is) shortened to Olly.

Look at Olruggio's little smirk at making Qifrey beam happily like that. My God. Kodansha USA/translator Stephen Kohler, why would you take this from us.

CHAPTER 1: pg 14

Japanese: 二人共今日も一日　お疲れ様でした!

Fan translated: These two people are together tonight. Another day's work well done, you two!

English version: Here's to another long day... ...and a well-earned break!

The omnipresent narrator from the beginning of the chapter is back, and clearly highlighting that 'these two people' are together tonight. And yet the English version removes all that. It may be redundant since we can see they're together in the illustration, but the whole page has that type of text redundancy, like focusing on 'eating that first bite,' or how 'a laugh bubbles up' with Qifrey. And combined with all of the other later omissions, this becomes an obvious trend of targeting these specific types of moments.

Update: Thanks to Farlynthordens for additional insight on this Japanese phrase!:

二人共: (the) two of you [the "tomo" implies the narrator is talking "to" them rather than "about" them] futari-tomo means in a literal sense "(you) two people who are together", but in terms of actual usage/definition it's just identifying a specific pair of people who the speaker is talking to.

今日も一日お疲れ様でした: the rest of this can't really be separated. this whole phrase is meant to be like "good work for all the things you did over the course of this whole day". the fan translation seems to have not understood that the two text blocks were meant to be all one sentence. so if you put this all together, it's like "Good work for everything today, guys!"

Knowing this, I'll still keep it as part of the list because it does omit addressing the two of them in the English version, which follows that trend of minimizing these moments between them. But thank you for the clarity! 💕

CHAPTER 2: pg 28

Japanese:　料理も魔法器も相手のことを一番に考えるのは　君の美德だね　半分ずつだオルーギオ

Fan translated: Whether you're cooking or performing magic, you always think of others before yourself. It just goes to show your good character. We'll share it, Olruggio.

English version: I've always admired that about you. Whether in your work of in the kitchen... ...You always think of others' needs before your own. All right. Let's split it, then.

The English version has two mistranslations here. I'll start at the top. In it, Qifrey is observing how Olruggio puts others first, and then compliments how it shows his good character. The 'good character' bit is changed to "I've always admired that about you," which at first I thought was sweet! Points for Kohler. But now that I really look at it, there is still some shady translating happening here.

In writing and communicating, what is said last has the most importance. This is how people "bury the lede," by hiding important information in the early part of a speech or amid other sentences, and then distracting them with other stuff.

In that English version top panel, even though Qifrey is complimenting Olruggio, by having it be said first it makes the second speech bubble (and therefore Olruggio's flustered response) be about Qifrey remarking on Olruggio's own behavior, rather than Qifrey's nice compliment about his character. Which changes the meaning of what's going on here. Olly is not flustering because he puts others first, he's flustering because Qifrey is saying something really nice about him, right to his face!

And then of course, in the bottom panel, Qifrey saying Olruggio's name is once again removed.

And I have to say, this bothers me not just because of autistic AcCUraCY! needs, but because he is very specifically saying his name. They are the only people in the room, it's very clear who Qifrey is addressing, and yet here he is once again, putting that man's name in his mouth.

It is intentional.

It is heartfelt.

STOP REMOVING IT!

CHAPTER 3: pg 36 and 37

Japanese: (Olruggio): キーフリーそれいらないならこっちに..してくれ (Qifrey): オルーギオ　ひとつおねがい!

Fan translated: (Olruggio): Qifrey, if you won't be needing those, send them my way. (Qifrey): One pot please, Olruggio!

English version: (Olruggio): Mind if I grab those breadcrumbs from ya? I'm gonna use 'em as a binder for the patties. (Qifrey): Could you bring that pot over here for me?

This is a sweet segment because it shows how well Qifrey and Olruggio work in tandem in the kitchen. As someone who has repeatedly failed at working harmonically with others while making food, them being in sync in the kitchen is more fantastical than the actual magic.

And once again, Olruggio and Qifrey saying each other's names are removed. The Olruggio panel translation is also a bit misleading because (as you can see in the larger fan-translated photo), it's Qifrey who is controlling that wind spell! Olruggio is not "grabbing" the breadcrumbs from him, it's Qifrey who is sending them to him. It also lends to the back-and-forth of these moments because as soon as Olly's done with that pot, he gives it to Qifrey to use.

CHAPTER 3: pg 41

Japanese: ありがとうオルーギオ　行ってきます

Fan translated: Thank you, Olruggio. We'll see you later.

English version: Thank you, my friend. We'll be on our way now.

We're now at the part of the manga where Qifrey saying Olruggio's name is changed to "my friend" in the English version. Which is a phrase I'll admit I have some Daevabad baggage with, so idk, is this some platonic ray-beaming or is it code for tender feelings for that person you like but aren't ready to date yet because of trauma and societal complications? Is Stephen Kohler a Daevabad fan? So many unknowns. Still counting it as a wrong though.

CHAPTER 4: pg 56

Japanese: (Olruggio): ま... 眩しくて眠れやしない (Qifrey): がんばれ! オルーギオ

Fan translated: (Olruggio): Really... I can't sleep with all this shimmering... (Qifrey): Do your best! Olruggio.

English version: (Olruggio): Hmph. How's a man supposed to get some sleep with this thing sparklin' away over here? (Qifrey): Keep at it... ...my friend.

Qifrey literally made a bouquet of rose-shaped tarts for Olruggio to cheer up his room, so of course the English translation needs to tamp down that gayness by unnecessarily bringing up Olruggio's manhood when he complains about not being able to sleep from the tarts' sparkling. Even though this chapter's cover image is of Olruggio sitting in a field of flowers, pondering quietly as he holds one in his hand. Maybe later chapters will have Olruggio edited so he's sitting 5 feet away from Qifrey.

And again, Qifrey saying Olruggio's name in the bottom panel is changed to "my friend" in the English version.

CHAPTER 6: pg 95

Japanese: いい出来だろ? 家事の分担が大変だなんて思ってたらこんなものは作れねえぜ

Fan translated: Turned out pretty good, right? If I really thought sharing the housework was a pain, then I couldn't make something like this.

English version: Whaddya think? Not bad, huh? Sorry for leavin' you stuck with all the chores these last few days. I figure this is the least I can do.

Of all the mistranslations, this one bothers me the most. Olruggio is a wonderful malewife! He is constantly trying to help Qifrey out with the Atelier chores, in Kitchen and the main series. And yet the English translation changes the entire context of what these panels are saying.

The right panel is Olruggio proud of how good the soup tastes (it's even in a fancy bread bowl!), and yet the English translation downplays it by saying, 'Not bad, huh?'

Then the left panel, with it's sparkly background and close-up on Olly's face, goes further into how if he thought helping out with the housework was a pain, he wouldn't be capable of making stuff like this. Which is an understated way of saying that Qifrey can rely on him for things like this. (and he says it more outright in other chapters/the main series) But instead the English version is treating this soup like it's an apology for not helping out more. It's also really stupid because Olruggio was not making the soup as 'the least he could do' for Qifrey — he made it because he was hungry and wanted to eat it now! He literally admits this a few pages back!

Olruggio is not someone trying to do the bare minimum, he's someone trying to tell his control-freak of a friend that he wants to share in helping out. And the English version disappointingly misrepresents that here.

CHAPTER 10! Has several issues both Orufrey and wine related, and has several comparison segments. But because I maxed out Tumblr's 30-image limit, I can't include it here and so have to post it in a reblog. UGH. 😔

(Here is the link to the Chapter 10 comparison/discussion!)

In the meantime, image credits! The Japanese scans are from Comic-Days.com, the fan scanlations are thanks to Don't Quit Your Day Job, Robot Garden Scans, Brimhats/Nyaruhodou, and Kirbypoyopoyo, and the English version photos are from my own copy. And thank you AskeFinns for help with reading Chapter 2's kanji 💖

If chapters weren't mentioned, it's because I didn't notice anything significant enough to comment on. But if you know of something I missed, do let me know! And thanks for reading this far!

#Witch Hat Atelier #Witch Hat Atelier Kitchen #Witch Hat Kitchen #Orufrey #Olruggio #Qifrey #Kodansha USA #Jade talks WHA #my posts

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prismatic-bell · 1 year

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So @hejeksbs saw that post about fandom olds freaking out about IWTV stuff being posted on the AO3, and said they’re new to fandom and fandom culture and don’t understand. So congrats, Hejek, you’re one of today’s lucky 10,000. This is going to be a basic primer, but I encourage others to chime in with details. (Also, thanks for reminding me I need an Interview exhibit in the museum. I had that written down somewhere.)

So if you go back to the 1990s and early 2000s—the pre-AO3 digital years—you’re going to see an official disclaimer on just about every fic. These basically said “I don’t own anything here, please don’t sue me.” Some were quoted elaborate.

These started because of Anne Rice.

See, Anne Rice was, how can I say this nicely…an asshole? The day she died there were literally people posting crab rave and “Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead” from The Wizard of Oz on Tumblr. Because before Harry Potter fanfiction was pretty frowned upon and you might get a C&D if you didn’t keep your head down properly, but Anne Rice.

ANNE RICE.

Anne Rice literally recruited her “loyal fans” to harass people who made fanworks. At least one person was doxxed to her workplace by rabid Ricers, and at the time fanfiction was taboo enough you could absolutely get fired for that. I was eleven and friends with someone who was 13 who’d just read Interview and drew this wonky I-am-a-kid-who-can’t-really-draw-yet-but-I-loved-this-SO-MUCH piece of fanart of Louis and Lestat, and she literally dipped off the internet because she got an extremely nasty “I’m suing you” threat from Rice. (Are you out there, Mercury000? It’s me, sailorsharon0722.)

Anne Rice did everything in her power to ensure there was no IWTV fandom at all. I’ve heard from people older than me that she used to host a “vampire’s ball” every year in New Orleans for her “loyal fans” but if you showed up and she felt your costume outshone her own, she’d make you leave. People didn’t dare so much as put “Lestat” and “fanfiction” in the same sentence.

And then, irony of ironies, when her reputation got so bad she was struggling to sell books, she…became a Christian and started writing Bible fanfiction to sell.

Yeah.

Over the years there were claims she’d changed her mind about fanfiction, but nobody ever had evidence to back this up. I even saw a dude on Quora claiming to be a close friend of hers saying we were all lying, and he got absolutely ratioed by fans going “I still have my C&D letter, you wanna fucking try again?”

Incidentally, I would like to point out that her attitude wasn’t uniform. It’s easy to say “that’s just how it was,” but Neil Gaiman has been around since the 1980s and has always appreciated fanfiction. Stephen King’s approach is “please tell me, to my face, that me explicitly writing about Cthulhu isn’t fanfiction” and otherwise pretty lassez-faire (he has no interest in knowing you’re writing fanfiction of his stuff, he just genuinely doesn’t care), and his first book was published in the early 1970s. Gene Roddenberry, creator of Star Trek, actually accepted submissions of fanfiction scripts DURING THE SHOW’S ORIGINAL RUN, at least according to popular lore. (@dduane, can you check me on this?) Mercedes Lackey—who’s 1980s-and-1990s fantasy royalty—has been asked on Quora about why she “changed her mind about fanfiction” and her response was “I never changed my mind, I just had to talk my publisher into accepting it. I’ve always been okay with it but I had to say no because of my contract.” Sure, Diana Galbaldon was out there comparing fanfiction to rape(????), but even among those who disapproved of fanfiction, Rice’s attitude and actions were extreme. And they persisted into the 2000s, too, with her egging on fans who harassed and sent death threats to a YouTube reviewer who didn’t like one of her books.

AO3 changed ALL of that.

AO3 said “here is our well-researched legal claim that fanfiction is legal, and if someone gives you shit about works you have posted on our website, our lawyers will represent you. You can post safely here. It’s okay. We got your back.”

Even so, the fear about Anne Rice continued. And can you blame people? This woman’s name held the same power in fannish conversations as “Voldemort.” (A moniker by which I’ve actually heard her called.) She all but destroyed the old guard, on purpose.

….and then a new generation of fans happened. A new generation that didn’t remember life before AO3, had never known anyone who literally had to move house to get away from Rice’s minions’ threats and harassment. I know we use “nature is healing” as a joke on this website, but really truly, that’s what happened here. She left charred tree trunks and bushes that were old-school fans and from their ashes tiny little 2010s-fans seedlings began to grow.

The thousand-odd fics you saw in those screenshots (which I feel I should clarify are from before the new show came out—a show that must have her turning in her grave, because she was absolutely adamant that all her vampires were STRAIGHT and if you thought otherwise you were DISGUSTING, and I hope she spins so hard her corpse combusts) are absolutely shocking to us older fans because it’s like staggering out of a nuclear wasteland and spotting a little garden with signs saying “free nuclear-illness medical services” and realizing it’s real. What the fuck, what the fuck, but also, holy shit y’all we’re so proud of you. YES. Keep going. Don’t let the witch get you down.

EDIT: I’ve been informed by someone in the notes that IT ACTUALLY GETS WORSE:

I’m not going to transcribe the whole thing because I’m on mobile and most of it is just bog-standard post notes, but what’s relevant is @theoriginalvelocipastor saying “OP forgot the part where she [Anne Rice] would take ideas from fanfiction.”

Like holy motherFUCKER this woman’s hypocrisy.

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talesofadragon · 3 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬

Synopsis: Receiving wind that Hydra has successfully managed to awaken another wave of winter soldiers, Captain America appoints his two best avengers, Bucky Barnes and Y/N Y/L/N, for the job. But aside from Bucky’s trepidation at reliving his worst memories, there’s something else rooting him in his place–the fear of inflicting harm on the woman he loves the most. Between her encouraging words and his violent past, what will happen when Y/N is forced to encounter her boyfriend’s alter ego?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Warnings: Angst | Fluff

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬 Masterlist | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

“𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍, whose brilliant idea was it to hitch a ride to Antarctica at four in the morning?” Sam groaned, shooting Steve a tired side-eye. The glare would've carried more weight if Sam's eyelashes weren't so heavy he looked on the verge of collapsing into sleep right then and there.

“It’s a twenty-hour flight,” Steve stated matter-of-factly, ignoring Sam’s blatant groans.

Everyone was almost in the Quinjet, with Bruce and Clint slumped in a bunk each. By the sound of their rhythmic snores, the early mission hadn’t disturbed their sleeping schedules, and the Big Guy was too exhausted to comment about his new surroundings. Natasha was in there, too, plugging in the mission's coordinates. Needless to say, besides her and the two supersoldiers standing in the hangar, everyone else looked more than eager to go back to dreamland.

Y/N eyed Sam as he hugged his pillow tightly, using the walls to steady himself. Sam, who was this ball of infinite energy, was dozing off at the speed of light. And though he was used to waking up early and heading off for his morning lapses with Steve, the poor guy was stuck in a debrief with Nick Fury late last night and had barely managed to get some shut-eye.

“I think what Sam means is why endure a twenty-hour hassle to get to Queen Maud Land when we could’ve figured out a faster means of transportation,” Y/N interjected.

Steve raised a skeptical brow. “Like what?”

“Portalling,” she shrugged, catching Sam’s attention. “What’s the point of having friends like Dr. Strange if we don’t ask for help when we need it?”

"Because, for one, Strange is not a friend," Tony asserted, his voice carrying a hint of annoyance. He looked pristine and smelled fresh, his gym bag slung casually over his shoulders. Figures the insomniac would be the least bit aggravated at the prospect of deploying to Antarctica before even the worms were up. "And second, what makes you think he’d help us?"

“Maybe because he’s also an Avenger.”

Tony gasped aloud, his hand shooting up to cover his arc reactor. His melodrama got even Steve to roll his eyes. “Firstly, take that back. There are only six Avengers and a handful of enhanced sidekicks.”

“Excuse me?” Bucky chimed from next to Y/N.

“Seven Avengers,” Tony corrected, shooting Y/N a glance. Not even Bucky’s death glare or Sam’s scuff halted his monologue. “Anyway, back to the topic at hand. What’s bigger than Strange’s bibbidi-bobbidi arsenal is his ego—”

Natasha interceded, “Says the man who had his name plastered on a building.”

“I heard that, Jessica Rabbit.”

“As you should’ve. I’m sure,” Steve piped in.

Tony’s lips twitched in their signature way. He pushed Steve aside and entered the Quinjet, throwing his bag on one of the biggest bunks available. For a man who’s not keen on sleeping, or being accused of egotism, his behavior is quite contradictory.

“The point is, Stephen Strange’s medical license may scream, ‘I help people for a living,’ but doctors talk a big game until the hospital bill arrives.” He paused, turning his attention back to Sam and Y/N. “That’s when you realize their benevolence comes with a hefty price tag.”

"One that I'm sure you can afford because you're a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, as you oh-so-casually like to remind us all."

"Okay, weren't you sleeping?" Tony pointed an accusatory finger at Clint, who had rolled over and sassed him. Clint refrained from answering, his light snores filling the now silent area.

Sam took this as his cue to build on the previous point. "I’m with Clint on this one. Why don't you score three out of four on the Stark Personality Index and give Strange a call?"

"Why don't you channel your inner sorcerer and magically zip it? Because the less we debate, the quicker we might actually get something done," Tony rebutted. He waved his hands around, signaling for everyone to board the jet. Sam and Steve went further inside, both commenting on Tony's antics. Y/N and Bucky were the only ones who lingered in the back.

“James,” Y/N whispered, catching Bucky’s attention. His electric blue eyes held her gaze. He expected her to ask him about his well-being or point out his lack of commentary. But, to his surprise, Y/N gently took his metal hand and squeezed it. “It’s going to be just fine.”

Bucky laced their fingers together, bringing their interlocked hands to his lip and planting a soft kiss on her knuckles. Sometimes, he could’ve sworn Shuri had augmented the sensory feedback in his prosthetic. But when Y/N’s eyes twinkled as they did now, and a wave of undiluted love inundated his heart, he knew it had less to do with technology and more to do with her.

“Stick by my side,” he reminded her firmly.

Y/N’s lips twitched, the corners rising to form a smirk. “Till the end of all lines.”

Bucky broke into a chuckle, briefly shaking his head. He pulled on her hand, making her fall into step together. Though the nagging feeling in the back of his mind hadn’t dissipated, he gladly ignored it as he led Y/N to one of the bunk beds. She needed all the sleep she could get, and he needed the reminder that she was very much real and very much close.

“Avengers Assemble.”

Y/N bet Tony’s entire fortune (obviously, because he was the billionaire, not her) that Steve, along with everybody else, expected anything—literally, anything—except for Bruce to burst out laughing at this exact moment. It wasn’t even a shortle or an innocent giggle. He was doubled over, gasping for breath, one hand gripping his stomach while the other clung to a chair for support.

It was only when the entire group turned to face him that his laughter began to gradually cease. “You said Ass,” Bruce clarified sheepishly, his weariness rising now that all eyes were on him. “You know, because you’re America’s ass, and you could’ve literally said anything else, but you chose that word. Right, Tony?”

“Right,” Tony replied wryly.

It was evident that Bruce was growing increasingly uneasy. The team had reached Queen Maud Land, Antarctica, with only five minutes to spare before landing. FRIDAY was working to determine the safest landing spot, considering it was well past midnight and the relentless snowstorm showed no signs of abating.

A tingling sensation emanated from Bruce, creeping into Y/N's consciousness. Quickly, she skipped to his side, stretching out her hand. With a gentle smile and inviting eyes, she wordlessly sought Bruce's approval to make contact. As he extended his hands, Y/N eagerly accepted it. A radiant silver encircled her irises, the hue spreading through them. Likewise, her veins adopted a pale white, the color effortlessly transferring from her to Bruce. In a matter of seconds, she sensed his shoulders ease, a soothing wave of calmness enveloping him.

“Thank you,” Bruce said softly.

“Don’t mention it,” Y/N replied as her eyes reverted to their original color.

She swiftly made her way to Bucky, watching as Bruce stood taller, giving Steve his undivided attention.

"Now that we've all... assembled, for lack of a better term," Y/N giggled at Steve's joke, earning a lopsided grin. "At face value, this Hydra facility appears to be a scientific research ground. However, we know from SHIELD intelligence that it's not—particularly the East Building. It's safe to assume that both the Observatory and the Experimentation Lab may not include the soldiers we're looking for, but that doesn't exclude any relevant intel we could possibly gather.

"Sam, we'll need you to conduct a quick aerial scan. Deploy Red Wing to ensure the main entrance points are accessible and check for heat signatures to quantify the number of Hydra operatives inside. Nat and Bruce, you'll be in the Observatory. It's the smallest of the three buildings, with only one floor to cover. Sam, once you're done with your report, land in the Experimentation Lab and wait for Clint and me. Tony, you're with Bucky and Y/N in the East Building. Any questions?"

“For the record, that itself was a trick question,” Natasha noted as she double-checked her hidden weapons. The latest NSFW suits (abbreviated for “Nano Secure Field Wear,” though Tony insisted on using the acronym) made it impossible to discern the locations of her weapons. “None of you better ask a single thing because even this Russian ass is freezing and is ready to kick some butt to get warmed up a little bit.”

“Hey, I’m not one to argue when asses are involved,” Tony commented. “Let’s go, Wilson. Time is money.”

Sam rolled his eyes, lowering his night vision glasses. “Says the billionaire,” he huffed, wings at the ready.

“I heard that, Iago”

“As you should’ve. I’m sure,” Natasha sassed. Safe to say, Tony didn’t mirror everyone’s laughter.

“So, Lynx. On a scale of Africa to Antarctica, how are you two snowglobes enjoying this weather?” Tony quipped.

He was supposed to fly to the East Building, but the storm was unrelenting. Steve had asked Sam and Tony to limit their aerial assessments, not wanting to risk damage to their gear. Unfortunately, that meant Tony had to walk to the building alongside Bucky and Y/N. While this wouldn’t normally be a problem, the loud groans coming from the side painted a clear picture of Bucky’s sullen behavior. And God knew how much Tony and Bucky just loved to push each other’s buttons.

“Just because my moniker happens to be ‘Lynx’ doesn’t mean I am one, Tony,” Y/N shot back. Her eyes glinted with a hint of mischief as she gazed at him. “If we all carried the same traits as our pseudonyms, then you’d be as heavy as your ego.”

Bucky elected to laugh at this one, watching with glee as Tony made a face. Even with his suit hiding his features, it wasn’t hard to picture his reaction. “You should know better than to try and sass her.”

Tony shrugged, picking up his pace and walking just a bit ahead of the two. “Teasing your girl is my favorite pastime, Barnes. She’s a ray of sunshine when she wants to be. Too bad she’s stuck in the wrong season.”

“He can’t keep his mouth shut for thirty seconds, can he?”

Y/N giggled, shaking her head. “I’m afraid that might cause him an aneurysm, baby.”

The storm was fierce, with the wind battering them from various directions. For the most part, the trio easily navigated the road. Tony was leading them, using his altered nano blasters to inconspicuously clear the path when the snow was too thick.

And yet, while the enhanced suits blocked out the cold, they didn't imbue any of those who wore them with warmth, maintaining the body temperature at a neutral level. So, when Bucky unexpectedly felt a fiery rush glistening across his gloved hand, he immediately looked down and broke into a dulcet smile at the sight of Y/N's smaller hand in his.

“You seem lighter,” she commented.

Bucky kept his eyes on his surroundings as he responded, “Is this an attempt at praising Stark’s new suits?”

“No, silly,” she chuckled. Of course, she’d find ways to lighten his mood in these frosty conditions. “I was talking about you, not your clothes.”

“Using your abilities on me, Lynx?”

“You’d know if I was.”

It’s true, he would. Not that she had ever used them on him, anyway. It was only when he grappled with his nightmares that she did, and that was only when she had earned his explicit permission to do so.

“I’m convinced that even without your enhanced abilities, you would still be the only person able to influence my emotions.”

Y/N furrowed her brows. “What do you mean by that?” She almost missed a step when Bucky briefly chanced a glance at her. His electric blue eyes were darker, given the lack of light, but there was something else there—an emotion she had trouble deciphering. "That’s not exclusive to me. I’m not the only person who influences your mood."

Bucky smirked, his thumb drawing circles along Y/N’s gloved hand. “You are the only one that counts.”

“Do you say that to every woman you come across, Sergeant?”

“Only the ones I’d like to keep around, angel.”

Y/N playfully jabbed him in the ribs, and to his surprise, he felt it even through the layers he was wearing. Taking the light-hearted punch in stride, Bucky mock-pretended to be hurt.

“I don’t know if Tony has rubbed off on you or if it’s the other way around," Y/N lamented, her pout visible, even cuter with the cold air escaping her mouth.

“Don’t involve me in your lover’s squabble.” Speak of the devil.

Bucky had to roll his eyes at the unwanted intervention. “Overly narcissistic of you to assume you are part of the conversation, Stark.”

“Overly irresponsible to shamelessly flirt with your girlfriend before shutting off the open communication channel of your earpiece, Barnes. Judging by the flush of your cheeks, it seems that even this playboy can influence your emotions.”

It took too long for Tony to register the snowball Bucky had gathered and chucked at his face, even longer to notice Y/N’s outstretched leg before he fell face first in the snow—because the communication channel was certainly not open. Tony, as always, was just being a nosy little worm.

"Observatory sweep complete. Six targets eliminated. Uploading the recon data," Natasha informed, the audible huff in her voice coinciding with a forceful kick against a Hydra operative.

“Copy that,” Steve acknowledged. There was silence on the line, one that mirrored the noiselessness that greeted Y/N, Bucky, and Tony as soon as they entered the East Building. The three exchanged discreet glances, brandishing their weapons as they ventured deeper into the vicinity. “We’ve yet to face any resistance in the Lab. Clint found a hidden passageway on the far right, though. We’re making our way in now. Bucky, do you reckon we’ll find the soldiers there?”

“Unlikely,” Bucky answered promptly. “All prisoners are kept at sub-level units under strict observation. Unless the passageway leads you to a lower floor, you’ll most likely encounter more agents.”

“Speaking of agents. Any on your end so far?”

“None.”

“Well, looks like our luck ran out. Be careful.”

The corners of Bucky’s lips twitched as a grin began to spread on his face. “When am I not?”

With Steve’s grunts receding and the conversation dying down, Bucky and Y/N left Stark to scour the upper floor while they inspected the sub-levels. Though there was an enormous likelihood that the soldiers were situated somewhere in this area, the lack of supervision made them question whether this entire mission was either a trap or a distraction.

Bucky turned to Y/N as soon as he descended the staircase. He seemed disconcerted at the thought, while Y/N was unfazed. “They have an unknown number of active supersoldiers,” she said, graciously blending in with the shadows at the same time Bucky stuck closer to the walls. “Why would they need to have any guards surveying an area they've labeled as ‘barren’ for a reason?”

“You have a point,” Bucky acknowledged. He scanned his surroundings, locating an intersection a few steps across. “Can you feel if the soldiers are anywhere close?”

Y/N’s brows knit together in concentration. She huffed, the sound unregistered by her own ears. Bucky noticed it, though. Just like he registered her pout.

“I can’t detect any active emotions.”

“Maybe they've put them in cryo.” Bucky pondered aloud.

Y/N hummed, “Your theory stands as the most logical.” She craned her neck, attention drawn to the left path ahead. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized it. “While this entire level is brimming with a negative aura, this side seems to be the nucleus. The energy is passive at this point, but there’s a lot of emotional turbulence emanating from there.”

With a swift swipe of his hand, Bucky uncovered the gun he had hidden in his suit. He extended his right arm, quickly drawing it to the side, in front of Y/N's body, as he followed the emotional trail she had picked up.

Y/N stepped behind him. Her presence almost always went unnoticed, courtesy of her agility and capacity to blend in with her surroundings. On various missions with the Avengers, particularly with Steve and Natasha, she had been told numerous times that her sudden appearances had caught them off guard.

Knowing the same applied to Bucky, Y/N intentionally placed a heavier weight in her footsteps—not enough to alert the enemy to her presence inside the base, but enough to assure Bucky's ears that she was still behind him.

A faint static sensation tingled in Y/N and Bucky’s ears before Tony’s voice filtered in, "I won't claim it's a competition, but if it were, I'd say I've gathered the best intel in this super squad."

"Share it with us so we can award you for it, Stark," Bucky replied sarcastically.

“Six soldiers,” Tony's tone carried a certain smugness as he relayed the information. “Kept in cryostasis. They’re still being heavily monitored and undergoing extreme medical and physical examinations. Expected to be deployed into the field…”

“Watch out!” Bucky hissed, cutting Tony’s speech off.

As soon as he and Y/N had stepped into a deeper part of the facility, laser beams deployed from all around them, entrapping them.

“What’s going on?” It was Bruce who had asked, but Bucky and Y/N were too busy ducking out of the way of the lasers to answer. “Bucky? Y/N?”

Y/N surveyed her surroundings, attempting to pinpoint the source of the laser blasts. Unfortunately, the beams emerged from the walls, rendering it challenging to counteract them with bullets. Bucky rolled on the ground, the edge of his suit singed by the laser’s touch. He groaned, his eyes hastily searching for Y/N, who had pressed against one of the walls.

The only exit lay a few meters away, but there was no certainty about where that path would lead or if they could bypass the abundance of lasers to reach it. Y/N patiently waited until one of the beams prepared to shoot, analyzing its trajectory. In the split second it readied to fire, she lunged, curling her body into a ball mid-air before landing on the balls of her feet.

She repeated the process several times, closely monitoring Bucky as he fired a series of shots to dismantle the laser mechanisms. Whether it was a momentary distraction in her brain or a miscalculation on her part, an angry red beam struck her. Y/N took a deep breath, summoning all her energy to shift into her incorporeal form. To her utter disbelief, the lasers surrounding her diminished.

“James!” she shouted, earning a worried look from the super soldier. He immediately jumped to his feet and rushed to her. A forlorn shadow crossed his face when a laser beam severed his attempt. “I think these lasers are triggered by our movements.”

“So what are we supposed to do, Y/N? Stay still?” Bucky said the last part with a sneer, tired from the disadvantage.

He was surprised to see the corners of Y/N’s lips edging upward before the translucent edges around her form completely engulfed her whole. “Don’t be scared,” she had asked of him before she disappeared—the laser beams mirroring her motions.

He supposed that she was making her way toward him, if the receding beams were any indication. He felt a slight pressure on his arm before his body felt lighter as gentle silver strokes tingled across his body. When Y/N turned them both invisible, they moved together toward the end of the small hallway.

“Laser beams,” Bucky breathed out into his earpiece. He kept a firm hand on Y/N's waist as she dropped the veil that shrouded their movements. “We’re fine. Y/N got us out. Stark, what were you saying?”

“I said that the soldiers were scheduled for deployment on their first mission this month, but the specific date was not disclosed. It looks like Hydra hasn't centralized information regarding this project.”

“The information is scattered,” Bruce added. “On the servers here, Nat and I found a list of potential candidates for the 'Winter Program,' as they've named it. Clint is attempting to extract intel from the Experimentation Lab's servers.”

“How many soldiers did you mention?” Y/N asked.

Her gaze fixed on the sliding door ahead of her. Bucky followed her line of sight, peering at the seemingly deserted area. Cautiously, the two of them entered, guns drawn and ears sharp, attentive to any movement. The expansive space was filled with cryo pods, and the two rushed to inspect them.

“Six,” Tony replied.

Y/N shook her head, though only Bucky could witness the gesture. She raised her hand to her earpiece, speaking directly into the open channel, “There are seven pods. All of them are empty.”

A tense silence gripped them, not even a sigh audible through their earpieces. Bucky and Y/N instinctively positioned themselves back to back, keeping a vigilant watch for any potential threats.

Suddenly, a grunt echoed, followed by a loud crash. Without hesitation, Bucky pulled on Y/N's wrist, shielding her with his body. It wasn't until Steve's voice came through their earpieces that they realized the commotion wasn't originating from their location.

Steve sighed, "We've got a problem."

"Aside from the 'seek six, and get an extra super soldier killing machine for free'?" mocked Tony.

"Three of these Hydra operatives that ambushed us are the super soldiers," Steve explained.

Tony groaned, and the sounds of his blasters kicking off resonated in everyone's ears. It looked like he’s got company, too. "Well, that's just perfect. Not only is Hydra onto us, but winter is coming as an unwelcome bonus."

"You couldn't help it, could you?" asked Y/N.

A blast went off a second before Tony answered with a simple "No."

It appeared that Hydra had stationed their soldiers in every building. Three were already locked in a duel with Steve and the others—two now, since apparently, Clint caught one off guard with a tranquilizing arrow. Bruce and Nat were fighting two, and Tony was trapped upstairs with one.

Y/N left Bucky's side faster than he could hold her back. She heard him curse as she inspected the names on the pods. She didn't know what she was looking for, but something told her the answer would be etched on the pods. With six super soldiers combating her friends, the question remained: who was the seventh, and where were they?

The pods all bore identical markings on their plaques, each displaying a serial number designating a soldier. Y/N moved methodically down the line, disregarding Bucky's protests. As she reached the last pod on the far left, she tuned out Bucky's objections. Suddenly, she froze in a way that even Tony's cold-resistance suits hadn’t thought possible.

"James," her voice quivered as she called, the blood in her veins turning to ice. "It's a trap."

Barely having time to convey the name she saw on the seventh plaque—the moniker that Hydra had assigned him—she heard the click of a gun.

Bucky watched with horror-stricken eyes as the bullet shot at Y/N faster than he could intercept it… faster than she could dodge it.

I am so excited for the next part!! Are you ready for the winter soldier to come out and play? 🫣 Share your theories on what you think is coming next!

All-Works Taglist: @xxrougefangxx

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @ye0nvibezzn

: ̗̀➛ Read Chapter 3 - VIOLENCE - here!!

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