#we all would play with her if we were working late

[seitmai]

“Because of how you went about all of this. I know you were desperate, and I get the drive behind some of your actions now,” you said, which you refused to excuse. You got it but couldn’t excuse it. “Your response of ‘where’s the fun in that?’ when I said you couldn’t just ask me out like a normal person? You almost seemed to delight in intimidating me. Why?" If you saved his mom, why do this?

💔💔💔

“I didn’t delight in that. I played it wrong,” he admitted in a quiet voice, surprising you. “I approached it like…” “Like everything else in your life where you have everyone under your thumb through fear. You did the same thing to me.” You laughed just a little. “In a way, it worked because I’m officially afraid to try to leave you.” “I don’t want you to fear me or what we have,” he whispered, reaching for you as you scooted back.

Uff I think it's too late for that 🫣

“What we have? Tell me, do you think your mom would be proud of your actions to obtain me or ashamed?” You couldn’t believe that was the kind of man she raised, to put fear into the heart of the person he supposedly loved.

I'm sure she would not be happy

How could you truly fall in love with him when he orchestrated everything from the start? “Feelings or not you’re still going to force me to move in with you soon, and that scares me,” you said. Your wings would forever be clipped.

Like a bird in a gilded cage

“If you can cancel or reschedule it,” he replied. You stared hard at him. Where was that coming from? “No, it's tomorrow, and I’m not cancelling or rescheduling. And don’t you dare use Zemo as an excuse to get your way,” you snapped. Even if it was a valid reason, you didn’t want to hear it.

His audacity has no bounds

The blonde stared straight ahead. “That isn’t my decision,” he said apologetically. Your shoulders slumped. For a short time, you thought he could be on your side or at least help give you some slack. “Right. Because you don't get to make decisions, and neither do I. You’re a bodyguard, I’m just a doll,” you said, looking straight ahead, too, and pulling your hand back when Bucky tried to take it. “Please, don’t.”

I get her frustration...

“I’m sure I’ll take her up on that soon,” you said, turning your head to glare at Bucky. While his expression was stoic, his eyes told you he didn’t want you to be upset with him. “And make sure she adds an inconvenience fee to the damaged wall bill. She’ll know what I mean.”

A hefty one at that!

You didn't speak until Ray walked past you to get his car. “You’re trying to get me to cancel my day out with my friends, after you went through the whole charade of buying me a new dress for it and everything. And after what you told me about your mom.” You took a breath to try to calm down. “Yeah, I’m upset, and yeah, you’re supplying me with the very bricks to build that wall.”

Period!

“Because even arguing with you makes me happy,” he sincerely stated. “And now all I want to do is find a way to put a smile back on your face.”

Good god something is so wrong with his understanding of love🫣🥴

Silence filled the vehicle. “So, you know the truth,” he said after a minute, his voice neutral. “Are you okay?” “I’m trying to be,” you answered carefully. You really were. “That’s all you can do,” he said before adding under his breath, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

For real 🥴

“Too nice for someone like Bucky Barnes,” he muttered, his smile disappearing completely.

👀

“Wait, you’re already home?” he asked. The background noise suddenly stopped. “Did you get a cab? Please tell me you didn’t walk back to your place.” “…Fine, I won’t tell you that.”

Hahah the perfect answer

“I’ll…” you began, steadying yourself. Natasha said you had power, and maybe you’d have to test that sooner than you expected. “Stay at your place tonight .”You could hear a pin drop from the quiet. “You’ll stay the night?” he asked, his voice moving like lava through your veinspp. “Yes,” you whispered, hammering the nail in the coffin.

At what cost 😬

Hold You Tight: Part 16

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 15 | Series Masterlist | Part 17

Chapter Word Count: Over 5.4k

Chapter Summary: Bucky tries to pull you closer when you want to pull away, and someone else in your life my not take no for an answer.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, arguing, tension, slight harassment, kissing, reference to stalking, inner turmoil, manipulation, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky traded lazy kisses with you as your tears slowed, and you had no idea if it was his mouth that had your heart pounding and the crushing weight of everything that surrounded him. It was so much to unpack. Every encounter with him seemed to be that way. Something blindsided you or suffocated you, but you hadn't been at all prepared for what he just shared. And how could you? He didn't keep photos of his mother around, and you hadn't gone poking around online.

Would you have found out the truth if you had?

He followed your lips when you pulled away. “It’s okay,” he whispered, pulling you back in.

It wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. Though it partially made sense now why he was moving so fast. He believed if he met you then that you would've fallen in love and been together to this day. Because he didn't seek you out then and lost so much time, he was packing everything into a rushed time span. Dating, meeting his friends, getting you into his place. He was moving things along at an accelerated speed, and you were barely keeping up with the ride.

“No.” The muffled word against his lips somehow rang out loud and clear enough for him to stop, but you put a hand on his chest in case he tried to lean in again. “Why are you punishing me?”

His eyes rounded. “You think I’m punishing you? Jesus, why would you think that?”

“Because of how you went about all of this. I know you were desperate, and I get the drive behind some of your actions now,” you said, which you refused to excuse. You got it but couldn’t excuse it. “Your response of ‘where’s the fun in that?’ when I said you couldn’t just ask me out like a normal person? You almost seemed to delight in intimidating me. Why?”

If you saved his mom, why do this?

“I didn’t delight in that. I played it wrong,” he admitted in a quiet voice, surprising you. “I approached it like…”

“Like everything else in your life where you have everyone under your thumb through fear. You did the same thing to me.” You laughed just a little. “In a way, it worked because I’m officially afraid to try to leave you.”

Had things blossomed between you two organically, you’d like to believe that things would’ve been better. Healthy. There was always the chance that a relationship might’ve come to an end because life was like that. But if he frightened you enough to stay forever, he’d never have to worry. The stars would still align as far as he was concerned.

“I don’t want you to fear me or what we have,” he whispered, reaching for you as you scooted back.

“What we have? Tell me, do you think your mom would be proud of your actions to obtain me or ashamed?” You couldn’t believe that was the kind of man she raised, to put fear into the heart of the person he supposedly loved.

He flinched. Actually flinched. You might as well have raised a hand to him. “She…” He swallowed. “She would’ve wanted us together.”

“Like this? By you not giving me a choice?” you asked, pushing yourself up. “I need to go home.” There would be no getting through to him and this revelation was doing your head in. One cup of coffee wasn't enough either.

He got up to follow you. “Why are you rushing off?”

“I have a shift today, and I have to go home and shower,” you said, grabbing some of your things. “Don’t worry about dropping me off. I’ll get a cab.”

“What? No, you-”

“You put money in my account, so it’s not like I have to worry about paying for it. And it’s not like I’ll be alone either since you’ll have me followed whether I want it or not,” you said as a matter of fact.

“You’re putting a wall up,” he said, frowning as you grabbed your phone charger before he could. “Don’t shut me out, please.”

“I’m not shutting you out. I’m trying to process the gigantic bombshell you dropped on me,” you said, stopping to look at him when he grabbed your arm. “Bucky-”

“This has been a lot, all of it, but we can’t go back and change it, and you know I can’t let you go because we’re meant to be together,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “You feel it. I know you do.”

How many times would he say that until you agreed? “Just because you think fate stepped in-”

“Fate brought you into my club, but I gave it a much-needed push to bring us together after leaving things to chance for so long,” he said, tugging you closer and putting his other hand on your cheek. “You can’t tell me you don’t care about me in some capacity. You’re just afraid to admit it because it isn’t conventional in your eyes, but you don’t have to be afraid of how you feel.”

How could you truly fall in love with him when he orchestrated everything from the start? “Feelings or not you’re still going to force me to move in with you soon, and that scares me,” you said. Your wings would forever be clipped.

“We should’ve been living together and married by now,” he argued, keeping a tight hold on you. “I know I’m making you move in sooner than you want, but beyond safety it’ll give us a chance to really know each other before we get married.”

Talk of marriage had your heart thudding. The man would probably force you to marry him sooner than you wanted. “You said you already know everything about me,” you said. At least he thought he knew you. The vision of you he built up in his mind scared you, too. He couldn’t keep you on that pedestal.

“But you don’t fully know me yet, and I don’t know what it’s like to live with you. The experience will bring us closer together.” His smile was full of hope. “We can read together, do movie nights, dance in the kitchen.”

“Bucky-”

“We can exercise together, in and out of bed,” he continued, your breath hitching as he rubbed his nose against yours. “Don’t you already feel closer to me now that you know we're meant to be?”

A quick knock on the door followed by a long one saved you from answering. “It isn't check-out time, is it?”

“No. That would be Ray,” Bucky headed to the door and kept you back a small distance before he answered. The man really was protective, wasn't he?

“I’m sorry to intrude,” Ray said, giving you a polite nod before he leaned in and whispered something to Bucky. Whatever was said to him made his face harden. The entire change in his demeanor worried you.

“Kotyonok, let’s get your bag and get you back to your place so you can get ready for work,” he suggested, his smile tight.

“What’s the matter?” you asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” he answered, kissing your forehead. “And before we go, I know you suggested taking a cab, but please let Ray take you back to your place. It would make me feel better.”

The hint of a plea in his voice and the look in Ray’s eyes kept you from protesting. “Fine, Ray can take me home. Just give me a second to change out of these pajamas,” you said, a bit surprised that Bucky wasn’t offering to take you home himself. “But you are going to tell me later what’s going on, right?” you asked.

“I will, but I need some answers myself first. Get changed. I’ll get your bag,” he said, gently guiding you to the bathroom so you could change and officially ending that conversation.

Ray was still by the entry door once you came out, looking a bit stiffer than usual, too. You stole a glance at Bucky as the three of you headed to the elevator, catching the anger etched in his features as he gripped your bag handle tight enough that you thought it would rip. They were leaving you in the dark about something. You weren’t sure if you could take any other bombshells.

“Ray may need to pick you up from work instead of me, but I’ll message you if that’s the case,” Bucky said, fixing his hair in the elevator reflection. “And… we may need to talk about your girls’ day out.”

“What about it?” you asked, already knowing where he was going with this.

“If you can cancel or reschedule it,” he replied.

You stared hard at him. Where was that coming from? “No, it's tomorrow, and I’m not cancelling or rescheduling. And don’t you dare use Zemo as an excuse to get your way,” you snapped. Even if it was a valid reason, you didn’t want to hear it.

His jaw clenched, but he looked sad as he glanced at you. “I just don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“We talked about this. If it’s a safety issue, Ray agreed that someone could watch out for me. That should keep me safe,” you reminded him. You’d be fine. “Right, Ray?”

The blonde stared straight ahead. “That isn’t my decision,” he said apologetically.

Your shoulders slumped. For a short time, you thought he could be on your side or at least help give you some slack. “Right. Because you don't get to make decisions, and neither do I. You’re a bodyguard, I’m just a doll,” you said, looking straight ahead, too, and pulling your hand back when Bucky tried to take it. “Please, don’t.”

“Kotyonok…” Bucky sighed as the door opened. You marched out, not waiting for either of them. “Wait.”

You headed straight for the desk, feeling sadder when you didn’t see Natasha. “Checking out, please,” you said, sliding the room card over to the woman standing there.

“Of course. I hope you enjoyed your stay.” She looked behind you likely at Bucky before giving you a smile. “Ms. Romanoff also wanted to remind you that you have a place here if you need one.”

“I’m sure I’ll take her up on that soon,” you said, turning your head to glare at Bucky. While his expression was stoic, his eyes told you he didn’t want you to be upset with him. “And make sure she adds an inconvenience fee to the damaged wall bill. She’ll know what I mean.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” she smiled. “Take care.”

Bucky was hot on your heel and you didn't make it two steps out the door before he had a hand on you. “You’re upset with me. Putting up more of that wall.”

You didn't speak until Ray walked past you to get his car. “You’re trying to get me to cancel my day out with my friends, after you went through the whole charade of buying me a new dress for it and everything. And after what you told me about your mom.” You took a breath to try to calm down. “Yeah, I’m upset, and yeah, you’re supplying me with the very bricks to build that wall.”

“I said we may need to talk about it, I didn’t flat out say you weren’t going,” he corrected you. He might as well have. “I know it means a lot to you, but-”

You held a hand up. “No. There are no ��buts’ in this. For all you keep taking from me, I don’t ask for much. I really don't,” you stated. In fact, you’ve shown lots of restraint. “Who knows how many moments I’ll get like this with my friends once you move me in.” He wasn’t about to take this small thing from you after everything.

He titled his head. “You think I’ll keep you from them?”

“Part of me thinks you will, yes. Because as soon as I think that there’s hope, the second I think that we could be closer together while you loosen the reins, you say or do something that puts me back in your full control,” you said. He had to see that. “And every time you do that, like you are right now, it makes me want to push you away.”

“And you can push all you want, but I’ll just pull you closer,” he smiled, making you huff when he actually did so. “I’m not afraid to let you burn me.”

“You keep saying that. Give me a match or a lighter and we’ll test that theory,” you said. He burst out laughing, the sound loud in the morning air as your eyes widened. “Why are you laughing?” you asked incredulously. How could he laugh when you were still worked up?

“Because even arguing with you makes me happy,” he sincerely stated. “And now all I want to do is find a way to put a smile back on your face.”

You exhaled. He was so in love with the idea of a relationship with you that arguments appealed to him? Anyone else would've walked away by now.

“You’re infuriating,” you whispered when he touched the corner of your mouth and made it twitch in a small smile. “Impossible.”

“I know,” he whispered back, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, you’re tired and you’re overwhelmed, which is completely my fault. Am I right?”

“Yes,” you sighed. He hit it right on the nose.

“And maybe I was rash in suggesting that you cancel your plans, but I need to take care of a couple things before we discuss that more,” he said, leading you to Ray's car before you could protest. “You just have a good shift, okay?”

He was placating you now, and it was sadly working. “Fine,” you said, touching his hand, the metal one. “I don’t think I said so earlier, but thank you for finally telling me the truth,” you said, calmer than you were moments before. He should've told you from the start, but it couldn't have been easy reopening old wounds regarding his dad.

His gaze softened. “Thank you for letting me.”

“And whatever Ray told you or whatever’s going on, just breathe, okay?” you begged.

He took a deep breath. “I’ll just think of you and it’ll help,” he said, adding in a low voice as he pulled you against him. “And this.”

This was nothing like the slow, languid kisses from minutes ago. This was dominant, claiming, threatening to rob you of the air in your lungs, like he wanted you to feed your own breath into him. He either forgot Ray was there, or he simply didn’t care.

By the time Bucky stopped kissing you and helped you into the car, you didn’t want to look either of them in the eye.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing your temple and shutting the door as your heart flip flopped. God, he was insufferable. Confusing. Obsessed.

“You're certainly keeping him on his toes,” Ray said, not driving off until he made sure Bucky was in his vehicle, too.

“Someone has to,” you said, staring out the window. “I’m going with my friends tomorrow. I don't care if he makes you drag me back,” you said. Unless your life was in some sort of immediate danger, there was no reason for you to skip out on meeting up with the girls.

“So you’re aware, the suggestion of you moving your day out has nothing to do with wanting to control you. He’s upset because of the news I delivered and he wants to keep you close,” Ray explained, making you feel a little bad.

“So, that news was the reason why you both changed your tune, and you can't tell me what that news is,” you guessed. If you were in some sort of danger though, surely Bucky would’ve said so. “He told me about his mom. How I saved her.”

Silence filled the vehicle. “So, you know the truth,” he said after a minute, his voice neutral. “Are you okay?”

“I’m trying to be,” you answered carefully. You really were.

“That’s all you can do,” he said before adding under his breath, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

You snorted. “I guess I'm living breathing proof of that.” It was ironic how an act of kindness put you on this path. “And as much as I don't like to wish pain upon people, I hope Bucky's dad got whatever he deserved.”

Winnie, from the short time you knew her, was nothing but wonderful. Bucky said the dahlia painting in his office served as a reminder that he would never do to you what his dad did to his mom. He would never set you up to take the fall for anyone else, wouldn’t let someone else hurt you if he could help it. He would forever stand by you.

Was pushing him away doing you any good?

“He did,” Ray promised you. “And I say with complete sincerity that I hope today is very uneventful for you after the time you've had.”

Your nose scrunched as you laughed. “So do I, Ray. So do I.”

Ray was kind enough to wait outside of your place as you showered and got ready for work, and didn't push you to talk more before he dropped you off at the shop. He was even kind enough to stop so you could get another cup of coffee. It helped improve your mood.

“There she is!” Kate smiled when you walked in. “Little miss not-so-single anymore.”

“Hey,” you giggled before you paused. “I didn't know you were working today. Did you switch shifts with someone?”

“God, the schedule’s all messed up. Mrs. Crandle called out for some business thing-”

“Business thing?” you asked, your brows pinched. She hardly ever took time off for things like vacation let alone a business thing without informing her staff.

“Yeah, I’m not really sure about all the details, but Lorraine ended up switching the whole schedule around. Mya’s coming in later, and I had to come in early, and your shift’s ending early.”

“What?” you frowned, checking the schedule to make sure. She was right. Your shift today was almost cut in half. “Would’ve been nice to get a text or something.”

The assistant manager wasn't bad to work with, but she could be a little forgetful with things like that. If Bucky hadn't just put money in your account, you may have been more upset over having half a shift cut. After the night and morning you had though, maybe an afternoon off wouldn't be so bad.

“She probably forgot since you were coming in at your normal time. Who knows?” Kate shrugged. “You know, I half expected Clark to be here waiting for you. Seemed really eager to see you yesterday.”

“Yeah, about that.” You looked toward the door, your body tense in anticipation even though he wasn't there. “Why did you tell him I was working today?”

“He’s kind of a regular, and I didn't really think about it. Then Mrs. Crandle brought up your boyfriend and…” Her face fell as she stopped cutting stems, which made you feel bad when she glanced your way. “Crap, I did something wrong, didn't I?”

You weren’t about to go into specifics regarding your personal situation. “I just don’t want customers to know when my shifts are unless I’m specifically working on an order or event for them, okay?” you said, hoping she understood that it was a general request.

Bucky was not getting in your head about your safety.

“Okay, as long as you aren’t mad,” she said. You gave her a smile to assure her that you were okay. “So, tell me about your new boyfriend.”

You filled her in as much as you could to make it sound believable, just like you had with Addison. Like her and Mrs. Crandle, Kate was excited for you. And they would never know the full truth.

As your shift went on, you were surprised you hadn't heard much from Bucky. It was for the best though. He was clearly dealing with something. As much as you didn't want to defend him in your mind, it had taken a lot for him to talk about his parents. To show you some of the damage done to his body. It was a vulnerable moment. Did you owe it to him to be vulnerable, too?

Wait, why did you owe him anything?

“Heading out?” Kate asked once your shift was up.

“Yeah,” you replied, glancing at your phone. You wondered if you should text Bucky before you decided against it. You'd let him know once you got to your place that you wouldn't need a ride. “Just call me if you need me to come back in.”

“Don’t worry about that. Enjoy the rest of your day!” she smiled.

Satisfied when you didn't see Bucky or Ray’s car waiting for you either, you decided to take a walk. It was a nice day, and you needed the fresh air. You hoped the weather was nice for the winery. You’d have to take photos to look back on what was going to be a fun time.

“Hey!” you heard someone shout after a few minutes of walking.

You stopped when you spotted Clark waving at you from the other side of the street. You barely waved back before he joined you. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was just in the neighborhood,” he smiled, pushing his glasses up. “You done working already?”

“Yep,” you said, adjusting your bag. “And I should really-”

“Could we talk for a minute?” he asked.

You hesitated before nodding. “Sure,” you said, falling in step beside him.

“You know, I actually went to the shop to buy you flowers yesterday. I was going to buy you some roses,” he smiled.

Oh, God. “You were?”

“Yeah, but you weren’t there and… It doesn’t matter,” he smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But I was thinking… Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime? My treat.”

The hopeful look in his eyes made a pit form in your stomach. “Clark, I’m seeing someone,” you said, his blue eyes dimming. Hadn’t Kate said that Mrs. Crandle brought up that you were in a relationship? “It’s fairly new, and I don’t want to mess things up,” you explained, though he wasn’t owed an explanation.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” he mumbled, kicking a small rock on the sidewalk. “Well, if it’s fairly new, I'm sure you can get coffee with other people.”

“Get coffee with people? Yes. But this kind of sounds like a date, and I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m sorry,” you said. That would feel like cheating even if you didn't consider it a date, and you weren't that kind of person.

“Then we won’t call it a date,” he grinned.

Maybe you were feeling paranoid, but there was something weird behind his smile. “You just got out of a relationship, and I don’t want to send mixed signals by agreeing to go with you.”

His smile shook a bit. “It's just a coffee.”

“Is it?” The longer he stared, the more odd things felt, and you didn’t like it. “Listen, when you find someone else to give flowers to I’d be happy to pick some out for you.”

“I don't understand.” He laughed, but it sounded bitter. “You’ve always been nice to me.”

“Well, yeah. You’ve always been kind, too, when you come into the shop.”

“Too nice for someone like Bucky Barnes,” he muttered, his smile disappearing completely.

You gaped at him, almost faltering in your step. “What did you just say?”

“I said you’re too nice for someone like Bucky Barnes,” he said louder, his ire clear as day. “You think I don’t know about his reputation? He’s dangerous, and you’re too good for him.”

“How do you know I’m dating him?” you asked. And what did he know about his reputation?

He was quiet for a moment. “Mrs. Crandle said his name, and she has no idea what kind of man he is,” he said, making you feel uneasy. “I don’t think you do either.”

Oh, you knew plenty. “I appreciate your concern, really, but it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Well, I do. And I just don’t see why we can’t have one cup of coffee together,” he said, flashing a smile again. “It’ll be fun.”

“Because you know I’m seeing someone,” you said. He knew it before he bumped into you, but was still pushing for you to go with him. “And I also kind of make it a rule not to date customers,” you added, stopping when you got to your building. You walked faster than you thought.

“Well, rules should have exceptions, right? And if Bucky cared so much, where is he? Why wasn’t he waiting to pick you up and take you home?” he pressed, his eyes narrowing when you dug into your purse. “Maybe he doesn’t care about you as much as you think.”

Your next breath came out shaky. He hadn’t raised his voice at you, but you didn’t appreciate the third degree, or the implication that Bucky didn’t care. “Because he’s a busy man who sometimes works both days and nights. I don’t expect him to drop everything just to take me home.”

“If you took a chance on me, you’d never have to worry about things like that.”

You were starting to feel nauseous. “Well, sometimes I like the quiet after the bustle of the shop, so walking helps me decompress. And I can't take a chance on you when I’m seeing someone else.” Why was he being so pushy?

He took a small step closer. “You know, it’s dangerous to walk home alone.”

You took a step back, your keys between your fingers. “You’re right about that,” you agreed. The only reason you did so today was to take back a little control, which didn’t seem so smart now.

“I can start walking you home if you want,” he smiled, towering over you. Was he always so imposing? “When’s your next shift?”

You managed a smile in return, but it was extremely forced. “Clark, that’s really not necessary, but thank you for the offer. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

He gently took your arm when you turned toward the door, worry crawling up your spine when his hand tightened a fraction. You suddenly wish you had Bucky or Ray around. “I really don’t mind.”

“My boyfriend will mind, and I’m sure you can understand that. So it’s a no on the coffee and the walks home,” you said gently but firmly, pulling your arm back and rubbing the spot where Clark grabbed you. He wasn’t listening. It somehow felt worse than Bucky and you couldn’t pinpoint why. Was it because Clark tried to act nice? “It’s been a long few days, and I’m going to get some rest. Have a nice day, okay?”

His eyes narrowed again, but it was his chilling smile that unnerved you. “I’m sure I'll see you again soon. We’ll have to get that coffee,” he said, walking off before you could say another word.

You rushed into the building once he was out of sight, your hands shaking. It may have been from the confrontation or the combination of everything. Maybe Clark was just lonely and latched on a bit because you were nice. Hadn't Bucky done something similar?

But if Clark wanted to see you, why hadn't he just gone into the shop if he knew you were working?

Double checking your locks once you were in your apartment, you took a breath and stared at your phone once you sat down. You had to talk to Bucky. He answered within a few seconds of you calling.

“Kotyonok, is everything okay?” he asked, sounding both happy and concerned to hear from you.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” you asked, hearing a few other men speaking in the background.

“Because you’re calling me and not texting. And you sound a little off. What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s fine,” you lied. How did he recognize that you felt off? “I just wanted you to know that the assistant manager changed my shift, so I went home early.”

“Wait, you’re already home?” he asked. The background noise suddenly stopped. “Did you get a cab? Please tell me you didn’t walk back to your place.”

“…Fine, I won’t tell you that.”

Bucky let out an impressive string of curse words as you pulled the phone away from your ear. “That’s not safe. You know it isn’t,” he hissed, but you knew he wasn’t actually angry with you. Just the situation. And bumping into Clark today and Zemo the day before, he had a bit of a point. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Because I said it may not be a good idea to go out with your friends.”

You closed your eyes. He was not going to make you feel bad. “I just needed a breather, okay? And I made it home just fine.”

“But did you? How do I know someone didn’t follow you?” he asked. Clark’s face flashed in your mind when you stayed quiet. “…Kotyonok, did someone follow you?”

“No one followed me that I know of,” you said. You really didn't have any idea. “But… I did bump into Clark. He was in the neighborhood.”

“Clark? That guy from the shop who tried to give you flowers just happened to be in your neighborhood when I wasn't around?” he asked, fury seeping into his tone as you winced.

“I… I’m sure it was a coincidence,” you said. Placating him in this wasn’t going to work, but you had to try.

“That isn’t a fucking coincidence and we both know it. Did he say anything? Try anything?”

You shut your eyes. It would be like ripping off a band-aid. “He asked me to go get a cup of coffee with him, but I told him I was seeing someone.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “He asked you out?” he asked, making you shift in your seat. “Why the fuck do I not have a file on him yet?!” he snapped at someone in the background.

“I’m working on it, boss!” you heard someone promise. “Should I call-”

“No. I’ll call him myself,” Bucky growled.

Who was he talking about? “Bucky, it’s okay. The guy asked me out and I said no,” you assured him. You weren't going to go out with Clark. “I’m sure women throw themselves at you every day and you turn them down.”

“They don't ‘bump’ into me in my neighborhood. And had you told me you were leaving early, I could’ve made sure this guy didn’t go anywhere near you. I don’t even want him near your shop until I know more about him,” he said, his anger not lessening. “If he tries anything, I will tear him apart piece by fucking piece,” he promised you, the intensity in his tone making your throat go dry.

“That isn’t necessary,” you whispered.

He sighed. “Why would you deliberately put yourself in a spot like this just to prove a point? Be pissed at me, I can take that, but do not risk your safety,” he said, adding in a quieter voice, “I couldn’t take it if something happened to you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hating how guilty you felt, how worried he sounded on your behalf. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to worry you,” you said. It was stubborn and dumb on your part, and now you were afraid that Bucky really would try to cancel your day out tomorrow. You couldn’t let him. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“Make it up to me?” he asked. That seemed to get his attention. “How are you going to do that?”

“I’ll…” you began, steadying yourself. Natasha said you had power, and maybe you’d have to test that sooner than you expected. “Stay at your place tonight.”

You could hear a pin drop from the quiet. “You’ll stay the night?” he asked, his voice moving like lava through your veins.

“Yes,” you whispered, hammering the nail in the coffin.

“Give me two hours and I'll come get you,” he said, his voice strained, eager. “Be ready.”

“I will be.”

God, you hoped you knew what you were doing.

Oh, Clark. He's a problem now, isn't he? What do we think Ray told Bucky? And what's going to happen when you spend the night? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[peepawispunk]

Study Sessions

Pairing: Reed Richards x You

Summary: Your grades are slipping, but Reed thinks he knows the solution.

Warnings/tags: Coercion, student x teacher relationship, dubcon but you want it, creepy behaviour, power dynamics, Reed is a bit of a dick, manipulation, voyeurism, cock warming, deepthroating, throat bulge, penis size play ie Reed is a stretchy dude, deep fucking, belly bulge, oral sex, squirting, Reed typical superpowers, noncon elements, age gap

Word count: 3.3K

My masterlist

My AO3

This isn't the first time Professor Richards has asked you to stay back after class.

It is the first time he's locked the door though.

He flicked the lock shut after the last student out was halfway down the hall, rolling his sleeves up as he crossed the room to his desk, sitting in his chair and gesturing for you to sit opposite. His hand came up to his chin, rubbing at the stubble there. He looked deep in thought, and your curiosity spiked.

“Professor Richards? Is something wrong?”

“I've noticed your grades have been slipping lately. What's going on? Is there a problem at home?”

He was right; your GPA had slipped this year. It had little to do with the course content and everything to do with the fact that last year, your teacher was an old unattractive man. This year was the first year you'd had Professor Richards as your teacher. He made it difficult to focus on the coursework.

You flushed, embarrassed that your crush on him had gone so out of control that he'd noticed your slipping grades. “No, Professor. Nothing is wrong at home.”

“Is it the course content, then? Is there something I can help you with?” He looked at you with concern, eyes kind and understanding.

You hesitated. Professor Richards stood, rounding the desk to lean against it, next to you.

“I'm here to help, and I want you to succeed. If there's anything I can do to help you, I want you to tell me. You're going into astrophysics, right?”

“You remembered that?” You asked, surprised. On the first day of class, Professor Richards had you all stand up and introduce yourself and talk a bit about your career goals. You hadn’t thought he'd been paying attention.

“Of course. Like I said, I want my students to succeed. I want you to succeed. I see something special in you, and I'd hate to see this opportunity slip through your fingers if I could help you.”

“Wow, I don't know what to say. I feel even worse now for letting my grades slip.” Your gaze settled on the floor, focusing on a knot in the wooden flooring.

“Hey,” he said softly, urging you to look at him. “Tell me what's going on.”

“I've just been a little distracted in class. I swear nothing is going on. I'm just having trouble staying focused during lectures.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, watching you with perceptive eyes as you felt skin heat at the scrutiny. “Perhaps what you need are some one on one intensive lessons.”

“You'd do that for me? I know you're a busy man. I don't want to create more work for you.”

“Hey, it's my job to give my students what they need. I'm sure we could work something out.” Professor Richards said, resting a hand on your knee and squeezing gently. “Would you like that?”

Your cunt clenched involuntarily, the heat of his hand resting on your knee sparking a fire in your belly. Was he insinuating…? Why else would he put his hand on your knee like this?

“Oh.” You were at a loss for words. “Um...”

He tilted his head to the side slowly, sliding his hand up your leg a little, his thumb rubbing circles on your inner thigh. “You're a smart girl, aren't you sweetheart? A good girl, who cares about her grades.”

Oh. Holy shit. You'd fantasised about this man for months on end, to the point your grades were slipping, and he wanted to help you with your grades in return for sex?

A no-brainer if you'd ever seen one.

“Yes, Professor.” You nodded demurely. He obviously got off on the power play of this scenario, so you'd play along. You were a smart girl, after all. You shifted your legs slightly, parting your thighs under your pencil skirt. “I care.”

“Knew you were a clever girl.” He smiled, sliding his hand higher, fingers skirting against the gusset of your panties. “Huh. You want this, don't you?” He pressed down with nimble fingertips, stroking your seam through the damp fabric. “Yeah, you want this.”

You nodded.

“I want you. Been so distracted by you, professor. But what about your wife?”

He chuckled darkly. “Believe me, my wife gets as much out of this as I do.” His gaze flicked across the room for a moment, before returning to your face, watching your reaction as he slipped a finger underneath the fabric of your panties, brushing against the slick wetness of your lips. “Oh she's weeping for it, isn't she?” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “How long since someone's taken care of this pretty little pussy?”

“Uh,” you tried to think, as his fingers gently stroked the shape of your lips, spreading the slick around inside your panties. “A-almost a year.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Well no wonder you're so distracted in class, huh sweetheart? Gotta take care of this pretty pussy. She's meant to be stuffed full. I bet if we take care of her, we can get you paying attention in class again. Think she's gonna need weekly appointments.”

“Weekly?” Your voice betrayed your interest.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Are you ready to commit to your education?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“While we're doing these tutoring sessions, you can call me Reed. Or Sir.” He said with a wink, withdrawing his hand from your panties and bringing it to his mouth. “Mmm, you taste so good, sweet girl. Are you ready for our first lesson?”

“Yes Sir.”

He smiled, loosening his tie. “Good girl. Go ahead and strip off for me. Don't go making a mess, though. I expect your clothes to be folded neatly and placed on your chair when our lessons begin. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” You said, fingers trembling a little with excitement as arousal flared through you, and you began to undress. His gaze never left your body, heating your skin as he watched you strip, folding your clothes and placing them on your chair. Then, you were standing bare in front of him, waiting for his next instruction.

“Get on your knees.” He said, reaching down to palm himself through his slacks.

Your head was spinning with arousal as you followed his order, kneeling in front of him. You were scant inches away from his crotch, you could practically smell the musky scent of his arousal through the fabric. The bulge was impressive, the bulk of his length sitting to the left side of the zipper, resting against his leg.

“What now?” You asked softly, and he braced his hands against the desk behind him, shifting his hips closer to you.

“You're a smart girl, aren't you? How about you take some initiative.”

Your unsteady hands came up to his waistband, flicking open the button of his slacks and lowering the zipper. To your surprise, he'd foregone underwear, and you could see the leaking tip of his cock drooling a wet spot onto the black fabric. Your hand was immediately drawn to it, swiping a finger through it and bringing it to your mouth. He groaned, and you looked up at him through your lashes, pulling his slacks down til they pooled at his ankles.

“Oh, you're a naughty fucking girl too, huh?” He looked down at you, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Look at you, on your knees for a married man.”

Hot shame and arousal washed over you, and you wanted nothing more than to shut him up; to change his scathing words into moans and whimpers. You looked him in the eye, licked your palm and took him in your hand.

He felt like velvet wrapped steel in your hand, his uncut dick flushed a pretty pink, his foreskin sliding with a slick noise as you jerked him a few times before bringing the tip to your mouth. You wrapped your lips around the head, swirling and slurping, tongueing the slit as you shifted yourself closer, resting your palm on his bare thigh. He was deceptively muscular, you noticed, feeling the bulk of him under your hand.

“Look at you, kissing on him like that.” He breathed, bringing his hand to grip your head, winding through your hair. “He’s feeling real cold. How about you warm him up for me, hmm?”

The thumb of his other hand rested on your lower lip, encouraging you to open your mouth wide as he fed you his cock. It felt like he kept going and going further into your throat, but your mouth hadn’t yet reached the base of him.

He must’ve noticed your confusion, and he hummed sympathetically. “Oh yeah, he’s a grower, baby. Let’s see how much you can handle. You gonna take what I give you?”

You hummed in assent, nodding as best as you could.

“Atta girl.” He grinned, thickening in your throat. “You tap my leg if you need to stop.” He told you, elongating one arm so he could feel you, thumb rolling your nipple as his fingers stretched down to toy with your cunt.

You moaned around him, reedy and desperate as he used his abilities to tease you. You’d seen him use his abilities occasionally, reaching to write on the far end of the blackboard, or stretching to reach something out of reach. You’d imagined how he might use them in the bedroom, and so far, the reality was surpassing your expectations.

“Sit still for me now. There you go.” He said gently, caressing your face. “You’re gonna keep him nice and warm while I read these papers. If you behave, I’ll fuck you after.”

He didn’t even wait for your response, picking up the essay on his desk and reading it, his other hand still teasing you. When he slipped a finger inside you, you moaned, shifting a little.

“Be still.” He reminded you disapprovingly, not even looking up from his reading. “You want this cock inside you, you have to earn it. I don’t go giving just anyone a ride, sweetheart.”

He was deliberately making it hard for you to stay still, and you both knew it. Still, you made an effort to be completely still. Your throat bulged with the size of him; he’d left just enough room for oxygen to pass through, so he could sit heavy inside the wet heat of your throat until he was ready to leave. You thanked the universe for your lack of a gag reflex; you needed that special skill now more than ever.

Time seemed to fade as you knelt in front of him silently, under the onslaught of his wandering fingers. You slipped into a relaxed state as best you could. It would have been almost meditative if you weren’t being teased by nimble fingers massaging your g spot, stretching and pushing in all the right spots to make you see stars.

Reed finally finished his reading, withdrawing his fingers from you. His arm shrunk back to normal, and he brought his fingers to his mouth. “Mmm, so fucking sweet. Looks like even naughty girls can be good with the right incentive.” He set the paper down on the desk, reaching down to give you a hand up as he shrunk himself back to normal, pulling out of your mouth. You noted that even back to normal, he was above average.

He winced sympathetically when he saw your knees, flattened and unhappy from kneeling for so long. “Aww, sweetheart. Hop up on the desk. Let me kiss them better.”

He helped you settle onto his desk, bending to kiss your left knee. His whiskery facial hair tickled you as he pressed a gentle kiss to the tender skin there, then the other, before focusing his eyes on your glistening cunt.

“Look at you. So fucking wet.” He inhaled deeply, trailing his nose up your thigh. “I need to have a proper taste.”

“Fuck, please, I need to come.” You begged, letting your legs fall open further.

“Oh, baby, no. I never said anything about making you come. You gotta earn that, too.”

“How? What do you want me to do?” You asked desperately, watching his slow journey to your pussy.

“You can start by playing with those pretty tits of yours while I have a taste.” He commanded, watching with darkened eyes as you did what he asked, cupping yourself and rolling your nipples, eliciting a gasp from your throat. He nodded once, approvingly, bringing his thumbs to your cunt lips to spread it nice and wide so he could get a proper look at you. His nose led the way, delving into your folds and smearing the slick around, dragging it up to your clit, nuzzling into the swollen peak of flesh there and making you moan.

“Not too loud, sweetheart. Don’t want everyone to know you’re fucking your professor, do we?”

You pant out an apology, but his focus is already elsewhere, his tongue licking a broad, flat stripe up your cunt. You moan again, softer, and he chuckles. “Can’t help it, can you? So responsive, and it’s been so long. You need something in that mouth?”

You nod, and quick as anything, he has two fingers pressing down on your tongue, ordering you to suck.

Satisfied with your noise level now, he starts eating your cunt in earnest, showing you the off-label uses of his abilities. His tongue, now buried in you elongated and focused an attack on your g spot, pressing and twisting and curling against you in a way that had you throwing your head back, arching your back and doing everything in your power not to bite his fingers.

He licked the nectar from your walls, chasing the flavour of you until your cunt was soaked with your slick and his saliva, bringing you to the edge of the desk with one strong hand.

You were impossibly close when he stopped, his tongue returning to normal. He pressed a final kiss to your clit, before leaning over you on the desk, guiding himself to your entrance.

“Ready?” He asked, sliding his tip through your slick, nudging your clit and making you gasp. You nodded, and he pushed inside you, fully seating himself, his balls hitting your ass. “Took me so well, baby. Are you ready for more?” He raised an eyebrow, and you nodded desperately. You weren’t sure how much you could take, but you’d give it your best shot. You wanted him to ruin you; wanted to feel him tomorrow.

“I’m ready.”

“Say when.” He said, smirking at his own joke, and you felt him swell inside you. “Do you prefer it real long, or real thick?”

You were too busy processing the sensations inside of you to respond in a timely manner, and he just nodded, like you’d answered anyway.

“Oh, that’s right. Naughty girl like you likes both, huh?”

He gained a look of focus on his face as you felt him swell inside you, pressing against nerves you didn’t know you had and making you shake and moan.

“Fuck, would you look at that.” His eyes settled on your belly, and you looked down to see a distinct bulge there, long and thick and twitching below your belly button. He pressed his palm down firmly, making you both moan.

“You’ve got to feel this.” He took your hand, pressed it down against your belly, and held it there. Then, he started to move.

You could feel him sliding around in your cunt, pushing your cervix high into your guts as he pounded into you, could feel the length of his dick retreating and returning under your hand. You were still playing with your tits with your free hand, your arousal building dizzyingly. You hoped he’d let you come, because no toy you owned was going to compare to this. Hell, you weren't sure anything could compare to this. He was ruining you for everything and everyone else, and he knew it.

He stilled for a second, changing the rhythm. His movements were slower now, rolling into you. His hands gripped your legs, slinging them over his shoulders as he leaned into you. You could've sworn you felt a brush of a fingertip across your ankle, followed by a warm breath, but when you looked, his hands were nowhere near your ankles. You were so overstimulated you didn’t know what was what anymore.

“Have I been good, Sir? Have I earned it? I want to come, please.” You babbled, walls tightening around his dick. He was gritting his teeth in pleasure now, brows knitting together.

“Fuck, so good. Right there.” He moaned, hand pressing down on your stomach again. “I’m close, baby.” He opened his eyes, gaze meeting yours. “You come on this dick or not at all. You wanna come, you do it now.”

His hands were gripping your hips now, and he levelled a sharp smack against your ass, making you clench around him.

A ghostly sensation trailed across your cunt, soft fingertips pinching at your clit even though his hands were occupied, and you wondered just how many powers he had that you didn’t know about.

Before you could question it any further, you were tumbling over the edge. Something felt different this time, and a feeling of panic spiked in your gut as the feeling spiralled out of control. It almost felt like you had to pee, and you tried to stop it but it was no use. The most intense orgasm of your life crashed over you, turbulent and wet, soaking Reed’s belly and his pubic hair, dripping down to his balls.

His jaw dropped, a moan slipping out unbound. “God, look at you. Did you know you could do that, sweetheart?”

You shook your head no, and he grinned.

“We’re gonna have some fun with that later.”

He thumbed at your clit, fucking into you faster, a focused determination pounding at your g-spot until you were practically howling with pleasure. Your whole body tingled, set alight as you had your second orgasm, cunt clenching and squeezing helplessly around his massive cock as you squirted all over him again.

The combined image and sensation had Reed grunting, turning to bite down on your calf to avoid making too much noise, filling you with hot bursts of cum, his hips stuttering and abdominal muscles clenching against the backs of your thighs as he filled you until it leaked onto the desk.

Before you could even catch your breath, he was tucking himself back into his slacks. He wiped the desk with his handkerchief, then sat back into his chair with a satisfied look on his face.

You got dressed, feeling his cum pooling in your panties as you straightened yourself up.

“Same time next week?” He asked, watching you lecherously as you buttoned your blouse back up.

“Yes, sir.” You answered, legs wobbly as you said goodbye and left the room, closing the door behind you.

The door locked shut behind you almost immediately. You heard the quiet snick and you assumed he’d used his long reach to do it.

What you didn't hear was his wife's voice on the other side of the door as she made herself visible again.

“So, what did you think?” Reed asked, pulling his wife into his arms and settling her on his lap.

“She was a good one.” Sue said, grinding down on her husband’s lap. “Hot little thing. Obedient.”

He was hard again already, rolling his hips up into her. “Mmm, she was.”

“Ready for more already?” She asked, pressing a kiss to his lips. He grinned, popping open his pants again, shoving them down just enough to free himself.

“For you? Always.” He said, guiding her down onto his cock, still covered with your combined spend.

That’s how she liked it.

[kumkaniudaku]

Just For You

Summary: Terry and Patrice give each other lasting nicknames.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

"Terrence and Patrice, you're married. Any objections?" 

None from Terry. A few from Patrice, but what was new? She always had objections. Ms. Cole answered each of her star pupil's questions in extreme detail before sending the pair home as a fictional married couple exploring the semester's section on personal finance. 

It was Terry's idea for them to work together on the weekend at his house, citing weekday football practices as too much of a hindrance to after-school instructional time. His sophomore year came with another growth spurt to a towering 6'1", and he couldn't let the new length or extra muscle go to waste. The fight for starting receiver had only just begun. 

Patrice hated falling behind. The thought of letting days pass without tracking toward their project's completion ate away at her. She allowed Terry to have his way, but under one condition: they'd work all morning on Saturday to knock things out in one day.

He scrunched his face and ran a hand over his haircut. "Patrice, that's a lot. We can't stretch it to two days?" He thought again for a better solution when she started to open her mouth with a rebuttal. "What if we talked on the phone and finished up Sunday night! Then you only have to leave home once!" 

"Take it or leave it, Terrence. One day or a little bit every day after your practice." 

With Saturday morning SportsCenter's top five clips playing on the television while they sat beside each other, their feet and legs jutting out from beneath his mother's coffee table, it was clear he'd taken the offer with a few concessions. Highlights stayed on during homework. 

Patrice sat still and quiet while she watched Terry twirl a pencil between his fingers and squint at the instructions on their project syllabus. Late morning sunlight streaming through the living room window brought out the honey color in his eyes, her favorite part of the blue-green pieces of art she pretended not to sneak glances at when they spent time together. His brows furrowed to create little ripples at the center of his forehead. Three. She always counted them when he made his focused face. 

If anyone didn't know him, he'd look like an intimidating man at least five years his senior. But Patrice knew Terry was mostly a gentle giant. He spoke softly as if the sound of his own voice was scary, opened doors, laughed on occasion, and remained polite day to day. Compared to the other boys in his grade, Terry was a saint—a saint slowly creeping his way into Patrice's day-to-day thoughts. 

Terry's shoulder brushed against Patrice's as he shifted on the floor, making her shuffle further away to avoid the goosebumps populating her forearm. Terry glanced over, concern replacing the focus in his eyes. "You okay? Did I hit you?" 

"No, I just didn't wanna be so deep in your space." Partially true. The why was her secret to keep. 

Terry shrugged. "It's cool. You're not bothering me." She never was. If he were honest, Terry wished she would bother him more. Come over more, show up to more games, and stay on the phone a little later when he called under the guise of missing notes from class, knowing the only thing he missed was her voice. He scooched closer to her, leaving a sliver of space between them. "So, I think you're the breadwinner in this scenario. Sixty-thousand a year ain't half bad. You must be a professor or something. Talkin' them students' heads off, I'm sure." 

"Shut up," Patrice laughed as she elbowed his side. "You aren't far behind! Your $45k gets us to a combined $105k. That's more money than I've ever seen." 

Her compliment of his pretend income pulled a closed-mouth smile from Terry. "Yeah, well, how do we spend it? Says here we need to budget our combined monthly income between bills, discretionary spending, and savings." Quick mental math helped him tally their post-tax income. "That's $3,204 bi-weekly. Just under $7000 a month. I think we can handle that." 

"Let's start with housing and work from there?" 

"I'm following your lead." 

One hour of hard work and bickering netted the play couple one outcome they could agree on. Terry thought it'd be best for them to choose a modest three-bedroom dwelling with a low mortgage to fit their housing needs and free up funds for two cars. Though Patrice wanted a bigger backyard for her garden, she relented when her mate pointed out she'd get the better car and a summer vacation if they were wise with their monthly spending. One night out a week, $500 a month in "fun funds," and a strict savings schedule left them more than enough money in their reserve to consider children in their plan. 

Brain fog stemming from a quietly growling belly made Patrice stretch her arms high about her head and whine. "Can we take a break? I'm a little hungry." 

"I can make you something!" Hearing the extra eagerness in his own voice felt like a punch to the throat for Terry. Embarrassment had him scaling back to save face. "It's just a PB&J. You don't want me using the stove. Or you can wait 'til my mom gets home. She usually does crawfish on the weekends."

"Shoot, let's do both! I've never had crawfish before."

Not ever having crawfish was a cardinal sin in Terry's household. If his parents found out Patrice had been living a life without experiencing their family specialty, she'd be forced to camp out until every piece of corn, sausage, potato, and crustacean was consumed. Terry logged the reference in the back of his mind for later use as he made his way into the kitchen. 

While Terry focused on the even spreads of peanut butter and jelly on his mama's "good" bread, Patrice took her time mosying around the large living room to acquaint herself with her surroundings. 

Expensive trinkets and books she'd never read lined the cubby spaces on one side of their large wooden entertainment center. On the other, family photos told the Richmond family's story. At the top, Mr. and Mrs. Richmond posed in formal attire with big smiles to celebrate what Patrice assumed was their wedding day. Another shelf featured photos of twin girls with encased baby booties in the middle. She smiled at their big afro puffs and chocolate-covered faces while they enjoyed dessert at Disney World. Then, she spotted it. Perched on a stack of photo albums, a little boy decked in Spider-Man gear from head to toe stretched himself in the hero's signature squat. But those eyes were unmistakable. Little Terrence was clearly on a mission to save the world. Or his backyard, at the very least. 

In awe of how cute Terry looked as a kid playing make-believe, Patrice reached out to grab the frame for a closer look. That was him, alright. Terry still had the same toothy grin that crinkled his nose at the bridge and made his eyes close from the rise of his cheeks. Ears too big for his body stood out even more than they did ten years later. He may have been smaller in stature and much more upbeat than the brooding teenager in the other room, but after a year of friendship and a little secret pining, she could recognize him anywhere. 

Immersion disarmed Patrice's senses, giving Terry ample space and opportunity to sneak up on her. "That's funny?" His voice cut through the silence, making Patrice jump and turn to catch the sly smile on his face. "That was my fifth birthday. I can't remember why I didn't get a party, but I guess I still had fun that day." 

"It's cute," Patrice complimented. "I didn't know they made masks for little kids with adult-sized heads." 

Payback from her jab tasted perfectly sweet on her tongue, like her Nana's homemade apple pie. Patrice watched Terry roll his eyes and shake his head before pulling the glass photo frame from her hands and placing it back in its rightful spot. 

He pretended to laugh along before kissing his teeth. "Come get this sandwich before I change my mind, girl." 

Terry would never change his mind, no matter how hard he tried to pretend or fight back the smile revealing his top row of teeth. Patrice had a free license to pick with him, and, on occasion, he'd join in to further solidify their friendship. 

Lighthearted rounds of the dozens meandered into winding conversions dominated by Patrice's favorite secret chatterbox. He ran through team drama a mile a minute, only taking breaks to chew and ask her intentions for the remaining pretzels on her plate. She granted him permission to clean up her portion and his if it meant he'd keep talking. 

"So, you like orange?" His abrupt change in subject turned Patrice's passive listening into active confusion. He pointed at the scrunchie on her wrist to clarify. "The color, I mean. I noticed you wear it all the time. I was just wondering if it's your favorite." 

Patrice fiddled with the ponytail holder, looking for anything to keep her from making eye contact with Terry. Knowing she was being watched excited and terrified her with equal intensity. "Um, yeah. It is." 

"How come?" 

"I don't know, really. I think because of how the sky turns orange when the sun's going down in the summertime. That's always been pretty to me." Terry committed the information to memory with a quick head nod, letting awkward silence scream into Patrice's ear until she forced out a follow-up question. "What about you? What's your favorite color?" 

Terry thought for a moment. "Blue, mostly. But like Carolina blue. If you get too dark, it's like the Patriots, and I hate the Patriots." 

"Dang. Soooo, no tickets to see Tom Brady for our fun money, huh?" 

"Well, I ain't say all that!" 

Stomach-busting laughter derailed all thoughts of returning to the second half of their assignment. Instead, they chose to take a nose dive into each other's likes, dislikes, and anything in between. Terry had to know Patrice's birthday for…research purposes. 

She scribbled the date on his mother's wall calendar. "April 23rd, remember? Shakespeare's birthday!" 

Fitting. Terry stored the date away in the section of his brain reserved for important things like stats and Lil Wayne lyrics for good this time. 

"What's your favorite food?" 

"My maman's étoufée," Terry answered, whistling from the memory of last Thanksgiving. "I can't wait to go visit next month!" 

How Patrice wished to visit with him and experience even the smallest taste of the dish, brightening his smile more than she'd ever seen before. 

Back and forth they went while time morphed into more of an abstract concept than a rule governing the physical world. Terry's favorite film? Remember the Titans. An obvious answer for obvious reasons, but Patrice loved to hear his explanation anyway. Patrice's plans for her future career? A teacher, high school English more specifically. And, if she found the time, she'd get her PhD and teach other teachers how to teach one day. Her commitment to learning and school was admittedly odd to Terry, but still, he found her passion for it magnetic. 

In their own world, Patrice and Terry were free to be themselves in every imperfect way. Nothing was too nerdy or too weird to discuss. And, if it got close, they knew to keep each other's secrets. 

Gathering plates for cleanup, Terry rattled off his umpteenth question. "What's your middle name? Wait! Can I guess?" Patrice smiled and pushed for him to take his best shot. "You look like a Nicole." 

"No way! How'd you guess that?" 

"Every Black girl's middle name is Nicole. Or Marie. It was a 50/50 chance." 

"It was a 50/50 chance," Patrice mocked before kissing her teeth. "What's yours? Michael?" 

Terry smirked at her attempt to get him back. "Nope. It's James. Me and my dad have the same one." 

"I guess that's kinda cool." Curiosity turning the wheels in Patrice's head robbed her of seeing Terry trying to hide his smile and reddening ears from her view. "Do people ever call you TJ, or is it always Terrence or Terry?" 

Hardly anyone called him Terrence. His full first name was his mother's go-to when he was in trouble. In school, teachers faithfully called him what existed on the roll sheet. But, those closest to his heart knew him as Terry and nothing else. The divide between Terrence and Terry was his way of telling friends from foes. TJ, though, was new and interesting.

Thinking for a couple of seconds yielded no results. "Nah, I don't think so. You can have dibs if I give you one." 

Decisions decisions. Alternate names gifted by little boys never went well for Patrice. Four Eyes, Girl Urkel, and Stilts still haunted her well past elementary and middle school. The potential fallout from another botched nicknaming debacle wouldn't deter her from having something special between them.

"Fine," Patrice relented, grumbling enough to pull a laugh from Terry. "But nothing about my physical appearance. Or food-related. Or downright mean. Or Pat. I hate Pat." 

Her heavy southern twang exaggerated all of her demands, eliciting a laugh from Terry as he shook his head. "You know, usually, people don't get that much say in their nicknames. It's kinda the whole point." 

"Yeah, well, this ain't one of them time, so tread lightly." 

Terry lifted his hands in surrender, not wanting to squander his opportunity to deepen their connections. If rules existed around what he could and could not call her, so be it. "What about…P," he prosed after a few seconds. "Short and simple." 

"And unfortunately already taken by my mama. Try again." 

"Patty? Like LaBelle. Y'all both kinda mean but in a cool, old lady way." 

Patrice's annoyed eye roll sharply contrasted with Terry's impish grin. Payback was officially his again. 

"Terry, I swear! Be serious!" 

Relenting, he tossed out another option. "Okay, okay," he laughed. "For real this time. How does Treece sound? Just the second part of your name." Terry watched her mull over the idea, his smile growing when she offered no immediate rebuttal. He nudged her shoulder and smiled when she forced a sour expression. "Nah, you like it! Treece! Treecey! Big Treece!" 

Listening to Terry rattle off variations of her newly minted nickname, the sound from his lips sounding like her mother asking who wants a second helping of ice cream or Usher singing to her and her alone through her radio's speakers. 

"You know we sound like twins now, right? TJ and Treece?" 

"That's what we should name the kids." 

Missing context caused an invisible record to scratch, forcing Terry to quickly correct himself. Kids? They'd just reached good friend status. Patrice opened her mouth to question Terry, but he beat her to the punch with an explanation. 

He emphatically waved his hands in front of him, trying to sweep the misstep into the ether. "For the project! I meant kids for the project!" 

"Right!" The project. Duh. Patrice tried to recover cooly from what she was sure looked like utter panic with a dash of hopefulness on her face. "The kids from the project. Which –" 

"We should get back to. It's gettin' late. Unless you stayin' for crawfish tonight?" 

Dancing eyebrows and an irresistible grin slowly turned a firm no into a maybe before Patrice could stop her lips from moving. 

She sighed, giving in to the barely there push of peer pressure. "I'll call and ask my mom," she grumbled. "Is the phone in the living room, TJ?" 

"By the couch, Treece." 

Special names reserved for private use added another layer to a friendship blossoming by the day. Terry stood in the kitchen for a second longer to try out Patrice's new moniker alone, flexing different inflections and how it sounded next to his. Treece and Terry. Terry and Treece. Treece Ellis. Treece Richmond.

The last one earned a few repeats until Patrice's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. 

"No luck on crawfish, TJ! I've got to leave to babysit my brother tonight!" she hollered from the other room. “Come on so we can finish! We gotta get one of these kids on paper and budget for their Spider-Man birthday party!" 

Terry chuckled and shook his head. She'd never let him live that down. "Alright. I'm coming. You're a real demanding wife, you know that?" he shouted back with a smile.

Treece Richmond. He could get used to that one.

—————-

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[chilling-seavey]

i have such a TWIG moment, George coming back from a double header race late in the evening and when he comes home he sees you in the kitchen tidying up, knowing your son is already in bed. but to his surprise he sees the barely visible baby bump you acquired over the two weeks

I love this sweet idea 🥹 call me picky about my timelines but baby2 would be doing most of her growing during winter break but lucky for your idea here, anon, Winterfest blurbs confirmed baby3 so 🤭 let's progress...

Warnings: Lighthearted banter about body changes

It still impressed you how you managed to wrangle two kids all on your own while George was away for race weekends, especially those multi-headers. Perhaps your two little blessings were just at that age now where they worked with you more than against you, but you still found yourself completely wiped at the end of the night. You silently praised the resilience of single parents.

Your third pregnancy—compared to your first two—was not planned, and maybe it was that deep-seeded truth that made that first trimester feel all the morning exhausting. More often than before, you were debating his suggestion to hire a nanny just to take the brunt of the work off of you when he was away. You had once been adamant that it wasn't what you wanted but, damn, you were seriously starting to count down the days until George was home.

The night he finally arrived home from a double header (you swore if it was a triple you might have lost your mind), it was well into the evening and the kids had already been put to bed. They had put up a bit of a fight, wanting to wait up until George got home, but you promised them he'd check on them and give them a kiss when he got home and that seemed to be enough to pacify them.

As you wiped down the counters from dinner, you noticed the headlights of his car pulling into the driveway through the kitchen window. You kept yourself busy as he parked and grabbed his bag from the trunk. You wanted to finish the chores so you could spend the remainder of the evening with him before your exhausted body would have you falling asleep at the drop of a hat.

And before you knew it, George was in the doorway to the kitchen, resting against the frame, arms crossed casually over his chest. You glanced over at him with a sweet smile, wringing out the cloth into the sink.

"Hi," you greeted softly.

"Hi," he echoed.

George pushed himself off the doorframe and strode over to you as you dried your damp hands on a tea towel and you turned to face him to accept his quick kiss to your lips. His homecoming was second nature to you now.

"Good flight?" you asked, dropping the towel onto the counter so you could drape your arms around his shoulders.

"Mm, fine," he answered absentmindedly, his hands settling on your hips and then moving around over the front of your robe. His fingers gently played over the fabric.

You stared at him for a moment like that, just taking him in in the warm light of the kitchen, even if he was more focused on his hands than your face. You were just glad to have him back in your arms.

Finally, as if explaining his momentary awe, he stated, "You popped since I've been gone, look at you."

You glanced down at yourself too, already having noticed the way your pants had been getting harder to do up and the fact that the fabric belt of your robe was tied in more of an awkward spot than normal to accommodate your rapidly changing body. With a small hum, you agreed, "It started fast. Took almost double this time to start showing with our little guy."

"What are we at now? Nine weeks?"

"Mhm."

"Wow."

"Big already, huh?"

George chuckled lowly, playing into your banter as he finally tore his eyes away from your stomach to look you in the eye, "You're gonna be massive, love."

"Jesus, George, thanks," you laughed before retaliating with a, "Only due to the fact that it's your big ass baby inside me."

His arms slid farther around your waist to pull your body flush against his and he smiled at your playfulness as he stared lovingly into your eyes, "And I'd put fifteen more inside you if I could."

"We agreed we'd stop at two," you reminded him with a poke to his chest but there was no true heat behind your words, "This third one was enough of a surprise as it is. The last thing we need is more."

"But you look so pretty," George moaned in dismay, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, and he nipped at your earlobe. His breath fell warm against the shell of your ear, "And I can feel your little baby belly against me."

You giggled at his statement with your body pressed up snug against his, chest to chest. He smelt like airplane but the fading hints of his aftershave powered through and you ducked your nose right up under his jaw and just breathed him in. His hands slid down and gave your ass a squeeze over your robe.

After a moment of just holding each other, George took a half step back out of your embrace. You set your hands on the edge of the counter behind you and watched as his hands went back to the faint swell of your belly through the fabric of your robe. His fingers toyed with the belt before slowly pulling it undone.

"Sweetheart..." you chuckled faintly, moving a hand to grasp onto the front of your robe to keep it closed.

"Just want to look at you," he protested, lifting your hand up to kiss your knuckles before pulling open the front of your robe.

You watched his handsome face in silence, a fond smile on your face as he admired you in only your underwear in the middle of the darkened kitchen. The under-cabinet lighting created a soft, warm glow across the room and left both of you in long shadows. George still looked incredibly gorgeous...he always managed to look good, even after lengthy flights.

Just then, he crouched down onto the tile floor in front of you, splaying his hands over your bump, and he whispered to it softly, "Hey, little one. It's your daddy. You're growing so fast, aren't you?"

You smiled down at him and raked your fingers through his hair, your heart thudding in your chest at the sight of him like that. Watching him be a father was your greatest joy, and how blessed you were that life brought you him.

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[wlwsoccerfics]

Dangerous Gym Session(Arsenal WomenXRussoReader)

Warnings: diabetes Type 1, struggles with Body image, b*llying, mental health struggles, Google translate used.

Summary: you play for Arsenal just like your sister older sister Lessi.a Gym Session doesn't go as planned.

You were in the Gym, feeling lightheaded & your body was hurting. you realized that your blood sugar was dropping way too late.

So you quickly had two juice boxes. Hoping that it would do the trick. Spoiler alert, it didn't help! Which was why you were lying on the floor of the Gym right now. Trying to get through the pain. Cause you felt really sick. The other girls walked into the Gym , Kyra was the first one to notice you on the floor. "Less! Y/n needs help!" She answered and ran over to you. Alessia right behind her. Quickly followed by the rest of the Team.

"y/n?!cosa c'è che non va?(What's wrong?)" She asked you. You whimpered softly.

"sono basso(i am low)!" You told her. Leah helped you to sit up while Alessia held her phone against your sensor, which showed her how low your blood sugar was. She quickly handed you two more juice boxes from her own bag. She always had some in there for you. Some other Girls from the team were watching with worry written across their faces.

Norah who was entering the gym just now saw you on the floor and ran over. Norah was your teammate and secret girlfriend. Norah was a Goalkeeper for the team. She joined Arsenal two years ago.

"Babe! What's wrong?" She asked and kneeled down in front of you.

"i might have overworked myself without noticing how bad my blood sugar was!" You admitted. Then you looked at the Team and their surprised faces. You and Norah never told anyone about your relationship.

"did you just call y/n Babe?" Katie asked trying to wrap her head around this. You took Norahs Hand, squeezing it gently.

"i knew it." Kyra said, she always thought there was something going on between you and Norah.

"she did. we are together for two months now! It's still really new so we didn't tell anyone." You replied.

"okay we can go back to that relationship later. but what do you mean? Like when will you start listening to your body? Not checking your blood sugar and not listening to your Pump going Off? Like that's dangerous. So why didn't you Check?"Alessia wanted to know. You were biting down on your bottom lip.

"i am sorry! I was just so focused on working out!" You told her. Which was kind of true. but also not. There were some comments about your weight and performance and none of the ones that stuck in your head were anything but terrible. You may be an adult and 22 years old but that didn't mean you were doing well with bullying.

"Babe, what's going on?" Norah asked cause she knew that was not the entire truth. Everyone could tell that there was more to the story and Katie somehow had the brilliant idea to Check under your social Media Posts. Reading all the comments talking about how you have put on some weight and that's probably why you are not as fit as you used to be.

"i think i know!" Katie told the Team and handed Norah her Phone, to show her the comments. Katie looked pissed. So did Norah.

"y/n, those comments are bullshit. and you are a diabetic. Having fluctuations in your weight is part of it. That doesn't change the fact that you are an amazing Athlete and your performance on the field is amazing! Don't let them get to you!" Katie told you. Alessia frowned when she was shown the comments as well.

"this Is what happened? You know you depend on checking your blood sugar. Your life literally depends on that in fact!" Alessia wanted to know. You looked away. Because If your sister didn't look stressed before she sure did now. Stressed and sad. Norah squeezed your hand gently.

"Baby you are perfect the way you are! You are an amazing Athlete and the people who write stuff like that are just Jealous of your talent." Norah told you and the others agreed. A few nodded their head in agreement. Some even spoke up.

"Imagine you starting to feel that way while Lifting weights. That's so dangerous,y/n!" Beth told you.

You look at your teammates and then at your Sister. "I am sorry Guys! Deep down i know all of this. But sometimes These comments still get to me! I am already talking to the therapists about it! So they know!" You explained to them. Referring to the therapists that are part of the staff at Arsenal.

"it's good that you are talking to them about it! But all of us still gonna keep an extra eye on you. more then we already did before! Cause we really care about you!" Caitlin replied.

"that's fair!" You admitted.

"non spaventarmi più così!(don't scare me like that again)" Your sister said.

" non lo farò(i won't)." You replied. Giving her a small smile. She hugged you and you hugged her back while Norah checked with her Phone how your blood sugar was. Which thankfully was going back to normal.

Practice finally started when Reneé showed up and Leah had informed her what just happened so she also kept an extra eye on you.

You felt quite lucky that the team was there for you and cared so much about you! You could always count on them. Which did help with your feelings.

[willowlevulett]

I have no idea if I'll finish this but here's a little drabble that's been in my drafts for weeks.

-

The freezing air nips painfully at his bare arms as Jayce slides his balcony door closed, his lighter heavy in his hand.

"I would suggest you review and give the board alternative suppliers or materials by Monday. You would do well to remember why we all do this, Jayce"

He sighs, sinking into the frost covered cushion of a rickety lounge chair. He breathes through the ache of the cold, through the panic that still prickled up his spine even after all these years. It was a game he played. It was dumb and he kept his mouth shut about it. How long could he last in the cold before his nervous system became convinced he was freezing to death all over again. The answer everytime was not long. He slides his jacket roughly over his shoulders.

He was a weak man after all.

"I would strongly suggest you leave, Jayce"

His name has been tossed around quite frequently as of late. It felt nowadays more common than not that someone knew his name before he had a chance to say it. How odd of an existence, your own name ripped from your mouth before you have a chance to form it. This, too, was dumb. He knew that. Many people begged and pleaded for his very privileged, cushy life. Hell, when he was young and bright-eyed, he gazed up at the faces of the titans of industry and progress and hoped beyond hope that he would join them one day.

Well, here he was. The life he clawed and prayed for. And he was smoking on his balcony because of it. A shameful habit, this he also knew. Jayce could name a million other things he'd rather tell his mother than the small fact that he smoked. He'd rather look her in the eye and say he had a praise kink before he let her even got a whiff of smoke on his clothes.

The click of the lighter was a comfort. The warmth of the smoke in his mouth was like an old kiss. The cigarette balanced between his fingers was grounding. All of it was very simple. He could explain why he smoked. He knew why. The scientific and biological explanation shoved violently to the wayside. No, it wasn't the inherent addictive properties of nicotine, though he wouldn't deny that is a huge part of it. The reason he would say with a guilty, teeth barring smile is that he feels like himself when he's doing it.

So many of his choices in life have been reckless. He broke his arm at the ripe age of 9 because he figured out how to open the second story window and had always wanted to see the stars on the roof. He crashed his first car while trying to go back roading with his first boyfriend tucked in the front seat. He has a scar that snakes across the entirety of his back that he got into a bar fight when he was freshly 19 and snuck into a seedy bar with a friend he doesn't even remember the name of now.

Professionally, it has been no different. When his work at upper grad became increasingly worrying to his professors, they banned him from continuing his research into renewable energy in his school lab. Explosion risks were cited, but mostly, it was the risk of their oil grants being threatened by the continuation of the testing he was doing. Well, they weren't wrong about the explosion risks. The shrapnel that caught him in the right rib speaks to this all too well. The doctors said they couldn't remove it all and would only try in the future if it migrates too close to his lung. Jayce runs his hand over his rib cage and almost feels like he can feel it. A piece of his own invention nestled safety inside. He takes a long drag and thinks of the man who helped him bring it past that violate point and into something real. Something useful. Not just reckless.

Viktor. Sharp lines, sharp wit, sharp words, and sharp golden eyes. Viktor slid into his life with the grace and finesse of an assassin's knife. The wound he cut was clean, healed well, and could've been deadly if he so chose.

He was not reckless. He was calculating to a fault. The perfect pairing to a perpetual fuck up of an engineer that is Jayce Talis.

Jayce slips his hand under his shirt, pressing his chilled fingertips to the scars that litter his skin. He feels himself take a long shuddering breath.

No, no, let's not think about it, he begs himself. But like with all things, Jayce never listens.

Viktor, as beautiful as light shining through a shard of glass, had held his jaw in a vice grip last night. Jayce, as smooth as a train wreck, had gasped and sputtered an apology before he even registered what might be wrong. He was always making mistakes with Viktor. Drinking three too many beers at the mans apartment surely resulted in at least one.

Viktor had simply stared at him for a moment before releasing his jaw like one would release a bird back to the wild. With a flick of his fingers and a pushing forward motion that seemed to suggest to Jayce that he should flee out the window.

"I'm sorry. What was it? Am..am I too drunk? I've been drunker with you. I don't-I don't understand. Vik-"

"Jayce." His name. Always his name. Viktor always says it like it's made of honey. Jayce wants him to drip it on his tongue.

"What you just said." Oh lord, what he said. Jayce crumbles in on himself, one hand still clutching the burning cigarette, the other wrapped around his ribs.

"You just said," the specter of Viktor in his head continued, "that I am the most beautiful thing you've ever seen."

And Jayce had. They were discussing the stained glass of the cathedral they had passed on their work trip to England. It had been breathingly gorgeous when they decided it was worth the detour and went inside. The colors played like giddy children across the stonework floor. The high ceilings held the ribs of gorgeously carved wooden beams. But despite all that, Jayce found himself looking at how the light played in Viktor's hair. How his pupils dilated. How he licked his lips before he started to ramble about 18th century philosophy.

He was the most beautiful thing Jayce has ever seen. He shouldn't have said it. Viktor was not reckless. Starting a relationship between them was everything Jayce was and Viktor wasn't. He was no fool, Jayce knew enough about himself to know he was far too open with his emotions for Viktor to not at least have a guess that he habored more than work appropriate feelings for the other man. They had been working together three years now and he still couldn't figure out if Viktor returned those feelings. After last night, Jayce thinks with a bitter, painful swallow, he got his answer.

The answer was no.

No. Oh gods, it was no.

Jayce was hopelessly head over heels in love with him and Viktor's answer was no. Jayce, ever the fool, had taken one more risk and had gently set his hand on the side of the other mans neck. He had felt the rabbiting pusle of him, could feel how soft the skin was. He had touched him here before. All casual and never in this intimate manner where his palm pressed against the column of his throat. It was heaven, it was the cold depths of hell. Something in his face must've showed how much he felt for Viktor. It must've betrayed him like it always does. Too expressive, everyone always told him. And Viktor told him to leave. So, he did.

He had a painfully awkward progress report with their investment board earlier this afternoon. Viktor rarely ever showed up to those, but his absence ached worse than the hangover anyway. It went horribly. The board wasn't happy with the cost of materials and was demanding they either rework what metal they are using in the generators or bring the cost down in other ways. Jayce wasn't looking forward to bringing this all to his partner tomorrow.

He lights another cigarette, finally uncurling his fingers from where his nails have bitten half moons into the skin.

"Those will kill you."

Jayce startles, his chair clattering backwards, knocking his ash tray clear across the balcony. A string of curses tumble from his mouth as he whips to lock eyes with none other than the ghost who's been haunting him all day.

Viktor has one hand curled around the open balcony door and the other on his cane. How Jayce didn't hear the door slide open or the click of his cane, well, he'd rather be embarrassed about one thing at a time.

"Hey." It was meant to sound casual, but it comes out sounding absolutely wrecked. His throat suddenly hoarse, his voice thick. He clears it and tries again.

"Hey, buddy! I was just going shoot off a text that we'll need to meet in the morning. Lots of demands from the board. You know how it is." Too much. It was too cheery and over the top. Jayce grimaces and drops his head into his smoke wreathed hands. Hiding, a cowards move. God, could this be any worse.

"Can I sit?" No. Yes. Always. Please leave and let me suffer alone.

"Of course."

[klonnieshippersclub]

Baking Dreams into Reality

It's our third day of celebrating Bonnie's birthday and the Bennett-Mikaelson family is back! Their family keeps growing and Bonnie loves them all very much. Klaus loves her too and that's why he spoils her each birthday. She's his wife and the mother of his children, so she deserves it. Read Part One, Part Two

Bonnie let out a quiet sigh as she drank her morning tea at her kitchen table. Her thoughts drifted back to the place that used to be home. She missed her friends, Elena, Caroline, and Matt. The familiar woods of Mystic Falls, the late-night talks, and even the supernatural drama that used to come with being a part of that tight-knit group. It had been years since she left, after graduation, when Klaus had asked her to run away with him. She didn’t regret the decision—they had built a beautiful life together in New York, with their three children—but sometimes, like on her birthday, she couldn’t help but long for the people she had once been so close to.

Her gaze turned to Lila and Theo babbling softly together in their high chairs. The twins were barely a year old, yet they seemed to already have a quiet calm about them. Ava, the bright second grader, was full of energy and curiosity, and today was no exception. Bonnie could hear her talking to Klaus, no doubt already plotting something special for her birthday.

Klaus' smooth voice called out, “Bonnie, love, are you ready? We have a picnic waiting for you.”

Bonnie smiled faintly at the sound of his voice. He had changed her life in ways she could never have imagined, and yet sometimes, the ache of missing her old life still lingered.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” she called back, forcing a cheerful tone.

Minutes later, Klaus appeared in the doorway, holding Theo in one arm and Lila in the other. Ava stood beside him, bouncing on her heels with excitement.

“Happy birthday, Mama!” Ava said, her voice was bright. She handed Bonnie a small bouquet of wildflowers.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Bonnie said, her voice catching for a moment before she kissed Ava’s head.

“Everything’s ready,” Klaus said, his smile widening. “A little surprise picnic for you in the park."

The sun warmed their little picnic spot in Central Park and Bonnie felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. Ava was showing the twins magic tricks she learned from her mother and they giggled at their sister. Klaus watched with an amused smile as his children played. Bonnie took in the sight with a tiny grin. Suddenly, Klaus handed her a large envelope. "What's this about?"

Klaus's eyes sparkled with something mischievous. "A little birthday surprise for you, my love."

Bonnie carefully opened the envelope to find several sheets of detailed blueprints, diagrams, and sketches. She turned the papers over as she tried to make sense of them.

“Klaus, what is this?” she asked.

“Those are the plans for your bakery, Bonnie. The one you’ve always dreamed of."

Her heart skipped a beat as she processed his words. A bakery. She had dreamt of it for years, as a little girl, as a teenager, and even as an adult. But the idea of having one—of stepping away from the security of her job as a pastry chef at a popular restaurant—felt like a huge leap.

“I—I don’t know if I’m ready to walk away from my job, Klaus. It’s everything I’ve worked for,” Bonnie said, her voice uncertain.

Klaus laughed softly, the sound reassuring. “I don’t understand your need to work, Bonnie. But I do understand that you deserve to be your own boss. You've shown me how strong you are—balancing our family and your career. You've raised three kids, worked as a mother and a professional, all while pursuing your dreams. Let's make those dreams a reality.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Bonnie breathed.

“What would you name it?” Klaus asked, his voice tender.

"I’ll name it after Grams. Sheila’s." She paused. "Grams did more for me than anyone else before you ever did, Klaus."

Klaus’s lips curled into loving smile. “She would be proud of you.”

Bonnie pulled Klaus close as she peppered his face with kisses. “Thank you, thank you!” she murmured between kisses.

"Anything for you, love."

[yesimwriting]

Do you think whether Louis shares this past family at all?

I imagine it’d hard to talk about Claudia being that he doesn’t really acknowledge vampirism, and it plays such a huge part with her whole stunned body, the broken laws, and the coven. Not to mention Claudia took pride in being vampire and was phenomenal at it.

Also, I think about the conflict with his late human family. Paul’s death was crazy af, and the blame he got for it. The whole Graces’s baby thing. Him watching his family mourning his death.

I know he had to tell Daniel in order for the book to happen, but how much could he possibly tell the reader?

OMG what if she could create a painting with Louis and late (actually dead, not undead) his loved ones, that he either didn’t have a lot of photos of or they were lost in time.

Ohhhh this is such a good question/ask 😭 I've been thinking through their dynamic in relation to this for such a long time.

The painting idea are you kidding me 😭. That's such a great idea and something she'd definitely do/try to piece together based on any remaining photos and Louis's description.

Okay so, onto what Louis has told her. Louis has definitely told her about everyone/everything at least once. He trusts bestie reader sm and he wants her to know that, and also they're together so much it'd be kind of hard for certain things to never come up.

However, Louis isn't consistent with the level of details he provides. Bestie reader knows more about Lestat and Louis's fights and the complexities of their relationship more than anyone else. He's told her things about Lestat he's never even mentioned to Armand. Some of this is intentional, but sometimes it's just bc they're both drunk (or on other substances) and he's thinking about it and she's serving as an outlet.

Also, because I'm a firm believer that no matter how separated Louis is from Lestat, he still loves him, he talks about Lestat a lot bc it's the closest he can get to reader meeting Lestat. In some ways, reader knowing Lestat is this fantasy Louis has that he's incapable of acknowledging, but I digress.

Anyways, back to Louis's inconsistency in detail. Some of what he leaves out is because of his memory and limited perspective (kind of like what we see in the show), and other things are left on purpose. He's so afraid of reader seeing him how he sees himself, so he'd never directly address how he failed Claudia. For example, he'd tell reader about how Claudia came to be and the age that she was turned and how hard it was for her, but he'd never talk about all the ways that he made her existence harder.

Claudia is also a difficult topic for him to discuss with reader because while he doesn't see reader as Claudia, he sometimes sees a little bit of Claudia in her. Sometimes when they're really happy, Louis remembers the early years when things still seemed like they could work out. When reader wants to do things that make him nervous, he sees the ways in which he could have tried harder to keep Claudia safe. When the reader is happy and in her element (like at an art gallery), he sees what Claudia might have been.

He censors himself the most when talking about Armand. Partially because of how controlling Armand is, but also because of reader and Armand's dynamic. Armand's behavior around bestie reader is visibly different, he's more restrained, almost gentle. If Louis were to tell reader about some of the things Armand has done, she'd start seeing Armand as a monster, and Armand wouldn't feel the need to play nice anymore bc her mental image of him is already ruined.

Louis is not risking reader's safety and peace to tell her about things like Armand's torture era in the 70's.

Also, Louis isn't planning on leaving Armand so it's kind of like when the person your dating has seriously wronged you but you can't tell your friends bc then they'd hate them too much. AND reader would probably try to slap Armand or something if she knew everything, and Louis doesn't think Armand's patience with her will extend that far.

I think Louis is very back and forth on mentioning his family to bestie reader. Stories about them are, by far, the least dangerous, but they also make him think about things in certain ways. Sometimes it's weirdly healing to be able to tell her about the way that his family viewed him and other times it's nauseating.

I think he'd talk about Paul's absence the most, but he wouldn't delve into the details of what happened if that makes sense. Like he talks about his feelings over Paul's death, but he divides his emotions from the chain of events that caused them. Tbh that's how he handles most discussions of grief.

Okay, some new bestie reader lore that you have no way of knowing about because I haven't written it into existence yet that's super relevant to this question, but part of the reason that reader lets Louis get away with being relatively 'cagey' about certain aspects of his grief is bc she's doing the same thing.

Not to drop crazy lore here, but in my head, bestie reader lost someone important to her a little before she met Louis. In some ways, she feels similarly to what Louis feels, in the sense that sometimes she's scared that she's replacing the person she lost with Louis. However, her grief is much more plain sadness than actual guilt, and so she assumes that Louis doesn't want to talk about certain things because it's hard and not bc of vampire self hatred/guilt.

Louis also knows that there's someone reader isn't talking about enough because he pays attention to how she acts, but also because he can see into her thoughts. I do think he works hard at actively giving her mental privacy, but at times he gets really worried or her thoughts are particularly loud bc she's distracted or overwhelmed and he hears things.

So basically, to an extent, they're living in a mutual denial. I have an idea for a drabble/fic where this is forced to end and they talk about a lot of things, and if you'd be interested in that pls lmk!

Also, slightly off topic, but a big part of the reason he keeps anything from reader is rooted in a subconscious self hatred. Bestie reader is going to get Louis to love himself or die trying, and I'm so serious. As the story progresses, bestie reader is going to lock in and get Louis to feel less guilty about what he is.

He's actually so delusional, so convinced that any blunt conversation about vampirism could be the thing that pushes reader away. In reality, reader does not gaf about him being a vampire. She is generally curious about vampires, but she thinks everything about Louis is so much more interesting.

That's her Louis, and if she walked in on him actively draining seven people at once she'd just be like 'sometimes I need a late night snack too'. She'd actually become a vampire activist if it meant Louis would feel better about himself.

[snifflesthemouse]

Meghan was Harry's Revenge. Once He is Over it...

Hello ALL YOU LOVELY READERS!!! How this mouse has missed the cheese! How is everyone out there? It feels like years since I've decidded to sit down and make time to repeat myself for others to use for content on their own videos (I'm not hating, I love it.). But this is a bit different.

You see, there was a Vanity Fair article that recently came out revealing things we all knew already if you were already paying attention. We all knew that Meghan was horrible to her staff. We all knew Harry ignored and allowed her abuses to be hurled upon anyone around her. We all knew that she would be shopping a divorce book deal one day, too. So what is the point in keeping on keeping on, if it's just the same stuff on repeat?

WAIT... WHY IS IT JUST THE SAME OLD SAME OLD STUFF, AND NOTHING NEW??

Why no new patterns of behavior as of lately?

Meghan is infamous for playing the Flying Pasta Game (go read what that is below, on my blog). She has the same exact pattern for every single project she has been rumored to start since she got with Haz. She finds an idea to copy, she tries to 'elevate it' and spin it as original and fresh, and then she doesn't fully commit until she sees if it becomes an instant sensation. That is the problem with the narcissist; they won't finish anything unless they know it will be more than viable. Anything less than a smash isn't worth the signatures for the USPTO for ARO to legally proceed. She did this with EVERYTHING. But, I am not here to talk about Meghan's hair-brained schemes and failures. I am here to talk about the truth.

The truth is, Harry and Meghan were never star-crossed lovers with their backs against the world. They were two mentally disturbed people, both with abandonment issues. Both with insecurites stacked to the ceilings. But one was a prince, and the other had to use people to get her platform.

Let's be real. Harry was never in love with Meghan. Love wouldn't leave you hanging that way. And Meghan caught on early that Harry was using her for revenge. They were both using each other.

The problem with two mutual people who don't love each other coming together to scheme and scam is, that it almost ALWAYS blows up. For regular people, they end up caught and either go to jail or some just desserts come EVENTUALLY.

Harry hates his family. He doesn't love his wife, either. He doesn't love his brother, and he didn't love his grandparents. Love doesn't hurt. But hurt people do hurt. And Harry has been plotting his revenge for his mother for a while now. He knew he'd never be able to be KIng or topple the monarchy. But he knew he could marginally disrupt, embarass, and bring doubts to the people. That could, potentially, cause lots of harm.

But you know what happens when someone is built off of hate and bitter? It takes a lot of energy and steam to keep the hate going. Just like this mouse told you before... the same song and dance numbers would be replayed on repeat because they've been cut off. They have no new source materials.

The whole world finds them boring and atrocious. If Meghan was smart, she would go away and be silent for a while. A few years of her nose to the grind and working from behind the scenes would do us all some good.

Because they aren't working on their podcasts or Netflix deals. They were professionally separated until the next devastation station came about for them to trauma tour. We've seen it for years, and I have no idea why the mainstream media hasn't made a montage of these events.

Eventually, Harry will be tired of being mad. BUT, He will be even more tired of being broke and being tied to her. He will hate her like he hates his own because that is how hate works. It is a cancer. When people are miserable on the inside, nothing can fix that but them. Harry will get bored and need someone else to be mad at that will make new drama and money.

This mouse told you all years ago this was coming. They would run out of steam and turn on each other. Harry did his damage, and he tested the waters to see how truly loved he was... and he got a bad grade. He learned a lot of people wouldn't tolerate everything like he was Diana.

Meghan got tired of waiting on Trevor to help her career. She will do the same with Harry, too. But see... there is this pesky problem they both have. Meghan is spiteful enough she would expose the whole thing re the surrogacy issues. That's a whole other post in and of itself, though.

I miss you all and love you dearly!!!

[ndrv3expert1]

How I would rewrite the utilization and timing of Tenko's flipping ability (That also slightly changes the narrative.)

Tenko's flipping ability had the power to change the entire narrative of DRV3 but the game barely used it here's how it could have made a really impact.

This is an excerpt to a 25 page essay I wrote inspired by @whattheskyknows' post about the underutilization of Tenko’s flipping ability. Check out their original post below.

https://www.tumblr.com/whattheskyknows/766230450261884928/i-wish-drv3-utilised-tenkos-flipping-technique?source=share

The first reveal of Tenko’s ability

The first time Tenko’s power will be revealed is late chapter two early chapter three. Here she will flip Shuichi and Himiko just like in the original game, but this time instead of being the only time her ability is ultilized it will be used to give the player an inclination of Tenko’s power with characters that we already know enough about to deem Tenko’s analysis correct making her ability seem reliable and trustworthy.

The next time Tenko’s power will be utilized is in the middle of chapter three.

Maki's flip

Here she would flip Maki. I know you probably think I don’t know if that would work out, etc., but at this point, Maki is getting closer to Kaito and Shuichi, and even though Tenko was one of the many people who were wary of Maki after her talent reveal she did eventually come around and had a nice chat with Maki in chapter three.

Tenko could guise it as sparring, especially after her dojo opened up and flipped Maki telling her something along the lines of:

“You hide from us because you believe that we’ll all hate you, but Tenko can tell, deep down, you’re a caring girl, Maki. You’re afraid, just like the rest of us, afraid of hurting your loved ones, which is why you lie to build up walls. You don’t want us to shun you, and you don’t want any more blood on your hands, at least not if you don’t have to.”

And then Maki would obviously (and understandably) be shocked, probably asking Tenko how she knew that just by flipping her.

I think the two would grow closer and make that conversation between them before Angie’s death a bit more impactful.

Either Shuichi would have to be in the room or Maki would have to tell him (and Kaito) after the fact since Shuichi is the protagonist and we find out all the information through him, and then he would do that thing where he has a thought or an internal monologue, but it pops up as text that reads:

‘It’s nice that those two are getting along with their combined strength; we might be able to find a way out of here.’

Kokichi’s flip

Next would be Kokichi, which wouldn't be an on screen moment like Maki's because Kokichi dropping his mask is a big reveal for the end of the game.

Tenko would either flip Kokichi out of pure annoyance or reluctant curiosity, then say:

"Tenko can see you're putting up a villainous facade, but she can tell that there’s more behind it."

And Kokichi gets so scared that he’s vulnerable and just runs away.

Maybe he even writes on his little whiteboard an insult under Tenko’s name, then erases it and writes interesting or useful under it.

They can then have little interactions where they talk, combining their skills to try and figure out the mastermind or the truth of the game, and we see them getting closer to each other.

Then I wrote two separate storylines because I love Tenko so much I created two alternate universes for her ability to be used correctly, and I wanted to make this harder for myself because I can't take the easy way out.

Here's how Tenko’s flipping ability could play out in two possible narratives option being closer to the canon and option two deviating further from it.

Option one:

Tenko dies like she was supposed to and all the secrets die with her. Kokichi and Maki are upset, but of course, in typical fashion, don’t show it in front of the others.

After Tenko’s death, Tsumugi looks happy/relieved, and Kokichi gets suspicious, but it’s not enough evidence to determine anything yet.

In late chapter three or early chapter four, before everything happens, Kokichi finds out that Tsumugi was happy Kiyo killed Tenko because she found out too much and goes into his plan even more determined to end the killing game and get revenge on Tsumugi for everything she's done to them (and Tenko).

Option two:

Kiyo kills Angie locked room mystery style, he then tries to kill Tenko but it fails (it still hit her in the arm or a non-vital part of the neck.) Tenko still dies, though, and everyone believes that it was from blood loss.

Later Kokichi discovered that Tsumugi killed Tenko using the power of the first-come, first-served rule to save herself because Tenko flipped her and found out way too much.

Kokichi would then find out and confront Tsumugi in a confrontation that would go something like:

“You did it, didn’t you?” Kokichi said, his voice filled with emotion, Tsumugi turned around, confused and angry. "You killed her."

Here bits of Kokichi's mask would start to drop , the usual mischievous smirk replaced with a rage-filled scowl.

Tsumugi would walk closer, their faces almost touching.

“She was learning too much, sticking her nose into places it didn’t belong. The game wouldn’t have been as fun if there was a reveal so early… I had to get rid of her; she was a threat to me. You understand, don’t you, Ouma?” (referencing chapter four).

Kokichi would then curse her out and say something along the lines of he'll ruin Tsumugi's game for her and everyone watching, either Tsumugi directly or the cameras, and continue his plan to end the game.

Tsumugi would then either be amused that Kokichi would try or genuinely concerned seeing Kokichi as a threat and trying to stop him herself, once again changing the narrative.

This one is especially nice because it shows the parallel of Kokichi and Tsumugi as a sheep in a wolf’s clothing and a wolf in a sheep’s clothing and also them both having scripts and doing whatever is necessary to make their narrative happen.

Kokichi is manipulating Gonta to kill Miu and Tsumugi killing Rantaro and framing it on Kaede.

This also gives Tsumugi more of a role as the mastermind in the game, also allowing Tenko to use her power multiple times without the consequences of an early reveal or boring game.

Then for either one or two, the ending would pretty much go the same except for maybe Tsumugi subtly mentioning that Tenko (and Kokichi) already found out a while ago, but the rest of the ending is perfect and wouldn’t be affected.

Conclusion

And that is a rewrite of how I think Tenko’s flipping ability could have been used to its full potential.

Of course, there were a few things that I couldn’t stress as much as I wanted to, like Tenko and Maki and Tenko and Kokichi's friendship, and the others would be like:

“Tenko and Kokichi/Maki are close these days, aren’t they?”

But this is getting long, so maybe I'll talk about it in another post.

Tenko had a really amazing power that had the chance to change the narrative and be a really cool arc, especially since she's a character that expresses her emotions wholeheartedly and wants others to do the same, but it instead was just like so many other things about Tenko's character overlooked, underutilized, and forgotten about, during and after its reveal.

Tenko deserved better. We deserved better and it's a shame to see such a great opportunity go to waste.

And if anyone wants to read the full essay if requested I will make a comment or another post (unlikely though it's very long 😅)

[hyrtwynwrites]

Okay, I have a story about this

I was in a physics class maybe... six years ago, now? And we're giving little presentations every couple of classes about little science things we find particularly interesting, because my professor was a really cool dude and damn passionate too (he also literally looked like Einstein, I kid you not)

One day, a classmate goes up and starts talking about the relatively recent spat of phones exploding, and he shows a couple of pictures of what you see above: Batteries bloating as the chemicals inside them grow increasingly unstable. As the guy is talking, a strange look begins to spread over the professor's face, and suddenly he just steps out of the room

A minute later, he comes back in with a box, I mean a full to the brim box, and says "these have been sitting back there for months, we didn't know what to do with them."

It is full of batteries that are all stretched and bloated. We had the world's largest phone bomb just sitting in our storage room and no one knew until that day lmao

is that good

[thedrotter]

not-yet-dead-person

silly comic of a conversation in-game i thought was too funny not to make something proper for instead of a doodle ww

(timelapse + wip images (thus silly process commentary in read more if you like artist commentary :3)

i think the sketch looks silly and goofy and funny so i find it important to share with you the mere presence of the faces i drew on it. i drew it on top of the boxes without staying inside its borders because i find my proportions can get wonky if i draw them cropped in a restricted space. and I feel trapped otherwise and i will draw BAD!!! give me spaceeeee to go wild!!!!

the head circles are there for emotional support

very low res speedpaint because truth is the canvas was much bigger than the space where my comic was placed. i didnt account when exporting my timelapse in 720px that that tiny space would look so pixelated ... but it's able to be percieved, so its okay.

(i will now comment on my process and it is not brief sorry)

usually i would try to clean up my sketches and figure out what goes on top before jumping into linework, but since there are multiple panels and drawings i chose to jump into inking right away for the sake of brevity. i just went in with a brush that uses pen pressure and drew what was needed. i added extra line thickness and contrast in areas around the face because it helps direct your eyes there more easily that way.

according to her equipment rei has a chain belt but i only remembered it existed once I was going to color, and i did not like that discovery... I chose to ignore it to maintain my peace. i already have the color palettes for these characters figured out, and i didnt really want to think about a new element at the moment www I tend to overthink those things a lot so i skipped it

the rest is rather straightforward! not that anything else wasn't, but in here i could turn my brain off and sing. linework and sketching require mumbling so i cannot turn my brain off. just block in the characters with a solid color so i can have a mask (something along those lines,) where the color can stay inside. then just color in !!!

Base colors just had slight cell shading on the skin, and for the hair i airbrush a bit of the skincolor in low opacity near the forehead... I'm not sure what it means, but i can look at the faces easier with it somehow. i like the gentle subtlety it adds even if you cant really tell. it makes things look nice.

background was just me blocking in the color of the wall and floor, shade the wall a bit, then slap a noise and free use wood texture on top. work smarter not harder ! yet it took a bit to make it look stylistically fitting with the characters, and even now i think bottom middle panel looks odd. whatever!!!

for the middle panel i thought itd be funny if the background was a solid silly and colorful one to contrast the next panel's sketchy black one. a contrast to how the word widow is seen. on that note my handwritting is not pointy. i gaslighted my hand into thinking that it was indeed pointy in that moment so i could write "not-yet dead person" in letters that didn't seem cute. my hand did not fall for it but it complied anyway

that's basically it! I'm not sure what else i could say that doesn't feel barebones because it really is that straightforward. if you're curious I used clip studio paint for this. only special brush used was for linework (a brush named Lemon Brush), the rest used were just the default. my computer gets the least credit. it was trying to convince me a 20mb file was going to nuke it all the time and hardly let me save multiple times so i do not appreciate it

[sysig]

A hero is only as good as his weapons, so make ‘em count (Patreon)

[gilfrespecter]

Listening to coinstar by the growlers and thinking about mel so hard I get nauseous

Ridiculous stream of conscious in the tags apologies but not really

[sluttyten]

I still have 5 hours left in my shift 😭😭😭

[arolesbianism]

If I had the freedom of not knowing there is going to be future new lore stuff added to oni I would do unspeakable things to so many of these guys. Or Id just make them normal guys who just sorta exist. Either or.