#after I'd planned for a quick study

[lunchtimebedamned1997]

Buffy Summers, my beloved <3

(Process and speedpaint under the cut :3)

Finally did a study of the most underappreciated girl in the world (which she saved, a lot). Buffy is actually the show that got me into participating in fandom in the first place back in 2018, so this was long long overdo!

I'm so so pleased with how this turned out, and it was a really nice to play with a rendering study after so many studies of animation (which is beautiful, but simplified for the artist' sanity obvi).

So many of my current WIP projects are centered around Hazbin and Jujutsu Kaisen, and I've been keeping things far less rendered than this, and it felt really nice to go back to my fandom roots so-to-speak with this one!

Okay, speedpaint time!

[ryanthedemiboy]

An aborted fetus can also be considered something that was alive without it being a moral issue to end its life. Many things are alive that are harmful to some but not to others.

An embryo can be considered alive and still be aborted without calling it murder.

You can consider it just as alive as a child you are raising after giving birth to it. And that doesn't make abortion a moral failing!

You don't have to jump through hoops to consider it not alive in order for you to get an abortion, or think access to it is important.

Abortion is the death of something once alive, but that doesn't make it evil.

It's okay. However you view it, whatever you decide to do or not do, please just be as safe as you can, take care of your health if you can, and know that I love you and trust your decisions. And you should, too.

"aborted fetuses are not technically lives and it's harmful and not medically accurate to refer to them that way" and "people who have early miscarriages of wanted pregnancies are still allowed to grieve and consider them their child" are two statements that can and should coexist

[newobsessionweekly]

A night to remember

Part 2 of Secret signals

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x fem!reader Fandom: The rookie

Summary: Your date with Tim took an unexpected turn before confessing your feelings. And you wouldn't change a thing.

Fluff | A bit of angst

A/N: Oh, how much I enjoy writing teasing and bantering fluff. If you enjoyed the first part of Secret signals, I think you'll like this one just as much. Also, I wanted to let you know it's the last chance to leave any requests. Starting maybe next week I'll have to focus on studying for med school cuz I have the admission exam in July. Thank you for all your support and requests so far! I really appreciate every single one of you! Lots of love, bubs and take care! ❤️

Warnings: description of panick attack, not proofread yet Requested: yes Words: 4.7k GIF not mine, credits to the owner!

Lucy's eyes widened in surprise, a smile spreading across her face. "Tim Bradford, going on a date... I never thought I'd see the day," she teased, nudging him playfully.

Tim rolled his eyes, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he grumbled, his embarrassment evident.

But Lucy's grin only widened as she leaned in closer, her curiosity getting the better of her. "So, where are you taking her? Any special plans?"

Tim hesitated, his mind racing as he considered his options. "I haven't really had a chance to think about it yet because someone doesn't keep their mouth shut for a second!" he bursted, his brow furrowing in thought. "But I want it to be special."

Lucy's eyes sparkled with excitement as she leaned in closer, eager to offer her input. "Well, if you're looking for somewhere nice, you can't go wrong with 71Above," she suggested, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "It's got amazing views of the city, and the food is top-notch. Trust me, Y/N will love it."

Tim's car was parked outside your place at 9 pm sharp. You weren't ready on time, but Tim knew that. Yet, he still was there as promised, hands sweating and trembling as he moved them frantically from the steering wheel to his lap and back on the steering wheel, a milion times. He was acting silly, like a high schooler on the first date with his crush. But he couldn't help it, you weren't just a crush, you were his best friend. His rock that kept him from drifting apart so many times. And the only person he actually enjoyed.

As he glanced at his phone, he saw the time ticking away. He couldn't help but worry that listening to Angela and Lucy's advice and taking you on a date might ruin the friendship you both cherished. But at the same time, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was worth the risk.

A million thoughts race through his mind, each one more nerve-wracking than the last. What if this date ruins everything between you? What if he says or does something to make things awkward between you? What if he messes up the one chance he has to tell you how he truly feels?

With a heavy sigh, Tim pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Lucy. "If it goes wrong, you'll beg for Tim Tests." he types out, pressing send before he can second-guess himself. Lucy pressed Tim into this after all. Without her nosy personality, Tim wouldn't have acted impulsively and arranged a date for you.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you emerge from your apartment, a radiant smile gracing your lips as you approach Tim's car. You're momentarily struck by how effortlessly handsome he looks. Dressed in a casual yet sophisticated attire, Tim exudes a rugged charm that never fails to captivate you.

His breath catches in his throat at the sight of you, his heart skipping a beat as he takes in your beauty.

"Hey," you greet him, your voice soft and warm as you slide into the passenger seat beside him. "Sorry I'm late."

As Tim's eyes land on you, he can't help but feel a rush of awe. You look incredible, and he can't tear his gaze away. Your smile lights up your face, making his heart skip a beat and your eyes sparkle with warmth, drawing him in like a magnet.

Tim shakes his head, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as he meets your gaze. "No need to apologize," he says, his voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil raging inside him. "You look amazing."

A blush spreads across your cheeks at his compliment, your heart fluttering at the sincerity in his eyes. "Thanks, Tim," you reply, your voice barely more than a whisper as you fumble for words. "You're acting strange.

"No, I'm not."

Tim started the engine and pulled away from the curb, and you couldn't help but steal glances at him when he wasn't looking. There was something about the way he held himself, a quiet confidence that you found strangely alluring.

As the two of you drove through the streets of LA, the sound of the radio filling the silence between you, you found yourself lost in thought. You couldn't deny the flutter of butterflies in your stomach, the nervous anticipation of what the night might hold.

When Tim glanced over at you with a soft smile playing on his lips, you couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for the man sitting beside you.

"You know, Tim, Lucy seems pretty cool," you remarked, glancing over at him. "She's got this energy about her, like she's ready to take on the world."

Tim raised an eyebrow, a skeptical expression crossing his features. "Cool? More like a walking disaster waiting to happen and constantly sticking her nose where it doesn't belong." he retorted, his tone tinged with amusement.

You laughed, shaking your head at his blunt assessment. "Come on, Tim, give her a chance. She's just trying to find her footing," you insisted, nudging him gently.

Tim let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I'm all for giving her a chance, but she's got a long way to go before she's ready for the streets," he argued, his tone firm.

You arched an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. "Well, lucky for her, she's got the best training officer in the department to show her the ropes," you teased, earning a chuckle from Tim.

"Yeah, lucky her," he muttered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. But despite his grumbling, you could see a flicker of pride in his eyes at the mention of his role as Lucy's training officer.

As the familiar streets of LA passed by, you couldn't help but notice that Tim wasn't taking the usual route to your favorite bar. Your brow furrowed in confusion as you glanced out the window, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Uh, Tim? Are we going a different way tonight?" you asked, your voice laced with curiosity.

Tim shot you a sidelong glance, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Maybe I've got a surprise up my sleeve," he replied cryptically, a smirk playing on his lips.

Your curiosity piqued, you leaned forward in your seat, trying to catch a glimpse of your surroundings. "A surprise, huh? Well, color me intrigued," you teased, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Tim chuckled softly, the sound warm and inviting. "You'll just have to wait and see," he said, his tone playful as he focused on the road ahead.

Finally, Tim pulled the car to a stop in front of a sleek, modern building that towered above the surrounding skyline. The sign above the entrance read "71Above" in bold letters, and you couldn't help but gasp in surprise.

"Tim, is this...?" you began, trailing off as you turned to look at him, your eyes wide with disbelief.

He flashed you a grin, a hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes. "Surprise," he said simply, his voice soft yet filled with meaning.

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what Tim had done. He'd gone out of his way to take you to one of the most upscale restaurants in the city, a place you'd only ever dreamed of visiting.

As you stepped out of the car and followed Tim, a wave of excitement washed over you, your eyes sparkling with wonder. "Tim, I can't believe you brought us here!" you exclaimed, practically bouncing on your toes as you took in the elegant surroundings.

Tim glanced at you, a hint of surprise flickering across his features before a warm smile spread across his face. "Well, I'm glad you like it," he said, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

You nodded eagerly, unable to contain your enthusiasm as you rambled on about everything you'd heard about the place. "I've been wanting to come here for months! I've heard they have the most amazing views of the city from up there, and the food is supposed to be out of this world," you gushed, your words tumbling out in a rush.

Tim chuckled softly, a fondness shining in his eyes as he watched you talk. "Let's check it out, then."

As Tim led you towards the entrance, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within you. The restaurant was located on the upper floors of a towering skyscraper, its sleek glass exterior reflecting the glittering lights of the city below.

The elevator ride to the top floor was swift but exhilarating, each passing floor heightening your anticipation. When the doors opened, you were greeted by breathtaking panoramic views of the city spread out before you, the glittering lights of Los Angeles stretching as far as the eye could see.

As you followed Tim to your table by the window, you couldn't tear your gaze away from the mesmerizing sight. The city seemed to come alive beneath you, a vibrant tapestry of colors and lights that danced in the night. It was a moment of pure enchantment, and you felt a surge of excitement coursing through you as you settled in to enjoy the evening ahead.

Tim couldn't help but smile as he watched the excitement dance in your eyes, a warmth blooming in his chest at the sight of your joy. Your enthusiasm was infectious, and he found himself caught up in the moment, marveling at the beauty of the city alongside you.

"Pretty amazing, huh?" he remarked, as he followed your gaze out the window.

You turned to him with a grin, nodding enthusiastically. "It's incredible!"

As the night progressed, you and Tim found yourselves immersed in the magic of the evening. The ambience of the restaurant, the delicious food, and the lively atmosphere created the perfect backdrop for an unforgettable night.

You couldn't remember the last time you laughed that much, the sound of your laughter mingling with Tim's in a symphony of joy and happiness. Each moment spent together felt like a precious gift, a fleeting glimpse into the depths of your friendship and the possibility of something more.

Tim's infectious laughter echoed through the restaurant, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he regaled you with stories from his time on the force. His smile was like a beacon of light in the darkness, drawing you in and filling you with warmth.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. In that moment, surrounded by good food and even better company, you felt truly alive.

But amidst the laughter and the lighthearted conversation, there was something else simmering beneath the surface, something unspoken and electric. It was a tension that crackled in the air between you, a silent acknowledgment of the growing attraction that pulsed beneath the surface of your friendship.

Yet, despite the palpable chemistry between you, Tim was content to simply bask in the warmth of your presence, to lose himself in the moment and forget about the weight of his own feelings.

And as the night wore on, you found yourself falling more and more in love with him, with every smile, every laugh, every stolen glance. It was a feeling that consumed you, filling you with a sense of euphoria that you never wanted to end.

The restaurant gradually emptied, leaving only a handful of lingering patrons scattered throughout the dimly lit dining room. Tim and you found yourselves among the last remaining guests, reluctant to let go of the magic of the evening.

With a satisfied sigh, Tim leaned back in his chair, his eyes sparkling with contentment as he glanced around the nearly deserted restaurant. "I can't remember the last time I had such a great night," he admitted, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You nodded in agreement, a warm feeling spreading through you at the thought of the wonderful evening you'd shared together. "Me neither," you replied, your voice soft with emotion. "It's been amazing. I can't remember the last time you laughed that much!"

As the last of the patrons trickled out of the restaurant, Tim turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, what do you say we keep the party going somewhere else?" he suggested, his voice filled with excitement.

You raised an eyebrow in surprise, intrigued by his suggestion. "Oh? And where did you have in mind?" you asked, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Tim shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing on his lips. "I don't know, maybe we could head to a bar for a nightcap or something," he suggested, his eyes twinkling.

The idea sounded perfect to you, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of spending more time with Tim. "I'm in," you declared, a grin spreading across your face.

As you and Tim stepped into the elevator, ready to continue your evening adventure, the doors slid shut with a soft whoosh, enclosing you in the small, dimly lit space.

The elevator hummed to life, beginning its descent down to the ground floor.

But just a few floors down, the elevator jerked to a sudden halt, the lights flickering ominously before plunging you both into darkness. A chill ran down your spine as you felt the floor beneath you come to a stop, the suddenness of the situation leaving you feeling disoriented and scared.

"Tim," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the hum of the elevator. "What's happening?"

Tim's expression mirrored your own concern as he reached out to steady you, his touch warm and reassuring against your skin. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice tight with apprehension. "But it looks like we're stuck."

Panic began to rise within you as you realized the gravity of the situation. Trapped in a malfunctioning elevator with no way out, your heart raced in your chest as fear gripped you tight.

Instinctively, you sought refuge in Tim's arms, seeking comfort and safety in his familiar embrace. For a moment, you felt a sense of calm wash over you as his strong arms wrapped around you, providing a brief respite from the chaos of the situation.

But as reality sank in, you knew that you couldn't stay there forever. With a reluctant sigh, you pulled away from Tim, the weight of the situation pressing down on you once more.

"We need to figure a way to get out of here," you said, your voice determined despite the fear gnawing at your insides.

With a heavy sigh, Tim reached for the emergency call button, pressing it in hopes of summoning help. But as the seconds ticked by with no response, the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on both of you.

"We need to wait for help."

As the minutes dragged on, your panic intensified, threatening to consume you whole. The confined space of the elevator felt like a suffocating prison, each passing second amplifying your fear of being trapped so far above the ground.

Your breaths came in short, ragged gasps as your heart hammered against your chest, the darkness pressing in on you from all sides. "We're going to die in here, Tim," you choked out, your voice trembling with fear.

Tim's heart clenched at the desperation in your voice, his instincts kicking into overdrive as he moved to your side, wrapping you in his arms once more. "Hey, look at me," he urged, his voice firm yet gentle as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

"We're not going to die, I promise," he said, his words laced with a quiet confidence that helped to anchor you in the storm of your panic. "Just focus on breathing with me."

His steady voice was a lifeline in the darkness, guiding you back from the brink of despair as he led you through a series of slow, deep breaths.

But the panic was relentless, its grip tightening around your chest with each passing second. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps as your mind raced with worst-case scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last.

Tim's voice was a distant echo, his words barely registering as you struggled to regain control of your racing thoughts. But he refused to give up, his touch a steady anchor as he guided you through the storm of fear.

"Listen to my voice, focus on my words," he urged, his tone firm but gentle. "You're safe with me, Y/N. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

Tim's voice softened, his fingers gently brushing the stray strands of hair away from your face as he continued to soothe your frayed nerves. "You're doing great, Y/N. Just breathe with me, okay? In... and out."

His calming presence enveloped you like a warm embrace, his words a balm to your frazzled mind. With each inhale, you felt a sliver of tension melt away, replaced by a newfound sense of tranquility.

But even as Tim worked to calm your panic, his own worry lingered just beneath the surface. He couldn't shake the nagging fear that he wouldn't be able to keep you safe, that somehow he would fail you in your moment of need.

Yet he pushed those doubts aside, focusing all his energy on being there for you, reassuring you with every word and gesture. In that moment, nothing else mattered but your well-being, your safety.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity, the sound of your breathing gradually slowed, your panicked gasps giving way to steady, even breaths. And with each passing moment, the darkness seemed a little less suffocating, a little less daunting.

As Tim continued to hold you close, his arms a steady anchor in the darkness of the elevator, he shifted the conversation to lighter topics, hoping to distract you from the looming sense of fear.

"Remember that time we tried to build a treehouse in your backyard?" he asked, a nostalgic twinkle in his eyes.

You responded faintly, the memory flooding back vividly. "How could I forget? We ended up with a pile of sticks and a broken arm."

He grinned, shaking his head. "Yeah, and your mom nearly had a heart attack when she saw us dangling from that rope ladder."

"I still can't believe we thought we could build a treehouse with just a hammer and some nails," you admitted.

"Well, we were what, eight years old? Seemed like a good idea at the time," Tim reasoned, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"True," you agreed with a chuckle. "But I think we learned our lesson after that."

"Definitely," Tim nodded, a reminiscent smile playing on his lips. "Although, knowing us, we probably found some other scheme to get into trouble with."

"Oh, no doubt about it," you agreed, sharing a knowing look.

As the tension in the elevator began to ease, Tim shifted the conversation to another memory from your past, a smile playing on his lips as he recalled a particularly memorable event.

"Remember when we went to homecoming together?" Tim chuckled, his eyes glinting mischievously.

You cringed at the memory, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Oh, please, don't bring that up," you pleaded, shaking your head in embarrassment.

Tim grinned, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Why not? It was hilarious!"

"Yeah, for you maybe," you muttered, crossing your arms defensively.

Tim's grin softened into a warm smile as he reached out to gently touch your arm. "Hey, you looked amazing that night," he reassured you, his voice sincere.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, right. I was a total mess."

Tim shook his head, his expression earnest. "No way. You were the most beautiful girl there, hands down."

As the memories of homecoming faded, replaced by more somber recollections, you found yourself opening up to Tim about a time that had left you feeling scared and vulnerable.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself before continuing. "When you were back in Iraq, I was so scared, Tim. Every time I got a call from you, it felt like my heart was in my throat. And then those calls started getting shorter and more distant, and I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know if you were okay, if you were coming back..."

Your voice trailed off, the memories still vivid in your mind despite the passing years. Tim reached out, gently squeezing your hand in silent support as you struggled to find the words to convey the depth of your fear and uncertainty during that time.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. "I didn't mean to worry you like that."

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips despite the lingering sadness. "It's okay. You were doing your job, and I knew that. But it was hard not knowing if you were safe, if you were coming back."

Tim's gaze softened, his hand finding yours as he met your eyes with a mixture of gratitude and affection. "I'm here now," he said softly. "And I'm not going anywhere."

He paused, weighting his words,"I... I think I have feelings for you from back then," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "And the most tragic part about this is that I don’t think I can stop, even if I wanted to."

His admission hung heavy in the air between you, the weight of his words sinking in as you struggled to process the magnitude of what he was saying.

"Tim..." you breathed, your own emotions swirling as you searched for the right thing to say."I mean, I've thought about it too," you admitted, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your tone. "But I never thought you felt the same way."

A flicker of surprise crossed Tim's face, quickly replaced by a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. "You did?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, I did. And I guess... I guess I've been hoping you'd say something like this for a while now."

Tim's smile widened, a sense of relief washing over him as he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours.

"Well, I'm saying it now," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "And I meant every word of it."

Tim's touch was gentle yet electrifying, sending shivers down your spine as his fingers traced delicate patterns along your jawline. You found yourself leaning into his touch, craving the warmth and comfort he offered in that moment of uncertainty.

His hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin as he gazed into your eyes with a mixture of tenderness and longing. In that moment, it felt like the world had faded away.

With a soft sigh, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of unspoken emotion. It was a moment of surrender, of letting go of all inhibitions and fears, and allowing yourself to be consumed by the warmth of Tim's embrace.

As your lips moved together in perfect harmony, the world outside ceased to exist, replaced by the rhythmic beat of your hearts and the gentle whisper of your breath mingling in the air. It was a kiss that spoke of years of unspoken longing, of whispered confessions and silent promises, sealing a bond that had been years in the making.

The elevator finally jolted back to life, breaking the moment, but the warmth of Tim's embrace and the taste of his lips lingered on.

As the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, you and Tim stepped out into the lobby, still caught in the afterglow of your kiss. With a playful smirk, Tim nudged you gently as you made your way back to his car.

"Well, that was unexpected," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, swatting his arm lightly in retaliation. "You're one to talk. Who knew getting stuck in an elevator could be so... romantic?"

Tim chuckled, the sound warm and comforting as he unlocked the car doors. "I guess stranger things have happened," he remarked, a hint of mischief in his tone.

As you settled into the car, the tension of the past few hours melting away, you found yourself laughing as you recounted the events of the evening. From the unexpected elevator malfunction to the heart-stopping kiss that followed, it had certainly been a night to remember.

"So, remind me never to take the elevator with you again," you joked, earning a mock offended gasp from Tim.

"Hey, I'll have you know I'm a great elevator companion," he retorted, a playful glint in his eye. "Just ask anyone who's ever been stuck with me."

You laughed, shaking your head in mock disbelief. "I'll take your word for it," you replied, a smile playing on your lips as you leaned back in your seat.

As Tim started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, the warmth of his presence beside you filled you with a sense of contentment you hadn't felt in a long time. It was moments like these, filled with laughter and lighthearted banter, that made you grateful for the bond you shared with him.

"So, about what you said in the elevator," you began, breaking the comfortable silence as Tim navigated through the streets.

Tim glanced over at you, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, about that. I hope I didn't scare you off."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Not a chance. If anything, it's nice to know I'm not the only one feeling a little... sentimental."

He grinned, his gaze returning to the road ahead. "Sentimental, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?"

You shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "Hey, I'm just trying to keep it classy."

Tim chuckled, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. "Well, in that case, I guess I should apologize for any lack of classiness on my part."

You laughed, reaching over to gently nudge his arm. "No apologies necessary. Besides, I think we both know we're not exactly the poster children for romance."

Tim smirked, shooting you a sidelong glance. "Speak for yourself. I've been known to be quite the charmer when I want to be."

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a grin. "Oh, please. The only charm you have is the one you use to get out of speeding tickets."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Touché."

"You know," he continued, his voice soft, "despite all the craziness of tonight, I wouldn't change a thing."

You smiled, squeezing his hand lightly. "Me neither. Even getting stuck in that elevator couldn't ruin the night."

Tim chuckled, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "Yeah, well, I guess it's just one more adventure to add to the list."

You nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude for the shared experiences that had brought you to this moment. "I wouldn't want to go on these adventures with anyone else," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Tim's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "I feel the same way," he confessed, his words carrying a weight of sincerity that took your breath away.

In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you and the quiet hum of the car as it cruised through the night. And as you leaned in closer, the distance between you disappearing with each passing second, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you were ready to face them together, hand in hand.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! - 11

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky had no idea that someone was making an evil plan against him. He had been advising you on managing Velari’s business for the past few days.

You quickly grasped the management concepts, learning from the best, Bucky. Another reason for your quick understanding was your previous business studies at a prestigious university. However, you couldn't continue your education due to internal conflicts within your family.

That was your biggest regret. You only bark but never bite. You managed to continue your education only because Cassandra sold her jewelry. You will never forget the sacrifice she made for you. You clenched your fists, remembering the heartbreak in her eyes when she sold her cherished possessions.

But still, whenever you tried to rise, life seemed determined to bring you down again. Genevieve used all her connections to prevent you from learning business and management.

You discovered this when you confronted the dean, who said, "Mrs. Sinclair donates a lot to this university, and we don’t want to disappoint her." You had felt a cold rage, your hands trembling as you realized the extent of her influence.

Most prestigious universities denied you. The only place that accepted you was a community college, where you randomly chose to study health and physical education because, at that time, you felt utterly lost and alone.

You just wanted to get a degree, any degree. You sighed, recalling the sense of defeat and the hollow feeling in your chest as you enrolled in a field you had no passion for.

Sometimes not expecting anything gives the best gifts. The lecturer and friends you met were the most supportive and kindest people you had ever encountered. That’s how you got the job as a teacher at Granite Hills Reform School, where problematic, delinquent students from all over the country were gathered.

It was tough at first; your teachers and the principal had warned you to be careful. But you felt like you could make some changes because you knew how the students felt: not being listened to, getting bullied, not being appreciated, and being ignored. You remembered the frustration in their eyes, a mirror of your own past struggles.

Comparing the discipline required for dealing with delinquent students who always gave outrageous excuses, working at Velari seemed easier.

After redefining the clothes' design with Andrea, you felt like the old Velari was back. You never thought redoing the design would be easier than looking at the accountant's records.

It was a mess. You ran your fingers through your hair, your brow furrowed in disbelief.

You scratched your head, unable to believe how much the business was bleeding. Bucky was also reading the numbers. "If you don’t do something, Velari will be closed in two years." His tone was serious, and his eyes met yours with concern.

"Urgh." You threw your head onto the book on the table and hit it a few times in frustration.

Bucky extended his hand and placed it on your forehead. His warm hand held your head gently. "Don’t worry, you can fix this." His touch and reassuring words made you pause, feeling a flicker of hope amid the chaos.

You felt your face warm up. Bucky noticed too. "Are you having a fever?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes.

You quickly moved your head away from his hand and shook your head. "No, I guess I hit my head too hard," you replied, trying to downplay your flustered state.

The chat between you and Bucky didn’t go unnoticed by Andrea, the senior designer. She bit her lip and continued drawing, stealing glances occasionally.

Bucky cleared his throat. "If you want, we could make a press release for a new rebranding for Velari."

"That’s a good idea," you nodded. "Can we also include AstraNova Group in the press release?"

Bucky nodded. "Sure." He looked at his watch and got up. "I’ll send the PR team to help you with the press release."

"Thank you," you said, your gratitude showing in your smile. Bucky smiled back and left the room.

"It was so sweet, I can't even describe it," Andrea remarked, taking off her glasses and smirking at you.

You felt your cheeks warm up again. "It's not..."

Andrea raised her hands in a mock surrender. "I won't tease you, but I saw how he always comes here and even stays with you until late at night. It says something."

You sighed, looking down at your hands. "I don’t know... To be honest, I don’t believe in romance after what I saw happen to my parents."

Andrea nodded sympathetically. "I understand, but not every story ends the same way. Sometimes, you just have to take a chance."

Andrea sighed, then approached you and gently took both of your hands in hers. She looked at you with a mix of concern and nostalgia. She remembered the first time Ophelia brought you to the shop.

You were cheerful, always laughing at the most minor things. But everything changed after Ophelia died, and not even a year later, your father remarried. Understandably, you have trauma around love and opening your heart to another person.

“Give it a chance,” Andrea said softly, squeezing your hands. “If both of you share the same feelings, that’s good. And… if Bucky cheats, I’m sure you could give him a lesson.” Andrea chuckled, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

You chuckled too, the tension easing from your shoulders. It would be a lie if you said you didn't have feelings for Bucky. You glanced down, your cheeks flushing slightly.

Andrea noticed your expression and gave your hands another reassuring squeeze. “You deserve happiness, just like anyone else.”

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Thanks, Andrea. I'll think about it."

Andrea smiled warmly, patting your hands before letting go. “Good. Now, let’s get back to work. We’ve got a lot to do.”

👗👗👗👗👗

Since his memory returned, Bucky has been practicing touching other people. He started with his parents first. Though he still couldn’t hug them, he could hold their hands without feeling disgusted. His mom and dad were astounded and cried at the same time.

Finally, they could have physical contact with their son again without Bucky feeling nauseated or acting like they were germs. As parents, it was heartbreaking to see him struggle. The kidnapping stole Bucky and their chance to be an average family.

Juliana sipped her tea while watching her son read the newspaper. "So, today you’re going to be the honored guest at Velari?" she asked with a teasing smile.

Bucky nodded, not looking up from the paper.

"I never thought my son could be interested in fashion," she teased again, her eyes twinkling.

"Mom… I’m just… repaying the favor," Bucky replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Yeah… right," Rowan and Juliana murmured together. Because of Bucky’s condition, he never had the chance to have an intimate relationship with someone. He spent his youth only studying. So now, with Bucky and you? They couldn’t be happier.

Bucky wanted to smile at his parents' teasing but held it in. He stood from his seat, adjusting the buttons on his jacket. "I don’t want to be late."

"Why so early?" Juliana asked, looking up from her tea.

Bucky kept walking toward the door where the car was already prepared for him. "I have to stop by her house first."

"Tell her I said ‘Hi’," Juliana called after him, a knowing smile on her face.

Bucky paused at the door, turning slightly to nod before stepping outside. As he approached the car, he couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness, his heart pounding at the thought of seeing you.

🫖🫖🫖🫖🫖

Bucky arrived at your house and, as usual, greeted Cassandra first. She looked much healthier, having gained some weight since the first time he met her. Even with her dementia, Cassandra was always friendly to everyone. She was sitting in the garden with a blanket on her lap.

“Hello, Grandma,” Bucky greeted her warmly.

Cassandra’s eyes widened with recognition. “Ah, Patrick. It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it? Did you have breakfast?”

Bucky smiled softly, though he didn’t understand why she called him Patrick. After meeting a few times, she started using this name. He had mentioned it to you, but you didn’t know who Patrick was either.

“I’m sorry I made you wait,” you said, walking into the garden while adjusting your earrings.

Bucky fell silent, momentarily mesmerized by how different you looked today. Cassandra noticed, too, and clapped her hands in delight. “You look so beautiful, Ophelia. Did you make the clothes from my design again?”

You bent down and kissed her cheeks. “Yes.” Bringing your mother’s and grandmother’s designs to life was one of your greatest joys.

At least Genevieve and Victoria had never gotten their hands on the earlier designs. Kneeling beside Cassandra, you took her wrinkled hands and looked into her eyes. “I’m going to revive the old Velari.”

Cassandra tilted her head and caressed your hair gently. “I believe in you,” she said softly, her voice filled with warmth and trust.

🚗🚗🚗🚗🚗

The ride to the press release was quiet. You kept silently memorizing the speech you were going to deliver to the journalists and critics. In the fashion world, critics' words held significant weight.

Bucky sensed your nervousness. “Don’t worry. You can do this,” he said, his voice steady.

You took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Yes, I can do this.” Then, you looked at Bucky, feeling a surge of gratitude. You had reached this point mainly because of him.

“Bucky… I…” Your eyes widened when you saw Bucky’s intense focus on you, and he reached for you. “Wait…”

“Get down!” Bucky shouted, dragging your body away from the door. The movement was swift. As the car stopped at a red light, a big SUV suddenly rammed into Bucky’s car.

The car window shattered, showering you with glass. “What the fuck?” you exclaimed, feeling a mix of shock and fear.

Then you realized the person who had shielded you was trembling. You looked up to see Bucky, his face pale, his body rigid.

The traumatic memory of his kidnapping had resurfaced with startling clarity. He had just wanted to go home early from an event hosted by AstraNova, finding the party boring with no kids his age. But that decision had led to his abduction, a memory now mirrored in this moment. The nightmare was returning: the darkness, the cold, and fear.

“Bucky?” you called, trying to snap him out of his frozen state.

‘Bang.’

You hear the door closed from the SUV and see three big guys coming into your car. You saw the driver is fainted. “Shit.”

You touched Bucky's face urgently, trying to break through his fear. "Bucky, look at me! I know you're scared. Me too! But we can't stand still. We have to run. Argh…" Suddenly, strong arms grabbed you from behind.

The person was big and rough, wearing a ski mask. He muttered, "You're a firecracker, aren't ya?" His confidence wavered when you stared directly at him.

You continued kicking and squirming to escape his grasp, but his strength was overwhelming compared to your students'. Where was Bucky?

“Bucky!!!” you screamed, desperately searching for him.

“Don’t worry about him. We just want you,” the abductor sneered as he dragged you toward the waiting car.

Fear surged through you as you realized what was happening—had you just been abducted?

You kept kicking and struggling against the abductor, but he gripped your leg harder. “Be good, or I’ll break your fucking legs…”

“Help!” A voice suddenly cried out, weak and desperate.

You and your abductor both turned toward the sound.

What you saw was beyond anything you could have imagined. Bucky, whose body was smaller than the abductor's, had launched himself into action. With surprising strength and speed, he grabbed the other abductor and threw him in a wide arc.

The abductor struggled, choking and gasping for air. His resistance faded, and he went limp, unconscious. Bucky discarded him like a sack of garbage.

Your abductor's voice trembled with disbelief and frustration. “Fuck, she didn’t mention any of this.”

You were equally shocked. You had never imagined that Bucky possessed such strength and skill.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky had been quietly preparing himself for such situations. He had learned various martial arts and survival techniques, practicing diligently despite his physical limitations. Unable to spar with others, he had honed his abilities with machines and workout equipment, constantly pushing himself to the highest levels.

Now, faced with real danger, Bucky's training revealed itself. His strength and determination were beyond anything you had ever seen from him.

Andrea echoed in your mind, "If Bucky cheated, you could give him a lesson." If she could witness this moment, she would indeed be astounded.

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[suddencolds]

of painkillers and lenience

...hello! 😭 I wrote this way back in April; it's been sitting in my drafts ever since. Chronologically, it takes place shortly following Atypical Occurrence.

I wasn't sure if I was ever going to post this. I suppose it's more a character study than a proper romantic installment :') but it's an exchange I'd been wanting to write for a long time.

you can find everything I've written in this universe here!

—

Summary: Yves comes down with something. His best friend wonders where Vincent is, in all of this.

—

Perhaps it’s merciful that it’s on a Sunday that Yves wakes up with the slightest tickle in his throat.

Yves has an idea what it means. He’s had the flu enough times in his life to know that it comes on quickly. Maybe if he attempts to sleep it off, he’ll have a better time over the next few days.

Or maybe not. He cancels his Sunday plans, goes through his itinerary. There’s a slew of emails he’ll have to send off, a handful of meetings he’ll probably have to reschedule for this coming work week. He’ll need groceries, too, to last him the week—ideally something that won’t take too much effort to make. Resting now seems like it’d be a waste of time. Best to get everything over with before the illness has a chance to properly settle, he thinks. 

He really does mean to stop by the grocery store. It’s perhaps just the timing that doesn’t work out as planned. Between figuring out how to reschedule everything that’s coming up with work—figuring out who he can ask if he needs to reallocate any of his assignments to anyone else, rearranging things for clients, and getting all the paperwork in order—all of it takes him nearly two hours. He wanders into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, finds himself having to turn aside to cough, notes the unpleasant sting in his throat when he turns back around. 

It’s not terrible yet, but he feels distinctly off. His head feels a little heavy, and everything he does feels strangely—sluggish, maybe. Like he can’t quite manage to be as efficient as usual. Judging by past experience, he’s probably going to crash in a few hours.

He can already feel a headache brewing. Staring at his computer screen probably hasn’t helped with that. If he takes something for it, it’ll probably be at least tolerable when it gets worse.

He opens the medicine cabinet, rifles through the couple bottles and the first aid kit he has stashed in there.

Right. He’s out of Advil.

It’s no matter. Just a quick grocery trip, then—he can grab the rest of his groceries while he’s at it. Yves shuts the bathroom cabinet, grabs his wallet and keys, and makes it all the way to the doorstep outside when the wave of dizziness hits him.

All of a sudden, he feels a little lightheaded. Heat crawls up under his skin, prickling and unpleasant, as if something in him has cranked up the heat generation to the max—but that can’t be right, because he’s shivering inexplicably in the wake of it. He leans his weight back against the wall, squeezes his eyes shut.

Fuck. He probably should have gotten groceries first, before sorting out everything for work. Perhaps going out on his own now would not be the wisest.

He heads back in, locks the door, and—after some thought—calls Mikhail.

Mikhail picks up on the second ring. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Are you busy?” Yves starts, but the words catch on his throat, and he has to stop immediately to muffle a cough into his elbow. 

There’s a moment of silence on the other end. “It depends what you’re about to ask me for,” Mikhail says.

Yves swallows. Shuts his eyes. He doesn’t like asking for help, but he doesn’t think he’ll be in any state to be doing this on his own over the next few days. “It’s not that urgent. Just if you have time,” he says. 

He can almost feel Mikhail rolling his eyes on the other end. “You’d say that even if you were bleeding out.”

Yves laughs, startled. “I promise I’m not bleeding out. Just—do you think you could run to the store and get me some Advil?”

There’s another, longer pause on the other end. “Any time is fine,” Yves says. A part of him already regrets this. “If you’re busy right now—”

“I’ll be over in a few,” Mikhail says. Then the line goes dead.

—

He doesn’t remember drifting off, but when he wakes, it’s to a knock on the front door.

The knock is just for courtesy, of course. Mikhail is one of a few people whom he’s permitted the privilege—or the burden, perhaps—of having a spare copy of his apartment key.

Yves opens the door anyways.

There, in the windy April weather, Mikhail shuts an umbrella and leaves it dripping at his feet. “You look even worse than you sounded over call,” is the first thing he says.

Yves blinks at him, surprised. “Did I really sound that bad?”

In lieu of answering, Mikhail just looks at him, scrutinizing, the corner of his lip ticking downward. “What is it? An injury? A migraine?” When Yves shakes his head, Mikhail presses forward to pick a stray lint ball off of Yves’s shirt. His hand makes contact with Yves’s shoulder, and he frowns.

Before Yves has a chance to explain, he feels a tickle—not the first, today, and certainly not the last—surface. It’s irritatingly difficult to ignore, more irritating still when he finds himself forced to turn away, to duck into one arm—

“hHehh-!’ hEHh’yyiISCHh-HHEEW!”

The sneeze is rough enough to scrape against his throat. He coughs tightly into his raised arm.

“A cold,” Mikhail says, with a frown. “But usually you don’t take Advil for colds. Wait—don’t tell me this is something worse?”

Yves winces. What is he supposed to say to that? “The Advil was all I needed,” he says. “Thanks for making the trip. I owe you one.”

“No, I’m sure of it now,” Mikhail says. “If it were only a cold, you would’ve driven out to get this yourself.”

“It probably isn’t,” Yves says, neglecting to mention that he knows exactly where he caught this. “Thanks for bringing these. I’ll take the next couple days off. I—”

The next sneeze sneaks up on him. He ducks into his sleeve again, taking another step back.

“hHhEH’iiDzzsCHH-yYew!” The sneeze sends a burst of pain through his temples, and for a moment, he’s glad his face is too deeply buried into his sleeve for Mikhail to see.

“Does Vincent know?” Mikhail asks.

The question catches him off guard. “What?”

“That you’re apparently unwell enough to ask me to pick up Advil for you.”

Yves doesn’t like where this conversation is going. “I told you not to come if you were busy.”

“It’s not a problem,” Mikhail says. “But if you’re sick, shouldn’t he be over here, taking care of you?”

 “He’s had a really busy few weeks,” Yves says, which is true, but simultaneously might be true at any point during the year. He clears his throat. “I - coughcough - wouldn’t want him to catch this.”

“So he doesn’t even know,” Mikhail says.

…Perhaps Yves should’ve thought of a more convincing excuse. Mikhail isn’t the type of person to drop an issue after he’s raised it, and Yves had, perhaps, neglected to think about how—for all Mikhail does to appear casually disaffected—he’s one of the most perceptive people Yves has ever met. “He doesn’t have to know.”

“What are you talking about? He’s your partner. I’ll text him,” Mikhail says. It’s then when Yves recalls that Mikhail probably does have Vincent’s contact—exchanged before their trip to France, so that he could text them all to coordinate the rides to and from the airport.

“Wait,” Yves says, unable to keep the panic out of his voice. “Don’t. If you text him, he’ll - snf-! - feel obligated to come.”

Mikhail doesn’t lower his phone. “I’ll just ask him to drop by,” he says. “You can talk to him about it when he gets there.”

But that won’t happen—can’t happen—because Yves knows that if Vincent were to see him like this… 

I’d feel terrible if you caught this, he’d said. He’d sounded so upset over it. How can Yves, after all his reassurances last week, admit to him now that he’s faring badly enough to need someone to look after him? 

Besides, Vincent probably has enough on his plate already. Yves knows enough to know that in their line of work, taking time off almost always means being swamped with assignments upon return. 

“Please don’t ask him anything,” Yves says.

Mikhail looks long and hard at him. He looks as though he’s trying to puzzle something out. “Did you guys get into a fight, or something?”

“No,” Yves says. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then, if you’re on good terms, why are you so resistant to the idea of him coming over?”

Yves squeezes his eyes shut, and then opens them. He can think of a dozen more excuses to field away the questions—that isn’t the hard part. Mikhail has always been good at seeing through his bullshit, but if Yves has to steer this conversation to a close through sheer willpower, he thinks he can do it. But then again—

Maybe it’s fine, he thinks, if Mikhail knows. For better or for worse, Mikhail is his best friend. Yves knows that if he asks him to keep his mouth shut about this, he will. 

“Vincent is my coworker,” he says, slowly.

Mikhail’s eyebrows creep up. “Yes, I’m aware.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Yves says, with a cough. “He is just my coworker. Nothing else.”

The alarm that flashes across Mikhail’s face is unmissable. “You two broke up?”

And there it is—another crossroads, where Yves thinks the easiest course of action would be to reshape the current lie into a simpler one, to keep the trappings of their fake relationship intact. With anyone else, it would be easier, that is.

Yves says, honestly, “We were never together in the first place.”

“But you went with him to France,” Mikhail says, confused. “Not to mention, to Margot’s new year party, and then to Joel and Cherie’s housewarming. Are you telling me—”

“That was all an act,” Yves tells him, and waits for this information to register. “There is nothing between us that’s real. That’s the reason I haven’t called him.”

The recognition settles on Mikhail’s face. Then he laughs, a little disbelieving. “You’re really not dating him? Why would you lie about that?”

“Do you remember Margot’s party?” Yves asks. It seems like the right place to start, after everything. “Erika was there with Brendon. And I was bitter, and—to be honest, jealous—and I wanted to show her I was fine. So I asked Vincent to go with me.”

“That was months ago,” Mikhail says.

“It was easier to just keep up the act, after that.” Yves says. “Easier to have him accompany me once a month than it would have been to stage a proper breakup. But obviously, this is all temporary. I just haven’t figured out when it’s going to end.”

Mikhail is quiet for a moment. Yves looks past him, at the staircase that leads down to the first floor.

“You’ll be fine, then,” he asks. “If you two break it off.”

“Of course,” Yves says. “I know it’s going to happen someday.”

“You won’t be upset at all?”

“What is there to be upset over?”

“From the way you spoke to him, I really thought there was something there,” Mikhail says.

“He is a good liar,” Yves says.

“Maybe so,” Mikhail agrees. “But you are not.”

He says it so calmly, it barely registers as an accusation. But Yves hears it, loud and clear.

“Vincent is attractive,” Yves says. “Anyone with eyes can see that. That’s all there is to it.” it feels wrong, even as he says it. Yves has always known Vincent to be attractive—that much hasn’t changed. But he knows that the feeling in his chest when he sees him at work, in the break room, or at lunch—the unusual ache—is a little more than that. 

“Margot’s party was at the end of December,” Mikhail says. “It’s April, now. Margot wouldn’t tell you this, but since I don’t like withholding my feelings from you, I will.”

Yves waits—waits for Mikhail to tell him how all of this has been unduly dishonest, how Mikhail doesn’t appreciate having been lied to.

But Mikhail doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he says: “If you’re still intent on keeping this fake relationship up…” Here, he meets Yves’s eyes, a little sternly. “You should think about who you’re really doing it for.”

It’s only for convenience, Yves wants to say. Now that we’ve set things up already, it’s merely the path of least resistance. But that isn’t quite right, is it?

“Don’t worry about me,” Yves says, trying a smile. “Vincent and I have talked this through already. Whatever happens with our arrangement, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Mikhail says. He pockets his phone, and then hands Yves the bottle of Advil. “Sorry for the interrogation, then. If you believe it to be fine, I trust you.” Perhaps that’s the worst part of it. Mikhail has never been the type of person to stay quiet about any foreseeable problems, but Yves knows that his agreement now is not a tactical retreat, nor is it an acknowledgment that it’s not worth arguing over something they won’t agree on. Mikhail is dropping the subject because he really trusts him.

Yves just doesn’t know if that trust is justified.

Mikhail turns on his heels, steps delicately past the hinge at the bottom of the doorframe. 

Yves clears his throat. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Mikhail nods. “Feel better soon. If you need anything other than Advil, just give me a call.”

Then he’s gone. Yves shuts the front door behind him and wonders just what exactly he’s gotten himself into.

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 10 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: wrote this in between study breaks, I’m totally spent 😭😭

W/C: 3.523

part nine

"So, uh- do you have any allergies?"

I mutter awkwardly, standing in the middle of the kitchen, eyes on Jude as he sits across from me at the kitchen island.

He folds his arms across his chest, raising his head to look over at me.

"Are you planning something?" He eyes me suspiciously, causing a tired sigh to leave my mouth.

"Shut up- answer the question.." I raise my wooden spoon, threatening him.

"No, I don't have any allergies. Is that good enough?" He replies, Brum accent making him sound even more defensive.

"Ungrateful ass.." I mutter, turning around and starting to work on breakfast.

I had slept horribly after last night’s events. I'd reckon- maybe, six hours in total. It was our day off- thankfully, but that didn't mean that I trusted Jude to rummage through my house on his own while I rotted away in bed.

My dad had called earlier, wanting to explain the situation to me clearly without leaving any important details out.

Apparently, last night Jude's place was broken into again. This time, he was at home to actually witness it happen. I'm not sure what transpired between the intruder and Jude. Since, my dad had told me it would be too invasive for me to know.

From what I knew, it was the same person as last time- or how many damn times this had happened. This case had been keeping my dad busy for months now, and it only found a way to piss me off even more.

Either Jude had the shittiest security, or- did he even have security?

"Can't believe I'm cooking for you.." I mutter, hearing the drag of his house slippers against the floor as he walks up to me.

"What are you making?"

I move away, so he doesn't touch me, giving him a side eye as I crack four eggs in a pan.

"Eggs.." I say, moving back when oil splashes up.

"Can you cook?" He asks, eyes moving in between the stove and my face.

"Kind of.." I say, hesitating with my reply.

I knew how to cook the basics. Say, your pastas and soups. Though, I like to think I'm improving every time auntie Carmen comes over to show me how to cook another delicious meal.

"How do you like your eggs?" I ask, raising my head to look up at him. He has a confused expression on his face and his gaze is fixed on me.

Fuck, did that sound wrong?

"More runny or cooked?" I ask, grimacing to myself as I sprinkle salt and pepper into the pan.

"You've cooked it- enough.."

"Oh, okay.." I mentally curse at how stupid I sound, looking away from him.

I quickly plate it up for him, not forgetting the avocado and barely toasted pieces of bread.

Well, too bad for him.

We eat our breakfast without speaking to each other. I can only hear the crunch of my bread and clatter of the cutlery against the plates.

I look up at him when I've cleared my plate, wiping crumbs from the corners of my mouth.

"How long are you staying?"

"Are you trying to kick me out already?"

I give him a look, raising my brows as if to tell him he already knows my answer.

"I don't know- depends on the situation.." He says, rubbing his hands against his gray sweatpants.

I sigh, rubbing my temples in irritation.

"Where's your mom anyway?" I ask, remembering that they literally lived together.

"I made her go back to England for my brother’s games. She's always spending more time with me- felt bad for the lad.." He answers, looking away.

"Last night?" I ask, raising my voice in surprise.

"No, during international break. I wasn't playing remember.."

"Oh- that's good, I guess.." I trail off, realizing we're going to be home alone for a while.

Silence falls in between us, and I begin picking at the loose threads of my old pajama top. It was old, but so comfy to sleep in.

"Okay, uh- let's clean up, and I'll give you a quick tour of the place." I jump up from my seat, grabbing my plate off the table, and walk over to the sink.

I look back when he doesn't get up. I raise a brow, sending him a questioning look.

"What are you doing? Clean up.." I say, waving him over. I watch him grab his plate and cutlery- a comical sight that had me struggling to keep my composure.

He places the plate in front of me, looking at me like he's expecting me to do something.

I step back, folding my arms.

Woah, he looked clueless.

"Do you even know how to do- like the dishes or laundry?" I ask, eyeing him up and down.

"Not really.."

"You're what? Twenty and don't know how to do your own laundry?" I pull a horrified face.

"Do you think it's okay to freeload?" I question, immediately grabbing his wrist to drag him upstairs to the laundry room.

Did he think this was a five-star hotel or something?

"I can't believe I have to drive you there. Why don't you have a license?" I whine, walking into the bathroom and seeing him fix his hair. The array of skincare, haircare and bodycare all on the counter in front of him.

Why did I think that he only used a block of soap and aftershave?

He turns away from the mirror, taking a step closer to me as I passive aggressively grab my toothbrush.

"Why wouldn't you want to drive me?" He questions, his voice full of mockery.

I wet my toothbrush and the blob of toothpaste, starting to brush my teeth as I look up at him.

"Do you know how crazy it looks for a staff member to arrive with a player in her car?"

I mumble, probably half audible, as I spit foam into the sink.

He grimaces at me, and I watch him take a step away from me via the mirror.

"Oh, you're dramatic.." I mumble, running the brush over my teeth again.

"Everyone thinks we're together anyway- does it even matter at this point?"

I freeze, turning to him with white foam dripping down the corner of my mouth.

"That's even worse.." I shake my head, giving him a once-over before starting to rinse my mouth.

"Pre-match meal is at...?" I question, waiting for him to finish the sentence while I dry my hands and mouth.

"Half past two." He replies, making me nod.

"Okay- give me an hour.." I say, quickly running to my room to change and get ready.

It was match day against Granada. Thankfully, after this we got some more days off.

We had to get to the training center early, mainly due the fact that I had become Jude’s private driver.

When my father told me I had to drive him around, I almost fell to my knees in sheer despair, not believing the torture I had to go through.

I didn’t even get anything in return, well, maybe I’d bug my dad for another pretty handbag- or two.

Pre-match meals are usually about three to four hours before the match. Normally, I could arrive very late and still manage to snatch a nice plate, but because of Jude - that wasn't possible today, and probably until he’s moved out of my place.

y/n's only half-way through her 'getting ready' playlist when she hears multiple loud knocks on her bedroom door.

"What?! Stop banging on my door! You don't even pay rent!" She shouts over the music, watching the door handle twist.

She turns away from her vanity mirror, makeup brush in her hand, as she sees Jude walk into her room.

"Who invited you in?" She questions, gasping when he goes to sit on her nicely made bed, wrinkling the fabric.

"Me, you’re taking so-” He begins, but he's immediately cut off when she shouts.

"Wait- shut up.."

She says, turning away to sing along with the song currently playing from her phone.

"We do the things but we know it's wrong

All on my skin, you all in my palm

I sent you a envelope, came with a poem

You possess venom that came with a charm

You get the good out me when I perform

I know the bad in you, that's what I want

And you a baddie, you turnin' me on."

Seems like she forgets he's even in her room, singing along to the Future verse while she dots a good amount of blush on the apples of her cheek.

He sighs loudly, continuing to stare at her from behind. She doesn’t notice at all, now way too invested into getting ready while listening to her favorite songs.

Jude runs a frustrated hand over his face, taking in the way she sings along with the all-too-familiar-sounding song lyrics, hoping she can hurry up soon.

"Do I have to take you home too?" I ask, getting up from the comfy chair I'm in. Following Jude towards the dressing room. Relieved after a 2-0 win against Granada.

The sound of his cleats hitting the floor is loud, and I stop right at the entrance of the dressing room when he stops in his tracks.

"I can call a taxi, probably.."

I search his face for any annoyance or anger, but don't see anything like it. Instead, in a strangely familiar way- his eyes are wide and expressive. He looks more unsure and uncomfortable than I've ever seen him.

"It's fine- we're going to the same house anyway.." I whisper, dismissing his words with a wave. 

"I have to go back to the training center though.. Can you stand tagging along with me?" I question, raising my brows in anticipation.

"Yeah, I'll just get freshened up really quick.." He says, stepping inside and closing the door since he was the last player to enter.

After saying bye to everyone, I sneakily walk up to my car. Almost jumping out of my skin when I see Jude already standing at the passenger door.

"What are you- get in.." I sigh, unlocking the door and stepping in.

The ride over to the training center is awkward and quiet, to say the least. I'm not in the mood to look through my playlist- and I'm sure he isn't either, by the way he's busy scrolling on his phone.

I park my car in my designated spot in the staff parking lot, looking over at him.

"Do you want to stay in the car?" I ask, unbuckling my seatbelt, and glancing at him.

"No, I'll come with you.." He replies, stepping out of the passenger’s seat and following me inside.

"I need to leave this bag here.." I inform, locking the car as the both of us walk inside the center.

He doesn't reply, not that it's necessary.

I walk up to the office, still hearing Jude walk right behind me.

"You're following me like a lost puppy.." I mutter, unlocking the door of the room I'm supposed to leave the equipment in.

"Okay, damn, I'll be downstairs.." He sneers, turning away and leaving immediately.

I shrug to myself when he leaves, finishing my business before going down as well.

I shove my keys into my bag, swinging it on my shoulder, then go looking around for Jude.

I enter the meeting room he and other players would hang out in, but don't see him. Stepping out, I look up from the door, walking in and out of the other meeting rooms.

"Where the fuck are you?" I mutter, reaching for my phone to call him, only to remember that I don't even have his phone number.

"Looking for something?"

I almost scream out loud when I hear a deep voice behind me. I turn, trying to not look like the person scared the crap out of me.

Oh, the creepy coworker. How fun.

"No, just dropped off some equipment upstairs.." I quickly say, rubbing my hand against my jeans.

I watch his eyes flicker to the keycard around my neck, which I forgot to take off.

"Coming from Bernabéu, y/n?"

Why did he know my name?

"Yeah, busy day.."

He stares at me, not saying anything else. I mentally hype myself up to say something, maybe to learn more about him.

"What's your name? We've seen each other around, but I don't know your name.” I say, shifting nervously as his blue eyes peer into mine.

"Andrés, fitness department. I'm new.." He says, sticking out a ghostly hand for me to shake.

"Right, nice to meet you. I would introduce myself too, but you seem to know already. How come?" His grip is tight, so I tighten it even more.

Give me a rough handshake, and I’ll break your hand out of pettiness.

"Everyone here knows you.." He replies, there is a harsh, but breathiness to his voice and it causes chills to run down my spine.

I clear my throat, realizing he still hasn't let go of my hand.

"Because of my father, yeah.." I fake a chuckle, trying to pull my hand back.

"No, not because of mister l/n.." My breath hitches audibly at his tone, and I try to snatch my hand back even more forcefully.

He doesn't even flinch, continuing to stare down at me.

"y/n, here you are.." I hear a familiar voice say, breaking out of this weird fucking trance.

My head snaps up, my eyes going wide, when I see Jude stepping out of the meeting room I had not checked out yet.

I use the opportunity to snatch my hand away from Andrés, rubbing my hand to fix my blood flow.

I watch Jude give him a look, death stare imminent when he walks up to us.

"Andrés? What are you doing here, it's late." He says, for some reason, slower than I have ever heard him speak.

"Work, busy.." He answers, trying to speak English with a broken Spanish accent.

Oh, he didn't speak English?

I watch a strange interaction between them, a jumble of Spanish and English. I try my best to understand, but it seems like both men throw in some gibberish too.

Finally, when they're done with their simlish, I'm grabbed by my hand, dragged away by Jude.

"What the hell is his problem?" I exclaim, still feeling my hand ache from the pressure.

"He's been fuckin' weird, don’t like him..” He mutters, walking ahead of me while still dragging me along.

I struggle to catch up with his long strides, his warm palm pressing into mine as he looks back at me.

"You okay?" He questions, stopping abruptly, causing me to smash my face against his arm.

"Ow- not anymore.." I mutter, rubbing my nose in agony with my free hand.

"Oh- shit, sorry.." He spits, his hand still on mine. I remove my hand from my face, raising my chin to look up at him.

"Am I bleeding?" A dramatic question, but you never knew with his rock-hard, muscular- arms..

I blink up at him, feeling his hand come up to my chin. He pinches my face, making me move my head.

"No, no blood- I think.." He breathes out, eyes roaming around my face to check for any blood.

I make sudden, close eye contact with him. His brown eyes catching mine, breath fanning my face.

We stare at each other for a moment. His hand still clearly on mine while he cups my face to look at me.

I realize the position we're in and step back. I eye our intertwined hands, looking back up at him as if to tell him to let go.

He clears his throat, dropping my hand like it's hot, and stepping back.

I decide to pretend I don't give a fuck. Ignoring the drumming of my heart, and grab my car key out of my bag.

"Get in.."

"Smash.." I say, maybe for the 10th time this hour.

"Oh my days, can you stop saying that?" Jude exclaims, a bewildered expression on his face as he looks over at me.

"Can't, it's Michael B. Jordan, and you want me to sit still?" I ask, earning a grunt from him.

"You're unbelievable.."

I ignore him, continuing to drool over the screen while I shove popcorn into my mouth.

"What are you going to do? You're off for four days.." I ask, sprawled out on the couch, in front of the TV.

"I have physical therapy every day, can't leave the city.." He complains, sitting on the couch across from me.

"Oh, how inconvenient- wait, who's driving you?.."

"Don't you worry, I've got someone driving me.." He sneers, folding his arms.

I roll my eyes, going back to watch the movie on the screen.

A hot man could make a boring movie so incredibly interesting.

"I'm not home tomorrow. Will you survive being home alone for the rest of your day?" I question, flickering my eyes back to him.

"Where are you going?"

"Taking my last exam, library helps me focus better.." I stuff another handful of popcorn into my mouth.

"Last one?"

"Yeah, I need to go revise a little." I sit up, pausing the movie, and getting up from the couch.

"Have it.." I shove the bowl of popcorn into his hands, walking up the stairs to my room. Ready for this exam to be over already.

“What the fuck was that.." I whisper to myself, hitting my head on my steering wheel repeatedly. I had long driven home from the library, not caring to step out of the car, parked in the driveway.

I had studied hours on end, but when I was presented with the questions, my brain practically short circuited, causing me to blank out so much information I needed to know.

I'm on the verge of tears at this point. Normally, after the last exam of the semester, I'd be jumping from joy, but the way this exam had gone- I wanted to cry buckets of tears.

I sniffle, wiping my nose with my sleeve. Not caring about the foundation stain left on it, and grab my bag from the backseat. I get out of my car, unlocking the front door of my house quickly.

I expect the house to be quiet, but instead I hear loud music. Old 80s songs, solely about love. Music only I knew auntie Carmen loved listening to while cooking.

I drop my bag at the front door, blinking repeatedly to hide the tears in my eyes. I shrug my jacket off, the December cold had come in full force. Though, to me, nothing was worse than winter in London anyway.

"Harina, say it, young man.." I hear auntie Carmen say in Spanish, a voice following behind her.

"Harina? Harina.." A broken accented voice says. I raise my brows, my tears and worries in the back of my mind now.

Curiosity takes over, and I immediately walk towards the kitchen, where the noises are coming from.

I'm greeted by the sight of auntie Carmen and Jude standing next to each other. Both wearing aprons as they are kneading dough on the kitchen island. Flour sprinkled on the marble as I hear Jude repeat random Spanish words, often getting corrected by my auntie.

She didn't even speak a lick of English. How did they even communicate?

I clear my throat, taking their attention away from the slabs of dough on the counter.

"Oh- you're home.." She smiles warmly at me, beckoning me over with a flour-covered hand.

"What's this?" I ask, stepping closer and speaking in Spanish.

"We're making pizza from scratch, sweetie." She says, giving me a kiss on my cheek.

"With him?" I point to Jude, watching him pound the dough with unnecessary aggression.

"What do you mean? Jude is so good at this, look at him go..” She smiles, saying his name with the utmost affection. He looks up confused, but I ignore him further.

What the hell did he do to make her like him already?

"Your boyfriend is a better cook than you already..”

I pull a horrified face, eyes going wide as my arms fall to my sides. I glance at Jude, noticing that he hadn’t even flinched at the words.

Thankfully, his Spanish classes weren’t so advanced yet…

I lean in close to her, whispering, well whisper-shouting.

“He’s not my boyfriend..” I say, pulling a face. I watch the corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles.

“I know, I’m just joking. Your dad called me about this entire situation already..”

“Why would you say that, then?”

“He’s handsome, isn’t he..” She says out loud, making me facepalm.

First, he steals my dad’s time, then my house, and now my auntie?

I look at him, watching him knead the dough, a smirk forming on his face.

I want to strangle him right here and now..

It’s only been a couple days, and this was too much for me already.

[just-jordie-things]

about the blurbs, how about jjk guys knowing you have a crush on them? would they confess first or would they try to get you to admit it? (:

i love this sm bc yes they would know right away that i'm in love with them hehe

GOJO SATORU

ofc this mf knows you're into him. and of course he's going to try to get you to admit to it.

but that's a little easier said than done, because he's been flirting with you relentlessly for months, and it hasn't actually gotten him anywhere. sure, you always quip something flirty or sassy back at him, you're quick on your feet and effortlessly charming, but it always seems to end there, at the banter.

so he'd try asking you out, asking if you were free, for dinner, or a movie, or anything he could think of. but you always seemed to laugh him off, already have plans, or give him a flirty non-answer. he was starting to think you were blowing him off, and maybe he'd had you all wrong.

but nope! you're just clueless!

he realizes this one day when you call him out on yet another offer to take you to dinner.

"when have you lost all your creativity? did you finally run out of pickup lines?"

he furrows his brow at you, laughing a little out of confusion, before he realizes you're just as confused.

"(y/n), i'm asking you out,"

you blink.

"on a date"

you tilt your head at him.

"i want to go out with you, just the two of us"

"for real?" you ask, your eyes blowing wide with surprise.

"yeah for real!" satoru laughs. "i've been trying to for a while, don't tell me you haven't noticed?"

you shrug your shoulders. "i thought you were just joking around," you admit. "i'd love to go out with you"

after that it's smooth sailing for you two, but satoru will always tell other people that you rejected him repeatedly until finally giving into his charm. ___

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

to be honest... he does not know you have a crush on him, and will not figure it out unless you flat out tell him.

you learn this the hard way, after spending way too much time dropping hints- hints which you believed to be pretty strong signals of romantic interest, that megumi seemed to believe was just your personality.

you don't know how many eyelashes you plucked off his cheeks, or how many times your hand grabbed his, or rested on his arm or shoulders for just a few beats too long to be a casual touch. it was getting ridiculous. and if you didn't know better, you'd think he was just so uninterested in you that he juts ignored it all.

fortunately for him, you knew better.

and one day you couldn't keep up with all the flirting you were doing, because it wa only driving you mad!

so when the two of you are alone, you decide to just make a bigger goddamn move.

you're training together, and when you find yourself pinning megumi to the ground with a triumphant smile, you decide here goes nothing, and you lean down and kiss him. (he just looked so pretty underneath you!)

when you lean back, staring at him with wide eye to gauge his reaction, you find yourself holding your breath.

he looks surprised at first, but then he furrows his brows.

"was that supposed to throw me off?" he asks. "because that's good, I definitely wasn't expecting that. but I don't think you should be kissing curses, (y/n), that's kinda weird"

it's so cute how confused he is, but you can't help but sigh, and hang your head. how did he still not get it?

"no, dummy, i just wanted to kiss you"

there's a flicker of realization in his eyes, and a quick blush blooming across his face. he definitely realizes then all the little things he'd found cute about you, were just you trying to tell him you liked him. like-liked him.

later when he relays this story to yuuji and nobara, they laugh at him, because they'd thought you two had been together all this time. ___

OKKOTSU YUUTA

when yuuta starts to notice a change in your behavior, he picks up on your crush instantly.

your small chats during study sessions turned into lengthy conversations while wandering around campus late at night. eye contact was more often fleeting, and now accompanied with a blush. it also helped that maki and panda had eagerly told him how you always found a way to bring him up in conversation.

that was the icing on the cake, and yuuta was just over the moon at the thought of you crushing on him, because of course he shared your feelings! how could he not? you'd quickly become his favorite person to talk to, and your smile never failed to brighten his day.

so after his friends had given him a little slice of certainty that you had more than platonic feelings for him, yuuta decided to do something about it.

you're walking around campus as usual one night, enjoying the sunset and each other's company, when you notice a piece of dandelion fluff that had gotten stuck in his hair. you're quick to stop him and carefully retrieve the tuft of white, before presenting it before him on your fingertips, insisting he had to make a wish.

"i think that only counts when they're still on the stem" he chuckles at your antics.

"i won't tell," you whisper like it's a secret worthy of you taking to the grave. "just do it before i steal it"

you're smiling and blushing because you're standing so close to him and he hasn't stopped staring at you and it's starting to turn your brain and heart to mush. so yuuta tips his head and blows on the fluff, sending it off with the breeze once more.

you grin, more joyous than he was about a childish superstition, but he had to admit seeing you so happy made him want to go find a hundred more dandelions with you.

"i like you so much," he says, and your whole body is filled with a comforting warmth. "i wished you'd just ask me out already"

with wide eyes and parted lips, a small gasp of nervous laughter bubbled out of you.

"you wished that i asked you out?" you repeat.

"sure did," yuuta says with a proud smile, knowing his wish went to good use. "been waitin', you know"

your brows draw together, but you're smiling, no, beaming. you're absolutely glowing before him.

"i've been waiting for you to ask me out" you admit softly, your nose and cheeks dusting with color.

with only a little shyness, yuuta reaches out to take your hand in his, your fingers carefully slotting together in a rehearsed dance you'd never taken part of before.

"well now we'll have to find another dandelion" he hums, making you giggle.

he's only joking of course, but when he does find one later in your walk, he insists it's your turn to make your wish. once the fluffy seeds are blown into the air, he leans in to steal your lips in a kiss. ___

INUMAKI TOGE

toge has known about your feelings for him for months now, and he's certain he's done everything he can to just get you to confess already. he's texting you through all hours of the day, complete with good morning and goodnight texts. he's written you flirty little notes (which he's seen you keep in the inside cover of your notebook to keep it protected!) and he's given you a few fleeting cheek kisses here and there!

the guy could only speak in onigiri ingredients, couldn't you throw him a bone and confess your undying love for him already? it was starting to make him grumpy.

you're oblivious to his own flirtations and attempts to get your confession, and he knows this. so he knew he had to take a dramatic leap of faith to get you to admit your feelings, once and for all.

he kidnaps you.

not really... but he does hide out in a utility closet until he hears you passing and yanks you in there with him. your yelp of surprise is quickly silenced by a hand to your mouth, and as soon as you see it's toge, you relax.

"fuck you scared me," you sigh when he pulls his hand away. "don't do that! if you wanted to talk to me, you could've just texted me" you scold.

he shrugs and gives you a sheepish grin, which makes you realize he's unzipped his collar and seeing his whole face is enough to make your knees weak.

he gestures to you, before waving his hands around the small space. you glance around the closet, wincing, not understanding why you had to meet in here.

"my room would have been just as private..." you say, your eyes landing on an open gallon of bleach on a shelf.

you supposed there weren't regular health inspections at a place like this.

"what did you need to talk about in private anyways?" you ask, choosing to ignore that you were probably inhaling a lot of chemicals right now.

or were you just feeling dizzy because you were so close to him and his face was just so pretty and he's staring at you with those pretty purple eyes-?

toge points to you, and then to himself. "salmon"

you giggle, not quite grasping the specifics of what he wanted to say, but feeling flattered nonetheless. toge frowns.

"what?" you poke at his chin to question him on the long face.

toge points his finger at you again, this time for longer, as if that was the part you weren't understanding. then he brings both hands together to draw the shape of a heart in front of you. you giggle at this again, but don't cut him off. he ends his silent statement by shoving his finger into his chest.

"i love you?" you say, too focused on the guessing game to realize what you were actually saying, but as soon as the words leave your mouth, your eyes are widening and your cheeks are darkening.

toge seems victorious, grinning widely now and nodding his head. you're still stunned frozen as he repeats his gesture again, this time pointing to himself before pointing to you, and then holding up two fingers.

it was his crude way of saying I love you too.

your shock relaxes into ease when you realize he'd wanted your confession so that he could make his own, and he wasn't about to tease you relentlessly for your feelings.

his hands grab your own, pulling you towards him, but just before he can slant his lips on yours, you shake your head.

"there's way too many open chemicals to hang out in here any longer," you say, reaching for the door behind him and shoving him out of the closet. "let's go somewhere else"

you didn't have to tell him twice, he's happy to drag you throughout the halls towards his room. ___

a/n: wanna make the yuuta one a full fic now :(

xoxo ~ jordie

[lets-try-some-writing]

Do you have any tip on writing character that smarter than you? Like I need to write about prowl solving case, but I barely passed my math exam.

I do have a few tips!

One, research. The more you know about a subject matter yourself, the more you can BS your way through it. You don't have to go write a thesis or anything like that, but knowing key phrases, terms, and ideas can help you make crap up on the fly. For example, if you want to write a battle scene, do a quick look into a historical figure who you want to model your character after. Look at an interesting battle and analyze key elements. Then take the vague overview of it and go buck wild. Throw it into a blender in order to create a believable plan/tactic for your character to follow.

Two, foreshadow and develop a reputation. This will cover for a lot of things for your character and save you the slog of explaining everything. If your character is established to have a reputation for being intelligent and/or capable, you can have your character glance over things and leave readers confident that something was actually accomplished. Of course, you need to be careful with this. If you establish your character to be a brutal strategist and then have said character go out of their way to care about civilians the next moment, you will run into problems with consistency.

Three, include other characters in the scene. You can draw attention away from your own lack of knowledge by having several things moving at once to add to the overall scene. A character can look far more complex and wise if they are seen interacting with others and using different tools to help accomplish their goals. Not everyone can be Sherlock Holmes. Some characters can express their cunning and intelligence via interacting with others and through dialogue. Be careful not to be too hamfisted with it though, otherwise it feels forced. I personally tend to spend chapters upon chapters foreshadowing and establishing the capabilities and reputation of a character that is meant to be smarter than me.

Four, lean on a character's traits. If you are writing a character with highly noticeable traits, you can lean on those to help rationalize their actions even if they end up being inconsistent later. I am personally a huge fan of this since emotion can make an otherwise very intelligent character brutally ineffective in the right situation.

Regarding your example of Prowl, I would first study whatever it is he is meant to be looking into. If it's a murder, I'd look into a few interesting real life murder cases for example. I personally studied true crime to write Prowl chapters in my fic. Then, apply that basic knowledge and have Prowl be capable of assessing the situation quickly and logically. Next, or perhaps also first, I would establish his reputation and background to give him a base of knowledge that is believable. This can be done through background dialogue, his thoughts, or through setting details.

Then, to really sell it, I would have Prowl contact associates, dig up old data, and otherwise showcase his knowledge base and intelligence through organic means. Pulling up other characters can make him seem far more calculating than you, the author, may be. And lastly, I would pull on his lack of empathy to help guide how he makes his decisions. This way, you can still slip up a bit as an Author in his conclusions so long as they relate back to Prowl's weaknesses somehow.

These are rather vague, but I hope this helps!

[the-mad-starker]

Starkercest Smut: Quick Tips For Satisfying An Alpha (1/3)

For TSToT and Starker Battleship!!

Figured I'd post this in and I'ma try to finish chapter 2 so I can attack Spidey team over at @starker-battleship !! Not gonna reveal my prompts just yet but they're very typical of me haha 😮

Notes: Omegaverse, starkercest, alpha tony, omega Peter, intersex Omegas, Size Kink, ambiguous age but underaged, tags to be updated

Rating: E

WC: 2606 (AO3 Link)

💗💗💗

When Peter Stark walked into Omega Ed., he wasn't sure what to expect but it surely hadn't been this.

The sex ed class for omegas that he'd been required to attend was just so dry. He hadn't had any real expectations though. If anything, he thought he'd end up leaving with a bright red face because learning about those things with his peers just seemed… embarrassing?

But no. Whatever Peter had expected, it was worse because it was boring. The omega instructor was a stickler for facts, which, yeah, those were super important, but Peter wanted to know stuff beyond what he could find in textbooks.

For the first week, they had to study the anatomy of all sub-genders. Peter learned a lot, for sure. He learned just how knotting happened, how female alphas’ pensies were different from males, and that male omegas had two internal erogenous spots compared to female omegas who only had one. That kind of information was an eye opener, but even then, it was all… very scientific and therefore, not at all what he thought sex ed would be like.

He'd been raised by a very sex-positive parent so it wasn't surprising that Peter had questions. Unfortunately, Peter realized pretty early on that what he had wanted from the class was guidance and a more real life approach than the in-depth diagrams and plastic models that his instructor showed them.

Like Peter now knew about the prostate and g-spot for omegas, but how do you stimulate them? What did that even feel like? He read somewhere that prostate stimulation for some males was uncomfortable but was that across all males? Or were omegas an exception? Or maybe just alphas? Beta males?

He had so many questions but the instructor didn't seem inclined to answer them. It was always a gentle but firm decision to turn back to the books and a dismissive answer that wasn't an answer at all.

It was great, then, that Peter had such an accommodating parent. His dad had never held back on giving him the truth, at least not since he was maybe five years old and had accidentally tugged Santa’s beard off only to be met with his dad’s chagrined face.

His dad wouldn't sugarcoat things for him and he’d finally get the answers he wanted.

Peter set his plan into motion on a nice Saturday morning. The freshly ground coffee beans were brewing and just as expected, the smell of it lured his alpha father out of his room.

Peter watched as his dad went straight for the coffee pot, eyes assessing the alpha over the rim of his cup of orange juice.

His father was the epitome of what an alpha should be, Peter recalled all the social media claiming. His classmates often teased him for having a hunk of an alpha as a father. Add to the fact that his dad was also single… and his father didn't discriminate between genders… and he was rich and handsome…

Peter frowned and took a sip of his OJ.

He tried to look at his dad like his classmates did. Look beyond his quirky lovable father to see the alpha that teens his age drooled after.

Surprisingly, it wasn't hard because as he already acknowledged… His dad really was the perfect alpha.

Alpha genes really were something. Alphas were just naturally taller, broader, and stronger. Put an alpha next to an omega, and these physical attributes were even more exaggerated. Alphas had a more muscular physique compared to an omega’s softer, leaner body.

And that was just the genes influencing an alpha. Of course, like any normal person, if they didn't take advantage of it, an alpha can squander those built in boosts and end up as unhealthy as any other. Not even superior alpha genes could help someone if they didn't take care of themselves.

But Tony Stark didn't have that problem. Peter’s gaze lingered over his lightly muscled arms, his broad shoulders, and the defined muscles of his back through his thin white undershirt. His dad, courtesy of Peter’s insistence, ate healthy and, despite his grumbling, worked out regularly.

“Morning, kid,” his dad's voice rumbled, rough from sleep. It sent something foreign but exciting shooting through Peter's body.

He stood up, setting his OJ aside, and like many sleepy mornings before, he hugged his dad from behind as Tony readied his coffee.

With his face pressed against his dad’s back, Peter breathed in the comforting scent of his alpha. This close, he could smell his own scent mixed in, and before he knew it, a purr rumbled in his chest.

His dad had never been able to resist Peter’s purring and it said a lot that his attention immediately went from his precious coffee to his even more precious son.

Tony turned and gathered Peter in his arms and the omega melted right into his embrace.

As a male omega, Peter stood at a respectable 5’7 height, but in his daddy’s arms, he felt so small and precious. He rested his cheek on his dad’s chest, the firm muscle of his pecs a perfect cushion. Their eyes met and Peter’s purr grew louder which only made the fond smile on Tony’s face grow wider.

“Alright, Pete, what is it?” Tony laughed, hugging him tight. “You've ambushed me before my coffee and you're purring up a storm so you're up to something. Give your old man a break and out with it.”

Peter pouted but he let his purring taper off before it stopped completely.

“First off, you're not old, Dad,” Peter had to protest.

Yeah, his dad had some silvers and grays in his hair and beard, but he was far from old. He was still in the prime of his life as far as Peter was concerned.

“Mhmm.”

Tony wouldn't be so easily distracted so Peter adopted his best puppy eyes look. Wide round honey brown eyes and just the slightest downturn of his lips completed the pouty look.

“Ouch, pulling out the big guns,” his dad dramatically sighed.

“Dad… You know they put me in omega ed this year, right?” Peter started.

“Mhmm, I had to sign off on it 'cause you know how some parents get about that stuff,” Tony said then raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Do you want out or something?”

Peter paused but then shook his head.

“No, not really,” Peter decided, “I'm learning some stuff but it's…” How could he explain that it wasn't giving him what he wanted?

“Not what you expected, huh?” His dad hummed in understanding.

Peter instantly lit up, pleased that his father just understood him right off the bat.

“Yeah! I mean, I've tried asking questions but it always goes back to–” Here, Peter pitched his voice to a soft almost condescending tone, “This is not that type of class, Peter. I don't think your parents would appreciate it if I indulged in those kinds of questions, Peter. This class is just to help you get a better understanding of how your body works.”

Peter huffed by the end of his mini rant and immediately, his dad soothed him with a few strokes to his hair.

“Yeah, I get it,” His dad indulged him, “So what can I do, hmm? The classes that’ll scratch that itch in your brain are probably college courses. Psych classes if you're interested in the bonding aspect or maybe those general Alpha-Beta-Omega classes… We can look into some AP classes or some online classes…?”

Peter briefly thought about it but then shook his head.

“I don't think my interest is that deep,” he explained to his dad. “At least not yet? I just want… something more informative or uhh… something more real life than diagrams and stuff…”

Throughout the entire exchange, Tony maintained eye contact with him, probably to show he took Peter’s concerns seriously. Peter loved that about his dad but for the first time, the young omega hesitated. He didn't think it was weird for him to ask his dad but maybe it was weird in general?

They had a strong bond but surely, there were limits and lines between father and son that couldn't– shouldn't be crossed.

He's already gotten this far, though, and with his dad now alerted to a problem, Tony definitely wouldn't let it go unless Peter begged him to drop it.

But the thing is… Peter didn't want to drop the subject. This was his life, his future, and his understanding of what being an omega meant. He trusted that his dad would always have his best interest at heart, that he loved him no matter what and no matter what questions Peter asked.

There was no one he trusted more so Peter took the jump.

“I thought maybe… you can help me?”

There, it was out there in the open.

There was a moment of silence where Peter felt blood rush up to his cheeks and flush down his neck. This was probably the craziest thing he'd ask from his dad.

“You… want me to talk about my, uh, dating…. life…?” Tony asked, puzzled.

With that, Peter instantly relaxed but he did make a sour face at the question itself. He didn't want to know anything about the many alphas, betas, or omegas that had caught his father’s interest in the past. He didn't even try to parse the fact that it was other people getting intimate with his dad that bothered him, not the fact that it was his dad at all.

“Nooo thank you,” Peter denied very quickly. Rando strangers getting their grubby hands all over his amazing father? Gross.

“Not like I have much of one,” Tony sighed then ruffled Peter’s hair again, this time a little roughly, “Too busy with this little troublemaker here.”

Peter grabbed his dad’s wrist and set his teeth to the skin there in a playful bite. And like the good daddy he was, Tony pretended to be seriously injured.

“Oww, what a feral feisty omega I've raised,” Tony bemoaned as he tested the hold that Peter’s teeth on him.

Peter let go but still held onto his dad’s hand. The embarrassment had died down with their interaction. His dad always knew how to make Peter feel better.

“I don't wanna know about your past flings,” Peter told Tony seriously. “But I wanna know things about… alphas… And I've looked into some stuff but none of them were…” Just thinking about all the ridiculous porn he’d stumbled across in his research made him feel hot all over.

“...Credible…” Peter coughed.

His alpha gave him a look, no doubt realizing what his sources were.

“So what… you want like… tips?” Tony asked hesitatingly. “About alphas?”

“Maybe?” Peter answered, also a bit doubtful. He wasn't sure tips was the right word because he wanted something more than that. “...Would it be too much to like…”

Why was this so hard! Peter wanted nothing more than to bite his dad’s hand again, just so the words wouldn't come out. But he was a Stark and even though they were bonafide geniuses, they were also idiots with idiot planning at times.

Maybe he should've put more thought into this. His dad would never do anything to hurt him or make fun of him for his questions. The worst that could happen would be his father saying no and setting up some online learning and getting actual credible sources… But this was what Peter wanted.

He just wanted his emotional support alpha, who happened to be his dad, to hold his hand through all of it.

That was what he wanted. If he could have it. But first, he'd have to ask.

Peter firmed his resolve and then looked up from where he’d been staring at their clasped hands.

“I think I do want tips and… maybe some… hands-on experience…?” Peter tacked on the last bit, unsure of what his dad’s response would be.

Tony’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“Oh,” was his dad’s response. The request was definitely a surprise, but it wasn't a no.

Peter looked at his dad, hopeful and uncertain. Terrified but excited.

Maybe… maybe…??

His daddy took in his puppy eyes and Peter could see the second he gave in.

“Ohh, boy,” his dad groaned, “you're so vicious, Pete. At least let me have my coffee before you throw something like this at your old man. I can't believe my baby boy would pop this question before I've even had a sip to wake up.”

That sounded like a yes! Well, not a definite yes, but Peter knew his dad and that was a yes for sure.

He pecked a kiss on Tony’s cheek, his face making some weird expression because he was trying not to smile.

Peter quickly retreated back to his OJ, leaving his father to his coffee. He did have a bounce in his step.

He watched eagerly as Tony poured way too much sugar into his coffee. He didn't even make a peep as his dad stirred for a bit before taking his first sip.

He waited patiently and when his dad finally looked at him, their eyes met over the rim of their cups. It felt like something seemed to sizzle between them, some irreversible change that Peter didn't understand.

“Alright,” his dad said once he'd gathered his thoughts. “So my baby boy wants his daddy to teach him about being an omega and what to expect from alphas. Is that it?”

Peter’s breath hitched as he saw the look in his father's eyes. Dark and calculating. The mood was entirely different now and Peter’s heart fluttered as anticipation took over.

“Y-yeah, I mean, yes, Daddy,” Peter tried to sound so confident like a strong omega who knows what he wanted but the words came out coquettish and shy.

That only made his dad hum thoughtfully.

“Alright, Pete,” Tony affirmed, “This… Whatever this is… You gotta be sure, kid, that this is what you want. I’ll always stop if you want me to or you decide to call it off– but some things you can't pretend never happened once you've done ‘em. If you know what I mean.”

Peter did know. Theoretically. Or at least he’d thought about it briefly. Even now, he was sure this was what he wanted.

“I'm sure,” Peter said with all the confidence of a teen who only had a tiny inkling of what he was getting into.

“Good,” his dad said and Peter sighed in relief at the acceptance. He smiled at his father, only for his breath to catch because…

For the very first time, the person looking at him wasn't his patient loving father, but an alpha assessing a potential omega.

Oh…

His dad was already starting without realizing it. With just that one look, Peter was already learning what it meant for an alpha to look at an omega like that. It made him feel… he wasn't sure what but he liked it.

His gaze dropped but then flirted back up. His dad smirked at him, knowingly, and Peter agonized over what that smirk meant. His dad always seemed to know what was on his mind, did he know what he was doing to his own son, even now?

Peter’s hands tightened on his drink, cheeks flushed like he'd been drinking wine instead of juice. Was this how omegas felt when alphas gave them attention…?

If so… Peter liked it. He liked it a lot.

The omega squirmed in his seat, surprised but excited by the indescribable look in his father's eyes.

He couldn't wait to learn what it meant.

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 22.

Summary: After mostly resolving your issues regarding Oliver and Venetia, it's much easier to enjoy the time leading up to the dinner with the Henrys. Still, Oliver seems more than a little nervous to be around you and Felix, much to Felix's ongoing chagrin. He wonders how long it will take for Oliver to take the hint.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

A/N: 3044 words. oh yeah, its all coming together. :) i know the last few updates have been kind of spaced out, so i'd love to get some feedback from you lovely folks about how you think it's coming along now that we're in the back half.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

One day - probably one day soon - you'd have to tell Felix the truth about Oliver and Venetia. By that time, you reasoned, you'd have come up with a way to say it that would make him see why you hadn't called Oliver out for lying, and why you'd kept it from him. His gut reaction, like your own, was to immediately jump to the worst possible, malevolent conclusion. Based on past events, it was a sound conclusion to jump to. But Oliver's not Eddie. It was a moment of weakness, and Oliver really does love Felix. Somehow you'd find a way to make this painless, perhaps even a way to show how much Oliver cared, because that's what you'd seen, that's the why behind your own deception.

Except Felix wasn't even ready to admit out loud to himself, let alone you, or god forbid Oliver, that he genuinely felt that way about him. Even if he definitely, clearly did. But again, past heartbreak makes some of his trepidation far more excusable.

At least you have a distraction for the afternoon - not Oliver, no, he would never be so bold in direct sunlight as to do anything more than make out with you on the pool lounge. No, this distraction wasn't a particularly good one.

The NDA from your parents, sitting in your study.

Part of you knows you should probably have a lawyer look over this, but there was something about the idea of involving yet another person in your parents ongoing attempts to abandoned you that left a sour taste in your mouth. So that left you to look over it all on your own. The sticky-hot afternoon in the study wears thin on your nerves, but irritation was all that ever came of it, not upset or disappointment. Reconciling with Oliver probably had quite a bit to do with it.

Dinner is a welcome reprieve. When Oliver smiles at you across the table, there's a weight that's lifted from your shoulders are you smile back. Felix too is in notably high spirits, though he's decidedly not talking to Venetia; his parents don't seem to mind, however, as long as he's happier than when he'd started the day.

"Is there anything planned for after dinner?" Oliver asked, eyes wide and earnest as he looks around the table, all present sharing an equally confused look as if one of them may have planned something all the others had forgotten.

"Not as far as I'm aware," Sir James offers after a moment.

"Tomorrow will be quite the busy night," Elspeth elaborates with ease, "I'm sure we'd all like to conserve our energy."

"Last chance to cancel dinner with the Henrys," Felix says, already knowing it's not a real option, even after Elspeth chides him for the suggestion, that they'd already had all the food brought and extra help hired.

"Has the seating chart been organised yet?" You asked hopefully, to which Elspeth smiled when her gaze landed upon you, assuring you she'd finalised it that afternoon, turning only to remind Duncan to have it delivered to your study that evening.

"You'll be seated next to Henry of Suffolk, dear," she also tells you, and immediately you're filing that information away in the back of your mind. Henry of Suffolk, partner at Richmond & Suffolk Legal; his late wife was named Clarice, he had a daughter and son a few years younger than you... their names escaped you at that moment.

Beside you, Felix is shamelessly admiring you.

"What?" You ducked your head to try and hide your embarrassed grin.

"Just watching your mind work," he teased with a laugh which had you rolling your eyes with fond exasperation.

"So you can see the cogs too then?" Venetia giggles across the table, though Farleigh chimes in before Felix has the chance to give his sister a look.

"Surprised there's not steam coming out of their ears."

"I'm not a robot," you insisted, flustered by the attention and their combined teasing.

"Just your beautiful brain then," Oliver adds fondly, and out of sheer surprise you look up to meet his endeared gaze as he looks back at you. When had he been let in on that particular joke, you wondered? Something in the back of your mind is sure that it was Venetia, after all, she was the one who most often referred to your 'robot brain' as such, but you don't have it in you to be upset. You never do at these jokes, even though you may occasionally protest about them, they're always intended as a compliment.

And there's no way you could be mad with Oliver looking at you like that.

Dinner continues on with very little fuss after that, and you return to your study feeling much lighter than you had before. Felix joins you, complaining about how you'd spent all afternoon in here, and he couldn't bare to think of you spend all evening alone in here too. Of course he knows that Oliver will more than likely join you when it gets late enough, but he's brought a book, and has quietly claimed the sofa beneath the window for himself. These nights have never been uncommon, but this Summer has seemed especially busy at Saltburn, so you more than welcome his quiet company as the day's heat slowly burns away.

It's not long before there's someone approaching your door.

"It's Duncan," you say, mostly for Felix's benefit, before the butler himself knocks and you invite him in.

"The seating arrangements for tomorrow night's event, Captain," Duncan says graciously, giving you the faintest smile as he hands the document over and turns swiftly on his heel, practically evaporating into the darkness of the house silently.

"Still have no idea how you do that," Felix sounds rather impressed from where he's draped himself over the sofa.

"Do what?" You asked distractedly, examining the seating chart in the golden glow of the lamp.

"How you know exactly who's coming and going without even seeing them."

"Duncan was just being courteous for me," you mutter off-handily, "if I'd heard nothing before he'd knocked, I'd still know it was him."

"You know that's even more impressive, right?" Felix laughs, and finally you turn to him, only to see him watching you like he can't quite believe what you're saying. Sometimes you find yourself surprised by the Cattons, and how little they seem to understand or appreciate about the Estate on which they live.

"No, what's impressive is that I can tell what kind of mood your in half the time just by the sound of your footsteps," you tells him with a grin.

"Now you're lying," Felix snorts, shaking his head. But you continue.

"No, seriously Fi, it's not always entirely accurate, but it's pretty close; I'm not quite there with the rest of your family, but I think I know you well enough."

"That's like, stalker levels of dedication," but his smile is bright in the light of the moon, and his tone turns teasing, "do you have a thing for me or something?"

"I wouldn't go that far," you huffed a laugh, playing along with the bit.

"Shame," he sighed dramatically, "I was really hoping you did, 'cos I kind of have a thing for you."

"I wouldn't if I were you," finally standing, you sauntered over to him, smirking as he beamed up at you, thoroughly pleased by this silly little bit, "that sounds like a scandal waiting to happen."

"Call the tabloids then," Felix laughed softly as he welcomed you into his arms.

"Any stalker-like tendencies of yours I should be worried about?" You asked, settling against him, leaning into him.

"Yeah, I've got a bunch of your things in my room," Felix murmurs right before you kiss him, grinning as you do so. Things devolve from there to the two of you making out in the moonlight, giggling together, teasing nonsense passed back and forth as the moon rose higher in the sky.

"Ollie's at the door," you see fit to finally tell Felix, who looks down at you with wide, surprised eyes. Sheepishly you admit, "he's been there for like five minutes." It's getting terribly late, but you really don't want to go bed right now, or go anywhere that isn't here, in this moment. Felix snorts a laugh, face scrunching up with something close to embarrassment; he knows letting Oliver get away with this kind of thing is part of the game you're all playing, but it still catches him off guard with just how aware you were of the whole situation.

"Ollie," Felix called out, and you both heard a him start behind the study door, "Christ, mate, don't linger," he insists, righting both him and yourself to something more respectable on the sofa, but still insisting on holding you close, "come in already." You're practically in his lap.

Like a deer in the headlights, looking absolutely mortified at being caught out, Oliver pushes the door open and faintly apologises, telling you both he didn't want to interrupt.

"Interrupt what?" Felix says far too easily, smile wide and a bit coy, "nothing to interrupt," though you can hear it for what it is; nothing you, Oliver, could ever interrupt if you simply asked to join. How long would it take Oliver to realise this, you wondered; Felix is getting less subtle by the day.

"I was going to ask -" Oliver pauses, focus stolen by the way Felix presses a kiss to your shoulder, before his gaze returns to your face, your expectant smile. Felix knows exactly what he's doing, "um, was going to ask about the seats for the dinner tomorrow?" Oliver manages, "I don't... know the Henrys?"

As you stand, Felix lets out a loud, disappointed sigh, but lets you go, returning to his book. Every movement, every sound Felix makes captivates Oliver in this moment, and both you and Felix are more than aware of this. Still, you swan over to your desk, looking over the seating chart before you usher Oliver over.

"They've got you next to Ven and Lady Daphne," you show him, pointing out his place along the table, "she's Henry's wife," you add wryly, and hear Felix bark a laugh behind you. Oliver, for a moment, seems confused, gaze flicking between you both.

"Aren't all the -?"

"That's the joke, Ollie," you tell him, but he still seems too nervous to properly see the humour in it, just making a faint noise of understanding in the back of his throat. "Did you want to hang out for a bit?" You offered, "this contract's doing my head in," you flicked at the thick contract on your desk dismissively, "so I'm probably going to get stuck into something lighter, but you know we always love your company."

"Thanks, but, uh," Oliver hesitated, looking to Felix again, "I think I'm gonna turn in for the night."

"Okay," you say sunnily, leaning over to give him a quick peck on the lips, which seems to startle him, "hope you sleep well, Ollie."

"Yeah," Oliver still seems to be reeling from the brief show of affection, "you too."

"Good night, mate," Felix offers with a cheery wave.

"You going to kiss me good night too?" Oliver sounds almost dazed, and suddenly looks mortified once more, like he can't quite believe he'd said that. Felix, unphased, stands and makes his way over to you both.

"Sure," he seems to take the suggestion in stride, kissing the top of Oliver's head before he bends to quickly kiss him on the lips. For a moment after Felix has pulled back, Oliver's look at him like he's staring at the sun, and Felix is wearing a sharp, knowing smile, "'night, Ollie," he says, quieter this time.

"G'night, Felix," Oliver murmurs, making his way to the door as Felix nonchalantly reaches to take the seating chart from your hand to look it over for himself. You, however, watch Oliver go, feeling both helpless and amused all at once.

"You think if I fuck him he'll take the hint?" Felix asks quietly once the door was shut, and you'd both heard Oliver's door squeak closed for the night.

"Do you think if you fuck him you'll take the hint," you asked disbelievingly, "that man is so into you, Fi," you hissed, almost furiously wide-eyed as you looked up at him. As always, Felix responds dismissively.

"Told you I'm not saying anything until he does," Felix puts the document down, choosing instead to drape his arms over your shoulders, "we can fuck around all Summer for all I care, but you know I'm not going to hold my breath for things to get more serious unless he tells me."

"He just asked you to kiss him, Felix!"

"I wasn't in love with you when we first kissed."

"Bad example; yes you were."

"Okay, bad example, yes I was," Felix admits with a faint flush, "but for the record, I didn't think I was at the time; we were twelve," he regains his composure quickly, "but it's not like you're in love with Farleigh or my sister; yeah, I know you love them, but you're not in love with them."

"That's different, Fi, we've been fucking around since forever," you sighed, resting your head against him for a moment.

"It's not different," Felix insists, "I just-" but he paused, and when you chance a look up at him, his face is scrunched up, like he's on the verge of admitting something he really doesn't want to, "I don't want to be getting my hopes up if it's just fucking around with Ollie, you know?" It comes out far more frustrated than you'd anticipated, and though you pat his back comfortingly, you can't help but add -

"He drank your bathwater."

"He fucking watched me get myself off and didn't even do anything about it until after it happened! And not even with me!" Felix points out, sounding almost like a petulant child, "I left the fucking door open and everything!" He's pouting now, actually pouting.

"He probably thinks that if he's too forward he'll scare you off, or your parents will kick him out or something," you tried to reason with him, to which Felix groaned.

"But they won't! You saw how much they loved Eddie, fucking hell," he huffed, stepping back, now wearing a scowl. Where had this night turned to something unfortunate? "Mum would throw a fucking parade if I got a boyfriend who wasn't a cheating dickhead."

"You should tell Oliver that," you pointed out frankly, "or at the very least tell him the truth about things with Eddie, so he knows that you do more than just fuck around with pretty boys."

Everything suddenly goes very still.

"What?" There's no frown, no anger anywhere on Felix's face, just pure surprise, "do you think he thinks that?" You watch Felix re-evaluate the entire situation, giving him space to sort out his feelings, "I made it clear I'm into guys too- do you think he thinks -"

"I think," slowly, carefully, you step up to Felix, voice firm but kind, "that despite how much he's seen you fuck around with other people on campus, the only person you are actually in love with is me," Felix is quiet, looking down at you with this crestfallen look like he's disappointed in himself, "and he, like most people I'll remind you, probably assumes that if he wants you to look at him like you look at me, it'll be a competition."

"Of course it's not, that's so stupid," Felix muttered reflexively.

"I've tried to tell Ollie that," you sighed, wrapping an arm around him. Felix presses his face into your hair for a very long moment.

"What if he doesn't, though?" Comes through muffled and forlorn. You're not quite sure what he means, and thankfully Felix continues, not that he moves his face at all, "what if it is just fucking around and we've misread all of this; I can't tell him I actually love him too, I'd look like an absolute freak."

"Tell him about Eddie," you advised softly, "at least he'll get the hint that you're capable of falling in love with someone who isn't me." The reminder of Eddie would always probably ache, you're starting to come to realise. For now, however, you ignore it.

Felix hugs you tightly, and mumbles that you're probably right. Something eases in your chest at that.

Curled up together in bed not ten minutes later, neither your pyjamas or duvet are as comfortable or warm as Felix's arm around you. He's still deep in thought about the night that had just passed; when he muses that at least it was a better talk than the night before, he sounds like he's still making his mind up about that. Settling into sleep, however, you're contented knowing it was true.

The following morning feels comparatively serene, chattering away to the rest of the family about the night's coming festivities. Both you and Felix drop a quick kiss to the top of Oliver's head in passing on your way to collect breakfast - Farleigh's the only one who notices, and he rolls his eyes at you both. Venetia asks you what you'll be wearing to the event and lights up when you tell her it's the jumpsuit she'd bought you from Yves Saint Laurent for your last birthday, while Elspeth coos that you'll look just darling in it.

After yesterday morning's tenseness, getting to work in your garden, planting the flowers that had arrived for you, music playing cheerily through your little speaker, it feels like a dream. The sun is warm against your back, and for some weird reason you think you see Oliver skulking around in one of the gardens by the wall of the house. Lurking again. Probably habit more than anything else, you figured. Considering the games you've been playing with him, you don't see the need to discourage that kind of behaviour. He's by the window of one of the little libraries; you wonder what must be going on in there to have caught his attention.

Oh well, you'll ask later if you remember.

[the---hermit]

11|11|2024

I am not in the best mental health place at the moment, and it's fucking up my sleep of course. I feel so tired an unmotivated when I get up, it's not good. I have started working on the materials for a new class today. I decided that I will be starting with my history of political and social institutions class, since I have a bad feeling that it will have less exam dates than the other class I was planning on taking in January. I did email the professor to ask for the exam dates, but as I am writing this, he hasn't answered yet, so I am just going with my gut. Studying for this class will be a bit weird because I have to study some materials I worked on in my past degree, which means I am already in possession of a great set of notes I wrote. I decided that my work for this class will start with rereading and rewriting the notes I wrote in the past. Writing in probably the main part of my study method, so I feel like this is a good way to get back into the materials and topic without wasting time. If I were to only reread the notes it would be way less productive, and rewriting the notes isn't a task I dislike, I actually do like sitting down at my desk and hadwriting my informations with arrows and colours. It's also a task that does require focus but not too much brain power, because since I was the one writing the notes in the first place the material is exactly how I like it, direct, with short sentences and a structure I easily get into. Ideally I'd like to finish the rewriting by the end of the week, but I am not sure yet I'll manage. After doing that I might do a quick reread of the book to get a fresh view of the general thing, but honestly I think it will be a last minute decision. In the meantime the professor will hopefully answer and I'll have an actual plan for the winter exam session.

productivity list:

read first thing in the morning

emailed professor

started rereading and rewriting political intitution notes (I worked on the entire first chapter of the book the notes refer to)

duolingo

📖: The Adventures of Amina Al Sirafi

[luvletters4nagiseishiro]

break my heart | fuckboy!oikawa

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ oikawa is the school's most renowned playboy and he tries his best to win you over

cw: gn!reader, college au, slight angst, suggestive, but no smut, mutual pining

notes: the slightest blue lock crossover btw

you were irritating to him. the very thought of you boils his blood-- for the simple fact that you showed no interest in him whatsoever. he was the most popular amongst the school, his groupies heart-eyed at the sight of his face, a simple smile from him could make anyone blush- except you.

it was that one day that made him distraught, almost hysterical. you two were in a calculus workshop and sitting in between you two was your friend who had been trying her best to hide the fact that she was completely enamored with oikawa. it's been three weeks into the semester and you couldn't help but wonder what your friend megumi saw in him. to you he was just a pretty face who could set some volleyballs, nothing more.

on top of his obnoxious personality, it also annoyed you just a little bit how he excels in class for someone who you have never seen pick up a pen in the last two semesters. it just sucks that he's always on par with you even with all the hours you put into your studies, but you don't dwell on it too much.

"anyways,, this is boring. let's chat." oikawa grinned playfully, adjusting his body to face you and megumi.

"have you finished the work?" you don't even glance at him and continued to click away on your calculator.

"did it last night." he said casually, leaning against the chair.

how? before you question it any further, megumi piped in. "are you guys going to the music festival in the city this weekend?" her body is completely facing him, obvious that she is directing the question at him with an ulterior motive.

"hmm, i was planning to but i would need someone fun to go with or else it'd be boring." he mused, eyeing you as you don't even bother to face him when he's talking.

"i mean we could go toget-" but before megumi could even finish that sentence, he leaned in forward on the desk.

"if y/n went with me, i'd have a lot of fun." his cheshire cat smile never failed to send shivers down your spine. you turned to see megumi's scowl on her face which made you curse under your breath.

"no thank you." you said quietly, taking a quick glance at her sour expression.

"why not?" he whined, his eyes glinted with amusement as he waited for your reaction.

"i don't think i'd have fun with you at all." you said nonchalantly. you didn't lie. you didn't think you had anything in common with oikawa at all. even if you liked the same music, how strange would it be for you to go to that music festival with him out of all people?

his grin quickly faltered, his face turning blank. he retreated from his position and went slumped back into his chair. he was stumped. every time he tried to make an advance on you, you would just flat-out reject him with no hesitation. it's been like this for months and it's driving him crazy. he even asked in front of megumi on purpose. to show that he only wanted you. and no one else.

after that day, he decided to stop plotting ways to get your attention because he was so busy with club activities and an on-going tournament. that didn't stop him from being his cocky self, flirting with girls that would watch him at the gym and even entertaining the female professors.

but every time oikawa would catch a glimpse of you in class (he tries to at least once every 5 minutes), he couldn't help but feel a burning sensation in his chest at the fact that you still weren't his.

you only realised recently that he barely talked to you in class, his playful remarks were no longer the first thing you heard when you sat down, his teases were no longer distracting you when you tried to do the work. you felt slightly relieved that you were no longer a target of his antics, because you believed deep down that everything he said and did was just a ruse, something to keep him occupied in a boring class.

but, there was a feeling of emptiness that you felt whenever you expected him to give you a witty comment, but he doesn't. and he just looked away. suddenly, every time you saw him entertain someone else you were trying to figure out why your heart would ache in response. why your stomach would churn whenever he paid megumi the slightest attention- knowing that she was obsessed with him. you knew it was just his personally. it was natural for him as a playboy to find new girls to toy around with. but why did it bother you so much?

your other friend reo tasked you with going into the boy's locker room and dropping off his textbook during his soccer practice. you didn't know why he thought it was a good idea, but you couldn't say no because his notes have been practically saving your grades in your economics classes. you thought it'd be easy to do it around this time because everyone is occupied in the gyms training.

walking in, you immediately dropped the textbook in shock when you saw oikawa shirtless and covered in sweat. he was just about to change when he caught your eyes. "so you're sneaking into locker rooms to get a peak of me now?" the cockiest grin formed on his face, the grin that you denied you missed so much.

blood rushed to your cheeks as you took in the sight. beads of sweat glistened on his abs and defined arms, somehow accentuating every line of his defined muscles. your train of thought snapped when he stepped closer to you, the grin not leaving his very, hot face. you couldn't deny it anymore, as much as you tried to. oikawa was extremely hot. no matter how distasteful his personality was to you, his face card would never decline.

"who's this for?" he cocked his head as he picked up the textbook you dropped on the ground and handing it you.

"um. it's for reo." you mutter to the ground, not daring to make eye contact with him in this situation.

he groaned, "soccer players." he took another step closer to you, forcing you to look up at him. so tall. you thought.

he was too close, his lips were only a few inches from yours. and before you could take a step back, his right hand gripped your waist to keep you close to him. "you're really hard to please y/n." he whispered into your ear. the sensation tickling your outer ear, sending shivers down your spine. your heart has never raced this hard before.

"i don't know what you mean..." you breathed out. he lowered his gaze and you felt his breath on your neck, causing even worse heart palpitations.

"i nearly gave up on you, y'know." you tried to step back but for some reason you were frozen in place, you wanted to leave somehow but the feeling of his large hand keeping you in place gave you butterflies in your stomach.

"but seeing you now, i never wanted you more." that sentence alone made you lightheaded. and before your brain could process it any further, your body moved on its own to pull him in for a kiss.

his eyes widened at the sudden advance, unexpected from you to make any move, but it didn't take him long to kiss you back, and hard. he groaned, your lips practically molding together. his left hand kept your head in place. his other hand gripped your waist tightly, making sure not to let go. he didn't ever want to let go.

oikawa's lips were soft, and so was his hair when you tugged at the back of his head, dropping the textbook once more. he groaned against your lips when you matched his roughness.

but you forcefully pulled away, breathless. "oh fuck..." you cursed under your breath. it way was too hot in that room.

"that was not. i am not-" before you could start to make excuses for yourself, he interrupted you.

"are you free tonight?" he queried, giving you an all-too-familiar grin.

"yes." you blurted out, not thinking straight. but the idea of continuing what you started with oikawa after a date didn't seem too bad.

notes: a smut pt.2 would go well with this

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Hey! Alway me🫣🤭.

I need to ask cause you draw so well.

I really like the poses and bodies you do, so I was wondering: Do you have any tips for learning how to draw bodies, hands, faces, etc. well?

Hello again!! Thank you so much for enjoyin my work !!!!

I didn't think I'd type up much in response to this, but. Oops!!!!!! So I have all of my notes below the cut :]

With regards to drawing anatomy and the sort, the shortest way I can say it is to study exactly what you're looking to draw: it's easy to generally say 'just study' or 'study everything' when it comes to art, but if you don't know exactly what you want to improve on, you're not going to make as much progress as you may want. You'll need a starting point, and identifying things like bodies/muscles, faces, hands and the like of what you want to focus on drawing is a great start!

For starters, I for sure recommend looking into muscle anatomy charts and models- something like these:

Color blocked diagrams like this can help identify the shapes of muscles, and generally once you understand the shapes of them and how they fit together, drawing anatomy as a whole starts to come easier: once you've made sense of the muscles of the body, you better understand where they belong and how they'll move, and therefore you can plan/visualize them better.

You know how sometimes people have to disassemble an engine and then reassemble it to better understand it? Think of it that way: you deconstruct your subject, study it, and- with a better understanding of it- put it back together!

Moreover, once you know the rules of anatomy, you can start to bend it when working with perspectives. make sure to look at plenty of photo references to understand this!

Perspective's a different subject I'm gonna pivot to really quick: it seems scary at first, but you just need time to study and play around with it, like with anything you're studying.

Generally speaking, the closer something is to the camera, the bigger it'll be. When we try to draw these extreme perspectives in mind- I, at least- get worried about it looking inaccurate or 'wrong'. But it's good to embrace that exaggeration at times! It helps add emphasis to your piece (especially if there's movement or action!), and it's why we learn these rules of anatomy and perspective: to harness them and break them when necessary. If you feel as though something looks off though, don't be afraid to look for reference images.

I don't use them much nowadays, but 'art dolls' can help you out with posing and perspectives at the start! You don't need a physical doll either: my personal favorite site was justsketch.me. It's totally free, and you can add multiple figures to a 'set' if you need to. Play around with it for a bit: it's pretty fun just posing the dolls!

Back to muscles though...

Obviously, you don't have to map out muscles like this every time. Just doing this a couple times once in a while as an exercise helps you get associated with the shapes of the muscles, especially when applying it to poses you're looking to draw.

*Quick note: the forearm's bone- the ulna- twists when bent as shown in this reference, hence the 'twisting' shape of the lime greens!

As for hands, I hope this quick little chart can help! again, a big help- for me- is understanding the shapes and how they all connect, and how parts of the hand move and work. Like I said before, looking at references will help a lot.

With hands and poses alike, I honestly recommend tracing your pose/reference of interest first, if you have one. Doing this lets you get a 'feel' of how to draw what you'd like, plus it allows you to become more familiar with the details of what you're drawing. After you get a grasp for that, free-handing poses will come easier. If you're able- whether that's taking pictures or looking at a mirror- yourself can be a good reference for your drawings too! You'll know exactly what you're looking for, and you don't have to worry about hunting for The Perfect Reference.

As for faces, part of that is based on style- BUT I hope how my approach to drawing faces can help!

If I May Provide A Quick Demo on how I go about learning to draw new characters: I do a fair amount of studying whenever drawing real people (as I do with my movie!x-men art), so I hope looking at my process can help you see my thinking in action.

Michael Fassbender probably has one of my favorite faces to draw since it's so distinct in shapes and therefore pretty easy to understand and draw, so I'm gonna borrow him for this:

I always have a set of reference images of the person/character I'm drawing off to the side. For this demo, I'm just going to use these few

When I first start to get to know a person's face, I start off with generic shapes. Almost like I have to carve the rest of their features out of this 2D marble slab, I guess is a way I can put it. While drawing Michael/Erik, I always think of how 'square' or boxy his face is as a starting point. Thereafter, I look closer at the details of his face and gradually start 'grinding' the 'marble' to be more specific to his face shape.

In this case, although I can 'summarize' his face with a square, I also acknowledge it's not perfectly square and that he has a rounded jawline, chin, and forehead. Still: I ask myself why I think his face is so 'square', and a part of it's because of how pronounced his features are: they give him a sharper look.

That 'sharper' look is displayed best at his cheeks/cheekbones, so I highlight it, as I feel it's a distinguishing feature of his face I want to capture.

So I have his general shapes down- but I also know Michael has very distinguished expressions as well! So I go look at my sources and no this wasn't an excuse to rewatch First Class I sweaarrr <-lying to see how his face moves depending on what he's expressing or even how he talks. When I understand how his face moves, then I can start to draw expressions I feel are more 'natural' or 'accurate'. The rest of his face just falls into place after that.

Once I have my notes, then I just do some rough sketches and I put what I learnt into practice. And then uh... yeah! That's how I do that.

Evidently, this way of study doesn't work if you're drawing a character with no real-life model. Moreover, some styles are a lot more simple than what I have going on here, and some subjects may be better suited for a different art style all together: it ultimately depends on what you find the most fun and what you think feels right to you!

I'm not sure I have any other tips off the top of my head, but if you have any please feel free to ask! Drawing takes time to get the hang of and to figure out what you like, so I hope you have fun on your artistic journey!

Happy drawing!

[shewreckz]

Hey your art is pretty whimsical and radical my gender non specific broseph, per chance would thou be able to enlighten us on how you draw such bodacious fine art? Like how you draw bodies and fave and what have thee. (Fr tho your art really cool and I'd like to see how you make it)

okay i have whipped up a quick little visual of my thought process while drawing!! it might not be the best cause im not the greatest at teaching but if anyones curious ^_^

first lets start with how i draw bodies

a lot of people like to do the "skeleton" method which is where you draw lines and circles to plan out where the limbs should be. honestly i really dislike doing that because i like to always have volume and shape in mind when drawing bodies, but if it works for you thats great.

instead i separate the body into different pieces, kinda like an articulated doll. i think it helps visualize all the moving parts in a 3d space and makes posing and perspective a lot easier. i can also always add the detailed anatomy on top of this basic model like you see on the left. its always important to work from simple -> complex. drawing a pose while being too worried on anatomy will really hinder your drawing process.

to improve doing this it really just takes practice and observation. i could be here all day talking about proportions, and how many heads high a person is, and each specific muscle group, but i reccomend you go and watch videos and study professional artists on your own. as someone who has been drawing and studying these things for so long, i barely think about how many heads high a person is when im drawing a body. its kind of like learning how to play and instrument or driving a car. it becomes second nature eventually, but you have to apply those skills and work through that period of time where youre still trying to program it into your brain.

after you get a hang of the basics you can take this basic model and draw all types of body shapes with it. i say its always important to play around with making your body types diverse. its not only fun to do but helps make all the characters you draw unique and recognizable. (dont be like vivziepop).

dynamic posing can be the hardest thing to master for a lot of people. the best way to learn how to pose is to not think about it too much and just doing it. for example in my figure drawing class we had to sketch out gesture drawings from a picture in 15 seconds. excercises like that help a ton in making you feel more comfortable when drawing from a reference. you should definitely reference a LOT when it comes to poses, it helps build this visual database so that eventually you can get to the point where you can just draw accurate and dynamic poses from memory. after getting to this point eventually you kind of start thinking of your canvas as this tangible 3d space and considering your characters in 3d space helps make the poses feel a lot more realistic and interesting.

ok now a quick little tour into how i draw different faces yaaaayy!!!1!1!1

main thing with my art is that i LOVEEE drawing dynamic face shapes i think its so important to avoid drawing the same slim faces over and over. shape language plays a big role into this. like for example the face on the middle is more square, the one on the left is more oval and the one on the right is more circle. shape language helps communicate so much about your character without even saying a word about them and just helps differentiate people from a glance.

facial features also play a huge role into making your faces different. these are all drawn from the same exact face shape but look like entirely different characters by adding variety in the features. different noses, eye shapes, lips, etc. can make such a huge difference

i think before any of that its important to learn the anatomy of the face though. again im not gonna go into how many eyes wide a face it or how far the nose is from the mouth but like its always important to learn the fundamentals before stylizing stuff. again the face is a 3d space and if you dont consider your face a 3d plane the features will kind of just look like theyre floating on your characters face like soup...theres a lot of great resources and tutorials online take advantage of those!!! and reference from artists you like too it helps a ton.

and then you mix that all together and Boom you have cool and interesting faces. you will best that same face syndrome in no time if you take my advice Trust...

anyways yeah thats the soda design philosophy hit that like button if you liked it or douse me with tomatoes and kick me off the stage if you think i give bad advice ill leave the decision up to you

[olivyh]

What if one day Jamil got so tired of doing everything for Kalim that he wishes that he could have more time for himself? And then for the next few days, someone's already helped him finish his chores, schoolwork, and other tasks (i.e bringing stuff to the teachers, preparing food for banquets).

Jamil's confused. Who could've done this? It couldn't be Kalim. But it also couldn't have been his darling s/o, right? Sure, they bring him a bento and small gifts everyday but that's normal. Until one day while bringing him his fixed school uniform, Jamil hypnotizes a student and asks him who was helping him behind the shadows. Lo and behold, it was indeed his s/o all along. Now, Jamil is rushing over to Ramshackle, and what does he see? S/o cooking a delicious pot of curry that Jamil loves. Cue Jamil proposing to S/o on the spot.

A/N: Jamil nation is back!! Midterms are almost up, which means (hopefully) a little more productivity! I've been struggling with some mental health stuff recently, so my works aren't as polished as i'd like them to be ;;;;;;

Jamil practically collapses onto his bed, his limbs feeling as though they were being held down by weights and his eyelids drooping pathetically as he tries to muster any amount of strength to at least get cleaned up after his busy day. The man feels as though he's covered in a layer of sweat, grime, and grease from all the running around- from having to cook breakfast and lunch for Kalim, to chasing after Floyd during practice (with no time between the end of it due to the mer deciding to climb onto the net and effectively rip it off the hinges and a lengthy explanation to the nurse and his twin brother), to rushing across campus to grab groceries to preparing for another party followed by cleaning it off...

Jamil groans and sits up despite his body's pleas for him to rest. His muscles ache as he weakly pulls out the charms in his hair- albeit a little rougher than he would normally be. He hardly has the energy to take out the birds and place all the accessories on his bedside table, opting to simply slip out of his hoodie and pass out with a tanktop and the lower half of his dorm uniform. He falls onto his back, the tension in his shoulders unrelenting even as he tried to relax, a wave of frustration cascading over his mind and making his heart clench until it nearly aches. It's only a matter of time before his eyes unwillingly slip closed, sending him into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, he awakes without the blare of his alarm. He gasps and shoots up, scrambling for his phone as he climbs out of bed (when did he get underneath the blankets?) and reaches for his hair accessories (did he put those away last night?). He hastily casts a quick spell, watching as the magic swirls and effortlessly braids his hair back in his usual style, the few loose strands picked up by the boy as he tucks them behind his ear. He tries to ignore the slight tremor in his hand as he attaches the charms, tossing on his (washed?) blazer.

Jamil Viper knew himself well, he knew what he could and could not do, he knew his limits, he knew and carefully planned his every action and event to the minute, careful to not leave any loose strings that could come back and bite him.

This continued through the next week- suddenly all of his chores were finished, coming back to the dorm exhausted and mentally preparing to deep clean the kitchen or the common room only to find that it had already been done. Kalim's clothes were folded as well (the heir had been confused as well, having been asleep in his room while his clothes were left in the laundry room). He even noticed that much of his homework was done (albeit sloppily around the edges) and he would come back after practice to see that the cupboards had been restocked with groceries for the next week.

Jamil felt as though his head was going to split, he tugged at the end of his hair and bit his lip as he attempted to study, mind racing with the possibilities. Could someone be trying to replace him? Trying to get closer to Kalim? Did they have it out for him? He swore that if Azul had anything to do with this he was going to corner that bastard and take his broken glasses as a reward-

"Jamil? I was told to take this to you-"

"Hm?" He looks up, only for his eyes to widen s he takes in his now repaired basketball uniform- torn from Floyd grabbing it too hard and effectively ripping it from the collar down the center. He was humiliated having to walk back to the dorm essentially wearing it as a vest rather than a jersey.

Feeling a surge of annoyance, finally at his breaking point, he stares the student down, eyes narrowing as he feels the familiar surge of magic through his veins, tingling from the crown of his head to the tips of his fingers.

"Who put you up to this?" He demands, taking a step closer to the hypnotized student. The blank red-film eyes stare back at him as the students' jaw hangs open uselessly.

"The Ramshackle Prefect," Jamil stops in his tracks, dropping his magic as he scrambles for the door, his bare feet slapping against the cold tile of the Scarabia as he rushes to the mirror.

He mentally berates himself- how could he be so blind? Jamil also feels a stab of pity that worms into his heart and makes him want to curl up. Had he unintentionally put that pressure on them? How could he not see the stress?

Looking back on it, he does remember how their movements were slowed, how their eyes held that slightly droopy look that he absolutely adored when they were laying beside each other in the late hours of the night, the way Grim glared at him when he stopped by their table for lunch (granted, the cat-like creature was prone to such childish actions, but he should have noticed how protective the monster got over the prefect).

The cold stone of the pathway to Main Street bites at his exposed feet, and he wishes he had bought his sandals to protect his feet. He trips over sticks, stubs his toes on rocks, and rushes through the bushes that cut through the forest on the way to the dorm. The chill of the air bites into his exposed skin as his lungs burn from running so far so quickly.

Once he finally arrives at the dorm, sweaty and out of breath, he catches a whiff of something that makes his heart pound even faster in his ribcage.

They were making his favorite food.

He swallows and raises a shaky hand to knock on the door. The sweat that had clung to his skin like a film began to chill in the night air, making him involuntarily shiver despite the warmth that blossomed in his stomach.

Jamil could barely catch their shocked expression to see him standing on their porch. He's sure he looks like a mess- his bangs clinging to his sweaty face, sweatshirt in disarray and basketball shorts exposing his legs despite the cold weather and, of course, his dirtied feet from the trek to the dorm. He envelopes them in a hug, ignoring their weak protests and complaints about getting sweat on them.

He backs away for a moment, cupping their face in his warm palms and gazing into their eyes as he takes in every feature- from the spice that had somehow ended on their cheek to the way their eyes crinkle when they smile at him.

He had practically lost control when he presses his lips to theirs, trying to convey all of his twisted feelings for them in one simple action- never enough, he'd believed. He could kiss them every second of every day and it would never amount to the amount of joy they gave him, the love he felt whenever he was in their presence. Every kiss was a different unspoken phrase, the words caught in his throat despite how slick he normally is with his prose.

'I need you' The kiss on their eyelid said.

'You're too kind' The peck on the tip of their nose.

'I want to keep you safe' The brush of his lips against their forehead.

'I don't deserve you' His lips ghosting over the soft curve of their cheek.

"Marry me," He mumbles, finally pressing a firm kiss to their lips once more.

They chuckle nervously as Jamil gasps softly, raising a hand to cover his mouth as he backs away, realizing that he had said the final one aloud.

They grip his hand and give him a once-over, sending him that warm smile that he wished he could hold all day and night- selfishly hoarding it and keeping it to himself.

"Wanna come in? I'm making dinner."

They don't have to ask him twice.

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 26: Wyoming

Warning: Mention of miscarriage. Some chapters have sex.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

You chose a flight that departed Tuesday afternoon, arriving in Wyoming late that night. This timing would give you a chance to settle in and rest before diving into the work ahead the following day.

You had also reserved a cottage at the Log Cabin Motel that was conveniently located near the study. There were 2 bedrooms that each had their own bathroom, a small dinette table along with a small living room. There was also a desk where you could conveniently work.

Waking early on Wednesday morning, unable to sleep and still in your pajamas, you stepped out of your room to find Chuck already awake and making a pot of coffee.

"I'm starting to think you're a robot who never sleeps," you said with a teasing smile.

Chuck looked up from the coffee maker, a grin spreading across his face. "Nah, just a creature of habit," he replied, pouring a cup and offering it to you. "Besides, I knew someone had to keep the coffee flowing for the real early birds like you."

You chuckled, accepting the cup gratefully. "Thanks, Chuck. I don't know what I'd do without my morning caffeine fix."

He handed you a cup, prepared just the way you like it. "It's decaf. I know, not what you want, but better for the baby."

You took the cup and sighed, appreciating his thoughtfulness despite your longing for a stronger brew.

"Thanks, Chuck," you said, managing a grateful smile despite your disappointment. "You're right, it's better for the baby."

Chuck returned your smile. "So, what's on the schedule for today?"

"I need to go out and see what Stryker is doing with his research. It's just not making sense." You took a sip of your coffee. "But I need you to go to the auction and choose a couple of horses."

"What are you looking for?"

You gently pat your stomach. "I know they will all be good with him, but something for him."

Chuck nodded.

"Got it," Chuck said with a nod, his expression serious. "I'll make sure to pick a couple that are gentle and suitable for a family."

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a bit of relief knowing that Chuck would handle the auction. "I trust your judgment."

Just then, Jake emerged from the bedroom, dressed in gray lounge pants and a long-sleeved sleeping shirt. You raised an eyebrow from behind your mug as you took another sip of your coffee, marveling once again at how much that man could affect you with just his presence.

Jake's sleepy smile as he walked over to you made your heart flutter. He leaned in and gave you a quick kiss on the forehead. "Morning," he murmured, still shaking off the remnants of sleep. "What's the plan for today?"

"We were just discussing it," you replied, returning his smile. "I'm heading over to check on Dr. Stryker's research. Something isn't adding up, and I need to see for myself what's going on. Chuck's going to the auction to pick out a couple of horses."

Jake nodded, his protective instincts clearly kicking in. "I don't like the idea of you going to see Stryker alone. I'll come with you."

You agreed with a shrug, grateful for his support. "That's fine with me. Let's get ready then."

After a quick breakfast, and getting dressed, you and Jake gathered your things and prepared to head out. You gave Chuck one last set of instructions, ensuring he knew exactly what you were looking for at the auction.

"Be careful," Chuck said, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "And don't worry about the horses. I'll find the perfect ones."

"Thanks," you replied, feeling a bit more at ease. "We'll see you later."

You and Jake headed towards one of the rental trucks while Chuck made his way to the other.

Jake opened the driver's side door for you, and you slid into the seat. He closed the door, then quickly ran around to the passenger side and got in.

"Well, at least there isn't a lot of snow," you said as you started the truck.

"Only you would say that," Jake responded, looking at you with a smile.

You glanced over at him.

"You always loved your winter months. Especially your snow," he continued.

As you began to drive, Jake added, "You've got the whole family loving it now."

You grinned, feeling a warm sense of satisfaction at the thought.

"Just you wait, Jake Seresin. You have yet to spend a Christmas at the lodge. You've been missing out," you teased, glancing at him with a playful smile.

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. "I can't wait to see what all the fuss is about," he replied, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

As you navigated the snowy roads, a sense of excitement built up inside you. Sharing the holidays at the lodge with Jake, something you'd been wanting for years, was finally becoming a reality.

"Trust me, it's magical," you said, your voice brimming with enthusiasm. "There's nothing like waking up to a fresh blanket of snow, a crackling fireplace, and the smell of pine and cinnamon in the air. It's like something out of a fairytale."

Jake smiled, his eyes filled with warmth. "I'm looking forward to it, darlin'. I know it'll be perfect, especially with you there."

You turned down the road that led to the farm that Dr. Stryker was currently collecting information at and parked the truck next to a bunch of other vehicles.

As you stepped out of the truck, you noticed the hustle and bustle of activity around the farm. Researchers and farmhands moved about purposefully, tending to animals and equipment. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying the earthy scents of hay and livestock. You could see pens filled with various animals, including cattle, horses, and sheep, which were integral to Dr. Stryker's ongoing research.

Jake walked around the truck to stand beside you, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "Seems like quite the operation," he remarked, a note of admiration in his voice.

"Yeah," you replied, your gaze sweeping over the scene. "Let's hope we can get to the bottom of this quickly."

You made your way towards the main barn, where you assumed Dr. Stryker would be. Inside, the sounds of animals mixed with the low hum of conversations and the clinking of metal tools. As you approached, a familiar face emerged from the shadows—Dr. Stryker, clipboard in hand, looking more frazzled than ever.

"Y/N, Jake," he greeted, his voice tinged with a mix of weariness and forced enthusiasm. "I wasn't expecting you here."

"Dr. Colson sent me," you said, your tone firm but not unkind. "The data isn't adding up from when I helped you the last time, so I was sent to find out why."

Dr. Stryker nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Of course. Follow me."

He led you through the barn, explaining the various experiments and data collection methods. You listened carefully, noting the procedures and comparing them to the reports you had reviewed. It was clear that while some aspects of the research were thorough and well-executed, there were gaps and inconsistencies that needed to be addressed.

You looked at Stryker. "Doctor, what you're saying doesn't add up to what was given to the school. I'd like to see your computer."

He sighed. "That's currently at my hotel room, but I will gladly meet up with you later."

You sighed, feeling a growing sense of frustration. "Fine. Send me an email with that information, and I'll meet you at your hotel at six."

He smiled, a bit too brightly. "Sounds great. I'll see you then."

As you walked back to the rental truck, Jake glanced back at Dr. Stryker and then at you. "Something's not right."

You looked at him, your own suspicions bubbling to the surface. "I know," you admitted. "He's definitely hiding something."

Later that evening, you pulled the rental truck into a parking spot at the hotel where Dorian was staying. Jake sat in the passenger seat, despite your insistence that you would be fine. He simply didn't trust Dorian.

You walked through the lobby and approached the front desk. The attendant looked up as you arrived.

"I'm here to see Dr. Dorian Stryker," you said.

The attendant smiled warmly. "Ah, yes. Dr. Y/N Seresin. He's waiting for you in the restaurant."

You looked at Jake, who glanced at the attendant. "Is there a bar in the restaurant?" he asked.

"There is, sir," the attendant confirmed.

Jake turned to you with a determined look. "I'll be watching from there."

You leaned in and kissed him softly. "Okay," you agreed, feeling reassured by his presence.

As you and Jake walked towards the restaurant, the dim lighting and elegant decor created an atmosphere of quiet sophistication. The scent of delicious food and the hum of conversation filled the air. You spotted Dr. Dorian Stryker seated at a table near the back, engrossed in some papers. He looked up as you approached, a smile spreading across his face when he saw you.

"Y/N, it's good to see you," Dorian greeted, standing to shake your hand. His gaze flickered briefly to Jake before returning to you. "Please, have a seat."

You sat down across from Dorian, feeling the weight of Jake's watchful eyes from the bar. Dorian's smile didn't reach his eyes, which were shadowed with concern.

"Thank you for meeting me," you began, your tone professional. "We need to go over the data you've collected. There are some significant discrepancies that need addressing."

Dorian nodded, his expression turning serious. "As you've stated and I understand. I've brought all the relevant documents for you to review. I assure you, any inconsistencies were not intentional. This research is incredibly important to me."

You opened your laptop and began comparing the documents Dorian provided with the reports you had. The numbers and notes began to tell a troubling story. Some data points were missing, while others seemed to be manipulated.

"Dorian," you said, looking up from the screen, "these discrepancies are too significant to be simple errors. We need to figure out what's going on here."

Dorian sighed, rubbing his temples. "I know it looks bad, but I promise you, there's no foul play. We're under immense pressure to produce results, and sometimes things get overlooked. But I will take full responsibility and work with you to correct everything."

You nodded, appreciating his willingness to cooperate. "Alright, let's get started. We need to verify each data point and ensure our methodology is sound."

As you delved into the work, you couldn't help but notice Dorian glancing occasionally at Jake, who was seated at the bar, keeping a close eye on the proceedings. Dorian's frequent glances and subtle expressions made it clear that Jake's presence was annoying to him, adding a layer of tension to the meeting.

You looked at Dorian, catching his eye. "Is there something wrong?" you asked, your tone steady but curious.

He shifted slightly in his seat, meeting your gaze. "No, nothing's wrong," he replied, though his irritation was evident. "It's just… unexpected to have an audience."

You glanced towards Jake, who gave you a reassuring smile, then turned your attention back to Dorian.

"Well, let's focus on the task at hand," you said firmly. "Can you show me the data you mentioned?"

Dorian nodded, pulling out a laptop and opening the relevant files. "Here are the sets that we've been working on," he explained, scrolling through spreadsheets filled with numbers and notes. "The discrepancies are mostly in these sections."

You leaned in, examining the data closely. The inconsistencies were apparent, and as you cross-referenced the figures, patterns began to emerge. "It looks like there are repeated errors in these columns," you pointed out. "Is it possible that someone copied data incorrectly?"

Dorian sighed, rubbing his temples again. "It's possible. We've been under so much pressure to deliver results that accuracy might have been compromised."

"Well, let's start by correcting these errors," you suggested, your tone determined. "We'll need to verify each entry against the original data."

As you worked, you noticed Dorian fidgeting awkwardly. Concerned, you stopped again and looked at him. "Dr. Stryker, are you okay?" you asked, your voice laced with genuine concern.

Dorian looked at you, his discomfort evident. "I…I can't work like this," he stammered.

Confusion washed over your face. "What do you mean?"

He nodded towards Jake. "I feel like he's judging me."

You closed the laptop, taking a deep breath. "I think this is enough for today. Why don't we meet back here tomorrow?" you suggested, hoping to diffuse the tension.

Dorian looked relieved as he nodded. "That sounds like a good idea. I'll make sure everything is ready for us to continue tomorrow."

You gave him a reassuring smile. "We'll get through this. Just make sure you review the data we went through tonight, and we'll pick up from there."

Dorian nodded, standing up and gathering his things. "Thank you, Y/N. I'll see you tomorrow."

You watched as Dorian left the restaurant, then turned and started walking towards Jake.

Jake took the shot glass off the counter, gulped it down, and looked at you with his signature sexy grin. "That went quicker than I expected," he remarked.

You smirked back at him and handed your credit card to the bartender, who waited patiently. "He said he felt like you were judging him," you explained.

Jake chuckled. "Me? Never!"

"Are you drunk?" you asked, signing the receipt the bartender slid to you and handing it back.

He shook his head, still smiling. "Nope, just a single shot. Enough to relax but not nearly enough to get me drunk," he assured you, slipping his hand into yours as he hopped off the bar stool. The two of you began walking out of the hotel.

You walked to the passenger door where Jake held it open, but you looked at him. "I'm driving."

"Y/N, I swear I'm not drunk," he insisted.

"I believe you, but…" you trailed off.

You could see the realization click in Jake's head, understanding why you were insistent. Your parents had been killed by a drunk driver.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," Jake apologized, his voice soft with regret.

You gave him a small, appreciative smile. "It's okay. Just let me drive."

He nodded, stepping into the passenger side while you walked over to the driver's side and got in. You started the truck. "We'll be back here tomorrow," you said, then turned to look at him. "But I want to go alone."

Jake looked at you, concern evident in his eyes. "Y/N, I don't think that's a good idea," he said firmly.

"It's only Dorian, Jake. I don't think he'd ever hurt me," you insisted.

"Well, that's not a chance I'm willing to take," Jake replied, his tone firm and protective.

You sighed, understanding Jake's concern but also feeling the need to assert your independence. "Jake, I appreciate your concern, but I need to handle this on my own. It’s important for the project and for my own confidence."

Jake looked at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of uncertainty. "I trust you, Y/N. But I don't trust him. And I don’t want to take any chances, especially now."

You reached over and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "I know. But I’ll be fine. It’s a public place, and we’re making good progress. I promise I'll call you if anything feels off."

He sighed, his grip on your hand tightening slightly before he nodded reluctantly. "Alright. But if anything happens, you call me immediately. Promise?"

"I promise," you said, giving him a reassuring smile. "Now, let's get back to our cabin. I'm exhausted."

You backed out of the parking stall and drove towards your cabin, the day's events weighing heavily on your mind.

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